Mr. Jenkins nodded. “I do.”
“So,” Lydia continued, more resolute in her words, “the real question is, if love does not exist, is Mr. Jenkins and others like him mad?”
The room burst out in laughter, and Mr. Lancing slapped his knee. “I do believe Miss Lydia shall be teaching us from now on!” he said with glee.
Lydia felt more alive than she ever had in her life. She could attend the greatest of balls and parties, be in the company of those highest in society, but to have the opportunity to speak her mind without fear of mockery and ridicule of others was a freeing experience. Never could she have made such a statement in the presence of the majority of her peers, for none seemed interested in thoughts beyond the latest fashions or discussions of business. Gossip had never been of any interest to her, but most ladies of the ton found hours of entertainment discussing the latest rumors of those they draped with kind words when in their company.
After several more people voice their opinions, Mr. Lancing called the meeting to a close, and soon everyone was standing and bidding one another farewell.
Lydia walked up to Mr. Lancing. The man was in his sixties and wealthy in his own right, but he did not hold a title, nor was he a member of the gentry. Despite all that, Lydia found the man endearing and admired him for his ways of engaging in conversation.
“Thank you again,” Lydia said as she gave the older man a quick hug. He often told Lydia that she reminded him of his daughter, who he had lost ten years earlier.
“You are a beautiful woman inside and out,” Mr. Lancing said. “Do not give in to despair. Love will find you one day; I am sure of it.”
Lydia glanced at Helen once again. The woman had a tendency to allow her tongue to wag when it should not.
Mr. Lancing chuckled, however. “You forget that my Patricia was a young lady once, as well,” he said, clearly understanding that look Lydia had given Helen. “Safe travels, and until next time.”
“Until next time,” Lydia repeated, just as she did every week when she was able to attend the meetings. It meant that, regardless of what she had said, regardless of any she might have offended with her words, she was always welcome to return. The phrase only added to the openness of the group and allowed everyone the same freedom Lydia always felt. There had been times when the discussion became heated, but by the end of the time, everyone left on friendly terms, even if they had not reached an agreement, and that only made their time together that much more wonderful.
“We must get you home,” Helen said, and the two headed off into the night.
Chapter Ten
The sounds of a door opening and the voices of people woke William with a start. He had closed his eyes outside the home of the old man in order to think, only to fall asleep instead. Scolding himself for making such a grave error—and glad he had remained behind the bushes to have that ‘think’—he remained squatted down in the shadows, appalled when the old man described Miss Fortescue as ‘beautiful’.
Did the woman have any idea what she was doing to her reputation with her antics? No matter how hurt one was, to throw oneself at men for entertainment would only prove detrimental in the end. Therefore, it was imperative he speak with her, to warn her that she should stop these visits before it was too late, if it was not already too late. And he cared not that it would pain him to be the one to deliver that warning.
As Miss Fortescue and the woman with her rounded the corner of the alley from which they had come, William glanced around before pushing his way through the bushes. He groaned when he heard a light tearing sound, but he did not stop to investigate which article of clothing had been damaged. More important issues were at hand to rectify—a woman’s virtue. Or at least her reputation; her virtue remained in question.
He glanced around the corner just as the women made a left onto the next street. If they were returning the same way they came exactly, they would take a right at the next alleyway. And when he arrived at the corner, that was what they did. Good, it would be all the easier to follow them this time.
As he waited at the next corner to allow the women time to turn onto the next street, William heard a man’s voice, and he did not like what the man said at all.
“Go ‘head and take that off for me, darlin’” the man said. Disgust erupted in William’s stomach at the words. “Your friend, too. Take it off.”
How mad and depraved must a woman be to have a tryst in an alleyway in London? It was bad enough that Miss Fortescue met a man in his home, or what William suspected was the man’s home, but quite another to agree to such debauchery in an alley!
William could take it no longer. He had to stop this woman from soiling her reputation further! “For the love of all things pure and sacred, keep your clothes on!” he bellowed as he turned the corner. Time stood still as he assessed the situation before him, for Miss Fortescue and her companion were not removing their clothing, but rather a man in a filthy coat that matched the dirt on his trousers stood before the women with a knife in his hand and a scowl on his face. They were not there for a tryst. They were being robbed!
“Get going, you,” the man said, turning and jutting the point of the knife toward William, who stood paralyzed with surprise—and fear he refused to admit.
However, once he took one look at the tears of fear running down the cheeks of Miss Fortescue, anger returned.
“Perhaps I shall remove my pistol and shoot you here in the street,” William said, reaching into his inside coat pocket. “Unless you plan on returning these good women’s belongings.”
The man cried out in horror, dropping his knife and what appeared to be a reticule in the process, and ran back down the alleyway where he disappeared into the darkness of the night.
William retrieved the reticule and handed it to Miss Fortescue. “I assume this is yours?”
“Your Grace!” Miss Fortescue cried. Before William was able to respond, the woman threw her arms around him and began sobbing into his chest. “I thought we were dead!”
