Page 79 of Miss Determined
“But you are willing to try?” Was this why Miss Brompton was unpopular—she lectured people on their lapses, or worse, threatened to expose them? What a silly, pitiful thing to do.
“I have no wish to bring scandal down on anybody, but I don’t like to see a lady ill-used. Lord Tavistock will shortly be offering for me, and given your past… I owed you a warning.”
Lissa sank onto the bench, feeling herself abruptly out of charity with the day. “Lord Tavistock will not be offering for you.” Lissa spoke with more confidence than she felt. Hecate was nobody’s fool, and she seemed quite convinced that she was to become the next Marchioness of Tavistock.
“He will, and for the same reason, I will accept. To do otherwise is to be ruined. I am at the point where I almost relish the thought of ruin—the Antidote Heiress is my latest sobriquet—but scandal has a way of contaminating the innocent, and that I cannot abide.”
Such a lovely day, and Miss Brompton spoke with such bitter conviction. “Is Giles Purvis the reason you are willing to marry a man you don’t love?”
Miss Brompton had an elegant profile, and her features were well proportioned. Straight nose, firm chin, generous mouth, and eyes that brooked no foolishness. For the first time, though, Lissa noted that those eyes were sad. Behind all the propriety and dignity, Hecate Brompton was both lonely and sad.
“I try not to speak that man’s name.” Sad, lonely, andfurious. “You know my cousin Charles. His side of the family got the title. We got the money. What you do not know is that Charles intended to marry you. He was genuinely fond of you, though for him and his brothers, fondness will always include an element of pecuniary appreciation.”
“He was fond of my settlements.”
“And of you, but Eglantine found herself in a scandalous condition, courtesy of a titled bounder. Purvis mentioned Eglantine’s situation to Charles and negotiated the settlements, which were outlandishly favorable to Charles and his many creditors. Eglantine’s son—in line to inherit the title—is not Charles’s offspring.”
In Crosspatch Corners, this would be passing gossip, and of no particular moment if everybody was happy. This was Mayfair during the Season, where no personal problem could solve itself without somebody pointing fingers.
“Is Purvis threatening to tell all? That would violate every tenet of his profession.”
Hecate turned her face to the sun, something a London lady could do without much fear of freckles, because the light in Town was weak compared to its rural counterpart.
“The only tenet Giles Purvis adheres to, Miss DeWitt, is greed. Some lordling or peer made untoward advances on his sister years ago, and he’s used that excuse to wreak vengeance on his betters ever since. My companion explained it to me when Charles and Eglantine married. She warned me, but I thought I was safe.”
“I am sorry. As we speak, Lord Tavistock is preparing to give Purvis his congé, and his lordship is confident he can do so without repercussions. If you were hoping for a proposal, you’d best adjust your expectations.”
Miss Brompton’s smile was wan. “I gave up hoping for an acceptable proposal years ago, Miss DeWitt. Once you reach our age, you realize that marriage is society’s way of ensuring women never question their powerlessness. We’re too busy hoping the next baby doesn’t kill us. I have funds of my own, and now that I’m such a fossil, I have control of them. The last thing I want is to marry and have that independence taken from me. Tavistock seems a good sort, if a bit too tall, and if he proposes, I will accept him nonetheless.”
“But legitimate by-blows are a fact of life, Miss Brompton, particularly a fact of aristocratic life. We need look no further than Devonshire House or Almack’s for examples.”
Miss Brompton rose, and while she was not tall, she had a commanding presence. “My nephew bears an unfortunate and nearly exact resemblance to his sire, while his younger brother is Charles to the life. I don’t much care what befalls Charles—his treatment of you earns my disregard of his fate—but Eglantine was seventeen when he married her. She had been out for half a Season, and that philandering varlet could not keep his hands off her. He was and is married, of course. For her and the children, I will become Tavistock’s marchioness, and from that lofty perch, I can make life very difficult for the author of Eglantine’s misfortune.”
Amaryllis rose as well and linked her arm through Miss Brompton’s. To appearances, they must be two young ladies having a pleasant chat while they strolled back to their waiting horses.
“You’d marry for revenge?”
“Not precisely. More for the sake of my nephews. You think a legitimate by-blow ought not to be of any moment, but Society never lets those by-blows forget their status. Lady Cowper’s patrimony followed her to London, and her frolics outside of wedlock will follow her children and grandchildren. Society has a long and malicious memory.”
“And Purvis would unleash that fate on innocent children?” He would. Lissa knew instinctively that he would.
“Of course, and if he’ll threaten children, then he’d think nothing of using the Vincent family’s dirty linen to get Tavistock to the altar.”
“So that Purvis can rob you blind, when he’s finished robbing Tavistock blind.”
“Precisely.”
Lissa accepted her mare’s reins from the groom and climbed aboard, a slightly awkward undertaking, though the mare stood placidly while Lissa sorted out her skirts. Miss Brompton accepted a leg up and gathered up her reins.
“I’ll see you back to your mama’s side, Miss DeWitt.”
“I can find my way, and I appreciate your honesty, Miss Brompton, but I fear Purvis’s scheme is doomed.”
Hecate turned her mare back the way she’d come. “Why is that?”
“The Vincent family closet has no dirty linen. The old marquess was a martinet and a bore, but everybody passes that off as indicative of a less genteel era. The present marquess is honor personified.”
Miss Brompton looked like she’d argue with that conclusion—let her try—but instead, she saluted with her whip.
