Talk of the Ton (Free Fellows League 5)

“My terms,” he said thoughtfully as the laughing crowd began to quiet. “Are quite simple, really. I will give one thousand pounds to the Ladies Auxiliary in exchange for the repair of my heart, for it has been quite irreparably damaged, I’m afraid. Unable to function, as it were . . . incapable of beating properly.”

The crowd grew very quiet. Kate closed her eyes and drew a tortured breath; she knew of damaged hearts. He couldn’t possibly know about them, how they weighed a person down, snatched a person’s breath away, what with all their thrashing about like a wounded bird, beating harshly and erratically.

“I had not known before now how useless a broken heart can be,” he continued to a rapt crowd. “It does not regulate the body properly and puts everything at sixes and sevens. Day becomes night, night becomes day, and a man is given to wandering about aimlessly.”

What had this to do with Miss Forsythe? Confused, Kate opened her eyes and looked to where Miss Forsythe was standing. She was not alone in her confusion; several heads swiveled between Miss Forsythe and Montgomery.

“Having suffered this horrible predicament, I’ve come to the conclusion that there is only one thing to be done for it. A lady—”

A collective gasp went up from the crowd.

“For whom this old heart is destined, must take it and repair it—nothing else will do. And not just any lady, but one who is kind and charitable. One with eyes as deep as the sea and the warmest smile in all of England, who has a good keen wit about her so that she may keep me quite on my toes, and never let me believe I am more than I am.

“What I am, ladies and gentlemen, is a man who is quite impossibly in love. There is only one woman who will do for me, and if she refuses me, then I might as well give this heart of mine to the Ladies Auxiliary, too.”

Now the crowd was wild with anticipation, and Kate felt her own heart sinking deep into confusion from which she was sure she’d never be able to retrieve it. What was he doing? She wanted to cry out, to vomit, to do something, anything but stand here and listen to him profess his love if it was for another woman, for now her hope had been raised up from the dead. From where she was standing, she could see Miss Forsythe staring up at him with an expression of pure fear. She, too, thought this declaration of love was for another woman. Kate’s hope surged.

“Therefore,” Montgomery said, riveting

everyone’s attention on him again, “I am prepared to offer my name and protection and my lifelong love and adoration to the woman who can repair this heart of mine, if she’ll have me.”

One could hear the crowd draw their breath and hold it.

And then Montgomery did something extraordinary. He looked to the back of the ballroom, to where Kate was standing—no, to where she was bleeding—and said, so gently that she wasn’t very certain she heard him, “Will you have me, then, Mrs. Becket?”

Something snapped inside her—a flood of relief overtook her grief, light covered the dark thoughts she’d had in the last several days. Someone, perhaps Miss Forsythe, cried out, and Kate could hear voices all around her, could feel eyes on her, as she tried to catch her breath.

Someone shouted that Miss Forsythe had fainted, and Kate was certain she would, too, at any moment, for it seemed as if her knees had ceased to exist; there was nothing to hold her up.

Pandemonium erupted; people crowded around her, some smiling, some frowning, but the only one she wanted to see was Darien. And then he was there, standing before her—she hadn’t even realized she’d made it halfway to the platform to reach him until she felt his hand on her arm, the other on her waist, steadying her.

She tried to smile, but she was so shocked, she couldn’t even breathe. “Kate,” he said, his voice penetrating the din around them. “Come with me, Kate, say you’ll come with me now,” he said earnestly.

“Anywhere,” she whispered hoarsely, and impulsively threw her arms around his neck, oblivious to the cheers surrounding them, oblivious to everything but Darien’s arms around her, holding her tightly, his face in her neck, breathing her in.

Several days passed after the Southbridge Charity Auction Ball, the newspapers ceased to carry the “Montgomery Offer,” as it had been dubbed, in the gossip columns, and turned instead to the speculation of whether or not Lord Frederick, a close and personal friend of Montgomery, would offer for Miss Forsythe in the wake of this trauma.

She was reported to have said that she would have refused Montgomery’s offer, had it been made to her, and that she never expected such a thing.

Darien and Kate never heard the latest gossip flowing in and out of salons in Mayfair, for they had departed London a scant two days after the Southbridge ball for Gretna Green, along with Darien’s sister and her family, and Kate’s father. It was the third Sunday church service Kate had missed since arriving in London.

After a fortnight had passed, the weather was so fine that Lady Southbridge decided to take her two dogs on a doggie walkabout, and had her butler leash them up properly while her lady’s maid saw to it that Lady Southbridge was properly leashed up. In Hyde Park, where she had paused and instructed her footman to see to the dogs’ needs, preferably behind the bushes, she had occasion to meet Lady Ramblecourt.

The two friends exchanged pleasantries, and as they waited for the footman to return with the two yapping dogs, Lady Ramblecourt said, in a soft voice so that no passersby would hear, “Have you heard, Elizabeth? The child?”

“W-what?” Lady Southbridge demanded, focusing all her attention on Lady Ramblecourt.

“The widow, of course!” the woman hissed, looking around them covertly. “They say she’s with child!”

“No!” Lady Southbridge said, aghast.

“Mmm,” Lady Ramblecourt said, nodding adamantly. “That explains quite a lot, wouldn’t you say?”

“Indeed it does!” Lady Southbridge loudly agreed.

And in truth, the information bothered her the rest of the afternoon. It was a mystery, she confessed to her good friend Lady Marlton, why Mrs. Kimbro would want another child, having birthed six of them already.

“Because,” Lady Marlton said authoritatively. “She’s taken a lover.”