The Regency Season: Ruined Reputations: The Rake's Ruined Lady / Tarnished, Tempted and Tamed

‘You don’t ask about Beatrice any more.’ Alex began adjusting his cravat in the mantel glass now Hugh had left the space free.

‘Does she ask about me?’ Hugh countered, picking up his jacket and pegging it on a finger over a muscular shoulder. He preceded his friend towards the door.

They were heading towards the top of the stairs before Alex answered. ‘You can’t blame Beatrice for wanting to forget all about you after the way you behaved.’

Hugh’s mouth tilted sardonically. ‘Indeed...so it seems a bit pointless asking about her, doesn’t it?’ He plunged his hands into his pockets. ‘A lot of water has passed under the bridge since then...’

‘And for you...most of it flowed in India...’ Alex remarked dryly.

‘So it did...’ Hugh said in a similar vein. ‘I hope everything goes well on the big day.’

He moved ahead of Alex, descending the stairs at quite a speed.

On reaching the cool marble vestibule of Hugh’s grand town house the friends waited for the butler to announce that the curricle had been brought round. A moment later they clattered down the stone steps, then stopped to exchange a few words before going their separate ways.

‘Come along to Epsom with us if you’re kicking your heels. You might back a few winners and cheer yourself up by raising your bank balance.’ Hugh was speaking ironically; he knew very well that his friend’s accounts were in no need of a boost. It was his spirits that were flagging.

The startling change in his own fortunes still gave Hugh cause to smile inwardly. Just two years ago he’d had reason to watch carefully every penny he spent. Now he could purchase a stable of prized Arabs and watch them race at Epsom—or anywhere else—if that was his whim. Yet Hugh realised that his enthusiasm for a day out with his favourite mistress was waning and he felt oddly deflated.

‘You expect me to play gooseberry to you and the lovely Gwen?’ Alex scowled. ‘I don’t think I will, but thanks for asking.’ He clapped a hand on Hugh’s shoulder. ‘See you in White’s later in the week, I expect.’

‘It’s a bit late to let Gwen down with an excuse.’ Hugh sounded irritated by his conscience.

‘Quite right...keep the lady happy,’ Alex mocked.

Gwen Sharpe was a celebrated Cyprian known to select as lovers affluent gentlemen who could provide her with the finer things in life. Hugh certainly fitted the bill, following a bizarre stroke of luck that had made him one of the wealthiest men in the country.

‘I’ll be back before ten tonight. Do you fancy a visit to the Palm House to cure your boredom?’ Hugh called over a shoulder as he approached the kerb to take the curricle’s reins from his tiger.

Alex snorted a laugh. ‘I’m a married man...are you trying to get me hung?’

Hugh shook his head in mock disgust. ‘You’re under the thumb...that’s what you are.’

‘And I’ll willingly remain there...’ Alex returned, grinning.

The Palm House was a notorious den of iniquity where gambling and whoring went hand in hand. Men of all classes—from criminals to aristocracy—could be found mingling in its smoky environment from midnight till gone daybreak. At early light the club would spew forth its clientele, the majority of whom would stagger off with sore heads and empty purses.

Hugh set the greys to a trot, wishing he could shake off the feeling that he’d sooner return home than go to Epsom with Gwen. His mistress was beautiful and beguiling, if gratingly possessive at times. Any man would want to spend time with her... And yet Hugh, for a reason that escaped him, wanted solitude to reflect on a romance that had long been dead and buried. The woman he’d loved three years ago was now about to become another man’s bride, so what purpose would be served by brooding on what might have been?

With a curse exploding through his gritted teeth Hugh set the horses to a faster pace, exasperated by his maudlin thoughts and the fact that his friend had chosen this morning to remind him that his sister-in-law’s marriage was imminent. Beatrice Dewey was firmly in his past, and Gwen and Sophia, the courtesans he kept in high style, would serve very well for the present. If in need of deeper emotion he could head out to India and spend some time with somebody he’d grown to love...

* * *

‘What do you want?’

‘That’s a nice greeting, I must say.’

‘Are we to pretend I’m pleased to see you?’ Hugh folded the newspaper he’d been reading whilst breakfasting and skimmed it over the crisp damask tablecloth. He lounged into a mahogany chair-back, crossing his arms over the ruffles on his shirt. Sardonically, he surveyed his older brother.

