“Touché.” Francis smiled. “I suppose you are right. We were neither of us particularly considerate of a lady’s feelings in our younger days.”
“I have made a dreadful mess of this,” said the marquess. “She refuses to see me, so I cannot set it right.”
“Isobel tells me that you have spent a great deal of time with Lady Morgan, and have made friends with her children, and visited her home,” he said. “Do you think that was wise?”
“Nothing I have done in regard to Lady Morgan was wise,” said Eynsford bitterly. “I could not resist her, and I allowed myself to deceive her in ways that I never planned. Why did you not stop me? You guessed my secret.”
“You would not have thanked me at the time,” said Exencour. “I imagine you would have told me to keep my advice to myself.”
The marquess laughed. “Or something stronger, perhaps. You are right; I would not have listened to anyone. Nor can I completely regret it; after all, I would not have met her otherwise, or at least not for some months, and then I would only have been able to approach her in a ballroom, or at the opera. I might never have learned how sweet, kind, and brave she is.”
Francis shook his head. “I will not share with you the details of my courtship of Isobel, but please believe that I made my fair share of missteps. Perhaps your suit will one day find favor with Lady Morgan. I urge you to be persistent, Phillip.”
“How can I be persistent when she won’t even talk to me?” Eynsford’s hand tightened on his glass.
“That, my friend, you will have to work out for yourself,” said Francis.
“Does she go to Scotland with you?” asked the marquess.
Exencour shook his head. “That will do you no good. She refuses Isobel’s invitations, I am sure partly because she fears you might also be a guest.”
Eynsford sighed. “I suppose I must be patient.”
“You might have done better if you had been in the first place,” Francis pointed out.
The marquess shook his head, and drained his glass. “I suppose I should take my leave. I did not want you to depart for the summer without apologizing for my behavior to your friend. When do you and Lady Exencour leave London?”
“In two days’ time,” replied Francis. “You could join us there, Phillip. Isobel would be glad to see you, though you will probably have to bear a scolding first.”
“Perhaps. If I cannot make Lady Morgan believe I am sincere, it may be best for me to remove myself from her vicinity.”
“You are always welcome.” Francis walked the marquess to the hall, where the men paused and shook hands.
The butler was not present, and Eynsford shrugged. “I’ll show myself out,” he said to Exencour, who nodded pleasantly and returned to the library.
Phillip strode from the library to the grand entrance to Strancaster House, but paused when he heard a soft tread on the stairs leading towards the upper floors, followed by a gasp. He looked up and saw Letitia, her hand clutching the railing, poised as though to turn and flee back up the stairs.
Eynsford’s hand flew with its own volition from his side and reached out to her. “Lady Morgan,” he said. “Please, stop.”
She hesitated, and he moved swiftly across the hall and stood looking up at her. Letitia drew in her breath at the picture he presented. She had only seen him twice before dressed as the marquess; her Mr. Markham had been a handsome man, but Eynsford’s attractiveness was magnetic.
“What are you doing here?” she asked softly.
“I came to apologize to my friend Francis for abusing his friendship,” said his lordship. “It was wrong of me to deceive Lord and Lady Exencour. Not as wrong as what I did to you, but I still regret it.”
Letty bit her lip and looked away. When she gazed into his eyes, she found it very hard to remain angry with him.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“Isobel invited me to tea. She is upstairs, haranguing her staff,” she said with a hint of humor. “I told her I could make my own way out.”
“Letitia, please let me talk to you,” Phillip begged. He approached her and very gently took her hand in his.
“We can’t talk here,” she protested, but did not withdraw her hand.
Phillip slowly led her the rest of the way down the stairs, and glanced around the hall. He spotted a door under the stairs, and gestured at it. “I suppose this must lead to the service areas and the dining room,” he said, urging her across the polished marble of the floor. “It should be unused in the afternoon, please, give me only a moment,” he continued, opening the door.
With a doubtful glance at his face, Letitia entered the hallway that was revealed. What could possibly happen in Strancaster House, she wondered. And, despite herself, she desperately wanted to be in Eynsford’s company.
