London

 

The London Season manifested an array of diversions guaranteed to satisfy the appetites of even the most discriminating member of society. For the men, there were afternoons in the ring, engaging in pugilistic endeavors, at Gentleman Jackson’s Saloon, the early evening Promenade in the park, where most rakes hunted their next mistresses, the nightly balls, where the same rogues made their play for their intended targets, brandy taken at White’s, where the scoundrels bragged and lied of their prowess, and for the more lascivious cravings, there were the gaming halls and houses of ill repute that catered to every desire, no matter how vulgar. But their chief concern was avoiding the marriage-minded mamas of the ton.

For the society ladies, life in the city presented an altogether different experience that revolved around being seen at their best. There were afternoon teas, the same jaunts through the park, evening musicales, nightly balls and visits to Almack’s, but the mission was entirely different, which put them at odds with their male counterparts. Their primary goal was to secure a husband, either for themselves or an unattached relation.

It was that spirited competition, neither frivolous nor grave, that led Ernest to choose the Netherton’s annual celebration for Henrietta’s coming out, and although she would not be presented at court, in the official ceremony, he resolved to observe a singular custom to mark the joyous occasion. After a visit to the hothouse, he returned to Howe House, with a box containing a posy made of three pristine, white blooms.

“Good evening, brother.” Barrington lingered in the foyer, a habit that foreboded an impending lecture, of some sort. “May I have a word with you in my study?”

“What have I done now?” Drawing his watch from his pocket, he checked the time, as he strolled down the hall, in Barrington’s wake. “Can it not wait, as I need to dress for the ball, and I would not be late?”

“No, it cannot wait.” In the man’s sanctuary, Barrington folded his arms and leaned against his desk. Ernest was in trouble. “I have been meaning to speak to you about your nightly forays into Henrietta’s private chamber.” Blushing, he opened and then closed his mouth. “That did not come out as I intended it, but I knew I should have protested, when you insisted she be given a room not three doors from yours.”

“No need to explain, as I get your meaning.” In silence, Ernest cursed, because he thought he had been discreet. “What gave us away?”

“You must be joking.” Barrington snorted. “Her scream of passion in the wee hours startled me and Florence awake, only this morning, and such behavior reflects poorly on you, given you are older and wiser. But the servants will hold Hen responsible, and I will not have it, so you will cease your games until you are married.”

“I will not, and the entire matter is none of your affair.” Ah, a fresh recollection of his lady’s achingly sweet cries filled his ears, as he rode her just before dawn, and he sighed. When Barrington slammed a fist to his blotter, Ernest started and came alert. “Before you rip at me, you must understand that mine is not an act of rebellion. The simple truth is I am happy, brother. For the first time, in a long time, I am happy, and I have Henrietta to thank for that. And do not ask me to temper my actions, where she is concerned, because I cannot, as I love her.”

“Do you think me blind?” Barrington rolled his eyes. “Of course, I know you love her. Bloody hell, you practically ooze honey whenever she is near, and if you continue down that path, you will attract the attention of the entire ton, before you are prepared to answer for her. And heaven help you if rumors reach the mews and Graham discovers you have well and thoroughly compromised his daughter. If that happens, it is doubtful even I could save you.”

“Then I should talk to him, which is long overdue, because I would still have his blessing.” And it would not be easy, but Ernest had to try, for Henrietta’s sake. “But I live in the open now. No more worrying about appearances and what everyone thinks. I have spent too much of my life endeavoring to sustain society’s good opinion, yet they turned their backs on me in my darkest hour.”

“Are you sure about that?” At the side table, Barrington lifted a crystal decanter and poured two glasses of brandy, one of which he offered to Ernest. “Old habits are hard to break, and you have long defined yourself by your reputation. Can you surrender it so easily?”

“To marry the woman of my dreams?” Ernest snickered. “There is no choice, and I will not return to my bed, just to keep up appearances. Indeed, I cannot sleep without Hen in my arms, and I promised her she would never again pass a night outside my embrace.”

“Then I would caution you, one last time, to guard your habits where Henrietta is concerned.” Barrington averted his gaze. “Given I seized Florence’s prize before our nuptials, I am the last person to cast stones, but I took drastic measures to ensure no one knew of our regular rendezvous. For the love of all creation, cover her mouth with your hand, when she nears completion. Do whatever you must, but keep her quiet.”

“All right.” Of course, that was easier said than done, because he thrilled to her boisterous approbations of his skills between the sheets, but they had the rest of their lives to enjoy connubial pleasures. With that, he headed for the exit. “If you will excuse me, I should like to give the posy to Henrietta, that she might fix it to her gown, for the ball.”

