Devilish Games of a Virtuous Lady: A Steamy Regency Romance

by Osborne, Scarlett

  In the glow of the lamp outside the inn, she could see Lord Radcliffe’s eyes shining with concern. “And yet here you are,” he said. “Traveling across the country to build yourself a new life.”

  Letitia let out her breath. “You must think me a fool. For all of this.”

  “No, Miss Caddy. You’re no fool.” He paused. “I’m simply trying to understand.” After a moment, he said, “Thank you for telling me all this. I’m sure it can’t have been easy.”

  Letitia looked at her feet. In spite of Lord Radcliffe’s kind words, she felt ashamed at her confession. What kind of coward would let eighteen years of life slip out from beneath her?

  No more, she decided suddenly. From now on, she would throw her everything into life. She would ride a horse and see the ocean and travel to new places. She would allow herself to feel afraid and know she had the strength to survive it.

  I will make up for all those years I spent in a prison of my own making.

  She could feel a fine misting rain against her cheeks. She shivered, as her breath plumed out in a silver cloud in front of her.

  “We ought to get inside,” Lord Radcliffe said finally. “Find ourselves rooms for the night.”

  Letitia nodded, following him into the coach house.

  She stiffened as she approached the clerk’s desk. She had never stayed in a place like this before. How did one go about securing a room for the night?

  Lord Radcliffe looked over his shoulder at her. “Miss Caddy? Shall I find you a room?”

  Letitia shook her head. She had already relied on Lord Radcliffe far too much on this journey. “Thank you,” she said, forcing a steadiness into her voice. “I shall be quite all right on my own.”

  She hovered awkwardly behind Lord Radcliffe as he spoke to the clerk, an elderly woman with unruly gray curls escaping from the bottom of her mop cap. Letitia tried to catch hold of what they were saying. Their voices were low and she could understand little of it.

  She swallowed heavily as Lord Radcliffe stepped away from the desk and the clerk gestured at Letitia to approach.

  “I’d like a room please,” she said, her voice coming out thinner than she had hoped.

  “Private room?”

  Letitia hesitated. What was the alternative? Did these travelers share their lodgings? Did they curl up to sleep in a room full of strangers? Letitia could barely imagine such a thing. But she was quite certain it was not something she wanted to experience.

  “Yes,” she said. “A private room.”

  “Shilling a night.” The clerk dug beneath the desk and produced a candle, along with a large brass key. “Upstairs. Third door on the left.” She held the candle to the lamp and passed it to Letitia. “Don’t let it blow out,” she said. “It’ll cost you a penny for relighting.”

  Letitia nodded obediently. She murmured her thanks and, cupping her palm around the flame of the candle, turned to make her way upstairs.

  Lord Radcliffe was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He too was holding a lit candle. “You need to eat,” he said firmly. “Will you take your things upstairs and then meet me for supper?”

  Letitia looked at her feet. “You know who I truly am. A lady without a chaperone.” Color began to rise in her cheeks. “How can you wish to have supper with me?”

  Lord Radcliffe smiled a little. “You’ve let the world believe you’re Molly Cooper, kitchen hand. Perhaps you might continue to do so for one more night.” His grin broadened. “And perhaps I might be a farm worker, or the like.”

  In spite of herself, Letitia felt a smile on the edge of her lips. “You don’t look like a farm worker,” she said. “You look like a Marquess.”

  Lord Radcliffe pulled at his silk cravat and stuffed it into the pocket of his greatcoat. He tugged open the neck of his shirt, revealing sparse curls of hair. “Better?”

  Letitia couldn’t hold back her smile. “A little.” She nodded at his finely embroidered blue waistcoat. “You need to rid yourself of that too.”

  Lord Radcliffe grinned. “I’ll meet you in the tavern. You’ll barely even recognize me, I’m sure.”

  Chapter 26

  Letitia was jittery as she made her way upstairs.

  When she had first begun to live as Molly Cooper, her entire life had been turned upside down. But now, not only had she fled her manor, she had also fled the only city she had ever known. There was a chance she was being chased by the gentleman who wanted to make her his wife, and if someone were to show her a map of the country, she would not be able to point to where she was.

  On top of it all, she was to have supper with Lord Radcliffe. Alone.

  To think a month ago I was too timid to set foot outside the gates of my manor…

  She would have laughed if it weren’t for the roiling in her stomach.

  She set the candle carefully on the nightstand. The flame danced wildly in the draft, illuminating the rugged beams of the ceiling.

  The room was sparsely decorated with a single bed in the center and a plain white wash stand in one corner. The floorboards were worn smooth from endless years of footsteps. Through the window, Letitia could see the pale glow of the lamp outside the inn. Beyond it, nothing but darkness and the thin splinter of the moon. She pulled closed the threadbare gray curtains, blocking out the night.

