“Naturally gossip must not be listened to,” sputtered the bishop. “But an inappropriate friendship can present a very odd appearance indeed.”
“A friendship is only inappropriate if one needs to be ashamed of it,” said the marquess. “Are you ashamed of me, Lady Morgan?” he asked, turning to Letitia.
He saw a smile leap into her eyes. “Not at all, Mr. Markham,” she replied.
“There you have it,” said Lord Eynsford, directing a cold look at the bishop. “I believe Lady Morgan will accept your apology now.”
“I am of course very sorry if I have offended Lady Morgan,” said the bishop, with a bow to her. “I did not mean to imply that she was lacking in judgment. I simply have a concern for her happiness and a regard for her person.”
“Then we share the same sentiments,” said the marquess. “A happy occurrence.”
James came running up, having perceived the presence of his great friend. “Mr. Markham!” he said. “Do come play with us.”
A smile broke through the stern look on Phillip’s face. “I would be happy to, James,” he said. With a small bow to Letitia and a nod to the bishop, he took the boy's hand in his and walked away.
“Upon my word,” exclaimed Dr. Wolfe. “What a very strange sort of solicitor he is.”
“I beg your pardon?” said Letitia.
“Your friend does not behave as any other solicitor I have encountered,” continued the bishop.
“I am aware that he is much younger than most solicitors I know,” ventured Letitia, “but there must be many others his age.”
“My dear Lady Morgan,” said Dr. Wolfe, his self-importance now thoroughly re-inflated, “no solicitor of my acquaintance would speak to me in such a way. His lack of concern for your standing is quite reprehensible.”
Letitia frowned. “I believe we have already discussed this notion of yours that there is something not entirely respectable about my association with Mr. Markham,” she said. “We are mere acquaintances, and I appreciate his advice and support. There is really nothing to worry about.”
The bishop opened his mouth to respond and paused. It was apparent that Lady Morgan was unaware of exactly how unusual her friend's behavior had been, and she quite obviously took exception to his objecting to her acquaintance with him.
Dr. Wolfe’s understanding was not great nor was his sensitivity to the feelings of others strong, but he had a powerful sense of his own value, and Mr. Markham's behavior had offended him deeply. His friendship with the woman Dr. Wolfe had decided he would wed was likewise annoying. Still, there would be plenty of time after he had married Lady Morgan to wean her away from her unsuitable friends.
It did not occur to the bishop that his marriage to Lady Morgan might not take place; it had been arranged between him and her cousin, and therefore was certain to occur. Bainstall had assured him that she was kind and biddable, and to the bishop’s delight she was very beautiful.
If she showed signs of possessing a mind of her own, that was due to her single state, and simply a clear sign that she was in need of a husband. She would soon rely on him for her every opinion. To argue with his future wife about a mere solicitor was not only unseemly but also uncomfortable. In the meantime, it would do no harm to find out more about Mr. Markham.
“Very well, dear Lady Morgan,” said the bishop. “We will speak of it no more. I am sure that soon you will no longer have need of Mr. Markham's advice. You know you may rely on me, do you not?”
“What?” asked Letitia, who had been watching James and Mr. Markham. “Oh, yes, certainly. I greatly appreciate your concern for me.”
The bishop beamed at her. “I understand that you need guidance,” he said. “Be assured that I will be glad to assist you.”
“I thank you, sir,” said Letitia, reflecting on what a very silly man he was. The likelihood of her turning to him for advice was almost nonexistent.
Eynsford, although giving some of his attention to James, was also pondering the situation. He watched surreptitiously as the bishop chatted merrily to Lady Morgan. What a fool, he thought savagely. That Lady Morgan should have to support the attentions of that fat, blithering idiot was offensive to him. It was abundantly clear that Letitia was being courted, and he was equally aware that she was not interested.
Phillip wished very much that he could let the bishop know exactly who he was, but circumstances made this difficult. He knew he had already come perilously close to revealing himself; he had acted as no solicitor would, and, although Lady Morgan had apparently not remarked on it, he was certain that Dr. Wolfe had found his behavior odd. Let him, Eynsford thought angrily.
