My Lady's Pleasure

by Julia Justiss

  Suitably attired with shawl and mittens, she set off across the rose walk. But even after she’d made a slow inspection of each of the three garden rooms, there was no news of a visitor.

  Valeria sat down on a bench and lifted her face to the soft, early spring sun. Surely the hour was late enough. They had specified this morning, had they not?

  Perhaps something had come up to delay him. But if so, why had he not sent her a note of explanation?

  She took another circuit of the garden, more quickly this time. But by the end of that transit, she could no longer avoid acknowledging the bitter truth: after she had given him that oh-so-public invitation in the ballroom, Teagan Fitzwilliams was not going to call.

  She should be insulted. Instead, her chest tightened with an inexplicable sense of loss.

  ’Twas foolish in the extreme to be so disappointed. It just pointed up the uncomfortable fact that she, at least, had been far too eager to see him again.

  An eagerness he plainly didn’t share.

  Perhaps he’d just been toying with a woman who was obviously anxious for his company. That lowering thought revitalized her flagging spirits as nothing else had, and anger flickered.

  She was being just the sort of fool her grandmother had deplored, investing with far too much importance an excursion for which her intended escort couldn’t even be bothered to make an appearance. Perhaps he’d chosen to speak to her on a lark, to see how much he could induce the little country bumpkin to blush, and never had any intention of calling.

  Her ire truly roused now, she raised her chin. Teagan Fitzwilliams might not find a jaunt about London interesting enough to tempt him from other pursuits, but Valeria Arnold was not to be put off so easily. She wished to visit the city, and visit it she would.

  She would send Molly out for a suitable map, she decided, and ask the maid which of the footmen she considered stout enough, and agreeable enough, to act as their escort. Then she’d figure how to wheedle Lady Winterdale into excusing the servant from his duties long enough to accompany them.

  She sprang up, ready to march back to house and summon Molly, when a footman hurried down the path to her. “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am,” he called. “You’ve a caller awaitin’ in the parlor.”

  Her wrath cooled as if doused with ice water, leaving her with a mix of surprise, delight and trepidation.

  “W-who is it?”

  “A gentleman, ma’am. Jennings didn’t give his name.”

  Don’t be a looby, she told herself as she followed the footman. It might not even be Mr. Fitzwilliams.

  But her pulses, already fluttering, leaped as she walked into the parlor. By the window, golden hair glinting in the noonday light, stood Teagan Fitzwilliams.

  He turned when the butler announced her, a slight smile on his face, his eyes that mesmerizing kaleidoscope of gold and amber.

  “Lady Arnold,” he said, and made her a deep bow.

  Oh, Grandmamma was right. Teagan Fitzwilliams was all too dazzling.

  Valeria sucked in a breath and ordered herself to produce coherent speech. “Good morning, Mr. Fitzwilliams. Jennings, would you bring us tea?”

  After the slightest flicker of a glance toward her guest, the butler bowed. “As you wish, my lady.”

  Valeria made herself walk calmly toward him, wishing the butterflies in her stomach felt less like sparrows flapping bony little wings against her ribs.

  She should be cool and distantly polite. After all, he was late. Very late. He owed her an explanation, and it had better be a good one.

  “Won’t you sit down, Mr. Fitzwilliams?”

  He stepped toward her, raised a hand as if to take hers, then closed it into a fist and drew it back. “N-no, I shouldn’t. I should just stand and deliver the apology I owe you for being so frightfully tardy. Actually, I had convinced myself that I ought not to come at all.”

  Despite her rallying speech in the garden not a quarter hour previous, Valeria felt a ridiculous sense of hurt squeeze her chest, displacing the thumping sparrows.

  “If you have changed your mind and do not wish to accompany me, of course I—”

  “No! No, you mustn’t think that. I should love to escort you!” He gave her his full smile then, that curve of dimpled cheek and slight narrowing of eyes that somehow only made their outrageous sparkle brighter. “But,” he continued, the smile dimming, “after much reflection, I concluded it would be…wiser if I did not. Indeed,” he added with a lift of his brow, “I’m fair astonished you even received me. I’d rather expected to have Lady Winterdale’s butler bar your front door against my encroaching person.”

  Valeria knew he meant the remark to be amusing. But suddenly she was pierced by the image of a golden-haired orphan, then a man, standing on the front steps of a succession of houses while a lifetime of doors slammed in his face.

  She pushed the disturbing vision aside. “And why is that? I’ve not been long in the city, but I thought it was customary for a gentleman to call on a lady to whom he’d been properly introduced the previous—”

  His wry chuckle startled her into silence. “Whist, and you did roll them up, horse, foot and guns! A clever stratagem, my lady, but a sophist’s trick, as we both know. As I’m sure your guardian has explained to you at length, mine is not an acquaintance you ought to pursue.”

  Valeria lifted her chin. “I’m not a green girl, to be told who I should see and who I shouldn’t.”

