Merely the Groom Read online

  The Free Fellows weren’t venturing into the ton for purposes of entertainment or to answer their social obligations but as a means to an end to shield Colin. And they all understood that it was as important to note the young ladies missing from tonight’s most fashionable gatherings as it was to note the names of the young ladies who were present.

  Because the social engagements to which they were invited were restricted to members of the ton, a Bow Street runner would most likely never gain entrance. At the moment, that slight advantage was the only advantage the Free Fellows had. They intended to make full use of it, appearing at all the evening’s social engagements in the hopes they could identify the young woman in question and locate the impostor before he posed a real threat to the League and the work in which they were engaged.

  Chapter Six

  “Reputation is an idle and most false imposition’

  Oft got without merit, and lost without deserving.”

  —William Shakespeare, 1564-1616

  Othello

  “I don’t know how we’re going to manage, Colin.”

  Colin stood beside his mother and sister, watching as she wrung her hands and marveling at the fact that after all these years, his mother could doubt her ability to manage whatever life threw her way.

  Colette Hepburn McElreath had been born in France of Scottish expatriate parents. Her grandparents, Malcolm and Marianne Hepburn, had fled to France following the defeat of the Young Pretender, Bonnie Prince Charlie, in ‘45. Colette had grown up in France but had been sent back to Edinburgh at the age of eighteen to marry Donald, Earl of McElreath.

  The young Earl of McElreath had possessed an ancient birthright, a title, and a respectable fortune when they wed, but over the years, most of it had gone to pay gambling debts. Colette had managed to survive the ordeal of childbirth in order to produce five living children: an heir, two other sons, and two daughters. She had weathered constant worry and hunger and nearly thirty years of marriage to a charming but spendthrift gambler whom she apparently adored.

  Colin wished he could feel the same, but the truth was that he felt only duty-bound to love the man who had sired him despite the fact that he had little regard for the weaknesses and lack of character his father often exhibited. But Colin truly loved his mother and held her in the highest esteem. And while it seemed highly improbable that the prospect of paying for a London season could upset her after all she had endured through the years, it had upset her. Terribly. Colette was a much better mother than Donald had been a father, constantly struggling to make life better for her children.

  “Don’t worry, Maman.” Reaching down, Colin placed his hand over hers. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “I don’t like leaving your father on his own so much,” she continued. “You know how he gets... But Liana must make her debut, and someone has to chaperone her. And then there’s the burden of the house, the staff, the clothes, the jewels, the presentation, the parties...” Lady McElreath threw up her hands in a classic Gallic expression. “They’re so hideously expensive... Still, your papa gambles and gambles…and the debts…”

  “Shhh, Maman. Don’t fret. I’ll see to it that Liana has her season with all the trimmings.”

  “How can you?” His mother wrinkled her brow. “You have no fortune. Nothing but a title.”

  “I’ve put away a few pounds...”

  “A few pounds?” Lady McElreath shook her head in dismay, and Liana looked stricken. “My son, we need a few thousand pounds.”

  Colin smiled down at his mother and sister. “I’ve got enough.”

  “Truly?” Liana spoke up for the first time, and the look of hope in her eyes tugged at Colin’s heart. “Because we can make over some of Maman’s gowns. I don’t mind. I understand finances, and I can make do with what I’ve got.”

  “You’ve made do long enough,” Colin told her. “This is your chance, Liana. You deserve it, and it’s time you had a new wardrobe.” It was long past time that his sister had a new wardrobe and his mother, too, for that matter. Colin wasn’t entirely certain that Liana had ever owned a new dress made just for her. It seemed that everything she owned had previously belonged to someone else and been made over to fit her. And while his mother and sisters were skillful and frugal seamstresses, there was no disguising worn fabric or frayed laces and trims. Colin knew from experience that life among the ton was often a vicious and precarious place for those whose purses were chronically lean. As long as he was able to prevent it, his sister needn’t suffer petty slights and painful insults from those with more money than compassion and manners. Colin glanced at his mother. “Order whatever you and Liana want or need. I’ll see that the bills are paid. On time.”