“One more thing, brother.” Barrington gave Ernest pause. “It does my heart good to see you so happy, and I would hate for anything to spoil that.”

“Thank you.” Ernest peered over his shoulder and nodded an acknowledgment. “I never supposed this would come about, and I will not give her up without a fight, because without her I am dead to this world.”

Myriad thoughts battled for his attention, on the heels of his morbid declaration, as he returned to the foyer. On the hall tree hung a couple of riding crops, and he realized he had delayed a confrontation with Graham out of some misplaced sense of duty, because he desperately needed the stablemaster’s approval, though he knew not why. Underlying his trepidation was a deep-seated fear of rejection. The servant had already made his position clear, when it came to a union between Ernest and Henrietta, but he never comprehended the reason for the objection.

“May I be of service, Lord Ernest?” Crawford clasped his hands.

“Deliver this to Miss Graham, and instruct her to wear it, tonight.” Ernest gave the box with the posy into the butler’s care. “Tell her I shall await her arrival in the drawing room, at approximately seven-thirty.”

“Yes, my lord.” Crawford bowed and ascended the grand staircase, leaving Ernest alone to reflect on his situation.

He was crossing the gardens before he realized he had moved, and a single question occupied him to the detriment of all else. It was time to discover the answer behind Graham’s repudiation, and Ernest would not leave until he found satisfaction.

A couple of stable hands loitered about the mews, cleaning stalls, brushing horses, tending the tack, and polishing saddles. To the rear sat the small quarters in which the staff resided when the family journeyed to London. At the tiny portal, he knocked on the oak panel, and Graham appeared shortly thereafter.

“My lord, how may I help you?” The stablemaster lowered his chin and stared at the ground.

“Have you a moment to spare for a private conversation?” Ignoring the fast-rising panic he could not deflect, Ernest stepped inside the modest accommodation. “Please, sir.”

“Who am I to refuse you, my lord?” A hint of disdain colored Graham’s response, to which Ernest would have taken exception under different circumstances. “As always, I am at your service.”

“It is about Henrietta and our impending marriage.” Like a nervous beggar, Ernest shuffled his feet. “I would ask for your blessing, for her sake, but I would also know the source of your opposition. Why did you conspire to separate us? What have you against me, the second son of a marquess?” When the stablemaster hesitated, Ernest added, “I would have you speak freely, without fear of retribution.”

Silence weighed heavy.

“In the sennight preceding Henrietta’s departure from Garring Manor, I happened upon a shocking scene I could not begin to explain in a rational sense, and given the differences in our respective statures, I expected my daughter would bear the blame, if discovered.” The stablemaster sat at a small table and extended a hand, thus Ernest eased to the other chair. “Out of sheer desperation and a desire to protect Henrietta, I decided to apprise your father that, after hearing a strange noise one night, I ferreted the source and located you in her bed.”

Dumbfounded by the revelation, Ernest searched his faded memory and recalled the instance that brought him to seek comfort where he always found it, in Hen’s arms, and he shook his head. “Even as children, we were as one entity, though I submit, due to our age at the time, our behavior was innocent.”

“Be that as it may, I could not risk having my young daughter dragged into a shameful confrontation with Lord Ravenwood, so I made it clear you had to have encroached on our home.” Graham rubbed his chin and frowned. “It might interest you to know that His Lordship’s first reaction was to fault my girl, despite the fact that she was but a child of eight, too inexperienced and naïve to fathom the implications of her actions, and I had to defend her with every ounce of my strength, against your sire’s ridiculous accusations and violent attacks on her character. So I did what I was forced to do—I sent her away. If you must know, I never objected to you. Rather, I will not stand by idly as my daughter is battered and pummeled for the entertainment of those who consider themselves above her.”

“And I wholeheartedly support your position, as you did what any caring and supportive father would do for his child.” The irony was not lost on Ernest, given his father’s abuse. “But I would have you know what drove me to the sanctuary I found in Henrietta’s bed, as a boy. And I would impress upon you what keeps me there, as a man.”

“So the insinuations are true, and you have ruined Henrietta.” Graham clenched and unclenched his fists. “And you call yourself a gentleman.”

“Forgive me, sir, as I never intended to besmirch your good name, but your daughter and I are bound by some invisible but powerful connection, and we resumed our relationship from the moment we were reunited.” Ernest inhaled a breath and rolled his shoulders. “But I would have you know that I love her. I love her more than my own life, and she is my wife, already, in my estimation. Regardless of what happens tonight, when she makes her come out into society, whether or not the ton accepts her, I will wed her.”

