The Incorrigible Mr. Lumley

by Aileen Fish

  “I’ve never met the man,” Joanna confessed.

  Mr. Lumley looked at the next table again, but said nothing.

  Lady Hannah leaned close, whispering, “Ask me when we take a turn about the gardens later.”

  Her brother nodded. “I believe I’ll be ready for fresh air when this hand is through. What say you, Whitmore?”

  Whitmore nodded. “That would be wise, to walk before it becomes too chilly.”

  “Excellent, now we may finish this hand?” Mr. Lumley asked with a grumble, looking at his sister.

  “The play just came my way. Do not blame me for holding you up. Honestly, David, I do not know why you come to play cards. There is no prize for the first table finished.” She took her turn.

  Mr. Lumley slapped down another card. “I must suggest such a variation to Mother the next time we invite our friends to play. It should liven up the evening.”

  “Are you suggesting you find our company dull?” Lady Hannah pierced him with her glare.

  “No such thing. Whitmore and I’ve the good luck of being partnered with the prettiest ladies in attendance, and your wit’s no less sparkling.”

  Joanna giggled softly, and looked to see if their hostess could hear their discourse. Lady Ellsworthy was not known for her wit, and might not appreciate the banter. “Come now, you two, you must get along, even if it pains you to be civil toward one another.”

  “I shall speak to you, Lady Joanna, and ignore my brother. That will keep the peace. Have you been to the King’s Opera House yet? I saw a performance last week that was most enjoyable.”

  “No, I haven’t been. Northcotte mentioned escorting me one evening, but he’s been so very busy of late.” Some nights, the light still burned in his study when she returned home from an assembly, but the door was always closed so she never entered.

  “You should have him join you one evening when we’ll be attending the same ball. He could keep David company while we enjoy ourselves.” Lady Hannah looked from Joanna to her brother.

  Joanna noticed Mr. Lumley’s brows draw together briefly before she responded. “I’m afraid he’s not much for dancing.”

  “Neither is David. It would be perfect.”

  Mr. Lumley cleared his throat. “I’m capable of choosing my own friends, minx. And I’m certain Northcotte would prefer to keep an eye on his sister, should he attend, much as I do.”

  Lady Hannah lifted one card in her hand, then another, as if indecisive. “You say such things, but how much trouble can we get into in a crowded ballroom with half the ton observing?”

  “You’d be surprised,” he grumbled.

  Joanna coughed away the laughter that bubbled up inside her. Was Mr. Lumley thinking of his own exploits, or some scandal of past years? He didn’t seem the type to take advantage of an innocent, but a good many less-than-innocent ladies frequented these balls. Imagining him with a light-skirt caused a band to form around her middle. She played her turn without taking the time to be certain it was the best move. Mr. Lumley’s frown told her it probably was not.

  Thankfully, the game ended soon and she and Lady Hannah rose. The two gentlemen followed. Mr. Lumley came around the small table and offered his elbow. “Shall we tour the garden? I understand Lady Ellsworthy has some excellent statuary.”

  “Yes, that sounds pleasant.” With her gloved hand on his arm, Joanna followed Lady Hannah and Mr. Whitmore out the French doors.

  As they wandered past the marble benches and ornate fountain, a lovely arbor covered in lavender blooms came into view. Mr. Lumley inhaled deeply, then said, “Jasmine.”

  “I believe it’s wisteria,” Joanna replied.

  “Wisteria in a perfume? Do you have it made especially for you?”

  She realized then what he’d referred to. “Oh, I thought you meant the arbor. Yes, my perfume is jasmine.” The heat that warmed her cheeks was silly. His taking notice of little things meant nothing. He’d done nothing to indicate his interest, other than dance with her on a regular basis and go riding with her and Lady Hannah several times. Should she make her interest more plain?

  Walking next to him felt so natural. Their strides matched, and he was very attentive to where she stepped, to avoid ruining her white kid slippers. The warmth of him beside her offered an unusual comfort, similar to when she hugged Patriot. She smiled at that thought. What would he think if he knew she compared him to her horse?

