a ruined coat after pressing his attentions on an unwilling girl less than a third his age. The man was dead now, but he had been no credit to himself or anyone else. But what, Robert Dungarran wondered, what would society have said if they had known what happened in the Duchess of Sutherland’s library after the episode with Canford? No one did. No one but Hester Perceval and himself. Thinking back, he had perhaps been harsh with the girl, but encouraging her would have been even more unkind. He shifted uncomfortably, the scene six years before vivid in his mind’s eye.
When Dungarran had arrived at the door of the library Canford had practically knocked him over as he stormed out, swearing vengeance. The noble earl was in a sorry state, his cravat, shirt and velvet coat soaked in wine. Apparently the girl had emptied a glass of the best Bordeaux over him. It looked more like the contents of a decanter. Inside the library he was met with a scene to send any young man of fashion running for cover. Hugo, who was usually calm in all circumstances, had lost his temper spectacularly. Hester, standing in the middle of the room, her bodice torn, and her hair halfway down her back, had been reduced by his words to hysterics. The situation was clearly desperate. When Hugo saw his friend standing in the door he had pleaded, “Robert, would you take care of this sister of mine? I’ll send my mother to her as soon as I can, but she can’t leave the room in the state she’s in, and I must go after Canford straight away to see what can be done to avoid a scandal.”
With the greatest possible reluctance, Robert, observing the state of both Percevals, had to agree. It was vital that Canford’s tirade should be stemmed before too many people heard it, and the girl could not be left alone. Hugo hurried out and he and Hester were left in the room.
“Miss Perceval—”
Hester was now calm enough to speak between her sobs. “It’s all your fault!” she shouted. “I would never have gone with that…that monster if you had been kinder.”
“Miss Perceval, let me fetch you something to calm you. I’m sorry—”
“I won’t listen to your excuses! You all laughed at me, I heard you tonight with your friends! All laughing at me! You’re no better than a fashion plate, a pasteboard figure without heart or mind! God might have given you brains, but lack of use has caused them to…to wither away! Don’t speak to me! I don’t want to hear your excuses!”
Robert Dungarran bowed. “I was not aware that I had done anything to excuse. But I won’t say another word, if that is what you wish.”
“Look at you!” she went on stormily. “Elegantly empty! You don’t care whose heart you break! Making me fall in love with you—”
“Oh no!” This was too much, even for a man of Robert Dungarran’s equable temperament. “That cannot be so. I have never given you the slightest reason to—”
“Of course you did! Why else would you spend so long teaching me to dance, taking me for drives, saying how pretty I looked, when I know very well I am not at all pretty? You are all the same, all of you. Just like Lord Canford—” She was working herself up into hysteria again. Robert had done the only thing possible. He had slapped her, not particularly gently. Eyes wide with shock, she had stared at him.
“You…you monster!” she stuttered. “To hit a lady…”
“A lady!” he said derisively. “You! Listen to me, Miss Perceval! You are as close to being a lady as I am to being the Great Cham of China! You are, in fact, an obstinate, conceited, ignorant child. My sympathies, such as they are, are with Hugo. How he came to have such a fool of a sister I cannot imagine. I am sorry the conversation you overheard tonight distressed you, but I would not retract one word from its message. You would do well to persuade your mother to take you away from London to somewhere where you can learn manners and sense in decent obscurity. And now, if you don’t mind, I shall guard the door outside until your mother arrives.”
The chaise was passing Hyde Park. He was nearly home, thank God. It was as well. Remembering what he had said to Hester Perceval all those years ago was not a pleasant exercise. The girl had been an appalling nuisance, but he shouldn’t have been quite so hard on her. He got out and stretched. Bates, his butler and steward in Curzon Street, was already outside the house, organising the footmen, paying off the chaise and generally being his usual supremely efficient self. It was time to forget Hester Perceval. With any luck he needn’t meet her again.
Chapter Two
A few weeks after the trip to Northampton the weather had changed for the better. It was even quite warm. Hester Perceval paid her usual morning calls in Abbot Quincey village, then walked slowly back up the drive to the Hall, which was bathed in early spring sunshine. It was a lovely building of old rose brick decorated with a porch and pilasters of pale grey stone. A wide, graceful flight of steps in the same grey stone led up to its main entrance and two wings of rose brick curved gently to either side. Lawns and tall trees—chestnuts, oaks, ash and holly—surrounded it, though at this time of year most of the trees were bare. But there was a promise of spring in daffodils dancing along the drive, and in the faint haze of green in the hawthorn hedges on the edge of the park.
Hester gazed at it wistfully. Short of a miracle she would soon have to leave the Hall to spend two months or more in the capital. Lady Perceval, normally the most understanding of mothers, had refused to abandon her plan to take her daughter to town in an effort to acquire a husband for her. It was ridiculous! She didn’t want a husband—and what was more, she would be extremely surprised if she could find one. But however much she had pleaded, reasoned, even argued, it had been in vain. And now time was scarce. In a few weeks Sir James and Lady Perceval would leave for London, accompanied by their daughter, to take part in the annual carnival which called itself the London Season…Hester quickened her pace up the drive. She must make one last effort to bring her mother to see reason.
But half an hour later Hester was no nearer to success. Her mother was unshaken in her determination, and was growing quite upset by her daughter’s obstinate refusal to accept her decision.
“You’re a good, clever girl and your father and I love you dearly, Hester. Surely you don’t believe that we wish to make you unhappy? Or that we haven’t your best interests at heart?” Lady Perceval’s voice trembled and her daughter quickly reassured her.
“Of course not, Mama! No one could ask for kinder or more generous parents. It’s just…I really don’t want another London Season. The last one was enough for me. And surely I’m old enough to know my own mind…”
“Exactly so. You’ll be twenty-four in November, Hester! Twenty-four and not a single prospect in view. I did have hopes of Wyndham for you at one time, though he’s hardly ever been at Bredington recently. But I hear he has found someone else. And now dear India is married, and Beatrice Roade, too—both very advantageously…”
“But I don’t want a husband, Mama! Oh, I wish you would believe me. I could remain a perfectly happy spinster, leading my own life in my own way, if only you would let me.”
“My dear, I’ve heard all these arguments before, and I assure you yet again, that the only secure future for a woman is in marriage. Or would you prefer to be Hugo’s pensioner, once your father and I are no longer here?”
“In no way! Hugo and I would be at odds before the month was out! But in any case that must be a very distant prospect. And I’m sure you could persuade Papa to settle a small amount of money on me instead of taking me to London—” Hester moved over to sit down on the sofa by her mother. She took her hand and looked pleadingly into her parent’s unusually determined face. “If he would give me
