Chapter 5
“They say the dark-haired beauty was married to the earl’s elder brother.”
Cameron sighed. The baronet had found him once more. In a party of only thirty guests, he supposed it was to be expected. Evidently the man had marked him and they were to become fast friends. Not to mention because the baronet had suggested he, too, was seeking investments.
Despite his qualms about the baronet himself, the duke was curious. “They say?”
They had adjourned to the earl’s library for brandy and cigars after dinner, and now had rejoined the ladies in the drawing room.
Some of the guests were playing vingt-et-un at a card table in the corner. Miss Pembroke was seated at the pianoforte, flipping through sheets of music.
The duke glanced around the room until he found what he sought.
The countess was seated on a low sofa listening to Miss Pembroke’s mother as she prattled. Every so often June would smile softly and nod her head at the plump, rosy-cheeked matron. She looked to be an empathetic listener.
She had been a kind girl, back when Cameron had known her. Or at least, he had thought so then.
“Well, she is the Dowager Countess,” the baronet admitted.
Cameron rolled his eyes. “That seems rather conclusive, dinna ye think?”
“You would think so, wouldn’t you?” The baronet’s eyes were sharp like those of a fox. “Yet the circumstances were rather strange.”
“Oh?” Again, curiosity got the better of him.
“Yes. The marriage was exceptionally brief.”
A pause. Clearly the baronet was waiting to be asked.
Cameron rolled his eyes and did as expected. “How brief?”
“One night.”
“One night?” Cameron was shocked despite himself. He frowned. “That’s hardly a marriage.”
“Isn’t it? Yet a son came of it.”
That part of things was not uncommon. Many couples had romantic liaisons long before their wedding night.
“What happened to the bridegroom? The earl’s brother?”
“I’m so glad you asked. He died. Tragically, I’m afraid. There was a fire at the parish church. He and the visiting vicar lost their lives in the blaze.”
“A fire at the wedding?” The duke glanced across the room at where Horatia Fairchild stood near the pianoforte in a group of guests. The dowager trailed a hand gracefully over its surface, then tilted her head back and laughed at something one of the men had said. “Yet the bride was unscathed?”
“Exceedingly fortunate, wasn’t it? I’m uncertain as to whether the fire occurred directly after the wedding or whether the nuptials had in fact taken place earlier in the day.”
The duke smirked. “Ah, so yer all-knowingness doesn’t extend quite that far.”
“It does not,” the baronet admitted.
“Ye have uncannily familiar sources for a man with so little acquaintance with the Fairfield family.”
“I pride myself on being well-informed,” the baronet said. “And my friend–the one I told you was too ill to accompany me–was very well-acquainted with the situation, being a distant relative himself. In any case, I won’t apologize for my knowledge. You must admit it is an intriguing story.”
“An intriguing bit of gossip, more like it,” Cameron said with a frown. “From all ye have said, there’s an adulterer and a harlot in our midst and a poor woman whose marriage is no more than a farce.”
“Ah, is that sympathy for the Lady Windermere I detect in your voice, Your Grace? And here I thought you said you preferred the dark not the fair.”
“‘Tis nothing to do with the lass’s looks and everything to do with right and wrong,” Cameron snapped.
“I quite agree,” the baronet said smoothly. “Would you excuse me? I believe I’ll join the next game of whist they’re starting.”
He moved off to the card table and left Cameron still frowning where he stood.
“What a wild success your party is already, darling.”
June had just been thinking of slipping off. She was the hostess, yes, but she was also exhausted. The evening had been more of a strain than she had expected. Now that the men had joined the ladies in the drawing room and games were being played and conversation was in full swing, she thought John might forgive her for leaving a little early.
“Thank you, Horatia. But as you know, the party was all John’s doing, not mine.”
“He is a truly resourceful man, isn’t he?” Horatia said, smiling in June’s husband’s direction.
June said nothing. It had become one of Horatia’s habits–to praise John to her. As if she did not very well know June had far less to say about John’s good points and far more to say about his bad.
“The duke seems very taken with you, June,” Horatia observed. “Why, he’s been staring at you all evening.”
June shook her head. “As we were seated beside one another at dinner, that’s only to be expected. I’m one of the few people he’s acquainted with. But I’m sure that will soon change.”
“Nonsense. You’re a lovely woman and he’s clearly attracted to you. Why, it’s just what John hoped for. You’re certain to charm him, even if John does not.”
June said nothing. Evidently John and Horatia had schemed together on exactly the sort of part June would play.
Unfortunately for them both, it wouldn’t be enough. June was not stupid enough to believe that Cameron would actually invest in one of John’s mad plans.
“Of course, that column changes things a bit, doesn’t it?” Horatia shook her head in false sympathy. “I’ll talk to John about it, shall I? Try to calm him down. After all, it wasn’t your fault that Brazen Belle woman said what she said, is it?”
Here it was. The part where June was supposed to express her gratitude that her husband’s mistress was offering to smooth things over for her.
At first, June had been angry. But after years and years of this, anger had turned into resignation.
“Thank you, Horatia. That would be most kind.” It was the only thing to say. For turning her fury upon Horatia would be the worst idea possible. She had learned this–only once, but once had been enough.
It was better to play her part. The part she had been cast to play. Dutiful, obedient wife. Blind to what was going on around her. Just as Horatia was playing the part of a loving, dutiful cousin, blind to what her cousin did to his wife in the privacy of their home.
June touched a hand to her head.
“A headache?” Horatia asked, watching her keenly. “If you’d like to go upstairs, I’d be happy to keep an eye on things here for you.”
“Would you? That’s very kind.” And exactly what Horatia had hoped for, June knew. To play the part of mistress of Windermere as much as she could get away with.
June left the room without a backward glance. Not even one for Cameron McBain, the Duke of Tulloch, who, she knew, without even having to think about it, had been standing by the tall west window listening to the pianoforte and looking heartbreakingly handsome.