Her sister, being some years younger, had not quite managed to hold on to as firm countenance as Emmeline Fitzgerald had managed. Her face had crumpled, and he could see how red her cheeks had flushed from across the room. Her eyes were shining, and he realized that it would not be long before the young lady fell to tears. And when she did, her sister’s plight would grow yet worse still.
Tristan Lennox continued to hold court as if he was trying to regain everybody’s attention, even draw it away from Miss Fitzgerald. But it was not helping, not helping at all. If he had at least brought the matter to a close and set the musicians to playing once more, then it would have given Emmeline Fitzgerald the perfect excuse to move from her spot, to change position, to get herself closer to the door and to the freedom of escaping the humiliation.
After more than ten minutes, Tristan Lennox finally stopped speaking and, when the musicians began to play once more, small groups of chatterers began to form here, there, and everywhere. Whilst they still looked over in Miss Fitzgerald’s direction intermittently, there was not the silence and the staring of before. Hunter had felt himself relieved, almost as if the whole dreadful thing was happening to him and not Emmeline Fitzgerald.
Hunter had wondered what he ought to do and thought that if he joined Miss Fitzgerald and her sister, he might ease some of their suffering. At the same time, he wondered if it would help at all. After all, all present were perfectly well aware that he had been treated similarly himself of late, and perhaps Miss Fitzgerald might not want to be allied with him at that moment, lest she be pitied equally.
However, as he watched the two young women, both alone as pariahs, with nobody offering any comfort or support at all, he felt his anger rise. Society had come to disgust him and never more so than at that moment. Whilst the fine ladies and gentlemen of the county were happy to form in groups and gossip about the poor woman whose fate had been taken out of her hands, none of them wanted to be seen to help her. They would rather be seen as gossips than humans.
In the end, Hunter had made his way to them. There was nothing else for it but to do what he could to assist.
“Well, if she was, or indeed still is, in love with Christopher Lennox, why on earth would you want to marry her?” Algernon broke through his thoughts.
“Because I think it is very much simpler to be married to somebody to whom you have no true attachment. I am looking for a wife so that I might produce an heir, and she is looking for a husband so that she might keep her mother and sister provided for when they are turned out of their home.”
“So, you would seek a marriage of convenience?”
“Yes.” Hunter nodded. “Yes, I would. And, in truth, I think Miss Fitzgerald might even prefer something similar herself.”
“Hunter, I can see all sorts wrong with this plan. Would you do me the honour of staying to dinner so that I might tell you all of the pitfalls?”
“Of course,” Hunter said and smiled, determined that nothing Algernon could say would deter him from his plan.
Chapter 6
“It was very kind of your mother to allow me to stay whilst I am in the county.” Kent Fitzgerald was down early for breakfast.
Ordinarily, Emmeline took her breakfast so early that she generally took it alone. The rest of her family had always risen just an hour or so later, and Emmeline had always enjoyed the solitude of that one meal. She had always been an early riser and liked mornings best with nobody else around her. It always seemed to her as if the early morning belonged to her and her alone, and it was a time when she could order her thoughts and be at peace before the day began.
However, on that morning, Kent Fitzgerald joined her. She could not think of him as a cousin, even though he was her second cousin. She felt him to be a stranger, a man in her home who ought not to have been there because she knew him so little. Furthermore, there was something about him that she did not like, and she thought it went beyond the fact that he was soon to turn them all out of the only home she had ever known.
She was angry, of course, and resentful without question. But her dislike of him was based on something which seemed to make her more uncomfortable than angry. Emmeline could not help thinking that there was something in his nature, something that was currently hidden from view, which would make her flesh creep a little if she knew what it was.
“Well, I am sure that my mother would not have seen you in lodgings, Mr Fitzgerald.”
“Kent, please. Or, cousin, if you prefer it.” He smiled at her.
“Well, Kent, do help yourself to breakfast things. The kitchen staff always lay on so much that you may eat as much as you wish.” Emmeline was caught between wanting to get away from him and knowing that she ought to be polite.
As the eldest daughter, she was the hostess when her mother was not in their company, and she knew that she ought to represent her mother well. It would not do to make their guest uncomfortable, whatever her reservations about him, or even her resentments.
“You are too kind, Emmeline,” he said, using her first name without invitation.
Ordinarily, Emmeline might have objected, but she realized that she was in no great position to. And it was perhaps not the greatest imposition after all. The greatest imposition was yet to come, and if she was to feel so agitated by his use of her first name, then she could not begin to imagine how she would feel on the day that he took residence and she, her mother, and her sister, were made homeless.
As Kent helped himself to bacon and kidneys, Emmeline regarded him coolly. In truth, he was not unpleasant to look at, quite the reverse. He was of medium height and build, and neither too fat nor too thin. His hair was brown, neither too dark nor too pale, and his eyes were of a similar colour. He was not handsome, and neither was he repellent. He seemed to be pleasing in that he did not meet any extremes, rather than being handsome in his own right.
All in all, he was well turned out and well-groomed and had a pleasing face. But there was something very plain about him, and Emmeline thought the woman who married him would likely have a very dull time of it.
“And how are you, Emmeline? I do not wish to pry, but I know, of course, that you have suffered a little these last weeks.” His inquiry seemed to be genuine enough, and yet, for reasons she could not explain, it angered her.
“I am sure that I shall survive it all, I thank you, Kent.” She smiled politely although her face felt taut with the strain of it.
“Yes, I am sure that you shall survive. You certainly seem like a very sensible young lady if I might say so. But of course, we all have feelings, do we not?” He smiled at her a little unsurely.
“Indeed, we do, Kent, and I thank you for enquiring. It really is very decent of you.” She thawed a little, thinking that his inquiry might well have been genuine after all.