Page 3 of The Viscount's Forgery
Eugenia spread out her hands. “I do not know.”
“We shall have to wait and see,” their father said, gently. “But in the meantime, there is nothing that can be done other than to wait and hope.” His eyes turned to Polly. “And you might thinkabout how you treat your sister, Polly, given that it seems she is to speak to the Marquess on your behalf.”
This made Polly’s face whiten as her throat bobbed, but Eugenia did not feel even the smallest sense of delight or happiness. Instead, the weight of responsibility settled on her shoulders, and she looked again down at her hands in her lap, wondering just what it was the Marquess would say to her… and just what she would say in response.
1
Six months later
Walking into the ballroom, Nicholas let out a small breath of contentment, a smile spreading out across his face as he took in the scene. It was a very busy room indeed, the chalk picture on the floor already dusted half to confusion, given the sheer number of dancers. He had only been in London for a little over a sennight but was determined to stay for as long as he could to enjoy himself. Yes, there was the responsibility to wed, but he did not have any intention of pursuing it this Season, however. Mayhap it would be next year or even two years later, for Nicholas was in no hurry.
“Viscount Suffolk, good evening!”
“Good evening to you,” Nicholas responded, quickly falling into conversation with an old acquaintance, Lord Greenlaw, another bachelor gentleman. When another fellow, Lord Marchfield, came to join them, he did not linger and chose quickly to take his leave. His vast wealth was, unfortunately, the reason for many a gentleman and lady to be interested in his company, and while Lord Marchfield was a friend, he also had asister whom he had previously pressed into Nicholas’ notice on more than one occasion and rather forcefully with it. Nicholas had no qualms about making a show of his wealth, however, for his manor house and his townhouse were some of the most magnificent in London, filled with treasures, curiosities, paintings, sculptures, and all manner of things which declared to all his vast fortune. Indeed, Nicholas had to admit that he took great pleasure in making certain he stood out from amongst theton, that he was shown to be in good standing with them all, whether they thought well of him or not. The only trouble was, he did not want to be knownonlyfor his wealth, and that, when it came to matrimony, was something of a difficulty. Ladies looked at him with diamonds in their eyes, no doubt imagining what treasures he might purchase for them. Gentlemen who had daughters of marriageable age thought to push their daughters into his arms, or if they had gambling debts and not enough coin, they might hope for a friendship between them both, strong enough that Nicholas would be generous towards them! Nicholas had no intention of lingering in the company of anyone who would treat him that way and thus, continued through the ballroom at a leisurely pace, speaking to a few friends here and nodding to some acquaintances there. There were, he noted, a few young ladies who had not had the pleasure of being acquainted with as yet, and some debutantes that he might like to dance with on occasion. That made him smile, his heart lifting all the more as he continued to make his way through the crowd.
“Ah!” Spying a familiar face and a very good friend, Nicholas pushed his way through the crowd to a quieter part of the ballroom, a little surprised that his friend would be hiding in amongst the shadows. He had already met the Marquess at a soiree some two days ago, and it had been a delight to see him again, though Nicholas had thought him a little quieter than before. “Whatever are you doing here, hiding in the shadows?”
The gentleman’s gaze slipped towards his and then pulled away again. “Observing?”
“Yes, observing.”
Nicholas, who had known the Marquess for many years and had never once seen him in such a frame, let out a chuckle. “I am afraid, my friend, you do not look in the least bit pleased to be here.” Nudging him lightly, he grinned broadly. “You should at least attempt to smile.”
“Iamsmiling,” came the response, even as the darkness that lingered in the Marquess’ expression failed to convince Nicholas of it, leaving him a trifle concerned. “I am quite delighted to be back in London.”
This dulled response brought a frown to Nicholas’s face. “My friend, this is the first ball I have attended in London this Seasonandthe first one I have seen you attend.”
“Indeed.”
“And you are not contented, are you?” Speaking directly, Nicholas folded his arms over his chest. “You need not pretend with me, you know very well that I will discover the truth regardless. I will press and question you until I find out.”
At this, the Marquess of Bothwell sighed. “No, I am not contented. Alas, however, I must pretend to be.”
“Pretend?” Nicholas dropped his hands to his sides, then reached to take a glass of brandy from a passing footman though his friend shook his head, refusing one. “Why must you pretend?”
“Because it is what one does, is it not?” The Marquess’ lips lifted mirthlessly. “I must pretend that I am a happy and contented gentleman, overwhelmed with happiness to be here in London and at one of society’s many balls else thetonare sure to whisper about me.”
This was not at all like the gentleman that Nicholas knew. Yes, they had not seen each other for some months, but that didnot mean that he had expected this severe change. His happiness at being at the ball quickly faded, replaced with concern for his friend. “Whatever has occurred to make you so despondent?”
The Marquess’ lips lifted. “You have always been direct, have you not?”
“I have,” Nicholas answered, with a shrug. “I do not see the need to speak at strange angles when I might otherwise walk a straight line.”
With a mirthless chuckle, the Marquess looked away. “You may recall that I was courting a young lady last Season.”
Nicholas nodded. “I returned to my estate before anything more had happened. I presumed, because there was no wedding invitation, that nothing had come of it.”
Hearing this, Lord Bothwell dropped his chin to his chest, let out a prolonged sigh, and then closed his eyes.
“But I think I must be mistaken in that,” Nicholas said, slowly, his heart beating a little faster as he realized that there was a heavy weight upon Lord Bothwell’s heart. “I am sorry to see you so despondent. Did she have no desire to consider you, then?”
Lord Bothwell opened his eyes. “I proposed to her and she accepted me.”
This did not make any particular sense to Nicholas, though he quickly exclaimed his congratulations, but Lord Bothwell did not smile.
“I proposed last year,” the Marquess told him, with Nicholas’ smile quickly fading. “We are not yet wed, though none in thetonknow of our engagement, you understand. You must not speak of it.”
“I shall not, of course,” Nicholas said, slowly, trying to make sense of all that had been revealed, “though I do not think I could explain to anyone what the situation is even if they shouldquestion me! How can you still be engaged so long a time after proposing?”