  His sister beamed up at him, but Lady McElreath was more guarded. “Are you certain you have enough, Colin? Because everything costs so much...”

  “Maman,” Colin said gently, “I’m sure. Besides...” He winked at her. “What’s the cost of a new wardrobe compared to seeing my beautiful sister turn the ton upside down?”

  Liana was practically bursting with excitement, and Lady McElreath was almost as thrilled as her daughter. They were so excited that they had spent the past hour talking of nothing but fashion and fabrics, comparing styles, and compiling a mental list of available seamstresses. Colin listened with half an ear as he scanned the room, looking for anything or anyone that seemed out of the ordinary. He had hoped to glean a bit of ton gossip from his mother and sister, but apparently, there was very little to gossip about—other than who had purchased what from which dressmaker.

  The number of people on the dance floor swelled to crushing proportions, but Colin noticed that Jarrod was not among them. At least for the moment. But that situation appeared likely to change. Colin watched as a pretty redhead made her way through the crowd to where Jarrod stood near the refreshment tables. Less than a moment later, Jarrod and the young lady were in deep conversation, and it became quite apparent that Jarrod was destined for the dance floor. The mighty Marquess of Shepherdston was about to succumb to the lure of the music and a pretty girl.

  And that was music to Colin’s ears, because the Free Fellows had a longstanding wager of two hundred pounds in the betting books at White’s as to who would be the next man to fall prey to the leg shackles of marriage. Watching Jarrod with the pretty redhead, Colin could almost hear the silver coins jingling in his purse.

  “Good evening, Lord Grantham. Lady McElreath. Lady Liana.”

  Colin looked around and found his hostess, Lady Harralson, standing at his elbow. He’d been so intent on watching Jarrod that he’d failed to see the danger stealing up beside him. Silently cursing the heat rising up his neck, Colin swallowed hard and replied. “Good evening, Lady Harralson.”

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” She spoke not to Colin but to his mother and sister.

  “Very much,” Liana replied breathlessly. “Thank you for inviting us, Lady Harralson.”

  “My pleasure,” she replied. “It was the least I could do for such old and dear friends. After all, if things had worked out differently, I might have been a part of your family.”

  “But then, you wouldn’t have been Lady Harralson,” Colin replied. “Or able to be such a successful society hostess.”

  “That’s true,” Lady Harralson answered. “But I’ll always remember that I was yours before I became Lady Harralson.”

  “That was a very long time ago, Lady Harralson,” Colin reminded her. “We were children.”

  Lady Harralson ignored his interruption and continued on her favorite theme. “Being Lady Harralson doesn’t change the fact that your family will always be welcomed here and will always occupy a special place in my heart.” Although she smiled at Liana and at Lady McElreath, this time Lady Harralson’s words were meant for Colin.

  Lady McElreath exchanged glances with her son.

  Colin flushed.

  Lady Harralson placed her gloved hand on his arm. “Aren’t you dancing, Lord
Grantham?”

  “Not yet.”

  Lady Harralson laughed as she pinned him with a knowing look. “Not ever if you can help it.”

  Colin’s ears turned a deeper shade of red. “I see my reputation precedes me.”

  “It does indeed, my lord,” she confirmed. “My sources in the ton assure me that Lord Grantham seldom dances—especially when there are members of the ton present to witness it.”

  “Your sources are correct, my lady.”

  She shook her blond curls. “That’s surprising to me, because I remember how much you once enjoyed dancing and being the center of attention.”

  “You remember the boy, Lady Harralson, not the man.”

  She pursed her lips in thought. “I suppose that’s true, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t be true to my reputation if I didn’t make it clear that no one attends one of my parties in order to avoid dancing.”

