An Indecent Charade: Letitia's After Dark Regency Romance

by Alicia Quigley

  That encounter with Letitia was one of the rare times when Phillip had felt his heart might possibly become engaged, and his snubbing by her parent had left a lasting impression. While he could hardly be said to be wearing the willow for a lost love, Letitia’s open, pleasing ways and remarkable beauty had held a special, though unacknowledged, place in his heart ever since. This softness had been overlaid with so many layers of boredom, cynicism, and indifference that it would seem to have disappeared, but the sight of Letitia produced a sense of loss and longing that was entirely unfamiliar to him.

  He shook his head and walked on. It was foolish to be indulging in boyish fantasies; his path had long ago separated from Letitia Winwood’s, and he doubted a widow with small children would hold the same allure as had the laughing creature in the ballroom. That part of his life was over.

  The next evening Lord Eynsford presented himself at the Strancaster House promptly at eight o’clock. He was clad with great propriety in an evening coat and perfectly fitting knee breeches. He handed his hat and evening cape to the footman, and allowed the butler to show him to the elegantly appointed drawing room. Lord Exencour awaited him, and offered his guest a sherry.

  “I am afraid we must wait some minutes for the ladies to complete their toilettes,” he said with a smile. “I am sure it will be well worth it.”

  In the company of his old friend, Eynsford’s air of weary hauteur left him, and the two gentlemen were laughing when the door opened and Isobel entered. She paused a moment in the doorway, taken slightly aback by the sheer masculine beauty present in her drawing room. Her husband, by any measure, was a very handsome man, but he was cast quite in the shade by the marquess. Isobel blinked and smiled, then greeted her guest.

  “Lord Eynsford, how pleasant to see you again. You are so seldom in England that I feel honored to have you in my home.”

  The marquess kissed her hand gracefully and smiled down at her. She was very beautiful, her auburn hair and sparkling green eyes set off by her dress of white satin and silver net, trimmed with green velvet ribands. He felt a slight pang of envy at the obvious pride and love in Exencour’s eyes.

  “I am honored to be here, Lady Exencour,” he responded. “I have been complimenting my friend on his marriage. I was unaware that he had such excellent taste.”

  “Flatterer,” said Isobel. “But pray, continue. I have been married more than a year now, and my husband does not compliment me as he was used to.”

  “You wound me,” said Lord Francis, putting his arm about her waist. “If that is true, it is merely to prevent you from becoming swollen-headed. You know you are the most delightful creature in England.”

  Eynsford surveyed them with a smile. “I see that you have brought my bold companion to heel, ma’am,” he said. “In our wild days in Spain, Francis did not stay with one woman long.”

  Isobel seated herself on the settee and patted the place next to her. “Come, my lord, sit by me and tell me of my husband’s time in Spain. I fear he will not furnish me with any but the most innocuous descriptions of his stay in that land.”

  This brought more laughter from the men. “I do not dare, my lady,” said the marquess. “Francis would surely have my head.”

  Isobel regarded the two gentlemen with pleasure. She was only slightly acquainted with the Lord Eynsford, but was aware of his reputation as a haughty and disagreeable fellow. When they had met on the previous occasions, he had seemed pleasant, if detached, but she now found him at his most polite and engaging.

  “Will Letitia be down soon?” asked Lord Exencour, when his merriment had passed.

  Isobel frowned slightly. “I am very sorry, but Lady Morgan declines to dine with us this evening. She sends her apologies to you, Francis, and to Lord Eynsford.”

  “Why is this?” asked Lord Exencour. “Is she unwell?”

  Isobel paused, and gave Lord Eynsford a considering look. “Well, we are among friends, so I will be honest. Letitia is, I fear, quite uncomfortable at meeting any gentleman of fashion such as Lord Eynsford. You must understand, my lord, that Lady Morgan was not well-treated by her husband or her cousin, and has taken a rather strong dislike to the idea of the haut ton. I am sure it is a prejudice that will pass with time, but just now it is very much in the front of her mind. She begged me to make her excuses, and I could not refuse.”

