Lord Harry by Catherine Coulter

She continued to study him. She was forced to admit, grudgingly, that he was a superb guest who would delight any hostess, for he mingled easily with ladies and gentlemen alike. It occurred to her that his good manners might lead him to even seek her out, and she rose swiftly and slipped into a half-hidden position behind a curtain.

Later in the evening, when Hetty had relaxed her vigilance, she chanced to see him approaching her. Not only were the Fates against her, they were trying to kill her. She quickly turned her shoulder and attempted painstaking conversation with the deaf old dowager next to her. She thought she saw a puzzled frown sweep over his brow at her blatant rudeness. But then, he turned easily, and was soon caught up in Caroline Langley’s gay chatter. Had he wondered who she was? Had his aunt Melberry told him to seek her out? She wondered what he thought.

What the marquess was thinking was that the Rolland girl his aunt had directed him to meet was wearing one of the most unfortunate gowns and caps he’d ever seen. He didn’t know if she was as unfortunate of face as she was of clothing, but it seemed likely. She’d turned away from him. She was either very rude or very myopic. He smiled at something Caroline Langley said, though he hadn’t heard anything.

Hetty turned reluctantly at the sour, whining voice of Miss Maude Langley. “I fear my sister must learn decorum. Isn’t it shocking, Miss Rolland? She has been hanging on Lord Oberlon’s arm all evening. Of course, you must know about him.”

Hetty, who had drawn a fatalistic sigh at Miss Maude’s jealous attack on her sister, now raised her eyes to the young lady’s face, all attention. “No, Miss Langley, I fear I don’t know about Lord Oberlon, save that he is Lady Melberry’s nephew and the Marquess of Oberlon. He appears to be charming to all of Lady Melberry’s guests.”

Miss Maude arched a thick brow, darted her eyes once again in Lord Oberlon’s direction. “Oh la, Miss Rolland, you are new to London. Our mama wouldn’t approve my saying so, but you must know he is a rake. But then, from all that I have heard, I suppose a gentleman who is a rake is perforce charming.”

“But why is he a rake, Miss Langley?”

Miss Langley lowered her voice even more and cupped her gloved hand over her mouth. “Listen to this, Miss Rolland. His poor wife died but eight or nine months ago, in childbirth. He left England immediately, scarce after her funeral, and traveled to Italy. His exploits with the Italian ladies were all the talk of London. Indeed, I have seen him with a new mistress; he flaunts her all about London in the most high-handed way. Haven’t you seen them, Miss Rolland?”

“Only from a distance, Miss Langley.” Elizabeth had died in childbirth? Surely Miss Langley must be mistaken, for had Elizabeth not married Lord Oberlon only seven months before her death? Hetty said, “Who was Lord Oberlon’s wife, Miss Langley? How sad that the poor lady died so quickly after their marriage.”

“Elizabeth Springville was her name. She and I were both in our first season last year. She was loose, Miss Rolland, and a flirt. I suppose that she was pretty enough, but I can’t excuse her easiness with the gentlemen, no lady could. Lord Oberlon was only one of several gentlemen dangling after her. When he suddenly married her by special license, and then removed her immediately from London to one of his estates in the West Country, there was much speculation. I will tell you, Miss Rolland, that I don’t need to speculate. My mama is Lady Melberry’s best friend, and she is, of course, Lord Oberlon’s aunt well, I know for a fact, that Elizabeth was in the family way. She was pregnant with Lord Oberlon’s child.”

Hetty said, “Then it would appear to me, dear Miss Langley, that Lord Oberlon behaved in a most honorable way. Surely a rake wouldn’t have married the lady.”

Miss Maude looked pityingly at Hetty. Hetty wanted to smack her. “You didn’t let me finish, Miss Rolland. It was rumored that after he took his bride to the West Country, he left her and returned to his old ways. Shocking, is it not? I only pray that my own sister won’t fall into the same dire predicament that led poor Elizabeth to her death.”

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