“Perhaps you are,” he murmured at last. And when I still would not look at him, he turned back to the performance. My gut constricted and I wished I could go back and restart the conversation; lead it to a better conclusion.
Wager or no, I wished he had taken my hand, for then it would mean he cared for me romantically—at least in some small measure. I’d have lost the wager and would have to confess, but what would it matter if our feelings were mutual?
In the end, winning was the harder outcome—for now I had to make my confession without any promise of reciprocation. It was that thought that made me wonder if Lady Iris had known I would win. If she had done it on purpose, just to make me miserable.
After a crescendo of brass and string instruments, intermission arrived. Candles were rekindled, along with conversations initiated before the show started. Lady Prima whisked Allerton out of the box, crying something about having spotted a Mrs. Manchester. Lady Iris swiveled in her seat.
“Well, dear Eliza,” she said with innocent eyes, “how goes your conquest?”
I couldn’t glare at her like I wanted to—I felt too crestfallen for that. Still, I managed a chagrined twist to my lips. “I can assure you, I am winning.”
“Delightful. I look forward to rewarding you.”
“How intriguing this sounds,” William said. “What sort of conquest?”
“Just a little sport between women,” Lady Iris said with a smile. “Nothing that concerns you. At least, not directly.”
William’s gaze volleyed between us, finally settling on me. “Is this about finding a husband?” When I didn’t answer he pressed, “Or is it something else?”
“Oh William, stop interrogating her! Can we not have a bit of fun without you getting involved?”
William’s eyes flicked over to Lady Iris, something dark flashing in them. “Not where it concerns Eliza. And I seem to recall your delight in involving me in your circus, Lady Iris. I am only attempting to oblige you.”
Somewhere, in those few little words was a barb. Judging by the little furrowing of Iris’s eyebrows, it had found its mark. “Well then, sir, if your involvement with me is unavoidable, perhaps you would escort me to the entrance for some fresh air?”
William frowned and cast me a hesitant glance, but offered his arm to Iris. I was alone in the box, but somehow I didn’t mind. The air between William and Iris was always so charged and suffocating. For the thousandth time, I wondered what had transpired between them.
At this rate, by evening’s end, I would know.
“Alone, Miss Wycliffe?”
I turned at the deep timbre of the duke’s voice. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Has your escort abandoned you a third time?”
A bitter taste stung my mouth. Yet, the duke’s face was not accusing, but gentle, graced with a sad sort of smile.
I fingered the closed fan in my hand, studying the gold cross-stitches. “I hope you do not view me as a woman to be pitied, sir. It is one thing I have no stomach for.”
“On the contrary. I think you are to be praised.” He occupied the seat next to me. William’s seat. “Not every woman possesses the fortitude to stand on her own.” There was a brief pause, before, “Especially when her mother has one foot in the grave.”
My mouth dropped open in shock. No one knew that. Not Peter, or Matthew, or William. So how did Allerton?
“Forgive me for bringing up such a delicate matter—” he rushed to say, “—I can see your family is trying to keep the situation hushed. I only wished to express my deep regrets.”
My hands grew clammy in my lap. “I . . . I thank you, Your Grace, but might I ask how you came by such information? Even my own brothers are unaware of the seriousness of my mother’s condition.”
Allerton shifted uncomfortably. “I admit, I—I did a bit of prying. Your mother’s physician also attends to my aunt, and when she mentioned that most of his time was consumed at the Wycliffe residence recently . . .”
“I see.”
“Please forgive me, Miss Wycliffe.” His eyes were earnest and regretful.
I offered him part of a smile. “There’s nothing to forgive. I do appreciate the sentiment, I only wish Mama would divulge the truth to Peter and Matthew. And William. It’s terribly difficult keeping secrets from him.”
I shut my mouth, immediately regretting the words. Here I was, unloading every one of my burdens onto a handsome duke! And why was I taking him into my confidence? Perhaps it was the soft way he stared at me, patient and awestruck, as if wondering what adventure I might take him on next. No one had ever stared at me like that.