  Eynsford was conscious of an unexpected flood of disappointment washing over him, but schooled his countenance.

  “What a shame,” said Lord Exencour. “Eynsford was looking forward to renewing an old acquaintance with Lady Morgan.”

  “Indeed? When did you meet Lady Morgan?” asked Isobel.

  “‘‘Twas nothing more than a dance at a ball some years ago,” he said calmly. “I recall that she was a delightful partner. What a shame that she should take such a dislike to Society, as she will be greatly missed.”

  “Indeed,” said Isobel. “I constantly encourage her to enjoy herself more. I will admit in private that there is nothing in her husband to mourn, but I am distressed to see Letitia allowing his memory to further influence her life. But she seems quite determined, and I must wait and hope that she changes her mind.”

  Lord Eynsford smiled. “As do we all, I am sure,” he said. He turned the conversation to other topics, and soon they went into the dining room to eat. He remained a delightful companion, but in the back of his mind was a certain sense of discomfort. He had scarcely realized how much value he had placed on once again encountering Lady Morgan, and he was distressed by the depth of disappointment he felt.

  Chapter 10

  After dinner, the trio of Eynsford and Lord and Lady Exencour continued to the theater, where their presence attracted a certain amount of attention. Lady Exencour was renowned for her dashing sense of fashion and her two companions were well-known members of the Corinthian set; thus anyone who pretended to sartorial elegance was interested in their appearance. They looked quite striking, with Isobel’s auburn head and white and silver gown setting off the gentlemen’s blondness and dark evening clothes.

  “I say, Eynsford has returned to England,” observed Horace Worth to his mother, the Dowager Countess of Twytham. “He is unbending amazingly, too; he ain’t the sort of fellow to be seen enjoying himself, but I swear I just saw him laugh.”

  The Countess put up her lorgnette and observed the Exencour box. She snorted. “It’s that Isobel Exencour,” she said. “A shameless minx. You think she’d be content with catching young Wheaton and his fortune, not that she needed it with all that money of her own. Then his brother died, and she’ll be a duchess someday. Now she seems intent on enslaving Eynsford.”

  Horace sputtered. “That isn’t fair, Mama. She and Exencour are very happy, by all accounts, and I know he is a friend of Eynsford’s. Did you know Lady Morgan is staying with them? I saw her the other day; she is still very lovely.”

  His mother turned her glass on him. “Don’t even think about it, Horace,” she said. “You have to marry money, not some penniless widow with two children, no matter how pretty she is.” She turned back to the Exencour box. “Now, between those three there’s more money than in the Bank of England. Unfair, I call it.”

  During the interval the Exencour’s box filled up alarmingly. Many of the visitors wished to greet the viscount and viscountess, but the majority were there to hail the return of Eynsford to England. Any number of fashionable bucks crowded the box and several mothers seized the pretext of the slightest acquaintance with Isobel or Eynsford’s mother to display their blushing daughters. Isobel watched in amazement as their charming companion turned into a bored and cynical Tulip of Fashion, eyeing the intruders coldly and dispensing caustic comments. More than one hopeful miss wilted under the considering look he directed at her from behind his quizzing glass.

  In the carriage during their ride home Isobel asked her husband about his friend. “For he was entirely delightful when we were alone, but he seemed to live up to his reputation as a haughty fe
llow when others approached us,” she said.

  Lord Exencour smiled. “Phillip is a good sort. I have known him for many years; he was a brave officer and is an extraordinary diplomat. But he was deeply affected when he inherited the title some years ago; the world suddenly beat a path to his door, and it has made him cynical.”

  Isobel smiled. “And yet he is so very pleasant when he is with friends,” she said. “Francis, I have an excellent idea. Would not he and Letitia make a delightful pair?”

  Lord Exencour groaned. “Isobel, your friend is widowed barely two months and you are already planning her next wedding? What became of the Isobel Paley who thought marriage a trap?”

