Desire by Design

by Heather Boyd

“To decide whether she wants to live or not,” the second man announced. “We have heard of similar cases where the woman passed away shortly after the surgery concluded. But Lady Wharton is strong-minded, and perhaps her strength of character, her stubbornness, if you will forgive our use of the term, can help her endure.”

  The first man cleared his throat. “What has become of Miss Hillcrest?”

  Sylvia was the least of their concerns. Right now, his mother needed them to put her care first. “She will not return.”

  “We are very sorry to hear that.”

  “If Miss Hillcrest is gone, we will need to engage a woman to act as nurse,” the first man interjected in a worried tone.

  “See to it.” Alexander turned from them. “I will stay with Mother for now.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  The pair moved toward the door, talking between themselves, and Alexander heard them clearly deliberating the likely cost and trouble of finding additional servants quickly.

  “Perhaps a pair of women would be best now,” one remarked. “At least one should remain by Lady Wharton’s side at all times until she wakes.”

  “We certainly could not expect just one to remain awake when Miss Hillcrest could not always keep her eyes open, but the expense?”

  “We’ve been compensated more than enough,” the second fellow warned the first. “Leave the hiring to me.”

  The first fellow sighed. “Such a shame to lose her, though. Lady Wharton will be disappointed to wake and find her friend gone.”

  Alexander glanced at the door, annoyed the pair could not be quiet, still. Mother would hardly know of Sylvia’s absence in her current state. And when she did—because Alexander couldn’t imagine her not improving—he and Mother would discuss many things, including Sylvia and their unwise friendship.

  When they finally moved out of earshot, Alexander dropped into the chair Sylvia had so recently vacated close to his mother’s side and searched her face. “How many times have I warned you to be wary of pretty young women offering you friendship? You will come to know why Sylvia wormed her way into your heart soon enough, Mother. She’s not the proper lady you thought she was. Those soft smiles and gentle touches of hers were artfully done to reel us both into her confidence. She deceived you, and betrayed me utterly. We’re better off without her, aren’t we?”

  Mother said nothing to that, and Alexander leaned back in the chair to study every breath his mother took, hoping to glimpse some sign of a change for the better soon.

  Chapter 15

  Sylvia twisted and stretched, suddenly waking in the dark. The last thing she remembered was Wharton, furious with her at the door of his mother’s home.

  Sylvia sat up quickly and looked around, discovering she was at home, in her bedchamber. “How did I get here?”

  Aurora rose from a chair beside the bed. “You walked, or should I say stumbled and sobbed your way through the door.”

  “I did?” She looked around again. “How long have I slept?”

  “Just a day.”

  Sylvia blanched. “It feels like only a moment has passed since…”

  She looked at her cousin warily as she remembered more details of the previous day.

  Aurora looked back at her steadily. “Yes, we already know what you were a party to. You’ve been keeping secrets from us again. I thought we promised each other to be honest.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” Sylvia swore. “I wanted to tell you everything, but she insisted on privacy.”

  “That’s what Eugenia knew you’d say in your defense,” Aurora complained. “We know a bit of what transpired, so how about you tell me all of it now before I decide if I should be cross with you, too.”

  “She…

  “Lady Wharton. A wealthy marchioness, and our social superior.”

  Sylvia nodded. “After dinner that night, she revealed to me that she would be operated on the very next morning. She refused to tell her family anything about it. She was afraid and alone and too proud to ask for their support. I couldn’t leave.”

  “Oh, Sylvia,” Aurora chided. “That great big heart of yours is a magnet for lost causes.”

  “She needed a friend.”

  “She has a family.” Aurora stood, leaned over the bed, and gave her a huge hug. “I hope that friendship means as much to her as it does you. Perhaps if she recovers, our reputations might have a chance to survive the damage your actions have caused,” Aurora whispered.

  Sylvia blinked. “What damage?”

  Aurora sighed. “You were seen being thrown out of Lady Wharton’s house by the marquess himself, her son. Word has spread like wildfire, and none of it good. Your hair was half falling down, grown crumpled, and you were yelling and screaming like a madwoman at the door you pounded on, too. You were in such a state that your condition was noticed by many members of the ton passing through Berkley Square at that hour, and your behavior has managed to offend every single one of them.

  “There is speculation that you were attempting to seduce the marquess, which is why he threw you out and banished you from ever returning. Others mutter that they knew you were utterly unbalanced all along and might be a danger to society. And there are many other variations along those lines, I imagine, each one more implausible than the next.”

  “I hadn’t slept in days! I’m not mad. I promise. I was overwhelmed with fear.”

  “That is what we easily deduced when you couldn’t go three steps deeper into the house without crying that you had to go back. You’ve always hated to cry in front of us.”

  “I have been doing a lot of that since the operation took place.” Sylvia winced. “I didn’t expect to be thrown out. Lord Wharton had no right to manhandle me out the door like that, too. I wasn’t myself, and neither was he, I imagine. He had a shock.”

  “You forgive him far too easily,” Aurora said, and sat down beside her on the bed. “You should have warned us of what you were doing there. At least we would have known what to say when someone approached us for an alternative explanation that didn’t cast you in the worst light.”