Uninvited, Sir Toby Kendrick pulled out the chair opposite Hugh, seating himself with a flourish of coat-tails. He then stared obstinately at a footman until the fellow darted forward.

‘Coffee—and fill a plate with whatever is over there.’ Toby flicked a finger at the domed silver platters lining the sideboard whilst giving his order. He turned sly eyes on his brother, daring Hugh to object.

The servant withdrew with a jerky bow, a fleeting glance flying at his master from beneath his powdered wig. Hugh gave an imperceptible nod, sanctioning his brother’s boorish demand to be fed.

All of the servants knew—in common with the ton—that Hugh Kendrick and his older brother did not get on.

Sir Toby’s dislike of his younger brother had increased since Hugh’s wealth and standing had eclipsed his own. Toby had relished what he deemed to be his rightful place as loftiest Kendrick. Now he’d been toppled, and in such a teeth-grindingly, shocking stroke of luck for his brother that Toby had been apoplectic when first hearing about it. Knowing that he wasn’t alone in being bitter was no consolation to Toby. His brother was popular, and more people had been pleased than jealous of Hugh’s success.

Their mother and their sister had been overjoyed—no doubt because they’d both benefited from Hugh’s generosity. Toby had received nothing from Hugh other than a bottle of champagne with which to toast his luck. In the event Toby had refrained from smashing the magnum to smithereens on the step and downed the prime vintage at record speed, drowning his sorrows.

‘No broiled kidneys?’ Toby used a silver fork to push the food about on the plate that had just been set before him.

‘I don’t like kidneys,’ Hugh replied. He sat forward in his chair. ‘Neither do I like being disturbed by visitors at his ungodly hour of the day.’ He got to his feet. ‘Are you going to tell me what you want? Or have you just turned up for a free breakfast and the opportunity to try my patience?’

Toby shoved away the plate of untasted splendid food, a curl to his lip. ‘All that cash and you can’t find yourself a decent cook?’ he chortled.

‘As you’ve no appetite, and nothing of moment to say, it’s time you went on your way.’ He addressed the footman. ‘My brother is leaving. Show him out.’ Turning his back on Toby he strolled to the huge windows that overlooked Grosvenor Square, idly surveying the busy street scene.

The servant attempted to conceal his satisfied smirk on springing forward to do his master’s bidding.

‘You’re getting a bit too high and mighty, aren’t you?’ Toby barked, his cheeks florid.

‘Perhaps I spent too long studying you when growing up,’ Hugh drawled over a shoulder.

Toby whacked away the footman’s ushering arm, stomping closer to Hugh. ‘Very well...I have something to discuss,’ he snarled in an undertone.

‘Go ahead; but be brief. I have an appointment with my tailor.’

‘Might we repair to your library and be private?’ Toby suggested sarcastically.

Hugh glanced back at the servants clearing the breakfast things. He sighed. ‘If we must...’ He strode for the door without another word and once in the corridor approached the library at the same exasperated speed.

Toby trudged behind, his footsteps muffled by the luxurious carpet. Inwardly he squirmed at having to come here, cap in hand, and beg his brother for a loan. Not so long ago he had been the one the others in the family came to when in need of cash. It had given Toby immense pleasure to make them dance to his tune for their coins; even his mother had had to humble herself to extract her allowance from him. But now she had no need to because Hugh had provided her with a generous pension—something her dear late husband had omitted to do.

Sir Kenneth Kendrick had relied on his son and heir to provide fairly for his successors, proving that he might have doted on Toby but he had never come to know his eldest son’s true nature.

‘I need two hundred pounds urgently,’ Toby blurted as soon as the door was closed behind him.

‘Is that a request for a loan?’

‘You know damn well it is,’ Toby spat. He swiped a hand about his mouth, aware he’d need to control his temper if he was to get the cash and keep the duns at bay. Hugh might be open-handed where his mother and sister were concerned, but his generosity to Toby was a different matter.

Hugh leaned on the library table that almost spanned from one end of the oak-panelled room to the other. He drummed his long fingers in slow rhythm on the leather-topped furniture. ‘I’ve already handed over a thousand pounds in less than six months.’ Hugh watched his brother’s lips whiten in anger at that reminder.

‘I didn’t realise you were keeping a tally of the paltry sums.’ Toby flung himself down in a chair, affecting ennui.

‘As I recall, one thousand pounds wasn’t a paltry amount when I came to you many years ago and begged for your help in securing Sarah’s future.’

