Mistress at Midnight(21)

Breathing in slowly, Aurelia feigned the least bit of interest as she  picked at a thread hanging loose from her sleeve. 'In what way?'

'Perhaps he has cried off from offering his hand in marriage. Rodney  says his sister Lady Lindsay was never certain about such a match.'

'But Cassandra Lindsay told me Lady Elizabeth was lovely.'

'Lovely for a younger man, perhaps. Lord Hawkhurst needs a woman of more substance and resource.'

The words did not seem the sort Leonora would have normally used. 'Rodney told you that?'

'He did.' She clapped her hands across her mouth. 'Though on reflection  he asked me to say nothing of it to anyone and I should have respected  his wishes.' She paused for a moment and Aurelia knew that there was  something on her mind. 'The thing is … Lord Hawkhurst specifically asked  if you were coming tonight. I heard him enquire when he was speaking to  Rodney the day before yesterday.'

Despite trying not to, Aurelia reddened and felt the unwelcome glance of  her sister's puzzlement upon her. Would he wish to speak to her about  Charles? She had promised him a letter, after all, but had not penned it  because it was too precarious to entrust such a secret to a man whose  motives she did not comprehend. Could the whole evening be a trap?

'Everyone says Lord Hawkhurst is a dangerous man, Lia.'

'I do not need a warning to stay away from him, Leonora, if that is what you fear.'

Her sister frowned. 'There is something about him that reminds me of  you.' When Aurelia stayed silent with shock Leonora went on to explain.  'He cares not a whit for the good opinion of others whilst shepherding  what little that remains of his family out of the range of any  unkindness, and he has a certain menace that is … beguiling. All of the  women in society are half in love with him, of course, even given his  wildness, but the men admire him, too.'

'Then I cannot see much that is alike between us.'

'He holds secrets and keeps others out.'

'You think that of me?'

'Sometimes I wish you would allow us to help you more. There are things we could do, after all, if only you would let us.'

Turning away, Aurelia nodded. Leonora had grown up over the past few  weeks and was no longer the girl she had been. Rodney's influence, she  supposed, and was grateful.

'We could help at the warehouse sorting silks and Prudence could do your  books. She is most adept at figures, after all, and seldom makes any  mistakes. Besides, when I am married to Rodney I can bring the girls  out … '

'He has asked you?'

'Not yet, but I think that he will, Lia, I really do.'

An image of herself eight years earlier came to mind. She had told her  father of Charles's offer and of her wish to accept it and had been  startled by his lack of joy. If only she had listened to his caution and  cried off.

'Things will be better, Lia, I know they will be. Soon we will have  money to buy the things we need and a proper nurse for Papa. I shall  have pin money and servants and a house that is so very beautiful-'

Aurelia stopped her, the frozen ache of her own mistakes marking her  next query. 'But would you still love Rodney if he possessed none of  these things?'

The smile stayed in her sister's blue eyes. 'Of course I would. If we  lived in a tiny cottage with only a single table and two chairs, I  should be happy.'

Unlike me, Aurelia thought. So easy to see the stupidity in your own  blunders from a distance in time, a hapless eighteen-year-old with the  promise of freedom close. Any other suitor would have done her better; a  dozen swains and she had taken the one man whose words were empty and  whose character was flawed. Decisions held consequences that changed the  circumstances of every year that followed. Of all the people in the  world she was the one to know this; a wilful debutante who could not be  told.                       
       
           



       

In her mistakes a lack of confidence had crept in; an uncertainty over  any choice involving relationships had kept her a prisoner ever since.

At Medlands there had been friends of Charles who had made advances  which she had refused-even in London men had come calling. Good men,  respected men, men that did not listen to the rumours that swirled about  her. But she had never been interested, not even slightly, because as  her first freely given choice had been such a mistake it had left  her … wary. Yes, that was the exact word. Until Stephen Hawkhurst had  kissed her at Taylor's Gap and she had known to the very bottom of her  heart that she wanted more.

