The Marquess of Howland had come up to London on business. But he had also come up because he and his wife were worried about his younger daughter. Although her marriage had disappointed them, it had started off well, and he and the marchioness, after seeing their daughter’s happiness, decided perhaps they had been wrong to push Giles Whitton. Justin Rainsborough seemed an excellent husband.
They had been concerned by her appearance last spring, but knew that recovery from a miscarriage could take time. The couple had visited them once and had seemed very happy together. But they had also been expected for the Christmas holidays and had canceled at the last minute in a note from Rainsborough, citing Clare’s need to recover from the Little Season and their desire to celebrate the holidays at home.
Clare had never been sickly as a child, and her mother wondered whether she had suffered another miscarriage. “Or perhaps she is increasing again,” she told her husband, “and doesn’t want to raise our hopes until she is farther along.”
But here it was April, and the gossip that had reached them about Clare’s appearance indicated she was still in poor health.
After his failed visit to his daughter, the marquess decided it was time to visit the Whittons and see if Clare had confided anything to her old friends.
“The Marquess of Howland, my lord. He is calling for Lady Sabrina, and when I told him she was out, he asked for you.”
Giles looked up from his translation in surprise. Since the Dysarts were old friends of the family, naturally they had seen each other over the past two years. But since the wedding, it had not been often, and Clare’s father had never called on Sabrina before.
“Show him in, Henley, and bring us some tea.”
“Yes, my lord.”
When the door opened to admit the marquess, Giles was surprised to see how he had aged. It was always easy to forget how much older Clare’s parents were than his.
“Please sit down, sir.”
“Thank you, Giles.”
“Would you like some tea? Or perhaps sherry?”
“Tea will be fine, Giles. It is too early for spirits. At least for me. But you go ahead, if you wish.”
“I never drink during the day,” Giles answered with a smile as the butler handed the marquess his tea. “That will be all, Henley,” said Giles, dismissing him.
“You must be wondering why I have come.”
Giles smiled. “I confess to some curiosity. You were looking for Sabrina first, I understand.”
“Yes. I was hoping that she might help me sort out my concerns about Clare.” The marquess hesitated. “It seemed more appropriate to start with Clare’s friend. Of course, you were also friends, but ...”
“But I am also a rejected suitor. Don’t worry, I understand, Howland. I don’t think either of us can tell you very much, however. Sabrina has not heard from Clare very often these past two years.”
“Wasn’t she to visit Devon last summer?”
“It never came off. Clare wrote a note saying she wished to postpone the visit, for she was feeling indisposed.”
“I called on my daughter the beginning of this week and was told the same thing. Do you think Clare is seriously ill, and they are both keeping it from us, Giles?”
“To tell you the truth, Howland, I don’t know what to think. Clare never seemed to recover the weight she lost after losing the baby. I had even wondered if she had lost another?”
“If so, her mother and I have not been told. But there is the source of our worry: we have been told so little. There she is, in Devon, and we only get occasional short notes telling us how happy she is. And then we see her or hear from the gossips how unwell she looks. Rainsborough is a very solicitous husband, however, so it seems she is lucky there,” he added, and then realizing to whom he was speaking, apologized immediately.
“It is water under the bridge, Howland,” Giles reassured him. “Rainsborough is very protective of Clare, and I have been hesitant to approach her too often. And she has made no effort to keep up her friendship with either me or Sabrina, although Sabrina has never quite given up on her.”
“I see. Perhaps it is just as well Sabrina wasn’t here, then. I shouldn’t have bothered either of you,” said the marquess, getting up from the sofa.
“Of course you should have,” replied Giles. “Perhaps we have held back too much when we shouldn’t have. Would you feel better if I sought Clare out and tried to determine whether your worries are groundless?”
The marquess turned toward Giles, his face brightening. “Would you, my boy? Her mother and I ... we never had the same closeness with Clare as with our older children. She came so late, you see. And her visits to Whitton were so important to her. I have always been sorry ...”
“So have I, Howland. But it has been two years, and I have moved on.”
“So I hear,” said the older man with a smile. “Lucy Kirkman has been after you for years, you know,” the marquess replied, happy to tease Giles and lighten the conversation.
“You sound just like my sister! Don’t worry, though. I am not the sort to let a woman catch me unless I want her to!”