  “I made a promise not to.”

  “Keeping promises is a risky matter in society.” Aurora reminded her, but then shook her head. “What is the one thing we warn all our clients about?”

  “That gossip is always a wild exaggeration,” Sylvia whispered.

  “No, Sylvia. It is that everyone too easily believes the worst of women.”

  Sylvia nodded, utterly aghast at the certainty of that statement. “It will all blow over as soon as he calms down.”

  “I don’t think so,” Aurora said. “While Lord Wharton was never known to be a client of ours, his actions have put the devil into those who are, or might have been in the future. No one is really sure what transpired between you, and they don’t want the truth anyway. But what they do know for a fact is that you angered an important man. Lord Wharton disapproved of you yesterday, and that means he disapproves of us all today. We have been on the receiving end of scathing criticism by letter this morning. Accusations that would curl your hair. No one can cross the Marquess of Wharton, apparently, and expect to survive in his society.”

  Sylvia clapped her hand over her face. “I was there for his mother. Only for her!”

  “And the mother is so ill, said to be dying. She cannot set matters right until she’s well again, even if she wanted to.”

  “I’m sure she will. Has there been any news of her?”

  “The blinds are drawn. No one has come or gone from the house all morning. The servants cannot even be bribed to tell the truth. Everyone waits for the worst, I suspect.” Aurora sighed again. “Sylvia, do you understand the depths of our disgrace? We have no clients, and likely might never have any again.”

  “I’ll talk to the marquess. Explain. Beg his forgiveness.” Sylvia scrambled out of bed and rushed to the mirror. Her hair was tangled and knotted, pushed up on one side from her sleep. She dragged a comb through the mess quickly, fee
ling that she must go back right away to confront the marquess and try to set things right again. “When she recovers, she will confirm my story.”

  “You will do no such thing! I forbid you falling to your knees before that heartless lout. I remember what you said about Lady Wharton’s son before you must have known who she really was. I have no sympathy for the marquess. None. He’s neglected his dying mother for years.”

  “He didn’t know that.”

  Aurora turned Sylvia forcefully from the mirror and took the comb from her. “You’ve always had such great faith in those you befriend in the ton, but we could never really be one of them, could we? As soon as we put one toe out of line, they washed their hands of all of us without justification. You have been uninvited to ton events, and I, for one, am glad. I know we pushed you to make friends there.”

  “I can’t abandon her now!” Sylvia cried. “What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know, but Eugenia wishes to have a family meeting as soon as you have changed and eaten. We have no clients to see, so no rush at all,” Aurora promised, starting on Sylvia’s hair. When it was smooth and neat again, twisted into a bun, she put the comb away. “I’ll send a maid to help you dress and bring you something to eat. Eugenia and I will be in the library, reading there for a change when you’re ready to talk.”

  Sylvia caught her cousin’s arm before she left. “I never meant for any of this to affect you.”

  “I know, but we can’t pretend our lives haven’t changed,” Aurora said, wincing. “You were our presence in the ton, our flawless ambassador, and now you’ve been turned out. It was only a matter of time I suppose. I’m sorry.”

  “I am too.”

  Aurora slipped from the room as Sylvia fumed silently. She only had herself to blame. Society were sheep, and Wharton one of their most admired leaders. If he’d shown his disapproval of her anywhere but on the front step of his mother’s house, she might have survived with only a slightly dinted reputation. But he’d used his superior strength to express his annoyance and had tossed her out like refuse.

  Should she even blame him for acting as he had? She should have told him. She would have but for that unthinking promise she’d made to his mother. She hadn’t been the only one, though. Lady Wharton had made her physicians sign a letter promising not to send for the marquess while she still breathed, or they wouldn’t be paid. Money always had a way of ensuring loyalty.

  Sylvia hadn’t needed to be bribed. The lady had a claim on her affections.

  Sylvia gnawed her finger, wondering how she could possibly salvage the family business and restore their reputations. Unfortunately, every idea she came up with hinged on Lady Wharton’s complete recovery, and Sylvia had no way to ensure that happened.

  She put her head down on the bed and let out a muffled scream into her pillow. She should have never become friends with the mother of a marquess. He was too powerful, too stubborn. She might never win him round.

  There was no point lying in bed, castigating herself, when there were decisions to be made for her family. She had the means to solve part of their problems, though the others didn’t know it yet.

  She got out of bed and summoned a maid. With her help, she dressed in a bright yellow muslin gown to cheer herself up, ate well when the promised tray of food arrived, and then squared her shoulders to face up to her responsibilities. This was her mess, and she’d do all she could to make things right for her cousins.

  She fetched her old reticule from its hiding place and hurried downstairs, straight into the library.

  Eugenia was behind the desk, fingers running over the ledger. Even from the doorway, Sylvia could tell the news would be bad. They kept an accounting of the business and their inherited fortunes in the same book. There never had been very much to go around.

  “Good morning, cousin,” Eugenia murmured. “I hope you are prepared to discuss the future.”

