The Wrong Mr. Wright

by Patricia Bray

  As he had promised, Lord Endicott called upon her the next morning, at the barely civilized hour of nine o’clock. Diana was still in the breakfast room, having arisen only shortly before.

  “Please join me,” she said, and Lord Endicott took the empty seat to her left. “Will you have tea? Chocolate? Coffee?”

  “Coffee would be pleasant,” Lord Endicott replied.

  She dispatched a footman for the coffee and used the opportunity to study the viscount. His shadowed eyes and drawn face told her that he, too, had passed a sleepless night. She wondered what conclusions he drew from her own pale face and the dark smudges under her eyes.

  The servant set a china cup of coffee in front of Lord Endicott. “Will you be joining Miss Somerville for breakfast, my lord? Cook would be pleased to make a plate for you.”

  “No, just the coffee is fine. Thank you, Daniels,” Lord Endicott said. He gave a nod, and the footman departed, closing the door behind him.

  “We can talk freely,” Diana said. “After last night’s excitement, my parents are unlikely to stir before noon.”

  Lord Endicott busied himself by pouring sugar in his coffee and then stirred it slowly with a spoon. “About last night,” he began. “I swear to you that I had no idea that George was going to make an appearance. I thought him still safely on the Continent.”

  “Why did he come back?” Diana asked.

  The viscount’s eyes remained focused on the coffee in front of him, though he had yet to take a single sip. “I no longer try to fathom the motives behind anything that George does,” Lord Endicott said bitterly. Then he raised his eyes to hers. “George claimed that he was unaware of our engagement. Said it was mere coincidence that he happened to arrive when he did.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  Lord Endicott shrugged. “It does not matter why he came, only that he is here now. And he intends to stay.”

  The news gave Diana a cold feeling in her stomach. Through the long night she had consoled herself with the thought that somehow Lord Endicott would take charge and make her troubles magically disappear. She was convinced that he would be able to banish his brother from London. At least until after the season was over, and she and her parents returned to Kent.

  But Lord Endicott was not invincible after all.

  “Is he likely to cause trouble?” she asked.

  “I have warned him of the seriousness of the situation and the dangers of crossing my will. Hopefully prudence will dictate his course. But I have taken the precaution of banning him from Grosvenor Square. And with his reputation, it is unlikely that he will be invited to the more select ton gatherings. With a little effort we can avoid encountering him.”

  It was an impossible tangle, and Diana took a sip of her chocolate as she thought through the implications of his statement. Would it really be that simple? Or was Lord Endicott fooling himself?

  “And what will society say when they learn we will not accept invitations where Mr. Wright may be present? Indeed, what do you think they are saying after last night?” she asked.

  “No doubt his sudden appearance will have caused a buzz, but our apparent cordiality should prevent anyone from trying to revive the old gossip,” Lord Endicott said.

  “So if we now begin to avoid him, people will begin to wonder why, and the whole ugly story will come out,” Diana said. She was angry. These past weeks had been a wasted effort. If she was destined to be embroiled in scandal, she might as well have stayed in Kent. There, at least, she knew who she was.

  “It seems to me we have little choice,” she continued. “If we avoid your brother, we run the risk of fueling the very gossip we hope to avoid. And yet the alternative, that of seeking out your brother’s company, is even more unbearable.”

  Last night had been torture enough. She had no wish to encounter George Wright again. Ever.

  Lord Endicott pushed his coffee away and then reached over to take her hand in his. “There is another alternative,” he said.

  She raised one eyebrow. “And?”

  “Marry me,” he said. “We can post the first banns this weekend and be married in three week’s time at St. George’s. Once you are Lady Endicott, you will have nothing to fear. Not from my brother, nor from society gossip.”

  She withdrew her hand from his. “Are you mad?” she asked, in an echo of their first conversation. “Rushing into a hasty marriage may be exactly what your brother wants. Why would you let him dictate the course of the rest of your life?”

  Perversely now her hand felt cold, and she wished he would retake it in his. But he did not.

  “I did not think of it in that light,” he said.

  “And as for the gossip, I am thick-skinned enough to bear the scorn of a few malicious harpies. Can you say the same?”

  “I was only thinking of protecting you,” he said.

  It was lowering to realize that he still thought of her in terms of duty and honor. As if she were a responsibility that had been entrusted to his care. Her own feelings toward him had changed, but apparently his had not.

  “I appreciate your concern. But there is no need for us to take such hasty action,” Diana replied.

  “I will abide by your wishes,” Lord Endicott said. “But should you change your mind—”

  “I will not,” Diana interrupted him. She would not marry for the sake of convenience, no matter how much she had come to value Lord Endicott’s friendship.

  It would be different if he had spoken of passion. If he urged this marriage not out of fear of scandal, but simply because he truly wished her to be his wife. Then, she might have been tempted. But she would not take advantage of his kindness and condemn them both to a loveless match.

  “We will hold to our bargain. In a few weeks the season will be over, and we can put this behind us,” she declared.