* * * *
Giles knew that Rainsborough usually visited his club every afternoon, and decided to call on Clare when her husband was out. He was admitted by the Rainsboroughs’ butler the next afternoon and shown into the drawing room.
“I will send up your card, my lord, and see if Lady Rainsborough is able to see you.”
“Thank you.”
When the butler returned, however, he offered Giles an apology and explained that Lady Rainsborough was resting. “She has been unwell these past few days and needs her rest before attending Lady Petersham’s gala tonight.”
Giles frowned. He very much wanted to see Clare alone in her own home, for he felt that was the only way he would get her to open up to him. But he was hardly in a position to insist, so he took the butler’s message with good grace and bade him tell his mistress that he hoped for a waltz that evening.
“I will tell her, my lord,” said Peters as he showed Giles out.
Unfortunately, Rainsborough was just coming up the street as Giles was leaving.
“Good afternoon, Whitton,” he said coldly.
“Good afternoon,” said Giles , bowing politely and continuing on his way. With anyone else he would have stayed and chatted and admitted the reason for his visit, but for some reason, Rainsborough’s coldness set up his back.
Justin questioned his butler as soon as the door opened.
“Was Lord Whitton here visiting Lady Rainsborough, Peters?”
“Yes, my lord. He called on my mistress, but she told me to tell him she was resting.”
Justin’s face lightened. “Good. If we are going out tonight, she needs her rest,” he said solicitously.
“Yes, my lord.” Peters’s face may have remained blank as a good butler’s should, but the conversation in his head with Rainsborough would hardly have amused his employer. There he goes again, the kindest husband you would ever want to meet, making sure my lady gets her rest. Making sure no one can see how he treats her!
Most of the household was of course aware of the situation between their master and mistress. Most of them didn’t like Lord Rainsborough. But he had chosen his servants well: men and women who were older or had received a less than glowing reference from their previous employers. None of them was in any position to protest his treatment of Lady Rainsborough. And, after all, they would say to themselves, what a man does with his wife in the privacy of his home is his business, no matter what a rough business it was.
Justin entered Clare’s room without knocking. She was sitting by her window reading, and she started when she heard him come in.
“Justin! I didn’t expect you back from your club so early.”
“Apparently not, since Whitton was here, calling on you.”
Clare tried to gauge her husband’s mood. She could not smell any liquor on his breath as he came closer, and that was a relief. He sounded angry, but not out of control, thank goodness.
“I was quite surprised when Peters sent up Giles’s card,” she answered matter-of-factly. “I told him to tell Giles I was resting.”
Justin passed his hand over his forehead, and his expression cleared. “I know, Peters told me, Clare, but the thought of you meeting with Whitton privately ...”
“Which I have never done, Justin,” she quietly reassured him.
“I know, I know. Well, I should leave you to get your rest,” he said, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.
“Justin? Did you have a chance to schedule an appointment with Dr. Shipton?” Clare asked hesitantly.
“Dr. Shipton? No, not yet, Clare. In fact, I am not even sure I really need to see him after all. I have had no trouble refraining from spirits these last few days.”
“I am glad to hear that, Justin, but I would be very happy if you consulted with him anyway.”
Her husband waved his hand at her and said impatiently: “I’ll think about it, Clare, but don’t put any pressure on me. I am competent to judge my own state of mind.”
After he left, Clare sat there for a while, her book forgotten in her lap. Why had Giles come calling on her? She had had to turn him away, of course. And thank God, she had, for who knew what would have happened with Justin coming home early.
Perhaps Sabrina needed her? But then wouldn’t Sabrina have called? Giles had been spending so much of his time with Lucy Kirkman. Perhaps he wanted to tell her of his betrothal before announcing it publicly. Or perhaps he wanted to know why she was avoiding her old friends. That was the most likely reason, she supposed, and therefore she was glad to be able to send him away, for she could hardly give him the real reason.
She felt the knot of fear that was her constant companion tighten in her stomach. It had relaxed a little these past few days because of Justin’s decision to seek out medical help. She had allowed hope to revive. Hope that at last the nightmare her marriage had become would be over and the Justin she fell in love with would return to her. Well, Justin had not said he wouldn’t go, she reassured herself. He just didn’t want to be badgered about it. She would not mention Dr. Shipton for a while. And she would continue to be hopeful.