“Yes, Bentley,” he said. “Somehow we are back on the topic of him. I have always found it highly irregular your mother’s choice for your chaperone—not even a relation. And I do admit I’m a bit envious of Bentley in that regard.”
I swallowed under the intense stare of the duke’s warm eyes. “William has always been part of the family—especially since my father’s death. My family does not regard him as an eligible suitor, but a brother.”
“I see,” he said, but in a way that suggested he didn’t really. There was a long moment where the duke’s gaze shifted around, thoughtfully, deliberately, before landing back on me. “Are the two of you, erm . . . attached?”
I stared at the duke, startled. How I longed to say yes. Longed to claim William for myself—his wit and his charm and his smiles. Instead, I said, “William is only a good friend.”
“Forgive the observation, but your hesitation on the matter would suggest otherwise.” His eyes expressed a kindness that stopped me from denying it. Someone had opened a window nearby, and I was grateful for the cool blast of air that hit my face, neutralizing my blush. “Have no fear, Miss Wycliffe. Your secret is safe with me.” There was nothing but thoughtfulness on his face.
That was two of my secrets unearthed tonight—and neither of them by William. By all England, was I so transparent? I needed to be more guarded in my actions. I managed a small nod of thanks to the duke before I asked, “What of you, Your Grace? Have you any informally adopted family?”
He seemed taken aback by the question. “Not that I can speak of. Though I do have an aunt who takes the greatest pleasure in showing strangers her teeth collection whom I wish could be un-adopted.” That earned my laugh, and after a moment he laughed with me. “I am close to my uncle. I’m sure you’ve heard of him as he is in parliament—the Earl of Liverpool.”
My jaw dropped. The prime minister? The most powerful man in England was Allerton’s uncle?
“He’s been a great mentor to me through the years,” Allerton went on, sitting forward. His eyes lit up, his hands gesturing animatedly. “His work has inspired me in more ways than one. I did not used to think so, but as lords, we have an enormous amount of sway with the public. There are so many things that can be improved upon. Just yesterday I witnessed two young boys fighting in the streets for a bit of bread while society looked on with scorn. Infrastructure, agriculture, industries small and large—it’s all suffering while parliament does nothing. I know we can do more. That I can. It may not be possible to change the world, but I would be less than a man if I did not try.”
I took him in, at a loss for words. He licked his lips before a nervous laugh escaped between them. “Forgive my running tongue. You have no wish to speak of such matters.”
“On the contrary,” I said. “I find such a position fascinating. There are so many of us who prefer to keep to the sidelines instead of endeavoring to make a difference. Who prefer to blind themselves and run away from problems instead of face them.” I looked down at my hands, ashamed.
My mind went to myself, and Mama.
And William.
I wasn’t prepared for Allerton’s hand reaching over to cover my own. I stared at the large veins and sharp ridges of his knuckles, frozen. He leaned forward, warm breath caressing my cheek when he said, “I hope we may face them together, one day . . .”
I
glanced at him. I blinked once, then four times.
Just then Iris minced back into the booth, William at her heels. The duke withdrew his hand and cleared his throat before standing and returning to his seat. I mentally swatted at the heat rising to my face, determined to ignore William. Iris said nothing, but her eyes possessed a knowing glow as she sunk into her chair.
The irony was not lost on me. Where William had not taken my hand, Allerton had. And somehow—somehow—Lady Iris had predicted that by evening’s end it would be so.
Soon the tones of cultivated voices graced our ears as the opera resumed. Though I continued to listen in fascinated awe, I found my eyes straying to the back of Allerton’s head. And though I was sure he was just as enraptured as I, the way he subtly turned his head and gave me a small, secretive smile made me wonder if his rapture was entirely due to the performance.
