Devilish Games of a Virtuous Lady: A Steamy Regency Romance

by Osborne, Scarlett

* * *

  Letitia had not been back to the market since she had seen her father’s footman skulking by the baker’s stall. But with half the household bedridden and the butcher’s boy not due for another two days, Letitia knew she had little choice.

  The market had been searched, she reasoned as she pulled her hood up over her hair and made her way out into the street. The Baron’s footmen would have little reason to scour the place again. Nonetheless, she kept her eyes on the ground as she walked. Kept her hood pulled up over her face and her cloak pulled tightly around her body.

  The sausages she had made several nights ago had been a minor success. Today, she was feeling bold enough to attempt roast lamb and boiled vegetables.

  At least, I will if I manage to make it out of the market unscathed.

  She hurried to the grocer’s stand for the vegetables, then filled her basket with a rack of lamb and a loaf of bread from the bakery. Letitia’s attempts at baking had been something of a disaster. She felt sure Lord Radcliffe would not mind her furnishing his breakfast table with bread purchased from the market.

  With her shopping complete, she hurried from the market and back towards the manor. She was relieved to find she had been right. There had been no sign of the footmen at the market. No doubt they had moved on to some other part of the city. Perhaps she had not even been seen that day at all.

  And then she turned a corner.

  Walking up the street were two men she recognized. Men in long black greatcoats. Men who served her father. One of them carried a portrait in his hand.

  They made their way up to the front door of a townhouse and knocked on the door.

  Impulsively, Letitia turned and fled. Her basket bumped against her side, sending potatoes and onions rolling across the road. She ran until she reached the garden square at the end of the street, then slipped through the gate and hid among the gnarled brown tree trunks.

  She sank to her knees, gasping for breath.

  She had been wrong. Her father’s footman had seen her at the market that day, there could be no doubt. He had seen her and he had reported back to the Baron, and now her father was undertaking this door-to-door search for her.

  Beneath her terror at being found out, Letitia felt an unbidden swell of affection for her father. With it came a tug of guilt. He would be anxious. Worried. Sleepless perhaps. But that affection, that guilt, had to be pushed aside. There was no way she could let herself be found. She couldn’t bear to spend her life by the Duke of Banfield’s side. And, even more pressingly, she couldn’t bear to see the look on Lord Radcliffe’s face when he discovered her a fraud.

  The Baron’s footman had seen her dressed as a servant at the market. He would have concluded she had found work in a household close to Covent Garden. Had he sent his footmen to knock on every nobleman’s door in the area? How long would it be before they appeared at the Radcliffe manor with that portrait in their hands?

  How long would it be before all her secrets came tumbling out? The thought was unbearable.

  There was nothing for it. She had to leave.

  Leave the Radcliffe manor. Leave London. It was the only way.

  The thought brought a deep ache to her chest. Though she had been here less than a fortnight, she and Harriet had become so close. The thought of leaving her was unbearable.

  And the thought of leaving Lord Radcliffe?

  Such a thing was no doubt for the best, Letitia told herself. Every night she went to sleep thinking of the Marquess. She didn’t dare imagine what might happen if she were to stay.

  Yes, she told herself firmly. For the best.

  She stood resolutely. She had to get back to the manor before the footmen knocked on the Marquess’s door. Had to take her earnings and make her excuses to Harriet and Lord Radcliffe. The thought was a painful one. But the thought of leaving without even a goodbye was worse. She knew if she were to do so, they would worry. Perhaps Lord Radcliffe would even send a second search party out for her. And that, Letitia thought, would be no good at all.

  She had no thought of what she would tell them. What possible reason could she give for leaving so suddenly, especially while the household was in disarray?

  What did it matter? Whatever reason she gave would be revealed as a lie the moment those footmen appeared at the door.

  Letitia squeezed her eyes shut at the thought. At least she would be long gone by the time Lord Radcliffe discovered the truth.

  For the best.

  Perhaps if she repeated it to herself enough times, she might begin to believe it.

  * * *

  Letitia raced through the servants’ entrance and dumped the basket of food on the kitchen bench.

  What if she was too late? What if her father’s footmen had already come to the Radcliffe manor? What if she had already been recognized?

  Half the household was bed-ridden, yes, but the butler was still on his feet, and so were several of the chamber maids. Plenty of people who might have answered the door and identified her from the portrait that had sat on her father’s mantle.

  Her stomach rolled.

  What if Lord Radcliffe had answered the door to the footmen himself? She could think of little worse.

  She swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the bench to steady herself. There was nothing to suggest the footmen had been here. When she had seen them in the street, they had still been several blocks away. There were still plenty of doors for them to knock on before they reached the Radcliffe manor.

  Plenty of time for me to make my excuses and say goodbye to Lord Radcliffe and Harriet.

  The thought made tears sting her eyes. But she knew she had no choice.

