The Suitable Bride (The Emberton Brothers Series Book 2) (8 page)

“Mother!” Edward shouted, springing from his chair. “How dare you!”

“How dare I?” she shrieked. “I very well dare, Edward. I know more of that woman’s reputation than you do.”

Richard rose and placed himself between them. Despite there being a settee and table between the two, he stood with his arms outstretched as though preventing a physical confrontation. “I think we should all calm down. Raising our voices will not solve anything.” He turned to Edward. “Sit down.” He glared, willing his brother to do as he bid.

Heavily, Edward sat back down on the chair. Inside, he was raging. His mother was insinuating something against his bride-to-be, and it cut him to the quick.

Richard then turned his attention to their mother. “Mama,” he said gently, “please return to your seat. Let’s talk about this with composure.”

His words had an immediate effect, and Edwina, balling her hands into fists at her sides, resumed her place.

“Now,” Richard placed himself as mediator, “Edward, there are clearly some objections to the lady.”

The very insinuation made Edward’s blood boil.

“Are you amenable to hearing what our mother has to say?” Richard stared at him, and Edward did his best to rein in his tongue.

He wanted to lash out again at the insult to his beloved Frances, but instead fell back on his professional training and chose diplomacy. “Yes, I will.” Edward could not bear to look at his mother; instead he chose to look at the mahogany top of the table before him.

It was some moments before Edwina could regain her composure sufficiently enough to speak her mind. “We will not speak of the insult to my person, Edward. That is a discussion for another time. I will contain my comments to the subject of your intended.” She breathed in heavily through her nose, evidently having difficulty steadying her emotions.

Edward clenched his jaw but nodded his consent.

“I admit,” she continued, “that I do not venture out into society as frequently as some would like. Nevertheless, when I do visit with the ladies of my acquaintance, they talk.” She considered Edward, her eyes conveying all that she felt. “The ladies of the
ton
like to talk. No,” she corrected herself. “They like to gossip, Edward. They gossip a lot. They gossip about everything and everyone. Your Miss Davenport is no exception to that.”

He narrowed his eyes at her words.

“She is not of an impeccable reputation.”

Edward exploded. “This is scandalous slander, Mother! You yourself have just admitted that this is gossip. Such chatter, as we all are aware, rarely contains truth.”

Edwina held his gaze resolutely. “Are you suggesting that either my friends or I are speaking untruths?”

“I did not mean that you…” Edward faltered. “That is to say…” He breathed out heavily in exasperation. “I am not suggesting you are being dishonest mother. I am merely pointing out that you yourself stated there is gossip about Frances. Gossip cannot be relied upon.”

“That is true.”

Her admission astonished him. She was never one to back down so easily. He waited apprehensively to hear what else she had to say.

“Be that as it may, I have it on good authority that… I can barely bring myself to say the word.” She hesitated.

“What? What do you have on good authority?” Edward demanded to know.

“You simply cannot marry her. You simply cannot.” She said shaking her head. “I forbid it!” Again Edwina was on her feet.

“On what grounds, Mother? On what grounds do you forbid me to marry Miss Davenport?” He also stood and faced her.

“There are grounds enough.”

“But unless you speak out and actually tell me, Mother, what they are, you have no grounds at all!”

“It is known throughout town!” she cried shrilly.

Edward was at snapping point. He believed in his heart that Frances was one of impeccable reputation and anything that was spoken against her was pure malicious, slanderous gossip, nothing more. “Tell me!” He bellowed at his mother. “What is known throughout town?”

Their mother was weeping now. All her hurt and disappointment showed in her countenance. “Nobody speaks well of her. They pity you. Her reputation is sullied. They’re all saying it, Edward.”

Edward yelled his question once more. “What is it they are saying about Frances throughout town, Mother?”

“That she is a doxy!”

Chapter Eleven

Edwina’s words cut Edward deeply.
She described more than one indiscretion of which Frances was reputed to be part, with enough detail that they couldn’t be shrugged off as baseless gossip. Edward was numb. He did not know what to say. The pain in his heart was akin to that of bereavement. According to all of his mother’s acquaintance, the woman he loved so dearly was a wanton harlot.

Poor Grace grew increasingly uncomfortable whilst her mother-in-law described Frances’ escapades, which, by her account, were numerous. Grace, despite being a wife and soon to be a mother, was still little more than an innocent girl. Midway through Edwina’s discourse, Richard insisted that his wife leave the room. Her discomfort was palpable, and in her condition, Richard did not want her to be unduly distressed.

