Pain and guilt flared as she thought of Hillram, before she quickly shut him back into the fathomless box her heart had become.
Even so, a memory had escaped, a creeping tendril that wound about her and would not be ignored. Hillram’s face, still and pale as death had claimed him. A sight that would haunt her the rest of her days.
She had been given a year to mourn him before she had been paraded before the single aristocrats of London, a berry ripe for the picking in exchange for their support of her father’s political aspirations. An engagement had been made, with Lord Fig. When that man had run off to Gretna Green with his housekeeper, her father had matched her with Lord Landon. Who was now on the run for attempted murder.
Again that mad laugh threatened. She clamped her lips closed and gripped her gloved fingers tight in the silver netting of her gown. Perhaps her father was right, that there was something wrong with her. Why else could she not see an engagement through?
Her father grew alarmingly red and drew himself up, leveling an accusatory stare on Margery. “And you didn’t think to warn us before we walked into that nest of vipers at St. George’s?”
“The news reached me as you arrived,” Margery countered. “You know I would never knowingly put Lenora in such a position.”
He turned furious eyes on Lenora then. “Just as well you’re packed. Though it won’t be a wedding trip you’ll be taking.”
“You’re sending me away?” He couldn’t mean it. They were all each other had for family.
“Of course I’m sending you away.” He looked out the carriage window at the passing scenery. “Think of the scandal. Your third failed attempt at marriage? You’ll be a laughingstock.”
Lenora pressed a fist into her roiling midsection, trying and failing to tamp down on the hurt that surged at her father’s words. It was only logical that he would want her far away from London at a time like this, she reasoned. And mayhap there was a silver lining to it all, in that she would finally be free of the unending social whirl her life had become.
She took a deep breath, nodding firmly. “Perhaps it’s for the best. I can access my trust in a few years and quietly retire after that.”
“You fool,” her father spat, turning blazing eyes on her. “If you think this is the end of it, you are mistaken. While you’re in the country, I’ll be clearing your name as best I can. With luck, I may secure you a husband by the winter. Perhaps,” he muttered, “Lord Gregson’s heir will be willing to overlook the stain on your name. Or even Viscount Burgess. They both owe me a great deal, after all.”
Lenora’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “You cannot mean to bring about yet another engagement.”
“I can and I will,” he said, his voice as icy as she had ever heard it. He leveled a hard stare on her. “I’ll give you the rest of the summer, Lenora, to lick your wounds. At the end of that time you’d best be ready to do your duty and marry where I say you shall. And you’d best do all in your power to keep it from falling through this time around. Or you shall be cut off without a cent to your name.”
That devastating proclamation was still ringing through the air when the coach arrived at the townhouse. The servants were ready and waiting, their faces wreathed in smiles. Those cheery expressions were quickly wiped, however, as her father stormed through the front door. “Lock up the house,” he ordered, “and don’t let a damn person through the door. Unless it’s Lord Landon. Then I will be happy to see him so I might wring his damned neck.”
He headed for the stairs. Lenora, stunned, watched him go. She willed him to turn back to her, to say one kind thing after the devastation of the day. At the top he finally looked back. Lenora held her breath, hope filling her.
His eyes swept past her to settle on the garlands of roses that decorated the front hall. “And have these damn flowers taken down at once. The smell is making me sick.”
As he stalked out of sight, a roaring filled Lenora’s ears. He had never been one to indulge in softer emotions. Yet after the upheaval of the morning, his refusal to offer even one kind word made her feel as if she’d been punched. It was several long seconds before that miasma of shock was broken by Margery.
“Please send some of the wedding breakfast up to Miss Hartley’s sitting room, Mrs. Clark,” she murmured to the housekeeper. “And some champagne as well. We could use something to fortify us.”
“Of course, Mrs. Kitteridge,” the housekeeper said, rushing off.
Lenora felt a hand beneath her arm, and then she was being guided up the gleaming staircase. She shook her head sharply, trying to regain control of her thoughts.
“You should not have ordered up the champagne,” she managed through the fog of shock. “What will the servants think?”
“I think, dear heart, the servants are the very last thing you should worry about.”
Of courseMargery was right. Lenora’s whole world was imploding. In the grand scheme of things, a little champagne in the morning was not of concern.
They made it to her suite of rooms in short order. As Lenora collapsed into an overstuffed chair, she became aware of how quiet it was. This house should be ringing with voices and laughter, the rooms bursting with people, the wedding cake in all its frosted decadence gushed over.
Instead she was locked away in her sitting room, dressed in a creased silver wedding gown and surrounded by trunks full of belongings that now had no set destination, while the food went to waste down below.
As if reading her thoughts, Margery came close and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Shall I help you into something else?”
Lenora looked down at the beautiful dress, created so carefully to her father’s specifications. “Yes.”
Margery glanced at the bronze traveling gown that hung ready for the wedding trip that would never come. Frowning, she ducked into the bedroom. From behind the door there came the sounds of shifting trunks, lids being opened, then slammed shut. When she reappeared, she held in her hands a well-worn pale green gown with twining green leaves embroidered at the hem.One of my favorites.Of course Margery would know it was. Her friend knew everything about her, from what books she read to how she hated tea with a passion.
Well, she knew nearly everything.
