‘That cannot be pleasant.’
‘It isn’t, of course it isn’t, but I’m still here. A little gossip isn’t the worst thing in the world.’ It was the second time she’d made that statement, the second time she’d brushed off the damage unkind words could do, and Harry began to wonder what Lady Fortescue did think was the worst thing in the world.
‘A scandal can ruin lives,’ Harry said resolutely. ‘Even end lives,’ he added too quietly for Lady Fortescue to hear.
‘It depends on the person and the nature of the scandal, I suppose.’
Harry thought of his sister. She’d always been strong, vivacious, until the fateful night when her reputation had been dashed by a scoundrel of a young man and a few malicious onlookers. Before it had happened Harry would have said his sister could withstand anything; now he knew how fragile people could be.
‘I am grateful for your concern,’ Lady Fortescue said softly, the coolness of her demeanour lifting slightly. ‘You want to do the honourable thing and I’m sure any other young woman would be delighted to continue with a sham engagement until the rumours were lessened, if not forgotten.’
‘But not you?’
Every word she uttered was considered and carefully chosen, every movement precise. And every moment that passed by Harry found himself becoming more and more intrigued by the notorious Lady Fortescue.
‘People already say the worst about me—another rumour is not going to make much difference.’
Harry wasn’t so sure. Sometimes even the weakest of gossip could be turned into something hurtful and malicious.
Sitting up even straighter in her seat, Lady Fortescue fixed Harry with an assessing gaze. ‘Unless you have a reason to want to avoid the scandal.’
Of course he did. The Edgerton family name had been dragged through the dirt after his sister’s disgrace, but Harry was titled and reasonably wealthy and his reputation wouldn’t suffer overly much by being caught in a compromising position with Lady Fortescue. Especially if he married a nice, respectable young woman in a few months’ time. No, his reason for being here today wasn’t for himself or the rest of the Edgertons—in fact, he knew by embroiling himself with such a notorious widow he was opening himself up for more gossip and scandal than if he just stayed away. The real reason for him being here today was a sense of wanting to do the right thing by a young woman who might have a bad reputation, but seemed decent and vulnerable in Harry’s assessment. Perhaps he wouldn’t have been so insistent a year ago, but seeing his sister go through just such a scandal had awakened him to the hurt a woman could suffer at the hands of an unscrupulous man.
‘Not at all,’ Harry said. Lady Fortescue did not need to hear the dark, intimate Edgerton family secrets. ‘There is simply the matter of our supposed engagement to deal with.’
For the first time today Lady Fortescue smiled, her eyes sparkling with repressed humour. ‘You can throw me over, I really don’t mind.’
‘Shall I say I caught you in the arms of another man?’ Harry couldn’t help himself, he wanted to see how far he could push her before she cracked.
There was a beat of silence, then Lady Fortescue’s shoulders sagged a little, the perfect posture disappearing and with it some of the formality she exuded.
‘I’ve been rude,’ she said, her voice softer, less clipped. ‘Inexcusably so. I apologise. I suppose I’m not used to talking to people.’
The door opened before Harry could answer, the elderly butler followed closely by a young maid.
‘I thought you might like to offer your guest some tea, my lady,’ the butler said.
The maid set down a tray with two teacups, a pot, a jug of milk and a plate of crumbly biscuits before hurriedly leaving the room. The butler hesitated for a moment at the door.
‘Perhaps the gentleman will be staying for lunch?’ he asked, almost hopefully.
Lady Fortescue laughed, exuding warmth towards the elderly servant, her grey eyes glittering as she turned back to Harry.
‘I’m sure you’re far too busy.’
He inclined his head. There was always work to be done running his country estate and looking over the accounts, but he could of course have made time for lunch.
The butler left, muttering something about a proper invitation before closing the door behind him.
‘Your uncle’s butler seems very keen to have guests to wait upon.’
‘I expect my cousin, Beatrice, put him up to asking. He is completely devoted to her, probably would jump in front of a horse if she asked him to without a second’s thought.’
‘Your cousin is playing matchmaker?’
Lady Fortescue grimaced, a reaction that would have normally dented Harry’s pride, but he was quickly learning this young widow was strongly opposed to any future romantic link.
‘Forgive me for not ordering tea sooner,’ she said. ‘I am not used to entertaining guests.’
Most wives of titled gentlemen were exemplary hosts, their main role to welcome guests into a well-looked-after home, but perhaps during her mourning period Lady Fortescue had locked herself away out of devotion to her late husband and forgotten the basics of hospitality.
Harry sipped his tea, selected a biscuit and munched on it. All in all it had been a strange morning. He’d expected to come away with an engagement, at least in name, to Lady Fortescue. Instead he’d been more or less dismissed, despite the young widow’s softening in the last part of their interview.
Standing, Harry was just about to take his leave when the door opened again and the doddery butler entered.
‘A package for you, my lady.’
He’d never seen the blood drain from someone’s face as quickly as it did from Lady Fortescue’s. Quietly she thanked the butler, who placed the package on the table in front of her before leaving the room.
Her hands were shaking as she stood, an unnaturally sunny smile plastered on her face.
‘Thank you for visiting.’ Her words came out as a choked whisper, and a hand flew to her mouth as if to claw them back in.
The world was spinning, or that was how it seemed to Anna. Everything in the room had gone blurry and she felt herself stagger uncoordinatedly a few steps to one side. Before she could get her panic under control strong arms had looped around her waist and were guiding her back to the armchair, pressing her firmly, insistently, into the seat.
‘Take deep, slow breaths.’ Lord Edgerton’s voice was quiet and calm in her ear.
Silently Anna cursed. Two minutes later and Lord Edgerton would have left. Now there would be questions, enquiries about her health, probably even a follow-up visit. At least the rules of politeness meant he would not enquire what was in the package.
‘What on earth is in that package?’ Lord Edgerton murmured, more to himself than to her. ‘That’s it, long, deep breaths, you’ll feel recovered in a moment.’
Thankfully he didn’t seem inclined to call for a servant or her cousin to come and attend her; he seemed perfectly content to deal with this himself. Anna had to admire a man who could deal calmly with a panicking near-stranger—most would just step back and convince themselves it wasn’t their problem.
Opening her eyes, she saw the room had come back into focus. In front of her she could see her hands gripping