The hours stretched on, and Edward heard nothing good said about Miss Davenport. Edwina demanded that Edward seek an audience with Frances and persuade her to call the engagement off. Edward refused. Mother and son argued more. The argument ended only as Edward stormed out of the house and headed for home, enraged.

The ride home gave him ample time to nurse his righteous indignation. He stormed into his own house, ignored the inquiries of the butler, and flung himself into his favourite armchair before the cold fire in the study.

In the encroaching darkness and the calm of his surroundings, his natural levelheadedness returned as the uncharacteristic red rage ebbed. He replayed the whole sorry event in his mind. No matter which way he looked at it, it seemed Frances was vilified. It seemed to him there was no solution except the one his mother suggested.

He leaned his head back against the chair, closed his eyes, and fought the defiance as it rose up inside him. He could break with his family entirely. He could defy his mother and marry Frances anyway, but he cared too much about them and his own career to be so foolhardy. He loved Frances so dearly. Perhaps the rumours were true; perhaps they were lies. He hoped with all of his soul for the latter.

He knew there was but one recourse. He had to see Frances and confront her. He had to lay bare the claims that were at her door. He had to confess to her all that he heard about her and ask her, once and for all, to refute it.

And what will I do if she cannot refute it? What if she says it is all true?
He tormented himself. He thought over and over of ways in which they could get past this. Whatever the truth was, above their heads always would linger these spiteful allegations.

He asked himself if he really cared whether she was a virtuous woman or not. Would it really make a difference to how he felt about her?
Of course it wouldn’t! Love is not such a fickle thing!

* * * *

Frances was desperate. She stood before Edward and wept. Every single word and accusation levelled at her, true though they may be, sounded far worse coming from his mouth.

She feared she would lose Edward, but she refused to be ashamed. She would never be embarrassed by what she had done and how she acted. After all, it was commonplace. What she objected to was the insinuation that she was spoiled goods, that she now was no longer worthy to be any gentleman’s wife. It disgusted her that such behaviour could be carried on under the noses of the gentry—in fact, the gentry freely partook of such pleasures—and a blind eye was turned until it was discovered. When it was discovered, who paid the price? The woman! The woman alone was chastised, castigated, and ostracised.

What hurt her so profoundly that she could barely breathe was the thought that Edward would now turn aside from her, that he would repent of his love for her and demand she break off their engagement.

“So it is true? You do not deny any part of it?” Edward asked her staring at her in desperation, his eyes willing her to deny each accusation.

She could not speak. Her throat clamped up so tightly with emotion that she could not give voice to her answer. Reluctantly, she nodded.

“Oh, dear God!” Edward leapt out of the chair, ran his hands through his thick copper hair, and paced the room. “What have you brought upon me?”

Frances was incensed at the suggestion. “I have not brought anything upon you, Edward. I have done nothing wrong to you. All of these things that you accuse me of, that your mother accuses me of, that her friends accuse me of, are in the past.”

“In the distant past?” Edward asked, clearly grasping at straws.

She continued to watch him, the growing desperation and her belly making her feel nauseated. She shook her head.

“What you mean, no?” He was so angry at her that he seized her by the shoulders and shook her. “What do you mean, no? When did you last take a lover? Was it while you were trying to win me?” he hissed.

Again, Frances shook her head, her tears rolling freely down her face. “No. I promise you, I have not been unfaithful to you, Edward.” She sobbed, “I love you.”

“You say that, but what do you know of love?” Edward’s features were contorted with resentment. “You have known other men. You have not kept yourself pure!”

“Purity? Is that what you want in a wife? Or do you want a wife to love you?” she fired back at him.

Visibly, he was taken aback by her retort.

“Well? Do you want purity in a wife or do you want a wife who will sincerely, wholeheartedly, and will all her being love you?

Her bottom lip trembled as she stood there staring desperately at him. She observed how he seemed to mull over her words. His evident pain caused her more anguish as the moments stretch on. “Well?” she sniffed. “Which do you want? Or is it, Edward, that you expected to find both simply because your brother Richard did?”

He shot a withering look in her direction. “You leave Richard out of this.”

“But that is what this is all about, isn’t it? You know full well that there are very few pure women in the
ton.
” At his look of astonishment, she threw her hands up in the air. “Dear God, Edward, are you trying to tell me that you honestly think that everyone in society is virtuous?”

He shrank back from her.

“Let me enlighten you, Edward. Most of society is full of illicit encounters worthy of the rumours spread about the Prince Regent and Lord Byron.” She stepped forward, emboldened by the confession. “And let me tell you about them too. What they say is true. Almost every lady has a lover and almost every gentleman has a mistress. Those who do not are considered priggish.”