  Joanna chewed her lip. Mr. Lumley was fully aware of why she was in London, and that her brother had given her an ultimatum. She had to interpret the fact that he’d not pushed to deepen their acquaintance as his not wanting to do so. She needed to take a good look at the rest of the gentlemen at these assemblies and do what was needed to find a suitable husband. Before her brother found one for her.

  “You’re quiet.”

  She started, and offered him a small smile. “I’m sorry. I get lost in my thoughts sometimes.”

  “Where did they take you on such a pleasant afternoon?”

  What should she say? She couldn’t blurt out her fears about finding a husband. “Just reflecting on my time in London.”

  “Ah, yes, the high point of a young lady’s year. Has it been everything you wished for? You’ve only been here a few weeks, but if your schedule has been anything like Hannah’s, I imagine you’ve been busy every minute.”

  “It does seem that way. I suppose it’s better than having no invitations at all, but I miss having a lazy afternoon to sit under a tree and read.”

  “You should schedule time for that, then. Hannah doesn’t read much, but perhaps one of your other friends would enjoy taking a book to the park.”

  She had to press closer to him to avoid getting her gown caught on a rose bush. His arm came around her shoulders, whether to steady her or him, she was not certain. Her skin heated from the contact, which ended too soon for her liking. When he stood that close, she could smell his soap, and the sweetness of punch on his breath. If he kissed her, would he taste as sweet? She couldn’t resist looking at his lips, and licking her own.

  He groaned, or cleared his throat, and shifted slightly to put some distance between them. Obviously he was not as affected by her nearness as she was. She sighed and quickened her pace to catch up to Lady Hannah.

  David let Joanna hurry ahead and took a moment to compose himself. When she’d licked her lips, his muscles had tightened in need. He tugged at his cravat and shut out the image of her tongue pressed against that pale pink skin. Kissing her was not part of the plan, no matter how tempting she was.

  And she tempted him mercilessly. He could no longer convince himself his interest in her was purely to discover what connection Northcotte had to the poisonings. By now, he couldn’t recall why he’d ever thought she would know anything. Or why befriending her would help him find the answers he sought.

  He was such a fool. Yet he’d had nothing to compare their friendship to. His relations with willing widows were all aboveboard, both parties understanding sex was the only connection between them. He had no female friends, other than those young ladies he knew through his sisters, or were family connections. Plainly, he had no real understanding what spending time with Lady Joanna would do to him.

  He liked her. Enjoyed her laughter, and discovering what she was thinking. He was genuinely concerned that she could be forced to marry Sir Frederick.

  He shook his head. He was not supposed to develop feelings for her. His scheme did not involve falling for her. And he hadn’t really considered what would happen to her when he walked away after learning what he needed to know.

  This was a bad scheme all around. As David lengthened his stride and closed the distance between him and the other three, he decided he needed to find a resolution that would be kind to Lady Joanna. Before she was hurt.

  Chapter Nine

  Pacing the fading Turkish carpet in her chamber, Joanna wrung her hands and contemplated the evening ahead. Molly clutched a strand of pearls to her chest, her eyes
pleading. Joanna shook her head. “I won’t wear any jewels. It’s bad enough Robert has forced me to attend this evening. Sir Frederick! Molly, have you seen the man? I’m not shallow enough to complain over his looks. If I could believe his manner was lacking due to ignorance, I should not belittle him. He is so arrogant, yet completely unaware of how a gentleman behaves.”

  “Yes, my lady, so you’ve said. But please, his lordship insists I make certain you look your best whenever you go out.”

  “And you have done your best, Molly. Should he complain, I‘d inform my brother you are not to blame if he finds anything about me lacking. I truly doubt he’ll notice, though. He will have Lady Barbara on his arm. He’ll not see me.”

  Molly set down the pearls and picked up several hairpins. “Will you allow me to at least secure your curls? I couldn’t bear it if your coiffure fell before you returned home.”

