Well after the appointed time, the butler entered the room and spoke privately with the Countess Lanercost. The older woman frowned deeply, looked around the room as though an explanation might present itself, then sighed. She stood up from her chair and waited while the butler moved back to give her space to address the crowded room.
“Dear guests, I have unfortunate news,” she began in a commanding voice, and all eyes turned to her. “It seems the Earl will not be able to join us after all. We’ve held you waiting long enough, and he sends his apologies but insists we begin without him.”
A soft buzzing murmur made its way around the room as the assembled guests looked to one another in shock. More than a few guests appeared somewhat aghast. Who invites the ton to dine then does not make an appearance at his own table?
Harriet looked confused, then horrified. “Sister, what if the Earl has taken ill?
But Marjorie only smiled. “It’s no large matter. I’ve not met him, but despite his apparent age I’m sure he’s in good health. There are any number of reasons why someone might have been called away. Come, let us find our places.”
“Do you not know the earl?” Harriet asked as they meandered behind the guests into the dining room.
Marjorie shook her head and leaned close. “No, I’ve never laid eyes on him. But when you consider the countess’ age, it’s no wonder her husband might be unable to attend. He may be quite a few years her senior, remember.”
She felt a pang of unease as she spoke. Would this be her lot in life? Attending to her guests alone and making excuses while her husband was laid up in bed, too feeble to even come down and dine with their friends and associates? She bristled at the thought, then pushed it from her mind. She had no cause to think on these awful things tonight.
After seeing Harriet to her own place at the table—and promising her little sister in an urgent whisper that she would be fine on her own—Marjorie found her place card further up and took a seat. She was surprised to see she was seated so close to the earl, and relieved that she wouldn’t have to be such an entertaining guest that evening. Her father, seated somewhere between Marjorie’s place and Harriet’s, cast her a warning frown, one that was clearly meant to remind her to put in a good word for them.
Taking her seat, Marjorie looked around the finely set table, feeling a pang of loss. Her own parents once hosted lavish events, and as a girl she would sneak into the dining room while the servants made the preparations. She was always entranced by the chandeliers that glittered overhead, the silver that had been freshly polished, and the great cauldron-sized bowls of flower arrangements that were cut from their own gardens only that morning. Now, those days were long behind them, and without her mother’s touch, any attempt at hosting such a supper as this one would fall terribly short.
“And have you bought your season’s finest in London yet?” a woman to Marjorie’s right said, starting out the conversation.
It took Marjorie only a moment to recover. “Oh, this and that. I prefer not to travel that distance myself unless I’m visiting family, but I often send word with a friend who’s going that way. I’ve just gotten back a beautiful bolt of muslin and some very nice ribbons,” she said, politely responding.
“You should travel with my niece then, she’s about your age,” the woman continued as a servant placed a small bowl in front of her. “She’ll be making the trip to visit her aunt on her father’s side very soon.”
“That would be lovely,” Marjorie answered, at first hoping the notion would die out before a plan could actually be put in place.But then again, it would be a chance to escort Harriet before I’m sold off to the Duke, she thought bitterly. She gestured down the length of the table to where Harriet sat, fidgeting with her napkin. “Do let your niece know I would be honored to accompany her, so long as my sister is welcome to join us.”
“I will see to it that her mother receives word and calls on you.” The woman patted Marjorie’s hand as if finalizing their scheme, then turned to speak to someone on her other side, leaving Marjorie to her thoughts.
Chapter 8
Sometime after the fifth course, the assembled guests were surprised when the door to the dining room flew open and a younger man blew in, muttering apologies and straightening his waist coast. He hastily brushed back his reddish-brown hair and bowed slightly to the guests as he moved to a chair. A servant slid back the chair closest to Marjorie, and the man sat down.
At the far end of the table, the countess frowned with disapproval. The sudden silence filtering through the room dissolved as the conversations resumed, hushed at first but then growing louder with each passing moment.
“I don’t think that is your seat, sir,” Marjorie said quietly, pointing quickly to the place card in front of it.
She happened to look up at the young man, taking in his disheveled appearance and obvious disdain for formal attire, but there was something else there, something that made her breath catch in her throat. Even while staring down at a glass that was being poured, the set of his jaw and the fierceness in his eyes drew her in.
Oh, damnation!she thought.Am I never to be rid of this man?
“I sit where I like,” he answered back curtly without looking at her, gratefully accepting the glass of wine a servant poured for him then turning it up and draining it. He set it back down and the servant refilled it, but this time, the man waited a moment before taking a drink.
“Oh, do you now?” she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice at this outright betrayal to propriety. “I suppose you have no care for the ‘rules’ of these frivolous events? Or dare I say, the events themselves?”
“Not really, no. I’d far rather be doing something useful with my time instead of watching the ton’s wealthiest members gorge themselves on another person’s generosity, lingering over food they did not catch, harvest, or cook.”
Marjorie was stunned. How dare he?! As though everyone at this table did not entertain in turn, did not invite others to enjoy their own bounty for an evening’s entertainment! She looked around the table for a moment, wishing to be anywhere else, but all of the guests near her were otherwise engaged in conversation. All but that wretched Lady Catherine Howard, she noticed, who glared at her for some strange reason from far down the length of the table.
Unable to avoid it any longer, the man looked at Marjorie. He sat stunned as though struck by a sudden thought.
“You,” he began, but he stopped after uttering only that one word.
Marjorie shook her head slightly. “No. Don’t say anything.”
“You were the one riding alone yesterday. And then again in the carriage. Why do you pretend otherwise?” he insisted, his voice lower.
“It is not polite, that’s why.”
