A Scandalous Proposition

by Wendy Soliman

  “Ah, Tina my love, there you are!” The dowager’s face came alight. “Allow me to make you known to my son, Lord Fitzroy.”

  Her Grace hadn’t exaggerated when she’d described her son as compelling. But he was a great deal more than that. His presence was commanding, his air authoritative, even when, as now, he was looking so furious. There was about him a sense of uncompromising masculinity that only added to his allure, despite his grey eyes being as hard as flint. They rested upon her with hostile contempt.

  Florentina arranged her features into an expression of serene neutrality, drew another ragged breath and forced herself to meet his lordship’s gaze. Their eyes clashed and his expression underwent several changes, each more sinister than its predecessor. A frown was still deeply etched on his forehead and he was clearly having the greatest difficulty keeping his temper in check, which didn’t exactly come as a surprise. But would he give her away?

  Well, of course he would! The lingering ray of hope she dared to entertain, spawned in the wake of Christine’s optimism, withered beneath his basilisk glare. He thought her to be a courtesan so would hardly countenance her presence in his mother’s establishment and have her tainted by association. Christine had assured her that when he realised how highly regarded she was by the dowager, he wouldn’t immediately denounce her. According to her friend, Lord Fitzroy cared too much for his mother’s well-being to act without thinking the situation through first. But, even if that was true, any reprieve was likely to be of short duration. As soon as he could he would seek her out and demand an explanation.

  And she was well aware that she owed him one. Well…several actually. But how much to tell him?

  Florentina had lain awake most of the night in the chamber next to Christine’s, using the intervening period to ponder upon her difficulties. She’d not been able to avoid hearing Christine’s bright laughter and the sound of his lordship’s deep, rumbling voice. His frequent expressions of pleasure as Christine exhorted him to reach his pinnacle on more occasions than she would have imagined any one man capable of achieving during the course of a single night. As she listened, a feeling of acute loneliness had washed over her and she wished she could have been the recipient of his arduous lovemaking. Such thoughts came as a shock. She’d not previously been aware that she missed the physical side of her marriage. Merely the man himself.

  This time Florentina had had advance notice that she would be meeting Lord Fitzroy, much as she might prefer to avoid the encounter altogether. Her nerves were in tatters as a consequence, which had made her clumsy as she prepared for the showdown that would expose her as a fraud. Her regard for the dowager was genuine so she would regret losing her position almost as much as she would hate causing that lady further distress.

  Florentina wore a demure morning gown of blue dimity with a high neckline and long sleeves. It was too large and hung from her frame without drawing attention to her figure. She’d braided her hair tightly and coiled it on top of her head in a style that didn’t flatter, to make herself look less like the courtesan his lordship supposed her to be.

  When his lordship continued to focus chilly eyes upon her but didn’t immediately say anything, Florentina let out an inaudible sigh of relief. She was living on borrowed time. She knew that very well and would use it to try to mend a few fences with Her Grace’s handsome son. Show herself to him in a better light.

  “Adam.” The dowager, catching sight of his scowling countenance, appeared perplexed. “This is my very great friend and companion, Mrs. Florentina Grantley.”

  Florentina curtsied, suspecting that her relief must be plain when his lordship inclined his head very slightly in her direction.

  “Mrs. Grantley,” he said through tightly pursed lips.

  “Come and sit beside me, Tina, and tell me how you found things in Kent. Mrs. Grantley has just this morning returned from a visit to an ailing aunt in that county. You were so precipitous with your call upon me this morning, Adam, that she’s not yet had an opportunity to tell me what misfortunes awaited her there.”

  “I see.”

  “Indeed, I’m surprised to see you back so soon, Tina. Surprised but delighted, of course. You could hardly have had time to arrive before turning ’round and coming straight back again. I do hope you didn’t cut your visit short on my account.”

  “I found my aunt greatly recovered, I thank you, ma’am. And since my cousin was able to get away after all, she insisted upon removing Mrs. Watson directly to Bath. She’s convinced that the spa waters will aid her recovery.” Florentina was conscious of his lordship’s eyes burning with contempt as she spun this fiction and felt herself blushing beneath his scrutiny. “And I dare say she’s right about that.”

  “You have relations in England, Mrs. Grantley? I thought my mother mentioned that you are Spanish.”

  “Yes, I am. Mrs. Watson is my late husband’s aunt.” At least that was no falsehood. “When my husband was killed, I returned to England and she was kind enough to take me in.” Florentina felt the familiar sadness wash through her as she dwelt upon the nature of her brave husband’s untimely passing. “And here I am.”

  “A circumstance for which I’m truly grateful.” The dowager patted her hand.

  “You followed the drum, Mrs. Grantley?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see.”

  His lordship had nothing further to say on the matter and pointedly turned his head to stare out of the window instead. The conversation stuttered because of his disinclination to keep it flowing, and Florentina could see that Her Grace was disconcerted by his lack of manners. She was clearly not accustomed to seeing him behave so boorishly, and her eyes flitted in confusion between them. When he stood up a mere ten minutes later and informed his mother that he would return to the Court to see his brother, she didn’t try to detain him.

