Page 8 of The Husband Gamble
“If she accepted my suit, she would have no reason to jilt me,” the captain replied. “I am not nearly in my dotage, riddled with the pox, and suspected of beating a previous wife to death, and I have no intention of forcing her to the altar by threats against her virtue.”
“You are right about Baron Hargreaves, her betrothed,” said one of the other men. “I wouldn’t let him within a mile of a sister of mine, if I had one.”
She had been betrothed to Baron Hargreaves? Hythe knew the man and his ghastly son. He wished he didn’t. They were a scourge on the aristocracy—the sort of slimy worm who thought being noble and male entitled them to take whatever and whomever they wanted, whether welcome or not.
“How do you know she was being forced?” Lord Joseph asked.
The informed man shrugged. “The baron’s son drinks to excess. Has always done so, but even more since his… er… accident.”
Most of the gentlemen sniggered, though they all winced, too. The marquis’s son asked for an explanation, which the man provided. “Hargreaves Fili assaulted the wrong woman. She reinforced her refusal with a poker, with enough force to render her assailant unable to ever again enjoy his favourite activity.”
Lord Joseph worked that out and joined the wincing. Hythe thought Alfred Hargreaves got just what he deserved.
Hythe had known the story of the supposed abduction from the church, but not the name of the prospective groom and the pressure applied to Miss Fernhill. He had no idea how she had found a way out of her dilemma, but he admired her more than ever.
Unfortunately, his admiration wasn’t enough. Most of Society was happy to blame her entirely for not accepting the marriage thrust upon her. Hythe must not forget he was responsible for keeping up the family name.
His political clout depended on the quality and probity of the countess he chose. His future children depended on their mother’s reputation.
On the other hand, his sister Sophia had married James—against Hythe’s advice— when there was still some question about his legitimacy. After he had been recognised as the firstborn and legitimate son of the Duke of Winshire, more cautious maidens complained she had stolen a march on them. She had not done it as a strategy, but because she was in love.
James was just as besotted with Sophia. Hythe had been wrong.
As for his sister Felicity, her marriage would be scandalous yet had she not been a Belvoir, and had he and Sophia not accepted her rascal of a husband as their new brother. Felicity was also driven by love, and Hythe had to admit that Justin loved Felicity just as deeply.
Three years of Miss Fernhill’s life were missing. Could that be ignored? Could the combined weight of his friends and family make her an acceptable bride for the Earl of Hythe?
I don’t care. The thought came out of nowhere and was shocking in its certainty. Hythe rolled it around in his mind and said it out loud. “I don’t care?” The answer was instant.I don’t care. What matters is not what anyone else thinks or says. She is my match in every way that matters.
His cautious side whisperedThree. Years. True. He did need to know Miss Fernhill well enough to ask her about those three years. Deep down, he was sure she had done nothing disreputable, and he would certainly defend her to anyone who asked. But he would like to know.
CHAPTERSIX
The old folks are in unison again on the bride’s reaction. “She came alive,” says Granny Smithers. “Straightened. Smiled with such joy that she looked beautiful for the first time in her life, poor lady.”
[“The Abduction of Amaryllis Fernhill”, inCollected Tales from the Villages of England, by a Gentleman]
* * *
The focus of the house party had changed. For the first three days, Lady Osbourne had organised them into activities, making certain that each lady was partnered with a gentleman, and that the pairings changed frequently in the course of each day.
On the fourth day, she made it clear that, if any gentlemen had a particular interest in a lady, he should speak with her privately, and she would ensure that the pair were given time together. She likewise asked the ladies to privately tell her if there was any gentleman they wished to avoid.
The Earl of Hythe was the only person Rilla was drawn to. She was not going to make a fool of herself by telling Lady Osbourne. Perhaps Lord Joseph or Captain Hudson would ask for more time with her, and if so, she would give them serious consideration. She wasn’t a child to refuse a pleasant marriage because she could not have the dream of love.
If she did not find a husband at this party, she needed to seek employment. She was almost through the money she had saved, and she had no intention of living off Cousin Felicia, whose mere competence would not spread to the two of them. She must forget about Lord Hythe and focus her attentions on those who might seek to take her to wife.
And if no one suitable asked her, it did not mean her dreams of marriage and motherhood were dead. Housekeepers sometimes married. Rarely, it was true, but it did happen.
However, that afternoon when the showers cleared, Lord Hythe asked her if she would join a group who were walking to the top of the nearby hill, which gave a view out over the estate. Furthermore, when the party split into couples, each gentleman escorting a lady, Rilla found herself on Lord Hythe’s arm.
“It is good to get out in the fresh air,” she said to him.
“Yes,” he agreed. “Especially in the country.”
“Do you prefer the country, Lord Hythe?” How sad, if so, for by all accounts, he spent most of his time in cities.
He confirmed rumour by saying, “I love to be in the country, but most Parliamentary work is done in London, and when that work sends me overseas, it is usually to cities.”
