Page 4 of Taken to the Grave
The gossip sheets would be ablaze with the information. Already, the columns had revisited time and again the fact that the new Viscount Neatham, one of the most eligible bachelors in London, had not attended a single soiree or ball during the Season. And when Lady Veronica Kettleridge, the most stunningdebutante of the last season, married an earl in early April, reminders about Lord Neatham passing her over the previous summer had resurfaced.
He had, quite deliberately, not put himself into any situation that would give the matchmaking mothers of the ton any opportunity to foist their daughters onto him. In fact, he had only just attended his first dinner party a fortnight ago, at Lady Shoreham’s. The countess had encouraged Audrey to attend as a way to inch back into society, and she had accepted. Though separated by several seats at dinner, her brief conversation with Hugh in Lady Shoreham’s drawing room had captured the attention of the other guests. A gossip sheet printed the following day remarked that perhaps the viscountwasin the market for a wife after all, but that he already had one in mind for himself and was waiting patiently for the proper time to arrive.
It felt a little like a game, or a show, to be here tonight, on parade for all eyes to see, but there was a purpose behind it: If she was seen on the arm of the viscount, with any hope, no other suitors would come calling at Violet House. Already that week, she’d received several bouquets of hot house flowers from gentlemen and had needed to reject three invitations to stroll or ride through Hyde Park. The men were all perfectly amiable, all titled, and acquaintances of the late duke. But to give them any hope at all would have been unkind. Besides, not one of them wanted to court her because of any real affection. She was a wealthy widow, and her estate was the main attraction. Not that she faulted any of the men for their ambitions; it was simply how the beau monde operated.
After tonight, the only man who would press his suit would be the one she had, not so very long ago, believed she would never be able to have.
“I am so happy to see you out of those dreary silvers and grays,” Cassie sighed as they ambled through the pavilion that fronted the orchestra box. As it was fine May weather, the orchestra was playing in the open air, rather than under the rotunda. The soft strains of the piano and woodwind instruments carried on the gentle breeze.
Audrey had cast off her widow’s black while on the Continent but had returned to the more formal threads of half-mourning when she returned to London after the Dover debacle. She’d never been much for pinks or yellows or many of the other bright, girlish colors, but she’d been excited to visit Madame Gascoigne in March to order several gowns in shades of blue, green, and red. Her maid, Greer, had selected a promenade dress of teal silk for today, topped by a spencer of ginger gold. Much to the modiste’s disappointment, Audrey did not care for the ruffles and flounces that were in fashion, but she’d consented to some cording and embroidery. She was also far too sensible to wear any of the elaborate bonnets or hats with high plumage that she saw bobbing and fluttering about in the spring breeze at the gardens.
“I do feel more like myself now,” Audrey replied to her sister-in-law. Then winced. She was not the same woman she’d been since the last time she had gone out in London in fashionable dress. The year had changed her in several ways.
Mostly, she’d struggled to come to terms with the secret she’d been entrusted with. The one she had been burdened with ever since news of her husband, Philip, the Duke of Fournier, arrived, announcing that he’d drowned at sea off the coast of Marseilles. He had not drowned, however, and Audrey had been forced to uphold the charade. Instead, he had followed through with his plan to disappear into the Continent with the man he loved, Mr. Frederick Walker.
“Well, you look lovely, and I meant what I said earlier. As soon as we see Hugh, I will be perfectly content to walk with Ruth,” Cassie said, glancing over her shoulder to where her maid followed at a distance.
“I think you are even more eager for me to be on Hugh’s arm than I am,” Audrey laughed. “Are you so tired of my company?”
Cassie balked. “You know that isn’t true!”
“I am only jesting,” Audrey replied, laughing again. It felt so good to smile, to feel light and playful. This last year, she and Cassie had grown closer than they’d been before Philip’s “death”, even if she’d been keeping such a large secret from her.
She’d grown accustomed to the persistent feeling of guilt over Philip’s brothers and sister all believing him to be dead. It had been a hard truth to accept that to tell them now, to reveal he’d allowed them to mourn his death so that he could have the chance to live the life he wanted, with the person he wanted, would only more deeply injure them.
For so long, she’d taken on the weight of Philip’s choice, one she had been unsuccessful in persuading him to abandon. She’d held all the guilt on her own shoulders, and it had been a great effort to cast it off. In truth, she was still working toward it, and wondering if she would ever truly succeed.
For now, however, she chose to think about the current moment, for that was the only thing over which she had any control.
“Truthfully,” she began, taking Cassie’s arm into hers and lowering her voice, “I am a little nervous.”
“That he will propose here, at Vauxhall?” Cassie said quickly. “I am worried too. It would be a wretched place to ask you to marry him.”
Audrey slowed, taken aback by Cassie’s presumption. The immediate spate of apprehension surprised her. Hugh had promised her an official proposal and a romantic one, too, butsuddenly her half boots seemed to fill with rocks, slowing her. A public proposal would be too showy, too…performative. Not like Hugh at all.
“He won’t. Not here, not tonight.”
“Goodness, I hope not,” Cassie said. But then gave a quizzing look. “What is it that are you nervous about then?”
Audrey wasn’t sure how to describe the persistent, restless friction that had lingered just underneath her skin all week.
They passed another pair of women, strolling arm-in-arm. They canted their heads and smiled at Audrey and Cassie, saying a polite hello. This would be the way of their promenade this evening, and she’d best get used to it.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said once they’d strolled on.
“It does,” Cassie insisted. “And I think I know what it is.”
Audrey raised a brow, intrigued to hear her guess.
“You knew what it was to be married to Philip. You don’t know what it will be like being married to Hugh. That’s bound to leave you anxious.”
She was probably correct. Audrey couldn’t help but shiver every time she pictured becoming Hugh’swife. So much would change. All for the better, to be sure, but she still felt a fluttery sensation of unease, of worry that something would go wrong. That something would continue to stand in their way. Keep them apart.
She could make no sense of it, and neither could she have explained it to Cassie without sounding somewhat hysterical. So, she kept her lips sealed and continued toward the Grand Walk, where Hugh had said he would be waiting for her.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Audrey said, hoping to put the topic to rest.
“But I hope he does not wait too long,” Cassie sighed. She squeezed Audrey’s arm again. “You must be eager for…companionship.”