  “Tina, my dear, if you’re not too fatigued perhaps you’d have the goodness to call upon Mrs. Phillips in the village. I had Boyle take a basket of vegetables to the stables and ordered the gig to be prepared. Mrs. Phillips has been suffering from swollen joints and can’t get about,” she explained, linking her arm through her son’s as she escorted him to the door. “Since she brought all seven of you into this world, I hold her in high esteem and don’t like to think of her not feeling quite the thing.”

  “I shall be delighted to call upon her, ma’am,” Florentina said.

  “Excellent. Adam, perhaps you’ll escort Florentina to the stables.”

  “With pleasure.” But his tone indicated that he would derive anything but pleasure from her society.

  Florentina’s heart quailed at the prospect of a private interview with Lord Fitzroy. She would give much to delay that unpleasant necessity until she felt more equal to facing his intrusive questions. However, it would be as well to clear the air between them straight away. Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point, and if his lordship meant to denounce her, then she would prefer to know it at once and prepare to face the consequences.

  Lord Fitzroy kissed his mother and offered his arm to Florentina with an exaggerated flourish. Judging from Her Grace’s satisfied smile, she mistook the gesture for gallantry. Florentina knew he was merely being sarcastic. She reluctantly placed her hand on his sleeve and they walked away from the dower house side by side.

  “I confess to being at a loss about how to address you,” he said, as soon as they were clear of the building. “Tell me, do I refer to you as Mrs. Smith, Florentina or Mrs. Grantley?” His caustic tone made her knees start quaking again. He was obviously even angrier than she’d at first realised, presumably because he’d kept his temper under control in his mother’s presence. “Are any of those names yours by right?”

  “Of course, I—”

  “Speaking personally, I must profess to a preference for Mrs. Smith. It so lacks imagination that one is almost tempted to believe it must be genuine. I mean to say,” he added, waving his free arm about to emphasize his point, “any
accomplished liar, and I have good reason to know that I’m currently in the company of one, might reasonably be expected to come up with something more original.”

  His eyes, flat and hard, fell contemptuously upon her face. She attempted to snatch her hand away from his arm but his other hand came down on top of it and held it firmly in place.

  “My name is Mrs. Maria Florentina Grantley.” She gave up the uneven struggle to reclaim her hand. With a rebellious toss of her head she reminded herself that she deserved his derision and must not retaliate, no matter how much he goaded her. “Previously Maria Florentina Sanchez-Vallez of Saragossa.”

  “Ah, Saragossa. I see.”

  “I doubt that very much.”

  “Then perhaps you’ll have the goodness to explain. You’ve had ample opportunity to invent a convincing story, knowing that you’d soon be meeting me again.”

  Florentina inverted her chin, breathing deeply as she struggled to remain in control. She was aware that her entire future, to say nothing of those dependent upon her, rested upon her ability to convince this elegant and very angry sophisticate not to give her away. If she allowed him to provoke her into losing her temper then her cause would be completely hopeless.

  “My husband was Captain Simon Grantley and he gave his life in the Battle of Copenhagen.”

  “You have my sympathies.”

  For the first time Florentina noticed a slight lessening in his antagonistic attitude and was hugely encouraged to see that he believed her. So he ought, since she’d spoken nothing but the truth in respect of her husband.

  “Thank you.” She inclined her head in gracious acceptance of his condolences.

  “Your husband formed part of the army commanded by General Wellesley?”

  “Yes, he had that distinction.”

  “And so you returned to England to avoid the war that rages in your country. Presumably you had no family left in Saragossa to return to.”

  “No, I did not.” Florentina couldn’t meet his eye as she added another falsehood to a growing list.

  “And so you placed yourself in the care of your husband’s aunt. Why aren’t you still there?” He paused for a moment and then let out a short, mirthless laugh. “Ah, pray excuse me for being so obtuse. Obviously you’re not with her because she doesn’t exist.”

  “Indeed she does!”

  “Forgive me if I don’t believe you, but you only have yourself to blame for that. I first encountered you in an inn. Alone in an inn—”

  “Since I was travelling alone and the stage stopped there to change horses, what other option did I have?”

  “There was an elderly lady travelling on the coach. I heard her voice. You ought to have attached yourself to her.”

  “I didn’t think.”

  “So it would appear. However, where was I? Oh yes, you were in an inn where no lady worthy of the name would dream of appearing unescorted, pursued by an oaf of a man who was clearly no relation of yours. And if that were not enough to make me doubt your integrity, I then encountered you at a bawdy house and have just now had to sit in silence whilst you spun a web of lies which that my mother swallowed piecemeal.”

  “They were not lies,” she protested hotly. “Mrs. Watson does exist but she’s not a wealthy woman. Neither does she enjoy the best of health.” That part of her account was true, anyway. “She was kind to me but it was obvious that I was a burden to her. It soon became apparent that I would have to find a way to earn my own living. My husband didn’t leave me provided for, you see.”

  “But I still maintain that you were not returning from a visit to her when I first encountered you at that inn. You would not have arrived on the London stagecoach if you were.” He was watching her so closely that she blushed, deeply ashamed of her behaviour. “Besides, if you had an innocent reason for being at the Feathers, there was no occasion for you to lie about your true identity when you found out who I was.”

