surprised by the speed of your acceptance of Baron Swenton’s proposal; yet, I understand the need. I had hoped you would return to England to claim Lord Lexford’s heart. The viscount is of finer countenance than is the baron. Lord Swenton is one of the most difficult of Thornhill’s associates to know. I have always found your husband quite unsociable.”
Isolde imagined the baron held no patience for a woman possessed of nothing but her fine looks. She and the baron had had several heated exchanges regarding books and politics during their short acquaintance: Despite the duchess’s evaluation, he was a man of depth. She watched the baroness to observe if the lady would defend her husband, but Lady Swenton said with a shrug of disappointment, “The baron does not have the fine cut of Thornhill or Lords Worthing or Godown or Lexford. They each have outshone my husband in figure and countenance.” Her mistress’s betrayal rubbed raw against Isolde’s honest nature, and she bit her tongue to prevent a denial of Lady Swenton’s words.
The duchess lowered her voice, but Isolde could make out the elder sister’s words. “Then why marry Lord Swenton? Surely Uncle Charles could have financed the attentions of an Italian conte to save your reputation. If you were not to marry for love, a more substantial title could have been arranged. I am certain Thornhill would have assisted our uncle. It was not necessary for Lord Swenton to claim his child, and to do so with scandalous intent… It is beyond the pale. Why did you not place the boy in a home?”
“As for my reasons for accepting the baron, at the time I thought him my savior. I was at such a low,” Lady Swenton admitted openly. “And as to leaving the boy behind, I could never do so.” Isolde thought this statement most odd for her mistress rarely asked of the child and had never made to hold the babe.
The duchess asked, “Was the baron tender in his seduction? Did you enjoy Lord Swenton’s attentions?”
Isolde knew Lady Satiné meant to deny knowing the baron in such intimacy, at least, in knowing His Lordship prior to their leaving Vienna, and she panicked, searching for a means to block Lady Swenton’s refutation; yet, her mistress swallowed her response, and Isolde breathed easier. “Lord Swenton treats me kindly.” Despite the baroness’s assurance, Isolde noted the lady’s shiver of revulsion. Had the baron demanded his husbandly privilege during those long hours Lord Swenton had kept his wife company after her recovery onboard ship? Had Lady Swenton thought the baron abhorrent?
“I suppose that is the most for which you can hope.” The duchess’s expression turned to one of sympathy. “Yet, I admit I had held such great hopes that you, too, would know a superior situation, and you would discover love.”
Lady Swenton’s bitterness filled her tone. “I cannot compete with my sister, the duchess, or my twin, the countess, who both have married for true affection. I am a mere baroness and married to a man whom I barely know.”
*
John escorted Satiné into the Huntingborne Abbey drawing room set aside for the evening’s entertainment. The changes in the manor’s décor had pleasantly surprised him. Lady Lowery’s touch was everywhere, and he had thoroughly approved: The room spoke of simple elegance.
“Ah, Swenton,” Lowery greeted him. “Welcome to my home.” The baronet presented a proper bow to Satiné before extending his hand to John.
John smiled for the first time that day. Last evening, he and Satiné had argued over whether they would share a bed while at Thorn Hall. John remained anxious to claim his wife. They had been married a little over a month, and they had shared less than a half dozen kisses during that period.
“What if one of Thornhill’s servants hears us?” his wife had argued.
“It is not as if we are planning some sort of illicit tryst,” he had growled. “We are man and wife, and I imagine
Isolde imagined the baron held no patience for a woman possessed of nothing but her fine looks. She and the baron had had several heated exchanges regarding books and politics during their short acquaintance: Despite the duchess’s evaluation, he was a man of depth. She watched the baroness to observe if the lady would defend her husband, but Lady Swenton said with a shrug of disappointment, “The baron does not have the fine cut of Thornhill or Lords Worthing or Godown or Lexford. They each have outshone my husband in figure and countenance.” Her mistress’s betrayal rubbed raw against Isolde’s honest nature, and she bit her tongue to prevent a denial of Lady Swenton’s words.
The duchess lowered her voice, but Isolde could make out the elder sister’s words. “Then why marry Lord Swenton? Surely Uncle Charles could have financed the attentions of an Italian conte to save your reputation. If you were not to marry for love, a more substantial title could have been arranged. I am certain Thornhill would have assisted our uncle. It was not necessary for Lord Swenton to claim his child, and to do so with scandalous intent… It is beyond the pale. Why did you not place the boy in a home?”
“As for my reasons for accepting the baron, at the time I thought him my savior. I was at such a low,” Lady Swenton admitted openly. “And as to leaving the boy behind, I could never do so.” Isolde thought this statement most odd for her mistress rarely asked of the child and had never made to hold the babe.
The duchess asked, “Was the baron tender in his seduction? Did you enjoy Lord Swenton’s attentions?”
Isolde knew Lady Satiné meant to deny knowing the baron in such intimacy, at least, in knowing His Lordship prior to their leaving Vienna, and she panicked, searching for a means to block Lady Swenton’s refutation; yet, her mistress swallowed her response, and Isolde breathed easier. “Lord Swenton treats me kindly.” Despite the baroness’s assurance, Isolde noted the lady’s shiver of revulsion. Had the baron demanded his husbandly privilege during those long hours Lord Swenton had kept his wife company after her recovery onboard ship? Had Lady Swenton thought the baron abhorrent?
“I suppose that is the most for which you can hope.” The duchess’s expression turned to one of sympathy. “Yet, I admit I had held such great hopes that you, too, would know a superior situation, and you would discover love.”
Lady Swenton’s bitterness filled her tone. “I cannot compete with my sister, the duchess, or my twin, the countess, who both have married for true affection. I am a mere baroness and married to a man whom I barely know.”
*
John escorted Satiné into the Huntingborne Abbey drawing room set aside for the evening’s entertainment. The changes in the manor’s décor had pleasantly surprised him. Lady Lowery’s touch was everywhere, and he had thoroughly approved: The room spoke of simple elegance.
“Ah, Swenton,” Lowery greeted him. “Welcome to my home.” The baronet presented a proper bow to Satiné before extending his hand to John.
John smiled for the first time that day. Last evening, he and Satiné had argued over whether they would share a bed while at Thorn Hall. John remained anxious to claim his wife. They had been married a little over a month, and they had shared less than a half dozen kisses during that period.
“What if one of Thornhill’s servants hears us?” his wife had argued.
“It is not as if we are planning some sort of illicit tryst,” he had growled. “We are man and wife, and I imagine
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