“You are safe now,” William said, unsure how he should console her. If he returned the embrace, he would be a rake taking advantage of a woman in need. Yet if he did not, he would appear a cad, also one taking advantage of a woman in need. He did not have time to consider his options further, for she pulled away soon after and began dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
“I do not know how we can ever thank you,” Miss Fortescue said. “Oh, I apologize, this is Mrs. Helen Shale, my mother’s sister.”
“Oh, thank you, Your Grace,” the older woman exclaimed with a curtsy as she held her hand against her breast as if the calm her heart, “for saving us both.”
“It appears we are at a new stage in our relationship,” William said with a small laugh. “Your Grace seems a bit out of place now. Why do you not call me by my Christian name, William? All my friends do.”
Although Mrs. Shale’s eyes widened in surprise, Miss Fortescue smiled. “Then I suppose you should refer to me as Lydia. All my friends do.”
William laughed. Then he studied them closer. “Were either of you hurt?”
“No,” Helen replied. “Scared, yes. Though I think a glass of wine will fix that fear. I must admit, my heart has not slowed a lick.”
“Is your carriage still waiting for you?”
Lydia gave him a suspicious look. “How did you know about our carriage?” she asked. “And come to think of it, how was it you came to find us here?”
“Yes,” Helen replied, her fear apparently also replaced by suspicion. “I’m curious, as well. And what are you doing with a pistol?”
To this, William laughed as he reached into the inside pocket of his coat and produced a flask. “I must admit that my ‘pistol’ will cause little damage.” This brought about laughter from all three, and he returned the flask to its place in his pocket. “There is much that must be told,” he added with a sigh once the laughter ended. “As Mrs. Shale said, a drink is in order. Would you mind if I joi
ned you and your aunt?”
What he expected was for the woman to refuse with some thin excuse; however, she did not. Instead, William was delighted when the two women looked at one another and nodded.
“I believe we have time,” Lydia replied with a small smile, though how she even knew the exact time, he did not know.
***
When the trio arrived at Lydia’s home, however, another obstacle stood in their way, much to Lydia’s chagrin. Wallace stood at the front door, adamant that the Duke could not enter the home while the Baron was away, and no amount of arguing on Lydia’s part would make him falter.
“I am sorry, Miss Lydia,” the butler said regally, “but your father would see me hanged for all the city to see. I would be shamed and worse, without employment.”
Before Lydia could make one more attempt to convince the man he had nothing about which to worry, Helen clicked her tongue. “And without your life,” she argued, “your reputation and source of income would not make any difference anyway. Being dead can do that to a person.” Then she reached up and pinched the old butler’s cheek. “Besides, you are too handsome to hang. The Baron would just shoot you instead.”
Lydia groaned as she sneaked a glance at William. He must have thought them a bunch of fools! Her aunt pinching a servant’s cheeks was bad enough, but she, as the lady of the house, barred by her butler from allowing a man to call only made matters worse.
“I am only teasing, old friend,” Helen said when the butler glared at her. “I will remain with Lydia and accept all responsibility for this evening if that makes you feel any better.”
Wallace sighed. “Oh, very well,” he said as he stepped aside to allow the three to enter. “But I will not have my good name ruined, Mrs. Shale. Three generations of my family have served the Fortescues with honor, so I will not see that reputation marred because you do not follow through on your promises.”
Lydia gave William an apologetic smile. How to explain her aunt’s standing in the household would not be easy, but she doubted rather highly that he would care if she did explain. Perhaps it was his action this night, or maybe it was the way his dark curls fell over his forehead, but whatever it was, Lydia found him extremely handsome, more so than she had before. Then, when the man returned the smile, her legs grew weak, and she wondered if she would swoon. She had always considered swooning for the weak of heart, but she found herself rescinding such thoughts now.
She led them to the sitting room, somehow able to keep her wobbly legs moving. “May I offer you some wine?” she asked once everyone took their seats, Lydia sitting beside Helen and William—it was strange to refer to the man by his Christian name—sitting in one of the twin chairs opposite the small table.
“Yes, please,” he replied.
Helen served the wine, though Wallace had tried to stay and take over that task. “Off with you,” her aunt had said, making Wallace grumble, though he did as she bade.
“Thank you for allowing me into your home,” William said. “Though I wish it was under better circumstances.”
Lydia responded with the first question on her mind. “So, how is it that you happened to be in that part of London?”
“Well, I’m unsure as to where to begin…”
“Perhaps the beginning would be best,” Helen said. Then she reached over and patted Lydia on the hand. “Would you not agree?”
“Indeed,” Lydia replied. “The beginning is always a very good place to begin.”
“Very well,” William replied. Then he cleared his throat as he pulled at the lapels of his coat. “I must return us to last Season in the home of Lord Morgan, for that was when I first overheard you speaking.”
Lydia felt her cheeks flush. She had been quite vocal at that party, for the topic of discussion had turned into a heated argument concerning the treatment of people in the lower classes. Most in the group held the view that they were only a step above workhorses, whereas Lydia saw them as much more. It was her belief that they were equal to her and deserving of respect as any person of the ton might be. What she did not have the chance to include was her opinion that many members of the ton were undeserving of the respect they did receive simply because they held a title. Now that she knew that William had been listening, she was glad she had not voiced that particular opinion.
