Chapter 15
“You’ve had your head down all evening, m’dear. You look positively pale. Are you ill?” Mrs. Pembroke sank down on the sofa beside June, looking as concerned as a mother hen.
June only wished she had such a mother. Her own had died when she was six-years-old from a fever.
Miss Pembroke did not know just how lucky she was to have such a kind and caring woman to shepherd her about.
Sometimes June thought that if she’d had a strong female presence in her life, she would never have made the same choices. Especially when it came to rushing into such a disastrous marriage out of fear.
But then, perhaps her mother would have been as disapproving of Cameron and of June’s mistakes as her father had been.
“Perhaps I am coming down with something,” she murmured, hoping this would be enough for Mrs. Pembroke.
She should have known it would not be.
Mrs. Pembroke was quiet for a moment. “My dear, if there is something troubling you, I’m here should you wish to speak about it.”
June bit her lip. The offer was too kind. She was sorely tempted.
To talk would be a relief, yes. Especially as she felt very close to bursting into tears right then and there in her own drawing room surrounded by the other female guests who were chattering and playing cards while they waited for the menfolk to come in.
“Oh, my lady,” Mrs. Pembroke murmured. “I can see from your face that something is not right. Will you not take a stroll around the room and speak to me about it?”
June looked around the drawing room then shook her head with regret. “My husband… I mean, the men will be here any moment. I couldn’t possibly…” She trailed off.
Mrs. Pembroke studied her in silence. “Well, then we must just leave the room, mustn’t we?” She rose to her feet. “I believe I’ve forgotten my reticle in my bedchamber. My handkerchief is in there. And I find I simply can’t be without a handkerchief for an instant while I’m in the country. The blooms and blossoms, you know, play havoc with my nose.” She feigned a loud sneeze and a few ladies turned to look at them. “My hay fever, you know,” she announced to the room. “Summer catarrh. Terribly vexing, these ill humors.”
She tugged on June’s arm. “Countess, you simply must escort me. All of this sneezing–” She feigned another loud eruption. “All of this sneezing leaves me quite faint. And as you can see, my daughter is quite occupied with her game of whist.” Indeed, Miss Pembroke had not even lifted her head. Perhaps she was too used to her mama’s sneezing fits. “I couldn’t possibly pull her away. To do so would be quite cruel.”
“No,” June said. “Of course. I should be happy to assist.”
Mrs. Pembroke met June’s eyes and gave her a small wink. “Wonderful.” The matron stoutly steered them both out of the room and towards the main floor east wing where the majority of guests were housed.
They walked in silence for a few moments until they were away from the drawing room and a safe distance from the gallery where the men had retired to smoke and drink.
“There. I believe that should do it, don’t you?” Mrs. Pembroke said with satisfaction.
“Quite safe.” June tried to force a smile. “But really, you didn’t have to go to all of this trouble. I’m fine. There’s nothing to discuss.”
Mrs. Pembroke gave her a knowing look but said nothing. “Here now. We’ve reached my room. Step inside with me for a moment while I find that reticule…”
June followed her into the bedchamber.
Mrs. Pembroke’s room had been kept neat and tidy, not only due to the servants’ maintenance but also because Mrs. Pembroke seemed to be keeping her luggage very well organized. June had heard the servants speak of some guests who tossed their cases open and left clothes strewn on every surface.
She wondered if Cameron was the sort to keep his room neat. Yes, she decided. He would have everything folded and organized, not only because he traveled with a capable-looking valet but because that was simply the kind of man Cameron was. He liked to have things in order.
Not like the disorderly life June was currently living. She felt as if everything was in havoc.
Now here was Cameron, trying to set it right. But in the process…
She let out a hiccup that only partially hid a choked sob.
“Not all marriages are happy ones, are they, my dear?”
“Excuse me?”
“My marriage to Mr. Pembroke was not a particularly happy one,” Mrs. Pembroke said, looking at her thoughtfully from where she stood by the dressing table. “When he passed, Amelia was just a little thing. She hardly remembers him. I’ve always thought that was for the best. Some men aren’t worth knowing. Are they?”
“I…suppose not,” June hedged.
“What a terrible truth though, isn’t it? A husband ought to be a protector of his family. Not someone a wife has to fear.” Mrs. Pembroke rifled through a drawer and pulled out a little beaded purse. “There we are. My reticule and my handkerchiefs.” She waved it in the air. “My nose shall be quite safe now. Shall we return? That is, if there’s truly nothing you wished to speak of?”
She stood there, looking so kind and patient. Mrs. Pembroke was not the sort of lady to simply fish for gossip for its own sake. June felt quite sure of that.
