Page 29 of One Waltz with the Viscount

‘She knew she was marrying a Viscount, so she did not believe you truly could be poor?’ Miss Shepherd ventured.

‘I think she had visions of grand balls and spending her days shopping for fine silks. The reality was vastly different. As I had been warned, everyone except a few close friends from my world shunned her, and she was too ashamed to go back to the people she had grown up with, the people she had told she was escaping for a better life.’ He’d hated how sad she had always looked, how miserable, after being told there were no invitations for her, no social events she would get to go to. ‘I was prepared to leave my old life behind, but I think she did not realise it would be as difficult as it was. She was miserable.’

He sighed and slumped back against the bench. It was improper posture for a gentleman out and about, but right now he could not bring himself to care.

‘I found out a few years later, during a terrible argument, that Anne had been engaged to another man, before we met. A butcher’s assistant. I never knew about him, never knew they were due to be married, never knew she had chosen a life with me over marrying the man she loved.’

‘She didn’t love you?’

‘No,’ Henry said, still feeling the pain of the realisation cut through him. He had thought they were united in their love, a single entity bound together to face the challenges of whatever life had thrown at them. In reality, Anne had seen his infatuation with her and thought she had the opportunity for a better life as a Viscountess. When she had realised he was telling the truth, and had very little by way of income, she had turned bitter. Things may have been better if they had been accepted by society, able to attend events together and get out of the house, which had slowly felt as though it had turned into a prison. ‘She never loved me. And as the months and years went by, she increasingly resented me.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Miss Shepherd said, the warmth back in her eyes. He hadn’t told her this story to gain her sympathy, but he wanted her to understand why he could not marry her, not under any circumstance.

‘There is more. Anne fell pregnant a few years into the marriage but lost the baby a few of months before she was due. We were both devastated, but I think it was the final insult to Anne’s poor mind.’

Miss Shepherd grew still, as if sensing the tragedy he was about to tell her.

‘At the time we lived in a set of rooms in the lodging house I owned. I had painstakingly renovated it and we’d moved in a year or so earlier. It was comfortable, with our own entrance. Three other families lived in the rest of the building.’ He swallowed, thinking of how he had been out just walking around, not wanting to return to the oppressive atmosphere of his own home. ‘I had been out and I was walking home when I heard shouts of fire. I think I knew immediately what had happened.’

‘It was your house?’

‘Yes. The blaze had taken hold and the neighbours had started a water chain to try to stop it from spreading to nearby buildings. There was no hope for our house though. The fire burned for two hours before it could be put out completely. Thankfully the families who lived upstairs were all either out or had managed to escape, but Anne...’

‘She died in the fire?’

‘Yes. The inquest recorded a verdict of accidental death, but I have my doubts that it was an accident. Anne was in extremely bad spirits, and no matter what I tried she pushed me away. That day I actually thought she was a little better. She had talked of maybe taking a trip somewhere together. Now I see it was because her mind was made up and she had a plan to resolve her situation. She was at peace.’

Miss Shepherd reached out and took his hand, gently laying her fingers over the top of his. It was a small movement, one that no one passing by would notice, but he was grateful for it. In the months after Anne’s death he had sunk into a deep melancholy, alternatively blaming himself for the tragedy and hating the anger he felt towards his late wife.

‘You lost your wife and your home all in one moment.’

He inclined his head. In the aftermath of the fire he had been scooped up by Lord Shrewsbury, taken first to his London home, and then, when all the formalities requiring Henry’s presence in London were completed, to one of his country estates. Shrewsbury was a true friend, and he and his wife were still so invested in Henry’s happiness.

‘I told myself I would never marry again. It was an unmitigated disaster. I married a woman who I thought loved me, who only wished for the trappings she thought came with the title. We made each other miserable for four years and then she became so overwhelmingly sad she took her own life.’

‘Yet you are searching for a wife again.’

‘For the sake of my sister. When I married Anne my father stopped me from having any contact with Sophia. He said I was a bad influence. I have not seen her for years.’

‘And she has been left in the care of your father,’ Miss Shepherd said, nodding in understanding. He was thankful she was so level-headed. Many young women would not have taken his treatment, his refusal to even contemplate marriage after risking her reputation, without a great fuss. Thankfully, Miss Shepherd was much too practical to hold a grudge.

‘Through friends and mutual acquaintances I have been able to keep an eye on her from a distance, but I have had a lot of time to think these last couple of years. I feel guilty for having abandoned my sister for so long, and wish to find a way to see her again.’

‘Even if it means marrying someone you do not love?’

He gave a short, mirthless laugh. ‘I tried marrying for love, for ignoring the social norms, and look where that got me.’

‘Is there not...’

He shook his head. ‘I know what you are going to suggest, that I look for another way to satisfy my father and gain access to my sister, but I have had years to consider this. There is no other way. If you knew my father, you would see what I mean. He is cruel and unreasonable and does not mind doing anything to maintain the upper hand and get what he wants.’

Miss Shepherd was silent for a moment, studying his face in that serious way of hers. Eventually she nodded. ‘I know our acquaintance has not been a long one, but thank you for telling me.’

He was surprised himself at this need to be unburdened of his story. His closest friends knew the sordid details of his marriage, but no one else was aware of what an awful disaster it had truly been. All the outside world had seen was him marrying a young woman of a lower class, retreating from public social life and then tragically losing his wife in a fire four years later.

‘You are welcome. Now, shall we see if we can find Mr Peterson?’

Chapter Ten