  Isobel laughed and took her husband’s hand. “She has learned what a delightful thing a good husband can be. You can vouch for Eynsford’s character and I can see for myself how very kind he is. Think how delightful it would be for Letitia. He is wealthy, charming and humorous, and they both have a dislike of Society. And how handsome they would look together!”

  “Now you have only to overcome the objections of the principals, for you have quite convinced me,” said Lord Exencour. “However, as Letitia swears she will not marry again, particularly a gentleman of fashion, and Eynsford spoke to me only yesterday of his doubts that his heart will ever be engaged, how do you hope to accomplish the thing?”

  “It will be difficult, but not impossible,” said Isobel. “I vow, I owe it to Letitia to settle her happily; for are we not indebted to her for our current state of bliss?”

  “Indeed we are, my love,” said Exencour. “But I do not think Eynsford is the man for her.”

  “We shall see,” said Isobel. A small silence fell as she pondered.

  Exencour sighed. “I see I shall be much neglected until your plot bears fruit,” he said in a put-upon tone. “I suppose this is how it is when a marriage begins to turn sour.”

  This produced a laugh and the hoped for kiss from his wife. All thoughts of Letitia and Eynsford faded from Isobel’s mind.

  Eynsford had returned home in a curiously abstracted mood. He chose not to retire immediately, but repaired to his library, a bottle of brandy at his side and his dog at his feet. His long, slim fingers fondled the hound’s silky ears, and deep brown eyes met those of lapis blue.

  “Why does her face haunt me, Foxer?” he asked. The hound looked silently at him, and placed its wet nose in his palm.

  “She is more beautiful than most women, I grant you,” said the marquess. “But I danced with her only once. I suppose she would not even recall my name if she saw me now.” The dog licked his wrist.

  Eynsford smiled bitterly. “Indeed, it would be wonderful if she did know me, for I was much less cynical then.” He resumed stroking the dog’s ears, each stroke pulling the hound’s eyes closed, an expression of bliss on its face. It seemed to soothe the man as well, for the hard expression left his face and he looked oddly young and vulnerable.

  “She was very beautiful and charming, wasn’t she?” he asked the dog, who whined in reply and settled his chin on the marquess’ feet. Eynsford refilled his glass with brandy and sat back, turning the glass in the candlelight, watching the flames glow in the amber fluid. He sipped thoughtfully and the dog lay silently, looking up at him. Suddenly the man put the glass down with a snap, startling Foxer, who sat up and nosed under his elbow.

  “You are right, I am a fool, and, unbelievably, a sentimental fool. The lovely Lady Morgan fills my thoughts, and yet, how am I to pursue a lady who not only is not dazzled by my title and fortune, but will not even meet me because of them?”

  The dog wagged its tail and yipped encouragingly.

  “You encourage me in my infatuation, Foxer?” said the marquess. “Perhaps you are right. Exencour thinks highly of her, and any woman who would turn down an introduction to the Marquess of Eynsford must have a remarkable character. I shall see what I can do.”

  Foxer eyed him thoughtfully, and then, judging the excitement to be over, settled on the hearthrug with a hearty sigh. The marquess gazed into the flames, a thoughtful look on his face.

  Chapter 11

  The following morning Isobel arose and went down to breakfast to find both her husband and Letitia there before her. They were discussing the play the Exencours had seen the evening before, and Isobel did not hesitate to express her opinion.

  “It was dreadful,” she said decisively. “I cannot think how some people have come to praise it.”

  “I’m sorry your evening was not pleasant,” said Letitia.

  “On the contrary, the evening was very pleasant, despite the poor quality of the acting,” said Isobel. “We had a delightful companion in Eynsford and managed to amuse ourselves quite tolerably. It is a great shame that you did not join us for dinner. I think you would have liked Lord Eynsford very much. Do you not agree, Francis?”

  Lord Exencour put down his fork and gave his wife a reproving glance. “I consider Phillip Masham to be a very good friend,” he said cautiously.