“There’s…” June cleared her throat. Was she really going to do this? Confide in a near stranger? But then, she had no closer female friends. One or two ladies in the neighborhood had tried to strike up friendships with her before. But they seemed to lose interest. June wasn’t one for gossip and it took her a long time to come to trust a person. She supposed she hadn’t been open enough with them as quickly as they had hoped and they had resented that.
Now Mrs. Pembroke was offering her a chance. A chance to form a female friendship. A chance to trust another person with what was on her mind.
She longed to take it.
“There’s to be a duel tomorrow,” she rushed out.
Once the words were out, she immediately felt dizzy. She sank onto the edge of the bed.
“Heavens!” Mrs. Pembroke exclaimed. “No wonder your mind is elsewhere. I suppose your husband is involved? The fool of a man.”
“Yes, my husband is one of the participants.” June bit her lip.
“And the other? No, don’t tell me. I’m sure I can guess.”
“Can you?” June looked at the older woman in surprise.
“Of course, my dear. It must be the Highlander duke. A noble man if I ever saw one. He clearly cares for you.”
“I…” June stared. “How did you know that? How do you see so much?”
Mrs. Pembroke smiled modestly. “I don’t see everything, believe me. I miss a great deal. But the duke rather stands out, doesn’t he?”
“He does,” June agreed. “At least, he does to me.”
“He’s a fine figure of a man. The look of a brawny warrior to him. And a gentleman besides. A true gentleman. Not merely one who puts on airs and wears the right clothes as so many titled men do. One can always tell.”
The implication was clearly that the earl was decidedly of this second, inferior kind. June was not about to disagree.
“Don’t you… Don’t you wish to know what the duel is being fought for?” June asked hesitantly.
“Well, my dear, a duel is almost always fought over a woman. Though with younger, more foolish men I suppose there are sometimes other things at stake that they feel are worth risking their lives–a gambling disagreement or a perceived insult. But no, in this case, I feel certain it is over a woman. And that means it is about you, of course.” Mrs. Pembroke tilted her head thoughtfully. “Though I shouldn’t have said I expected your husband to enter into such a thing. He doesn’t particularly strike me as a man who is likely to defend a woman’s honor. Even his own wife’s. Nor does the duke seem like the sort of man who would dishonor a lady. No matter what that silly Brazen Belle column suggested.”
“Oh, Mrs. Pembroke,” June said faintly. “Everything is turned quite on its head. You have no idea.”
Mrs. Pembroke moved over to the bed and sat down next to June. “Then tell me, my dear. I am all ears.”
“My husband doesn’t even know I’m aware of the duel at all. Cameron–the Duke of Tulloch, I mean.” She blushed. “The duke was the one to inform me of it. He had a letter brought to my room.”
“I see. I suppose that was very considerate of him. In my experience, men like to keep these things hidden until one of them is dead or gravely wounded.”
June blanched. “I believe he felt I should know and that there was nothing I could do to stop him–them–anyhow. You see, the duke and I–we knew each other in our youth. We grew up near one another.” She hesitated, then added, “We loved each other, Mrs. Pembroke. We were very young but we were supposed to be married. We had… made promises to one another.”
“My goodness,” Mrs. Pembroke murmured. “Well, that explains a good deal. A first love lingers in the heart for a lifetime.”
June closed her eyes. “I believe that to be true. I certainly feel it is. I made a vow to Cameron. Then, through no fault of his own, he was forced to vanish. I married John instead. I’ve never taken my vows for granted, though I must confess I’ve always felt I had already broken the most important one when I married John instead of Cameron.”
“But your husband certainly has, hasn’t he?” Mrs. Pembroke’s voice was dry. “Broken vows, I mean. He and that hussy, the Dowager.” She humphed. “Dowager, my rump. She’s a hussy and not deserving of an honorable title in the least.”
June gaped. “Then you know? I had no idea. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Pembroke. I promise you, I didn’t realize John planned to include her in the house party when all of this was planned. I hope it won’t affect Amelia’s future.”
“Oh, don’t worry about Amelia,” Mrs. Pembroke said. “My Amelia is doing quite well for herself. One of the gentlemen you invited is quite smitten with her and has already invited us to another house party being hosted at his own estate next month.”
“I’m so relieved,” June murmured. “What good news for her.”
“Yes, well, we’ll see what comes of it. But she seems taken with him as well and he does seem a decent sort of man with a good head on his shoulders.”
“She’s a lovely young woman and I’m very happy for her.” June shook her head. “I wish her every happiness.” Every happiness June had never had.
“What happiness could you have had, my love?” Mrs. Pembroke said softly, as if reading her thoughts. “From what I understand, things have been brewing between the Dowager and your husband since before you even arrived at Windermere. What chance did you stand, coming into such a mess?”
