Chapter 1 #2
The annulment had been quietly managed. Easier than it might have been, given that at the time he had been nobody in particular.
A Viscount’s son. Not someone the scandal sheets usually bothered with.
He had been grateful for his obscurity then, even if he had resented it at every other point in his life.
“I know,” James said, more gently. “I know it. And I am sorry for raising it.”
“Think nothing of it,” Gideon said, though his tone made clear he would prefer they did precisely that. “Now, you were in the middle of counselling me on my behaviour.”
James raised both hands. “Far be it from me to tell you what to do. But I do think that if you have any hope of being respected as a Duke, you ought to truly make some effort to cease being quite such a rake.”
“I detest that label. I am not, nor have I ever been, a rake. I am a man who appreciates beauty, high-spiritedness, and a sharp wit in a woman.”
“I see,” James replied, chuckling now. “So, the stories of your romps through the finest drawing rooms of London, Scotland, and a considerable portion of Ireland have been greatly exaggerated?”
Gideon leaned forward and clapped his arm around his friend. “I did not say that. If my appreciation for a lady every now and again concludes with a roll between the sheets, then so be it. But I am no rake. I have never once in my life ruined a woman — knowingly or unknowingly.”
His tone grew serious, for it was one of the things he prided himself upon. He liked the ladies, but he was not the sort who would leave one in terrible circumstances.
“Anyhow, I ought to find Lady Clara and see if she has any friends unattached.”
“Speaking of her friends,” James said, and stepped back so that Gideon’s arm dropped. “Did you ask her about Lady Helena?”
“Lady who?”
“Lady Helena Vale.”
“Lady Helena Vale,” Gideon repeated. “I haven’t the faintest notion who that is.”
“She was married to Lord Vale, Baron Vale. The one who died falling of his roof last year. Her situation is very unfortunate. I am surprised you did not know.” Sensing that this was all unfamiliar to him, his friend continued.
“Her father was Captain Thomas Hartwell. I think you served under him in the militia before I joined up.”
That triggered a response at once. Captain Thomas Hartwell.
Helena. Helena Hartwell. Could it be? It was as though lightning had struck nearby, unexpectedly as he had not thought of her for many years.
And Lady Helena? She was married now? Oh, it came to him. He’d known this. He’d seen her with her husband. At her father’s funeral.
“By Jove. Hartwell! Of course I remember him. One does not forget a man who has saved one’s life. I recall his daughter.” He recalled something else too, but he wasn’t going to share that with his friend. Not now.
“Well,” James said, “she is in low water now, I’m afraid.
Lord Vale left considerable debts behind, and the marriage was by all accounts not a happy one.
She has moved from Bath, where Vale’s family are from, to a modest house in Bloomsbury.
She has an infant daughter. Lavinia. And very little else.
I hear she hasn’t a sixpence to rub together.
Lady Clara has been helping her. I am surprised you did not know. ”
Gideon leaned back against the wall. The noise of the ballroom felt very far away.
“I have been rather occupied,” he said, more to himself than to James. It had been a dizzying year. He had thought of Hartwell’s daughter occasionally, had assumed she was settled and safe with a husband to look after her. It had not occurred to him to check.
That, he reflected, had been a grave error of judgment.
“What of her mother?” he asked.
“Passed away some years ago.” James studied him with curiosity. Gideon considered this, then turned to his friend.
“James, do you happen to know the address in Bloomsbury?”
James blinked. Then slowly, a look of resigned recognition crossed his face.
“I do,” he said. “Though I suspect I will regret telling you.”
Gideon was not listening. He was occupied with the past. For the truth was, he had known Captain Hartwell more than well. After all, Captain Hartwell had once saved Gideon’s life.
For a time, he had been like the father Gideon had broken with. If it were not for Captain Hartwell and his sound advice, Gideon might never have made up with his father and resolved their differences. He’d have robbed himself of a chance to know and appreciate his father properly.
He had truly admired him. So much so, when Captain Hartwell had taken him aside one night and confided in him about things he truly had no business being involved in, Gideon had felt honored.
So honored, he’d readily agreed when Captain Hartwell asked him to make a promise.
To protect his daughter should she ever find herself at point non plus. To be her protector if Captain Hartwell could not. He’d made the promise gladly and with the intention of keeping it.
Yet, he’d kept it badly. In fact, he hadn’t thought of Helena Hartwell since the day of Captain Hartwell’s funeral four years ago. He had seen but not spoken to her for she’d been in the company of her husband. The young baron who he had just learned had passed away.
What a rotten apple I am. To give my word and then not only not keep it but to forget it entirely. Dishonorable and utterly deplorable.
Well, he wasn’t going to be any of those things anymore. It might be a little late, but he wasn’t going to disappoint his old superior any further.
He was going to Bloomsbury at first light, find Helena Hartwell, and make good on his promise.