Chapter 53
In the end, it was agreed that Allegra and Max should marry in Surrey, in the tiny church near her father’s estate. It would be quieter and more private, less likely to attract uninvited guests, strangers who had come only to whisper and gawk.
The announcement of their betrothal had caused a great stir, coming as it did so close upon the magazine story, which all the ton had read and understood to refer to Mr Severin.
Like Miss Cecilia Constantine, the ladies of the polite world considered the union the most romantic thing that had ever occurred, or at least that had occurred this Season.
Handsome, agreeably exotic Mr Severin had been pining, and also yearning, unable to offer for the woman he loved because of his very creditable scruples.
He could not, it was understood, ask his adored to ally herself with him and bear his children when he had not the least idea of his origins, which seemed all too likely to be shameful, possibly carrying some hereditary taint of which he was entirely ignorant.
What could he have said to her father, when he offered for her hand?
Though nobody but he knew it at the time, he had feared himself forever doomed to a life of private misery and idle public pleasure. He had smiled, and all the while his heart had been breaking in his noticeably broad chest. There had seemed no possibility of a solution.
But his background had – providentially – been revealed to him, after he had searched fruitlessly for years.
He had made his peace with his long-lost father, whose true nobility of character belied his humble origins and gave one food for serious reflection, and had laid the unvarnished truth of who and what he was at the feet of his lady.
She had been pining too. The ton had thought her sulky and displeasant, treating ungraciously those few suitors she had, when instead she had been suffering anguish, hoping not to be obliged to wed another, nursing a secret love for a man who appeared to care nothing for her.
No wonder she hadn’t been going about smirking like a noddy.
But Mr Severin had spoken, sharing the key to his heart. And she had accepted him!
Not all the ladies of high society were so easily touched in their tenderest emotions, or even possessed of tender sensibilities that could be so affected.
Lady Milton’s demeanour had grown frostier than ever over recent days – which was saying something – and she let drop some distinctly acid remarks upon the topic of Mr Severin and his so-called romance, when acquaintances of hers were incautious or mischievous enough to mention it in her presence.
But it must be recalled that Lord Milton, so handsome, so eligible, so long unmarried, had been to all appearances the most favoured of Miss Constantine’s suitors until very recently.
It was presumed that he had offered for her, and been rejected.
Mere worldly considerations had not swayed the young lady whose affection had already been given to another.
It was delicious, and all the more so because Lady Milton was widely regarded as a stuffy old Gorgon who had long deserved to be brought down a peg or two.
She had a razor tongue and a willingness to use it, unprovoked, and she was reaping the whirlwind now.
Those who chose to laugh unkindly at her did not go to any great trouble to conceal it.
For his part, Lord Milton was widely liked, but nobody imagined that a gentleman so eternally cool, correct and self-possessed could ever have been deeply in love with Miss Constantine.
He had certainly shown no signs of it, and betrayed no hint of chagrin now.
So passionless a wooing was not quite the fashion at present, and besides his need for an heir had been a little too apparent in his courtship – were not Miss Constantine’s older sisters both proverbially fecund, which was no doubt why he had chosen her?
It was universally agreed that there was no need to pity His Lordship too much.
Acute observers thought that he would find another young woman to court before the Season was out; perhaps he already had.
A name was whispered, of a well-connected but sadly impoverished lady.
Sir Harry Eager, Miss Constantine’s other suitor, was visibly downcast when he heard the news of her surprising betrothal, but after a few nights’ drinking with his cronies he appeared to recover most of his good cheer.
He was irrepressible, and besides, some well-meaning person had told him that it added distinction to a fellow, to be crossed in love, like many a dashing buck and blade from history.
It seemed he had taken this to heart. Rumours that he was writing poetry as a result might, it was hoped, be disregarded.
He did write a very kind and surprisingly sensible letter of congratulation to his former love, to which she was able to reply with heartfelt gratitude, telling him – she hoped it didn’t sound too sickly, but she meant it – that the lady who married him one day would be lucky indeed.
A few days before her wedding, Lord Milton called to take Allegra driving in his phaeton at the fashionable hour, and this time he set down his groom at the entrance to the park so that they might converse alone, even if under the public gaze.
‘Half the ton is watching us,’ he murmured, taking a tight corner in fine style.
‘Shall I allow a manly tear to trickle down my cheek? A slight pallor may perhaps be detected there. Am I supposed to be bereft? I really might convince myself that I am, you know. Marriage to you would have been a uniquely thrilling experience.’
‘I’d turned you down before I knew whether or not Max and I would ever have a chance to be together,’ she pointed out unhelpfully. ‘We might not have done, and I still wouldn’t have accepted your offer, I don’t think. Your very flattering offer, naturally, I forgot to say, sir.’
‘Well, it wasn’t all that flattering, was it? But you have the luxury of marrying for love, Miss Constantine. I envy you that.’
‘I know. I am sorry.’ She wondered if he’d found someone else to woo, as her mother had heard, and if he’d go through with it. Whether he’d tell everything to the girl, if so, risking so much again, and what she’d say in response. But it was none of her affair, and so she didn’t ask.
He was the sort of man who could shrug elegantly and drive a high-perch phaeton to an inch at the same time. ‘That sentimental story I read – is it true?’ he asked abruptly.
‘About Max’s father? Substantially. Perhaps it wasn’t quite so neat as the writer made it.
But he has met him, and they… took comfort from each other, I suppose.
It hasn’t been easy for either of them. Max said he was a good man, and had done his best, in difficult circumstances. There’s no bitterness there.’
‘It struck me,’ he told her quietly. ‘Men and their sons, when I have recently been… seriously contemplating the prospect of marriage and fatherhood. I wondered, if any man – if I – had the chance to meet his son for the first time as an adult, with no childhood attachment to cloud the matter, what would they say to each other? Or would one or the other of them indeed choose just to walk away?’
These were deep waters. ‘I know Max doesn’t regret the meeting. I don’t think his father does either, even if it’s never repeated. They don’t owe each other anything; if they remain in contact, it will be because they have chosen freely to do so.’
‘Your betrothed seems to be a forgiving sort of a man. I find that admirable, and rather surprising. I know the story said his father was constrained to abandon him. But still. We can do things with all the justification in the world, or so we tell ourselves, and still find that we are deserving of reproach when it is far too late to mend matters.’
‘Maybe his tolerance will rub off on me. Maybe it has already. I find myself looking quite kindly on my mother these days, even,’ she said, striving for a lighter note.
‘I wish I could say the same. Poor Mama. Perhaps suffering will temper her – she isn’t having a particularly pleasant time at the moment. Don’t ask if she blames you for it; you have met her. I’m going to send you a very handsome wedding present, Allegra Constantine.’
She could only thank him and wish him well. She had clothes to buy, a ceremony to arrange – with her mother’s help, and a great deal of decidedly unhelpful interference from her sisters – and a very short time in which to do it.