“I’ve often wondered,” June choked out. “If John might have been kinder otherwise.”
“Perhaps,” Mrs. Pembroke agreed. “But likely not. Men are such a way because they want to be. Because it gives them a feeling of power. Not because of anything you’ve done, right or wrong.”
June felt a tear trickle down her cheek. “But oh, Mrs. Pembroke, I’ve done so much wrong. I’m not sure how much I should say… It may greatly shock you.”
“I’m not easily shocked, my dear. And I assure you, there is nothing my Amelia could tell me that could make me love her less. I feel a similar affection for you. You’re so young, June.” Mrs. Pembroke sighed. “I hope you’ll pardon me for using your Christian name.”
“I quite like it. I don’t have many friends.”
“Well, then. You must count me as one. Now, I assume you’ll be endeavoring to attend the duel tomorrow?”
“I must. For I plan to stop them,” June said with determination. “That is why I have been so quiet all evening. It won’t be easy, knowing Cameron. I have no idea what time the duel is planned for or where it shall be held.”
“The duke wishes to protect you. By killing the earl.”
The words were stark but true.
“It sounds quite wicked when you say it like that, but yes. He’s seen what my marriage is really like, you see, and…” She trailed off.
“He can’t stand leaving you in such misery,” Mrs. Pembroke said matter-of-factly. “Quite understandable for a man who truly loves you. But of course, things could go very wrong. I don’t doubt he’s well-trained, but accidents happen. I assume your husband is not incapable with a weapon?”
“John is very skilled with a pistol,” June admitted. She clenched the bed cover with both hands. “He could easily kill Cameron tomorrow.”
“And then you’d be even worse off. Yes, I see.” Mrs. Pembroke shook her head. “Still, trying to come between two men determined to murder one another is not something I’d particularly recommend, my dear. A very dangerous thing. And not likely to be successful.”
“I don’t care. I must try,” June said desperately. “I’d rather remain here with John and know that Cameron is alive and healthy than… than the alternative.”
Mrs. Pembroke nodded. “That’s true love then. No doubt of it.”
“I love him,” June acknowledged. “I have always loved him and only him. I’ve thought it was very wicked of me to not be able to stop. To not be able to find a way to ever love John.”
Mrs. Pembroke frowned. “Your husband is an adulterer. Many men are, of course, but few throw it in their wives face so very blatantly the way yours has. I think it says a great deal about the lack of respect he has for you, I’m sad to say.”
“Mrs. Pembroke,” June said suddenly. “I must tell you something. About a very strange encounter I had with Horatia this morning. Perhaps you’ll be able to make something of it that I can’t. It left me very unsettled.”
Quickly she relayed the events of the meeting, being particularly careful to make mention of the Parish Records book she had seen Horatia holding.
“A parish records book, you say?” Mrs. Pembroke said thoughtfully when June had finished. “From a church that burnt down thirteen years ago? I agree, it’s very strange indeed, though I can’t say I know what to make of it.”
“Nor do I,” June said dejectedly.
And yet she felt there was something there. Some piece that she was missing.
“Well, my dear, it’s growing late. I don’t believe I will return to the drawing room this evening. Honestly, I don’t think I could face that hussy again tonight without slapping her in the face on your behalf.”
June smiled. “I don’t think that would be wise.”
Mrs. Pembroke grimaced. “Men are permitted to have their duels to the death and women are not even allowed to scratch one another’s eyes out. The contradiction is truly unfair, is it not?”
“Most unfair,” June agreed.
Especially when Horatia had threatened her in such an open and unashamed manner. Just what did the woman have over June that she felt she could do such a thing?
“Now we must both get some rest. A duel at dawn…” Mrs. Pembroke yawned. “What time do you think that will be? Shall we say four, just to be on the safe side?”
“That is what I was thinking as well,” June admitted.
Mrs. Pembroke walked her to the door. “I won’t say ‘sleep well’ because I know that’s an impossibility. So I’ll simply say goodnight. Oh, that’s unlikely, too.” She touched June’s cheek gently. “But nevertheless, goodnight, my dear. Rest knowing that there is someone besides the duke who is wishing you the best. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Pembroke.”
When the door had closed behind her, June stood in the hall alone. She knew sleep would not be forthcoming.
Part of her longed to go to Cameron. To throw herself at his feet and beg him to call off the duel.
Another part of her longed to simply throw herself at his feet and beg him to do what he wished with her.
After all, this might be his last night on earth.
But in the end, she did neither. She went to her room and dressed for bed. But with no intention of sleeping, she spent the night curled up on the bench by her window, watching the moon and waiting for the sun. In the morning, she would do everything in her power to save the man she loved.
Come hell or highwater.