Captain Fawley's Innocent Bride

‘Well, I…’

‘Oh, you do not need to tell me—you cannot bear to look at him!’

‘With that face?’ Susannah shuddered. ‘Can you blame me?’

Deborah struggled to control her temper. ‘I admit he has been knocked about a bit. But only consider how he received his wounds. Fighting for his country. He is worth ten of that fribble Baron Dunning, whom you hang upon because he has a title. He worked his way up through the ranks, earning promotion through merit….’

Drawing herself up to her full height, Susannah said quietly, ‘Your mother has already made me revise my opinion of Baron Dunning. I see what this is, Deborah—you have designs upon Captain Fawley yourself.’

Deborah’s mouth opened, then closed, as she sought to refute Susannah’s argument, but realised she could not in all conscience do so.

‘I do not have designs upon him,’ she eventually managed to say. ‘But that does not mean I am prepared to stand by and watch you break his heart. I think you are a better person than that, Suzy.’

Susannah’s eyes narrowed. ‘If you do not have your sights set on him, and if you are only thinking of what is best for him, then I would have thought you would be glad that I have finally relented towards him. He is intelligent enough to know what my ambitions are. He knows I intend to make a brilliant match. Agreeing to go to one ball as his guest, letting him have one dance with me, is all he aspires to, I assure you. I won’t encourage him to dangle after me.’

‘I…I hope you will not.’

‘Of course I won’t! What do you take me for?’ She laid one hand upon Deborah’s arm. ‘Goose. I think you must really need to lie down if you are as snappish as this.’

‘Yes,’ Deborah mumbled, hanging her head guiltily. ‘Yes, I think I must.’

Though she felt wrung out after that episode, sleep remained far from her as she lay rigidly on top of the counterpane, her fists clenched at her sides. She did not know what was the matter with her. Why had she got so angry with Susannah? Oh, if only this Season was over, and she could leave London and all its painful associations behind.

As soon as Susannah’s future was settled, she would begin to scour the papers and apply for every post suitable for a lady of gentle birth.

She was never going to get married.

She did not want to get married!

Not if it meant playing the sort of games Susannah was indulging in.

* * *

A week later, as she entered the portals of Challinor House, Deborah was glad she had allowed Susannah to talk her into buying a new gown.

‘Papa will pay for it!’ she had airily promised. ‘And don’t think of it as charity. He has hired your mother to bring me to the notice of the best families, and I am sure he will think the cost of one gown well worth it to have us both looking our best when we walk into the house of a marquis!’

That had been all it had taken to sway Deborah. They both had to look the part, not just Susannah. If Deborah merely refurbished one of the few ballgowns she had, or remade one of Susannah’s cast-offs, as she had first intended, every woman there would know she was purse-pinched. And then they would look at Susannah, decked out in her finery, and see the true state of affairs. A girl who had to hire someone to launch her into society would not be looked upon with the same indulgence as one who was being sponsored, out of friendship, by a family with as good a pedigree as the Gillies.

Still, seeing the diamonds that glittered at the throats and ears of so many of the other guests as they slowly made their way up the stairs, made her feel as though it was she, and not Susannah, who was the impostor here. Though her ballgown was quite the finest thing she had ever owned, a superbly cut satin slip, with an overdress of gauze embroidered with hundreds of the tiniest beads whirling in intricate patterns, little puffed sleeves and a demi-train of spangled lace, her only jewellery was a single strand of pearls that had been her mother’s.

‘I don’t need such gewgaws at my age, dear.’ She had smiled as she clasped it about her daughter’s neck just before they came out. ‘In fact, I prefer to conceal as much of my neck as I can!’ She had recently taken to wearing an assortment of floaty scarves draped about her throat. The one she had on tonight was a delicate wisp of powder blue, which, Deborah had to admit, somehow managed to put the finishing touch to an outfit that was as elegant as anything that the other older ladies were wearing.

At length, they came to the head of the receiving line, and she finally came face to face with her host and hostess. The Marquis of Lensborough bowed his head in greeting to her mother, expressed the appropriate sentiments to her, but then merely looked at Susannah as though…she gasped—as though she had no right to be there. As his features settled into a decided sneer, Deborah took a strong aversion to him. Why on earth did Susannah want to ingratiate herself with people of his class, who would only ever look down their aristocratic noses at her? And his fiancеe, a tall, rake-thin redhead, was no better. She had the most haughty, closed expression of any woman Deborah had ever met. It was a relief to get past them and make for the ballroom.

‘Ah, there is Gussy!’ said her mother, spotting the dowager Lady Lensborough holding court from a sofa in an alcove just off the ballroom proper. Deborah felt her lips rise in a wry smile. It had come as a shock when, not two days after Captain Fawley had made his promise to get them an invitation, the dowager Marchioness of Lensborough had swept into their drawing room, and proceeded to treat her mother as though she was a close friend. She soon learned that this was not so very far from the truth. They had known each other as girls, and though their paths in life had taken very different directions, they had kept up a sporadic correspondence.

She had made both girls stand, and turn and walk before her, before she deigned to hand over the coveted invitations.

‘I will not have any chit in my ballroom who will not do it credit,’ she had said outrageously. ‘You are both pretty enough, in your own ways.’ She had raised her lorgnette and frowned at each in turn. ‘It is a great pity that your daughter has not her friend’s looks and fortune, Sally. But then again, she has not the advantage of breeding. But there…’ she sighed ‘…that is always the way of things. And there is no real reason why either of them should not marry well. My own son has gone for character, over beauty, in the choice of his bride, as I am sure you will discover when you meet her.’ She clicked her tongue in exasperation. ‘Men are such odd creatures. No telling what will take their fancy.’

