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“I do apologize for the discourtesy of my departure. I was...unsettled.” He sipped at his coffee and debated what to say. But if he could not trust Jackson, who could he trust? “It was only that I encountered someone unexpected.”
“How the deuce…? Daniel, you hardly know anyone in London. How could you have encountered someone?”
“I met Hetty at your masquerade.” He spoke the words bluntly, trying as best to mask his vexation. What had transpired was no fault of Jackson’s.
“Hetty...your model? That’s not possible, my good man. I thought you said the girl was a maid of no consequence.”
“I did say so. But it turns out she is not. Not working class. In fact, she is not even Hetty Smith.” A cold and angry smile tugged one corner of his mouth.
“Not— Daniel, whatever do you mean by that?” Jackson set his cup aside, along with the remains of his breakfast plate. “If she wasn’t Hetty Smith—”
“She was not. It turns out her true name is Henrietta Stanton.”
“Henrietta Stanton…not Lord Crawford’s only daughter?” Jackson gaped briefly before he schooled his expression into something suitable for a man of his station.
“The very same.”
“And she was modeling for you? I can’t imagine her father knows about that, or he’d have you out in front of the entire ton over the matter—at the altar or on the dueling circle either one. And that’s if his son did not have you in the ring at White’s first.” Jackson’s expression ran through a gamut of emotions. “Daniel...please tell me that you’ve not decided to enter society because the girl’s father or brother has called you out.” He rose and moved to the sideboard to select a decanter and two glasses. “Do you need a second? Or a character witness? I’ll serve as either if you’ve need.”
“As it happens, I’ve need of neither at the present moment.” Daniel accepted a glass of strong spirits from Jackson. They were neither of them the type to imbibe heavily in the morning with any frequency, but this morning certainly called for a departure from normal routine.
“I can’t imagine how you’ve managed that. Unless you already agreed…?” Jackson raised a questioning eyebrow.
“To matrimony? Not at all. As it happens, the lady in question was not seeking that.” This time, the sound that escaped him was a poor shadow of laughter, harsh and mocking even in his own ears. “At least, not for herself.”
He sipped his drink, savoring the burn of the strong brandy Jackson had given him. “Did you know, Jackson, that Lady Henrietta is considered one of the premier matchmakers in London? She’s reputed to be quite the expert in such matters.”
“I cannot think that I ever heard such rumors. But then, it is not the sort of thing I would have given overmuch attention to. My own experience of romance involved no such considerations. But Patricia might have heard something of the sort. Has that some sort of significance to the matter?”
“All the significance one could wish for. It seems that Lady Henrietta had some hand in the recent engagement of the Earl of Cheswick, and that during their engagement celebration, she was locked in a wager with one of her female associates to undertake a more difficult match. To wit, it was wagered that she might match me with the female acquaintance who gave her my name, and within a span of three months see us both at the altar in wedlock to each other. Presumably happy, I suppose, though I cannot help but wonder if she might have chosen otherwise to maintain her reputation.”
“Did she really? You can’t mean to say…” Jackson trailed off, uncharacteristically lost for words.
“The charade as Hetty Smith, the modeling, the talking...it was all part of a ruse to learn enough about me to guide her friend in our eventual meetings, so that I would have a favorable impression of her and be persuaded to commence courtship. Presumably, there were other steps, but I confess I have no interest in the details.” He did not even try to keep the bleakness from his tone now that the whole of the sorry tale had been told.
There was a moment of heavy silence. Then Jackson came forward and laid a strong hand upon his shoulder. “I am sorry, Daniel. I wish I could have warned you. I would have done if I had known any of this at all. I trust you know that if nothing else.”
“I do. But it is the sad truth of the matter that, had I not been so reclusive in my habits, had I not determined to remain on my own for this Season, I should have known who she was. This scheme in its entirety was dependent on my ignorance of her true identity.”
Jackson swore softly. “It’s a damned sorry state of affairs, that a man cannot even have his peace and quiet to recover from the fields of battle, without some...duplicitous vixen of a maid setting designs upon him.” He sighed. “I’ve half a mind to write the Earl of Crawford and tell him what his daughter has been about, save that I can think of no way the telling would not cast a shadow on you as well.”
“There is no need. I have already written to Lady Henrietta, informing her that I am aware of her falsity and of her designs upon my person, and that I have no need of her presence at my estate any further. And with your help, I shall take my place in society and ensure that no further such schemes can be brought to fruition.” Daniel swallowed the remains of the contents of his glass and set it aside. “I suspect I shall have some business to see to, making my townhouse ready for habitation, having Danvers arrange matters to move everything from the country seat, and seeing that my correspondence is sent along the proper channels, among other duties.”
“That’s true enough. But if you’ve intentions to reenter society, have you thought where you’ll start? Your first appearance should either be highly indicative of your social allegiances, or neutral enough to avoid any hint whatsoever.” Jackson rang for a servant to clear away the dishes.
Daniel paused. Technically, his first appearance had been at Jackson’s masquerade ball, but as he had never been unmasked, he doubted any among the ton would consider it a true mark of attendance. He had no desire to delay his entrance into society either. He had little idea of whom his presence might best influence. Neither did he have the patience for sorting his correspondence to discern the facts of the matter.
He looked to Jackson, still waiting patiently for his response. “I had not thought so far along those lines, I confess. I was rather distracted and out of sorts.” It was a bit like saying, a cannon shot was rather loud and somewhat painful to be on the wrong side of, in its level of understatement. Jackson only nodded. “Have you a suggestion?”
“I have, actually. Patricia and I are members at Almack’s, and Patricia has a friend among the Patronesses. It would be little trouble to arrange a meeting, and get you set with a ticket and a voucher for tonight. You could attend with Patricia and I, make a proper statement on that regard, and set yourself up in good standing otherwise.”
Almack’s. It was the heart of the London Season, the gathering place of the best of Society, and also well-known as the place to fashionably find one’s spouse, if one were in search of such a relationship. An ambitious time and place to make his first public appearance since his formal assumption of his title, but there was some humor in the irony of the thing.
And what better way to show that he was not to be manipulated by some maiden? “I think that might be just the thing. You are sure it won’t put Patricia out, to arrange the matter in such haste?”
“Not at all. She said just this morning before she left that she thought you looked a bit morose, and that I was to notify her directly if I was informed of any way she might assist to lighten your mood.”
Daniel laughed mirthlessly again, though this time the sound held more of resignation and grief than of bitterness and rage. “It shall be some time before I am light in spirit, I think. But tell your lady I appreciate her care and her efforts on my behalf—and can she secure me the proper documentation for entrance, I should be delighted to accompany you both to Almack’s this evening.”
