Secret Desires of a Gentleman

by Laura Lee Guhrke

  “After a cup of tea, and sitting here for a bit, my ankle’s much better,” she assured.

  “Amazing.” He leaned back with his tea, looking at her in feigned admiration. “To recover from an injury so quickly.”

  “Maria always was a brick,” Lawrence said. “But we must talk about her problem.”

  Here it comes, he thought. “Problem?” he repeated with a pretense of solicitous concern. “Do you have a problem, Miss Martingale?”

  “I do.” She set aside her tea and clasped her hands together, looking so much the pretty and helpless female that Phillip almost wanted to laugh. “I am in a dreadful hole.”

  “And you require our assistance?”

  “Yes. Terribly forward of me to ask, I know,” she added sweetly, “since we all went our separate ways years ago. But after bumping into your brother in such an extraordinary fashion, I cannot help but feel divine Providence has purposely brought us together again.”

  “How fortunate for you that God is so obliging,” Phillip murmured.

  She didn’t even have the good grace to blink. “Yes, isn’t it?” She paused a moment, then added, “The problem is in regard to my shop.”

  “Maria has leased the premises on the corner,” Lawrence put in. “Can you believe it? Small world, eh, what? She’s opening a bakery. At least that was her intention, but there’s been some sort of muddle, and she’s received an eviction notice.”

  She reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. It was wrinkled and stained, no doubt from having been crumpled into a ball during a fit of pique and thrown away. “I am being evicted for misrepresenting myself as a woman of good character,” she said with a tiny, unamused laugh as she unfolded the letter. “I cannot imagine how they came to conclude this about me,” she went on, the letter making a rustling sound as she tucked it back in her pocket. “I am a woman of the staunchest morality.”

  “Of course you are!” Lawrence said so heartily that Phillip didn’t know which of them surprised him more—Maria for the brass to claim a moral character, or Lawrence for agreeing with her. Women of staunch moral character didn’t go galloping off to Gretna Green with gentleman far above their station, nor did they break their promises, nor commit deceit to get their way.

  “It’s clear there’s been some sort of mix-up at Millbury,” Lawrence went on and turned to Phillip. “I explained to Maria that Millbury Investments is one of our companies, and that we actually own the building. She was stunned.”

  “You could have knocked me over with a feather,” she said with such solemnity that this time Phillip simply couldn’t suppress a dry chuckle, but he choked it back and took a sip of tea.

  “So,” Lawrence went on, “I promised her we’d set everything to rights.” Taking up her hand, he gave it a reassuring squeeze. “No one’s evicting her, and she needn’t worry about a thing.”

  Phillip sat up in his chair with a jerk, his amusement vanishing at once. “Lawrence,” he began, then stopped, watching as his brother’s fingers entwined with Maria’s in a protective manner that did not bode well.

  He tore his gaze from their joined hands and forced himself to speak. “Of course we shall investigate the matter, Miss Martingale,” he told her. After all, what else could he say? “But for now, I must beg you to pardon us.” Rising to his feet, he gestured to the clock on the mantel. “We have a dinner engagement this evening.”

  “The Savoy!” Lawrence cried. “Deuce take it, in the excitement of seeing Maria again, I’d forgotten all about it.”

  Phillip studied the soft pink mouth of the woman on the settee and he was not surprised. Maria had always been a damnable distraction. “We are expected at seven,” he said and looked into her eyes. “Miss Dutton,” he said with emphasis, “would be so disappointed if we were late.”

  “Then I mustn’t keep you,” Maria said, taking the hint. She pulled her hand from Lawrence’s, reached for her handbag, and stood up. “I appreciate any assistance you can offer.”

  “Not at all,” Lawrence said. Rising, he offered her his arm. “Allow me to walk you down.”

  “Thank you.” She curtsied to Phillip. “Good day, my lord.”

  “Miss Martingale.” He bowed, and as Lawrence escorted her out of the drawing room, he watched them go with deepening concern.

  Does he intend to marry Cynthia or not?