“I must be going, James,” he said rather abruptly. “I will see you another day.” Crossing over to where Letitia sat he said his farewells to her and to Dr. Wolfe rather stiffly. He thought he detected a worried look on Lady Morgan's face, and attempted to reassure her by giving her hand a gentle squeeze as he bent over it.
Eynsford stalked back to where he had left Chisholm and his curricle, his thoughts in considerable turmoil. The idea that the bishop would return to Letitia’s house with her made him livid. The mental picture of the bishop sitting next to Letitia in her drawing room horrified him. The mere thought that Lady Morgan might be courted by anyone else made him furious. And yet, he reflected, why should that be? He was not courting her himself.
Chisholm watched him approach with a sinking heart. It was evident to him that his master was in a towering rage, and that impression was confirmed when this lordship mounted the curricle without a word and directed the horses out of the gardens at a rapid pace. The groom folded his arms over his chest and sat back; it was going to be a fast drive back to Mayfair.
Letitia had a great deal to think about when she returned to her house. She had no intention of marrying Dr. Wolfe, so she felt that his attentions, while annoying, were harmless. What had, however, unsettled her, was Mr. Markham. The contrast between the solicitor and the bishop could not be greater, and it dawned upon her how much she valued Mr. Markham’s candid and amusing conversation and his calm good sense.
She had thought him merely a man she could trust to be honest with her and to give her disinterested advice, but the bishop's insinuations now made her revisit this. The only other men she trusted as she did him were her long dead father and Lord Exencour, but Mr. Markham made her feel a way neither her father nor Lord Exencour had ever made her feel; happy and carefree, and certainly not like a widow with two children. She pressed a hand to her lips. He made her feel, she realized, rather as she had when she was first engaged to Alfred.
“Oh no,” she murmured. Then she shook her head. This was nonsense. Mr. Markham was a diversion, and it was foolish of her to imagine that she had any such feelings towards him. She was simply grateful for his companionship and his affection for her children. She must be lonely indeed if she fancied herself feeling strong emotions for a man just because he was kind to her.
“I will go to dinner with Isobel soon,” she said out loud. “I have shut myself away too much and now I am having foolish ideas as a result.” She nodded. Staying busy would doubtless put these sentimental thoughts out of her head.
Chapter 19
The evening after Isobel met the bishop at Letty’s home, Lord and Lady Exencour were to attend the opera. As their carriage rattled through the streets of London, Lady Exencour turned to her husband.
“I visited Letty this afternoon,” she said.
“And how is Lady Morgan faring?” asked Lord Exencour.
“Quite well. I think Kensington suits her perfectly, though I must say I should be terribly bored. The children are thriving and Letitia looks remarkably beautiful. She has lost that pinched look she had after Alfred died.”
“He has been dead for months now, and it is not as though she ever had much to mourn. By now the shock and distress must be mitigated, and with the worst of her financial problems behind her she likely looks forward to a brighter future,” observed
Lord Exencour.
“I think so indeed. And only imagine, Francis! She has a suitor!” exclaimed Lady Exencour.
“A suitor? Did you finally manage to introduce her to Phillip?” teased her husband.
Isobel laughed. “No, I did not, more’s the pity. Eynsford would be vastly preferable to this fellow. He is a bishop, no less, and very pleased with himself. He is a school fellow of Bainstall’s, and, while he is not as cold as my lord, he is every bit as foolish and self-important.”
“He sounds dreadful,” agreed Lord Exencour. “You do not mean to tell me that Letitia is encouraging him?”
“Not at all,” said Isobel. “But he is a very difficult man to discourage, apparently. He seems to think that Letitia must feel very lucky to be courted by a gentleman of his circumstances and station and harbors no doubts that she will marry him.”
“Then I imagine he will find the outcome something of a disappointment,” said Lord Exencour. “I suppose that Letitia will send him on his way soon enough.”
