Chapter 2 #2
This would be, of course, profoundly distressing: Charlotte had proved capable of keeping herself; and Lord Ingram would never have demanded such a tawdry exchange for his help.
But it shouldn’t be any more distressing than what Livia had already put up with during the Season, with tongues always wagging just beyond—and sometimes just within—her hearing.
And yet she was almost nauseated by anxiety.
The sense of foreboding that had descended when she first read the letter had only grown stronger.
Which was ridiculous. The story wasn’t common knowledge yet.
And even if it should become so, it would simply be an extra serving of unpleasantness in an already unpleasant world.
Lord Ingram’s estate was nearby, was it not? If she sent him a note, he would call on her, wouldn’t he, and assure her that whatever Lady Avery could unleash would only be a passing nuisance, soon dismissed and soon forgotten?
As if the universe heard her plea, Lord Ingram descended the front step of Mrs. Newell’s manor just as Livia’s carriage pulled up.
He wasn’t classically handsome but turned heads anyway, the kind of man who sent a jolt of electricity through a crowd by doing nothing more than stepping into the room.
When he remained still, he made her think of a cobra about to uncoil.
In motion he put her in mind of a large panther, stalking silently through the jungle.
He handed her down from the carriage. “Miss Holmes. I’m glad to see you.”
Usually she found him intimidating, but today his aura of assurance was exactly what she needed. Already she felt a little less panicked. “That sentiment is most certainly reciprocated, my lord. How do you do?”
“I am well. Mrs. Newell informed me that she is expecting you.”
“She has been most kind to extend an invitation. And Lady Ingram, I hope she is much improved?”
His wife’s decampment to a Swiss sanatorium would have been a much bigger topic of gossip had it not happened so close to the end of Season.
When she hadn’t received the ladies who had called on her, as was customary after a ball, it was assumed that her bad back must be bothering her again.
It took will and effort for her to appear graceful in movement, and an entire summer of such pretense exacted a severe toll.
It wasn’t until Society had dispersed to Cowes, Scotland, and hundreds of country houses all over the land that her friends received letters informing them that her health had deteriorated suddenly and it had been deemed prudent that she remove herself to the Alps where she could be properly looked after by a team of German and Swiss physicians.
Livia, like everyone else, hadn’t learned of this development until after she had left London.
She had written Charlotte about it, in the course of their surreptitious correspondence, since Charlotte had, earlier in the summer, asked Livia out of the blue what the latter thought of Lady Ingram’s romantic past, and had even tasked Livia to extract what ladies Avery and Somersby knew of that particular topic.
At the time, distracted by what she had believed to be catastrophic romantic leanings on her own part, Livia had not paid particular attention to Charlotte’s inquiry.
But in light of Lady Ingram’s departure, Livia asked Charlotte in her letter, was it not likely that Charlotte had been correct and Lady Ingram had at last decided to run away with her erstwhile sweetheart?
Charlotte had replied that they ought not to speculate. Livia, however, grew only more convinced over time. And to think, she had begun to thaw a little toward that woman. How abominably she had treated her husband.
“Her physicians assure me that her condition has stabilized,” said Lord Ingram, in response to her question about his wife’s health, “but she is still in need of their expertise.”
Did that mean she truly wasn’t coming back?
“I am glad to hear that,” Livia said. “I hope she continues to improve.”
“Thank you, Miss Holmes. I’m sure she appreciates your kind thoughts.” For a moment she feared he was about to wish her good day and take his leave. But he glanced to his left and asked, “By the way, have you seen Mrs. Newell’s new fountains?”
Thank goodness. It wouldn’t do for them to hold a conversation standing on Mrs. Newell’s front steps.
Nor could they disappear into some cranny in the house or on the grounds.
The fountains were perfectly visible from both the house and the drive and would give their conversation every appearance of propriety, without letting the actual exchange be overheard.
“A glimpse and only a glimpse, I’m afraid,” she said. “Do let us study them in some detail.”
As soon as they were out of earshot, Livia went to the crux of the matter. “I received a detestable letter from Lady Avery. I don’t suppose you were so fortunate as to be spared a similar missive.”
He smiled wryly. “I wasn’t.”
“I have no idea how I ought to respond. I was going to write you as soon as I’d settled in here. Have you replied?”
“I have—and told Lady Avery that it had been a chance encounter.”
Livia had learned from Charlotte that she and Lord Ingram had been in contact—of course Charlotte wouldn’t have left him in suspense as to her fate—but Livia hadn’t expected them to be out in public. “So you did meet at the time and place Lady Avery specified?”
“I’m afraid so.”
And now Lady Avery had his confirmation in writing. “People will draw all kinds of unsavory conclusions!”
They’d walked twice around one fountain; Lord Ingram guided her to the other. “That cannot be helped. Fortunately, their conjectures cannot materially injure Miss Charlotte.”
True. As a fallen woman, Charlotte’s reputation couldn’t be besmirched any further. “What about you, my lord?”
“Me?” There was a trace of amusement in his voice. Or was it irony? “For what it’s worth, I will not be barred from Society for having met with Miss Charlotte in broad daylight.”
This Livia knew. He could have done far worse and not be punished in remotely the same way. Roger Shrewsbury, the man who had compromised Charlotte, was still accepted everywhere he went. “All the same, I hope it won’t prove a nuisance.”
He touched her lightly on the elbow. “It will be a nuisance, but you mustn’t worry, Miss Holmes. It’ll be forgotten by Christmas. And life will go on, for both Miss Charlotte and myself.”
His attentiveness, his confidence, his matter-of-fact approach to the upcoming brouhaha—Livia could not have hoped for a kinder or more fortifying reception.
Basking in his presence, she felt downright silly about her undue agitation, making a Matterhorn out of a molehill.
Indeed, by the time he took his leave, she was smiling.
But the moment he disappeared from sight, uncertainty came rushing back, accompanied by a cold, hard dread. It will not end well, said a voice in her head.
It cannot possibly end well.