“Then I think that we will not need to detain you any longer. I am growing weary of your company, as I am sure Miss Paley is also, and I really cannot support your neckcloth for even a moment longer," said his lordship, properly bored. He offered Isobel his arm. "Come, Miss Paley, my groom has been waiting for some time, and I do not like to keep my horses standing longer than necessary."
Momentarily silenced, Isobel allowed him to lead her from the building, to where his phaeton stood outside. He handed her up into the high perch vehicle gracefully, in spite of her unorthodox costume. He dismissed Grissom, whose face was carefully blank, and gave his horses the office to move forward.
For a few moments Lord Francis was fully occupied in bringing the pair, restless from standing, under control. Isobel watched him in admiring silence. When the horses were again attending to their job, he glanced over at her, to see her regarding him from under her lashes, a grave expression on her face.
"I must thank you, Lord Francis, for rescuing me from what could have become an uncomfortable situation," said Isobel, a shade primly. She had to admit that her heart had taken a giant leap when Sir Francis had revealed himself in the Museum.
"You appeared to be defending yourself reasonably adequately," responded Lord Francis easily. "And, I truly believe that your credit with the ton would have survived Braithwaite's threatened actions. Still, it would have given rise to the sort of talk which any lady of refinement must find particularly objectionable, and I am happy to have been of service to you."
Silence reigned for a few moments as his lordship threaded his way between a large traveling coach and a wagon laden with a variety of agricultural products, attended by a stout individual who was seemingly intent upon occupying as much of the thoroughfare as possible. A short time later, Lord Francis was trotting his horses through the gates of Green Park.
“This is an unfashionable location for a drive,” he remarked. “But I feel that it would be best if we did not encounter any members of the ton with you dressed in that unusual costume.”
Isobel laughed. “Is it the wig, or the cut of my coat to which you take the strongest exception Lord Francis?”
“Actually, it is your Hessians. They are excessively baggy, particularly in the ankle, always a delicate area, requiring a master's cut. You should have had them made at Hoby’s, and as for their shine--it is quite clear that your valet has not been up all night mixing boot black with champagne to achieve that excuse for a polish,” he replied.
Isobel smiled in response, but made no comment, and seemed to sink into a brown study. Lord Francis drove on a ways, and then squeezing the reins gently he brought the grays down to a sedate walk. He transferred the reins into one hand and turned again to Isobel, an earnest look on his previously amused visage. She saw his expression and rushed into awkward speech.
"How did you know to find me at the meeting, Lord Francis?" asked Isobel. "I was confident that I had arranged everything so as to prevent discovery."
“By chance I recently found myself in Wales,” he said. “I took the opportunity to wait upon Lady Morgan, and prevailed upon her to tell me of your proposed actions. I could not allow my fiancée to take such a chance alone.” Lord Francis looked at her with so much meaning in his eyes that Isobel dropped her own at his statement. She felt a sense of guilt that she should cause discomfort to one who had always treated her honorably.
"Lord Francis, of course, I would not dream of holding you to your announcement of our fictitious engagement,” she said. “Your quick thinking saved me embarrassment, but now we must concoct some tale which will satisfy the tattling tongues, for although Braithwaite will certainly not expose me, I fear that we cannot depend on him keeping our engagement to himself."
"I feel certain that he will immediately inform as many of our acquaintance as possible," concurred Lord Francis happily.
"Upon my word, you do not seem very concerned, my lord. If you cry off, it will not reflect well upon you," said Isobel.
"You are forgetting, Miss Paley, that I have never had any wish to cry off. I have in fact twice proposed marriage to you and twice been refused. Now I find that after accepting my offer merely for convenience, you are planning to put an end to our brief connection and are indeed a heartless jilt. You perceive me blighted, and likely to fall into a fatal melancholy."
This was said with a melodramatic air so excessive that Isobel was forced to laugh, but she sobered immediately. "I have told you already, that if I were to marry, there would be no suitor more welcome to me than yourself, Lord Francis," she said. "However, I have no wish to marry. None," she reaffirmed, for her first denial somehow had seemed to sound weak and lonely.
"Can you not trust me with your reasons, Miss Paley? From the moment of our meeting you have dissembled about your character and interests. I have told you that I find your archaeological studies intriguing rather than repellent, and that I would encourage their continuation. Indeed, after listening to your speech today, my admiration is so boundless that I propose to purchase several additional ruins for you to study as a bride gift," he added teasingly.
"That is handsome of you indeed, my lord. But I have a great desire to unearth the ruins supposed to be lurking under the parish church at Strancaster. Could you arrange this also?"
They both laughed, easing the tension that hung between them, then sobered. Lord Francis attempted to take her hands, but the horses jobbed at the bit, and a few moments were occupied in bringing them to a halt. When Lord Francis again turned to Isobel she was staring intently at her fingernails.
"You are correct, Lord Francis, that I have misled you to the greatest degree possible about myself," she said. "And still you persist in courting me. Now you ask me to trust you with the fears that lead me to refuse to join my life with yours. It is very difficult to do so. The story is not mine alone, and I would not betray the trust of a friend..." Her voice trailed off. She greatly desired to explain herself to Lord Francis, but knew she could not share Letitia’s embarrassment without her permission.
