‘Exactly!’ he cried, surprised and gratified to discover someone who understood. ‘No one else can compare. Coming upon her again unexpectedly, the difference was...shocking. As if I’d been living in a grey world under cloudy skies, and suddenly, the sun came out, painting everything with vivid colour. Not that I’ve found my life dull or purposeless up till now, I assure you. But she just makes things...different. More beautiful.’
‘I know. I lived in just such a dull world—before I found Giles to illumine it.’
He gave a rueful sigh. ‘Ben and Christopher keep insisting that if I really wanted to, I could forget her and turn my attention to someone more suitable. But just because one knows one can’t have something, that doesn’t mean one can make oneself stop wanting it.’
‘I know. I am sorry.’
‘Don’t be. Loving her is an old ache, and I’ve known from the beginning that nothing could ever come from it. A penniless farmer’s orphan does not marry the well-dowered daughter of a family whose ancestors came over with the Conquest.’
‘And why should the daughter of an ancient family be valued any higher than a commoner who, by his own efforts, has risen to a position of power?’
He smiled at her. ‘That sounds like Lord Grey and the Friends of the People. Has Giles been converting you?’
‘I should hope I always appreciate individuals for what they themselves accomplish, not for their pedigree. However, you...you do not intend to attempt more than rekindling a friendship, do you?’
He didn’t pretend not to understand her. ‘No. I wouldn’t tarnish her honour—or mine—by attempting an affair. Goodness knows, nothing more is possible.’
She sighed. ‘It makes me sound a terrible snob, after just stating how much I value you—and I do, you are worth ten of her wretched Duke!—I have to agree. Hadley’s Hellions are doing their best to make the world a more equitable place, but we are nowhere close to being a society that would react to a duchess’s remarriage to a commoner with anything but shock and derision. Not so much for you, of course. But for her... I never had any desire to move in the late Duke’s circle, but like most of society, I heard enough of his exploits—and the falsely sweet “sympathy” expressed for his “poor little Duchess”. She’s suffered enough. I’d not be a party to anything that would bring more scorn upon her, or result in her permanent banishment from society.’
‘I assure you, all I wish is to offer her is the chance to meet other individuals from her own rank, whose company she may find more interesting and fulfilling than the endless rounds of idle society parties she told me she’s come to hate.’
‘With all the snide remarks her husband’s infidelities must have forced her to endure, I can understand why she detests them. Just promise me you won’t complicate her situation. She has already had enough to bear, married to Ashedon all those years.’
‘That’s an easy promise to give. I want to lighten her burden, not make it heavier.’
‘In that case, I shall be delighted to include her in the dinner I’m planning for next Friday. Giles and Papa are assembling some men of less radical views, with the hope of building a moderate coalition that will see the Reform Bill passed more swiftly. I’ll send her a card. And one to you as well.’
‘Thank you, Maggie. I very much appreciate it. I think you’ll like the Duchess, and I know she will enjoy your gathering.’
‘I hope you will as well.’ She looked at him, her face troubled. ‘You did me a very good turn once, bringing me back to the man I loved. I only wish I could conjure a magic spell, so I might create as favourable a result for you.’
‘Helping Faith is the best thing you can do for me.’
‘I’ll do all I can.’ She walked him to the door, halting on the threshold to give him a kiss on the cheek. ‘Have a care for yourself, too, Davie. As I know only too well, hearts can break more than once.’
‘But only once for the same person,’ he replied, and walked out.
He certainly hoped so, anyway.
* * *
In the afternoon two days later, having received a note from Davie informing her that Lady Lyndlington would be sending her a card of invitation for a dinner the following Friday, Faith ordered a hackney and went to pay a call on her erstwhile hostess. She’d suffered the expected dressing-down from the Dowager over her dinner-party flight—and her absence from the obligatory drive in the Park the next day—in a silence meek enough not to call down more criticism on her head. She felt safe enough attempting this errand; as Davie had said, even the high-in-the-instep Dowager couldn’t fault her calling on the daughter of a marquess.
Knowing how persuasive Davie the politician could be, she wanted to assure herself that Lady Lyndlington truly wished to include her in the gathering...and to discover whether she would feel comfortable enough with her hostess to want to attend.
In the early years of their marriage, Ashedon had done a very effective job in isolating her, distancing her from her family while at the same time actively discouraging her developing friendships with anyone else. At the time, still radiantly in love and certain of his love in return, she’d been too preoccupied trying to learn the duties required of the mistress of numerous properties and a multitude of servants, then waylaid by a succession of pregnancies and the delight of newborns, to fully realise just how alone she’d become.