  Supper with Lord Radcliffe…

  She didn’t know if she were dreading it or looking forward to it. All she knew was that she had plenty of secrets that were close to spilling. And if Lord Radcliffe looked at her the right way, she would tell him everything.

  She emptied the water jug into the bowl and splashed her face. The water was icy, and Letitia gasped with the shock of it.

  She unpinned her hair from its messy blonde knot and ran her hairbrush through it. The action was fairly pointless, she knew. Her skirts were stained with mud and remnants of the kitchen, and she wasn’t wearing so much as a woolen bonnet to cover her head. Combing her hair would do little to improve her appearance. But she did it anyway.

  I was angry at Lord Radcliffe mere hours ago for being friends with the Duke. And here I am combing my hair for him…

  Here I am with my heart fluttering. Here I am feeling that simmering inside me that grows whenever he is near.

  She wrangled her hair into a plait and swallowed heavily. If only she could somehow still these feelings, just for tonight. It would make this supper far more manageable. But she knew there was as much chance of that as there was of her sprouting wings and flying.

  She peered into the cracked mirror above the washstand. Her reflection was distorted, but she could tell her face was at least clean, her hair something vaguely resembling neat. She drew in a long breath.

  Courage. You can do this.

  She left the candle flickering on her nightstand and pulled closed the door.

  When Letitia arrived downstairs, she found Lord Radcliffe sitting at a small table in the corner of the tavern. The place was full of dancing shadows; lamps flickering above the doorway and on each of the tables. Inside the enormous blackened hearth, a fire hissed and crackled, smoke spluttering up a chimney that desperately needed sweeping. The place smelled of woodsmoke and tallow, along with the waft of wet wool that seemed to have followed them from London.

  There were several other travelers in the room, some with ale tankards in their hands, others huddling over steaming bowls of soup.

  Letitia was glad of Lord Radcliffe’s choice of table. It felt hidden away from the rest of the world. Just what she needed.

  She sat edgily, folding her hands neatly in her lap. Managed a tiny smile.

  Lord Radcliffe was in his shirtsleeves and breeches, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Letitia was rather sure he would not pass for a farm hand, but at least his nobility might not be so glaringly obvious. At least the two of them might share supper without anyone asking questions.

  Two tin cups sat on the table, steam curling from them.

  Lord Radcliffe smiled at Letitia�
��s curious frown. “Spiced ale,” he explained. “I thought we ought to keep up this ruse of being working class. I felt a brandy might give us away.”

  Letitia brought the cup to her lips. The ale was sweet and spicy, tinged with nutmeg and ginger. It slid hot down her throat and went some way towards taking the tension from her shoulders.

  And so here they were, Letitia Caddy, Baron’s daughter, with her stolen, mud-caked skirts, and the Marquess of Radcliffe with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. Letitia would have laughed if she weren’t so afraid of the Duke appearing.

  “Harriet,” she said. “Will she be all right without you tonight?”

  “She’ll be just fine. Mrs. Milton will take care of her.” Lord Radcliffe smiled. “She was quite adamant that I go after you.”

  Letitia closed her eyes for a moment. She would miss Harriet so dearly. Would miss her almost as much as she would miss her father.

  “She tried to tell me who you were,” Lord Radcliffe said, bringing his cup to his lips. “I didn’t believe her. I thought it just her imagination.”

  Letitia managed a tiny smile. “I would have thought my utter inability in the kitchen might have shown you that I was lying.”

  Lord Radcliffe chuckled.

  “I’m so sorry, My Lord,” Letitia said suddenly. “I’m so sorry for all the lies I told you. For letting you believe I was something I’m not.” She lowered her gaze. “You must be furious.”

  “Furious?” Lord Radcliffe repeated. “No. Of course not.” He met her eyes. “I just want to understand. What made you do it?”

  Letitia hesitated. She wanted to tell him, she realized. Desperately, urgently wanted to share all that had happened. The spiced ale had begun to loosen her tongue. But Lord Radcliffe did business with her father. He was friends with the Duke. He was firmly entrenched in their world.

  She shook her head faintly.

  Lord Radcliffe reached across the table and covered her hand with his. Her heart leapt into her throat.

  “Miss Caddy,” he murmured, “please.”

  His grip tightened around her fingers. Letitia felt the ache inside her intensify. How could just the touch of his hand cause a blaze inside her like this? She looked down at their intertwined fingers. She wanted so much more than this. Wanted those fingers to slide up her arm, over her neck, down beneath the neckline of her stained and stolen gown.

  She shifted awkwardly and Lord Radcliffe removed his hand.

  “Please,” he said again. “Tell me.”

  Letitia shook her head. “I can’t,” she said. “You’re friends.”

  “Ezra Barrington. Is he the reason you ran away?”

  Letitia said nothing. She knew she did not need to.

  “Ezra and I met many years ago,” Lord Radcliffe told her, “at a garden party. Back when my wife was alive. He was one of the few gentlemen in the ton I felt I could relate to. One of the few gentlemen who seemed to have an interest in something other than living a life of luxury. We both sought to enter the tobacco trade. He was a great support to me in the early days of my business. I suppose we were a great support to each other.”