"Would it help to know that my visit to Wales was not after all by chance, and that I visited Lady Morgan in order to understand her situation?" asked Lord Francis softly.
"Then how can you ask me to marry you?" Isobel burst out. "You have seen how she is treated by that monster, and the misery of the life she and her children lead. I will be no man's chattel; I will not be constrained to accept the abuse of a vicious wastrel who flaunts his mistresses in my face, while justice is truly blind! A married woman's place under the law is–is impossible, or rather, it is non-existence. It is not that I think that you would treat me so, but then Alfred seemed so charming, too, and you are a friend of his--I saw you with him just before he came to take Letitia away and you said--" Isobel seemed ready to burst into tears, and Lord Francis grasped her hands in his, stilling their frantic motions. He reached up to stroke her cheek gently.
"Hush, my love, there is no need for this. I believe that there is a way out of this coil for both of us."
Isobel looked at him, a glint of tears rendering her always beautiful green eyes still larger, and darkening her lashes. She caught her breath.
"First of all, I would have you believe that I am no friend of Lord Morgan's," he said. "I have known him for many years, but we have never been more than acquaintances. I was not privy to his vices, and do not share them. However, I did hear rumors and discounted them, which I should not have done. You were right when you called me blind; because a man is well‑born does not mean he is well‑bred and I will be more careful of my acquaintance in the future."
"I should not have imagined that you condoned his actions," said Isobel. "I fear that I misjudged you."
"Not at all," said Lord Francis. "It was I who misjudged Lord Morgan, and it is said that a man may be known by the company he keeps. I wish you to know that Lady Morgan will not be further troubled by Lord Morgan, as he has departed on an extended visit to the Continent, at my behest.”
/> Isobel gazed up at him, wonder in her eyes. “You did that? For me?”
“For you. And for Lady Morgan,” said Lord Francis. “Next to you, she is the woman I most admire. You are very different from each other, in temperament and in situation, but you both bear yourselves with dignity. It is a quality to be admired.”
“Thank you,” said Isobel. “I am much easier now that I know Letitia is no longer under that monster’s rule.”
“I have made sure that she will be protected; if Lord Morgan were to return, I will be immediately contacted. She and her children will not come to further harm,” promised Lord Francis. “And now, my dear, I return to the much more interesting subject of our engagement. After I left Wales, I met with my solicitor. Apparently there is a legal status, known as a feme sole, which can allow you to retain control of your fortune and enable you to act independently of me under the law. It is most often used in the case of women operating businesses in the City, or failed marriages to allow a man and a woman to live separately. But Leighshill believes that it is not necessary for a couple to be at daggers drawn to enact such an agreement, although this use of it would be very unusual. I am afraid Leighshill was a bit shocked at my inquiries." Lord Francis paused. He did not feel that his proposal was proceeding in a romantic fashion, but he looked at Isobel to discover that she was gazing at him as though he were Lord Byron, Sir Galahad, and Bonnie Prince Charlie rolled into one.
"Lord Francis, you would do this for me?" she asked, with a look of wonderment.
He grinned at that, his eyes lighting up with pleasure. "Why should I not? Your repeated refusals have left me feeling somewhat knocked about, and if the mere abrogation of my rights to your wealth and the acknowledgement that you will continue to exist as a person after our marriage will bring you to accept my suit, why that is little enough to pay for the soothing of my vanity."
Isobel laughed. "Then it is only your vanity that brings you to pursue this course?" she asked.
" I must admit to some feelings for you as well,” he replied with a smile. “Am I so fortunate then as to believe that this time I will not be refused?"
Isobel gazed out across the park to where the cows grazed contentedly.
"It seems that you have removed all possible reasons for me to deny you, my lord," she said. "If you truly wish to wed one who has proved so difficult, then I must allow that there is no other I would consider."
"You must remember that a feme sole's husband cannot be held liable for her debts,” said Lord Francis. Those Roman coins I returned to you in Ballydendargen are the last I will be obliged to give you, and when you find yourself at point non plus after wasting your entire fortune at Madame Celine's and Lackington's, I will not be towing you out of the River Tick!"
"It is a trial, my lord, but one which I shall have to bear," said Isobel meekly. She placed one of her hands on his. “Your offer, and your protection of my friend, make me see that I have misjudged you, and that I can trust in your integrity. Marriage contracts can be drawn up with care, and while the broader law does give you great power over me, these documents, can protect me sufficiently. If you are willing to give me control over the use and disposal of my fortune, and allow me to take any children with me in the event that I choose to live apart from you, I will wed you without going to such extraordinary lengths.”
The horses shifted. Lord Francis minutely adjusted the reins and turned to Isobel, smiling. “I hope your willingness to concede the point is not merely because you plan to lose all of your fortune playing silver loo, and wish me to remain responsible for your obligations,” he teased. His face grew more serious. “But I am truly glad to hear this. Leighshill tells me that such an arrangement would cause amazement, and talk. In addition, you might actually have to own a business in the City of London, which would create a very odd appearance. Since it seems quite likely that brother will never produce an heir, I think it probable that my parents would much prefer that the mother of the future Duke of Strancaster not be engaged in trade.”
