Page 18 of The Inconvenient Compromise
“We shall see,” Fiona answered noncommittally. She was not certain being the bell of any ball was within her capabilities.
“Shopping first,” Penelope said with a. smile. “One step at a time.”
“And after our shopping excursion, we are to call on Lady Deerfield.” That statement was made with no small amount of dread. Lady Deerfield was a formidable woman, a veritable dragon of a society matron who brooked no fools. She also harbored a deep and abiding dislike of Lady Bruxton and Lady Habersham, who was apparently at the root of the gossip.
“Yes,” Penelope agreed. “And before you ask your next question about whether or not you will be invited to many more balls, that is already in hand. Lady Deerfield herself will be hosting one, and I have it on good authority that she has already contacted her grace, the Duchess of Westerhaven, who is hosting the event of the season just next week. They are great friends.”
As the carriage began to slow, Fiona impulsively said, “Thank you for this. For being so welcoming and accepting when I was not at all kind to you.”
Penelope shook her head. “There is no place for kindness in Charlotte’s presence. It is only ever seen as a sign of weakness there. It would have made her and the others turn on you even more so. And you were never unkind to me, Fiona. We both did what we had to in order to protect ourselves. But we are free of it now—free of her.”
“Not quite yet.”
“She is not defeated, but we are no longer bound to her… no longer beholden to her, and that is a reason to rejoice,” Penelope insisted. “And some lovely new gowns for you will also be a reason to rejoice. So let us go and have Sabine work her magic for you. A new wardrobe is the greatest armor a woman can have.”
When they reached the dress shop, it was mid-morning. The street was crowded with shoppers. As they emerged from the carriage, Fiona was acutely aware of the stares that greeted them. It was clear that the gossip had preceded them.
Entering the dress shop, they were greeted by the Countess of Winburn, Sabine. She was already there waiting for them and greeted them with a warm and welcoming smile.
“Fiona and Penelope! I’m so glad you’re here,” she called out happily.
It was all for show. Fiona knew that. But it felt nice to be welcomed so effusively by those whose welcome was not so changeable. Her dealings with Lady Bruxton had left her deeply insecure and always anticipating that the tide would turn against her.
“New fashion plates have just arrived, and there is a bolt of rich, green velvet that would look divine with your coloring,” the countess said. “Come, let us get your measurements, and we will begin.”
Fiona followed the countess and Penelope to the back of the shop while other patrons looked on. Her acceptance by them had been cemented in the eyes of society. Soon the gossips would be spreading that bit of news far and wide. It would spur Charlotte’s fury and set their plan in motion. There was no going back. Everything they did from this point forward would be like waving a red cape before an angry bull.
FIFTEEN
Wednesday—The Club…
The betting book at White’s was full of various wagers—all of them casting either himself or Fiona in a poor light. There were the usual wagers regarding any eloping couple—that a babe would be born well before the ninth month of the marriage. He didn’t like them, but they were the least worrisome. Others were that he would throw her over for Lady Bruxton. Some stated that he was naught, but a pawn who would soon be begging Charlotte Farraday for the return of her affections, and his bride would be heartbroken. In short, every possible outcome was there except for the one where he and Fiona lived happily ever after.
So that was the wager that he made. For one hundred pounds, he put himself down as being in favor of it being a love match—proven by their continued cohabitation and mutual fidelity for at least one year.
It wasn’t a love match, of course. He liked Fiona. He was unaccountably drawn to her. But love was a foolish notion for poets and young, starry-eyed boys fresh from the country. No, what he would have with Fiona was far better than just the ridiculous adoration that so many called love. They would like one another, desire one another, and respect one another—surely, if love did exist in any true fashion, it would be comprised of those things.
With his own wager in the betting book and a tidy sum of money to be won from it down the line, he made his way toward the dining room. Ralston would be there, along with the Duke of Westerhaven and possibly Winburn. Lady Bruxton and Lady Habersham had wrought havoc in all of their lives and in the lives of those for whom they cared quite long enough. It was long past the time those viperous women were stopped.
Approaching the men gathered there, he greeted them and then got directly to the point. “What, between the four of us, do we know?”
It was Lord Ralston who spoke first. “I was afraid to say too much last night as I didn’t want some of the information overheard. But there are more than just the four of us who want her stopped. Kenworth is one, of course, but so is Lord Mayville… Apparently, there was quite a bit of ugliness there as he was romantically entangled with Lady Bruxton before she became Lady Bruxton. I also need to apprise you of Miss Weddington’s current status.”
Lucian reached for the decanter of brandy on the table. He filled a glass and drained it quickly. “The Weddington chit first, now that I am braced for it.”
“She’s escaped,” Theo replied succinctly. “She was being transported from the asylum in Bath to a ship which would take her to the continent and a clinic there to treat her… ailment, for lack of a better word. And she has escaped.”
“She is the greatest threat to your wife… So far as I know, she’s in no conflict with Fiona. That’s not to say she’s harmless, of course. And given that she’s an immediate threat, we should probably deal with that first.”
Winburn shook his head. “If Charlotte Farrday deems your wife a threat, then trust me when I say that Miss Weddington will do whatever is necessary to eliminate her. I cannot stress to you just how dangerous this woman is. She is completely insane. The attempt she made on Lady Ralston’s life, and the attempt she made on Isabella’s life were both incredibly brazen and very calculated… And both were committed at Lady Bruxton’s behest or because Miss Weddington presumed to know what Lady Bruxton would want from her in that situation.”
Lucian said nothing to that, but it weighed heavily on his mind as he sipped his brandy and considered what their next move should be. “We’re currently at Mivart’s, but I’ll need to find better and more permanent lodgings for us for the remainder of the season. I don’t think it’s safe to stay in a place where people come and go quite so freely.”
“You will stay here,”Theo insisted. “There is safety in numbers, and we certainly have room for guests for the season.”
Lucian shook his head. “You are a married man now, Theo. You should know that such invitations must first be cleared with one’s better half.”
“Penelope has already informed me that we should invite you to stay,” Lord Ralston insisted. “I think she feels very protective of Fiona. She recalls only too well what it was like to be on the receiving end of Lady Bruxton’s cold shoulder. Having friends is very important. More important still is for others in society to believe you both still have friends.”
