Papa took the news of her sham engagement in good spirits, commending her on showing good sense for once. Perhaps he was simply relieved that lasting scandal could be averted. He had been very good about the whole affair, really. Well, except for when he had fired her maid, thinking that poor Sally was somehow to blame. But even there he had relented, eventually agreeing to send Sally two months’ wages for her troubles, along with a fine letter of recommendation. But all in all, he had been far kinder to her than many a father would have been. Some fathers would have beaten their daughters for having ruined their good name, regardless of the daughter’s innocence.
But, as Diana had expected, her mother was confused about the whole arrangement.
“I do not understand,” Mama said. “Are you to be married or are you not?”
“Mama,” Diana began. “It is all perfectly plain. You see—”
“If I may,” Lord Endicott broke in smoothly. “Miss Somerville has agreed that I may tell the world of our engagement. That should squash any unfortunate rumors that may be spreading. Then, come autumn, should she wish to be freed from her promise, I would of course accept her decision.”
“I see,” Mama said, her brow furrowed in thought. “A sort of trial engagement as it were.”
“Precisely,” Lord Endicott said.
Mama nodded, as if the viscount had made everything clear with his words, when Diana had been trying unsuccessfully to explain the very same thing for the past quarter hour.
“And if Diana decides she wishes to marry you after all?” her father asked.
“Don’t talk nonsense,” Diana said firmly.
Lord Endicott looked at her and lifted one eyebrow, as if taken aback by her blunt speech. “If she chooses to go forward with this marriage, then it would be my honor to become her husband.”
Now it was her father’s turn to nod and stroke his chin thoughtfully.
Really it was most infuriating. For years she had been presumed capable to speak for herself. And now this stranger was in her home for barely an hour, and merely because he was a gentleman, her parents listened to him respectfully and deferred to his wishes. Simply because he was a man. This was why she was so opposed to marriage. Mary Wollstonecraft was right. Marriage was a trap for a woman, taking away her rights and subjecting her to the capricious will of her husband. No intelligent female would enter into such an institution unless forced to by the pressures of society.
She had half a mind to call this whole engagement off. But then she remembered Mary. Her sister was as conventional as she was pretty. Mary dreamed longingly of her own London season and the handsome beaus who would court her there. Diana did not understand her sister, but she loved her dearly. If the sham engagement would restore Diana’s reputation and let Mary enjoy her own season, then she would go through with it.
There would be time enough for Diana to live her own life after Mary was safely launched upon society. And once Diana left England upon her adventures, there would be no risk of her younger sisters being tarnished by anything that Diana might choose to do.
“We are fortunate that it is only May, and that the season has several weeks to run,” Lord Endicott was saying. “Once we return to London there will be plenty of time to establish the fact of our engagement.”
“But I do not want to go to London,” Diana said. She knew she sounded like a whining child, but she spoke only the truth. Even before that disastrous night, she had not enjoyed herself in London. The other young ladies had been cruel to her once they learned of her outlandish views. And the gentlemen her mother’s friends introduced her to were inevitably straight-laced and boring, or young men so full of admiration for themselves that they barely noticed that Diana was in the same room with them.
George Wright had been the exception. From the first she had thought him a kindred spirit. A free thinker, who rebelled against the petty tyrannies of polite society, just as she longed to do. His reputation was not the best, but she had put that down to narrow-minded gossip. His attentions had surprised her, and she had flattered herself that he was attracted to her for her mind. And then, of course, he had proven that he was naught but a lecherous rake.
“If we are going to do this, we must do this right,” Lord Endicott said. “A short stay in London should suffice. We will make our appearance at a few public events, and then when the season is over, we will part our ways.”
“For myself, I have no wish to return. And we have already given up the lease on the house,” her father said.
But Lord Endicott had anticipated that objection. “There is no need to trouble yourself,” he said. “I have a house on Chesterfield Hill that should suit your needs. It is a good size, with a half dozen bedrooms and a large drawing room should you wish to entertain. And the staff is excellent.”
She wondered why a viscount would happen to have a house in London that he was not using in the height of the London season when fashionable properties were as scarce as hen’s teeth.
“Is it your mistress’s house?” Diana asked.
“Diana Somerville,” her mother exclaimed, blushing at her daughter’s impertinence.
But Lord Endicott grinned, an expression that made him look years younger. Diana realized that he was actually a handsome man.
“It is mine, actually,” he explained. “But I will move back to the family residence in Grosvenor Square. It is much larger and will be suitable for our engagement ball.”
She felt control of the situation slipping away from her. “I did not agree to a ball,” she said.
