Babs glanced quickly at the clock on the mantel. An hour and a half had passed since she had sat down with the dowager, and she was astonished. “I had no notion of the time, my lady. I have been prosing on for far too long and I do apologize,” she said contritely.
“Nonsense,’’ said the dowager countess briskly. “I have enjoyed our little cose immensely. You and I must talk again, quite soon.”
Babs knew that she was in a fair way of being dismissed, and so she took leave of her mother-in-law. She left the room without the nervousness that had accompanied her into the interview.
When the maid had shown Babs out, the dowager said, “Macy, I wish to speak to my son. Pray convey my request that his lordship wait upon me at his convenience.”
“Yes, my lady.’’ The maid left the room with the tea tray, and when she went downstairs, she relayed her mistress’s message.
In due course, the earl was told.
Lord Chatworth had just come in and was about to go up to change for a dinner engagement when the butler relayed the dowager countess’s request. He frowned slightly. His mother’s unmistakable command was unusual. “Thank you, Smithers. I shall go up immediately.”
Lord Chatworth took the stairs two at a time and made his way to his mother’s suite of rooms. At his knock on the door, he was instantly admitted by his mother’s maid.
“Ah, there you are, Marcus. Macy, you may go,” said the dowager. The maid instantly left the sitting room.
Lord Chatworth’s brows shot up in surprise at his mother’s abrupt demand for privacy, but he quickly schooled his expression. He was wary now, and wondered again what could possibly have set up the dowager’s hackles. He went up to the settee upon which his mother reclined and bent forward to kiss her cheek. She had raised her hand to him and he took it lightly between his own. “Good evening, Mama. You look quite fetching in that cap. Is it new?”
She withdrew her hand to gesture for him to seat himself in the chair opposite. “Thank you, my dear, for the compliment, no matter how insincere it is,” she said dryly.
Lord Chatworth grinned. He knew better than to protest against his mother’s decisive rejection of his flattery. She was in a rare mood and he was willing to play along with her. “I should not compliment you at all, Mama. It is too fatiguing to attempt to persuade you of my good intentions.”
Lady Chatworth smiled and shook her head, her eyes softening a little as she regarded him. “I know full well of your goodness of heart, my boy. I have proof of it every day of my life.”
Marcus snorted, and his lips twisted in a peculiar smile. “Come, Mama! Doing it too brown, are you not? I lead a scandal dog’s life, as well you know. You are not so immured at Wormswood that you do not hear of my doings.”
“I prefer to turn a deaf ear to the worst stories,” murmured the dowager countess. She glanced at her son and her eyes were extremely keen. “One must preserve one’s own sense of serenity, I have found. It cannot be left to another to provide.”
Lord Chatworth was taken aback by what he could construe only as an unprecedented attack. He and his mother shared an uncommon bond of affection, one that tacitly left unsaid those things that would inevitably have led to argument. He was well aware that his mother did not care for his rakish propensities, and though she sometimes mildly commented upon it to him, she had never attempted to dissuade him out of it, perhaps knowing that she would be wasting her breath. Nor had she ever allowed herself to place blame upon him for giving her pain. At least, not until now. The earl wondered grimly exactly what had so overset her ladyship’s usual manner.
“Marcus, I visited with your wife today,” said his mother coolly.
He stiffened, now at least certain of where the fault lay. His eyes were hard as he thought of what he would say to his dear wife for her temerity in upsetting his mother. “I take it that it was not a particularly pleasant visit?”
“On the contrary, it was most pleasant. I liked her very much. You could not have done better if you had applied first to me for my opinion. Imagine my astonishment when I discovered that she was the daughter of one of my dearest girlhood friends,” said the dowager.
Lord Chatworth sat quite still. That his wife had succeeded in bamboozling his mother he had no doubts at all. The sheer audacity of it angered him. He studied his mother’s serene expression. “Surely you did not swallow whole such a fortuitous circumstance as that.”
