“She is in London,” he murmured.
After all it was not a lie.
“And you are in the country. Oh, Robert! How I have missed you!”
“Your husband, is he still ill?” the Earl replied sarcastically.
“Hanging on for dear life, I am afraid. I grew tired of waiting for him to die, so I came back. To you!”
“Sophia, your place is with your husband.”
“He is so old and addled – he would not know if it was me or a pumpkin sitting by his bed!”
The Earl sighed.
He wished he had never set eyes on Lady Marlow, despite her pretty face. At the beginning she had seemed so charming and friendly, intelligent, well read and elegant.
She knew everyone who was anyone in India and at first he had been glad of the distraction and enjoyed her company. But she had soon made unseemly advances towards him and his gentle rebuffs had not been heeded.
And then that night in the Khan’s Palace when she tried to kiss him, he had been shocked beyond words.
She was a few years older than him and bolder than any woman he had ever known. Her husband, the dying Baron, was on his last gasp and it was common knowledge that his lovely wife had pursued several affairs.
“Sophia, please don’t be trying. I have attempted to make my feelings quite plain to you. We are friends – do not jeopardise that.”
Lady Marlow, seeing that she had exhausted almost every trick, resorted to tears. She pushed out her bottom lip and looked up at him beseechingly.
“But Robert, I love you! Don’t tell me I have made a fool of myself! I only returned to England because I could not live without you – please don’t send me away.”
“Your husband has a nice house in London, does he not? If you left now, you would be at home by bedtime.”
The Earl put up his hand to ring for Grimm, but the Countess threw herself across the room at him and landed at his feet weeping.
“Don’t make me leave! Don’t send me away!”
“Now you are making a spectacle of yourself. I think it is best if you left. I have told you I love someone else and if you value our friendship, Sophia, you will go now and I will forget this incident happened.”
She was not entirely stupid – she could recognise that, for now, she had been beaten. But she was not a woman to give up easily. She rose to her feet in a dignified manner and brushed off her skirts.
“Very well, I will go,” she muttered.
“I am glad you have seen sense, Sophia. No good can come of you abasing yourself like that.”
She turned to him and smiled – a smile that was full of cunning.
“Goodbye then for the present, Robert,” she pouted flirtatiously, “and don’t think for a moment I have given up on you.”
Before he could open his mouth, she had flounced out. He stood there, half hating her and half hating himself for allowing matters to become so difficult.
If he was honest there was a small fraction of him that was still attracted to her. She was a beautiful and exciting woman – but, as he now reminded himself, she was also an unfaithful wife and of questionable moral fibre.
‘She cannot compare to Lilliana! No one can!’
And that thought made him want to weep – for, to all intents and purposes, she was lost to him for ever.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lilliana felt as if she was living in a gilded cage. Lord Farringdon was a very generous man and she did not lack for material things.
He bought her many presents – small trinkets and baubles. He had excellent taste and she had to admit that, if they had been from anyone else, she would have been thrilled.
Deep down, he was not an unkind man, but he was very selfish and Lilliana soon realised that his generosity depended upon how she conducted herself towards him.
She was still not allowed out alone – and Alice, her new maid, watched her like a hawk.
However, if she was disdainful or ungrateful, Lord Farringdon’s wrath was terrible to behold. He would draw all the curtains so that she could not even see outside.
She missed Antoinette so much.
Alice, whilst not the harridan she had expected, was hard-faced and unpleasant. She behaved towards her in a sullen way and watched Lilliana’s every move.
She looked forward to her visits to the seamstress – the closer the wedding became, it was necessary for her to visit the workshop rather than have her at home.
And then there was the shoemaker – a very clever man who was making a beautiful pair of slippers for her in white silk with seed pearls and high heels.
She also looked forward to the times when Andrew was in residence at Park Street. He was often travelling to Manchester and Glasgow as well as abroad, so he was not often in London.
A visit was often heralded by great canvases being delivered to the house. Lord Farringdon was very fond of his younger brother and indulged him a great deal.
Andrew liked to ask Lilliana her opinion about the paintings.
“Lilliana, are you going out?” he said one day as she went to the carriage.
Mrs. Lock scowled at him.
“I am afraid I will not be back until later, Andrew,” she responded with genuine regret, “I have an appointment with the seamstress.”
“Your wedding gown?”
“Yes, it is nearly finished.”
“I would have hoped so. You are to be wed next weekend after all.”
“I am.”
Lilliana hung her head low. It felt as if she was in a runaway carriage.
“Never mind. I will wait until you return for your esteemed opinion on my latest batch of daubings!”
“These are not daubings,” she laughed. “You have dealings with many great artists.”
Andrew nodded his head in agreement.
“Some of them will be great one day, but you and I may not live to see that day.”
Lilliana was smiling to herself as she climbed into the carriage. Andrew Farringdon always seemed jolly – so unlike his brother.