  “There,” said Isobel. “If Exencour finds him pleasant, you may be sure that he is. I myself was quite taken with him; I have met him before, of course, but I have never really conversed with him. He is so amusing and attentive. What a pity you did not join us at dinner, Letitia. I am sure you would have been quite charmed.”

  Letitia looked up from her toast, a smile in her eyes. “Indeed?” she said.

  “Definitely,” said Isobel. “Eynsford is so astonishingly handsome. And Francis tells me he is not over-fond of Society, so that is something you have in common.”

  “He sounds like quite a paragon,” said Letitia.

  “Perhaps not a paragon, but an amazingly agreeable gentleman, all in all,” said Isobel. “I hope you will meet him sometime soon.”

  “I hope so too,” said Letitia, smiling. “But it is unlikely, is it not, as I am in black gloves?”

  “Just because you do not go to parties does not mean you must hide yourself completely from the world. It has been some time since Alfred died, and no one could say anything if you occasionally met people here at Strancaster House.”

  “But I shall not be at Strancaster House much longer,” observed Letitia. “Indeed, I have trespassed on your hospitality too long already.”

  “Don’t be silly, Letty,” said Isobel. “You are a most welcome guest. You cannot remove from here until we have found you a home, and nothing suitable has been shown to us yet.”

  “I have seen many lovely houses,” said Letitia. “It is you who always find fault. The ceilings are too low or the dining room is not large enough or the street is too noisy. I do not care about any of these things. I think I shall take that house in Kensington that we saw three days since; I was quite charmed by it.”

  “Letitia, how could you?” asked Isobel. “I don’t know why we even looked at that house.”

  “It is just the right size for the children and me and it has gracious, airy rooms,” said Letitia. “Most important, it is inexpensive. I think it will suit me very well.”

  “But it is in Kensington, which makes it absolutely out of the question,” objected Isobel. “No person of fashion lives in Kensington.”

  “Then it will suit me admirably,” rejoined Letitia. “I have absolutely no desire to cut a dash.”

  “Letitia, you cannot mean it,” said Isobel. “Even if you do not mean to move in Society, there will be no one in Kensington that you will find amusing at all. It is peopled entirely by tradesmen and cits. You will be bored to tears.”

  “But surely you will come to visit me?” said Letitia, feigning surprise.

  Isobel laughed. “Wretch!” she said. “Of course I will, and many others as well, I am sure. But there are so many delightful areas in which you could live, and it will seem very odd of you.”

  “It will suit me very well,” she said. “It is quiet and out of the way, and Kensington Gardens is there for the children to play in. I like that house the best of all those I have seen, and it is well within my m
eans. Perhaps in a few years, when the children are older, I might wish to move, but for now it is the very thing.”

  “If you think it will suit you, then you should take it,” said Lord Exencour. “You must not allow Isobel to ride rough-shod over you.”

  Isobel colored. “How unkind you are,” she said. “As though I would attempt to coerce Letty into anything. I merely wish for her to be happy, and I cannot think that Kensington will make her so.”

  Exencour smiled at his wife. “You must allow Letty to be the judge of that. When you are proved right and she is desperately bored, then you can rescue her.”

  “Indeed, Isobel, I am sure all will be well,” agreed Letitia. “When I crave excitement, I can visit you. Kensington is barely outside of Mayfair, not at the end of the world. I promise you, I will contrive somehow.”

  Isobel laughed. “Now you make me seem a bully. Indeed Letitia, if you wish to immure yourself in Kensington, then you shall. I am sorry if I tried to thwart you; I only want to see you happy again, as you were when I first met you. Immediately after breakfast we shall lease that house for you, and you will see how quickly you are settled in your own home.”

  Isobel was as good as her word and summoned Exencour’s secretary, assigning him to procure the lease on the desired house in Kensington. She then ordered the carriage to be brought around.

  “For,” she said, “despite the fact that your circumstances are straitened, you will need to make some purchases for your new home. Only think how delightful it will be to furnish a nice little house after that drafty Morgan Park, which, while it is a fine old mansion, is sadly depressing.”