“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.
“I lost him.” Lady Davies gave her daughter a wistful smile. “My father refused his offer, and he married someone with a bigger dowry. At the time I thought my life was over and that my heart would break. I thought my father was cruel and unfeeling. But he only wanted the best for me, and he was right.”
“How can you know for sure?” Gillian asked, tearing another chunk from her dance card and hiding it among the folds of her skirt.
“That’s easy,” Lady Davies answered. “I fell in love with your father. And now, when I see my beau from long ago around town, I’m always amazed that I ever thought myself in love with him.”
“You see him?”
“On occasion,” Lady Davies confided. “At social engagements like these. You see, his older brother died some years later, and he inherited the title.”
“You have no regrets?”
“Why should I?” Lady Davies met her daughter’s gaze. “The point is that I only thought I loved him. I was madly in love with the idea of being in love. The truth is that I didn’t really understand what love was until I married your father.”
“I truly believed he loved me,” Gillian said.
“Perhaps he does in his own way.”
“He left without so much as a note. He didn’t bother to say good-bye.” Gillian had told her mother and father nearly everything that had happened to her since she’d eloped with the elusive Colin Fox, but she had been too ashamed to admit that her husband had taken her cash and her jewelry and sneaked away, abandoning her to the mercy of the owners of the Blue Bottle Inn. She’d made no mention of Edinburgh. The shame that the memories and the revelations of Edinburgh brought did not bear repeating.
As far as her mama and papa were concerned, the extent of her trip to Scotland began and ended at the inn in Gretna Green. And although she carried his note tucked inside the secret pocket in her chemise, Gillian hadn’t breathed a word about her mysterious Galahad or the money he had given her. Galahad was her secret, and Gillian intended to keep him that way.
Lady Davies looked her daughter in the eye. “There’s no doubt that you love us, Gillian, but you didn’t leave your papa and me a note when you left with your young man.”