* * * *
The Rainsboroughs had become so erratic in their attendance at social functions that Clare’s card was rarely full. Giles made sure he made his way over to where she stood with a group of acquaintances early that evening and confirmed his waltz. There was no way for Clare to refuse him, and she tried to tell herself that all would be well. Justin was not drinking, and she had reassured him just this afternoon.
She did her best to keep away from the Whittons, but one could hardly turn down an old friend in public. So she just smiled and let Giles write his name on her card. She looked around for her husband, hoping she could catch him and explain, but he was deep in conversation on the other side of the room. And by the time she had danced a few sets and looked for him again, she was dismayed to see him accepting a glass of champagne. But one glass never set him off, she reassured herself, and when she saw him making his way into the card room, she was relieved. He wasn’t hovering over her tonight as much as usual, and if he stayed at the whist table long enough, she would have already finished her waltz with Giles.
When Giles came to claim her hand, she gave him a nervous smile and let him lead her out.
When Giles put his hand around Clare’s waist, he was appalled at how he could feel every rib through her gown. For a moment, a terrible fear seized him: perhaps she was seriously ill. But when he looked down, he saw a pale face, not the hectic flush that accompanied consumption, and so he made himself relax and pay attention to the music.
After the music stopped, he kept Clare’s arm through his, and leaning down, asked if he could have a few minutes alone. Clare’s eyes darted desperately around, but Justin was nowhere in sight, and so she nodded her agreement. Clearly Giles was going to persist, no matter what, so she might as well get it over with.
There were a few small rooms off each side of the ballroom, and Giles walked Clare over to one and let the door close behind them.
He sat Clare down on a small sofa, but remained standing. She glanced nervously at the door, and her fingers began pleating the skirt of her gown.
“Giles, did you have something particular you wanted to say to me?” Her voice was tight with tension.
“You are not afraid to be alone with me, are you, Clare?” Giles asked, appalled at how far from the ease of their old friendship they were.
“No, Giles, of course not. I just don’t want any gossip to start up.” She could hardly tell him it was her husband she feared. Why didn’t he get on with it, so she could be back in the ballroom before Justin noticed her absence?
“Sabrina and I have been worried about you, Clare. I know that time changes things, even old friendships, and perhaps it is only that your marriage takes up most of your attention. But you have not looked well this past year, and Sabrina has found it difficult to find enough time with you to ask why.”
Clare attempted a casual, almost dismissive tone. “I am of course grateful for your concern, Giles. I must confess that my marriage to Justin has been unfashionably time-consuming, and perhaps I have neglected my other relationships. I assure you, though, that I am quite well.”
“Your father and mother do not think so.”
Clare looked startled. “My parents?”
“Your father called on me the other day to ask me if Sabrina and I knew if you had perhaps had ... another ...”
“No, Giles, I have not lost another baby,” Clare answered quietly. “I am sorry my father dragged you into what is essentially a private matter.”
“Your parents are worried about you, Clare. As are your old friends,” he added.
“Their concern is touching, but a few years too late,” she answered bitterly. “You may assure my father that I am quite well and very happy, Giles. And now we had best be getting back.”
Giles felt utterly frustrated. He had done his best, but Clare was clearly unwilling to open her heart to him or to anyone. He offered her his hand as she got up, and brought her back to a small group of mutual acquaintances where he stayed and chatted for a few minutes before excusing himself to seek out his next dance partner. Neither of them noticed Rainsborough, who had been standing in the doorway of the card room and seen them emerge.
* * * *
Clare felt her husband’s hot breath and smelled the brandy fumes as he leaned over her from behind.
“I think I will get you home early tonight, my dear. You don’t want to tire yourself.” His hand gripped her arm like a vise, but she kept her face empty even though she could feel the pain of old bruises.
“We ladies are always envious of your wife, Lord Rainsborough,” commented one of the group surrounding Clare. “She is very fortunate to have such an attentive and observant spouse. I hope she appreciates you as much as you deserve,” Lady Brett teased.
Rainsborough smiled his most charming smile as Clare made her excuses to their hostess, but said nothing to his wife as he led her to the door and hailed their carriage. He took Clare’s cloak from the footman and draped it over her shoulders himself. When his hands brushed her throat, she shuddered. He must have been drinking the whole time he was in the card room, she thought. Had he seen her come out of the anteroom with Giles? Oh, God, she hoped not. But what other reason did he have to rush her off so early in the evening?