Edward snorted at her claim.

“You may doubt me, Edward, but you have not been in society often enough. Go and ask your friends at Boodle’s,” she ordered, pointing a finger out of the window and in the direction of that gentlemen’s club in Pall Mall. “Go on! Go and ask them how many of them keep mistresses! I think you will be surprised at how large a number of them do.”

When she finished speaking, it was as though all of the air had gone out of her. She slumped down on the edge of her double-ended chaise longue. “And yet,” she said in a soft voice, “when a lady is discovered to have participated in that which everyone, it seems, participates in, she is damned.”

Frances began to resign herself to her fate. Edward would leave her. He was an upstanding politician who could not afford scandal in his life. She had no recourse but to give him up. Would she be satisfied returning to her old ways after unexpectedly finding love?

* * * *

Three days had passed since Edward sought an audience with Frances. He broke off the engagement. He did not see any possible way in which they could continue. His heart was breaking, yet he had to go on. He buried himself in his work.

One bright morning, as he was taking a stroll in the garden, Edward was only mildly surprised to see Lord Davenport’s carriage pull up outside the house

“Lord Davenport!” he called out in greeting to the man he now viewed as his patron. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Edward had no doubt about the reason for the visit; Lord Davenport was there to discuss the situation with Frances.

As he stepped down out of the carriage, Lord Davenport raised his walking stick in greeting to Edward, but instead of moving towards him, turned instead to go into the house. “I’ll not beat about the bush, Emberton. You know why I am here.” He addressed the butler directly. “Bring us something to drink, and not tea. I need something much stronger.”

Edward nodded his assent to Stainton as he scurried to catch his guest up and followed the older man into the house.

Lord Davenport grunted. “This still is one of my favourite drawing rooms, Emberton. Your mother has a good eye for decorating. I might consult her one of these days.”

“Do be seated.” Edward directed his guest to one of the settees. He did not wish to tell Lord Davenport what his mother thought of him. He knew the only reason the man was making small talk was because Stainton was still in the room, pouring two large glasses of brandy for them both.

Stainton placed the drinks on a small silver tray atop the low table in the centre of the room, bowed, and took his leave. It was then that Lord Davenport, after taking a sizeable mouthful of brandy, addressed Edward. “What’s all this nonsense I hear about you and Frances breaking off the engagement?”

Edward was at a loss to know what to say. “What has Frances told you of the matter?”

Lord Davenport leant his walking stick against his left leg and waved his thick fingers in the air. “Never you mind what the girl has said to me. I want to hear your part of it.”

The last thing Edward wanted to do was injure Frances’ reputation to her father’s face. There was also no point in lying to him. Lord Davenport was a practiced politician and able to smell a lie halfway through. Edward took a deep breath and prayed for strength.

“About a fortnight after our engagement, I heard some alarming reports that implied Frances’ reputation was not all I supposed it to be.” He spoke as tactfully as he could, hoping to soften the blow and place some of the blame upon himself. He would rather Lord Davenport be angry with him than cause a rift between father and daughter.

“Indeed?” Lord Davenport’s steely face unnerved him.

Edward nodded, reluctant to elucidate further.

Lord Davenport drained his glass dry and held it out towards Edward. “I think I need another one.”

Edward was not going to argue with that. He almost leapt out of his seat to take the glass and refill it. Perhaps the alcohol would help to save the poor man’s feelings. It came as a crushing blow to hear that the woman he loved had such a sullied reputation. He could not imagine how it would be for her father to hear such things said against her.

“Then what happened?” Lord Davenport took the glass from Edward and drank heavily from it once more. “Do not spare me, Emberton. I am well able to withstand the truth.”

Unsure of the veracity of his statement, Edward took a deep breath, cleared his throat and began to tell Lord Davenport, with a trembling voice, all that passed between himself and Frances that afternoon and the allegations that lay at her door.

The old man sat in complete silence. Not once did he look up at Edward as he listened to the recounted events, nor did he move, save to sip repeatedly from the brandy glass. Edward was disconcerted by the time he finished. Not only had he torn Lord Davenport’s daughter’s reputation to shreds, but now he feared he would lose his patronage too.

What he had not expected was for the man to look him directly in the eye and to nod in the matter-of-fact way he did. “I see.” He said nothing more. He drained his glass, stood, and departed Sandon Place without another word.

Edward thought to never see or hear from him again.