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Chapter 14
The butler at Aylesham Housetook Ben’s invitation into his gloved hands and perused it before looking up. “Welcome, Lord Winton,” he said. “I’m afraid the reception line has already dispersed, but you will be announced when you arrive at the ballroom. Please follow the footman.” He gestured to a serious-looking young fellow wearing spotless livery.
The young footman stepped forward.
The butler handed him the invitation.
“Thank you,” Ben said and then proceeded to fall in line behind the footman as they continued through the entrance hall and down a main corridor. He could already hear the rumble of conversation and the music the orchestra was playing.
When they reached the main doors of the ballroom, the footman cleared his throat. “Benjamin Fortescue, the Earl of Winton,” he announced before disappearing back down the corridor from which they had just come.
It was immediately obvious by the crush of attendees that the ball was a complete success. He was glad of it, for Rebecca’s sake. While the footman’s voice had been clear and distinct, the noise of activity muted his announcement enough that only those in close proximity to Ben actually heard it. It didn’t bother him a bit; he preferred not to be the center of attention. Besides, he was perfectly capable of seeking out Aylesham and his duchess in order to greet them properly.
Which he intended to do as soon as he spoke to Rebecca.
He made his way farther into the ballroom, nodding a greeting to some, bowing and offering a proper greeting to others. But he was a man on a mission. He wanted to show Rebecca that he had honored her request to attend this evening, that his intentions regarding her had completely changed. He loved her. She was not at all like Gemma, who had ruined his faith in women’s words. Rebecca was upright and honest and impulsive in sharing her feelings, and he was determined, despite his failings and past history, to trust her declaration of love for him and not to allow his wretched past to have any more bearing on—
He spied her on the dance floor.
She was waltzing with—hmm . . . He knew that man. Who was he? Ben had been away from London too long, too caught up in his woes. What was the gentleman’s name?
They turned, and Ben got a better glimpse of the man’s face. He’d been an acquaintance of Gemma’s, that was it. One of the gentlemen in her close circle of friends. Hugh Mandeville.
And then it struck.
The ballroom suddenly darkened and swirled around Ben as though he were caught in a whirlwind. Images and voices flashed and collided with each other.“I envy you, Winton. It seems you have won the heart of our dear Gemma,”he could hear Mandeville saying from somewhere in the past.“Charming, titled, andwealthy. How can any of us mere mortals compete with that?”A smirk. A chuckle. A knowing glance between two people.
But the voice that now spoke the loudest was Gemma’s:“You. I want you,”she had said as she had lain there dying. When Ben had taken her hand in his and assured her, much as he had done with Mr. Buckle just mere days ago, Gemma had whispered “no” to him, and he hadn’t understood why. She had also said she was sorry, right at the very end.
Because she hadn’t been sayingyouat all. She’d been saying, “Hugh.I want Hugh.”
The last piece of the puzzle fell into place, an illumination that cut through the whirlwind and finally showed the entire picture. It explained Gemma’s words. It hadn’t been Ben’s support she’d wanted. It had been Hugh Mandeville she’d been longing to have with her as her life had ebbed away.
It explained why a baby who had been born after seven months had been as hale and healthy as though born at full term, something Ben had recognized at the time but had shared with no one. Ben had known the wretched state of his marriage. And he had understood, despite the doctor’s explanation, that midwives sometimes got an infant’s due date wrong. Gemma had fooled him, had fooled them all, except at the very end, with the birth of Rose. It had all become clear to Ben upon the arrival of Rose. No one but Ben knew that she was not his child.
And right now, at this moment, watchinghimdancing with Rebecca, seeing him gaze at her the same way he’d gazed at Gemma, Ben was willing to stake his life that Hugh Mandeville was the natural father of baby Rose.
He thought he might be sick. He breathed in deeply and then again, trying with all his might to control the emotional whirlwind and his physical reaction to it.
“Excuse me, Lord Winton,” a voice cut through the turmoil. “Are you well? May I be of assistance?”
Ben glanced to his side to see who was speaking to him. It was Rebecca’s father, Viscount Thurlby. Ben hadn’t even known that Rebecca’s parents had intended to journey to London for the ball. He took another breath. “Thank you, Lord Thurlby. I’m sorry if anything I did gave you concern. I am fine.”
Lord Thurlby didn’t look completely convinced by Ben’s assurances. “If you say so, Winton.” His face brightened. “On a lighter note, I am certain my daughter will be pleased to see you, if only to demonstrate that your little accident didn’t have any lingering effects on her enjoying her Season.”
Ben feigned a smile for the viscount’s sake. “I expect you speak the truth, my good man.”
“The supper dance is nearly at an end,” Lord Thurlby said. “Before you say anything, I know, I should be dancing with my lovely bride. But I never quite managed to perfect my waltz steps, you see, and so she found a young buck to do the honors. Friend of our son James. Perhaps I shall attempt to waltz with Lady Thurlby later when there are fewer people present to witness me cause my good wife embarrassment. Since it appears you aren’t with a dance partner, either, you are welcome to join our little party for supper.”
“Thank you, Lord Thurlby. I believe I shall do just that.” It wouldn’t do for Ben to walk up to Rebecca and Mandeville, not in the middle of a waltz. What would he do at that point if he did? Snatch Rebecca from Mandeville’s arms, drag her away from the man like some brute? Accuse Mandeville of adultery in the middle of the dance floor? Challenge him to a duel? No, Lord Thurlby’s arrival had been fortuitous, Ben realized, for it had not only given him enough of a pause to collect his wits but had also allowed him to determine what he should do next. Or at least it had given him enough of a pause to avoid doing something rash that would create scandal and ruin Rebecca’s evening.
“Come, then,” Lord Thurlby said. “Let us go to the supper room, shall we?”
Ben nodded his assent.
They had barely begun making their way through the various groups of chatting guests when the music came to an end. “Ah,” Lord Thurlby said. “Not a moment too soon.”
And then, just a few moments later, Ben heard Rebecca’s voice. “Papa! There you are. Mr. Mandeville was hoping to be introduced—Ben!”
