The Unscrupulous Uncle (17 page)

“Tricking him into marrying you will not guarantee your entry into society,” Sidney shot back, again pitching his voice loud enough to carry. He had chosen a set next to the most vocal gossips. “Your manners are those of a servant, but why am I surprised? That is what you have been. Does your fancy lord know you have worked as a housekeeper since abandoning your place in polite society?”

“Having one’s family claimed by the hereafter hardly constitutes abandoning society,” she riposted. “And while I admit to sinking to a position as your poor relation, that hardly qualifies as joining the servant class.” She lowered her voice. “But I understand that your feeble mind might be incapable of discerning the difference.”
Please let this set be over!
Again he was deliberately ripping her up in public, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. What was his purpose? This went beyond his lifelong spite. She shivered.

“I wonder how you forced him into wedlock,” sneered that horrid voice. “A simple compromise would not have done it – no earl will take a servant to wife for such a reason. Did you seduce him? Are you carrying a token of the encounter with you now?”

He stared at her waistline until Catherine thought she would faint. Someone tittered.
I must say something,
she repeated to herself, but her brain had frozen in shock.

“Cat got your tongue?” Sidney gloated.

“Not at all,” she managed. “I was merely wondering if your malicious lies are as obvious to others as they are to me. Perhaps I should allow Damon to call you out.”

Fear flicked through Sidney’s eyes, but he banished it in an instant. “Nice try, but the truth will out,” he said.

“It certainly will – and the sooner the better,” she agreed, the assurance in her voice causing more than one face to crease in sudden thought. Lady Beatrice was nodding nearby.

She wanted nothing more than to leave the ball, but Sidney’s attack made it impossible. She tried pretending that she was enjoying herself, but she could see new rumors flying around the room and knew they concerned her. Each new group of gossipers turned speculative eyes from her to Hermione before breaking off to tell the tale to others.

She had champions, of course, starting with Lady Beatrice.

“That boy is a bad one,” the gossip proclaimed to Catherine, her eyes fixed on Sidney. “You handled yourself with admirable aplomb.”

“Thank you, but I wish I knew his purpose,” said Cat with a sigh. “How can I counter him? It is like batting away a cloud.”

“Perhaps he is in trouble and wishes to divert our attention. But do not despair, for I will discover the truth.”

Catherine thanked her for the support, but she did not believe it possible.

Louisa, Edith, Lady Ingleside, and Lady Sommersby also rallied around. Lord Rathbone questioned Sidney’s motives. Damon denied the charges, but few believed him. Colonel Caldwell led her out for the next cotillion, it being the only dance she could manage that allowed more than light banter.

“It is false,” he stated up front. “I know Damon too well to believe otherwise. But do you have any idea why?”

“That is the question of the hour. Sidney has always despised me. Lady Beatrice thinks he is diverting attention from some misdeed, but I suspect retaliation because Damon denied him a loan – not that I can offer that explanation to the world.”

“I doubt it is the loan. He cannot be that badly dipped, for he is not a gamester. Just hold your head high. The truth will eventually emerge,” he assured her. “I have witnessed this sort of attack before so I know what you are going through. A lad once cried foul when he wagered over his head in a game I won. I nearly lost my commission before a friend forced him to confess the truth.”

“Damon?”

“No. This happened ten years ago, before I met either Damon or Peter.”

“What was his motive?”

“He was afraid to tell his father that he had gambled away half a year’s allowance.”

“Pride is a terrible thing.”

“Very true.” He finished the change and led her into the next figure, correcting her stumble when she turned the wrong way. “Braxton is not the first to create tales out of whole cloth, either. There was a similar campaign three years ago against another innocent girl. I helped expose that one. The culprit was a madman who became obsessed with the young lady and tried to destroy her when she turned him down.”

“Did she recover.”

“She is now happily married with her reputation intact. I have no doubt that you will survive this spate of malice as well. Society will see reason as soon as the novelty wanes, but you are in for a rough time until then.”

“I expected no less.”