  She knew as she said the words that they were a lie. True, once the season was over, she would return to Kent. In the autumn she would announce the end of the engagement and set Lord Endicott free with a clear conscience. But she knew she would never forget him, and the life of adventure that she had planned for herself no longer held quite the same allure as it once had.

  Ten

  After Lord Endicott took his leave, Diana and her mother spent the afternoon entertaining guests from last night’s ball, who had come to pay their respects. George Wright’s name was mentioned once or twice, but no one seemed to attach any special significance to him or to suspect his former association with Diana.

  The days that followed proved strangely anticlimactic as Diana attended a few social engagements, two with Lord Endicott’s escort and a handful without. There was no sign of George Wright.

  Nor was there any sign that once again she was the target of malicious gossip. Instead, the only topic on everyone’s lips was the news from the Continent. Rather than being swiftly defeated by the allies, Napoleon eluded the traps set for him, and his forces continued to grow as entire regiments defected to follow their former commander. New reports that he had amassed a huge army led by his famous Old Guard had struck fear into everyone’s hearts. Few believed that Wellington and the allies could prevail against the French troops. Not when Wellington was handicapped by having to rely on raw troops, the best of his veterans having been dispatched earlier to America. Disaster seemed unavoidable, and those of the aristocracy who had flocked to the newly reopened Continent now streamed back into English ports, carrying their own predictions of gloom and doom.

  All knew a great battle was imminent, one that might well decide the fate of the Continent. They waited in anxious silence for news, only to be cast into despair as reports came in that Napoleon had triumphed. Just as all seemed hopeless, their spirits were lifted by news of the Glorious Eighteenth of June. Wellington had not just been victorious; with the help of Blucher and his Prussians, they had crushed the French armies, dealing the final blow to Napoleon’s ambitions.

  It was the talk of London; indeed, no one could talk of a
nything else. Plans were made for enormous victory celebrations. Rumors swirled around the city that the allied monarchs were to come to London—even Tsar Alexander had condescended to join the festivities—and hostesses hastily calculated their chances of meeting and impressing the visiting monarchs.

  In such an atmosphere it was little wonder that no one had the inclination to speculate upon the romances of a mere viscount and a country miss. Diana was grateful for the reprieve. But when her parents suggested that she might wish to stay in London through the summer, to take part in the extended season, Diana demurred. They would leave at the beginning of July as they had long planned. While it would be fascinating to meet such exotic foreign guests, she had no wish to remain in London for another month. Not when that meant she would have to prolong her public role as Lord Endicott’s fiancée, a role that grew more and more difficult to play with each day that passed.

  It was not that she found the time spent with Lord Endicott to be distasteful. On the contrary, she found she liked it too well for her own comfort. The more time she spent with him, the harder it was to remember that they were only playacting. She had given him the chance to declare his feelings for her, but he had made it clear that his attentions came from his sense of duty. And so her own sense of honor demanded that she set him free at the end of the summer.

  It was exactly one week after the engagement ball, on a sunny afternoon, that Diana journeyed to Hampstead Heath to attend a picnic hosted by Miss Charlotte Fox. It was a small, intimate gathering, with no more than two dozen ladies and gentlemen, along with Miss Fox’s parents, who watched over the young ladies and gentlemen with fond approval. Lord Endicott had not been able to join her, having a previous commitment, but Diana had become friends with Miss Fox and her cousin, Anabelle Dawkins, and looked forward to spending a pleasant afternoon.

  She was not pleased when she realized that George Wright was to be a member of the party. Too late she remembered his past friendship with Arthur Fox. Apparently young Mr. Fox had forgotten his earlier promise that he would no longer associate with Mr. Wright. So much for his sense of honor.

  It was impossible for her to leave without causing a scene, so she resolved to simply put the best face on things that she could. Under the watchful eyes of the others, she exchanged polite greetings with George Wright, who seemed impervious to her glare of disapproval. Arthur Fox soon drew George Wright away in conversation, and the party was large enough that there was no need for Diana to speak with him.

  The word picnic implied a degree of informality, but this was far from the simple country affairs that Diana and her sisters had attended. Instead, tables had been set out on the grass and covered with white linen. The tables were set with silver, and they dined off fine china, enjoying the best delicacies that the Fox’s chef had to offer. There were even ices provided for the ladies’ delectation, carefully stored against the heat until just the right moment.

  After lunch, small groups formed as the guests decided to stroll the park to take in the sights and perhaps to flirt decorously away from parental supervision. Diana and Miss Dawkins chose, instead, to sit underneath a shady tree, upon a wool blanket that had been provided for that very purpose. She watched as George Wright joined a group of gentlemen standing nearby, talking and sipping wine, relieved that he seemed to know enough to keep his distance.

  “I vow I will never eat again,” Miss Dawkins said, as she patted her slender waistline ruefully. “I should know better, but I can never resist lobster cakes. And did you taste the asparagus soup?”

  “It was the ices that amazed me,” Diana said. “To bring them all that way, in such heat, seems a fantastic luxury.”

  “They are Charlotte’s favorite, and her parents can deny her nothing. Especially now when it seems that Lord Wiggams is finally ready to declare his intentions,” Miss Dawkins said, nodding toward the couple as they strolled hand in hand by the ornamental pond.