  Dutton’s frustrated words echoed back to him, and Phillip knew he had to make his brother see that it was time to settle down, take on commitments, be responsible. It was time for Lawrence to grow up, and Miss Dutton was his best chance to do so. Phillip had no intention of letting Maria get in the way.

  “That was a delightful surprise,” Lawrence said, breaking into his thoughts as he reentered the room. “Bumping into Maria Martingale, of all people. Right outside the door, too! Astonishing coincidence, eh?”

  “Yes,” he agreed, though what he found astonishing was how his brother could be so easily taken in. Anyone but Lawrence would have seen at once there was nothing coincidental about the encounter. But then, Lawrence had always been a fool for Maria. “But it isn’t proper for her to be calling on an unmarried man.”

  “She didn’t call on me. I told you, we bumped into each other outside the door, and her ankle was hurt.”

  Hurt ankle, my eye, he thought, but he decided to change the subject. “I’ve been thinking what to do with you now that you’re home, and I’ve decided to put you in charge of all our family’s charity work.”

  Lawrence was instantly diverted. “You have? But you’ve always hated giving up any sort of control.”

  “And it’s been quite wrong of me. Every man needs a purpose to his life, a fact which was pointed out to me only a short while ago by Colonel Dutton.”

  “Phillip, I don’t know what to say. When I think of all the times I’ve written, asking you to give me an occupation so that I might prove myself…” He paused, shaking his head in disbelief. “I never thought you would agree to do so. Not after all the messes I’ve made in the past—”

  “That’s all forgotten,” he cut him off, not wanting to rehash any of the scrapes Lawrence had been in over the years. “Consider coming home a fresh start, and taking on the family’s charitable efforts is a good way to begin. Come to Hawthorne Shipping and see my secretary, Mr. Fortescue. I’ll have him prepare a dossier of all the charity events we’re sponsoring this season. The first is the May Day Ball, of course, to raise funds for London orphanages.”

  “I’ll see Fortescue tomorrow.”

  “Excellent. Now, since it is after six o’clock, we’d best change for dinner.”

  “Right.” Lawrence started to head for the door, then stopped. “I say, Phillip?”

  “Yes?”

  “Speaking of tomorrow, you will talk to Gainsborough first thing, won’t you?”

  “Talk to Gainsborough?” he repeated, pretending not to understand as he walked to the fireplace and began stirring the hot coals with a poker. “What about?”

  “About Maria, of course! He still runs things at Millbury, doesn’t he?”

  “He does. But I tend to give him a free hand with matters involving the tenants.” Though there were exceptions, for he had taken quite a hand in evicting one particular tenant. With that thought, a hint of guilt stabbed at him, but he did his best to ignore it.

  “Still,” Lawrence said, intruding into his thoughts, “in this case, you must intervene. Somehow, Gainsborough’s got it into his head that Maria isn’t of a good character, so you’ll have to set him right about that and see she stays.”

  Phillip sighed, knowing there was nothing for it but the truth. He set the poker back in its place and turned around. “I can hardly allow her to stay, since I am the one who arranged for her to go.”

  “What?” Lawrence stared at him across the room. “You knew about this? You had her evicted?”

  “I did.” He folded his arms, leaned his back against the mantel, and met his brother’s gaze.
“She didn’t tell you my part in the matter, obviously.”

  “She wouldn’t! Maria’s no tattletale, and you know it.” Lawrence frowned in bewilderment. “But why, in heaven’s name, would you have her evicted? And on the basis of her character? Why would you do such a thing to her?”

  “After what almost happened between you, how can you ask me that?”

  “You mean when we were plotting to run off to Gretna Green and you stopped us?” He gave an incredulous laugh. “That’s what this is all about? Why, that was ages ago! We were young and stupid, I daresay, and in hindsight, I realize it was quite right of you to intervene, but what does it matter now?”

  Phillip thought of Lawrence holding Maria’s hand, and he knew it mattered. He loved his brother, but he was also well aware of his brother’s weaknesses. Pretty damsels, particularly those in distress, could play him like a fine violin. And Maria could be a very convincing damsel in distress. He couldn’t fault her strategy, however, for it seemed to be working.