By the time the supper dance concluded, the gossips had each offered a theory to explain Devlin’s marriage. Lady Beatrice swore that Hermione had done something unforgivable, prompting Damon to wed another in retaliation. She cited Damon’s public cut as proof and vowed to uncover the specifics. Lady Debenham swore that Hermione was an innocent victim of Catherine’s unscrupulous scheming, reminding society that Cat’s own cousin admitted the charge.

Catherine was encouraged by the resulting debate. At least people were thinking, and many knew that Sidney was not a credible source. But since both theories were wrong, she tried not to expect too much.

Her biggest surprise occurred late in the evening. Lord James Hutchinson sought her out for a set of country dances, then remained at her side during the subsequent waltz, promenading about the ballroom. His pointed glare sent Sidney scurrying away.

He was dressed as Julius Caesar, with a laurel wreath planted firmly on his black hair. It gave him an unexpectedly distinguished look, the short tunic and breastplate becoming him better than any of the other Romans at the masquerade.

“Why?” she asked after half an hour of light flirtation. He was more subtle than Rathbone, though just as expert, but she suspected he had a different goal in mind. The heat in the ballroom had driven them onto the terrace – in full sight of the doors.

He did not pretend to misunderstand her. “I cannot allow Braxton to succeed, my lady. He is deliberately trying to destroy you, as should be obvious to anyone with the tiniest intellect.”

“Are you altruistic or do you merely dislike Sidney?”

“Both – and more. I have a bone to pick with your cousin, for he tried to fleece my youngest brother. I must clip his wings before he ruins anyone else.”

“Do you really believe I am innocent?” Her voice wavered on the words and she wished the question unasked.

“Of course. I am considered an excellent judge of character – that alone will enhance your credit. Neither you nor Lord Devlin is capable of the behavior implied by your cousin. But you should be aware that the
ton
will enjoy speculating for some time before they relent and admit the truth that is already staring them in their addlepated faces. Until then, you will need all the friends you can find."

“Thank you, my lord. But what benefit will you derive, other than embarrassing Sidney?”

Lord James suddenly seemed unsure of himself. “I am hoping to recapture the interest of a young lady,” he admitted at last. “She is taking my admiration for granted. If she thinks she no longer holds my regard, she may examine her heart and discover that she really does love me.”

“I see.” Catherine smiled. “You wish to direct your attentions elsewhere but do not want to risk hurting an innocent party.”

“Exactly. I can hardly endanger your reputation since I will be seeking to restore it. Enough people know I dislike Braxton to prevent unwanted rumors.”

“I wish you luck in your own campaign, my lord.”

“Thank you. Would you accompany me to the theater tomorrow – properly chaperoned, of course.”

“I would enjoy that.”

The music ended. Catherine had promised the next set to Lord Forley, so they turned back to the ballroom. Embarrassingly, her toe caught on the doorsill, knocking her off balance. She caught herself only after grabbing Lord James’s arm with both hands, her knuckles making a loud thump against his breastplate that drew several eyes to her predicament.

“Careful,” he admonished.

“Thank you, my lord. I nearly created a hideous spectacle,” she admitted with a laugh. “How the gossips would love that!”

“It is I who would get the blame for tossing you about.” He chuckled. “Relax and you will do fine. You are a diamond both inside and out, which everyone will acknowledge before much more time has passed.”

* * * *

“How dare you disclose financial information to others?” demanded Damon the moment he had chased Brigit from Catherine’s room.

“What are you talking about?”

“Jack knows about Sidney’s loan request. He could only have learned it from you.”

“So what? He asked about Sidney’s motive when we were discussing Sidney’s spite. You said yourself that must be it. Should I have lied and claimed Sidney was retaliating because we pushed him into the stream when he was five years old?”

Damon glared. “You do not discuss money with people you barely know!”

“Jack is your closest friend. He will not spread the tale further. He is trying to protect me from Sidney’s malice, but cannot do so unless he knows the facts. If you don’t like it, perhaps you should disprove the rumors yourself!”

“No one can help you if you don’t cease the top-lofty condescension, Catherine,” he charged.

“What are you talking about?”

