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Chapter Five
Reginald leaned over the bannister, watching as the staff completed the last of the ball’s preparations. The usual holly and ivy served as decoration for the winter’s ball, embellished with the odd red rose in full bloom. Maids had polished the floor to a mirror-like sheen. Candles illuminated the room with flickering firelight, and watching it, Reginald felt his stomach twist and churn.
He thought of Charles, who lived in a crowded room, which he and his wife shared with another family. They had no source of heat in the miserable place, and although Reginald had always been greeted with great warmth, the room was perpetually damp.
What a waste.But it won’t be a waste if I can make this work. I can share this with people who genuinely need it.
Reginald curled his fingers around the bannister. He considered calculating the costs of the extravagant ball, but he feared the knowledge would only make him more nauseous. A poor man always knew the costs of everything, and despite having officially returned home weeks before, he still didn’t feel as though he really belonged.
He took a steadying breath and reminded himself that hehada reason for indulging in this. It was a necessary evil, meant to win him a bride and an inheritance. He’d then have enough money to help the people he cared about. Already, he’d sent letters to Charles and Edward, explaining the turn of events and inviting them to come to call on the estate. Reginald would prefer to give them, at least, some small amount of money when they visited.
“I suppose the top of a staircase is an adequate place for brooding,” said a wry, cheerful voice.
Reginald turned his head. A woman stood a few feet away. She was a tall, plump woman dressed in a blue gown, trimmed with gold and pearls. White-blonde curls framed her finely-boned aristocratic face and artfully swept over her blue eyes. Reginald tried not to think about how many pounds her necklace might cost. It was an extravagant piece made of sparkling sapphires and emeralds, which was crafted to resemble a blossoming flower.
She was accompanied by a man, who vaguely resembled her. He shared the woman’s cold blue eyes and her blonde hair, but he was otherwise quite her opposite. He was as thin as a sapling, all bones and taut skin.
Both of them looked as if they expected something, but Reginald hadn’t the faintest idea what that might be. Was it some performative greeting? Some superficial appreciation for their presence that he’d forgotten?
“You have me at a disadvantage,” he said, scrambling for the appropriate wording.
Should I know you?Wouldn’t work very well, after all.
The woman smiled a little awkwardly. The man cleared his throat. “I’m your cousin,” he said. “Simon.”
The man he was supposed to be reclaiming his title from. Reginald inwardly cringed. How was he supposed to feel about this? If Simon truly had nearly bankrupted them, he was ill-suited to the position, but Reginald doubted he’d be any more effective. How could he be when he’d not lived as one of thetonin adecade?
It was best to ignore that problem. It wasn’t as if he could control his knowledge—or the lack thereof—so he’d do better not to linger on it. If he’d learned anything, it was that worrying about problems beyond one’s own control was at best, useless and at worst, detrimental.
“Then,youmust be my lovely aunt,” he said.
His aunt Blaire Danvers was Simon’s mother and widow of the late Earl of Greenburrow. Reginald had seen her last at his mother’s funeral. Already, his poor aunt had been clad in black; her husband died of consumption the same year, and it seemed cruel of the world to have one of her dearest friends breathe her last as well. On that day, Reginald’s father had hidden his tears and asked his son to always be kind to his poor grieving aunt.
“So I am,” she replied, smiling gently. “I do forgive you for not recognizing me. It’s been so long, after all.”
“Indeed,” Simon said. “Ten years now, isn’t it?”
Reginald felt a subtle shift in the air. Everything seemed to become hotter and thicker around him. He felt as though he might choke on his own cravat, carefully pressed and tied by his valet. The secrets which he’d long-buried in the past threatened to rise from their graves, and the longer Reginald looked at Simon, the more he yearned to saysomething. That one night, the night Reginald had left, loomed large in his mind, like a wintry specter. He let out a low breath of air and forced a smile.
“Yes, I suppose it is,” he replied.
“You must feel out of place,” his aunt continued.
“I do,” Reginald said.
It wasn’t just that he felt out of place, though. It was that he feltwrong. Everything from the ball’s decorations to the clothes he now wore felt like a mockery of everything he believed. His aunt’s heavy necklace probably could’ve fed the whole population of Southwark for a year or more, which was why he had to do this. He had to help those good, hard-working people. They’d come to depend on him over the years, and his heart would break if he had to leave them without even a scrap of his aid.
“You’ll learn to live like this again,” Blaire continued. “Gentility isn’t so easily forgotten. It’s bred into you.”
“I suppose we’ll see,” Reginald replied. “It shall be like an experiment.”
One which I’m sure the ton will watch quite eagerly.
Reginald wondered if many of the ball’s guests would only come to satisfy their curiosity. The long-lost Marquess of Hurrow, found at last! Thetonwas probably already imagining how the drama would unfold.
“I suppose it can be,” Blaire replied, “if you want to think of it as such.”
Simon cleared his throat. “It sounds like an experiment which might interest some of the fellows I know at Oxford. I know a handful of men who are interested in the questions of man’s breeding. And of course, the Americans have much to say about it.”