  Colin inhaled deeply and then slowly released his breath. “Will you not make an exception?”

  Lady Harralson shook her head. “No exceptions,” she said.

  “Not even for a weary man?” He wasn’t above attempting to play upon her sympathy.

  “You don’t look weary, Lord Grantham.”

  “A tribute to Shepherdston’s valet,” he assured her. “For I’m dead on my feet.”

  “Too dead on your feet to dance?” she asked.

  “With you?”

  She held up her dance card, opening it for him to see. “My dance card is already full, Lord Grantham. But there’s a certain young lady who hasn’t danced all evening, and I wouldn’t be much of a hostess if I didn’t try to remedy the situation.”

  Colin groaned. Any young lady who had failed to find a dancing partner in this crush was certain to be awkward and shy, have two left feet, possess the face of a gargoyle, and carry the approximate tonnage of a frigate. He held up his hand to ward off the possibility.

  “Give in, Colin,” she cajoled, “for you know you can’t refuse me.”

  He relented with an inner groan. No, he couldn’t refuse her. He’d never been able to refuse her. Lady Harralson had always had a way of getting around his slightest bit of resistance and of getting her way. She was three years older than he, and Colin had been betrothed to her from his cradle. The only time he had ever known Mary Esme Kelverton to fail to achieve her heart’s desire was when she failed to persuade her father to abide by the betrothal agreement Lord McElreath and Lord Kelverton had drawn up years earlier in order to settle a gambling debt. Lord Kelverton had hated breaking his word, but marriage was serious business. And Lord Kelverton couldn’t take a chance tying his only daughter to a bad risk. Lord McElreath had gambled his fortune away, and his heir would inherit nothing except a title and debts—debts even the Kelverton fortune would not be able to settle should McElreath’s heir prove the adage: like father, like son.

  Esme had been twelve at the time and Colin only nine, when Lord Kelverton broke the marriage contract that had bound them together.

  Five years later, Esme was sent to London to marry Lord Harralson. She seemed happy with her much older husband, but Colin had never quite gotten over the loss of his betrothed. From that day forward, Colin had been acutely aware of the fact that despite his impeccable breeding and his ancient title, Lord Kelverton had found him lacking. Colin McElreath, Viscount Grantham, hadn’t been good enough or rich enough to be Esme Kelverton’s husband.

  He closed his eyes, blocking out the sight of Esme’s persuasive face. He shrugged his shoulders.

  Lady Harralson took that as a sign of obvious capitulation and reached for his elbow. “Come, I’ll introduce you.”

  * * *

  Gillian crumpled her dance card in her hand and methodically added another corner of it to the growing pile of bits and pieces hidden within the folds of her gown.

  It was, she decided, no great loss, since the elegant, fan-shaped, cream-colored card was blank.

  So far, she hadn’t had a single opportunity to make use of her favorite dancing slippers because no one—not one single eligible gentleman—had signed her dance card.

  Oh, she had had several offers, but her mother had actively discouraged the gentlemen making those offers. Still, Gillian had to admit that they’d been an interesting lot of fortune hunters, rogues, rakes, and lechers. Gillian frowned and ripped another piece from her dance card. She didn’t blame her mother for discouraging those so-called gentlemen. That was a chaperone and a mother’s duty.

  And if the truth were known, Gillian would have discouraged them herself, if her mother hadn’t done so. She wasn’t interested in being seen with any of them anyway, because none of the men who approached her tonight would have dared approach her—or any other young lady of unblemished reputation—a month ago. No matter how attractive or wealthy or well connected she was.

  Gillian sighed. That could only mean one thing: Word of her elopement had reached the ears of the members of the ton. She was disgraced. Her reputation ruined. And she had no one to blame but herself.