  She began to empty the basket. She sat the bread and vegetables on the bench and placed the meat in the cool room. She would need to find Sarah and explain the situation. Ask her to prepare supper for the household that night.

  With an ache in her chest, Letitia trudged upstairs. She would find Sarah first.

  The young house maid was polishing the shelves in the parlor with beeswax. She turned at the sight of Letitia hovering in the doorway.

  Sarah flashed her a smile. “All right, Miss Cooper?”

  Letitia had always liked Sarah. She always had a smile on her face and was always willing to share a humorous story or two. Sarah had lost both her parents and her sister in the past few years, Letitia had learned. She had grown up in a family that had struggled to keep a roof over their heads. Sarah had relayed these stories in such an airy, nonchalant way that it had made Letitia’s stomach roll with guilt. She had so much, she realized. Had a mother and father willing to give her everything. And she had fled a life of luxury, plunging her parents into endless worry.

  She tried to force her guilt away. Perhaps she had not grown up penniless like Sarah, but she was being forced into marriage to a gentleman who sought to make her his wife out of repayment. That, Letitia felt certain, was a life worth fleeing.

  She wrapped her apron edgily around her finger. “My mother has taken ill,” she lied, feeling color rise in her cheeks. “And I need to leave the manor for a short time. There’s soup on the range and meat roasting in the oven. I wondered if you might be willing to serve Harriet and the Marquess tonight?”

  Letitia looked shamefully at her feet. Making up a lie about her mother was dreadful, she knew. She wished she had managed a slightly less guilt-inducing untruth. But Sarah just smiled and said:

  “Of course. I’d be happy to.” She gave Letitia a warm smile that made her feel exceptionally bad for lying. She would miss Sarah greatly, Letitia realized, with a tug of regret.

  The maid’s eyes darkened with concern. “Your mother. Will she be all right?”

  Letitia forced a smile. “I’m sure it’s nothing serious. My mother sends for me at least once a month, claiming illness. It’s usually just in her imagination.”

  Stop talking, Letitia! You’re just making this worse!

  Impulsively, she took the duster that was sitting on th
e table and began to swipe it across the mantle.

  “Please Miss Cooper, there’s no need.”

  Letitia kept dusting. “Let me. I insist.”

  What am I doing? I need to leave before Father’s footmen find me here!

  But the more she thought of leaving, the more it made something twist in her stomach. She had no idea where to even begin, Letitia realized sickly. She couldn’t walk all the way out of the city.

  She knew, of course, that there were coaches that left the city regularly, transporting passengers around the country. But she had no thought of how one would go about finding them.

  And so, a little procrastination in the form of dusting shelves.

  “Have you ever thought of leaving London?” she asked Sarah, as nonchalantly as possible.

  Very subtle, Letitia. No one will ever guess what you’re planning.

  Sarah chuckled. “This chaos making you want to flee? Can’t say I blame you.”

  Letitia’s cheeks colored. “No,” she garbled. “Not at all. I was simply thinking about all the places in the country I’ve never seen and I…” She faded out. What was the point in pretending? Sarah knew what she was planning, surely. The girl would have to be half-witted not to realize.

  But if she had caught hold of Letitia’s plans, Sarah said nothing. “I’ve often thought of visiting my aunt and uncle in the north,” she told Letitia after a moment. “They’re all the family I have left. I thought to go to them after my mother died. But I found the city had me in its grip. Found myself unable to leave the place. You know how it is.”

  Letitia managed a small smile.

  No, I don’t know how it is.

  There was a part of her that wanted nothing more than to leave London. The city was all she had ever known— if she could claim she knew a city in which the only landmark she could find her way to was Covent Garden market. There had to be so much more out there. So much more to see, to experience. The sea, the forests, the mountains…

  The thought brought Letitia a sizeable swell of nerves. But along with it came a flicker of something close to excitement.

  Perhaps leaving the Radcliffe manor need not be so painful. Perhaps I might look at it as an opportunity to live a real life, rather than a life lived through the pages of a book…

  She turned to Sarah. “The north,” she said airily. “And how would you get there?”

  Sarah stopped polishing and turned to look at her, giving Letitia a knowing look.

  Letitia bit her lip. Ought she to try and explain herself?

  “I’d take a coach from outside Hatchett’s Hotel,” Sarah pointedly. “If I were to take a journey north.” She gave Letitia a small smile. “That’s what I’d do.”

  Letitia nodded. “I see.”

  To Letitia’s horror, Sarah put down her polishing rag and stepped close. She pressed a warm hand to her shoulder.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked gently. “Are you in trouble?”

  The tears Letitia had been fighting all morning sprung up behind her eyes again. She hurriedly blinked them away.

  “You can tell me,” Sarah said gently. “What’s happened?”

