is there in having lived so long in the midst of society?’
‘So—what happened?’
‘It began many years ago, just after the current earl inherited. He and his best friend courted the same woman—Giles Hadley’s mother. She loved the friend, not the young earl, but the friend was a younger son with no title or income, and Randall Hadley, already Lord Telbridge, would have both. The friend intended to go to India and make his fortune, but the girl’s family, which was in dire financial straits, wouldn’t let her wait on the possibility that he might one day return a nabob. Understandable, really; he might just as well die of a fever, or be killed in one of the native wars. They pressured her into agreeing to marry Telbridge, which she did ten days after the friend left for India.’
‘Poor lady,’ Maggie said, thinking of how awful it would have been if family duty had forced her to marry someone other than Robbie. ‘And then?’
‘All was well until several years after the wedding, when Telbridge somehow learned that his wife and the friend had stayed alone together at a hunting cottage the night before he left for India. Pressed by the earl, his wife would not deny that they had been lovers—and that she could not therefore assure the earl with perfect certitude that the son she bore him nine months after the wedding was in fact his. Wild with jealousy and anger, he sent them both away. Deaf to any pleas of reason, he divorced her and cut off all support—funds, lodging, even schooling for the boy. He remarried soon after the divorce bill was passed by the Lords, and has since devoted all his wealth and affection to the son of his second wife. As far as I know, Telbridge has not set eyes on the viscount in years. But all the rancour in the world will not alter the fact that since Giles Hadley was born after Telbridge married his mother, and was acknowledged for several years as the earl’s son, under law, he will inherit, for all that Telbridge now shuns him.’
Maggie shook her head. ‘Poor boy! No wonder he refuses to use his courtesy title. But from what you say, he grew up with no resources at all. I would expect him to be a simpleton or a savage, but he seems quite cultured. Did his mother’s family step in to help?’
The dowager smiled thinly. ‘Though admittedly, the scandal of the divorce placed them in an awkward position, I’ve always held that blood should care for blood. The girl’s parents, however—doubtless with a glance over their shoulder at the financial boon the earl had provided them upon the marriage—disowned her. The boy might have grown up a savage, but for the intervention some years later by his aunt who, once she married, persuaded her husband to sponsor the boy and raise him as befitted his station.’
‘Lord Newville?’ she asked. ‘Papa told me he had taken Mr Hadley under his wing.’
‘Quite. The Newvilles took care of mother and son, financed Hadley’s schooling, and sponsored his candidacy into Parliament. After what he suffered at his father’s hands, it’s not surprising he turned into a Radical, committed to limiting the power of the aristocracy.’
‘What happened to the lady?’
‘By all accounts, she was content, living in rural isolation with her son. I expect she hoped that one day the man she loved would return for her. But as it turned out, her family was right about that, if little else. He died in India several years after her divorce, and she did not long outlive him.’
‘Now that his eldest son has made such a name for himself, and knowing he will one day inherit, isn’t it time for Telbridge to make peace with his heir?’
The dowager shook her head. ‘Randall Hadley was always a proud, unyielding man. I think it was more the satisfaction of winning the woman away from his friend, rather than affection for the lady, that led the earl to wed her in the first place, and he couldn’t tolerate the idea that his wife had been touched by another. It’s only thanks to the good sense of Hadley’s aunt that the successor to the earldom won’t be a complete Hottentot.’
‘So there isn’t much chance of father and son reconciling?’
‘I wouldn’t wager on it,’ the dowager said. ‘The earl is too stubborn; his second son, from what I hear, is so jealous and resentful of the heir he takes every opportunity to speak ill of him to his father. As for the viscount, he will inherit whether they reconcile or not. I would expect he has little desire to approach a man who left him and his mother destitute. Certainly, Telbridge has done nothing in the years since to prompt his son—if the viscount is his son—to seek a reconciliation.’
‘Perhaps,’ Maggie said with a sigh. ‘But it is still sad.’
‘Family squabbles are as old as time. Read your Bible,’ the dowager advised.
‘That doesn’t make them less regrettable.’
‘Indeed. However, if you do intend to…pursue an acquaintance with Giles Hadley, I would do so cautiously.’
‘Why do you say that? Surely you don’t think he’s “dangerous”, as John Proctor warned! Even if he should subscribe to Godwin’s theories on abolishing marriage, I cannot see him forcibly seducing a woman.’ She laughed ruefully. ‘He wouldn’t need to.’
‘I’ve heard nothing of that—rather the opposite, actually. His amours have been few, and the ladies involved were treated with great courtesy. No, it’s just that I’d not like to see a lovers’ triangle descend to the second generation.’
‘Lovers’ triangle?’ Her puzzlement gave way to irritation as she made the connection. ‘That Morning Post article again! Surely you don’t give any credence to newspaper gossip. I have no interest in wedding George Hadley, no matter how much he sidles up to Papa!’
‘Though the writers do expend an inordinate amount of ink speculating about their betters, there is always some thread of truth in the reports. Perhaps George Hadley thinks he’s “sidled up” to your father successfully enough that he’s in a fair way to winning your hand. It would be an excellent match for him.’
‘Well, it wouldn’t be an excellent one for me,’ Maggie retorted with some heat. ‘I don’t like the man, and I’m not so committed to the Tories that I would marry someone for their political advantage. Nor would Papa try to persuade me, no matter how much George Hadley tries to turn him up sweet.’
‘Yes, but that’s not the problem,’ the countess continued patiently. ‘Don’t you see? There is no love lost between the brothers. Isn’t it possible that, having read the newspaper reports as the rest of us have, Giles Hadley might seek you out, just to put a spoke in the wheel of his half-brother’s plans? Now, I’m not saying Hadley turned up in Armsburn’s borough with that in mind. Most likely he was in Chellingham for political reasons of his own, met you by chance, and admires you sincerely—why ever should he not? Given the history between the two, though, I would be cautious.’
For a moment, the thought that Giles Hadley might have approached her with the intent of beguiling her so he could crow to his brother about his conquest made her feel sick. That scenario was too reminiscent of the debacle with Sir Francis.
But an instant later, a deep conviction rose up to refute that scenario. Regardless of his reasons for coming to Chellingham, the attraction between them had been genuine—she was sure of that. Whether or not he would pursue the connection because of his brother’s interest in her, or in spite of it, she didn’t know, but the spark lit between them had not been the product of her imagination.
What she chose to do about it, now that she knew his full background, was still up to her. She was no more interested in becoming the bone