At the seamstress’s her wedding dress was nearly ready. She stood on a box and stepped into the gown that was heavy with seed pearls and embroidery.
“You will certainly be the most beautiful bride this year,” sighed the seamstress.
“That will not be difficult when it’s only February,” remarked Mrs. Lock sourly.
“But madam has exquisite skin and white is most flattering against it.”
Lilliana wanted to cry when she saw her reflection. Even she could see how attractive she was and she could not help thinking it would be wasted on Lord Farringdon!
‘This should have been all for Robert,’ she reflected sadly, as she swivelled from side to side to examine the design on the gown.
Seeing herself in the mirror she suddenly felt quite ill. Her fate was horribly sealed and she could not escape.
A thousand wild plans formed in her head.
‘The seamstress appears to be a decent woman,’ she said to herself, ‘what if, when I come for my final fitting, I slip her a letter for Robert and ask her to post it for me?’
But she soon realised that it was just a silly fantasy. She could not possibly compromise her in such a way.
It would be difficult enough to write the letter in the first place. Whenever she wrote to her parents Mrs. Lock would read over her shoulder and tell her to amend things she felt were not suitable.
Having returned, Lilliana hurried to the library.
Andrew was busy instructing one of the footmen to take the packing from a pile of paintings in a crate.
“Good morning! How was your fitting?” he called.
“The dress is all but finished.”
“And are you happy with it?”
“It is a beautiful dress. Your brother has spared no expense.”
Andrew laughed.
“His generosity comes with a cost,” he commented, “but now, I have something to ask you.”
Lilliana was
intrigued.
“I have a fancy to take tea at Fortnum and Mason – would you be so good as to accompany me? Don’t worry, I have already spoken with my brother and he has agreed – on condition that Alice comes with us.”
Lilliana clapped her hands in delight. Fortnum’s! Her favourite shop in London!
“I would like that very much. It’s such a strange coincidence – Mama wants me to buy her some gloves, so I can do that too.”
“Would half-past three suit you?”
“Of course. Now let me see the new acquisitions.”
She lingered over the canvases in the library for a while, before Mrs. Lock came to tell her that Lord Farringdon wished to see her.
He was waiting in the drawing room and she entered anxiously wondering what kind of humour he might be in.
“Mrs. Lock tells me your dress is almost finished. Does it meet with your approval?”
“It does, my Lord.”
“And your trousseau?”
“Nearly complete.”
“Excellent. We leave for Venice the morning after our wedding – the train for Dover departs at eleven o’clock and the ferry to France sails on the evening tide.”
She shuddered at the thought of spending so much time with him – there would be no Andrew to distract her and no other companion save for Alice.
“I am so much looking forward to our honeymoon,” he added with a smile that made her feel sick.
She would rather scrub every floor in the house on her knees, but she knew she had no choice.
“I am going out,” she said, attempting to change the subject. “Andrew is taking me to Fortnum’s for tea.”
“Ah, yes. He asked me earlier if that would be in order. You have been looking rather pale of late, Lilliana, I thought an outing would improve your complexion. I do not want you resembling a ghost on our wedding day.”
“Thank you, my Lord.”
“Now, run along, I am expecting a visitor with whom I am to discuss plans for a new house. My home in Downleigh is outmoded and is not so suitable for a young family – I have found a plot of land nearby that would be ideal for a new home.”
‘So he intends for us to return to the country after we are married,’ she reflected. ‘At least then I will be able to visit Elizabeth and my parents.’
*
Lilliana looked out of the window. The day was a fine one if cold. So often she found February to be one of the most cheerless months, but today was the exception.
Andrew was waiting in the hall and he smiled at her broadly as she descended the stairs, her excitement for the afternoon ahead evident.
“We have chosen the right day to go out, it almost seems a pity to take the carriage.”
“Do we have to?” she asked, so desperate to stretch her legs and feel the wind in her face.
“Alice, run and tell the coachman he is not needed,” proposed Andrew, “we are to go on foot.”
Alice’s expression could have soured milk as she hurried out of the front door to the waiting carriage.
“Allow me,” he said, offering Lilliana his arm.
She took it gladly and they set off down Park Street towards Piccadilly with Alice trotting along behind them scowling all the while.
As they walked along, she soaked up as much of the dim winter sunshine as she could and felt her spirits rise because she was with Andrew.
Lilliana had always enjoyed her visits to Fortnum’s with her mother and father.
“Shall we go straight into tea?” suggested Andrew. “They will run out of the best cakes if we do not eat now.”
“Very well, I will buy the gloves before we leave.”
They were shown to a table with Alice beside them.
As they neared the table, Andrew suddenly came to an abrupt halt and spun round to face the maid.
“Alice,” he began in a confidential tone, “I have just remembered that I was supposed to buy a jar of bee nectar for his Lordship. Would you go to the Food Hall and get one for me? Make certain it is one made from the nectar of Italian bees – he is most particular.”
Alice gave him a look, but mumbled her assent and then took herself off.
