Page 8 of A Gifted Earl

Chapter Three

Early September 1817

“What do you think, Mother? Will the gossips speak badly of me for moving to half mourning? Personally, I am glad to move on from wearing unrelieved black.”

“They can say what they like – I doubt that it will be any more than the muttering that already exists. And, after all, he was your uncle, not your father – I think that three months of full mourning is quite enough. You need to be out and about in society, to be seen, to be becoming known, to be making alliances. A few months in London at this time of year will achieve much of that, and be much easier than waiting until Spring, and the full whirl of the Season.”

He gave a soft laugh, and shook his head.

“I don’t think that any part of this will be easy – any more than the last three months have been! But I have no choice, do I? I never expected to come into the title – Father dying young was distressing, but changed nothing, as far as my position in the world. I could not, however, have predicted that my uncle, his wife, and all three of his children would be taken off by the cholera, within days of each other.”

“You are doing admirably, never fear. I’m proud of you, and I’m sure that society will come to respect you. You don’t lack for courage, and you’re far more sensible than most of them are. So long as you go about things cautiously, all will be well. But you will need to think about marrying, to ensure that there is an heir – and that means that you will be very popular… with the matchmaking mothers.”

He groaned.

“That, I do not look forward to at all. I am not against marriage, of a certainty, but I will marry when I am ready, to a woman of my choice, a woman I can care for, and respect as a person. I have no interest in a marriage where affection is not part of it. I am glad that you raised me with an understanding of how society goes about things, even if we never expected me to need to move in those circles, but that just confirms to me that I do not wish to become like them, even if I am now technically of that status.”

“You will do as you wish, and I know that you will also do your best for the Earldom – you have already repaired some of your uncle’s unwise practices, and the estates are thriving. For the next two weeks, before we go to London, I will do my best to give you as much information as possible about who has influence, and who to be wary of. There are advantages to the fact that I am a Duke’s daughter, and those who mocked me for marrying a second son – ‘beneath me’ they said – will likely see things differently, now that you are Earl of Templewick.”

“Thank you, Mother. You cannot know how grateful I am for your help.”

*****

Venetia stared out of the carriage window as they passed through the streets of London. She kept the hood of her cloak pulled up around her face, for warmth, and to hide the scar, but she could not resist watching the city pass by.

And, truthfully, she watched because doing so gave her something else to think about, beyond the coming weeks of going about in society, with her scarred face on view for all to see.

“We are nearly there, Venetia. Do sit back and prepare yourself. We have to make sure that we make a positive impression. At least your uncle has been generous enough to allow us to stay in Hardenwell House. I know that it is galling to have to stay as a guest in the house which was once ours, but it, like so much else, went to your uncle when your father died. And, as we are dependent on your uncle’s charity in this matter, we must be nice to him, and to your cousin, even if you find the whole family less than appealing to be with.”

Venetia sighed.

“Yes, Mother. I know – I will do my best. I haven’t seen Cousin Jasper since we were both small children, so I’ve no idea what I will think of him – or he of me. Perhaps he is not too much like his father?”

“We can hope….”

They lapsed into silence, and a short while later, the carriage drew up outside Hardenwell House. A rush of childhood memories momentarily swamped Venetia, and she gave a little ragged gasp, sternly telling herself that this was no time to be maudlin. Her mother reached across and took her hand for a moment, before releasing her as a footman opened the door.

She stepped out, a small frown creasing her brow – she had never seen this footman before – had her uncle employed new staff? Or extra staff? When the house had transferred to him after her father’s death, all of the staff had, as far as she knew, stayed on. Perhaps… some of them had left? That thought sent a small shiver down her spine, for the only thing she could think of which might have made those staff leave was if the new master of the house did not treat them well. She would see – perhaps there had just been extra staff added – but still, it seemed a bad omen.

At the door of the house, Ames, the butler, greeted them with a small smile. Venetia’s concern eased a little – at least Ames was still here.

His eyes skimmed across her face, and she saw the moment when he noticed the scar, saw the tiny flinch, the widening of his eyes. This was how it was going to be, every time someone saw her for the first time – an eternity of people flinching from the sight of her. She sighed softly.

“Welcome, Lady Hardenwell, Lady Venetia. Your rooms have been prepared.”

A small frown slipped across his face for a moment, rapidly banished, and replaced with his normal impassive ‘professional’ face. Beside her, Lady Hardenwell stiffened – it seemed that she had noticed that momentary frown too.

“Ames… which rooms have we been given?”

Her mother’s voice was steady, but somehow, brittle… Ames swallowed, and Venetia was certain that he was uncomfortable.

“The green and the blue guest suites, my Lady.”

Venetia bit her lip to prevent a shocked gasp escaping her. Those were the smallest of the guest suites, the ones which had not been refurbished for some years, and neither had a private sitting room attached. At least they each had a dressing room.

“I see. And where is our maid to be housed?”

“In… in the attic rooms, my Lady.”