“Yes, I am sure she will, and yet it is very vexing for her,” said Isobel. “She cannot refuse to marry him before he asks, and until then she must tolerate his presence, for he absolutely refuses to believe she is not entertaining his suit. This will only serve to confirm her suspicions of noble gentlemen: first Alfred is a cad, then her cousin is oppressive and now this bishop is insensitive. It is altogether too bad.”
“You should see if you can entice her to go out in company a little more,” observed Lord Exencour. “That would surely be unexceptionable now that Alfred has been dead six months. Perhaps she could attend a concert with us or some such thing. That would keep her mind off her bishop, certainly, and mayhap she will even meet someone she prefers.”
Isobel looked thoughtful. “I had the same thought, and I pressed her to come to dinner sometime soon. It would be a very good thing if she were to go out a bit. She has apparently met a solicitor and has become quite friendly with him. She thinks highly of him and asks his advice on many topics, and while I am sure he is most respectable, it would not do for people to suspect he is paying too much attention to her. If she had more of a social life and a few other callers she might not feel the need to rely on him so.”
“A solicitor?” asked Lord Exencour. “You have not mentioned this before, I believe?”
“No,” agreed Isobel, “and that worries me as well. It seems she has known him some time and has not told me of him. Letitia was not wont to keep such secrets from me.”
“What, do you suspect Letty of engaging in an illicit affaire?” asked Lord Exencour in surprise. “That hardly seems to be in her usual style.”
“Oh no, not at all,” said Isobel. “I am simply curious as to what he is like; Letitia does not give her trust easily. I must get her to introduce him to me. I am very curious to see what sort of man Letitia feels she can place her trust in.”
“What is his name?” asked Lord Exencour. “Perhaps our man of business knows of him.”
Isobel thought for a moment. “Mr. Phillip Markham, I believe she said.”
“I will find out if anyone knows of him,” said Lord Exencour. “But you should not worry,” he said. “It hardly sounds as though their friendship has reached any extraordinary level of intimacy.”
“You are right, my dear,” said Isobel. “I am doubtless worrying over nothing. Still, it will do no harm if we encourage Letitia to go about. I will be so happy to have her company again.”
By this time the opera had been reached, and in the bustle of alighting from the coach, entering the building, greeting their friends, and making their way to their box, all thoughts of Letitia were banished. The opera itself was not a success, but the audience was highly fashionable, and much amusement could be gained from studying the ladies’ toilettes and surveying the other boxes for acquaintances. In the interval Lord Eynsford came to the Exencour’s box to converse.
“Phillip!” exclaimed Lord Francis. “What a pleasure. It has been some time since I have seen you at White’s or driving in the park.”
“Yes, I have been somewhat absent lately,” agreed the marquess. “I have had matters to attend to that have required considerable time spent with my man of business.”
“I have missed you,” said Lord Exencour. “It sometimes seems as though sensible conversation is the hardest thing to come by in London. Only yesterday I was buttonholed by young Charles Worthington, who nearly caused me to expire of ennui. He was wearing the most extraordinary suit--it was made very inexpensively and resembled something a superior clerk might wear. He claimed you had been seen sporting just such a suit and it was now all the crack.”
A look of amusement appeared in Lord Eynsford’s eyes. “How remarkable,” he said. “Worthington claimed I was dressing like a man of business? I did have a new coat made, but I imagine Weston would not be complimented to hear it so described.”
Lord Exencour laughed. “No, I think not. I could not imagine where he had gotten this information, but he was quite serious. I suppose we can expect all the young sprigs of fashion to go about dressed very badly for some time now.”
Eynsford took a pinch of snuff with an air, glancing down at his impeccably cut coat. “I certainly hope they do not tell everyone that they are emulating me,” he said plaintively. “I can conceive of nothing that might be more damaging to my reputation and that of my valet.”
“If the trend continues, perhaps I will have one made for myself,” said Lord Exencour with a laugh. “Surely you will refer me to your tailor?”
