An Affair of Hearts

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Penelope was incredibly impressed with Lady St. Vincent’s fortitude. She was certain that if she had been attacked when she was a younger woman, she would have kept to her bed for days. And yet, here was this strong young woman stepping out with her to face down society.

Penelope could only hope that the gossips—well, one in particular—hadn’t yet had a chance to spread her horrid tales. Lady Findlater was renowned for saying the worst about people, and Penelope had had to push past the woman the previous evening to get into Lord Welles’s library. How she had known to be just there at that moment, Penelope would never know.

After Lady St. Vincent had gone home, Penelope and Lady Welles had gone in search of the notorious gossip, but she was nowhere to be found. Now, there was only the desperate hope her tales could be stopped before they got out. Perhaps she and Lady St. Vincent could even give their own version of the events if anyone asked.

Penelope didn’t hold out much hope, however, because they hadn’t even entered Lady Hartfell’s home when they met two other ladies just leaving. They took one look at Lady St. Vincent and turned their heads the other way in a most pronounced and disturbing manner. The cut direct!

Lady St. Vincent paused and watched the women walk away. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” she said quietly.

Penelope gave her a pat on her hand and said, “If you would prefer not to…”

But Lady St. Vincent was made of sterner stuff. She took in a deep breath and gave a shake of her head. “No. We should learn the worst.” She then marched straight up the steps and rapped on the door.

Even the footman raised an eyebrow when Lady St. Vincent handed over her calling card, but he allowed them entrance and escorted them to Lady Hartfell’s drawing room.

All talk came to a cold, dead stop the moment Lady St. Vincent’s name was announced. Everyone turned to stare. There were seven or eight people in total, sitting around a tea tray on gold chintz sofas and chairs.

Lady St. Vincent froze, but Penelope was not going to allow the rudeness of a few people to stop her. She took Lady St. Vincent’s arm and walked farther into the room. “Good afternoon, Lady Hartfell. How lovely it is to see you,” she said, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

The woman paled. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Aldridge. Lady St. Vincent, you have a great deal of nerve showing up here—or, in fact, anywhere today.”

“Thank you so much for your concern, my lady,” Lady St. Vincent said gently. “I thought getting out would make me feel better after my horrible ordeal last evening.”

“Your…” the lady began to say, but then paused.

“Lord Rogan’s attack. I assume that is what you are referring to?” Elizabeth asked gently when the woman couldn’t seem to be able to put her words together.

Lady Hartfell’s eyes widened at Elizabeth’s forthright language but pulled herself together quickly. “I beg your pardon, but it was my understanding that you welcomed Lord Rogan’s attentions. Why, he said that you, yourself, were the one who asked him to meet you in the library.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Penelope snapped.

“He told you that himself?” Lady St. Vincent asked, clearly shocked.

“That’s what Lady Findlater said he told her,” a larger woman Penelope didn’t know said from the sofa.

“He was obviously lying, and Lady Findlater should have known better. She was right there. She saw Lady St. Vincent go into the library where she was accosted by Lord Rogan,” Penelope explained.

“Oh, no, that’s not at all what she said. She said Lady St. Vincent went in and greeted Lord Rogan as if she fully knew he would be there waiting for her,” another much-too-thin woman said from the other sofa.

“It was clearly a preset assignation,” Lady Penderton said, joining in the conversation with a nod.

“But it wasn’t!” Lady St. Vincent argued.

“Lord Rogan tricked her…” Penelope started, but her voice was drowned out.

“Lady St. Vincent, whether it was or not is not actually the main issue. I believe the point is that you have clearly done all you could to attract men to your boudoir. You did so when you first made your debut, and clearly you have returned to London to continue with your depraved conduct,” the skinny, sour-looking woman said in the most forthright manner Penelope had ever heard.

“What you do in private is one thing, but to bring that out into society—” the first woman commented.

“But I have never, not now nor when I made my debut, ever done anything to—” Lady St. Vincent started.

“Maybe she can’t help it. If I had a figure like that, I’m sure I would attract a great deal of men as well,” the pinched woman said with a slight sneer.

“No, Marietta, even if you were built like that, men still wouldn’t treat you that way. It’s not just her figure, it’s the way she smiles at them. It’s inviting. You know better than to behave that way,” said Lady Crowther who was sitting by the skinny one’s side.