  “She’s all alone in the world,” Lawrence reminded him and frowned. “How can you be so heartless?”

  The accusation stung, and he stiffened. “I am not being heartless.”

  “Oh, yes, you are. You should have seen her face when she was telling me about that bakery. So happy, she was lit up like a candle. And you intend to deliberately evict her. It’s cruel, Phillip, and I can’t let you do it. I let her down once, you know. I can’t do it again. And I won’t let you do it either. This bakery means everything to her.”

  “I’m not preventing her from having her damned bakery!” he shot back, feeling defensive all of a sudden. “I just don’t want her to have it on the street where we live.”

  “And all because of that silly elopement business.” Lawrence went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “I never knew,” he murmured, shaking his head in disbelief. “I never knew this side of you existed.”

  Phillip made a sound of impatience. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “I never knew you could be vengeful.”

  “This isn’t about vengeance! It’s about…”

  It’s about you being a fool for any pretty little thing in a petticoat.

  The words hovered on the tip of his tongue, but he bit them back. He would not be provoked into saying hurtful things to the person he loved more than any other. He set his jaw and turned around, pretending to straighten his necktie in the mirror above the fireplace. “This isn’t about vengeance.”

  “Then what is it about? Is it that you don’t trust me?”

  When he didn’t answer, Lawrence crossed the room to stand beside him. “That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t trust me. What, you don’t believe I’ll behave like a gentleman?”

  “No,” he countered. “I’m not sure she’ll behave like a lady.”

  “There are times when I do not understand you, Phillip. This is Maria we’re talking about. She isn’t just some jumped-up schemer with her eye on the main chance.”

  That stopped him. His hands stilled, and he met his brother’s gaze in the mirror. “Isn’t she?”

  “No, damn it! And you know it as well as I do. We’ve known her nearly all our lives. We played together as children. We spent hours in her father’s kitchen, remember? You taught her to play chess. I taught her to dance. We helped her learn French. Don’t you remember?” Lawrence jabbed a finger at the mirror. “You showed her how to swing a cricket bat. I cannot believe you’ve forgotten these things.”

  His mind flashed back to a little girl with blonde braids who couldn’t hit a cricket ball to save herself, standing on the village green scowling fiercely at the other children and pretending she didn’t give a damn they were laughing at her. He remembered the first time she’d managed to hit the ball and the big, happy smile she’d given him for showing her how to do it. “That was a long time ago,” he said and resumed fiddling with his tie. “Things were different when we were children.”

  Lawrence ignored that. “Remember the plays we’d put on for her father and the other servants? Jolly good fun, that was. I’ll never forget when we did Pirates of Penzance. She put a manacle over her eye and a fusilier’s helmet on her head and sang “Modern Major General.” You were accompanying her on the piano, and you laughed so hard, you had to stop playing.”

  “Yes, yes, I remember, but—”

  “And what about when you were twelve and got the influenza? Father was in residence at the time, and he said you didn’t need any mollycoddling. So who kept running up from the kitchens to the nursery with hot soup, toast, and tea for you?”

  Phillip made a sound of impatience. “Oh, for the love of God—”

  “She was just a little bit of a thing, but she carried those heavy trays up four flights of stairs three times a day just for you, sneaking them out of the kitchens right under her father’s nose. She could have landed in serious trouble, but she did it anyway. She did it for you. And how do you repay her? By maligning her character and tossing her into the street. Quite unworthy of you, Phillip, and a most ungentlemanly thing to do—”

  “All right!” he shouted, provoked beyond bearing by that accusation. “All right! She can stay.”

  Lawrence clapped him on the back. “Now you’re talking sense. I’ll go tell her.”

  “No,” he said hastily, “I should be the one to tell her. I’ll do so after I’ve changed my suit. You should change as well. Unless you intend to wear those flannel dittos to the Savoy?”

