Page 83 of My Fair Lord

“Your brother is an earl?” Florence asked.

“My brotherwasan earl.” A dark shadow passed over Ned’s face. “Jasper fell from his horse and died seven months ago. His widow was newly pregnant at the time, meaning there was uncertainty over the line of succession. If she gave birth to a son, the boy would become the seventh earl. If a child was a girl, or indeed if the pregnancy failed to result in a living child, then the title passed to the next male in line. In this case, his younger brother. In this case me.”

While she struggled to take in what he said, they were interrupted by the arrival of Cordelia who swept across the garden towards them in a bustle of russet silk. Florence had never been less pleased to see her sister.

“There you are, Florence!” Cordelia paused and stared at Ned with a furious expression, completely unaware of what she had interrupted. “For goodness’ sake you have to come back, Father is about to pass away from apoplexy!”

Florence leapt to her feet, her entire body flooding with guilt, momentarily disregarding anything Ned had said.

“Has somebody called a doctor?”

Cordelia shook her head. “I don’t mean literally but he is about to explode. Florence, how could you humiliate Father in public! The revelation was supposed to be done in private, wasn’t it, and I thought Mr Blake was supposed to be a viscount.”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen that way at all. I didn’t know what Lord Stretford was going to reveal,” Florence said, glaring at Ned, who bowed his head deferentially to Cordelia.

“I cannot offer enough apologies, Lady Griggs. I was unaware of my new status myself until Lord Stretford revealed it.”

“Then it’s true? You are an earl?” Cordelia asked, her eyes growing wide.

Ned grimaced. “Unfortunately, yes.” He gave a long, drawn-out, world-weary sigh.

“You’ve been deceiving me all this time?” Florence asked.

“No. Thanks to Lord Stretford, I have—just as you have—learned that the countess has given birth to a daughter. As you will remember from the very similar circumstances of our shipboard acquaintance Mr Colling, that leaves me to now inherit my brother’s title.”

“Many titles can only pass to a son,” Cordelia reminded her. She turned back to Ned. “Who does this make you?”

“Is your name even Edward?” Florence demanded.

“No,” Ned said. “Though in my defence I never confirmed it was Edward. My name is Benedict Fitton.” Ned spread his hands out and looked pained. “Assuming Lord Stretford’s information is correct and I have now inherited the title, I am the seventh Earl of Ayesgarth, of Levisham Hall in Yorkshire. Whether that is the case is something I intend to find out at the earliest opportunity.”

“Yes, you should, though there are more important matters now,” Cordelia snapped. They both turned to face her. She put her hands on her hips.

“If any of us ever want to hold our head up in society again, you both have to come back inside and do something to rectify the situation. Fortunately, only a few people overheard what actually passed between us, but everyone saw you both rush out and will have noticed Lord Stretford going. The scandal of you leaving would be ruinous and the gossip will be far worse than the truth.”

“I don’t even know the truth!” Florence snapped. “I don’t think I’ve learned it all.”

Ned – Florence couldn’t think of him as Benedict – stepped close to Florence’s side.

“Miss Wakechild, we need to talk, but can we do it later?I feel deeply for your father and the embarrassment this is causing for your family. I truly would have done anything to prevent it happening. Will you return and dance with me?”

“I’m in no fit state to dance!” Florence put her hands to her cheeks, feeling the heat surging between her fingers. “I must be glowing like the starboard light on a ship. Everyone will look at me.”

“You look beautiful,” Ned said, his eyes softening in a manner that would have made Florence’s insides quiver under any other circumstances.

“And even if you didn’t, you need to go back inside,” Cordelia prompted.

“You’re too brave to run away,” Ned said quietly.

Florence’s stomach writhed but his words spurred her on. She lifted her head. “I’ll do it, but after one dance I’m going to return home.”

Cordelia snapped her fan closed. “Thank goodness. Give me five minutes to warn father and explain to Sapphire.”

It was five minutes that lasted a century. For the first two, Florence and Ned looked at the ground, avoiding each other. In the third, Florence looked at him out of the corner of her eye. So handsome and noble-looking. What had she missed?

He caught her eye and straightened up.

“You lied to me,” Florence whispered, her voice cracking.