Lord Eynsford bowed. “With great good will,” he said. He was much amused at the thought of the young gentlemen of London copying his mode of dress, but he was also annoyed that he had been seen and recognized. The masquerade was becoming perilous; it only needed now for someone to see him in Kensington Gardens or in Lady Morgan's company for the mischief to be done. Still, he did not want his friendship with Lady Morgan to end. He would have to think of some way to reveal to her his identity without alarming her.
“Do you know a solicitor named Markham, by any chance?” asked Lord Exencour.
Lord Eynsford started visibly. He directed a sharp look at his friend, but Exencour’s face was empty of all but mild curiosity.
“I am sorry,” said the marquess. “My thoughts were still with clothing. What was the name again?”
“Markham,” said Lord Exencour.
“That does not sound familiar to me, but then, I am acquainted with very few solicitors,” said Lord Eynsford. “Is there some reason you think I might know him?”
“I was merely curious,” said Lord Exencour. “It seems Lady Morgan has made a friend of him, and Isobel is, naturally, protective of her. I hope to find someone who knows of him so that we can be sure of his respectability.”
“Markham,” repeated Lord Eynsford. “No, I am afraid I do not know him. My man of business deals with my legal affairs, and so I do not often come into contact with solicitors.”
“Nor do I,” said Lord Exencour. “I will have to check with mine, and, of course, Isobel’s. Mr. Askworth has practiced law in this city many years; I am sure he will have heard of this man.”
“Are you so concerned?” asked the marquess. “Surely Lady Morgan would not befriend someone who might harm her?”
“I imagine there is nothing in it at all,” said Lord Exencour. “However, I do feel an obligation to protect Lady Morgan, who I consider a great friend, from someone who might be attempting to use her to his advantage. I merely mean to satisfy myself and Isobel that all is well.”
“I will be seeing my solicitor tomorrow,” volunteered Lord Eynsford. “I could speak to him for you, and save you the trouble of searching out this fellow.”
“How generous of you, Phillip. But it is not necessary; I would be loathe to put you out.”
“I have already made an appointment with the man, and this will take no special effort,” persisted Lord Eynsford. “It will be a pleasure to render this small service
to Lady Exencour. You must remember that I have some little interest in Lady Morgan. I would also like to be easy in my mind.”
Lord Exencour gave him a shrewd look. He knew Lord Eynsford to be a thoughtful friend, but his interest in this topic seemed extreme. “I thank you, Phillip,” he said. There was a slight pause. “Markham,” said Lord Exencour again. “That is not unlike your own family name, Masham. And the fellow’s first name is also Phillip. How very odd.”
“Odd, indeed,” said Lord Eynsford, looking away from Francis' inquiring gaze. “But that will insure that I do not forget the name. Surely a man with such a pleasant name must be respectable and cannot pose a danger to Lady Morgan. How does she otherwise?”
“All seems to be well, barring the unwelcome attentions of a bishop,” said Lord Exencour. “It seems Lady Morgan is being courted.”
“Indeed?” said Lord Eynsford. “So soon after her husband’s death?”
“The gentleman in question has apparently arranged matters with Lady Morgan’s cousin, and seems to feel the issue is settled. The only fly in the ointment seems to be Lady Morgan herself, who sees fit to find fault with the bishop,” said Lord Exencour. “Bainstall does not credit her with a mind of her own, I am afraid.”
The marquess fought down the urge to make a rather strong comment on the meddling ways of Baron Bainstall. “How unfortunate,” he said. “I am sure Lady Morgan will extricate herself, however.”
“Certainly,” responded Lord Exencour. “Let us hope that legal assistance is not required in the matter,” he continued, giving Eynsford a quizzical look.
The marquess refused to rise to the bait, however, merely responding with a look of blank surprise. “Unless Lady Morgan has given the bishop reason to believe his suit has prospered I hardly think a breach of promise suit likely. How could she need legal assistance in dealing with her suitor?”
An Honest Deception Page 11
