Chapter Seven
Crowds thronged the streets of London and the sticky August heat carried unpleasant odors to every corner of the city, even the wealthier regions around Hyde Park and Mayfair.
Roland Montgomery tugged at his cravat and tried to avoid bumping into a group of ladies who had stopped to exchange greetings on the pavement.
He had escaped the noise and stench of London for a few weeks by visiting an old uncle in Hertfordshire but was now back to complete a few matters of business before he could finally return home to the cool green quietness of High Fell Manor in Cumbria at the end of the week.
The time spent at his uncle’s house near Aldbury had almost made him forget the crush and crowds of the capital city.
He swore as he had to modify his pace to accommodate a gaggle of youths sauntering along the road as if they had nowhere to go and nothing to do.
He almost crashed into a maid servant who was hurrying home after running errands.
A parcel fell out of her basket as she tilted it to avoid bashing into a passerby.
Roland was the only person on the street who stopped to help her.
He squared his shoulders and began to ascend the stairs.
By now, Robert Walker had no doubt finalized the marriage settlement with Lord Burroughs and if the wedding had not yet happened, it would take place soon enough.
Roland was not the kind of man who wasted his life regretting what could never be.
He strode up the steps to the imposing front door of the house, arriving at the same time as the Blythes and Major Enderby.
Greetings were exchanged as the butler ushered them into the cool foyer.
Grace looked up at the major as he helped her with her cloak and she placed her hand on his arm in a way that showed she was far more at ease with her betrothed than she had been a few weeks earlier.
She said something and he leaned closer to her, with a soft smile.
Roland dismissed the rush of relief that was released in his heart at the sight.
Within a few days he would have left London and the turmoil of Gwendolyn Burroughs and all the people around her who were affected by her flirtatiousness would be behind him forever.
He had failed in his mission to separate her from Robert, but he could become resigned to that over time, especially if he never saw them.
The group followed a footman upstairs and into a large salon with walls covered in deep red that made it very difficult for the dozens of candles to brighten the room.
Guests were gathering in small groups but none had chosen to take a seat on one of the fashionable chairs with legs so spindly they looked as if they would break if anyone heavier than a child sat on one.
The chairs were arranged around a piano where a gentleman was fussing with the position of a straight-backed chair and a young woman was arranging sheet music. Roland suppressed a sigh. Musicales were not his favorite way to spend an evening. The next few hours promised to be tedious.
*
Mariana peered out of Gwendolyn’s bedroom window. “Your mother’s guests are arriving. We had better go down soon.”
Gwendolyn hmphed and continued to rub some rouge onto her unusually pale cheeks. She made no other response to Mariana but tilted her head and studied her reflection in the mirror before rubbing her cheeks again.
“The Blythes have arrived, and Grace looks so much more relaxed with Major Enderby. I’m glad they decided to marry in London and not in Sussex so we can attend the wedding.
” It was quite unlike Mariana to rattle on in this fashion but over the last few weeks, Gwendolyn had been unusually taciturn.
She had never revealed all the details of her encounter with Robert Walker the night of the Cartwrights’ ball, and Mariana wondered if they had quarreled.
He had sent excuses almost every time Lady Burroughs had invited him to dinner and Gwendolyn avoided him at parties and dances. All talk of marriage had fizzled out.
Gwendolyn was finally satisfied with the color of her cheeks and she stood up. Meg, the senior parlor maid who usually doubled as a lady’s maid for Gwendolyn, eased a pale blue silk evening dress over Gwendolyn’s head and shoulders. She began to fasten the row of tiny buttons at the back.
“Ow, don’t pull so tight, Meg,” Gwendolyn complained.
“I’m sorry, Miss. The buttons are not closing easily today.”
Gwendolyn glowered over her shoulder at the housemaid. “Are you suggesting that I’m getting fat?”
Meg wisely refrained from replying but her mouth pulled tight as she battled with the dress.
Miss Burroughs had been unusually grumpy recently.
And she was growing larger even though she was eating very little.
Meg had also noticed that the young miss was unwell in the mornings.
She had her thoughts about Miss Burroughs’s condition, but it was not her place to say anything.
With an effort, she finally managed to fasten the buttons and she stood back.
Gwendolyn smiled sheepishly at her. “Thank you, Meg. You are very patient with my moods. I don’t know what’s wrong with me recently.”