Eynsford closed the door behind them, and turned to her, so pleased to simply be in her presence that he was not at all sure of what to say.
“Lady Morgan, allow me to again express my remorse for the pain I have caused you,” he said.
Letitia looked away. “I blame myself for allowing you-—allowing myself to befriend an unknown man,” she said distantly. “Please, do not concern yourself any longer with me.”
Impatiently, Eynsford closed the distance between them. “Letty,” he murmured. “Letty.” He reached out and grasped her shoulders, uncertain about why he had brought her here, and what he wanted to say. As he became conscious of the delicate strength of her collarbone and shoulders beneath his fingers, he softly slipped his hands over them, gently massaging her tense muscles. Letty relaxed visibly, and unable to resist, Phillip lowered his head to hers as she looked up at him. He breathed in the subtle scent of lavender and lilacs that always seemed to cling to her, and opened his mouth to speak, but found instead that his lips were touching hers.
The door to the library opened, and Isobel entered. Francis looked up at her, appreciating the grace with which she moved. She laughed when she saw the look in his eyes.
“Later, my dear,” she said. “Right now I need you to check on a trunk in our rooms. I believe it is yours, but I have no idea why it is there.”
“Surely if you are taking seven trunks, I may take one,” said Francis plaintively, but he followed his wife out of the library with a smile. As they walked towards the stairs to the upper floors, Isobel looked up.
“Do you hear voices?” she asked. “It sounds like they are coming from behind the service door.”
Francis listened for a moment, and then reached out and touched Isobel’s arm, stopping her from approaching the door. “Was Lady Morgan here this afternoon?” he asked.
“She was indeed. She left some ten minutes ago.”
Francis’ raised his eyebrows. “Eynsford was here as well,” he said.
“I did not see him! Oh, Francis, what if they ran into each other?”
“I very much think they may have,” said her husband, giving the door a significant look.
Isobel looked alarmed and began to pull away from him. “Oh no, Letty must be so angry,” she said.
Francis tightened his grip on her arm. “Isobel, I fancy that there was a time when you and I would have been very unhappy should we have been interrupted,” he said softly.
“What? Oh!” Understanding dawned in Isobel’s eyes. “But Francis, I cannot allow Letitia—”
“Nonsense, my dear. Letitia is an adult, and has seen far more difficulty in her life than you have. You cannot always order her life for her. Leave them be.”
“But—” Isobel subsided at the look on Francis’ face. “I suppose you are right,” she said. “And only fancy how embarrassing it would be if they—well, if they are—”
“Exactly,” said Francis. “And so my dear, perhaps you would like to return to the library?”
Isobel, with one last curious glance at the closed door, followed her husband out of the hall.
As Letty felt the firm touch of Phillip’s mouth, her anger and disappointment
vanished, burnt away by the heat of her very real love and the desire for him she had suppressed so long. After experiencing the emptiness his absence had left in her days, she hadn’t the heart to resist, and when he gently yet persuasively sought to part her lips, she opened to him, reveling in his taste and feel. She melted at the caress of his hands on her shoulders and back, and stepped closer to the warmth and strength of Phillip’s muscular chest, enjoying the secure feeling of his arms around her.
Phillip kissed her deeply, tasting her sweetness for the first time. Letitia clung to him, his kiss feeling like a homecoming to her. As he slanted his mouth across hers, to find that perfect silky meeting of their tongues, he slid his hands down her back, to the round curves of her bottom. He gripped them and squeezed gently, then pressed her up against his hard torso. Letty moaned and sagged in his grasp, the emotions he generated nearly overwhelming her. Phillip had just allowed one hand to move up her side, to rest just under the gentle swell of Letitia’s breast, when the sound of a not too distant door closing cut through her haze of desire. The noise broke the spell that held her, and she found the strength to put her hands against his chest and push him away.