Fanning her hand, she enjoyed the cold air upon her face. How ironic it  was that just when she was beginning to feel in control of her own  destiny it might all be taken away.

He knew it was Aurelia St Harlow even from a distance and dressed in a  gown that made every other woman in the room pale into  insignificance-bright emerald silk, the colour of the sea in the south  of France in summer. Her hair this evening was piled into curls, an  artful coiffure of living flame, and her lips were full and sensuous  beneath the line of the mask.

'Why the hell would Charles's widow wear black for so long when with  only a bit of colour she can turn out like that?' Nat's voice held an  uncertain admiration.

'Perhaps because she no longer mourns her husband?' Cassie offered and  looked directly at Hawkhurst. 'It seems that startling beauty can  overcome even a ruined reputation. Word is much of the ton has abandoned  their dislike of her after the touching show of familial solidarity at  your ball.'

'O Fortune, all men call thee fickle … ' Hawkhurst recited, watching as a  bevy of young and old suitors lined up to speak with Aurelia St Harlow.

'Lady Allum does not look like she has been swayed by public opinion,  though is that not her youngest son amongst those awaiting an audience?'

Nathaniel laughed at his wife's remark. 'The sons of half the ton seem  to be queuing up, and with Mrs St Harlow's charms so generously on  display I can see why.' He laughed even more as Cassie swatted her fan  across his arm, catching her hand as she did so and bringing it to his  lips.

Hawkhurst looked away. Both of his friends had found women who completed  them, strong women with their own sense of place and backbone.

Women like Aurelia St Harlow.

Tipping up his glass, he watched her, the ornamental trees placed in  careful rows and bedecked in lights, giving his cousin's widow the  appearance of an angel held in an unearthly grotto.

He was glad Elizabeth Berkeley and her family were not in attendance,  for he did not wish to endure their eyes upon his back. No, tonight in a  room of stars and trees and colour he felt the sort of anticipation he  couldn't remember sensing for a very long time, the promise of something  magical and bewitching. Drawing his mask away from his face, he laid it  on the top of his head, pleased for the cold air and freedom.

'Your brother and Leonora Beauchamp seem cosy, Cassie,' Nat said as the young couple swirled by.

'She is a very sweet girl and most loyal to her sister. From general  conversation it is said that Mrs St Harlow was virtually a prisoner in  your cousin's northern property, Hawk, for all the years of her  marriage. Servants talk and the word is Charles was an offhand sort of  husband.'

'Offhand?'

'Seldom there. He had other pursuits that kept him occupied, by all accounts'

Shaking his head, Hawkhurst pushed back his hair. 'I was in Europe for much of that time … ' He left it there.

'Well, we all knew your cousin had a temper and Alfred said Mrs St  Harlow was melancholy. At your ball, remember. He said that it was good  to see her happier.'

Biting down on a growing frustration, Hawkhurst hailed a passing waiter.  This time he chose a non-alcoholic fruit punch because he had a feeling  that he might need all his wits about him in the coming hours and the  men around Aurelia St Harlow seemed to be multiplying by the second.

If only she could get away from the crush about her she might be able to  stalk Lord Hawkhurst and ask him outright just what action he was going  to take. She was sick of all this worrying and the champagne that she  had been plied with was also beginning to make her understand exactly  what it was that she needed to do.

The dress was uncomfortable, as was the mask. Leonora and Rodney were  still dancing and away in the distance she got a small glimpse of  Hawkhurst and the Lindsays watching her as if she were a … leper.

Freddy Delsarte was here, too-she had seen him when she had first  arrived-though he was nowhere in the numbers of those around her and for  that she was grateful. Opening her fan, she made an effort to listen to  an earl who stood directly beside her.                       
       
           



       

'I knew your husband at school, Mrs St Harlow. He was a friend of mine.'

'Indeed.' The warning bells had begun, clanging away in the bottom of  her consciousness. This was exactly what it was she did not want:  reminders of a past life that was shamefully submissive, reminders of  her powerlessness and her compliances.