  Joanna paused, her arms folded in front of her, her gaze fixed on the mirror. Molly was proud of her station, and Joanna’s appearance reflected on her servant. No matter how badly she wished to appear plain and undesirable, it was not fair of her to injure Molly’s reputation in the process. “Do what you must. But please, don’t do it too well.”

  A knock sounded on the door. Molly opened it and Joanna saw one of the younger footmen standing in the hallway. He cleared his throat. “His lordship wishes to know if you are ready. Sir Frederick has arrived and the gentlemen are waiting in the study.”

  “Thank you, Thomson. Please inform his lordship I shall be down presently.”

  He nodded and scurried away, showing his youth in his speed and lack of decorum. Molly closed the door and returned to Joanna, pushing a few more pins into the bun. “There, that should hold.”

  Joanna offered a smile she didn’t feel. “Thank you. You may go now, get some rest before I need you to help me undress later.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  Joanna’s hand hesitated over the perfume bottles. Her favorite bergamot-laden scent calmed her immensely. She would prefer to wear it, but didn’t wish Sir Frederick to think she’d worn anything to please him. The heavier French fragrance would never do. For a moment, she wished she could run to the stables, rub her hand in some horse sweat and apply it liberally, but the moment passed quickly. Robert would not find the humor in the action.

  Skipping any sort of fragrance, she rose, picked up her pelisse and went to face her doom. An entire evening listening to Sir Frederick speak on whatever he deemed suitable conversation. Remembering their exchange on the dance floor that one evening, she suddenly feared he would say nothing the entire night. People would talk about her strange escort who ignored her.

  She found her brother and Sir Frederick sharing a drink. They both rose and bowed when she entered.

  Robert smiled. “There you are. I was growing concerned.”

  “I am ready, as you see. How do you do, Sir Frederick?”

  “I’m well. Shall we be off? I understand the traffic will be quite heavy.”

  Apparently, he didn’t frequent The King’s Theatre, if his only knowledge of the traffic was secondhand. Steeling her nerves, she took his arm and walked with him to the carriage waiting outside. Thankfully, they were taking her brother’s carriage and picking up Lady Barbara on the way. At no time would she be alone with Sir Frederick and subjected to whatever whims he might have for after the opera. Lady Barbara was always pleasant company, and Joanna looked forward to that part of the evening.

  Once they entered the opera house and found Sir Frederick’s box, or the one he’d borrowed the use of for the evening, Joanna made certain Lady Barbara sat beside her. “Have you heard Puccita’s work?” Joanna asked.

  “No, but I understand it’s very moving.”

  “This will be my first time, also,” Joanna said.

  Sir Frederick leaned their way. “I was under the impression Mozart’s operas are much better. When performed in English, however.”

  “How interesting.” Joanna unfurled her fan, giving it a nervous flutter.

  “It’s an obvious thought,” he continued. “What’s the point of them singing in a language one doesn’t understand?”

  Joanna’s eyes widened. She caught Lady Barbara’s equally astonished gaze. “Sometimes the emotion of the words comes through, regardless of the language.”

  “Most who suggest they understand the Italian operas are pretentious fools.” Sir Frederick’s nose rose with his haughtiness.

  She couldn’t bring herself to respond. She only wished Robert had heard. She turned back to Lady Barbara. “Were you at Lady Faraday’s musicale last week?”

  The petite brunette shook her head. “I had other plans.”

  Robert added, “We attended a reading. It was quite interesting, or so I thought.”

  “Yes,” Lady Barbara added. “The gentleman speaker had only recently returned from the Colonies. He’d spent six years among the natives there, learning their customs. They are quite civilized, I was surprised to learn.”

  Sir Frederick grunted. “I’ve seen paintings of the men. I can’t call face paint and breechcloths ‘civilized.’”

  “Just a few years back, half of London wore face paint with their powdered wigs,” Joanna said, trying to keep the hiss of disdain from her voice. She would not lower herself to his level.

  “That is quite a different matter,” he argued. “We were fully clothed, besides.”