Penelope felt Lady St. Vincent shrink beside her. She wrung her hands in frustration. She so wanted to defend her friend, but these women were refusing to listen to anything she or Lady St. Vincent said.

“Ladies before this conversation can go any further, I think we must agree, with apologies to the lady herself, we simply cannot accept such behavior and therefore cannot welcome Lady St. Vincent—” Lady Hartwell began.

“But I haven’t done anything wrong!” Lady St. Vincent said vehemently. “It’s not my fault I’m built the way I am. I dress modestly! I don’t invite—”

“Oh, come now, Lady St. Vincent, clearly you do because men are taking you up on that silent invitation left and right,” the first lady said. “Personally, I cannot stomach such behavior. I recommend a holiday.”

“Yes,” the pinched woman agreed. “If you simply left London—”

“I refuse to leave! It’s not fair. It’s not right!” Lady St. Vincent cried.

“Then prepare yourself for no one, and I mean no one, to invite you anywhere nor acknowledge you in the street. Why, I can hardly believe we have had the nerve to speak with you for so very long this afternoon,” the pinched woman said.

“Indeed. We shall cease this immediately,” the first woman said. She turned to Lady Penderton so that her back was to Penelope and Lady St. Vincent.

“I am very sorry,” Lady Hartwell said.

“No, I don’t believe you are,” Lady St. Vincent said before turning and walking right out the door.

Penelope didn’t think she could add anything to that smart retort, so she simply followed the lady out the door.

“I am so very sorry,” Penelope started as soon as they were back in her carriage.

“No. I shouldn’t have even thought that there wouldn’t be such a reaction. I should have known better.” The young woman swiped angrily at her cheek.

“My dear, I don’t know—” Penelope started to say, but then she stopped herself because she did know precisely what to do.

“You have already done so very much, Mrs. Aldridge. Truly, I could not ask for a better friend,” Lady St. Vincent said, grabbing her hands. “You were there. You and Lydia saved me from that awful man’s clutches, and today you stood by my side as those women said awful, untrue things about me. I don’t know how I can ever thank you.” A tear slid down the girl’s cheek.

“No, no. Do not even think of thanking me yet, for I have not even begun to do all I hope to do. No, you may thank me when your reputation is restored.”

~*~

Elizabeth waved to her dear friend after being dropped off in front of her house, then slowly climbed the three steps to the door. Frank, the footman, already had the door open and was waiting for her.

She just felt so tired.

“Good afternoon, my lady. There was a delivery for you a short time ago. I put it in the drawing room,” he said as he bowed her into the house.

Elizabeth paused as she handed him her wrap. “A delivery? I don’t believe I purchased anything.”

He just lifted a shoulder. “I didn’t ask who it was from. It was delivered by a footman in livery, so I don’t believe it was from a shop.”

With a slight frown, she gave a nod. “Thank you, Frank. I guess I’ll go see what it is. Oh, are my brother and Lord St. Vincent still here?”

“No, my lady, they left together soon after you.”

As Elizabeth climbed the stairs to the drawing room, she wondered if they’d gone to see Bel and Bee Kendrick. She’d meant to ask Paul when and how he was planning on proposing to Bee, but in all the excitement so far, she’d completely forgotten. She felt awful for being so self-absorbed when he had such wonderful happenings in his life at the moment.

A most enormous bouquet of hot-house roses stood on the table in the center of the room. They were beautiful and perfumed the air in the loveliest manner. One of the maids must have seen the flowers and put them into one of her favorite crystal vases.

Elizabeth smiled, thinking they must be from that gentleman who’d seen her into her carriage the previous evening. He was so kind and considerate, she wouldn’t be surprised, and now she would learn his name.

But as she approached the table, she noticed a box just in front of the flowers with a note sitting on top addressed to her. That was odd. He wouldn’t have sent a gift; it was more than enough that he’d sent such a large bouquet. An icy warning tingled across the back of her neck.

Hesitantly, she picked up the note and unfolded it.

My dearest Elizabeth,

I am so distressed that we were interrupted last night. The next time we will have our rendezvous at my home where our privacy will be assured.

I’d love for you to wear this small token of my affection…and nothing else.

The flowers are my way of apologizing for a poor choice of location for our tête-à-tête.

Until then, my sweet, beautiful Elizabeth,

I am humbly yours…etc.

Rogan