  “Indeed I am.” Sylvia sat, holding her reticule tightly in her hands. “Where do we stand?”

  Eugenia rested her elbows on the desk and her chin on her fingertips. “I see you are in no mood for small talk. Very well then. Since Aurora tells me she has already shared our predicament with you, I’ll get straight to it. We have a few outstanding client fees to receive yet, and we are in good shape for the season, the summer, and into the autumn. But without new clients coming through our doors, I fear our income will fall short of our needs again when winter comes,” she announced.

  “No, it will not. Not this year.”

  Sylvia upended her old reticule on the desk.

  Inside had been all her winnings from the games she’d played and won in the last nine months, the largest addition coming from attending Lord Wharton’s little gathering recently.

  Aurora bounced to her feet and gasped. “Where did all this come from?”

  Eugenia glanced up, frowning severely. “You assured me you would limit your presence at the card tables.”

  “I had to fit in.” Sylvia slid a few pound notes around. It wasn’t a fortune, but it would all be needed. “I saved and saved everything I’ve won since last season, to make sure we wouldn’t have to spend another winter apart again.”

  Aurora started piling it up and counting how much additional money they had now. Sylvia could have told them the tally, but counting the money themselves would make them understand and appreciate what she’d done for them. Counting her winnings always helped Sylvia when doubts about the future assailed her.

  Aurora finished and sat back, staring at the piles. “This is a small fortune. Why did you not tell us sooner?”

  “I was worried it might be used for the wrong purpose. You’ve always insisted I had to dress to fit in with higher society. New gown and hats, presents for new friends and such. I didn’t want it wasted on them. So I saved up for a rainy day in secret, and I was right to in the end,” she murmured. “There has ever been a chance that our venture would prove insufficient to our long-term support.”

  “Who did all this belong to?” Eugenia asked, clearly still disapproving.

  “To a great many entitled members of society. Don’t worry. I never ruined anyone. They hardly noticed the little losses, and that is to our advantage now.”

  Eugenia counted the money herself, too, and added that figure to her tally. She heaved a sigh and sat back. A small smile played over her lips. “You have saved us a great worry.”

  For one year perhaps, but not for all the years ahead of them. Sylvia was painfully aware that if she’d really been cast out, she’d no longer have the same access to society, with its incumbent opportunities to gamble. This might be her only and largest contribution to their household. In the future, they would still need a steady income unless they returned to the countryside and to their former quieter lives.

  Aurora hurried round the table and hugged her tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Sylvia squeezed her back, glad for proof that one of her cousins appreciated her skill at cards. Eugenia wasn’t fond of anyone who gambled, as a rule, which was understandable, since her only brother had been a wastrel and had died leaving her family penniless.

  Gambling really was Sylvia’s only true accomplishment. She couldn’t sing, act, or play an instrument. She embroidered only passably well. But in a room thick with vice and frequent poor judgment, she could always hold her own.

  Aurora started to pace the room. “Now the immediate future is settled, I think it is time we consider an alternative to matchmaking for others.”

  “We were never matchmakers,” Sylvia protested.

  “We were advisers,” Eugenia declared, puffing out her chest. “We did well at that.”

  “But not well enough. And now London society is closed to us. Quite frankly, I don’t think we can ask Sylvia to go back out there to charm idiots into liking us again. It could very well be an uphill and fruitless battle.”

  Eugenia nodded. “I am willing to listen to new ideas for what the future should hold f
or us. What did you have in mind?”

  Aurora put her hands on the desk and studied them both. “We have been having fun helping others make matches for a year, and for what? A pittance in funds that will soon run out again. My suggestion is that we devote all our energies, and not inconsiderable talents, to finding a spouse for one of us.”

  Sylvia studied her cousin carefully. That was quite a reversal of opinion. “But you said you never imagined being married. You were quite vocal about it, too, before we even came to London.”

  “I have had some time to rethink my position on matrimony. I might have been wrong. We each still have our inheritances but that money won’t last all our lives. As frugal as we have been, the funds won’t last. So we need a husband. But since we are sensible women, we won’t require an obscenely wealthy husband. We’re not hunting a title or fortune but we do need just the right man. Someone willing to have us under his roof and accept us all. After all, two of us only need food in our bellies and a roof over our heads, though the husband must favor highly the one he weds. One sensible marriage is infinitely better than three terrible ones and separation. I’ve grown tired of being in a constant state of panic over what happens to us next.”

  Sylvia narrowed her eyes on her cousin. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

  “Oh, not at all long.”

  “It shows.” Sylvia sat forward in her chair. “That is the most unromantic thing that’s ever come out of your mouth. I will not be involved in such an unfeeling scheme. I could never marry a man I did not love with all my heart, and I would expect no less from either one of you.”

  “But one of us must consider marriage as a means to our survival.”

  Sylvia pinched the bridge of her nose. “Oh, cousin. You can’t really mean for one of us to marry so coldly.”

  “I would do it for all of us if I had to,” Aurora promised, chin rising. “I think in the next few days, we must find out which of our clients still support us in some fashion, and then we should encourage them.”

  Sylvia gaped. “You want us to marry our clients?”