An Indecent Charade: Letitia's After Dark Regency Romance

by Alicia Quigley

  “The mortgages on the estate are immense, my lady,” observed Mr. Linkwall. “Your husband did not seem to care for the land except as a source of income, and his father was little better. Your dowry could have served to salvage the estate at the time of your marriage, but I am afraid Lord Morgan chose to put that money to other uses. There is nothing left of it.”

  “If I may make a suggestion, I believe it would be best if Lady Morgan gave up the idea of preserving the estate and sold it,” said Lord Bainstall. “To attempt to carry on for years with a woman at the head of Morgan Park, until young James is able to assume his duties, is simply to incur more debt and disintegration. With the money realized from the sale, James could lead a comfortable life, and the title will be retained, of course. Lady Morgan and the children are welcome to live with Lady Bainstall and me; in this way her income can be saved for James’ education and Emily's dowry. My wife is sickly and Lady Morgan could aid her about the house. There is nothing quite so unattractive as a woman living alone when she has male relatives to turn to.”

  During this speech Letitia had gradually looked more and more amazed, and Lady Exencour was clearly extremely annoyed. Before her amused husband could stop her, she launched into speech.

  “Lord Bainstall, I suggest that you rethink these ideas of yours. You are apparently unaware that I have for many years managed my own estate in the Cotswolds. Lady Morgan, if she chooses, can be an able manager of Morgan Park, as her brain is every bit as capable as yours, if not much more so. As for your suggestion that she live in your home, which was once her father's, as a poor relation, I do not hesitate to tell you that I find the notion so incredible as to be unbelievable.”

  Lord Bainstall listened with raised eyebrows to this speech. “I must inform you, Lady Exencour, that I find your interference in this matter to be most unusual,” he said. “If your husband chooses to indulge your whims of being a lady of independence, that is his business, but you can hardly expect others to agree with him. Letitia has always been a gently-bred female, with no pretensions to the unattractively strong-minded ways that you display. I am merely proposing a solution which will enable her to continue in the path which she has chosen, and which, I believe, is the correct one for a female.”

  Isobel's color was greatly heightened, and it was obvious that she had a reply to this comment, but Letitia stepped in. “Please do not continue this conversation,” she said. “While I appreciate your defense of me, Isobel, it is not necessary.” She turned to Lord Bainstall, who was bestowing a smug look on Lady Exencour. “I can speak for myself. Cousin, I appreciate your interest in my affairs, but I have no intention of selling Jamie's ancestral estate, or of coming to live with you at Bainstall. It is no longer my home, but yours, and I would not care to put your wife in the position that my return must engender. I do not know what course I shall take, but that one is not open to me.”

  Isobel was now able to return Lord Bainstall's look in kind, and a small silence fell. Lord Exencour stepped into the breach.

  “I believe that there is a ready solution to Lady Morgan's problem, which no one has mentioned up to this point,” he said quietly. “This property, while heavily encumbered, should be able to produce a decent income still, and I am sure there are individuals who would find it a pleasant home. If Lady Morgan were to lease it until such time as James is capable of assuming his rightful place, the income would be sufficient to pay off the worst of the debts, and would prevent her from having to manage the estate herself. This would, of course, necessitate Lady Morgan and her children living entirely on her jointure, which, while it may cause her to practice certain economies, would not be impossible.”

  “What an excellent idea,” said Isobel briskly. “I might have thought of it myself if I were not distracted by other nonsensical suggestions.” She directed a severe look at Lord Bainstall. “It would answer your needs very well, Letitia.”

  “I agree,” said Mr. Linkwall. “While I have heard that Lady Exencour manages her estates most ably, Lady Morgan has no experience in that area, and would be hard pressed to take up the reins here, where all has been so mismanaged. This would enable her to relieve the greatest burden of the debts on the land without having to go to undue lengths herself.”

  Lord Bainstall steepled his fingers together. “It is not an impossible scheme,” he admitted. “Although I still think that selling the estates would relieve Lady Morgan of the worst of her cares.”