Meg smiled back. “That’s all right, Miss. You look very pretty tonight.”
Mariana, ever faithful, took her cousin’s hand and squeezed it. “Meg’s right. You do look lovely. Are you feeling better?”
Gwendolyn had been beset by queasiness for a while and her appetite was not as robust as it usually was. Certain foods she usually adored now made her feel nauseous and her moods had become unpredictable.
Sleeping was difficult and she was plagued by frequent headaches and constant fatigue. Most nights, she tossed and turned in her bed, racked by guilt and anger that had been eating away at her since she had allowed Robert Walker to take her maidenhead.
She fastened a rosebud to her dress and tugged on her lace gloves. “Come along, Mariana. It’s time to descend.” She cocked her head and eyed her cousin critically. “You look pretty, too. That soft green brings out the copper tints in your hair and the green flecks in your eyes.”
Mariana snorted. “You might as well add my freckles to the list of features that are not fashionable, and then you will have a perfect description of a freckled, red-haired freak.” She had no pretensions to beauty and was not jealous of her cousin’s prettiness.
But Gwendolyn stopped half-way down the staircase, her eyes serious. “You shouldn’t run yourself down like that. There is kindness in your eyes and sweetness in your expression that is far more attractive than all the rouge in the world.”
They continued their descent, and Gwendolyn murmured, almost to herself, “Sometimes I think that being born pretty is something of a curse.”
They reached the drawing room and a footman opened the door for them. Gwendolyn’s eyes swept over the assembled guests. She frowned slightly when she saw Roland Montgomery. “I didn’t know he was back in London,” she said under her breath.
“Who? Oh, Lord Montgomery. I wonder where he’s been for the last few weeks.” Mariana didn’t add that although the baron was there, his cousin had not even bothered to reply to the invitation.
Bonnie spotted them and waved them over.
“It’s so good to see you,” she began. “The Season is almost over. I’m looking forward to going home after Grace’s wedding, but it’s going to be a bit lonely after being able to see you almost every day.
I wish Grace and Major Enderby could move closer to Ashden Green. ”
Grace smiled at her sister. “You’ll be so busy attending assemblies and visiting neighbors that you’ll hardly notice that I’m not there.”
A commotion at the door drew their attention.
Lady Murgatroyd, resplendent in deep purple satin with a mauve wrap of light chiffon, swept into the room.
She nodded a greeting at the nearest group of guests and held her quizzing glass up to study the fragile chairs.
“Bring me a chair that will not fall to bits when I sit down,” she ordered.
The nearest footman scuttled off to do her bidding.
An annoyed Lady Burroughs came forward to greet her, signing to the butler to bring the elderly lady a glass of sherry.
Gwendolyn dodged behind the other girls, not wanting to confront her formidable great aunt. She waved her fan in front of her face. The room was becoming overheated and she felt a little faint. The conversations around her sounded like buzzing and hissing and she couldn’t distinguish any words.
“Gwen? Gwennie? Are you all right? You’ve turned so pale.” Mariana peered at her anxiously.
“I’m all right,” Gwendolyn tried to assure her, but she gulped trying to draw in some fresh air.
“Here, I think you need a glass of wine.” A deep voice broke through the concerned buzz of the girls’ voices. Gwendolyn took the glass gratefully, only realizing after she had drunk some of the wine that the person who had brought it to her was Lord Roland Montgomery.
Annoyance and embarrassment flooded through her and a sharp retort rose to her lips but when his eyes caught hers, she paused. “Thank you,” she said instead, and sincerely meant it.
“My pleasure. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“I am feeling better, thank you, although still a little light-headed.”
“Perhaps you should sit down for a bit,” suggested Grace.
Gwendolyn followed her advice, sinking down into the nearest chair. “I’m sorry to be such a nuisance,” she tried to say, but the words caught in her throat and she hastily hid her mouth with her hand to hide a cough.
“Take another sip of wine,” Mariana urged.
Gwendolyn did so, and pulled a face. “Ugh! I don’t like wine.”
Montgomery raised an eyebrow, wondering what had brought about such a change-around in Gwendolyn who had been known on occasion to drink more than was usually considered suitable for a young lady, but for the moment, he was more concerned with her immediate comfort.