“What if you beget a babe?” Graham pushed from his seat and paced. “What will you do, then?”

“It is simple.” Ernest shrugged. “Return to Garring and marry her, posthaste.”

“You are that determined?” When Ernest dipped his chin, Graham narrowed his stare. “Why?”

“For you to understand, if that is at all possible, my dedication to her, I must divulge an ugly truth, which I have kept secret for years, if only to shield my family legacy from scandal.” And that was the most brutish aspect of the torture Ernest’s father inflicted upon him. The furtive nature of the crime. “There is a sinister sort of compact to physical battery committed by a father upon his son, and chief among the savagery is the silence, although it is not even taught. Rather, it is instinctive, yet it functions as a means of control, because the injured party, too young to fully comprehend the manipulation, defends the one who inflicts the pain. He knows what is happening to him is wrong, but he covers and conceals the evidence, defending the batterer, because he views it as a means of protecting himself. Perhaps, it is the only protection available to him. But there was a small part of him, his truest and most genuine self, that he tucked away, hidden in a place his father could not touch, and he shared that tattered fragment of himself with one person, if only to remember that he was human. That he was deserving of love.”

“And that person was Henrietta.” It was a statement, not a question, and Graham swore under his breath. “I am so sorry, my lord. Had I known of the abuse, I would have said nothing. I would have tried to help you.” Then the stablemaster flinched. “The black eye, the split lip, and the bruises—Lord Ravenwood said you fell from your horse, the day Henrietta departed Derbyshire.”

“He beat me almost to death, that afternoon, and I never knew what I did to deserve the punishment, not that he required motivation.” Ernest gazed at Graham and smiled. “I should thank you, because you just solved a longstanding conundrum.”

“Which I caused, with my inadvertent and innocent admission.” Graham cradled his face in his hands. “I am so sorry, my lord.”

“It is not your fault, because you could not have known of the repercussions.” The weight of the world slipped free from Ernest’s soul, as his suffering was at long last acknowledged, and he relaxed and reclined in the chair. “To be honest, I am surprised you did not find us much sooner, because I always ventured to Henrietta’s window, such that I cannot even recall when it started, whereupon I crawled into bed with her after my regular whippings, and she consoled me. That is why I will not surrender her, for you or anyone else.”

Once again, Graham fell quiet, and he resumed his place at the table. For a few minutes, he studied Ernest, and then he cleared his throat.

“All right.” The stablemaster pinned Ernest with the intensity of his glare. “I will support you.”

~

Gowned in pale green eau de Nil silk trimmed in seed pearls, in a design of her own creation, which she made expressly to compliment the necklace Ernest purchased, with her hair arranged in a crown of curls, Henrietta stood before the long mirror and pinned the charming coming out posy to the bodice, just over her heart, and she hoped Ernest would note the significance of its position.

Nervous but resigned to launch her introduction into society; she gave herself a final inspection and marched to the door. In the hall, she daubed her temples and straightened her spine. With chin held high, she navigated the long corridor, until she came to the landing, whereupon she descended the grand staircase. Halfway down, she halted, because her father lingered in the foyer, along with Ernest.

“Henrietta, you look beautiful.” Papa gazed at her with tear-filled eyes. “How I wish your mother was here to see you in your finery, because she would be so proud, as am I.”

“Thank you, Father.” Unsure what to make of his demeanor, she advanced with caution. To Ernest, so handsome in his black formalwear, she said, “My lord, fie on you, as you outshine me.”

“That is not possible.” He winked. “And I am beginning to think I need to carry a sword, to fight off all the swains who will surely vie for your attention, because I am of a very jealous nature when it comes to you.”

“Posh. Who will notice me, with you at my side?” As a dutiful fiancée, she adjusted his cravat and smoothed the lapels of his coat. “Perhaps I should have sewn a pocket to conceal a pistol, because I shall brook no debutantes infringing on my man.”

“I adore you.” Ernest kissed her forehead. “Before we depart, I would have you speak with your father, as he has something to say that pertains to us, both.”

“But I am still angry with him.” From her perspective, her father betrayed her, in the worst possible way, and she knew not how to trust him again. “Would you have us commence our special night with an argument?”

“Please, darling.” To her chagrin, Ernest deployed his lethal pout. “Do it for me.”

“Very well.” On guard for more disapproval, when she already felt so vulnerable, she addressed her father with great reluctance. “What have you to say, Papa?”