  “What is your opinion, Letitia?” asked Isobel, taking her friend's cold hands in her own. “I think perhaps Exencour has come up with an excellent solution for you and your family.”

  “It sounds a workable notion,” said Letitia. “I own that I had not looked forward to continuing to live in such an isolated spot with only two small children for companionship. If Mr. Linkwall looks into this matter for me, and finds that the rent will serve to pay off the worst of the mortgages, then perhaps it would be the best solution.”

  “I will be glad to do so, my lady,” said Mr. Linkwall.

  “If you are set on this course, which is against my recommendation, you will need a place to live,” said Lord Bainstall. “Once again, I must stress that my home would be the best place for you and the children. They would be raised in a proper atmosphere, with the influence of a strong man for James to model himself after.”

  A smile crept into Letitia's eyes. “I had not wanted to come live with you before, Cousin, and the prospect that my son might model himself after you convinces me that it would be disastrous. I believe I will have to make other arrangements.”

  Lord Bainstall gasped and gave her an astonished glare. “Letitia! This levity is most unbecoming, and I must lay it at the door of Lady Exencour, who seems to be quite dead to any notion of propriety. I beg that you will cease this unfeminine behavior and begin to pack so that we may leave as soon as possible.”

  Lady Exencour smothered a laugh. “I think Letitia has declared herself most forthrightly, my lord,” she said. “You are welcome to stay with Exencour and myself, Letty, or, if you prefer, and I imagine you will, we can help you to find a small house to rent in London. Then you can remain near your many friends and yet have your own home.”

  “I cannot believe that Lady Morgan would be so devoid of good sense as to set herself up in London,” said Lord Bainstall. “A woman alone, even a widow, must of necessity attract undue attention which she would find most displeasing.”

  “Cousin, I beg that you no longer worry about my affairs,” said Letitia. “I thank you for your attempts to guide me, but I find that my ideas do not agree with yours. Lady Exencour is quite correct; a small house of my own in London sounds delightful.”

  “I warn you, Letitia, if you follow this plan I must wash my hands of you,” said Lord Bainstall. “I cannot allow the world to think that I approve of such a plan. It may even make people think I did not offer you a home, as is my duty. If you come to grief, I will not be able to aid you.”

  Letitia looked Lord Bainstall directly in the eyes. “I appreciate your warning, Cousin, and agree that it would be sad indeed for you if I were to come to sorrow and you were to be blamed. I will be careful to inform all of my acquaintance that you disapprove highly of my course of action.”

  Lord Bainstall stood up. “I do not have to remain here and be subjected to this rudeness and folly. I see that you choose your friend, Lady Exencour, over your own family. I hope it is a decision you will not regret. If you will excuse me, I will prepare my bags and leave.”

  Chapter 5

  The others watched silently as Bainstall stalked from the room with an air of dignified injury, but as soon as the door closed behind him, Letitia began to laugh.

  “I know I should not be angry with him, when he means only to help me, but I cannot support his interfering ways,” she said.

  “Indeed no,” said Isobel. “He is the veriest prig, and it was clear to me that he wished you to live at Bainstall so you could act as an unpaid companion
to his wife. I am sorry that he is all the family you have and you cannot turn to others for aid. You will have to consider Exencour and me to be your family now.”

  “I already do,” said Letitia. “I am always aware of the gratitude I owe you both.”

  “Nonsense,” said Lord Exencour. “Any debt you might owe us is washed away by the fact that we would never have married without your help. Neither Isobel nor I are likely to forget that.”

  “Well, I must throw myself on your generosity once again,” said Letitia. “I will gladly take you up on your offer to help me find a house to rent in London. Most of my remaining friends are there, and I think it the best solution for me at this time. It will be some weeks before I can come, however; I must pack, see to the lease of the estate and attempt to settle Alfred’s debts before I can do anything else.”

