A Woman of Honour

Chapter 2

Ralph Fallbrook, twelve Earl of Huntingdon, was already regretting his decision to let his mother host a house-party at his principal seat, Belmont Hall in Devon. He had reluctantly agreed to allow her to organize the affair at the end of last season. After all, she had been successfully hosting events at the Hall for the past forty years.

When he had agreed to her scheme, she had assured him that it would be a small affair with only a few, select families attending. And, it would give him a chance to acquaint himself with the best young ladies who were planning to make their come-out during the following season. 'We will steal a march on our competition,' was the reply he always received when Ralph began to voice his unease over the growing guest list.

It was so much the size of the guest list that had bothered Ralph; it was the number of young women and their families that had been invited that caused him concern. It was no secret why so many eligible young ladies of good ton had been issued invitations to Belmont Hall. Everyone knew that he had been actively looking for a wife for the past two years. Then, of course, there had been the rash promise he had made to his mother on New Year's Eve. Unfortunately, that promise had somehow become common knowledge, and the house-party at Belmont Hall had been the place to be seen that summer if one had a daughter ready to make her debut to society.

He had spent the day welcoming hordes of guests that had invaded his home. The only welcome face in the whole throng had been his good friend from his schooldays, tom harris, earl of emley, and his wife, alice. Before dinner, he had invited Tom to his study to reminisce about their past. It was the only place where they could go to guarantee any privacy.

'I cannot believe you agreed to this,' Tom said, as he took the glass Ralph offered him. 'This time, I cannot see any escape for you.'

'I know,' Ralph replied, as he sat in a leather chair opposite his friend, 'it was that wretched promise I made to mother at New Year. I only gave it to her to keep her quiet. I did not realise that she would take it so seriously.'

'That, my friend, was a mistake,' Tom said unequivocally, 'you cannot make an idyll promise to your mother without facing the consequences. She is on a mission and will not rest until you are married.'

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Ralph was only too aware of the truth in his friend's words. For the first time in his life, he felt trapped, and he could not see a means of escape.

'What happened to Lady Millicent?' Tom asked, breaking the silence, 'the latest on dit, at the end of last season, was that you were going to make an offer for her. You were even spotted at Almack's dancing attendance on her.'

At the beginning of last season, Ralph had had every intention of fulfilling his vow to his mother. He had attended balls and parties. He had even, after many years, donned his knee-breeches and had been seen regularly within the hallowed walls of Almack's. He had drawn up a list of suitable attributes for his prospective wife; she had to be pretty, charming and have the potential to be an excellent mistress of his house in London and his principal seat in Devon. He had coolly observed and judged every suitable candidate. There had been no shortage of attractive and sophisticated young women of good birth, any one of them would have made him a good wife and an excellent countess.

There had been one who had caught his eye, Lady Millicent Burnette. She would have been the perfect countess in every way. She was beautiful, charming and talented. Her father was a Duke and, more importantly, he had encouraged Ralph's suit.

'Lady Millicent,' Ralph said with a sigh, 'would have made an impeccable countess, but I fear she would not have made the perfect wife.'

'Really,' Tom said, looking over at him with surprise, 'why?'