As soon as the opera finished, Lady Prima rushed off in a tizzy, rambling about some scandal and who she needed to tell about it. Allerton bid us all goodnight, and when he planted a kiss on my gloved hand, he lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary. William left to call our carriage, leaving Lady Iris and me alone in the box. I stood, rubbing my arms.
“I am having a birthday celebration in a few weeks,” Lady Iris said. “Nothing big, only a few of my closest friends. You and William are invited—and Allerton too, of course. You must promise to come.”
I said nothing for a while, wishing I could refuse. But I had lost the first wager and she was endeavoring to be my friend—in a confusing, twisted way.
“Of course,” I said at last.
“And what of tonight’s wager? What is the outcome?”
I turned, studying her raised chin and lazy gaze. I could lie. In an attempt to wipe the self-satisfied expression off her face, I could tell her that William and I had held hands through the performance.
But she would know I was lying. She had planned for things to happen this way. Somehow, even in losing, she had won.
“William never reached for my hand,” I admitted.
“Excellent news!” she said. “That is, it’s a pity as well. But now for your reward.” Lady Iris gestured to my seat. “Sit down. This is a long tale, and we are already hard pressed to finish before William returns.”
She wanted me to know the story—though I couldn’t say why. I sat, analyzing the way Lady Iris fiddled with her fan. Whether or not she purposely let me win to cause me misery, she probably disliked reliving painful memories.
“When I first knew William, it was on my first visit to England,” she began, waving her fan in the air. The move looked artificial. “He was barely nineteen, and the handsomest thing I’d ever seen. Even without a title, he had gaggles of women who’d follow in his wake, pining for just one of his charming smiles. Back then, he was carefree, and clever, and predisposed to like the whole world and everything in it. And well, that all changed after we met.
“It was I who changed him, and not for the better, I’m afraid. We were not in love—but we were well on our way. I noticed his absence from society one week, and soon discovered the reason for it, though I can’t recall how. He had a relative—very distant—who had fallen on hard times, and as a result, she’d turned to an immoral line of work. During that week, William had gotten her back on her feet, had given her food, a house, and an honest job. I didn’t think much of this.
“I was new to the country, and my cousin—who had moved to England several years before—was my guide to society. She taught me all I needed to know, and I trusted her completely. There is no other way to put it, but that she fancied William, and was jealous of his attentions to me.
“So when she heard of the report regarding William’s involvement with unsavory characters, she pounced on it, telling me that he must’ve had ulterior motives for helping this woman, and that I simply could not attach myself to such a man. She convinced me that I had to dissuade William, and that the only way to do so would be to publicly humiliate him.”
Lady Iris paused as a cluster of people glided past our box on their way toward the exit. Once they were out of earshot, she resumed.
“I was young and impressionable, and never once thought my cousin might be deceiving me. So the next week at Almack’s, when it was obvious William could overhear, I told a whole throng of people of my dislike for him. I told them about his relation, his unfavorable association with her, and his obvious skewed reasons.
“Of course, most of the ton participate in such degrading activities—but whenever something specific is brought to light, they openly scorn it with a vengeance, showing no mercy, even while they continue to commit their hypocrisies.”
She grew silent for a moment. She swallowed. “I will never forget that moment.” Her voice was quieter. “The whole room had gone silent, everyone’s eyes on the newly scorned and disgraced Sir William Bentley. But he wasn’t watching them—oh, no. He was watching me, and I shall never forget the look on his face. How shocked it was, and confused, and wounded—as if in that one moment a veil had been lifted from his eyes and he saw the world for what it really was. Hideous. And in that moment, I knew he was innocent of everything I’d just accused him of.
“When I saw him next, he was changed. He had developed a fierce hatred for society and its customs and lies. I realized the deceit of my cousin and the innocence on William’s part, and did my best to make restitution. The whole ordeal was hard, and painful, but I am over it, and so is he. However, the effects have proved to be lasting. He closed his heart, just as I closed mine. Since then, I have never loved another man. I came to terms with my dormant emotional state, and he . . . never grew into his.”