“It is expected,” Lord Endicott explained. “And London will not be so bad. There are museums and exhibitions that you may attend. Not to mention that Henry Richman is planning a series of lectures on his experiences in the Amazon.”
“Is he the one that you were telling me of?”
“Mr. Richman led the exhibition, yes. It was his assistant, an unfortunate gentleman named Watkins, who was eaten by the carnivorous fish.”
Diana beamed happily. “I cannot wait,” she said. “I have a thousand questions I want to ask him.”
Lord Endicott rose. “Then, it is settled. I will send the notice to the papers and alert the staff at Chesterfield Hill to expect your arrival,” he said.
Stephen returned to the inn in a thoughtful mood. He still did not understand why he had insisted so strongly that Miss Somerville agree to the pretense of an engagement. And yet, having seen her, he could not imagine simply leaving her, knowing that she would bear the brunt of the scandal that George had caused. She was too good a person to deserve such a fate.
As he entered the room assigned to him, his valet, Josiah, looked up from the stack of freshly laundered cravats that he was pressing.
“Congratulate me, Josiah, I am to be married. I think,” he said.
Josiah looked up at him from under his bushy eyebrows, but did not pause in his ironing. “And what does the young lady say to all this?”
“The young lady has her doubts,” Stephen said. There was no point in keeping secrets from Josiah, who knew him as well as he knew himself. “But she has agreed to announce our engagement, to give the scandal time to die down.”
“And Master George?”
Stephen’s mood darkened at the reminder of his half brother. “My brother’s behavior is not a topic I care to discuss,” he said. “Let us just say that the miserable cur is fortunate that he is far out of my reach, for I am sorely tempted to teach him a lesson he would never forget.”
Indeed, if George were to appear at the door this moment, Stephen would be hard pressed not to thrash his brother to within an inch of his life. Not that such a beating would do anything to curb George’s wildness or restore Miss Somerville’s reputation. But still, there was a primitive part of him that longed for such satisfaction.
“I plan to stay here for another day or two and become better acquainted with my fiancée and her family,” Stephen said. If they had any hope to carry off the pretense of an engagement, then they could not afford to appear as complete strangers. No, instead, this must appear to be a love match. “When the Somervilles return to London, I will go with them.”
“It is a good thing I packed for a week, then,” Josiah observed.
“Yes,” Stephen said. “I need you to ride to London tomorrow. I will give you notices to be sent to the newspapers. And you will go to Grosvenor Square and tell Higgins to open up the viscount’s apartments. I will be taking up residence there for the rest of the season, while the Somervilles stay in the town house.”
Josiah shook his head. “Your stepmother will not like having you in her house.”
Indeed, Stephen and his stepmother, Caroline, had never been fond of each other. Not since he was a young lad of seven and his father was exhorting him to be kind to the lady who was to take the place of his own mother. They had detested each other at sight, and the birth of her own son, George, had only served to cement Caroline’s dislike for her husband’s eldest child. Over the years he had learned to disguise his dislike under a mask of formal politeness. But even his father had recognized the tension, and when Stephen turned twenty, his father had presented him with the house on Chesterfield Hill, enabling him to set up his own residence.
When his father had died two years later, Stephen had briefly contemplated moving into the house in Grosvenor Square, but he had soon decided against that. Caroline’s influence was felt in every room of the house, and it seemed too cruel for him to ask the newly made widow to vacate the house she had loved so well.
Seven years had passed, and Caroline was still firmly entrenched in Grosvenor Square. Indeed, she hardly ever left London, where she played the role of a fashionable widow to the hilt. She ignored Stephen entirely, unless there was something she wanted from him, and then she would send for him, crying pretty tears and begging him to take care of her, painting herself as a poor widow, left helpless by his father’s untimely death.
There had seemed no good reason for him to challenge the status quo, but now his engagement gave him the perfect excuse to assert his rights.
“My stepmother has reigned as Lady Endicott long enough,” Stephen said. “It is time I took control of my inheritance. This will give her time to get used to the idea. After all, when I do marry, she will be forced to give precedence to my bride.”
“She is not going to like it,” Josiah repeated.
“Then she can leave,” Stephen said firmly. “Since she is so attached to her son, she can join him in Brussels.”
Or there was the dower house in Eastbourne which had been left to her outright, not that he expected her to tamely accept such banishment. But even the threat of such should be enough to ensure her compliance should she prove difficult over his presence in what she perceived as her household.
Not to mention what the news of impending marriage would do to her composure. For he had no intention of telling Caroline that the engagement was merely a ploy. Let his stepmother suffer a little, believing that her reign as Lady Endicott was about to end. It would be fitting punishment for her role in this debacle, since she bore her own share of blame for the flaws in George’s character.