  “Charlotte must be relieved,” Diana observed. Indeed, Lord Wiggams had been courting Charlotte Fox for nearly two years now. Charlotte had been patient, but she had told her friends that if he did not come up to scratch by the end of the season; she would give him his marching orders and seek out a more decisive gentleman.

  Her attention fixed on the courting couple, Diana did not hear George Wright’s approach.

  “Ladies,” he said, with a bow. “I trust you are enjoying your afternoon?”

  “Indeed, we are,” Miss Dawkins replied.

  Diana said nothing.

  “Miss Somerville, would you be so kind as to accompany me for a turn about the lake?”

  “No,” Diana said, in a display of rudeness that would have been shocking under other circumstances.

  “Yes, she will,” Miss Dawkins said, rising to her feet. “I think that is a lovely idea.”

  “Anabelle,” Diana said warningly.

  “I see my aunt Laura is waving to me,” Miss Dawkins said, not meeting Diana’s gaze. “I must speak with her, and Mr. Wright can bear you company.”

  With that, Miss Dawkins began walking over to Mrs. Fox, who appeared to be quite contentedly conversing with her husband. Diana realized that she had been outmaneuvered and cursed Miss Dawkins under her breath. What was the girl thinking?

  “If you do not wish to walk, I would be happy to join you here,” Mr. Wright said.

  Diana shook her head. She had no wish for the intimacy of sitting side by side upon a wool blanket with this man.

  “If I tell you to go away, will you? As a gentleman should?”

  “No,” Mr. Wright said. She had not thought he would agree. “I came here today with the intention of claiming a few minutes of your time for private conversation. Surely you agree that there are things we must say to one another?”

  “Anything you had to say should have been said months ago,” Diana retorted. “For now, I think silence your best option.”

  “Come now, five minutes of your time,” he said, extending his hand toward her. “I know I do not deserve such a favor, but I ask you to oblige me. As your future brother-in-law.”

  He stood there, his hand still extended toward her. She knew they made an odd tableau, and with a sigh of reluctance she rose to her feet, ignoring his outstretched hand. “Five minutes,” she said.

  She wondered what it was about him that he managed to get her to agree to things that she knew were wrong.

  He picked up her parasol and handed it to her, waiting as she opened it and adjusted it against the sun. Then she began walking to the lake, and he fell in step beside her.

  She had nothing to fear. They were in full view of the others, in a public place. All he could do was talk to her, and there was nothing he could say that would harm her.

  Silence stretched between them, until she broke it. “This was your idea. Speak,” she commanded. “Or I will return to the others.”

  “I have rehearsed this moment a hundred times, but now words fail me,” Mr. Wright said. “If we were in private I would fall to my knees. As it is, I can only stand here and tell you how much I regret my behavior. When I remember my actions on that night, I am ashamed of myself. I know I do not deserve your pardon, but I want you to know that you have my heartfelt regrets.”

  She could not believe her ears. She glanced over at him and saw that his gaze was fixed firmly on the ground, his head low as if he were truly repentant.

  “There can be no forgiveness for what you tried to do,” Diana said, stunned by his effrontery. “And as for your apology, it is a little late, do you not think? Over two months too late.”

  “I understand your anger, and after today I will never again inflict my presence upon you. I just wanted you to know how sorry I am.”

  “And this is supposed to change things?”

  Their footsteps slowed, until they were standing at the edge of the pond. From here only their backs would be visible to the rest of the picnickers. There was no need to worry about what their expressions might reveal.

>   “I was drunk that night, though it is no excuse, I know. And I behaved impulsively, urged on by men of low character whom I had called friends. Indeed, so lost in depravity was I, that I brought you great harm. The next morning I could not bear to look at you, for in your eyes I saw reflected my own shame. Like a foolish boy I ran from London, letting my so-called friends convince me to join them on their journey to the Continent.”

  She listened, drawn into his narrative in spite of herself. She was surprised at his open admission of culpability and that he was not trying to make excuses for his conduct.

  “And then? Why did you return?”

  Mr. Wright turned sideways to face her.

  “I could not stop thinking of you,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “Every day you were in my thoughts, and the longer I stayed away, the more I realized that I was behaving as a coward. I came back to London to take responsibility for what I had done and to make amends in any way I could.”

  Her emotions were churning. One part of her insisted that his words were nothing but a self-serving lie, a pretty tale meant to regain her trust. But another part was not certain. He seemed so sincere in his misery, in his haunted expression and artless words.

  “And you found me engaged to marry your brother,” Diana said.

  “In hindsight I suppose I should have expected it. Stephen has always been like that, always rushing in, even where he is not wanted. Just for once, I thought he would treat me like a man and let me take responsibility for my own actions. But, instead, he has robbed me of any chance of doing the honorable thing.”

  The bitterness in his voice was palpable.

  “You would have offered to marry me?”

  “Of course. It is why I returned. But, instead, I find I am not needed. Stephen has risen to the occasion. Not that I blame you. The Viscount Endicott is a far better catch than I.”