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“I am afraid I am. Please, Caro, say that you will help me?”
Caroline did not agree straight away. She finished her wine, turned on the spot, and offered alternative ideas before agreeing that none made sense. Eventually, she nodded, for they could both see Lord Rutherford across the room, searching for Marina.
“If you would prefer to be a fallen woman than marry that man, I could not abandon you now,” Caroline said with fervor. “Let it be done then, just as you plan. Find his bedchamber, stay there a while, and after I see he has left the room, I will encourage others to go on a tour of the house with me. We shall ‘stumble’ upon the bedchamber by chance.”
“Thank you, Caro, thank you!” Marina quickly embraced her friend before Caroline pushed her away.
“The Baron is coming this way. Go, go now.”
Marina saw her friend was right. Lord Rutherford was heading in her direction, and the redness of his cheeks suggested anger at letting her escape for so long. Fearful of what that anger could mean for her, she hastened from the room, once more carving a confused path past the dancers and those that laughed and tittered, trying to avoid the Baron catching up with her.
One time, when Lord Rutherford had come to call on her, he’d been drunk indeed. The chaperone had blushed bright red at all the things he’d said to Marina, and even though she had begged him not to say such things, he’d gripped her hand hard, saying he would not have a disobedient wife.
I fear he will be violent…
Nothing could dissuade her from her goal. She knew it was risky, and this thought kept coming back to her as she escaped the ballroom and found a set of stairs, hurrying up them two at a time. Hitching the skirt of her ballgown high, she ran with vigor.
I will escape him, no matter what the cost!
Her parents would be furious at her descent. Her father, in particular, would never forgive her for her name appearing in the scandal sheets, but it was a sacrifice she was willing to make, compared to a lifetime of misery married to Baron Rutherford.
To her surprise, it was not difficult to find Lord Frampton’s bedchamber. It was behind the most elaborate door on the landing, the plaster around the doorframe molded into vine leaves and rose buds. Opening the door, all was dark. She hastened to light a candle, filling the room with soft light, before she sat down on the edge of the bed.
For a minute, her breathing stuttered, and her hands shook. She was prepared to partly undress for her deception to work, but it was not an easy thing to do.
“Remember what I am doing this for. Any sacrifice,” she muttered to herself then she reached for the laces of her gown. Slowly, she untied them and stood, stepping out of the gown and laying it on the bed before she turned to the door.
With her palms sweaty and her heart thudding hard in her chest, now she just had to wait for Lord Frampton to arrive. Even if he never had cause to go to his bedchamber, her discovery here unclothed by Caroline and others would be enough for supposition to grow and her name to be ruined.
The longer the time went on, the more she wondered what would happen if the Lord did find her there first… Would he be glad of her appearance there?
* * *
“Your Grace, you cannot have forgotten that night so easily.”
“I didn’t say I had forgotten, merely that night came to an end.” James was curt with the words, but the lady continued on. She was standing a little too close for comfort here in the ballroom, her hand occasionally reaching out and brushing his own.
With worry, James looked around the ballroom. It was full of people tonight, and clearly his brother had spared no expense in wanting a grand affair.
He cares what the ton thinks, does he not? He’s always out to impress.
James’ eyes found his brother across the room. Neil Follet, known by others as Lord Frampton, was quite the center of attention. Gentlemanly, well dressed, and of an affable manner, he had always been the family’s favorite. James hadn’t minded his brother being the favorite. The only thing that disappointed him was that over the years, he had lost Neil’s good opinion.
He could still remember the last conversation he and Neil had had on this subject.
‘You’re a gambling hall owner, James. You know what people think of you, do you not? I am tainted by association!’
James supposed the invitation sent to him to come tonight was Neil’s way of not wishing the ton to see there was a divide in their family. It gutted James to the core, but he was happy to play along if it would earn him some respect from Neil.
“Your Grace?” The lady beside him longed for his attention again, and he turned back to face her. The Countess of Warrington was persistent. A beauty with curling black hair and startlingly dark eyes, the night they’d spent in passion had been an enjoyable thing, yet he had thought she’d known that was all it was. At the time, she’d accepted it, but now, it seemed she wanted something else.
“My Lady, we have talked about this.” He lowered his voice, talking to her in confidence. “You have your suitors, plenty of them, but I am not one of them. You were happy with our arrangement the last time we talked.”
“Is it so wrong to hope one night could become something more?” she asked, attempting a sweet tone. He could have laughed at the attempt, for it was so ridiculous.
“Do not place hope on me, My Lady. I am not the man for you.” He turned away from her and tried to escape across the room, but to his dismay, she followed. He reached for a drinks table where citrus fruits had been laid out for a non-alcoholic punch. He was about to pour himself one when the Countess turned up at his side again.
“One dance, Your Grace, that is all I ask. Perhaps my company could change your mind?” Her pleading was desperate. He could not stay to listen.