Then Toby’s meanness had run so deep that he’d denied his only sister the cash she desperately needed after she’d been compromised during her debut. With their father gone it had fallen to Hugh, impecunious at that time, to rescue Sarah’s reputation. He’d managed to scrape together a dowry—the majority of the cash borrowed from Alex Blackthorne—thus tempting a decent chap, lacking prospects, to put a ring on his disgraced sister’s finger.

Inwardly Toby railed at himself; he’d laid himself wide open to that barb. ‘The little madam deserved to be taught a lesson for acting like a strumpet.’

‘Our sister did nothing wrong other than to trust one of your friends to act as a gentleman. She was seventeen and not worldly-wise,’ Hugh coldly reminded him.

Toby snorted derision. ‘Well, she was worldly-wise after her folly...so a lesson well learned about promenading after dark with randy men. You—and she—should thank me rather than criticising.’

Hugh moved his head in disgust. ‘I wonder sometimes if we are related. You really are the most obnoxious character.’

‘Are you questioning our dear mama’s virtue?’ Toby guffawed. ‘She’ll not thank you for hearing that repeated. Perhaps I might tell her.’

He eyed his sibling calculatingly, feeling confident that Hugh would relent rather than risk upsetting their widowed mother. The dowager was approaching sixty-five and would be distraught to know her elder son risked a spell in the Fleet because his debts were out of control.

‘I’ve had enough of you...take yourself off...’ Hugh snapped in exasperation, turning for the door.

‘What’s wrong? No money left? Sent too much out to India, have you? Toby’s voice was low and sly and he concealed a smirk at the look of intense hatred he’d brought to his brother’s face.

‘I’ll arrange for a bank draft later in the day,’ Hugh said, just before quitting the room. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I need to be elsewhere...’

Toby strutted after him, looking exceedingly pleased with himself.

‘If you come again demanding me to bail you out of gambling debts you’ll be wasting your time. I won’t care what you say...’

‘Won’t you, now...?’ Toby drawled provocatively. ‘Gambling debts?’ He smoothly changed the subject. ‘It’s nothing so vulgar, my dear fellow. Serena has expensive tastes in jewellery, if you must have the details...’

Toby wasn’t referring to his prospective fiancée’s taste but to that of his mistress. Hugh knew his brother had set up Serena Worthing in a smart apartment, and even with a marriage contract under discussion it seemed Toby had no intention of putting her off to concentrate on his future wife.

‘Well, whatever it is...whoring, drinking, gambling...you’ll pay for it yourself in future.’

‘If ever our positions return to what they were...what they should be...I’ll remember this conversation and all those others where you’ve had the damnable cheek to moralise.’ Toby pointed a stout finger at his brother. ‘Before you got rich and Blackthorne got married the two of you were constant petticoat-chasers. Blackthorne might have eased off now, but you’re worse than ever since you got back from India.’ Toby thrust his face close to Hugh’s jaw. ‘Tell me...what it is about an exotic beauty that fires a man’s blood so...?’

‘You sound jealous of my popularity with the ladies.’ Hugh shoved his brother away and strode on along the corridor. ‘Show yourself out.’

Chapter Three

‘I’m sorry Papa worried you enough to bring you racing to Hertfordshire yesterday. I had no idea he’d summoned you home just because the wedding is off.’ Beatrice bounced her baby nephew on her knee. ‘Of course it is wonderful to have you visit, Elise, and this little chap has grown so big since I last saw him.’

Elise had been pouring tea into bone china, but on hearing the quaver in her sister’s voice she put down the pot and crouched down by the side of Bea’s armchair. ‘You don’t need to be brave with me, my dear. I know how dreadfully hurt you are.’ She pressed Bea’s fingers in comfort.

Beatrice avoided Elise’s astute gaze, blinking rapidly at the window to one side of her. ‘It is all right...really it is...it has been nearly a week now since...’ She tried to name the person who’d caused her heartbreak but found his name stuck to her tongue.

As her nephew gurgled, giving her a gummy smile, Bea fondled his soft pink cheek with a forefinger.

‘Another few days and I will be right as rain—won’t I, Master Adam?’

‘Well, I know I would not be, if it were me who’d been so cruelly jilted,’ Elise announced pithily. She shook her head in disbelief. ‘I’d never have imagined Dr Burnett to be a callous or a fickle fellow.’

‘I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who mistook his character.’ Beatrice sighed. ‘I can’t forgive him for abandoning me in favour of family duty, yet since I’ve had time to calm down I understand why he did so.’