  Letitia swallowed the pain in her throat. How desperately she wanted to speak of all that had happened. How desperately she wanted to tell someone of the horror she had felt when she had seen her father’s footman knocking on doors with a portrait in their hands. She felt as though the anxiety of it were slowly eating her insides. And how desperately she wanted to tell someone of all that had happened between her and Lord Radcliffe, if only to try and make sense of it. To try and unravel this tangle of foreign and terrifying emotions.

  But she knew well she could do none of these things. She had no choice but to keep her secrets safely tucked away.

  “Nothing’s happened,” she said, as brightly as she could manage. “Just making conversation is all.”

  Sarah dug her polishing rag back into the tin and swiped at the shelves again. “Whatever you say, Miss Cooper.” She smiled. “You go off and see your ma then. I’ll see the supper makes its way to the table.”

  Letitia gave Sarah a nod of thanks, then hurried from the parlor, unable to look back at her. With an ache in her chest, she began to trudge up to her attic room. She would pack her things.

  Then she would say goodbye.

  Her throat tightened.

  “Miss Cooper? Is that you?” Harriet’s voice drifted out from her bedroom.

  That was odd, Letitia thought. It was still early. Harriet ought to still be in her lessons with Miss Scott. She hoped this wasn’t another of her tricks.

  “Miss Cooper?”

  Harriet’s voice was coming from her bedroom. She sounded tired and husky. Letitia pushed open the bedroom door.

  Harriet was curled up on top of her bedclothes, still wearing her dress and shoes. Her face was flushed, her eyes large and mournful.

  Letitia rushed to her bedside. “What’s happened?” she asked, crouching beside her.

  Harriet sniffed. “I don’t feel good. My head hurts. And my throat.” She coughed. “Miss Scott said lessons were finished. She told me to come up here and go to bed.”

  Letitia gently brushed the hair from her face. Harriet’s forehead was warm. “Where’s your papa?” she asked.

  Harriet shrugged. “Out. Working.” Her eyes filled with tears.

  Impulsively, Letitia bent to kiss her forehead. “It’s all right. Everything’s all right. It’s just a cold. It’s the season for it after all.” She reached down to unbuckle Harriet’s shoes. “Let’s get you into bed properly. And then I’ll make you some of my magic tea. You’ll feel better right away.” She grinned, eliciting a tiny smile from Harriet. “Even Margaret likes it.”

  Letitia helped Harriet slide into her nightshift, then pulled the covers up to her chin. She hurried to the kitchen, returning with a steaming mug of lemon tea.

  She held the cup to Harriet’s lips. “Drink this,” she said gently. “And then try and sleep.”

  Harriet took a few mouthfuls, then lay back on the pillow. She looked up at Letitia with enormous blue eyes. “Will you stay with me?” she asked, her voice husky.

  With all thought of her father’s footmen slipping from her mind, Letitia said, “Of course.”

  Chapter 13

  Harriet Fletcher opened her eyes to bright light streaming through the gap in the curtains. It was the middle of the day. Why had she been asleep?

  Oh yes.

  As she moved to sit up, her entire body felt like a giant bruise. She ached all over. But Harriet was tired of being in bed. She had been lying here for more than a day. Had fallen asleep with Miss Cooper at her bedside after her lessons had finished the day before.

  In spite of the aches in her body, she pulled herself into sitting. Her throat was still on fire, but she felt as though she had far more energy than she had had yesterday.

  Maybe Miss Cooper was right. Maybe it was magic tea.

  Harriet thought to ring for her. She was hungry for the first time in days. Then she remembered what Papa had told her about Miss Cooper being so busy now the rest of the household was unwell.

  Harriet threw back the bedclothes. She would go down the kitchen herself. If Miss Cooper was there, she would ask her to cut a little bread and cheese. If not, she would do it herself.

  Harriet pulled her dress on over her nightshift and padded down the hallway. Her legs still felt a little unsteady beneath her and she pressed a hand to the wall as she walked.

  At the other end of the passage, the door to her father’s study was closed. That meant he was inside, working hard, and he was not to be disturbed. The door to Papa’s study was closed a lot. He was always working. She had been surprised when he suggested they go to the sideshow. It was not the kind of thing her papa usually did.

  As Harriet made her way downstairs, she heard a knock at the door. Her father’s butler, Downing, strode into the entrance hall and answered in his gruff, gravelly voice.


  Harriet peeked out onto the doorstep as she passed. She stopped abruptly. There were the two men she had watched though the carriage window the day she had been to the sideshow. Those two men in dark coats with the portrait in their hand.

  Her heart quickened with excitement. She had been burning with curiosity ever since she had seen them. A missing person, Papa had said. A runaway perhaps.

  Harriet had been intrigued. She knew what it was like to want to run away. Had found herself imagining who this runaway might be, and all the exciting places they might be visiting.

  She strode up to the front door.