William continued. “A woman with such insight, passion, and abundance of knowledge intrigued me.” He looked at the floor. “I’m embarrassed to say any more, for I was eavesdropping. I hope you do not believe it is something I do often.”
Helen, being the straightforward woman she was, spoke before Lydia could. “You accused us of removing our clothes in the alleyway,” she said with a sniff. “We’ve moved past ‘embarrassment’ this night.”
Lydia glared at her aunt. Well, this would be the test to see if, indeed, they were amongst friends, for the Duke could easily find the woman’s words offensive and storm from the home.
However, he did not become angry. Instead, he laughed, a hearty sound that made him throw his head back. “I suppose you are right at that, Mrs. Shale,” he said, still chuckling.
“Oh, enough with the Mrs. Shale talk,” Helen chastised. “If I am to call you William, you most certainly may call me Helen.”
William chuckled. “If that is what you wish.”
“It is.”
He shrugged. “To continue with my story, I decided that a woman of such beauty and intelligence did not need just any ordinary card. No, what she needed was a card with words that I wrote from my heart. Unfortunately, Barnard—that is, the Marquess of Easley, who as you know is, or was, a close friend of mine—exchanged my card for one he wrote as a joke. It was not until today that I put it together and learned what he had done. I feel foolish for not realizing it sooner, though I must admit, I thought perhaps you were either mad or perhaps had a propensity to lie.” Then his eyes flew open. “You are neither, of course!”
Lydia laughed. “I understand now,” she said, though a part of her wondered if it could be true that, after all this time of believing otherwise, the Duke was a kind man and not the rogue about whom she had heard whispers and thought she had read with her own eyes. “And tonight? You still have not explained how you came to be in that area of London at the exact same time as that bandit attempted to assault us.”
“Oh…well…” He took a heavy drink of his wine, almost emptying the glass before continuing.
This should be interesting, Lydia thought. The man was clearly nervous about sharing this part of his story, and a person showing this much reluctance would have an entertaining explanation indeed.
He cleared his throat and placed the now empty glass on the table. “You see, I was under the impression that your activities were…not up to the standards of society.”
Lydia shook her head. “I am afraid I do not understand.”
“As it is, I had heard rumors that you were…involved, let’s say, with an older man…”
“Involved?” Helen asked, clearly not liking what she was hearing. Lydia could not blame the woman; she did not like where this conversation seemed to be heading either.
He took a deep breath and his words all came tumbling out with his exhale. “That you have been involved in late-night trysts with men, which led me to follow you, which in turn led me to see you embracing that man with the beard.” He swallowed visibly. “Then, when I heard the man in the alley asking you to remove your clothes, I thought…well, I suppose you understand what I thought his words to mean.”
Lydia should have been offended, and perhaps later she would be, but for now she could not help but laugh, which she did—wholeheartedly. “You thought I was having some sort of rendezvous with that man?”
William reddened further. “I suppose that is exactly what I thought.”
Lydia found it difficult to catch her breath, she was so choked with laughter. Late-night trysts with Mr. Lancing? The idea was nothing short of ridiculous. She found him intelligent and enlighten
ing, but someone with whom she wished to be intimate? The idea was absurd!
“I have been accused of many things, but this has to be the most outrageous of them all!” she said between gasps as she wiped tears from her eyes. “Mr. Lancing and I?” She laughed harder.
William smiled, though it was clear he did so with a bit of discomfiture. Of course he was uncomfortable; he had just insulted her in an outrageous manner, and all she could do was laugh about it! Yet, what else could she do? There was no sense in being angry with the man; it was not his fault these rumors had started. It was the famous tongue-wagging of the ton. Hateful women!
“I am sorry I believed such things about you,” William said. “But you can see how I came to my conclusions.”
Lydia dabbed at her eyes. “Then maybe I should clarify for you.”
“Please,” he replied eagerly.
It took a few moments for her to explain how she had come to attend the meetings at the home of Mr. Lancing, but by the time she finished, William had joined in with their laughter.
“So, you have been attending philosophical meetings?” he asked with a chuckle. “Yes, that makes much more sense to me than what I thought previously.”
“I should certainly hope so,” Helen said with an admonishing tone. She had sat with her arms crossed under her breasts the entire time without speaking a word, her face growing darker through the man’s report. She was not taking any of this as lightly as Lydia was.
“Oh, leave him be,” Lydia said. “It was all just a misunderstanding. Now I’m sure that William has a better appreciation of the situation.”
“I do,” William said earnestly. “I truly am sorry that I had believed such nonsense. In the beginning, I had dismissed all the rumors, but I was pulled into them by the end.”
“Well, I suppose we have all been pulled into one rumor or another in our lives,” Lydia said, thinking of what she had heard about William himself. Though she would leave such thoughts out of the conversation. “At least we are all in agreement as to what is the truth.”
Waltz 0f The Wallflower (Delicate Hearts Book 1) Page 7