The dowager countess put up her brows and she suddenly bore little resemblance to the frail elderly woman that he had carried upstairs the evening before. “Pray do not be a nodcock, Marcus. I am not yet in my dotage. The connection is there. The girl had no notion that I had been once acquainted with her mother, or for that matter with her aunt, Lady Azaela Terowne.” She had spoken sharply, but now she regarded him in a speculative manner.”I begin to understand, I think. Babs told me that yours is a marriage of convenience, built upon a business arrangement. You never thought to look beyond that. My dear cloth-headed son!”
“Thank you, Mama,” said Lord Chatworth bitingly. He was furious, but he did not know if it was more with his mother or with his wife. His thoughts pounced on his hapless wife. “It appears that my wife has given away more than she should have. I should have suspected that she would be overawed by you and would bleat out the story, complete with all the ugly details. Damn her eyes! You were not to know of those damnable debts of mine.”
There was a long silence, during which Lord Chatworth came to realize two things. Upon his hasty words, the dowager countess’s astonished eyes had swiftly risen to his face. As though it was trumpeted, he knew that she had known nothing of what he had spoken about. The other realization was that he had deeply wronged his absent wife, and for some reason that at once shamed and angered him.
“Your debts, Marcus?” The dowager countess’s voice was completely void of expression. “Pray, is that the business arrangement Babs spoke of? That your debts were to be paid and in return she would become your wife? I had wondered what was the reason behind your hasty marriage, but I hesitated to pry. But now . . . Yes, now I think that I must have the round tale, if you please.”
Lord Chatworth passed a harassed hand through his hair. “I have made a rare mull of it. Yes, since you must know of it now, that was the bargain. Her father approached me with the scheme, which I felt compelled to accept.”
“It is a damnable bargain!” Lady Chatworth’s voice shook with barely repressed violence. She looked up at her much-astonished son, her eyes glittering with a frightening degree of emotion. “That man—her father—he bought himself a wife in just that way. I often thought of her with true regret. Dear gentle Amanda, forced into a marriage beneath her and thereafter shunned by her family and friends. She firmly denied all my invitations so as not to expose me to that toadying husband of hers. And now, that man dares to use that poor girl to promote himself! He dare to use my son!” She had half-risen in her chair, her hands clutching the arms to support herself. Her countenance was livid with anger.
Lord Chatworth sprang up and eased her back onto the settee cushions. “Mama, pray! You are overwrought.”
The maid had rushed inside at sound of her mistress’s raised voice, and now he glanced at the woman. “A lemon water!”
The maid bobbed a swift curtsy and left the room running.
Lord Chatworth turned again to his mother. She had collapsed against the back of the settee and one hand covered her eyes. He asked softly, “Mama, are you quite all right?”
She straightened, her hand dropping away. “I am perfectly all right,” she said firmly, but her mouth was still held tight and her face remained white. “It was but the shock of it all. Marcus, I insist upon the truth. Does that wicked man retain a hold upon you?”
Lord Chatworth hesitated, contemplating a lie. But there was fierce demand in her eyes that he could not deny. “For the moment only. I shall work free of him before long,” he said. His jaw tightened in response to his unpleasant reflections. Cribbage had much to answer for, he thought, and not the least was the upset given to the dowager countess. Marcus would not easily forgive himself for inadvertently giving his mother cause for such shock, but it was Cribbage whom must bear the brunt of the blame. It was Cribbage whose influence had poisoned the lives that he touched.
“I trust that you have told me the truth. I shall say no more about it,” said Lady Chatworth. Her voice shook with the effort required to make such a promise. She caught hold of her son’s sleeve before he could straighten away from her.
Lord Chatworth was surprised by the stern demand in her expression. “I shall say something about Babs, however. She is the daughter of my good friend, and your wife. I shall have her treated as such, Marcus.”
He was taken aback by her vehemence. “But of course, Mama. I have naturally allowed her full rein. My quarrel with her father does not extend to her.” Even as he uttered the words, however, he suspected that he did not speak entirely true. He spared little thought for it, though, and went on in his reassurances to his mother. “Ours is a marriage of convenience. Babs is free to pursue whatever interests she may get up, just as I am free to continue with my old acquaintances and life. I ask no questions of her, and I am perfectly willing to fork over for whatever bills she may acquire. It is proving a satisfactory arrangement for both of us.”
