Page 7 of The Widow's Scandalous Gentleman
“Sister, I trust you have received my correspondence regarding the urgent necessity of my visit, for I find myself compelled to address certain disturbing reports that have reached my attention concerning the nature of your establishment and the rather questionable arrangements you have seen fit to implement in this remote corner of Brighton.”
Marcus Berrington descended from his carriage with the sort of ponderous dignity that he clearly believed befitted the Earl of Berendon, his pale eyes already scanning the facade of Seacliff Retreat with disapproval as he adjusted his perfectly tied cravat and smoothed the wrinkles from his travelling coat. His soft, rounded features—so unlike Thalia’s sharply defined countenance—were set in an expression of long-suffering patience, as though this journey were a grave burden undertaken for the sole purpose of preserving the family’s honour.
“Marcus,” Thalia said, her voice composed, her courtesy so coolly precise it verged on chill, “how very thoughtful of you to undertake such a journey solely to satisfy your curiosity about my domestic arrangements. I confess I am surprised that matters of such apparent triviality could demand your personal intervention—particularly when I imagine your own estate must provide ample occupation for your many administrative gifts.”
Her brother’s eyes narrowed at the implied criticism, though he maintained the condescending smile that had irritated her since childhood as he mounted the steps to the front entrance with measured tread.
“Triviality? My dear sister, I fear you fail to appreciate the gravity of the situation that has prompted my presence here, for the reports reaching London regarding your so-called retreat have become increasingly alarming in their implications.”
“Reports from whom, might I inquire?” Thalia’s voice carried the sort of deceptive calm that had once made seasoned diplomats reconsider their carefully prepared strategies, though she suspected her brother’s obtuseness would render such subtlety entirely wasted upon his limited understanding.
“From sources whose reliability and social standing make their concerns impossible to dismiss as mere gossip or speculation,” Marcus replied with the pompous authority that he had cultivated since inheriting his position as heir, hisgaze moving dismissively over the carefully maintained entrance hall before settling upon Lord Jasper with obvious suspicion and displeasure.
“I see,” Thalia murmured, though privately she wondered which of Brighton’s more conservative residents had taken it upon themselves to correspond with her brother regarding her activities, and what particular aspects of her establishment had prompted such concerned attention from distant observers.
“And who, might I ask, is this gentleman?” Marcus demanded, his tone suggesting that he found Lord Jasper’s presence both unexpected and highly inappropriate given the circumstances that had prompted his own visit to address his sister’s questionable judgment.
“Lord Jasper Vexley,” Thalia replied with careful emphasis upon his title and family name, “who has been kind enough to express interest in the artistic endeavours being pursued by my residents, and who has spent the morning observing the excellent work being produced under our roof.”
At the name, Marcus’s expression shifted—barely perceptible, but telling. The reflexive disapproval softened, recalibrated by the subtle arithmetic of social consequence. The Vexley name, after all, carried more weight than Marcus could comfortably dismiss.
“Lord Jasper,” he said, executing a bow that balanced respect with measured wariness, “I admit I am somewhat surprised to encounter a gentleman of your standing in such surroundings. Though I daresay even the most unconventional households may, on occasion, attract the attentions of those whose curiosity surpasses their caution.”
“Lord Berendon,” Lord Jasper replied with the sort of polite acknowledgement that revealed nothing of his own assessment of the man before him, though Thalia caught the slight tightening around his eyes that suggested he found her brother’s manner less than impressive. “I trust your journey from London proceeded without incident, and I hope you will forgive my presence during what I am certain must be a private family discussion of considerable importance.”
“Indeed it is,” Marcus replied with satisfaction at having his importance so readily acknowledged, “though perhaps your observations regarding my sister’s establishment might prove enlightening, for I confess myself eager to hear an objective assessment from someone whose social position lends credibility to his opinions on matters of propriety and moral conduct.”
Thalia felt her heart sink at the realisation that her brother intended to use Lord Jasper’s presence as an opportunity to gather ammunition for whatever campaign he had planned to dismantle her carefully constructed independence, though she could hardly object to such a strategy without appearing to doubt either her guest’s integrity or the merits of her own enterprise.