It certainly explained William’s restlessness. Why he flirted incessantly but never committed to one woman.
Lady Iris arched an eyebrow. “It came to my attention that William had a sort of summer fling with your now sister-in-law. Miss Lillian Markley, I believe her name was. I’m sure you know how it played out.”
I shook my head. “There was potential for an attachment, but Lily never told me the particulars.”
“And neither did he.” It wasn’t a question. “Well, that all happened after me, and I don’t know the whole story either—all I know is that they parted badly, which I’m sure can’t have helped. Truthfully, I don’t know that he’s ever gotten over her.”
Something clicked—clues to a mystery locking into place and revealing more of the picture. Of course. William had loved Lily. Maybe he still did.
“And now,” Lady Iris continued, “he views the world with a cynical eye, laughing at society before it can laugh at him. If you’re lucky, you may still catch a glimpse of the man he used to be.” She paused, looking me up and down. “You bring it out in him, you know—more than anyone else I’ve seen. He tries to protect you from this world of malicious gossipers and greedy men. I find it heartwarming and ironic. He keeps his heart so tightly locked away that even he never inserts the key and takes a peek inside. For if he did, I’m sure he would find you already there.”
I glanced at her sharply, lips parting.
“Oh yes, he cares for you—outwardly, he may not show much, but he cannot hide it from me. There is a fierce loyalty behind his eyes when he looks at you, and one of these days you might tell me what you have done to earn such trust. Yes, he cares for you—but only he can know how deeply . . . That is, if he ever had the courage to look.” She sighed. “But my dear, I very much doubt that shall happen.”
She stood, gathering her shawl about her and smoothing her dress. “And now that you know all, I shall bid you adieu. Give William a kiss for me, won’t you?”
In a flash of blue skirts, she was gone. It was only another moment before William materialized and escorted me out into our carriage. The shadows concealed my face during the ride home, but they leaked into my thoughts.
My heart ached when I pictured the scene Lady Iris had painted. What a terrible tale—and William the victim. Never once had he hinted at b
eing so unjustly accused. He did not make derogatory remarks about Lady Iris as she had about him—nor did he call her out on the lie she had told those years ago. Instead, he had learned to smile and flirt. To act as if nothing was amiss.
It had been at least five years since the scandal. William’s company was eagerly accepted and sought after, as if everyone had learned to overlook it. But surely they remembered.
Lady Iris could have fabricated the whole story—indeed, and it wouldn’t surprise me. But something told me it was true. She had related the tale matter-of-factly, as if she had nothing to be ashamed of—but the truth of her feelings had shown in the very subtle wrinkle of her brow.
She regretted her actions. Regretted not pursuing William when she’d had the chance.
I vowed I wouldn’t make the same mistake.
I glimpsed William across from me in the carriage, swaying in the shadows. I couldn’t confess now, with so much new information to process and mull over. Iris’s story changed things. They caused my prepared words to feel flat and insufficient. I needed to conjure better ones—ones that better reflected William’s past, better reflected what I would do to prevent that past from becoming his future.
My carefully laid plans for this carriage ride fell through the floor and clattered to the street. But it didn’t matter. Tonight was not my only opportunity to confess.
Tomorrow would serve just as well.
Chapter 12
“. . . and that is my most recent ode to limp cravats,” finished Mr. Cooper.
“Oh la, Mr. Cooper, but you are amusing!” Lady Prima giggled.
Ahead of me on the frozen trail walked Lady Prima and Mr. Cooper, Lady Prima’s new candidate. He wasn’t as tall as Mr. Hayman, nor as thin—possessing a round, jutting chin and merry eyes the color of used bathwater. Wisps of red hair poked out between his topper and his plaid scarf, giving the impression of a more defined jawline than he actually had. But his most redeeming quality, I thought, was that he harbored absolutely no interest in horses.
A Lord of Many Masks (Wycliffe Family Book 2) Page 11