  His brother glanced down at his buff-colored jacket and matching trousers. “Perhaps I should,” he said, looking up with a grin. “They’d refuse to let me in. What a sensation that would make.”

  “It would also make quite an impression on Cynthia, I’m sure, though not the one a man would hope for.” Phillip nodded to the door. “We’d best hurry, or we’ll be late.”

  “A grievous sin, indeed!” When he failed to respond, Lawrence gave a sigh of mock sorrow. “You really are impossible to tease, you know. But I don’t mind since you’ve promised to do right by Maria.”

  He wondered again how that girl could play Lawrence for such a fool. But then his brother gave him a wink, put his hands in his pockets and walked away, throwing over his shoulder, “Guilt works on you every time,” and Phillip realized he was the one who’d just been played for a fool.

  Maria let herself into her shop by the tradesmen’s entrance. She tossed the key onto the long wooden counter closest to the door, and as she pulled off her gloves and hat, she noticed the bread dough she’d left lying on the worktable. She’d best clean up the mess first, she supposed, then she’d have to start packing.

  She’d hoped Lawrence would be able to convince his brother to let her stay, but after seeing Phillip’s expression in the drawing room, she could hardly dare hope her plan would succeed. Phillip wasn’t like Lawrence—he wasn’t kind and good-natured and easy to persuade with a bit of feminine helplessness.

  Ah, well, she’d played and lost. Maria took a deep breath, laid her gloves on the counter beside the key, hung her bonnet on the hook in the wall beside the door, and crossed the kitchen. She peeled the unusable lump of dough from the floured surface of her worktable and took it to the scullery, along with her stained apron. She tossed the garment and the dough into the dustbin, then donned a fresh apron and returned to her worktable with a whisk broom and dustpan. She started to sweep up the excess flour, but then she stopped. She let go of the tools and slumped back against the counter behind her.

  It was so unfair, she thought in frustration, tilting her head back to stare at the gleaming copper pots on the rack above her head. So damned unfair.

  That thought had barely crossed her mind before she was forcing it out. There was no point in bemoaning the unfairness of life. It was best to just get on with things. She’d start again, find another kitchen.

  Maria straightened away from the counter, but before she could resume her task, a movement through the window beside the door caught her attention. She stiff
ened as a man’s legs came into view, long legs clad in perfectly creased black trousers.

  Maria scowled as the door opened and Phillip appeared in the doorway. “What do you want now? Did you come to help me pack?”

  His lips twitched, though he did not smile. “I’m afraid not.”

  She gestured to his impeccable black evening clothes. “Of course not. You might wrinkle your suit.”

  “That isn’t the reason, though I would happily wrinkle all of my suits to speed your departure.”

  “What a charming sentiment.” She sniffed. “So, if you haven’t come to help me pack, then why are you here? To gloat, I suppose?”

  “Hardly. That would be a most ungentleman-like thing to do.”

  “Oh, but casting aspersions on a woman’s character to have her evicted is perfectly proper behavior for a gentleman.”

  “No.” He expelled a harsh sigh and looked away. “No, it is not.”

  Maria blinked at this admission, but before she could recover her surprise enough to reply, he looked at her again and went on, “A fact which was pointed out to me with great glee by my brother only moments ago.” He paused, then added, “Much to my chagrin.”

  There were few things in life more satisfying, she decided, than seeing Phillip discomfited, but she couldn’t allow herself to enjoy it, for she sensed there was more to come. “So you are here because…” She paused and lifted her brows, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when he didn’t speak again, she couldn’t resist doing so. “Let me guess. You’ve come to offer me an apology?”

  “Certainly not.” He lifted his chin a notch. “I have come to negotiate a truce.”

  “A truce?” she repeated, and her hopes began to rise again. Perhaps she wouldn’t need to go in search of packing crates after all. “What sort of truce?”

  He entered the kitchen, shut the door, and crossed the room, pausing on the other side of her worktable. “Did you know that Lawrence was living here when you leased these premises?” he demanded, studying her face. “Tell me the truth, if you can manage it.”