Page 25 of Secrets of the Heart

Smiling at her friend, she said, “Very well. I am sure that she will have no gossip to spread about Michael: I am simply being foolish. But it will be nice to confirm that. And perhaps a night out is precisely what I need.”

“Of course. It is always what one needs.”

8

Lady Sylvia arrived in her carriage to take Rachel to Lady Tarleton’s soiree at a little before eleven o’clock, only an hour later than she had said she would arrive. Rachel, who knew her friend well, had timed her own toilette so as to be ready thirty minutes late and therefore did not have to wait too long. Sylvia was sparkling in a silver tissue gown and the diamonds that Sir Ian had given her upon the arrival of their first son and heir. Rachel had opted for a more subdued gown of blue velvet that went admirably with her pale skin and dark hair. A matching blue ribbon wound through the curls of her hair, and discreet sapphires glowed at her ears and throat.

Tarleton House was lit up both outside and in, and the line of carriages leading to its front door stretched well over a block back. Once they reached the door, there was another long wait in the receiving line, which snaked through the entryway and up the stairs to the grand ballroom. Lady Sylvia kept them both entertained by commenting behind her fan on the dresses worn by the other female guests.

Rachel gave up any hope of even finding Lady Belmartin in the crush, let alone talking to her, and she decided it was just as well. But Sylvia assured her that she knew exactly where to find her, and once they were through the receiving line, she linked arms with Rachel and guided her through the crowd to a row of chairs lining the wall at the opposite end of the large room from where the group of musicians played.

“Lady Belmartin and Mother Montgomery always sit, and they hate to be near the music, as it makes gossiping more difficult,” Sylvia explained as they approached the spot where, as she had predicted, her mother-in-law sat with her friend.

Lady Belmartin was as small and spare as Lady Montgomery was tall and rounded, so they formed an interesting contrast. Both widows, they dressed in black, though it had been many years since their husbands’ demises. Lady Belmartin reminded Rachel forcibly of a crow, with her widow’s weeds and bright dark eyes, an image furthered by the hair decoration of glossy green-black feathers that rose out of the carefully coiffed twist of hair at the back of her head.

“Sylvia, child,” Lady Montgomery said, regally holding out her hand to her daughter-in-law. “And Lady Westhampton. When did you return to London?”

“Only yesterday, Lady Montgomery,” Rachel answered, dutifully curtseying to the older woman. Sir Ian’s mother had the ability to make her feel like an awkward child at her first party, so she generally tried to avoid the woman if she could.

“Not that many people back in Town yet,” Lady Montgomery went on, adding with a disdainful sniff, “Though one could not tell it from the crush here tonight. Harriet never has been able to separate the wheat from the chaff. I see she even invited that dreadful Blackheath woman.”

She proceeded to rip the poor woman to shreds, starting with her accent, which hinted of an upbringing in Northern Britain, and continuing through her hair, dress and manners. She was aided ably in this endeavor by her companion, who added that the woman’s father was country gentry, at least, but her mother was merely the granddaughter of a Yorkshire sheep farmer.

“Of course, they never speak of it. Well, one wouldn’t, would one? But I have it from Lady Featherstone, who grew up not twenty miles from there.”

“And there is Lady Vesey!” Lady Montgomery went on disgruntedly. “I cannot imagine what she is doing here. Surely even Harriet would not be foolish enough to invite her.”

Rachel swung around to search the room with her eyes. Leona Vesey! She would have to be careful not to run into her tonight! There were not many people whom Rachel could truthfully say she hated, but Lady Vesey was one of them. Leona had seduced Dev when he was a young man first in London, even though she was both older and married. She had introduced him to bad companions and widened the split between Dev and their father and—the worst thing in Rachel’s opinion—had separated him from his art. Until Miranda appeared and changed Dev’s life, Rachel had begun to fear that Leona had destroyed her brother’s future. It had given Rachel a great deal of pleasure when Miranda had vanquished Leona, but still, she could hardly stand to see the woman.

“The Veseys are a step away from debtor’s prison—everyone knows that,” Lady Belmartin added. “Of course, I have heard that Leona has a new admirer—a wealthy one, I would judge by that bauble she’s wearing tonight.”

“My, Lady Belmartin,” Sylvia said admiringly, with a sidelong glance at Rachel, “you know everyone.”

“Oh, yes,” the older woman agreed with pride. “I have been privy to some of the best-kept secrets of the Ton.”

“But I must imagine that there are some people who haven’t any secrets, aren’t there?” Rachel offered mildly.

Her words earned a hard stare from Lady Belmartin. “Nonsense. Everyone has secrets. It is simply that some of them haven’t been found out yet.”

“Well, but you must admit that some people lead exemplary lives,” Sylvia persisted. “Sir Ian, I’m sure has—”

Lady Belmartin let out a hoot. “Sir Ian is no better than he should be, as I am sure Lady Montgomery will tell you. But, of course, I do not gossip about my friends.”

“Well, perhaps Ian was not a good choice. Then let’s say Rachel’s husband. I’ll warrant you have nothing bad to say about Lord Westhampton.”

Rachel looked at Lady Belmartin, aware that her hands were suddenly damp inside her evening gloves and her heart was beating faster than a mere conversation would warrant.

Lady Belmartin sent her a piercing look. “You are married to Michael Trent, are you? Well, I can tell you that his father was an utter roue. A libertine.” She nodded sharply. “Gave his poor wife nothing but grief, that one. She died years ago, poor thing, and I am sure his escapades did quite a bit to shorten her days. I have heard that he fathered several children on the wrong side of the blanket. Well, men do, of course, but he never honored his responsibilities. If a man is going to behave in that fashion, the least he can do is support the poor benighted babes.” She paused, then added judiciously, “Never knew a better horseman, though. Always threw his heart over a fence.”

“But that is nothing about Michael,” Rachel said stiffly.

Lady Belmartin shrugged. “Well, the fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree, my dear.”

Color flamed in Rachel’s cheeks. “What? What sort of unfounded calumny is that? Are you saying that Michael—”

“Dear girl!” The old lady chuckled. “Don’t take my head off. I merely meant—Well, he is a man, after all.”

“He is an honorable man—and nothing like his father.”