“Only that I am so sorry for the pain I caused you and Lord Ernest, because I informed the late Lord Ravenwood that I found his youngest son in your bed, and that is why he insisted I remove you from the property, else he would do it for me.” Her father shuffled his feet and bowed his head. “I feared for your safety, given the growing attachment between you, so I tried to forestall any trouble. Had I known the reason Lord Ernest sought your company, I would have acted differently, and I regret what happened.”

“Oh, Papa, how could you have exposed us like that, when Ernest suffered at Lord Ravenwood’s hands for years?” In that moment, her heart sank, and she leaned against Ernest for support. “We were just children.”

“I know I made a grave mistake, and I can never make amends, but there is something I can do, if you let me.” Her father’s contrition wrenched her gut. “I would give my blessing to your union, because I was wrong, and I am man enough to admit it.”

“You would do that for us?” Without hesitation, she reached for her father, and he splayed his arms. As she always had, she rushed into his familiar and comforting embrace. “You champion us, because I do so need you?”

“My child, I may be old and set in my ways, but I love you.” Papa pressed his lips to her hair and patted her back. “We can talk tomorrow. Now, go and make your debut, and remember you are a Graham. We are made of sterner stuff, and if society does not like you, they can go to the devil.”

“Papa.” Heaving a sigh of relief, because she hated being at odds with her father, she kissed his coarse cheek. “Thank you. Your support means more than you will ever know.”

“I, for one, agree with your father.” Ernest draped her pelisse about her shoulders and offered his escort, which she accepted. “But I predict you will take London by storm, and we will be the most marvelous couple by the end of the Season.”

“I wish I shared your confidence.” As she crossed the threshold, she glanced at her father, and he blew her a kiss.

As a young girl, she traveled to London with her father, and she shared a room with a maid, downstairs. Often, she huddled in the shadows, admiring the former Lady Ravenwood dressed in her best gowns, bedecked in shimmering jewels, and coiffed to perfection, as she departed for the balls. Never would Henrietta have imagined walking the same path to the awaiting coach, which boasted the Ravenwood coat of arms.

Sinking in the squabs, she settled her skirts, as Ernest eased to the space beside her. Then Florence and Barrington occupied the opposite bench, the footman closed the door and secured the latch, and the graceful equipage lurched forward, carrying the stablemaster’s daughter to her first social event.

“How did everything go?” Barrington inquired, in a soft voice.

“Very well.” Ernest gave her a gentle nudge. “Graham gave us his blessing, and my fetching fiancée has reconciled with her father, so all is stupendous as we embark on our adventure.”

“Oh, Henrietta, I am so excited for you.” Florence bounced in her seat and narrowed her stare. “That ensemble is stunning. You simply must make me some gowns, as your work is superb, and I daresay every debutante in London will kill to know your designer.”

“I told her we should purchase a storefront on Bond Street and hire a small army of seamstresses to create her unique fashions.” Ernest took her hand in his and squeezed her fingers. “With her artistic talents and my financial genius, we could make a fortune.”

“Is that all you think about?” In play, she elbowed him. “Does polite society not frown on those in trade?”

“I am not sure it will matter.” Florence leaned forward and studied Hen’s attire. “Your skills are sans pareil, and every matchmaking mama will want you to create something spectacular to help their daughter stand above the rest in the marriage mart.”

“Florence is right. With the mamas, when it comes to their little angels, money is no object.” Barrington kicked Ernest. “And you always find a way to make a profit.”

“I do.” Ernest grinned, just as the coach came to a halt. “Well, my little bird, it is time to make your grand entrance upon the London stage. Are you ready?”

“As ever, I suppose.” Holding her breath, she stepped from the rig, and Ernest handed her to the sidewalk. When she noted the palatial residence, she almost tripped. “Ernest, I do not think I can go through with it.”

“Just stay by my side, and everything will be fine.” He led her into the entry hall, where a receiving line welcomed the revelers. “Believe me, you belong here, Henrietta. Never let anyone convince you otherwise.”

In a whirl of activity, she navigated the crush, until they reached the ballroom, whereupon the butler announced their arrival. From a distance, her name came to her, and her ears rang, like the bells in a Wren steeple. And into the throng she walked.

Elegantly garbed ladies and gentlemen milled about the chasmal chamber, which boasted cut glass chandeliers and ornate tapestries in a style unlike any she had ever seen, and she made her beau take a tour of the room, so she could admire the décor.