  Lord Exencour cleared his throat. “I believe that in the matter of settling Morgan’s debts, this may be useful to you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. “Alfred’s man brought this to me yesterday, saying he found it stuffed in a pair of his master’s breeches. He did not wish to approach you before the funeral, so he gave it to me. I believe there are almost five hundred pounds there, which should go a long way towards satisfying your more pressing creditors.”

  “I never thought I would be grateful for Alfred’s gambling,” said Letty, taking the money. “But it seems that his winnings will for once be put to some good purpose.” A questioning look came over her face. “Is this really from his room? Or is this perhaps your money that you are attempting to give me to meet my most pressing needs? If that is so, Exencour, I cannot possibly accept this.”

  “Nonsense, Letitia. You speak as though I regularly carry about my person large sums of money to give to impecunious widows. You may ask Morgan’s valet if you doubt me.”

  Letitia colored. “I did not mean to insult you, Exencour. I merely do not wish to be a greater burden on you.”

  “I am not insulted, and you are not a burden,” said Lord Exencour. “I wish you would forget this nonsensical idea that Isobel or I could wish to be rid of you. We both admire your desire to support yourself, but you must allow us to help in any way we can.”

  Letitia smiled. “You are right, Exencour. I accept your help gladly. Mr. Linkwall, if you would be so good as to take this money and settle Lord Morgan’s more pressing debts, I would be most grateful.”

  Mr. Linkwall took the money with a bow, and began to pack up his papers. “I will look into leasing Morgan Park for a period of ten years, my lady,” he said. “That should be sufficient time to alleviate the most pressing of the mortgages, and by that time your son should be old enough to take an interest in his lands.”

  “Thank you,” said Letitia.

  The lawyer bowed and left, reflecting that Lady Morgan was fortunate to have friends on whom she might rely. For his part, he thought she had best seek a rich husband; she was very beautiful and still young, after all. But it was not his affair to meddle in.

  The Exencours and Letitia were left alone in the library. Letitia arose from her chair and strolled to the window, from which there was a view of the fields, now empty of crops. It continued to rain, and the bleak landscape offered little in the way of cheer.

  “I will leave you ladies now, and see if Lord Bainstall would like some company,” said Exencour. “I am sure that he will read me a lecture on your manners, Isobel. You are a sore trial to me.” He kissed his wife’s hand smilingly and left.

  Isobel turned to Letitia, who continued to gaze out the window. “I think you have a made a good decision, Letty,” she said. “I know it will be hard for you, but at least you should be able to retain the estate.”

  Letitia sighed. “In an odd way I will miss Morgan Park,” she said. “It is very isolated and I have been unhappy here, but it has been my home and the place my children were born. It will be very strange to live always in a large city like London.”

  “But think of the fun we will have, my dear. As soon as you are out of black gloves you will be able to rejoin Society. It will be just as it was in our first Season together! I will give a splendid party for you. Perhaps you will even meet another gentleman, one who treats you as you deserve.”

  Letitia shook her head. “It all sounds very lovely, Isobel, but it is impossible. I have no money to spend on fashionable fripperies, and I confess that the thought of parties quite overwhelms me. Nor do I want to find another husband. Alfred and my cousin seem to be fairly typical examples of English peers, and I do not find them attractive.”

  “But what of my husband, poor Exencour?” asked Isobel. “Surely you do not classify him with your Alfred and Bainstall?”

  “Exencour is the exception that proves the rule, Isobel. You have married the only good nobleman in England!”

  “You may be forgiven for thinking so, as you have had very bad luck,” said Isobel. “I admit that at one time I thought as you do now, yet you coaxed me to marry Francis. But I am sure that there is another true gentleman in this world. When you are lucky enough to find him, I will be cajoling you to wed him and I hope that you will change your mind.”

  “I plan to devote myself to my children,” said Letitia firmly. Then she smiled. “That sounds frightfully like a widow in a novel, does it not? Very well, I will see what the future holds. But I really have no interest in a suitor who is the least bit tonnish, Isobel; I am quite determined that if I marry again it will be to a quiet gentleman who has no interest in the fashionable world.”