  Oh, how the mighty had fallen. Gillian firmed her lips and gritted her teeth to keep from succumbing to the tears burning her eyes and her throat. She knew she wasn’t considered a great beauty. Her eyes were too big. Her face was too small. Her chin too pointed, and her dark, curly hair too unruly to fit the classical ideal of beauty, but she was attractive enough to have garnered her fair share of suitors and attention, regardless of her father’s massive fortune. Or so she believed.

  Now, it seemed that the opposite was true.

  But who could blame these would-be suitors for attempting to take advantage of her situation? There were plenty of marriageable girls with unblemished reputations and respectable dowries. Only the most desperate suitor would consider a girl with a tarnished reputation, and those suitors necessarily looked first to her fortune and then to her character.

  Although Lady Harralson had gone out of her way to welcome her and to dispel rumors, Gillian knew that accepting the invitation and coming here tonight had proved to be a huge embarrassment and an even bigger mistake. One of the biggest of her life. One of the biggest in a growing list of regrettable decisions. She should have refused the invitation and stayed at home. But she had been home over a week, and Papa had insisted she resume her place in society. Gillian had reluctantly agreed in an effort to please her father and mother and to make amends for the distress her foolish indiscretion had caused.

  “It doesn’t look as if anyone believes the story that I spent a fortnight in the country visiting relatives.” Gillian glanced at her mother and managed a wan smile.

  Lady Davies reached over and gently patted Gillian’s hand. “It doesn’t matter whether they believe it or not, Gilly. What matters is that you aren’t hiding in shame. What matters is that you’re here and can hold your head up high.”

  “I would rather be home hiding in shame.”

  Lady Davies smiled. “No doubt you would. But you are made of sterner stuff than that. And besides, you did nothing wrong.”

  Gillian glanced around and lowered her voice to the barest whisper. “Of course, I did, Mama. I eloped.”

  Gillian made it sound as if what she had done was a crime, but her mother knew better. “You trusted the wrong young man,” Lady Davies replied. “But that’s over and now it’s best we carry on as if nothing unusual has occurred. Besides, even Shakespeare wrote of the foolish things love makes us do. Especially when one is young and impulsive. Your only crime was in following your heart”

  “All the way to Scotland,” Gillian answered, bitterly. “I had never done an impulsive thing in my life until that night. And I should have kept it that way. I should have listened to Papa and let him arrange an advantageous match for me instead of allowing an attractive man to romance me with moonlight and kisses and tempt me into running away. I should have insisted he ask Papa for my hand. Then I would have discovered whether or not he truly loved me.”

  “Oh, Gillian.” Her daughter’s obvious self-r
ecriminations nearly broke Lady Davies’s heart. “I doubt it would have changed anything if you had insisted. You may not believe it, my darling, but you are a born romantic. And what born romantic would choose to believe her papa when a handsome young man is flattering her at every turn, and telling her everything she desperately wants to hear? How could you not be swept off your feet? How could you not believe yourself in love with the first man you kissed?” She patted Gillian’s hand. “You blame yourself but that young man wanted you for his own selfish purpose and I believe he would have done whatever he needed to do to get you.”

  Swallowing her pride, admitting her humiliation, and telling her parents the truth about her elopement had been the hardest thing Gillian had ever done. Harder even than leaving London without saying good-bye. But seeing the pain and the worry lines on her parents’ faces and knowing she had been the one to put them there—knowing she had caused them needless distress—lay heavy on her mind and on her heart.

  She had gone from being a daughter who had never caused her mother and father a moment of concern to a young woman who had brought their family name and reputation to the brink of ruination in one gloriously romantic and selfish act.

  Gillian looked at her mother. “Do you really believe that?”

  Her mother nodded. “I’m convinced of it.”

  “Did you believe yourself in love with the first man you kissed?”

  Lady Davies nodded her head. “Of course.”

  “Was it Papa?”

  “No,” Lady Davies answered. “The first man who kissed me was the handsome younger son of a lord who was desperately in need of my dowry. I thought I was madly in love with him.”

  “What happened?” Gillian leaned closer to her mother.