“Is it, indeed! Well, let me tell you that it is not satisfactory in my eyes,” said Lady Chatworth sharply. “You have shamefully neglected your duty toward that poor girl. She does not recognize it for herself, but I shall tell you to your head that I was astonished as I listened to her go on about her shopping and her domestic trials, with only visits to Lady Azaela to relieve the tedium. Babs is too young to lead a cloistered life such as mine, Marcus. And that is not the worst of it, my son. You have not made the least push to establish her credibility in society’s eyes, nor have you taken the time to learn anything about her. Good God, Marcus, have you any thought for what others think? They shall hardly show proper respect for the Countess of Chatworth when you do not do so yourself.”
Lord Chatworth was reluctantly impressed by his mother’s reasoning. His sense of duty, at times appearing haphazard to those who witnessed only his excesses, was nevertheless firmly established. His mother was right; he had neglected his duty toward his wife.
He had left her alone every evening, not even inquiring whether she might enjoy accompanying him to a soiree or some other function. His friends had taken to referring to her as the Ghost Countess, which he had previously shrugged aside, but now he saw quite forcibly as good-natured contempt that reflected full upon his own consequence. “Exactly what do you suggest, Mama?” he asked quietly.
Lady Chatworth knew from his mild retort that she had scored her point. “Perhaps an introductory ball and a soiree or two. I shall myself preside in order to lend countenance to my daughter-in-law, who shall desperately need such support if the malicious are to be confounded at this late stage.”
Lord Chatworth did not acknowledge the further aspersion to his handling of the situation. “Very well. A ball it shall be. Here is Macy at last with your lemon-water. I shall leave you to rest, my lady.” He bowed over his mother’s hand and left the sitting room.
As he continued on to his own rooms, a frown darkened his brow. His mother had given him much to think on, and though she had angered him to no small end, he was too fair to lightly cast aside the justice of her sharp observations. It appeared that he would have to bestir himself somewhat in this marriage of convenience, after all.
The earl chose to join his mother and his wife at luncheon on the following day. He was not uncognizant of his wife’s surprise before she managed to school her expression. It only served to point out more strongly the truth of his mother’s accusations of the evening before. His mood, which was already one of reluctant compliance to the discharge of his duty, was not improved, and he said abruptly, “It has occurred to me that we have not yet entertained. I have all the tabbies scolding me for being remiss in introducing my wife to society.”
Lord Chatworth’s glance slid to his mother’s face and he saw that she was amused by his oblique and uncomplimentary reference to their discussion the night before. He returned his gaze to his wife’s carefully neutral expression. “A ball will do the thing, I believe. Babs, I shall trust you to the details. Pray call upon my secretary for any tasks that you may need him for. He has some knowledge of who are my particular acquaintances, and so forth, so that he can be of aid to you with the guest list.”
Babs was dismayed by the earl’s pronouncement. She felt totally unequal to the task of putting together a function of the sort that she knew he would take for granted. The very thought of coming face to face with any of those personages who might recall her disastrous comeout two years before made her feel physically ill. But she knew it was expected of her to take up the responsibility, and as she was unable to object, she said tightly, “It shall be just as you wish, my lord.”
The earl’s brows snapped together. He was impatient of her obvious reluctance and he was on the point of delivering a curt set-down when the dowager countess spoke up.
Lord Chatworth had not been the only observer of Babs’ anxiety, but the dowager came far closer in guessing the reason behind it. “Even though I have been long out of society, I might also be of help to you, my dear. One’s first ball can be quite a challenge, as I recall, and I was used to be accounted a fair hostess in my day,” she said.
“Thank you, ma’am. I shall be glad of your advice,” said Babs with a fleeting smile. She managed to push down the worst of her fear as she made a civil reply. “I know little about entertaining on a large scale, and even less about those who might expect to receive an invitation. I am not familiar with society, you see.”
“You will learn soon enough. It will be a squeeze, I’ll wager. If nothing else, curiosity about the new Countess of Chatworth will draw the hordes,” Lord Chatworth said indifferently.