‘Then I think you exceedingly over-obliging!’ Elise exclaimed. ‘Love should override all else in my book.’

‘In a perfect world...perhaps...’ Beatrice returned philosophically. ‘I think matrimony and Beatrice Dewey are destined to remain strangers.’

‘Never say so! There is a husband for you...he just has not shown himself yet.’ Elise attempted to draw her sister from her glums with a provocative comment. ‘As I recall, there was nobody more determined to be a wife and mother than you.’

Beatrice chuckled wryly at that reminder. Indeed, there had been a time when she’d driven her poor sister to distraction, so keen had she been to settle down with a nice fellow and raise a little family of her own. After several false starts she’d met Colin and finally thought her ambition was within her grasp. Now, for some reason, she felt tired of struggling towards that particular dream...

‘You girls are up early.’ Walter Dewey entered the sunny front parlour, supported by his stick. He gave his daughters an affectionate smile, thinking it nice to have them both together again at home, and with the added bonus of his handsome little grandson.

In Walter’s opinion the child was a perfect blend of his parents: he had the viscount’s brown eyes and sturdy build and his mother’s sharp chin and fair hair.

‘Did you sleep well?’ he asked Elise. ‘I heard young Adam having a grizzle just before dawn broke.’

‘He was wet so I changed his nappy,’ Viscountess Blackthorne said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world to tend to her baby herself rather than give Adam to his nurse.

Following their parents’ acrimonious divorce, Elise and Bea had been reared by their papa in straitened circumstances, so were accustomed to being useful and practical in mundane matters. Both young women were quite happy to dress themselves and knew how to cook and clean. When younger, the sisters had taken to painting their bedrooms and made a capable job of it, much to their papa’s surprise and delight.

‘Don’t look at me like that, miss,’ Walter mildly reproved, having caught Beatrice frowning at him. ‘I know you believe I’m at fault because your sister has better things to do than commiserate with us that you’ve been put back on the shelf—’

‘I certainly do not!’ Elise cut across her father. ‘There’s nothing more important to me than being here with you, although the reason for it is upsetting.’ She gave her sister’s cheek an affectionate stroke. ‘Bea is certainly not on the shelf, Papa! How can she be when she is so pretty and looks not a day over eighteen...?’

‘Oh...Elise!’ Beatrice choked. ‘A very nice compliment but it really is too much.’

‘Perhaps I exaggerated just a little. You could pass easily for twenty-one and that is certainly not over-egging it.’ Elise cocked her head to assess her sister’s countenance. Beatrice was still one of the loveliest young women of her acquaintance, and in the haut monde Viscountess Blackthorne certainly came into contact with some vaunted beauties.

For the first time in days Beatrice chuckled with genuine amusement. ‘Papa’s right: I might be on the shelf...’ she pulled a little face ‘...but I’m not sure it worries me; at present I’m fed up with gentlemen and romance.’

‘That will pass.’ Walter flapped a hand. ‘Every young lady craves her own home and family.’

‘Are you trying to get rid of me, Papa?’ Beatrice teased her father.

‘You know I am not! You may stay with your old papa for as long as you wish...but to tell the truth I was looking forward to walking you down the aisle before these old legs finally give out on me.’

‘And so you shall, Papa,’ Elise reassured him, getting up from her place by her sister’s chair. Having tested the tea that she’d abandoned in the pot, Elise found it now unpalatably lukewarm.

‘Your Aunt Dolly will be very sad to have this news,’ Walter muttered, sinking into a seat.

‘She loves a wedding,’ Elise reflected, settling by her papa on the sofa.

‘She travelled here to attend your nuptials uninvited, as I recall.’ Walter dredged up a chuckle at the memory of his widowed sister turning up out of the blue on the eve of the wedding, expecting to be housed and fed.

‘And Mrs Vickers accompanied her,’ Elise chipped in, fondly dwelling on her countryside wedding at the local church. It had been a quiet, yet wonderful occasion, with just her family about her. She glanced at her sister, wondering if Bea was musing sadly on the fact that Colin Burnett had acted as Alex’s groomsman that fine afternoon.

‘I rather liked Edith Vickers,’ Beatrice remarked brightly. She had indeed been thinking of Colin’s role in her sister’s happy day and pounced on the first thing that came into her head to chase memories of him from her mind. ‘How is Mrs Vickers? Do you ever see her?’