  Luckily, the curtain opened as the orchestra began to play. The first act was a ballet, the fluid moves beautiful to observe. The box in which they sat was situated to the rear of the theatre, in the fifth level, just below the gallery. From there, most of the audience was visible. Joanna was not surprised to discover most of the attendees spent more time watching the other occupants of the boxes than the performance. More of the ton would be interested in who sat with whom, when inquiring about an evening at the Theatre, than how the dancers appeared.

  From the corner of her eye, Joanna saw her brother lean close to Lady Barbara and whisper something that made them both smile. For the first time, it struck Joanna her brother might be looking for a wife. He’d never said as much, but he likely would not until he’d spoken with the lady’s father. Lady Barbara would make a nice enough sister. Robert seemed much more at ease this evening. The line between his brows was barely visible, and he smiled often. Perhaps, if Joanna were lucky, Robert finding his own match might take some of the pressure off her. He might allow her another Season, or at least the trip to Bath with their aunt.

  Sir Frederick blew his nose into his handkerchief, then shoved the cloth into his pocket. He stared at the stage, not acknowledging Joanna’s presence, if he was at all aware of her. No whispered comments from him, no shared secrets. Why did he even bother to ask her to attend, if he had no interest in getting to know her? Would he be as cold and…well, tightly bound, with his wife?

  She couldn’t imagine sitting at the supper table with him every evening, much less sharing closer quarters. Robert couldn’t think she and Sir Frederick suited in any way. She searched for a reason her brother would insist she consider the man, but none came to mind.

  There could be no reason she would ever consider marrying him. The very idea made her stomach churn.

  To cheer herself up, she tried to imagine life with Mr. Lumley. Laughter in the morning room over coffee. Discussions on which foals looked the most promising. Afternoons spent riding in the paddocks. Evenings…she fluttered her fan to combat the sudden warmth of the box where she sat, and remembered where she was. The first act hadn’t ended, so her woolgathering most likely hadn’t been noticed by the others.

  Lady Barbara leaned toward Robert as his head lowered. Joanna sighed. She wished she could find someone with whom she could share tête-à-têtes. The more time she spent in London, it seemed, the lonelier she felt.

  Descending the stairs early the next morning, Joanna hoped to find Robert still at home. He was in the dining room hidden behind the newspaper. Joanna poure
d herself some chocolate from the pot at her place and took a sip. “When do you leave for the Goodwood Race Meeting?”

  “At the end of the week.”

  “I wish to come with you. I miss how we used to attend the meetings together as a family.”

  She heard his sigh, but he didn’t lower the paper. “Now isn’t the time to be leaving Town. Perhaps you could join me at the July meeting in Newmarket.”

  “That is two months away. I don’t know how I’ll survive an entire Season without seeing Patriot race. I wish to speak to Bruce about Patriot, be sure he’s still handling him correctly.”

  Now the newspaper lowered. Robert looked down his nose at her. “When did you develop this melodramatic affectation? You have missed many race meetings since Father died.”

  “Not by choice. And not since Patriot became old enough to race.” Joanna took another drink to break eye contact. She was no longer comfortable letting him see what was important to her. No longer certain he wished her to have what she wanted.

  “No matter. And Bruce is no longer Patriot’s groom. He died.”

  Her throat clamped shut. “What? How? When?”

  “At the First Spring Race Meeting. Apparently whatever made him too ill to race killed him.”

  “That can’t be.” Joanna’s eyes welled, but she blinked away the tears and drew in a breath. “He was exceptionally good with Patriot.”

  “His new groom has him performing well. He’s won several races, as you know.”

  “Who did you put with him? Patriot is very particular about whom he works with.”

  “A new man. Wilfred Winkler.”

  She tried to picture the man but drew a blank. “I don’t know him.”

  “As I said, he’s new. But I’m quite satisfied with him.” Robert took a drink of his coffee. “Once you have settled on a husband, I’ll allow you to leave London, if you prefer. Or, I can settle it for you this very day, and you may come with me to Goodwood.”