  He wrapped his hands around his cup. “But the truth is, I don’t feel as though I have ever truly known the Duke. I have always felt as though he were keeping his true self hidden away.” He sighed heavily. “Speaking to him, it’s as though every word that comes from his mouth has been carefully thought out. As though he is trying to maintain a ruse. Prevent the world from seeing who he truly is.”

  Yes, I can understand that. I have seen who the Duke of Banfield truly is. No wonder he seeks to hide himself from the world.

  “Did he do something to hurt you?” Lord Radcliffe asked, meeting her eyes.

  Letitia hesitated. Lord Radcliffe’s hand found hers again and he squeezed firmly. “You can tell me, Miss Caddy. I promise you, I have no loyalty to Ezra Barrington. If he has wronged you, I would very much like to know of it.”

  Letitia swallowed. “The Duke of Banfield conducts business with my father.”

  Lord Radcliffe nodded. She could tell this was not news to him.

  “Father owes him a great sum of money,” she continued. “A sum he was struggling to repay.” She drew in her breath. “The Duke asked to take me in lieu of repayment. As his wife.”

  Lord Radcliffe nodded slowly. “I see.”

  “I couldn’t bear the thought of being wed to a gentleman who would take a wife in such a way. A gentleman who treats a lady as no more than currency.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I had to get away.”

  In spite of her tears, she could feel the tension slipping from her shoulders. Could feel the knot in her stomach slowly beginning to unravel. She was glad she had told Lord Radcliffe. Glad there were to be no more secrets between them.

  He looked at her with eyes full of compassion. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

  Lord Radcliffe sighed a little. “I’m sorry on behalf of gentlemen everywhere. I’m sorry for the behavior of my friend. And I’m sorry for bringing him into your home. I would never have done it had I known.”

  Your home…

  His words made something swell in Letitia’s chest.

  She blinked away her tears. “You believe me? About what the Duke did?”

  “Of course I believe you.” Lord Radcliffe ran his finger around the top of his cup. “Ezra spoke to me of your father,” he admitted. “Told me he found the Baron difficult to work with.”

  Letitia gave an incredulous laugh. “Was he expecting otherwise? Was he expecting Father to just hand me over without a fight?”

  “He also told me your father had become more difficult since you ran away.” Lord Radcliffe looked into her eyes. “He must be extremely worried for you, Miss Caddy. Perhaps you ought to get word to him. Tell him you’re safe.”

  The tears Letitia had been fighting slipped suddenly down her cheeks. “I can’t. I’ve disgraced my family by refusing this betrothal and running away. I fear Father would never forgive me.”

  Lord Radcliffe covered her wrist with his big hand. “Of course he would forgive you. You’re his daughter. He’d forgive you for anything, I’m sure of it. I’d do the same for Harriet.”

  Letitia let out her breath. How desperately she longed to tell her mother and father she was safe. But if she were to write to them, she knew they would come after her. And she could not go back to London. Not with the Duke of Banfield prowling through the city.

  She was saved from replying by a young woman in an apron appearing at their table. She planted a hand on her hip and looked down at them boredly.

  “Fish and potatoes or mutton stew?”

  In spite of her unease, Letitia realized she was hungry.

  “Mutton stew,” Lord Radcliffe announced, pushing his shirtsleeves higher up his arms for added effect.

  Letitia managed a small smile. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll have the same.”

  The girl nodded and disappeared back towards the kitchen.

  “So,” said Lord Radcliffe. “Why Nottingham?”

  “Because I needed to escape London. And it was the first coach to leave.” Letitia smiled wryly. “No greater plan than that, I’m afraid.”

  “You could stay here in Northampton,” Lord Radcliffe reminded her.

  Letitia shook her head. “It’s less than a day’s ride from London. It’s not far enough away.”

  “You’re worried about Banfield coming after you?”

  “You’ll not tell him where I am, will you?” The moment the words had left her lips, Letitia regretted them. “I’m sorry, My Lord,” she gushed. “I know you wouldn’t. I know I can trust you.”

  “That’s right,” Lord Radcliffe said firmly. “You can trust me.” He leaned back in his chair. “And after all you’ve told me, I’m rather sure I want nothing to do with Ezra Barrington ever again.”

  His words were reassuring. Letitia took another long mouthful of ale. Her eyes were h
eavy and her legs aching with exhaustion.

  “What will you do in Nottingham?” Lord Radcliffe had a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Will you go back to being Molly Cooper? Dazzle another family with your cooking skills?”

  Letitia gave a short laugh. “I suppose I will. I don’t see I have a great deal of choice.” She met his eyes. “If you could write me a reference, My Lord, it would be most appreciated.”

  Lord Radcliffe nodded, without looking at her. After a moment, he blurted, “I don’t want you to go.”