  “Yes, but I—”

  “All you needed to do was introduce yourself and ask me to escort you back to the Court. You must have known I would have gladly been of service to you in that respect.” He slowed his pace, turned his head and looked directly at her. “Why did you not do that, Mrs. Smith?”

  Why indeed? She’d been asking herself the same question all night long. “Well, the thing is…that’s to say—”

  “Yes?”

  The sarcastic manner in which he growled the one word was her undoing. “Had you behaved in a more gentlemanly manner and introduced yourself immediately, then naturally I would have done so.”

  He winced and she knew her barb had struck home. “Ah, so you hold me to blame for your duplicity.”

  “I am not the conniving individual you appear to take me for.”

  “But you still gave me a false name.”

  “I was being cautious. I had no idea who you were.”

  “What did you imagine I would do to you?” he asked. She merely glared at him. “Thank you for your high opinion of me. I’d just rescued you, treating you with the respect due to a lady. In my anxiety for your safety I forgot to mention my name straightaway, and for that reason you felt you couldn’t trust me.”

  Damn his eyes, why did he always have to sound so reasonable? “It’s not so much a matter of trust exactly. It was simply that circumstances conspired against me. As soon as you told me who you were, you spirited me through the kitchens of that inn. It was hardly the sort of conversation that could be conducted between the pots and pans, in front of intrigued kitchen maids.”

  “Nevertheless, by the time we reached Oakley Common, you could have said something.”

  No, she couldn’t. It had been imperative that she reach Chamberleigh and warn Christine of the danger they were now facing. “Well, I—”

  “Don’t bother to invent any more Banbury tales for my benefit, Mrs. Smith. Entertaining as they are, I don’t have time for them and so I’ll save you the trouble by telling you what I think.”

  “This ought to be interesting,” she muttered, still seething at his high-handed attitude.

  “You couldn’t remain with your husband’s aunt and required an alternative means of supporting yourself. You were noticed by someone who persuaded you to join Christine’s establishment.” His eyes travelled the length of her body, lingering on her breasts, which was when Florentina realised just what an inadequate disguise her ill-fitting gown was turning out to be. “You certainly have the beauty and the necessary physical accoutrements to excel in that profession, even if you have done all you can to disguise them from me today.” She flushed angrily, mortified and insulted. Judging from his twisted smile, her discomfort afforded him some satisfaction. “And you have been…er, working for Christine ever since. Am I right?”

  Florentina stopped dead in her tracks and gasped in outrage. She’d spoken the truth about her husband. She’d loved him passionately. He’d died in defence of his country and she still missed him every single day. Despite everything, surely his lordship could see that? She had frequently heard the dowager praise her son’s deep sense of perspicacity. But it was now clear that a mother’s partiality had caused her to mistake a quick mind for a just one. He saw only what he wished to see and lacked the ability to think laterally. Did he really suppose she would willingly prostitute herself, become the plaything of any man who could afford her price, after she’d experienced the bliss of such a tender, all-encompassing love? Did he think her as shallow and grasping as that?

  She chanced a glance at his profile. His features were set in stone and she could see by the set to his jaw that he very likely did.

  This was too much! He’d insulted her by every means at his disposal and Florentina’s temper flared. If he really thought her to be a light-skirt, then she wouldn’t disappoint him.

  “Indeed, my lord.” She fluttered her lashes in the manner some of Christine’s ladies employed when conversing with members of the opposite sex. In the past the gesture had always left her with an overwhelmi
ng urge to giggle but today giggling was the last thing on her mind. “And I can assure you that the financial rewards enable me to live very comfortably.”

  His lordship snorted. “If that’s the case, why are you ensconced with my mother?”

  “Oh, I own that was fortunate. I’m acquainted with Lady Madison, you see, and she happened to mention my requirement for employment to your mother.”

  “Lady Madison not being aware of your true vocation, presumably?”

  “No, indeed. I could hardly reveal my real reason for being in the district so invented the need for a respectable position to put her off the track.”

  “And when my mother took a liking to you, you recognised an opportunity to ply your trade under cover of your duties as her companion.”

  “Sí. It was altogether too good an opportunity to pass up.” She smiled at him in an effort to disguise the strain she felt at perpetuating this myth, astonished by his readiness to now believe every word she spoke. She thought of her elder brother, still acting as a scout for the British, doubtless in perilous territory. Images of his charming smile stiffened her resolve. “It means, you see, that when I become too old and ugly to please my gentleman callers, I will have another means of support.”

  “Yes, and with the dower house being so close to Christine’s establishment it must be easy for you to carry off the deception.” He bowed mockingly. “I congratulate you on your cunning.”

  Florentina didn’t dare to look at him but could hear the disgust underlying every word he spoke. If she saw it reflected in his expression, she doubted whether she’d be able to continue with this charade and would instead give way to the very real desire to strike him. And so she disciplined herself to block out his words and continued to play the part she’d invented for herself. Better for him to believe she was a doxy than demand an alternative explanation for her behaviour, forcing the truth out of her by threatening to remove her from the dower house.