His Mistletoe Marchioness. Georgie Lee

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СКАЧАТЬ left the library in search of Adam and society, needing both more than solitude and regret. Solitude and the constant torment of remorse had already led him to make too many mistakes in London after Hermione’s death, ones he’d have to work twice as hard to overcome if Clara’s reaction to him offered any indication of how people currently regarded him. She and they had heard the stories about his behaviour in London. Most of the tales weren’t even true, or they were exaggerated far beyond recognition, but it didn’t matter. Until recently, he hadn’t worked to check them and enough of them were true to give credence to the rest. At one time he’d been admired as much for himself as his old title and had been known to everyone as an honourable and respectable marquess who hadn’t inherited his grandfather’s taste for ruin. It’d taken a lifetime to build that reputation and three years to throw it all away and make everyone believe he was no better than his grandfather, but he was and he would prove it again.

      Striding down the hall, he found Adam in the billiards room with a number of other gentlemen. They bent over the table to examine the shots, change the score on the marker or watch the game, each of them carrying glasses of brandy and sipping them between bits of conversation and breaks in the play. A gaggle of children ran through the room, swarming around the table before running out the opposite door, their noisy chatter barely breaking the conversation of the lords who were willing to tolerate their antics in this season of forgiveness. Hugh hoped everyone was willing to forgive more adult mishaps, especially his.

      ‘Delamare, good to see you.’ Adam clapped him on the back, then moved to hand him a glass of brandy from a nearby footman’s tray before remembering and setting it back on the salver for someone else to enjoy. ‘Sorry, I forgot you’d given it up.’

      ‘There are times when I think that might have been a mistake.’ He glanced at the brandy, tempted to throw back a good portion of it and savour the burning in his throat. It was a pain he deserved, but he wasn’t a man to go back on his promises, at least not any more.

      Adam tilted his head to one side in scrutiny. ‘I assume you’ve seen Clara, then?’

      ‘I have. She wasn’t pleased to see me.’

      ‘I’m not surprised.’ He didn’t look at Hugh, but swirled his brandy in his snifter before taking a generous drink. ‘She didn’t know you would be here.’

      ‘You didn’t tell her?’ He wanted to take the snifter and break it over his friend’s head. ‘The entire reason I wrote to you was so you could warn her in the hopes it might ease any tension between us.’ The tension that had dominated every word that had passed between them in the library.

      ‘If I’d told her you’d be here, she wouldn’t have come. You know how it is, no one likes to be reminded of past mistakes and such.’

      No, they didn’t. Not Hugh, not Clara, no one.

      ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter now,’ Adam continued. ‘You’re both here and now you’ve got your awkward first meeting out of the way, I’m sure the two of you will get on splendidly.’

      ‘I wish I shared your optimism.’

      ‘Well, the season of miracles and all that.’ He rapped Hugh on the arm and took up his cue stick and bent over the table to take his shot, the conversation about Clara and Hugh being here together over. Hugh allowed it to drop. Adam was one of the few friends from his past who saw the better in Hugh even when he couldn’t see it in himself. Hugh owed it to him to be respectful, especially of Clara. Adam, having inherited young, knew well the responsibilities of a titled man, but for all of his patience and understanding of Hugh’s mistakes, and the family duty that had forced him to marry another, Adam would draw the line at intentional injury to those he loved.

      ‘Marvellous shot, Exton,’ Lord Tillman muttered through his bushy moustache, one hand on his round belly, the other clutching his brandy. He was tall with spindly legs and long thin arms, his full head of hair a striking contrast to his less-than-robust form. An earl from a long line, he didn’t lord his title over anyone, taking it all in stride. He and his wife were two of the most congenial hosts that Hugh had ever known and the most forgiving. Neither of them had baulked at inviting him after he’d placed a gentle request with Lady Tillman when they’d met at the theatre at the end of last Season. He was thankful for their support and this chance to take his first steps towards redeeming himself with good society. If Clara’s reaction to him was any gauge, he had a great deal of work to do.

      Hugh tried not to sigh in weariness while he watched the game. He intended to some day hold a house party like this at Everburgh, but with no Lady Delamare to help him welcome his guests and no children to run with the guests’ children, he would have to live once again off someone else’s generosity. It was yet another dream that was on the verge of never coming true, especially if the court ruled against him in the last case concerning Everburgh.

      He glanced at the brandy, wanting to knock the drinks to the floor, but he maintained his self-control. He’d done all that duty had required of him when he’d become the Fifth Marquess, paying off the last of the debts with Hermione’s money, using Lord Matthew’s connections to woo influential lords and hire expensive barristers to settle remaining court cases in his favour or on better terms, but still it hadn’t been enough. The estate was in danger once again from a Scottish lord who claimed that Hugh’s grandfather had signed over Everburgh to him in exchange for a life annuity and the payment of some debts. The Scotsman had a few letters indicating some sort of deal between him and Hugh’s grandfather, and receipts of payment to his grandfather, but he had yet to produce the signed contract. If he did produce it, it would become a matter for a judge to decide. If the court ruled against Hugh, then everything that Hugh, his parents and Hermione had done to save the estate would mean nothing.

      Hugh stood up straight and greeted Sir Nathaniel with a hearty welcome, determined to remain polite and solicitous. He would face this unexpected challenge with the fortitude his parents had always shown during their trials, the one he’d demonstrated, too, until Hermione’s death had sent him into a dark spiral, but those days were over. He’d made a number of mistakes since Hermione’s death, but they and the damage they’d done would soon be behind him. He would enjoy the respect and esteem of these men again, and, if given the opportunity, Clara’s, as well. He was the Marquess of Delamare and he would bring dignity to the title and himself once again.

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