“Dancing. Refusing sets because the gentlemen aren’t good enough for you will do you far more damage than anything Sidney might say.”

“Well, pardon me for avoiding society for eight years!” she spat, fighting tears. “You never considered that I might not know the steps, did you? It is so much easier to accept the criticism of others without thinking for yourself. I never thought you would turn into another mindless sheep, who blindly follows the fashion of the moment.”

She turned away to stare out over Berkeley Square, her tears now impossible to hide. Damon’s own behavior was making the situation worse, but how could she explain that without dredging up Hermione? There was no way they could rationally discuss Sidney if she clouded the issue with his former betrothal. But before she could find the right words, the door slammed.

She groped her way into bed, muffling her sobs with the pillow.

Chapter Eleven

Damon spurred Pythias to a hard canter, grateful that the early riders were not yet out. He needed to think – something he could not do in bed, for nightmares had intruded every time he dozed off. Finally giving up, he had headed for the park to blow away the cobwebs.

When had he lost control of his life? He hated scandal, yet for four days he had been caught in the center of one. Granted, it had not initially been Catherine’s fault, but she was keeping the stories alive. Both her address and her behavior were sadly lacking. She either remained silent in the face of Sidney’s charges or erupted in childish brangling. Her barbed comments had been overheard more than once. Repeating them made her sound like an arrogant fishwife.

And she continued to throw caution to the winds. The only way to counter the gossip was to demonstrate rigid propriety at all times. Instead, she had driven in the park with Rathbone – a renowned rake – and attended the theater with Lord James, a feebleminded, posturing poppinjay whose baggy pants and ridiculous cravats must make him a laughingstock. Neither action would have mattered in the normal course of events, but with her morals already suspect, she was pouring oil on the flames. Why couldn’t she have chosen her escorts from those known for rigid propriety – Ashton, Norwood, or Rufton, for example.

New tales surfaced daily in the clubs, accusing her of vulgar language, continuing liaisons, and a blue education. This last did not bother him, for she had always been intelligent. If only she would apply her common sense to dealing with society! But revealing serious interests at this time was unfortunate, for proving one rumor lent credence to the others.

His friends understood his dilemma. Hermione’s support was all that had kept him from creating a scene at the masquerade when Sidney started his tirade. She had even offered to teach Catherine about society, not that he had accepted. It would be unfair to drag her away from her own activities, and he doubted her parents would approve. But her concern had touched him. If only he had been able to follow his heart!

But he hadn’t. And the current disaster was mostly his own fault. He had ignored his promise to Peter for years, allowing Catherine to suffer alone. Had he done his duty and personally checked on her welfare, he would have learned of the will and could have insisted on a Season. If he had visited her after selling out, there would still have been ample time to find a respectable suitor. But he had not. By the time he’d discovered the truth, the only option had been to marry her. But the mistakes did not stop there. He should have presented her to society himself instead of relying on Louisa. His presence would have kept Sidney under control. Yet that would have meant throwing Hermione to the dogs, making her pay for his desertion.

He pulled up under an oak tree to allow Pythias a breather, then moved on at a more sedate pace.

Reviewing how he had arrived in this mess was pointless. He must look to the future. Hermione’s reputation would soon recover – she was again surrounded by much of her usual court – so he must start building a relationship with his wife. They had known each other all their lives…

But that was part of the problem. He felt no lust for her. He had thought of her as a sister for so long that bedding her seemed almost incestuous. Yet she was a beautiful woman. He mentally ticked off her attributes – glossy black hair, violet eyes, creamy heart-shaped face, voluptuous bosom, slim legs – but he could not move beyond anger at the loss of Hermione, whom he had wanted to bed from the moment he saw her.

He frowned. There must be some way to resolve his problem. Perhaps he should try to recapture the warmth they had shared before he left for Portugal. Was he still capable of warmth? That naïve young Damon had died at Vimeiro. Hardening his heart was all that had preserved his sanity through the carnage of war. Man was a brutal being, tamed by only the thinnest veneer of civilization. But that surface cracked easily.