“Perhaps we might continue this conversation in the drawing room,” she suggested with the sort of gracious hospitality that masked her unease, “where we may be more comfortable while addressing whatever concerns have prompted your visit, Marcus.”
“An excellent suggestion,” her brother agreed with the sort of hearty enthusiasm that she had learned to distrust as a precursor to particularly unpalatable pronouncements, “for I have several matters of considerable urgency to discuss with you, and I believe Lord Jasper’s presence may prove most instructive in helping you understand the broader implications of your current… circumstances.”
As they made their way to the elegantly appointed drawing room, Thalia found herself wondering what particular accusations her brother had prepared, and whether Lord Jasper’s morning observations would provide sufficient evidence to counter whatever criticisms Marcus intended to level against her establishment and its residents.
“Now then,” Marcus began the moment they were seated, his voice carrying the sort of ominous satisfaction that suggested he relished the opportunity to deliver unwelcome news, “I suppose you are curious about the specific nature of the reports that have reached my attention regarding your activities here in Brighton.”
“I confess to some mild interest,” Thalia replied with the sort of studied indifference that she hoped might discourage him from prolonging his obviously rehearsed presentation of her supposed failings and their consequences for family reputation.
“Mild interest?” Marcus laughed with genuine amusement at what he clearly viewed as her inadequate appreciation for the seriousness of her situation. “My dear sister, I fear you will find your interest considerably heightened when you learn that Lord Templeton himself has expressed concerns about the propriety of your household arrangements and their potential impact upon the moral character of the surrounding community.”
“Lord Templeton?” Thalia repeated with carefully controlled surprise, for she had not anticipated that her brother’s interference would involve the participation of peers whose social influence could pose genuine threats to her independence and the continued operation of her retreat.
“Indeed, for his lordship has taken considerable interest in the welfare of Brighton’s more respectable residents, and he has expressed particular concern about the example being set by ladies of independent habits who choose to live in what he terms ‘irregular arrangements’ with individuals whose backgrounds and moral character remain largely unknown to proper society,” Marcus continued with obvious satisfaction at the effect his words were producing upon his sister’s composure.
Lord Jasper shifted slightly in his chair, and Thalia caught the sharp look he directed toward her brother as the implications of this revelation became clear, though he maintained the sort of polite silence that social protocol demanded during family discussions of such a delicate nature.
“I see,” Thalia said carefully, her mind racing through the potential consequences of having attracted the disapproval of someone whose social position and political connections could make her life considerably more difficult if he chose to pursue his concerns through official channels.
“Furthermore,” Marcus continued with the relentless determination of someone who had prepared his case thoroughly and intended to present every piece of evidence that might support his conclusions, “Lord Templeton has graciously proposed a remedy for the unfortunate circumstances your poor judgment has produced—for he is of the view that a lady of your station requires the guidance and protection only marriage to a gentleman of appropriate rank and character can supply.”
“Marriage?” The word escaped Thalia’s lips before she could prevent it, and she felt the colour drain from her face as the full implications of her brother’s announcement settled upon her like a suffocating blanket.
“Indeed, for his lordship has graciously consented to consider an alliance with our family, despite the somewhat irregular circumstances that have characterised your recent behaviour,” Marcus announced with the sort of triumphant satisfaction that suggested he viewed this development as a masterstroke of diplomatic negotiation. “Mr Templeton, his youngest son, is a gentleman of excellent character and considerable fortune, and he has expressed willingness to overlook your current eccentricities in exchange for a suitable dowry and your immediate withdrawal from this inappropriate establishment.”
“Mr Templeton,” Thalia repeated in a voice that sounded hollow even to her own ears, for she remembered the gentleman in question as a dull, pompous individual whose conversation never strayed beyond the subjects of his hunting expeditions and his collection of antique firearms, and whose idea of intellectual discourse involved lengthy monologues on the seasonal management of game preserves.
“A most suitable match,” Marcus declared with obvious satisfaction at what he clearly viewed as a brilliant solution to the problem of his sister’s independence, “for he possesses sufficient fortune to maintain you in appropriate comfort while his steady character will provide the stability and guidance that your recent behaviour suggests you require.”
