Lord Romney's Exquisite Widow (10 page)

George and Compton both laughed.

"Ho! No dashing my hopes with your mockery."

"I can see you now, chasing little bits of bunny, kitten, and puppy fluff all over your house," George replied. "What would Eugene say? And Mrs. Potters would faint dead away at all the mess they would leave behind."

"My butler would no doubt have my guts for garters, and his wife would feed me to the Tower lions." Atten gave a handsome grin. "However, if it meant a chance to win the love of my life, I guess I could spare them."

"Ha!" Compton knocked the cue out of Atten's hand. "You could no longer spare them than you could go without your horses. Nay, what you need is a lady who is as horse mad as you. Then you may find the real lady of your dreams. Until then, you are simply playing nursemaid to Hamson's sad attempt until he comes around and learns to act the gentleman again."

They laughed as George jumped up. "What nonsense is this? I made a blunder, yes, and it pains me to admit it, but Atten, you were devilishly right in my conduct. However, I do not need a nursemaid. Things have not been that horridly askew, have they?"

Compton shook his head. "Sit, man. You still have a lot to learn about women. All us blighters do—but thankfully, ladies tend to take that in stride and give us a few days to sort ourselves out."

"Aye, ’tis true." Atten sat on the other side of him.  "She is still keen on you—at least, she pretends to want to hear more and more about you. Thankfully, you left some very lasting memories, and her heart still holds a candle flame for you. However, we must begin phase two, or she will be living in Bath in a fortnight."

"Bath! What does that mean to me? I will simply follow her there and began my suit anew." George rubbed his face and leaned over. "Truth is, I love her. I always have. And I will be hanged if I allow society or my mother's perceptions to dictate what my heart feels. I do not need a phase two to capture her heart because from here on out, I plan on being precisely what she wants. The man she has so desperately needed all this time.”

"Bravo!" Compton clapped him on the back. "Spoken like a real gentleman."

"Besides . . ." Hamson grinned ruefully. "I am merely the fifth son. It is not as if my fortune could be cut off anyhow. What little I own is all mine, fair and square."

Atten leered and nudged him with his elbow. "And I hear the lady has quite a bit in her pockets too!"

George pushed him away. "I would have taken her as the penniless sweetheart she was four years ago. Do not be crass enough to believe her fortune means anything to me now."

Compton let out a guffaw.  "You say that now until you realize how much you will be spending on fetching more and more kittens each time you make a blunder!"

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:

As another round of billiards began, George stepped out of the room and walked toward the large receiving area, where the future Lady Atten would most likely host lavish balls. He then cut across the fine marble floor and out onto the balcony to the fresh air awaiting.

As he took a deep breath, he contemplated what he was running from, the same situation that continued to plague his mind all night and then day again. With some force, he hit the balustrade with the palm of his hand and attempted to sort through the horrific past of his darling Miss Poleton. His heart lurched in heaviness and agony for her. Out of all the things he may have wished upon the miss when she spurned him, it was not to have her completely untouched and confused as she was.

When he thought back to their larks and playfulness and the effervescent joy she exuded, he could strangle the fool who wed her. She was a mere shadow of herself, believing every scornful lie she was fed. How was she to know differently? Did George do a thing to rescue her, as he ought to have done? Did he fight valiantly for her?

Great Hades, he would have sold off everything he owned to give her father the money he needed to marry the girl himself, but he was clearly not worthy of her then. No, the young pup sat and wined and mourned his loss—never fully thinking of what atrocities she would face. George had been angry, to be sure, but not man enough to offer for her instead.

It made him physically ill to imagine the dear frightened girl retreating more and more into herself to become what an old man wished—to be seen and not heard. Her quick mind and wit would have been stanched the first moment she endeavored to say something to him, believing no man would ever want her.