Susannah and Deborah followed closely in her mother’s wake, like chicks seeking the warmth of a mother hen. The dowager’s evident pleasure in seeing the girls served as a welcome antidote to their frosty reception, and reassured the other guests that these two girls were persons worthy of notice. Soon, Susannah’s hand was being solicited for the dancing that was about to ensue. She very correctly saved the first dance for Captain Fawley, but when he came to claim her hand, Deborah was somewhat startled to find he had brought a tall, fair-haired man with him.

‘Permit me to introduce my half-brother, Miss Gillies,’ he said to her. ‘Lord Charles Algernon Fawley, ninth Earl of Walton.’

He looked nothing like Captain Fawley. Not only was he fair-haired and blue-eyed, but there was nothing about their facial features to suggest they could be related at all.

Deborah curtsied. He bowed, then shocked her by saying, ‘Would you do me the honour of allowing me to partner you for the first dance?’

It was with mixed feelings that she allowed Lord Walton to lead her on to the dance floor. It had been so kind of Captain Fawley to ensure she was not left on the sidelines, while Susannah formed part of the set that opened such a glittering ball. She had never danced with an earl, never mind such a handsome one. She should have been giddy with rapture. But as they trod the measure of the stately quadrille, she could not help being agonisingly aware that, though she formed part of the set that contained Captain Fawley, she was not his partner. Nor could she help but be aware of the satisfaction that gleamed from his eyes every time he linked hands with Susannah.

On the whole, she was glad when the exercise was over, and Lord Walton led her back to the bench where her mother was sitting, chatting happily with a bevy of dowagers.

As Susannah’s next partner came to claim his dance, Captain Fawley bowed stiffly to Deborah. His face looked a little strained as he said, somewhat defensively, ‘I am not going to ask you to dance, Miss Gillies. But may I have the pleasure of your company during the next set, if your card is free?’

In spite of all the stern lectures she had given herself, her heart began to beat a tattoo against her ribs in response to his request. In truth, she would much rather spend time talking to him, than treading prescribed steps in time with the music. Especially since she could tell that performing the quadrille had cost him quite dearly. Lines of tension bracketed his mouth, and his eyes were dulled with pain.

‘Yes, thank you. I should like that.’ She smiled, laying her hand upon his arm as he held it out. ‘In fact,’ she suggested, sensitive to his evident discomfort, ‘I should quite enjoy sitting and watching the dancers.’

He quirked one eye at her. ‘You sound just like Heloise—that is, my sister-in-law, Lady Walton. As an artist, she likes to observe the ton at play. Do you sketch?’

‘Oh, no, not really. No more than any young lady is supposed to.’

He suddenly frowned. ‘Of course, you are not in the best of health, are you? Here, let us sit on this sofa, so that you may rest.’

‘I do not need to rest. Not tonight. I am not generally invalidish,’ she retorted. Then could have kicked herself for being so insensitive. He had probably homed in on her precisely because he thought she was frail, so that he could have the opportunity to sit without making it look as though it was what he needed to do.

He settled her on a cushioned window seat, far enough from the swirling crowds so that they could engage in conversation, yet still within sight of the chaperon’s bench.

‘Are you enjoying your Season?’ he enquired politely, ignoring her last tactless remark.

‘In some ways.’ She sighed. She did not want to waste her few precious moments with him in polite nothings. Yet he did not look as though he was really interested in her answer. ‘I am certainly glad to see my mother enjoying herself so much.’ She looked across the room to where Mrs Gillies was dividing her time between chatting with her acquaintances and watching Susannah’s progress with obvious satisfaction. ‘From the moment we heard that a Season in London was going to be possible after all, it was as though she came back to life.’

‘Your father died not long ago, I seem to recall?’

‘Yes, and it hit her very badly. For several months she seemed to lose interest in everything. I had to…’ She paused. She did not want to sound as though she was complaining. ‘Well, we were not left in very comfortable circumstances. But look at her now.’ She smiled fondly at her mother across the room. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were bright. ‘It has done her so much good to launch Susannah. And finding so many of her old friends in London has successfully distracted her from her problems.’

‘But what of you?’ he persisted. ‘I can see your friend is enjoying her triumph. And that your mother is in her element. But how does the delicate Miss Gillies fare in the hurly burly of London society?’

‘I have told you before, I am not in the least delicate! It was only because…’ She tailed off, blushing as she realised she was on the point of divulging just how desperate their straits had been before the Hullworthys had come to their rescue.

The little cottage, which had seemed perfectly charming when they had moved in during the summer, had revealed all its inadequacies during the first autumnal storm. The roof leaked, the windows rattled in their casements, and the chimneys smoked. Her mother had shrunk into herself as though finally realising that she was going to eke out the rest of her days in penury. Feeling as though she had contributed to her mother’s state of mind, by not having managed to find somewhere better, Deborah’s health had broken down.

That, at least, had roused Mrs Gillies from her apathy. Fearing that she might lose her daughter, as well as her husband, within the space of a few months, she had put pride to one side and finally accepted the Hullworthys’ offer of rooms up at the Hall so she could nurse Deborah back to health in warmth and comfort.

Even though it meant they had become charity cases.

Deborah was only having this Season at all because she felt she owed the Hullworthys her very life. She had not wanted to come, especially not at their expense, but Susannah wanted her mother to launch her into society, and Deborah was necessary to make the whole thing look right.