“This is why we can’t meet, and you must not visit my house,” she whispered, her voice tense with anger and shame. “I allow you a few moments in private, and you, you, do this, when I thought you wanted to talk, or explain to me the inexplicable. You have just confirmed that I cannot trust you and must, perforce, avoid your company.”
“How can you imply that I wish you dishonor?” he demanded. “Except for concealing my identity, have I ever failed to treat you with respect?”
“No, you have not, but you also will not listen to me. You must leave me be, while I learn to make my own way. I do not wish to be dependent on still another man who does not deserve my trust.” Letty looked at Phillip, tears welling up in her eyes.
“I have tried to tell you that I am too recently widowed, and that Alfred’s behavior and your deception make it impossible for me to know my true feelings toward you, but you do not listen to me!” she cried. “These past moments are the some of the first we have spent together since I became aware of your true name, and—and—-you attempted to take advantage of me! I know no more about you than I did an hour ago, but I have learned I cannot trust myself near you. If you cannot wait for me, well, I am better off without you.” Letty turned on her heel, her hand shaking as she opened the door that led back to the hall, and fled. Eynsford watched her go, cursing under his breath.
Pierce, who had returned to his post, handed Letitia her spencer and hat, and when she was ready, bowed as he opened the door for her with an impassive face. “Good afternoon, Lady Morgan,” he said calmly. She lifted her chin and exited, her cheeks slightly flushed.
A few minutes later, Eynsford also appeared. Pierce turned to the marquess, “Your hat, my lord,” he said, handing him his tall, curled brim beaver.
“Thank you, Pierce,” said Eynsford, feeling a bit uncomfortable, although he no particular reason to think Pierce or any of the staff had seen him with Letty. He hesitated.
“Was there something else, my lord?” inquired the butler.
“No, not at all,” responded Eynsford, who also left the house, his thoughts in turmoil.
Chapter 31
The days after Isobel's departure from London were quite trying for Lady Morgan. The weather was hot, exacerbating her loneliness and discomfort, and making any effort seem doubly difficult. Even the children were reluctant to leave the house for their daily walk, and Letitia found their listlessness worrisome.
She reflected that Isobel might well have been right; a change of scenery would do her good, as well as depriving her of Dr. Wolfe's constant presence, and the children would surely benefit by a change of air. She could not, however, consider going to Scotland; she knew that Isobel and Francis would receive her and the children with great pleasure, but she wished to not be running to her friends with every problem.
Letty seated herself with her account books at her elegant little desk and went to work. A careful search through them revealed that a little judicious pruning of her expenses would allow her to scrape together enough money to take the children to the seaside for some weeks. In particular, the money she had set aside to buy herself a few dresses for attending parties the following fall could be sacrificed; the thought of attending functions at which she might encounter Lord Eynsford seemed totally ludicrous.
The money was not enough, of course, to go to a fashionable resort such as Brighton, but this was no deterrent to Letitia; she considered the presence of fashionable society a detriment rather than an asset. Ramsgate, she reflected, would be the very thing. The people who went there were solidly middle-class and decidedly unfashionable; exactly the type of people who would pay little attention to a widow with small children who wished to enjoy the sea air.
In a short time Letitia had made all her arrangements. Isobel's solicitor, Mr. Askworth, had been only too happy to aid her in finding rooms to rent for two months, and he had assured her that they were comfortable, airy, and inexpensive. Dr. Wolfe, who had provided his opinion although it had not been asked for, had been surprisingly agreeable about her decision, and Letty had refrained from arguing with him when he told her that he was sure that some time at the seashore would give her the opportunity to make the decision he was certain would make them both very happy. He also approved heartily of her choice of Ramsgate, telling her it was quite genteel. Thus, with the blessings of all concerned, Letitia prepared to exit London, determined to forget the events of the past spring and to drive the Marquess of Eynsford from her mind.
Two days before she was to leave, she was in her parlor, reviewing a list of items to be taken and those to be left in Kensington. She felt a small glow of pleasure that things had proceeded so smoothly, and she also acknowledged that the activity had allowed her to push the so attractive Marquess of Eynsford out of the forefront of her mind. She missed him dreadfully, she acknowledged, but her inability to resist his advances at the Exencour’s home had convinced her that it was best to stay away from his lordship altogether.