And then to be turned away. To be offered no affection at all. His perfect Catherine had never been kissed. The shame. The horrid belief of self she had to endure. Why? Because he was too craven to care enough to save her. He did not deserve such a creature. And he certainly did not deserve the attention she showed him four years ago, either.

But what was he to do now? She had mentioned that she would prefer to hide herself away from everyone. And for what? So she could prove to herself that her senseless husband was correct all along? Or even worse, was she making an effort to protect people from the monster she believed she was?

And there it was. The truth of the matter. She had begun to think so lowly of herself, she felt it best to leave society behind so no one else would see her inadequacies. What a cruel, harsh, lonely existence. How could one make her see the truth?

His shortcomings were no match for a woman who needed to believe she was beautiful and desirable once more. Yet, now that he identified the truth, he was inclined to help her all he could.

He took a deep breath. Before he commenced, there were a few calls he was obligated to make. It would not be easy, but therein lay the reality of what true maturity actually embodied. It was time he halted this inane need to hide behind his mama’s skirts and acted the man of twenty-five he was. Hard truths were destined to be faced, not disregarded.

Which is how he found himself not some three quarters of an hour later sitting across from Miss Hemming and her mama in their blue drawing room, fidgeting immensely under the latter's glower.

"Could I perhaps take Miss Hemming around Hyde Park this afternoon?" he inquired.

The young lady looked hopefully at her mama, who nodded her approval. "Yes, though she must take one of her younger sisters with her."

"Mama!" Miss Hemming cried. "Can it not be one of the footmen? Or allow Jeb to ride his horse alongside us?"

Lady Hemming shook her head and stared right at George. "Your brother has many other things to attend to today than to listen to whatever sad tale Lord Hamson has decided you must hear."

George blanched and cleared his throat. Lady Hemming must be a mind reader.

The older woman straightened her skirts. "Or, if you are not inclined to take one of your sisters, you are more than welcome to remain here and allow Lord Hamson to speak now."

"Mama! I have never known you to be like this before. Truly, I shall die of embarrassment."

Her mother gave her a cool glare. "Then I hope you die quickly to spare us all unnecessary farce."

George choked back a chuckle just as Miss Hemming opened her mouth to dispute once more. He leaned over and touched her arm. "Your mother is correct. I have come here to ask forgiveness of you, and it would never do to speak of such things as we rode about Hyde Park, where everyone could witness our conversation."

"George?" Miss Hemming queried as her mama gave a haughty smile and leaned back in her seat.

"I refuse to make this easy for you, young man," she said. “I suggest you make your speech succinct and to the point.”

"I see." He tugged at his collar and then took a deep breath. "Miss Hemming, I have come here to face you directly and let you know that I have enjoyed our time together. However, I have turned my attentions to an attachment I once had, and I find I cannot help myself but hope to restore some of those old feelings."

Miss Hemming looked at him curiously. "Whatever do you mean?"

This was going to be much harder than he anticipated if the chit was going to pretend she had no notion what he was speaking of. "These last few weeks, I have been playing court to you, but I shall now disengage myself and allow other men their chance with you."

CHAPTER NINETEEN:

Miss Hemming's eyes grew distressed and watery.

"Forgive me," George said. "I am sorry, yet I feel it would be much more difficult had I walked away and not shared my intentions with you. I did not plan for my heart to betray me as it has."

"This is a grave hindrance," Lady Hemming said, one hand folding itself on top of the other. "Very grave indeed. Yet, if this is to be the case, we will be the ones who reveal the particulars to the public. It shall be on our reports as to why Mary has preferred to leave you, and not one word of the contrary shall make its presence known to the
Ton
."

George nodded. "I find that perfectly fair. Paint me as the blackest villain you must, for it is true, I am indeed a sore shambles of a man."

"Lord Hemming will not be contented either. Our dearest daughter has been our highest concern since presenting her to court earlier this year."

Were they implying that he compromised the girl? "I have been all that is gentlemanly in her presence."