But as the boys grew and her husband’s attentions dwindled, she’d become only too aware that she had virtually no friends of her age and class. The society women in whose company she often found herself all seemed to have already established circles of friendship, which were not interested in admitting any newcomers. And even if they had, most of the members were either indifferent to or contemptuous of the country life and activities that she prized so much more highly than the idle amusements of London.
She could tell that Davie admired Lady Lyndlington, and she valued his opinion. But a man’s view of a woman could be very different from one woman’s view of another. Would this marquess’s daughter, with her superior intellect and expertise in politics, hide beneath polite words the same contemptuous pity for simple little Faith Wellingford that made her association with other sophisticated ladies of the ton so unpleasant?
The carriage slowed to a halt, the footman coming over to open the door and hand her down. Heading to the front steps of the Upper Brook Street town house, Faith took a deep breath, suppressing out of long habit a too-often disappointed hope. One way or another, she was about to find out.
The butler showed her into an elegant room done in the Adam style in shades of white and blue. Several bookcases stood against one wall, filled with a variety of volumes. Perusing the shelves to discover several plays and novels she had enjoyed, Faith felt a renewal of the hope she’d tried to squelch.
Perhaps Lady Lyndlington might be someone of similar interests after all.
A moment later, the lady herself entered. ‘Duchess, how kind of you to call! I do hope you didn’t do so to convey your regrets for the Friday night gathering! I’m very much looking forward to becoming better acquainted. Davie—Mr Smith—is my husband’s closest friend, and we both have a very high regard for him—and for anyone of whom he speaks with as much warmth and respect as he did of you.’
‘He is very kind.’
‘Indeed. Would you take tea?’
‘If I wouldn’t be imposing, or taking you away from other duties.’
‘Not at all. I should like it very much.’
As would I, Faith thought, her cautious optimism increasing as her hostess rang the bell pull and informed the butler to bring refreshments. She’d spoken briefly with Lady Lyndlington at several society balls, among a crush of other attendees, but meeting her here in her own parlour, she was immediately drawn by her warm, open friendliness.
She’d already seen enough to decide she could safely accept the dinner invitation. She’d try not to hope for more.
‘I understand you’ve known Mr Smith since you were very young,’ her hostess said as she took a seat on the sofa.
‘Yes, before I even made my come-out. I was spending the summer with my cousin, and Mr Smith had come to serve as secretary to her husband.’ Faith gestured to the bookshelves. ‘After dinner one night, we found ourselves both in the library, searching for a book. Which led to a discussion about favourite authors that lasted the rest of the evening. After that, we met in the afternoons when he’d finished his work, and talked or rode. I’d read him poetry; he’d tell me about history and politics and his plans for the future—to become a parliamentarian, and help to change the government of the nation. He was so...intelligent, and caring, and full of conviction! I’d never met anyone like him.’
Lady Lyndlington smiled. ‘It sounds as if he hasn’t changed very much. He’s still intelligent, caring and full of conviction.’
He’s changed in one way, Faith thought, conversation lapsing as the butler brought in the tea tray. The romantic young hero has become a compellingly attractive man.
‘Yes, he seems much the same as I remember,’ she continued after Lady Lyndlington handed her a cup. ‘Foolishly, I suppose, I expected we would maintain our friendship over the years. But of course, once I married and he began his career we...didn’t see each other very often.’
‘I expect not. Running such a large household, a duchess must have many duties.’
Declining to correct that erroneous assumption, she said, ‘Mr Smith tells me that you’ve managed your father’s household for years, and arrange his political dinners. How fascinating it must be, to literally have a seat at the table of power as matters of national interest are discussed!’
Lady Lyndlington laughed. ‘Along with a smattering of gossip and personal anecdotes. But you are right; it is stimulating. Not that I did anything special to deserve being so blessed, other than having the good fortune to be born my father’s daughter. I do hope you will find the evening enjoyable.’
‘I’m sure I shall! I expect to do no more than listen, which I hope will be acceptable. What’s the old saying—‘Better to be silent and be thought foolish, than to speak and remove all doubt’? I shall refrain from displaying my ignorance!’
‘Listening to the discussions, you will soon have a fairly accurate picture of what’s transpiring. Please, feel free to ask questions! Coming into the debates with no preconceived ideas, you will have a fresh perspective that could be most helpful.’
‘Well, I don’t know about that, but I shall certainly listen most carefully.’
‘The discussions often become quite lively—and I hope they will be, for there’s no cards, or singing, or other entertainment. I would hate to bore you on your very first evening with us.’
‘I don’t care at all for gaming, and I shall be quite content to listen to intelligent discussion of issues that matter, rather than the snide, biting comments that so often form much of the conversation.’ She shrugged. ‘Perhaps because I have been so often the subject of them.’
Lady Lyndlington frowned. ‘Surely people are not disrespectful to a duchess!’