“I am sorry—” he began, but his words were met with a chorus of protests.
“You were one of the victims of that shocking episode last evening, Lord Hodges,” the dowager duchess said. “You havenothingfor which to apologize.”
“We were all agreed upon that long before you came,” her sister, Lady Molenor, said. “You did nothing amiss.”
“But it was indeed good of you to come today, Lord Hodges,” Lady Matilda added. “I said you would.Mark my words,I said,Lord Hodges will do the correct and courteous thing.”
“No one argued with you, Matilda,” her mother said sharply. “I suppose, young man, you have been blaming yourself for waltzing with Elizabeth. Such a shocking thing to do at a ball. I just wish someone had invented the dance when I was a girl.”
“Codaire behaved very badly, Hodges,” Mr. Radley, Elizabeth’s maternal uncle, told him. “And I do not hesitate to say so aloud in Lizzie’s hearing since she has broken off her engagement to him and doubtless agrees with me. And Molenor has been telling us what happened at White’s Club this morning. Well done.”
“Weallagree with you, Papa,” Radley’s daughter assured him. “But poor Lizzie is suffering anyway. We have been discussing what is to be done for her, Lord Hodges. She is determined to go back home to Kent, to Riddings Park. But we are united in believing that it is quite the worst thing she could do, almost like an admission that she has committed some unpardonable offense, whereas in reality she is the wronged party as anyone with any sense must see. She would do far better to remain in town and go about as usual with her head held high. It is not as though she will be forced to do it alone. We will all stand by her.Bothsides of her family.”
“Not all of us are in full agreement on the solution, Susan,” Mrs. Westcott said. “I can understand Lizzie’s desire to go home for a while. It is not because of the scandal, which of course is not her fault in the slightest, but because her heart has been bruised.”
“Come and sit here, Lord Hodges,” the Duchess of Netherby said to Colin as she got to her feet. “I shall move over with Avery. You really must not blame yourself, you know, though I am sure you have been doing just that. You are Wren’sbrother, and what could be more natural than that you should dance with Elizabeth during her betrothal ball? No one in their right mind would think you guilty of anything other than a very proper familial courtesy.”
“Come,” Wren said, slipping an arm through Colin’s to draw him toward the chair the duchess had vacated.
“No,” he said. “Thank you. I am not staying. I came to ask Lady Overfield if she would take a walk in the park with me. Will you, Elizabeth?”
“It would be most unwise. It is going to rain at any moment,” Lady Molenor said.
“And it is blowing a gale out there,” the dowager duchess added.
“You would need a closed carriage to venture into the park with any comfort today, Lord Hodges,” Mrs. Radley said. “I believe you must have come on foot? No one heard a carriage stop outside.”
“You would catch your death of cold, Elizabeth,” Lady Matilda warned her. “If you did not already do so last night, that is. You are not looking at all the thing today. Not that you can be expected to do so under the circumstances.”
“Lizzie needs a rest, Lord Hodges,” her mother said kindly, patting her shoulder. “All this attention is proving too much for her, much as she appreciates everyone’s having come to show their sympathy and support. I am going to take her upstairs—”
“It seems to me,” the Duke of Netherby said softly, and everyone fell silent to hear what he had to say, “that the question was directed at Elizabeth.”
“And Elizabeth’s family has a perfect right to answer for her when she is not up to answering for herself, Avery,” the dowager countess told him. “Yes, Althea, do go on up with her. We will excuse you both.”
“Thank you, Lord Hodges.” Elizabeth had raised her eyes to look at Colin, still without any expression on her face. “I shall go and fetch my outdoor things.”
“Elizabeth,” Lady Matilda protested, “do you really think you ought?”
“My love—” Mrs. Westcott said.
“Take an umbrella,” Alexander advised.
Thirteen
They walked the short distance to Hyde Park in silence, though Elizabeth did take Colin’s arm when he offered it. She had been very tempted to allow her family to manage her life at least for this afternoon and have herself hustled off to bed to be tucked in warm and safe. As though she were still a child. Sometimes she wished she were. But they planned to go home to Kent tomorrow or the next day, she and her mother, and if she had her way they would never leave there again. Or she would not, at least. It seemed only fair, then, to allow Colin to have a private word with her since he had been horribly and unfairly involved in what had happened last evening. He had been decent and courageous enough to come inside the house today even though it must have been obvious to him as he came along the street that he was not the only visitor. It could not have been easy.
The wind was behind them while they walked along the street. It smote them from the side as they crossed the road and turned to enter the park. It was what her father had used to describe as a lazy wind—too lazy to go around a person, it blew right through clothing and skin and bones instead until it came out the other side. It was a saying of his that had always amused her. Not today, though. It was a gray and cheerless day, a perfect match for her mood.
The park looked almost deserted when they entered it, unlike the day when they had strolled by the Serpentine and she had told him about her miscarriages and they had seen his mother’s carriage pass by. Today there was not another pedestrian in sight and most of the vehicles on the main driveway were closed carriages. Rain threatened, though it had not yet begun actually to fall. They turned off the road to walk diagonally across the grass toward a distant line of trees.
“Elizabeth,” he said, speaking to her at last, “I am so sorry—”
“No.” She cut him off. “You did nothing wrong, Colin.Nothing. I will not have you blame yourself. And if part of your concern is over the fact that I will not after all be marrying Sir Geoffrey Codaire, then it is misplaced. I am only thankful that I discovered a pertinent truth about him while I was still engaged to him, not after we married. He is not the man I thought he was. I am not at all sorry Alex knocked him down.”
“Didhe?” He turned his head sharply toward her. “I wish I could have done it, but the ballroom was not the place for it, was it? I could not bear the way he insulted and humiliated you before so many people.”
“You would have fought a duel with him,” she said. “Cousin Thomas told us about this morning. I am very glad it did not come to that. As for what happened, it is best forgotten.” Foolish words. Neither of them was likely ever to forget.