"Of course you have, or this would be a wholly different conversation altogether. Nay, our concern is, of course, the rumors that will follow her."

His mother had tried to warn him of this. One could not simply pay court to a young lady and then not come up to scratch. It was just not done. The only thing to make this situation worse would be to have already promised for the girl's hand. Thankfully, he had not done so.

"You really do love her, do you not?" Miss Hemming said, her watery eyes suddenly clear. In their place was an odd look of bewilderment.

"I find I do, yes. And it would be a great disgrace to you had I asked for your hand with these feelings still in place."

"It is a disgrace to leave me as well," she pointed out, but did not harp upon it. "I am all astonishment to think that you would truly toss everything aside for a widow."

Lady Hemming sucked in a large gulp of air. "You are not serious, Mary. He is leaving you to court a
widowed
woman?"  She was not crass enough to say the word “soiled,” but the implication was clear.

George's jaw twitched ever so slightly, and he had to remind himself that he was the one at fault here. They were only repeating the inane beliefs of society.

Lady Hemming refused to meet his gaze, and instead continued to speak directly to her daughter. "It is enough that he would move on with an old friend, but to continue pursuit of a woman who had already slighted him and then buried her husband? ’Tis outrageous!”

There was no need to tarry longer. To imagine the insults was one thing, but to hear them was quite another. "Excuse me, Lady Hemming, Miss Hemming. I thank you for allowing me to call upon you. I fear I nearly forgot an engagement with my mother, and so must be leaving." He stood up.

"I have no doubt your mama is not proud of you right now!" Lady Hemming huffed.

"No, she is not, though I do not answer to my mother.” He bowed swiftly. “I beg your pardon. Thank you again." Then he turned upon his heel and walked through the doorway toward the vestibule. Perhaps it was a very good thing that he cut his losses now. Perhaps a lifetime attached to the Hemming family would not have been as pleasant as he had assumed.

And though he did have an engagement with his mother, it was not until later that evening, when he had offered to help host her annual ball. She was always a perfectionist when it came to her balls—they turned her into a complete general and left her with little time to do anything but prepare the home for guests.

As George was about to head home, he had another thought. He decided to change his mind and brave visiting his mama in the midst of preparations instead. He knew she would not be pleased to see him, as she would be exceptionally busy, but he wanted to guarantee that Lady Romney and the new earl and countess received invitations as well. Even if it was last minute, he could not have her slighted by his family.

He passed by his home and headed to Grosvenor Square. Within a trice, he was walking into the house and searching for her. After attempting to discover her whereabouts from more than one servant, he finally located the mad lady up upon a ladder in the ballroom, no less.

"Mother, get down from there before you fall!" His voice echoed through the large chamber full of servants, who all halted and turned toward him.

"Great heavens, child! You nearly frightened me right off this perch. Now come and speak to me like a gentleman ought, and stop that ridiculous shouting."

George put his hands on his hips as he approached. "Whatever are you doing up there?" Indeed, his mother did not know how to stay out of the thick of things. Even he could not fathom standing on a tall ladder in the middle of the room. “Indeed, it looks dreadfully unsafe up there. You must come down.”

"Someone has to stand here and see that all gets put to rights, George. It is much easier to direct everyone when I can see what they are all about."

"Of course it is, Mama, though I do fear for your safety.  And in a gown no less."

She sighed and turned toward him. "And so does half the staff, but no one is going to persuade me off this ladder until the ballroom is ready. So either hush your mouth or help the servants if you are troubled over my safety."

"I would if I were not terrified that you would become more exasperated than you already are as soon as I blunder something up."

She laughed. "No doubt you know me well. Now, whatever do you want? ’Tis not like you to show up in the midst of hosting preparation chaos."

"I have come to ask a favor of you."

She glanced over at the chandelier and then called. "Thomas, I wanted the floral wreath around the top of the chandelier, not the bottom. You did not need to come, George. I have already done it."