So she just had to enjoy the life she was living. It was for the best.
CHAPTER 1
Five Years Later
There were five people at the funeral of Lady Claudia. Five. Marianne knew the exact number because as she stood on the edge of the grave, umbrella dripping fat, cold raindrops onto the shoulder of her stiff, itchy mourning gown, she continually counted them. As if somehow more people would materialize. As if somehowsomeonewould show up late and rush to reveal that they had cared for Marianne’s best friend as much as she had.
But the number remained constant. Five.
Six if one were to count Marianne’s great-aunt Beulah. Which she did not since her aunt had only come to chaperone Marianne and had gone back to wait in the carriage the moment the skies had opened up with their own version of mourning for Claudia.
So five the funeral party remained.
Marianne blinked back tears. It was all so unfair. Claudia had taken ill just a few scant weeks ago. And now she was gone and of thefivepeople in attendance at her final farewell, Marianne was the only one who did not look distracted, bored or anxious to depart. Even Claudia’s elder brother, the Marquess of Broadsmoore, seemed preoccupied. The moment the preacher ceased his droning words about ashes to ashes and the Lord’s will, the marquess turned away and began to thank the few people who had bothered to show up to the service.
Marianne stayed just where she was, staring down into the cold, dark hole where her friend’s coffin had been lowered. Soon it would be covered in dirt and then…well, then there would be no pretending that Claudia was not dead. That somehow this was a terrible dream.
“Lady Marianne?”
Marianne blinked, startled by the sound of the marquess’s voice and the gentle touch of his gloved hand on her elbow. She turned toward him with the faintest hint of a smile. It was all she could manage at present.
“I’m so—I’m so sorry for your loss,” she managed to choke out.
Claudia’s brother was an older man and as he nodded the lines on his face deepened with emotion. At least he offered his sister that. “Thank you, Lady Marianne. And I am sorry for yours. I know you and my sister were as close as two people could be without sharing blood.”
Marianne sucked in a breath in order to keep her tears inside. She wasn’t about to shed them here in front of people who could clearly not care less about the loss of her best friend. Well, some didn’t care. All but the marquess had already begun to roam back to their carriages to escape the rain. They couldn’t even grant Claudia the respect of getting wet.
“She was my dearest friend,” Marianne managed to respond with great difficulty.
The marquess nodded slowly. “I know she would have said the same of you. Don’t think I don’t appreciate how wonderful and true a friend you were in these last years of her far-too-short life. Claudia obviously felt the same, for she has left you a small token of her affection.”
Marianne blinked up at the older man. This was utterly unexpected. “A token?”
“Yes.” The marquess smiled softly. “It is a jewelry box she kept on her dressing table. I believe our late aunt gave it to her upon her sixteenth birthday. Claudia left special instructions that it was to be bequeathed to you.”
Marianne lifted her hand to cover her lips as her thoughts turned to Claudia’s room. How often she had admired that exact box as they readied themselves for parties or giggled together like the silly girls they certainly no longer were. All those memories were so dear to her now.
“I know the piece you are referring to. It was a favorite of mine,” she whispered.
“Then it is good it will go to you. I shall have it sent over to your home this very afternoon. Will that be agreeable to you?”
Marianne nodded. “Of course, thank you.”
“Well, thank you again for being a true friend to my sister.” The other man glanced up at the departing mourners, none of whom could seem to get to their carriages fast enough. “She had few close companions. May I escort you back to your vehicle?”
Marianne glanced back. Her aunt had probably fallen asleep by now, slumped over against the door as she was wont to do whenever she got into a carriage for more than five minutes. “No, thank you, my lord. I believe I shall stay here a few moments longer and say a last private goodbye.”
The marquess looked at her for a long moment and in his eyes Marianne thought she saw a flash of guilt. And why not? She knew Claudia had never been any closer to him than to anyone else in her life. Let him feel the twinge of regret that he had not treated her with more kindness or love. “Very well. Goodbye, Lady Marianne.”
“Goodbye, my lord,” she said to his retreating back, and then turned back toward the open grave to whisper a few last words to her fallen friend.
Sebastian, Earl of Ramsbury, took a long swig of whisky from the glass his best friend had provided and grinned. “Excellent.”
The Earl of Delacourt turned toward him with a half-smile. “Yes, it’s a fine bottle, that is for certain. Worth every pound.”
“A good thing, too, since I’m sure it set you back more than a few.” Sebastian set the glass aside. “After supper, what do you say we go find a few more drinks and perhaps some feminine company? We could go to the Donville Masquerade or another hell.”
Delacourt sighed. “I would dearly love to do so, but I don’t think that will be possible tonight. It’s Thursday—my sister will be joining us for supper.”
