Page 60 of Dropping the Ball

“I am Lord Hethersett,” Hethersett said, looking to Alden again. His gaze then slipped to Bernadette with an apologetic look. “I am not, however, Lady Bernadette’s husband.”

“You are not?” Lady Gladys asked, alarm growing in her expression. “But … but you are. Everyone knows you are. The two of you were married years ago, before you left for Norway.”

Hethersett cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot, and looking embarrassed again. He directed an apologetic look to Bernadette and said with utmost respect, “My lady, there has been a grave misunderstanding. One I fear has continued for more than a decade without my knowledge.”

“A … a misunderstanding?” Bernadette asked breathlessly, pressing a hand to her chest. Egbert dipped his head down to her fingers, as if he was attempting to reassure her.

Alden could not be outdone by a knight anole, so he moved to Bernadette’s side, placing a hand on the small of her back.

“We are not married,” Hethersett told her, bowing his head as if in apology. “Your father approached me with the idea,” he glanced to Lord Attleborough, “and for a short time, I considered his offer, but in the end, I had to decline.”

A ripple of confused murmurs spread through the throng of guests, many of whom had inched closer to better hear the unfolding drama.

“Papa?” Bernadette stared at her father for a moment, incredulous. “Were you aware of this?”

“I, er, yes,” Lord Attleborough said.

Bernadette gaped at him. “You lied to me,” she hissed, more hurt than angry. “All these years. You made me believesomething that was not true. How could you? More importantly, why would you?”

“It was not about you, my dear,” Attleborough attempted to appear sympathetic. “Certain business deals … the connection … Hethersett is a powerful and well-respected man. The connection with him has raised our entire family’s fortunes immeasurably.”

“Based on lies,” Bernadette said, growing emotional.

Alden could have pummeled the man into the ground for all the trouble he’d caused Bernadette. For all these years, Bernadette had, in fact, been free to live and love as she pleased, but for her father’s lies.

Then again, if Bernadette had known she was unmarried all these years, some other, lucky man might have scooped her up, and he never would have met her.

“I thought I was doing what was best for all of us,” Attleborough said stiffly, frowning at Bernadette as if he would make the entire thing her fault somehow.

Alden was ready to defend his beloved with everything he had, but Hethersett stepped in before he had a chance to.

“I have already expressed to Lord Attleborough how vile I find his actions to be,” he said, scowling at Attleborough, then glancing apologetically to Bernadette once more. “I have made it known in East Anglia that I had no part in these things he has claimed and that there was never any connection between us.”

“But there was a connection,” Bernadette said, bewildered once more. “We are friends, are we not? We have been writing to each other, frequently, these many years now. Over a decade.”

“Ah. Yes. As to that.” Hethersett was suddenly awkward. He flushed pink, squirming a little, then turned to glance back to the edge of the lawn. He gestured to the woman who had accompanied him.

The woman moved restlessly forward, bringing the three children with her. As anxious as she appeared to be, there was a certain light of excitement in her eyes as she looked at Bernadette, almost like an acolyte being given the chance to meet a famous actress they admired.

“Lady Bernadette, allow me to introduce you to my wife, Lady Beatta Hethersett,” Hethersett said.

An audible gasp rose up from the crowd of ball guests.

“Your wife?” Lady Gladys asked, horror in her eyes as she glanced between all the players in the latest iteration of the game.

“Yes,” Hethersett said, taking the blonde woman’s hand as she reached his side. He smiled at her like a man who was in love and had been in love for years. “You see, I could not go through with the proposed marriage all those years ago, because I had met Beatta at the court in Christiana. We fell in love at once and knew there were no others for us.”

Anyone with eyes could see that.

“Beatta,” Waldorf said with a tone of sudden understanding from the side of the central group. “On paper, it looks, perhaps, like a misspelling of Bernadette. That explains a great many things.”

“Your shoddy work, perhaps?” Lady Katherine murmured.

The two of them stared daggers at each other, but Alden did not have time for their drama.

“That does not explain our letters,” Bernadette said, blinking rapidly and shaking her head, as if she were still trying and failing to understand what had happened. “We’ve been writing weekly for more than ten years.”

“Wehave not been writing,” Hethersett said.

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