She looked up as the maid entered the room and bobbed a curtsey. “Begging you pardon, my lady,” she said. “I know you told me to refuse you to the Marquess of Eynsford should he call—”
Letty’s gaze turned anxious. “He’s not here, is he?” she blurted out.
“No, my lady,” was the response. “But the Marchioness of Eynsford is.”
Letitia’s eyes widened in shock. “The Marchioness of Eynsford?” she repeated numbly. Isobel had said nothing about the marquess marrying. Had he managed to find himself a bride in the past week? And if he had, what could she possibly want with Letitia?
“I would be most grateful if you would agree to have a few words with me,” said a pleasant voice from the hallway. A handsome older woman, with piercing blue eyes and very good posture appeared in the doorway, a charming smile on her face. She was clad in a remarkably elegant walking dress of plum silk twill. It sported a spread collar made up high to the neck, and a bodice trimmed with banding à la militaire, while the hem was deeply appliqued with patterns of palm fronds made of the same fabric.
Letitia gave a gasp of relief. As attractive as the woman was, she was clearly too old to be the marquess’ wife.
The dowager moved into the room as though she owned it. “If you don’t mind, Lady Morgan, I would like to have a few words with you. Alone,” she added, glancing at the maid, who reluctantly bobbed a curtsey and left.
Letitia stood up and approached the dowager, a tense smile on her face. “How kind of you to visit me, Lady Eynsford,” she said.
“But you are wondering why I am here,” concluded the dowager.
Letitia hesitated. “I don’t believe we have met before, have we?” she asked.
“No, we have not. But after hearing so much about you from my son, I thought I would like to get to know you.” The dowager smiled warmly at
her.
Letitia tried not to let her surprise show. “Please sit down,” she said, remembering her manners. “Would you care for some tea?”
“No, thank you.” The dowager seated herself gracefully on the settee.
Letitia did her best not to think of the times she has sat with her visitor’s son on that very piece of furniture. “Is there something I can do to assist you?” she asked, sitting down across from the marchioness.
“Well, if you wanted to make me very happy, you could marry my son,” was the reply.
Letitia gave a quick shake of her head. “I am sorry to disappoint you, Lady Eynsford, but that is impossible. I do not know what Lord Eynsford has told you, but your son and I are not compatible.”
“He disagrees with you most strenuously, as I am sure you know,” replied the dowager. “And it does sound to me as though he has made a dreadful hash of this. Still, I was wondering if you could find it in yourself to forgive him.”
Letitia took a deep breath. “Lady Eynsford, I have no wish to offend you, but there can be nothing between the marquess and me. I have made that quite clear to him.”
“I understand you have,” said the marchioness. “Otherwise, I would not have had to come here. Phillip behaved abominably, and I daresay he deserves that you should never speak to him again. But as you are the first woman he has ever mentioned truly caring for to me, and I had all but given up hope that he would find someone he wished, rather than felt obliged, to marry, I could not let this go without at least meeting you.” The dowager smiled gently. “You are very lovely, as Phillip said.”
“Thank you,” said Letty, a bit stiffly. “While I was honored by Lord Eynsford’s proposal, I fear I cannot accept it. Because of his deception, which I presume he has described to you, I cannot have the regard for him that I would wish to have for my husband.”
“Yes, that was terribly stupid of him, was it not?” said the dowager. She laughed slightly at Letty’s surprised countenance. “I am very fond of my son, but I have no illusions that he is always well-behaved around women. You have doubtless heard the stories, so I need not repeat them. He is unused to being refused, and when he could not meet you in the proper way, he chose a vastly improper path. But that does not mean that his feelings are not now sincere. He is suffering a great deal at the thought that he has hurt you—-and, of course, at the thought that he might be denied something he wants very badly.”
An Honest Deception Page 17
