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CHAPTER15
February 14, 1812
Well before the sun rose,Edward was, finally, on the road back to London from Brighton. He checked his pocket watch and smiled to himself. There was a chance, however slight, that he might arrive at Billington House just in time to change and go to Lady Mowbray’s St. Valentine’s Day Ball. He would, more likely than not, arrive a bit late, but he could surprise his sweet Georgiana and deliver Eugenia’s letter while at the Ball, as well.
* * *
Susan was attemptingto do a much better job on the embroidery piece she’d been working on, or rather, repeatedly unpicking and reworking, ever since they had arrived at Billington House, when a footman strode into the parlour.
“The Count D’Asti is downstairs and requesting to see Miss Wingfield. Should I show him in?”
Susan blinked, rather surprised at that announcement. Her mother, Georgiana, and Eliza all looked over at her, as if silently asking whether she wanted to see the Count or not. Curiosity got the better of her.
“Very well. Show him in.” Susan sighed and set her embroidery work aside on a dainty little table. I’d rather not accidentally stab myself again. As the footman left the room, Susan flicked a glance at her mother and sisters, who were all leaning towards her, not bothering to hide their curiosity about why the Count might be visiting. She couldn’t resist giving them a crooked smile. “Feel free to stay and listen in, sisters. I have nothing to hide, and I know that Mama is not going anywhere, because a chaperone is necessary.”
Her sisters looked relieved that they would not have to wait to have their curiosity regarding the Count’s unexpected visit assuaged. Susan was more than a little curious herself, truth be told. She wasn’t sure what the purpose of his visit today might be, and she was more than eager to find out.
Moments later, the Count strode into the room and, once everyone in the room had risen, extended polite greetings to each of the Wingfield women in turn. When that was done, Susan gratefully resumed her seat and motioned at the chair opposite her settee, giving him a gracious nod.
“Do sit down, Lord D’Asti. Make yourself comfortable.”
“Thank you, Miss Wingfield.”
“I am going to get straight to the point. What brings you to Billington House today, Lord D’Asti? I rather expected you to be visiting… elsewhere… after the Page Ball last night.”
She raised an eyebrow at him, inviting him to explain himself.
“I would like to pay a visit elsewhere, but I thought it best that we first discuss how we are going to untangle ourselves, with our individual reputations intact, from the situation that the betrothal rumour has put us in. I do not wish it to damage either one of us any more than it already has.”
Lord D’Asti grimaced, then, finally acknowledging that his choice to try to use the rumour to trap Susan into marrying him had been wrong, and that maybe — just maybe — he was sorry he’d done it.
Susan smiled, acknowledging his point. Given that he had so plainly raised the matter which she wanted to resolve, Susan chose to repay that refreshing blunt honesty with more of the same. There was no reason not to discuss the discoveries of the previous evening with Lord D’Asti, now.
“I believe that I may have at least an idea of where we might start that untangling… After what I saw at the Page Ball last night, I sincerely suspect that Lady Henrietta Gale — the daughter of Lord and Lady Middlebrook — is the source of the rumour which claimed that I have been promised to you since my birth.”
The Count raised an eyebrow.
“I see – and what leads you to that conclusion, Miss Wingfield?”
“At that Ball, Lady Henrietta made an attempt to trap Lord Seabury into marriage. That attempt was, fortunately poorly executed, but it came far too close to succeeding for my liking. And certainly, far too close for Lord Seabury’s peace of mind!”
Susan heard the gasps which her sister and mother quickly repressed – after all, she had not told them what had actually happened either - she had only spoken of it to Georgiana, who had been right there when Lord Seabury had realised the truth of the occurrence.
The Count gave Susan a rather grim smile after a moment’s consideration of her words. It was a smile which reminded her of a cat about to stalk a mouse… When he spoke again, his voice was soft, yet underlaid by a startling intensity.
“If that is the case, then I believe that the best course of action we can possibly take is to find a way to trick Lady Henrietta into admitting that she was the one who started the rumour, and admitting that fact in front of witnesses – preferably the biggest gossips of the ton. It would spare both of us damage to our reputations, and for you, it might serve a dual purpose by revealing the truth to Lord Seabury, if I am not mistaken about where your affections truly lie.”
“Your suspicions about my affections are correct.” Susan’s face heated with a deep, rosy flush, but she held the Count’s gaze. “We shall have to watch Lady Henrietta closely at Lady Mowbray’s St. Valentine’s Day Ball tonight, and hope that an opportunity to trick her into a witnessed confession of the truth presents itself.”
At that moment, there came a tap on the parlour door.
“Enter.”
Susan wondered what on earth might be important enough for Williams to interrupt them. She watched as the door opened and the butler came in. He offered the correspondence tray.
“A message, Miss Wingfield – from Mr John Stephens.”
Susan scooped up the note, her heart pounding, as everyone else in the room watched her. Williams went out, leaving her in the centre of a pool of expectant silence. She broke the seal on the letter, and unfolded it. There was a single sentence written upon it. It read:
‘All traceable paths of the rumour lead back to Lady Henrietta Gale.’
Susan gasped, and the smile which came to her lips was a match for the grim one which had previously graced Lord D’Asti’s face. She handed the letter to the Count.
“I believe that this is all the confirmation we needed. We have made the right plan.”
* * *
