Marianne, for her part, had taken on her role as Mrs. Grenville with enjoyment, acting the benevolent matron with thorough enthusiasm. Her new demeanor unnerved me, but I knew that beneath it lay fear she’d embarrass Grenville. She cared about him enough, I could see, to try to charm all in his circle.
Grenville and Marianne moved among the guests with great dignity, as though they were royalty greeting the masses. Marianne had dressed in an elegant silver and blue gown, but the décolletage was modest, as was the skirt. Her days of wearing the thinnest muslin clinging to her every curve were at an end.
Behind Grenville came a bishop I recognized from the supper last night—Craddock, I believed was his name—a surly but robust man who’d expressed displeasure at the many Dissenters Brighton attracted. A man who would have been happier at a large church in the middle of London.
After him, unnoticed by all but the host and hostess, were a couple who had also been at supper.
Viscount … Armitage … the name came to me. And his lady wife. When I gazed at them, something tickled the back of my mind, a tickle that grew to thunder and began to bang hard inside my head.
Chapter 5
My weak knee suddenly faltered. I barely caught myself on my walking stick, my leg twisting and sending fire up my limb.
“Are you all right, my boy?” Lady Aline asked in concern.
I scarcely heard her through the buzz in my ears. My daughter’s eyes, a brilliant blue, came through the fog, and I anchored myself with the sight of them.
“My slippers pinch so,” Gabriella said, hand on my arm. “Will you sit with me until the lecture begins?”
Bless her. She knew I was infirm but couched her words to imply I’d do her a favor if I got off my feet. I acquiesced and allowed her to tow me to a line of gilded blue damask chairs that had been placed against the wall.
As soon as I sat down and drew a breath, my dizziness passed. Unfortunately, so did the tantalizing hint of memory.
“What can you tell me about Lord Armitage?” I asked Lady Aline, nodding at the man and his wife. “I met them last night at the Pavilion but know little about them.”
Armitage was not very tall, but he had a commanding presence, his hair crisp black, his face square and sharp, glittering eyes taking in the room. His wife was a beauty, though not a conventional one. Nothing fair and frail about her. She was the same height as her husband, with dark hair that gleamed in the lamplight. The gold net of her gown caught the same light, as did the diamonds in her hair. They made a striking pair.
Lady Aline Carrington, daughter of an earl and proud to be a spinster, knew everything about everyone in Britain. Gossip she did not know was not worth learning.
“I forgive your ignorance because you lived so long away from home,” Lady Aline said. “It was quite a scandal in its day, but people have forgotten, as you can see.”
She gestured with her lorgnette at the throng around Grenville and Marianne, everyone exquisitely polite, of course, but avidly curious about her. Lord and Lady Armitage were greeted courteously but all attention tonight was on Grenville and his new wife.
“Lady Armitage was Miss Elizabeth Randolph, niece of an ambassador from the American states to Austria fifteen years ago,” Lady Aline began. “Quite stunning she was, and she is still very comely. Lord Armitage was in Vienna, also an ambassador, during the wars with Bonaparte, and there he met Miss Randolph. So did a number of gentlemen, including Armitage’s brother, who lived with him there. The Austrian Emperor’s nephew was also much interested in Miss Randolph. There were duels and so forth. She flitted through it all quite happily, enjoying the attention.”
My daughter listened with interest, but I did not send her away or tell Lady Aline to eliminate the sordid details. I preferred Gabriella to hear the truth about people instead of remaining in ignorance.
“But Miss Randolph married Lord Armitage,” I observed as Armitage and his lady drifted arm-in-arm through the crowd. “They seem to get on well. I assume she fell in love with him and forsook all others?”
“She fell in love with hisbrother,” Lady Aline said with enjoyment. “Hewas good for nothing. A decent soldier, I hear, but a roué of the worst sort. Had half a dozen ladies on his string, both respectable women and those of the demimonde. He seduced Miss Randolph, it was rumored, and ruined her utterly. Her uncle tried to hush it up, of course, but everyoneknew, and no announcement of an engagement was forthcoming. Lord Armitage, mortified, and possessing a few more morals than his brother, tried to insist the brother marry her. They came to blows over it.” Lady Aline flapped her peacock-feather fan as though warm from the exciting tale.
“Good heavens,” Gabriella said. “Did Lord Armitage marry Miss Randolph to save her reputation? That was noble of him.”
“If he had done, it would have been a satisfying end to the tale,” Lady Aline continued. “But life is not so tidy, Gabriella, dear. Miss Randolph decided that being ruined was a fine thing, as she no longer had to play the insipid miss—or so she said. She began a grand flirtation with the Austrian Emperor’s nephew. He had no intention of marrying her, of course, and she was well on the way to becoming a courtesan.”
“Then how did she come to marry Lord Armitage?” Gabriella asked.
Lady Aline leaned closer. “I am sad to relate that Miss Randolph discovered she was increasing. Disaster. Lord Armitage pressed harder on his brother to do the honorable thing, and his brother actually wavered, declaring he really did love the lady. He might have proposed, but then both men joined the Austrians at Austerlitz, to observe that battle. Unfortunately, the French bullets did not care that the two men had only come to watch, and Lord Armitage’s brother was killed.” Lady Aline lifted her fan to shield her face as she spoke the next words. “Some are uncharitable enough to say that Armitage himself killed his brother, to leave the way free to Miss Randolph. I don’tquitebelieve that—he could have simply married her while his brother played the rogue. But apparently, Miss Randolph and Armitage’s brother had been very much in love. They’d patched things up between themselves before he went to Austerlitz, and he looked forward to becoming a father.”
“Poor Lady Armitage,” Gabriella said softly.
Lady Aline gave her a fond look. “You are a kindhearted gel, my dear. Yes, Miss Randolph was quite grieved at his death. When Lord Armitage insisted Miss Randolph marry him to save her from utter ruin, she had little choice but to accept. She’d never been officially engaged to his brother, no settlements, so there was no impediment to her marrying Armitage. When her child was born—a girl, thank heavens—Armitage declared the child his. We all know better, of course, but no one challenges the statement. All was well, it turned out—Lord and Lady Armitage discovered after this hasty marriage that they rather liked each other. Armitage is wealthy and powerful in his circle, able to give Lady Armitage a luxurious life. He went to the Peninsula for a time, but since he’s been home, the two have been inseparable.”
“So it was a happy ending,” Gabriella said, eyes shining.
“Eventually,” Lady Aline conceded.
Our gazes went to the couple across the room, Lady Armitage in the act of disengaging from her husband to speak to several ladies. She had no stiffness in her, and the other women responded to her with ease—they clearly did not shun her. I wondered whether she’d had difficulty at first, an outsider with a scandalous history, being accepted into her husband’s circle.
