Tilting her head to one side, Lady Fortescue appeared to consider this for a moment.
‘You’re probably correct,’ she conceded.
‘Forgive me for my bluntness, but you seem wildly unconcerned about the gossip attached to our names,’ Harry said.
The situation was feeling rather surreal. Normally if a man and a woman had been found in a compromising position it would be the woman who was eager to save her reputation. Gentlemen, especially titled ones, were forgiven all manner of indiscretions. Gently bred ladies were not. It was perhaps unfair, but it was the way society worked.
Harry watched Lady Fortescue carefully and detected a tiny twitch in the muscles of her forehead. It could mean anything, but he wondered if it was yet another sign that Lady Fortescue was unnaturally good at hiding her emotions.
‘Lord Edgerton,’ she said with a sigh, ‘before you met me what had you heard?’
Harry opened his mouth to answer and then closed it again. He’d heard plenty. The ballrooms and gentlemen’s clubs had been rife with rumours and speculation about Lady Fortescue and her three deceased husbands.
‘I take it from your silence the rumours were not complimentary...’ She paused, smiling to reveal a perfect set of white teeth. ‘Ever since my second husband passed away people have talked about me, not to my face, of course, but they have picked and prodded at my life as if it were nothing more than an episode for public entertainment.’
‘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.