  Chapter 6

  The Marquess of Eynsford viewed the assembly before him with a jaundiced eye. The rooms overflowed with the cream of the ton; while Almack’s did not have the most spacious rooms or the finest refreshments, it was still a venue in which any person wishing to be accepted by Society must appear. Fresh-faced young girls, newly out, were escorted by their ambitious mothers, while eligible gentlemen eyed the scene languidly.

  “Don’t look so stern, Phillip,” said the dowager marchioness of Eynsford. “People will think that you don’t wish to be here.”

  The marquess turned to his mother and smiled slightly. “They would be perfectly correct, a fact of which you are well aware.”

  “If you don’t care about the future of the Eynsford estate, I do,” said his mother stoutly. “You have been knocking about the Continent for years now, and one would think you would be ready to settle down. You are the last of my sons, and I wish the title to remain with your progeny, not those of your uncle.”

  “I would hardly call fighting the French and negotiating with Metternich ‘knocking about,’” the marquess replied plaintively. “And one scion of the Eynsford line is much like another, I would imagine.”

  “Nonsense. Your Uncle Robert was a fool, and his sons are worse.” The dowager frowned up at him. “You’re two-and-thirty, Phillip, and it is high time you were married. I was willing to put up with your nonsense before, but now it is time to accept your responsibilities.”

  Phillip Masham, Marquess of Eynsford, gazed at his mother, both annoyance and sympathy in his eyes. Despite the passage of time, she was still a beautiful woman, her high cheekbones and fierce blue eyes as memorable as the day she came out. The past five years had been difficult for her; his father had died, followed not six months later by the sudden death from pneumonia of his eldest brother, leaving behind a childless widow. At that time his mother had decided that Phillip, whose father had placed him in the military, should embark on a less physically hazardous career than leading cavalry charges, and he had been assigned to the diplomatic corps. The shocking death of his second brother in a sailing accident had made the diplomat a marquess, a position to which he had never planned or wished to accede.

  “Mother, dear,” he said sweetly, “I came here because you asked it of me. But you can hardly expect me to pick out one of these young women at random and hurry her off to the altar.”

  “No, but you can dance with some of them, and try to fin
d one to your liking,” the dowager answered bluntly. “Not that I’m terribly impressed; the lot of them look as though they have barely one thought to share.”

  The marquess raised his quizzing glass and surveyed the scene again. “Which should I lead out first,” he asked teasingly. “The girl with the squint, or the one with the shocking amount of jewelry strewn about her person?”

  “Lord, Phillip, I don’t care,” said his mother. “Surely one of ‘em must be reasonably attractive and able to speak two or three sentences without making a fool of herself.”

  “You set the bar very low, Mother,” said the Marquess.

  “Well, if you had a tendre for a respectable woman, I’d not say you nay,” she replied. “But I’ve never seen you in love, Phillip, so I don’t see why you should worry about that now. You’re far more interested in foreign opera singers and other men’s wives, so it hardly matters whom you marry. I suppose she must be able to put up with your nonsense, so a bit of stupidity might not be amiss.”

  He sighed. “I know I should be shocked at your conversation, Mother, but I seem to be inured to it. How do you know about my opera singers?”

  “All I hear from my friends is gossip about your doings. Do you take me for an idiot?” demanded his mother.

  “Decidedly not,” responded the marquess. “I would never make such a mistake.”

  “See that you don’t,” she snapped.

  “As long as we are here, I suppose I should do what I promised you, and dance with an eligible child,” he said, giving her a humorous look that belied the tone of their conversation. “Allow me to escort you to a seat.”

  The dowager took his arm, looking up at him with affection. The marquess was an extremely handsome man with thick, burnished gold, hair, astonishing dark blue eyes set under arched brows and heavy lids, a thin, straight nose, and mobile, well-cut lips. A passing stranger might well have noticed a resemblance to a painting of a Renaissance angel. This beauty of countenance, however, was marred by the harsh, cynical expression that habitually blanketed his features and the air of ennui he carried with him.