‘It did not,’ he replied. ‘Though Dorian pretended for six months that it had. He said it had been a quiet affair with only her family as he assumed Father and I would not want to attend. During this time, he wrote to Father several times, saying he needed more money. It was always for Rose, to pay for her dresses or accessories or some such excuse. My father dutifully paid him, but I doubt she ever saw a penny of it.’
‘And what of Rose now?’ asked Jane. ‘Where is she?’
Mr Hart’s hand shook, and his teacup rattled in its saucer. He placed it carefully on the side table and composed himself.
‘In Scotland with relatives, I believe. She fled from her lodgings with my brother one night after an argument, whereupon he admitted he was never going to marry her—in fact, that he did not even love her. However, by that time, it was too late. She was already ... corrupted.’ Mr Hart’s mouth pinched shut, and he shuddered.
‘Gracious,’ Jane whispered.
Indeed, we all knew what that meant. Rose was lost, and her chances of making a good match were practically nil, thanks to Dorian Hart. I was not surprised. After his attempted raspberry-and-cream seduction with me, I could believe him capable of anything.
‘Can you not rescue Rose from her fate?’ Lucinda spoke softly, but her voice was clear and firm. She had lowered her book and was gazing at Mr Hart unflinchingly.
He inclined his head, acknowledging her. ‘I tried, Miss Fitzroy. Believe me, I did. Immediately after I heard their engagement was broken off, I wrote enquiring after her health and intimated that I still cared for her. But she replied with a curt, dismissive letter, telling me never to write to her again as she despised anyone by the name of Hart. Any letter I sent after that was returned unopened. I feared that visiting her would only reopen the wound he had caused since she has tarred me with the same brush.’
Lucinda nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer.
‘We were initially told by Mr Smith-Withers that your brother was recovering from a broken heart, that he had been cruelly separated last year from a girl he loved, Cecilia Spencer. But I assume that was also a lie?’ she asked.
I hadn’t told Lucinda the truth about Dory and Ceci as I had not wanted to burden her further, but it looked like she had figured it out for herself.
‘Correct, Miss Fitzroy.’
‘Does your brother even stay in Royal Crescent when in Bath?’ she asked.
‘No, I believe he stays in cheap lodgings with Mr Smith-Withers in Monmouth Street.’
My ears pricked up at that. I had seen him walking along that very street the morning we had gone to the baths! It appeared I was right to wonder about it.
‘His fine clothes are not his own nor his shiny carriage. He gives the impression of being a fine gentleman. But in fact, he is destitute and borrows everything from Mr Smith-Withers, who, by the way, is not our family lawyer. Insufferable man.Heis only hanging around because, as you ladies have cleverly deduced, my brother’s new plan—since my father refuses to give him any more money—is to marry a young woman with a large dowry and continue doing as he pleases. And he has promised Mr Smith-Withers a cut of it. But if I were him, I would get that in writing.’
Lucinda chuckled at his wry humour. Mr Hart smiled at her, causing a faint blush to appear, and she quickly lowered her eyes. Jane and I glanced at each other in surprise. Indeed, Lucinda was sitting up straighter; and her book was lying in her lap, forgotten.
Wonders will never cease, I thought, watching Mr Hart haltingly enquire about Lucinda’s family and her shy reply.Perhaps Mr Hart’s brother was the suitable gentleman that Lucinda was meant to attract all along?If so, it had taken a very roundabout way of getting there. And it was a pity if they were to marry as she would have a scoundrel for a brother-in-law.
Chapter 23
At the conclusion of Mr Hart’s visit, he asked if he might write to Lucinda when she returned to York. She agreed, and I gave my approval too. There was no need to have the same reaction as Rose and despise anyone with the Hart name—that would be cruel. Besides, we had all liked his honesty and openness when speaking of his broken heart. His pain had been clear for everyone to see. He would have to have been an excellent actor to fake that.
It was also clear that Mr Hart was a far superior man to his brother as he had taken a profession so that he was not a burden to his father. We had all been impressed that he had chosen to lower his social standing rather than project a false image like his brother.
Of course, we had not a jot of proof that he was any better than him. But I, having spent a month in the company of a dastardly rake, now considered myself an excellent judge of character in that regard.
Plus his visit had aided in Lucinda’s recovery, so for that, I was grateful. And if he did write to her, Seraphina would be pleased that her daughter’s trip to Bath had not beencompletely in vain and that she might have a son-in-law in the near future (though she would probably rail against him being an accountant).
Indeed, Lucinda could tell her mother all about him as Seraphina was coming to collect her at Steventon in the family carriage.
And it was here that I parted ways with my niece the next day. I hugged her tightly, trying not to cry, and was reluctant to let her out of my sight. But I had to. Seraphina was impatient to get on the road and reach their inn before nightfall.
‘Goodbye, Aunty Fliss,’ Lucinda murmured. ‘It has been a most interesting and ... educational trip. I think I will be busy for quite some time updating my journal when I get home.’
Her mouth quirked, and I smiled at her, relieved that she had regained her sense of humour despite everything that had occurred.
‘Write to me when I am back in Derbyshire in a couple of weeks,’ I urged, and she promised me she would.
Jane and I stood arm in arm, waving to the carriage, until it rounded the bend in the road and was lost to sight.
‘Well’, I said, wiping my eyes with my handkerchief, ‘I don’t know about you, but I could murder a strong cup of tea and some cake. Will you come with me to Ashbury tosee Harriet and Evie? Or are your parents expecting you?’