“Why does no one notice the furnishings?” she whispered. “The carpet pattern would make a gorgeous trim for a gown. Does no one recognize the impeccable splendor, or do they take it all for granted?”

“I imagine it is lost on those who were born to such privilege, my little bird.” He strolled to the terrace doors, so she could stroke the velvet drapes. “Perhaps that is what I love most about you.”

“I am so glad to hear you say it.” In awe of her surroundings, she almost forgot where she was, and she quickly came alert. “Whatever happens, thank you, for bringing me here. It is a night I shall never forget.”

As per Ernest’s advice, as he introduced her, she shared naught of her history. Instead, she remained coy and quiet, and that seemed to attract even more attention, especially when the music and dancing commenced, and she found herself beset upon by an army of hopeful partners.

“Well, it is official. You are all the rage, my dear.” The intensity of Ernest’s appraisal conveyed appreciation of a different sort, and she braced for another in a long line of salacious suggestions. If she were lucky, he would not disappoint her, because she did so enjoy his ravishment. “And I cannot wait to get you home and peel you out of that dress, but I would have you leave on the pearls when I make love to you.”

“Oh?” Cursing the telltale burn of a blush, she stuck her tongue in her cheek. “Will it enhance your performance, because I am not sure you can improve on perfection?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, my tempting vixen.” Ah, she treasured his flirtation. “And I must confess I envisioned you naked, wearing naught but the necklace, when I purchased it.”

“Scandalous, my lord.” How she ached to kiss him just then. “And I shall endeavor to fulfill your wish, tonight.”

“Brother, Florence bade me to warn you to stop undressing Henrietta with your eyes, because you attract the wrong sort of attention.” Barrington wagged a finger. “And no more dances, as you claimed two, already.”

“What if they play another waltz?” Ernest scowled, and she giggled. “I cannot abide another man holding my woman.”

“Is she your woman?” A vaguely familiar face intruded on the conversation, and then he gazed directly at her. “Hello, Henrietta. It has been a long time.”

“Percy.” She just stopped herself from leaping at Ernest’s cousin. “Is it really you?”

“Indeed, it is, old friend.” As would a gentleman, he took her hand in his and pressed a chaste kiss to her gloved knuckles. “I could not believe it, when I got Barrington’s note, but I was glad to receive it. And here you are, in the flesh, no less. My, what a picture you present, such that I almost did not recognize you.” To Ernest, Percy said, “May I have this dance with your lady?”

“You may.” Ernest folded his arms. “But bring her back to me, afterward.”

“You have my solemn promise, cousin.” Percy crossed his heart and then led her into the rotation. “It is wonderful to see you, again, Hen. We have missed your spirited nature, which is something our family needs, right now.”

“And what about you? I was disappointed when I did not find you at Garring, when I arrived.” She marveled at his patrician features, his customary Howe blonde locks, and his brilliant blue eyes tinged with a hint of sadness. “Ernest told me of your mother. I am so very sorry.”

“Yes, it was a horrid disgrace, and I am still shunned by some, thus I often stay home and avoid unwanted attention.” Given Percy’s amiable personality, she could not understand how anyone could snub him, which she likened to kicking a pup. “But I will persevere, just as you did. By the by, Ernest explained the situation, in detail, and I stand at the ready, to do whatever I can to help you to the altar.”

“As usual, you are very kind.” In his company, she found an ally, because they were both outcasts, of a sort. “And I pledge to do the same for you, dear friend.”

“Do you believe someone could love me, the way you love Ernest?” Of course, he would know of her devotion, because they were playmates, as children. “Because I would have a family of my own, someday.”

“If it can happen for me, it can happen for anyone.” When the music ended, she sought Ernest, and he waved, as if she could miss him. “Is there any particular lady who has caught your notice?”

“There is, and perhaps you can catch her for me, as I suspect she is similarly tortured.” He chuckled. “But for now I see your impatient swain, as he paces, thus I had better return you to him, before he runs amok.”

Back on Ernest’s arm, Henrietta savored the tasty delights at dinner, making conversation as though she belonged in such estimable company. Later, she hid behind an ornamental screen, as her man fed her delicious bites of a sumptuous lemon tart, interspersed with even more delectable kisses.

All too soon, the long case clock chimed the midnight hour, and once again she found herself safely ensconced in the Ravenwood coach, bound for Howe House and the bed she shared with Ernest. Leaning against him, she yawned.

“My darling, you were a smashing success.” He twined his fingers in hers. “I believe we may have worried for nothing, and your first London Season will be a triumph.”