‘Oh...of course...you would not know for I’ve not had a reason to mention it.’ Elise frowned. ‘Sadly, Mrs Vickers passed away.’ She leaned forward to impart an exciting titbit. ‘There was quite a brouhaha when it came to light that she had not been as hard up as she’d believed herself to be. When Edith’s husband died his creditors pounced and left her in very reduced circumstances. But they left alone the deeds to a strip of land in India because it was deemed to be barren. Mrs Vickers bequeathed it to her nephew, Hugh.’

‘Hugh Kendrick?’ Walter snarled.

He recalled that name. When Beatrice had gone with her sister to London several years ago Mrs Vickers’s nephew had shown undue interest in Beatrice, raising her hopes that he might propose. Walter had been enraged to know the fellow hadn’t the wherewithal to take on a wife so must fortune-hunt for a bride. He’d been angry at himself, too, knowing that if only he had put by a dowry for his daughters his elder child might have been settled before the younger, as was the proper way of things.

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear of her passing.’ Beatrice wiped dribble from her nephew’s mouth with her hanky. ‘I expect Aunt Dolly misses Edith. They were good friends, weren’t they?’

‘So...the land was not worthless?’ Walter guessed, returning to the crux of the matter.

‘It was not,’ Elise confirmed, clapping her hands in glee. ‘Alex was delighted for his friend when he found out about his good fortune. Of course there were many green-eyed people not so pleased at the turn of events, and Sir Toby Kendrick led the pack—’

‘What happened?’ Walter butted in impatiently, his gnarled hand clutching tightly at his stick, turning the knuckles white. Walter loved a good tale of Lady Luck turning up unexpectedly. Many a time over the years he had wished that elusive minx would smile on him when his marriage and his business had crumbled, leaving him desolate with two teenage girls to bring up alone.

‘The strip of land contained some mines, long ago abandoned as dry. Hugh went to India and had them reinvestigated from curiosity and they turned up a seam of fine diamonds. So now Hugh Kendrick is very rich, and I for one am overjoyed for him.’

Beatrice blinked in astonishment at her past love’s extraordinary stroke of luck. ‘Yes...good for him...’ she said quietly.

‘Good for him?’ Walter barked. ‘Another fellow who broke your heart, as I recall.’

‘I do seem to attract rogues.’ Beatrice’s tone was rueful rather than bitter. ‘I’m sure it’s my own fault,’ she added with a twinkling smile. ‘You have warned me not to be so impetuous, haven’t you, Papa?’ Bea knew that in the past, especially in her pursuit of Hugh Kendrick, she’d been not only impetuous but foolhardy.

Walter glanced at his jilted daughter. He’d been right to call Elise home, he realised; just a few days ago Beatrice’s low spirits had worried him. Now, with her sister close by, she was recovering far better than Walter had dared hope. It had always been a great comfort to him that his girls were good friends as well as close kin. He knew of families where siblings resented one another—especially when one child did better than the other. But Beatrice had only been happy for her younger sister when she had caught herself a handsome aristocrat to wed, and Elise with her open, sweet nature never attempted to lord it over her less fortunate sibling.

‘It’s a shame Edith didn’t pop off a few years ago,’ Walter said. ‘Her rogue of a nephew would have received his bequest earlier and been in a position to call on me for your hand.’

‘Papa!’ Beatrice cried, half-amused, half-outraged. ‘Poor Edith! I am sad to hear of her demise no matter what benefits it turned up.’ She gestured airily. ‘Besides, it all turned out for the best; after that little sojourn in London ended, and with it my friendship with Mr Kendrick, I had only been home a few days before I was feeling relieved that he’d thrown me over.’ She tickled Adam, making him giggle, while adding self-mockingly, ‘I quickly met Colin and fell in love all over again.’

‘On the rebound,’ Walter muttered darkly. ‘And look where that got you.’

‘Hugh is still a bachelor,’ Elise piped up, subtly siding with her father.

She had also thought at the time that her sister had transferred her affection to Dr Burnett far too quickly after Hugh’s rejection. Not that Hugh had carelessly withdrawn his suit; at the time he had confided in Alex to feeling mortified at not being in a position to propose to Bea. Elise had thought him brutal in making a clean break with her sister, yet had come to realise it had been the decent thing to do. The couple’s mutual affection had started stirring gossip, and the town tabbies loved nothing better than to amuse themselves shredding an innocent’s reputation.