The moment that she was out of sight, he burst into peals of laughter.
“It’s a good thing she is not typical of most lady’s maids with a decent education behind her,” he chuckled. “Otherwise she would have known that I have sent her on a wild goose chase! That will keep her occupied for a good half hour if not longer!”
Lilliana stared at him for a moment.
“Goodness, don’t tell me you have not realised that there is no such thing as bee nectar?” he roared, enjoying his own joke. “I made it up to get rid of Alice!
Lilliana began to laugh as well and soon they were wiping their eyes with mirth.
In a few minutes their tea arrived and she thanked him again for suggesting the visit.
“Please, don’t mention it,” he said. “My brother is far too strict – I don’t agree with his imprisonment of you at all. I told him that if he wishes you to care for him, he should not restrict you, but he loves to dictate to all those around him. It has always been so. He does care for you a great deal, I can assure you.”
“Well, I don’t care for the way he shows it. He even insists on reading every letter I write to my Mama,” Lilliana replied, outraged.
“Although I agree that he should be master in his own home, I believe his actions are wrong. I have far more progressive views than he has – if you were my fiancée, I would allow you as much freedom as you wished.
“Lilliana,” he continued confidentially. “I know it to be wrong for me to encourage you to go against your husband-to-be, but if you wish to send private letters, then you have only to hand them to me and I will ensure that they safely reach their destination.”
She paused for a moment and weighed up whether or not he was setting a trap for her.
‘But no,’ she thought, as she looked into his earnest brown eyes, ‘he would genuinely do this for me.’
“Are you certain? I don’t understand why.”
“I have told you – I don’t agree with his actions. I want my brother to be happy and I don’t think he will be if his wife is as miserable as sin. It will be our secret.”
She put out her gloved hand and laid it on his arm.
“Thank you so very much,” she sighed gratefully. “There is just the one letter I would like to send – to an old family friend.”
“Then write it out and put it in the large volume of Italian Renaissance paintings in the library and I will see that it reaches its destination.”
Just at that moment an angry-faced Alice strode in to the restaurant.
“Begging your pardon, sir,” she said with a scarlet flush on her face, “but I had everyone in here searching for bee nectar and then the supervisor said it did not exist!”
Andrew put a hand to his mouth to hide a smile.
“The man is an imbecile – I’ll write and complain about him. Now, sit down.”
With a huff she sat down and refused to take tea.
After Lilliana had made her purchase and they were all walking back, she felt incredibly light and joyful for the first time since she had met Lord Farringdon.
The sun had made an appearance again and, even though it was sinking fast in the sky, Lilliana enjoyed the last few rays as they warmed the chill of her cheeks.
‘I will wait until everyone has gone to bed and then I will write to Robert’s mother and tell her everything,’ she promised herself. ‘It will be safer if I write to her. Perhaps she can think of a way to stop this dreadful wedding.’
And so with renewed hope in her heart she stepped lightly down the street back to Lord Farringdon’s house.
*
At Sherborne Castle the mood was not so light.
The Earl had thrown himself into the running of his estate and spent every spare moment fulfilling his duties.
In spite of thinking he had p
ut off Lady Marlow at last, she continued to visit the castle.
At first he was wary of her, but after a while she seemed to be comporting herself in a dignified manner. She did not mention their relationship or try to throw herself at him.
One day he was at the local Horse Fair, looking to buy a new team for his phaeton, when she appeared.
“Robert, what an unexpected pleasure,” she cooed.
“Sophia, what brings you here? Mother said you had returned to London.”
“I find the country air is doing me too much good to go back to the City,” she replied with a dazzling smile.
Even he had to admit that she looked very attractive that day. Every head turned as she walked along the stalls full of horses of all shapes and sizes.
“Sophia,” he began cautiously, “would you care to have tea tomorrow afternoon? I think it is time we brought matters to a conclusion.”
Her eyes lit up and she coloured with pleasure.
“I would love to,” she murmured, looking through her eyelashes at him. “Will your mother be there?”
“No. She is in Bristol visiting friends.”
“A pity,” she answered, but her expression belied her delight at having him to herself.
After she had left he wondered if he had sounded ambiguous. Far from taking in his true meaning, she could have read more into his invitation than he had intended.
‘No matter, tomorrow I will make certain that she understands that there is no future for us.’
*
The next afternoon, Lady Marlow arrived for tea.
She was wearing a wide hat and dressed in a gown more suitable for a dinner party than for afternoon tea.
The Earl suddenly felt nervous.
She chattered gaily and laughed a lot, showing her white teeth and flashing her eyes.
After Grimm had brought in their tea, he began his carefully rehearsed speech.
He had decided that as his previous stance had not worked, he would try the gentle approach.
“Sophia,” he began with a deep breath. “I believe it is now time we made certain we both understood the nature of our relationship.”
“Naturally,” she answered, “you must say what is on your mind – and in your heart,” she added, coquettishly.
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