Isobel felt her tension and anxiety melt away at the heartfelt happiness written on his face. “Do I look as happy as you, my dear?” she asked. “I hope so, for I truly feel that I have attained my heart’s desire, and found the one person with whom I can openly and honestly be myself.” She gazed up at him, her heart in her eyes, but as he bent down to kiss her he stopped, his face a picture of mixed emotions.
"Dash it, Isobel, I simply cannot kiss you in that dreadful wig!" he exclaimed.
Isobel flushed, and reached up to remove the offending article. Her own chestnut curls fell about her face, and she turned her green eyes up to his grey ones.
"Is this better, Francis?" she inquired.
In answer Lord Francis leaned forward and placed his lips on hers. A sound of pleasure came from Isobel, and she flung her arms about his neck. Lord Francis responded by drawing her closer and a few moments were lost in shared enjoyment of the kiss. The horses, however, showed little tolerance for love making, and all too soon Lord Francis was forced to attend to them.
"I had best take you home and get you into some respectable garments, or all of London will be talking of us in ways that would make being a tradesman seem completely respectable," observed Lord Francis.
"Indeed, I have no desire to create the kind of gossip that would make the Duke and Duchess take an aversion to me before we meet,” smiled Isobel. She picked up the ill-fitting wig, and attempted to once again hide her hair beneath it. “I am quite convinced that it would be better to keep them in ignorance of my idiosyncrasies until after we are married,” she laughed. “Then, when I take a fancy to excavate those ruins under Strancaster church, they make take more kindly to the notion.”
A Word from the Author:
I hope you enjoyed reading A Lady of Passion. It's my wish that my novels entertain as well as provide an accurate glimpse into the periods in which they're set.
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Other Titles by this Author:
A Most Unusual Situation: A Traditional Version Georgian Romance
(Sweet, no sex; based on a true story; Allegra and Adam's tale)
A Duchess Enraged: An After Dark Version Georgian Romance
(The explicitly sexy version of Allegra and Adam's tale)
The Secret Bluestocking: Isobel's Traditional Regency Romance
(Sweet, no sex; Isobel and Francis' unconventional adventures)
A Lady of Passion: Isobel’s After Dark Regency Romance
(The explicitly sexy telling of Isobel and Francis' story)
That Infamous Pearl: Rowena’s Traditional Regency Romance
(The sweet, no sex tale of Rowena & Alaric’s romantic mystery)
A Collector’s Item: Rowena’s After Dark Regency Romance
(The very sexy version of Rowena & Alaric’s adventures)
Sense & Sensuality: Caroline’s After Dark Georgian Romance
(The steamy tale of Caroline and Tristan’s affaire de coeur)
COMING SOON!
An Honest Deception: Letitia’s Traditional Regency Romance. If you remember, Isobel (of The Secret Bluestocking and A Lady of Passion) had a good friend with a beastly husband. An Honest Deception is the tale of that friend, Letitia, and what happens after the events of The Secret Bluestocking. Read on for a sneak peek!
An Honest Deception
Chapter 1
It was a January day in Wales and the skies wer
e blanketed with those peculiarly English low-lying clouds that enclose the world and make it small. A light snow fell, and the damp permeated everything, no stone, no plant, no animal could be immune. Morgan Place would have fared ill in this unforgiving light even if the gravel of the drive had been recently refreshed, the shrubs which ornamented it trimmed of late, and the building subjected to proper upkeep. As it was, the dilapidation of the estate was obvious as an elegant traveling carriage, perched on the best springs and pulled by a team of very sweet-goers bowled up to the house. The door of the chaise opened and a modishly dressed gentleman sprang out, his fair hair ruffled slightly in the wind. He waited as the coachman pulled down the steps and then handed out an extremely fine lady, whose traveling dress of grey silk twill was in the first stare of fashion and became her tall figure admirably. Her auburn tresses were dressed rather severely and her hands were inserted in a large sable muff.
“Are there no servants here to assist Grissom with the horses?” wondered the gentleman aloud.
“There may not be. You know how very reduced Letty’s circumstances have been,” his companion replied.
The fashionable gentleman grimaced. “It seems you will have to wait a few moments for assistance,” he said to his coachman. “I will have the butler find someone to come out to you as soon as we are within.”
The groom nodded and watched as the gentleman gave his arm to the lady, helping her up the steps to the door. It was swathed in black crape, and together with the weeping skies and the crumbling stucco of the house’s facade, the scene exuded a distinct air of gloom. A black bow was tied about the knocker, and the gentleman lifted it, rapping firmly twice. The crepe muffled the sound and the knock echoed hollowly. They waited several moments in the misty rain for the door to open.
“Upon my word, Isobel, no grooms and now it seems no butler either!” exclaimed the gentleman. “Shall we be required to show ourselves in, I wonder?”
A Lady of Passion: Isobel's After Dark Regency Romance Page 28