  “’Tis not a bad thing to attend to those who have your best interests at heart. Which is why, in the end, I decided to come this morning. That, and the belief that your kind defense of me deserved better than the rudeness of my not keeping our appointment at all.”

  His face had grown serious, and Valeria felt the spirits sent soaring when she beheld him standing by the parlor window once again sink.

  “So…you’re not going to escort me.”

  He looked away, as if the hurt she hadn’t been able to keep out of her voice was reflected also on her face.

  “It was inexcusably selfish of me to seek you out last night. You are new to the city, so you may not know, but I assure you every spiteful cat and idle dandy in the ton is speculating over their morning chocolate today about why the notorious Teagan Fitzwilliams sought an introduction to a shy country widow. And given his temperament, when my Yorkshire host, your neighbor Lord Crandall, hears of it, he will certainly draw conclusions detrimental to your reputation that, I’m afraid, he will be only too happy to broadcast to the largest possible audience.”

  Teagan paused, his face grim as if envisioning the uproar. “Fortunately,” he continued, “the ton, though malicious, has a short memory. If we have nothing further to do with each other, some new scandal will soon occur to displace the rumors. So regrettably, I must withdraw my offer. After the…kindness we have shared, I cannot permit an association with me to tarnish your sterling character.”

  Valeria stared into his eyes, but could detect neither irony nor falsehood. Though Mr. Fitzwilliams wished for her company, he would eschew it…to protect her reputation.

  A tiny knot of gratification and wonder grew in her incredulous chest. And the ton believed him no gentleman!

  Valeria couldn’t help the smile that sprang to her lips. “As it happens, after hearing the account of our ‘introduction,’ Grandmamma drew the same conclusions.”

  Mr. Fitzwilliams had turned toward the window, but at that he whirled to face her. Surely that wasn’t…a blush beginning to color his cheeks?

  “She believes that I…that we—?”

  Valeria nodded, still smiling.

  He blew out a gusty breath and ran a hand through his hair. “I wonder she didn’t have me shot on sight.”

  “She did warn me that the ‘foolishness’ a widow might indulge herself with in the country would not be possible in London, where members of the ton seem to do nothing but spy on and gossip about all the other members of the ton.”

  “She’s a wise lady, your grandma
mma.”

  “Yes. I agreed that such…reckless conduct would be out of place here. But I also informed her that I refused to allow the prejudiced opinions of the fashionable world to dictate my actions. As I myself find nothing to reproach in your behavior toward me, and since you know all of London well—by the way, you do, don’t you?”

  “Y-yes, but—”

  “Then, if you are still agreeable, I see no reason not to have you escort me as we discussed. We shall explore in the mornings, as I’m obligated to make calls with Lady Farrington most afternoons, and my maid will accompany us to preserve the dictates of propriety. Though I must say, I consider her presence a nonsensical requirement, and hope she will not expire from boredom. Now, I’ve been going over my guidebook all morning. I fear it’s too late to set out today, but perhaps tomorrow—”

  “You cannot be serious! My little innocent, though you may persist in your fantasy that I’m a gentleman, I assure you that the ton speaks of me in very different terms. Broad daylight and accompanying maids won’t matter a ha’pence. ’Tis a fragile thing, a reputation—a woman’s even more so than a man’s. You may think that by associating with me you are only being fair and impartial, but the world will not see it so. They will say I intended to seduce you, lead you to ruin. And ruined you will be.”

  When Valeria uttered a dismissive laugh, he continued. “’Tis no joking matter. Surely your grandmother is presenting you in hopes of finding you another husband. Rumors that you are conducting an affair with me would destroy any chance of attracting a respectable suitor, and close the doors of the best of polite society to you.”

  He rounded on her, the intensity of his gaze holding hers. “You cannot conceive what ’tis like to be cast into permanent exile from decent company, to have your name always linked to slander or spoken with sly innuendo. You would rue the loss of your good reputation till your dying day. Which is about as long as you would hate the man who caused you to lose it.” His impassioned tone softened. “Please, Lady Arnold, let us be able to part as friends.”

  The conviction in his voice shook her to the marrow. Before she could prevent herself, she asked, “Rue the loss of my good name, as you have rued the loss of yours?”

  For an instant he froze. Then, almost as if he were physically donning a mask, she watched him wipe the earnest expression from his face, shake his head and summon up a smile. “Me? Whist, and when had an Irish beggar’s brat any good name to lose? Nay, dear lady, ’tis your own fair self that concerns me.”

  “Yes, being a beggar’s brat and a seducing rogue, you always worry about the reputation of fair ladies.”

  The smile slipped a little. “Nay, I haven’t always.”

  Despite the teasing expression still on his face, for an instant Valeria saw such bleakness in the depths of his eyes that she had the absurd desire to gather him into her arms. Mercifully, before she rashly did something that would have embarrassed them both, the look vanished.

  Rattled by the intensity of that compulsion to embrace him, she could think of nothing to say.

  Then a wave of awareness swept through her, some wordless sense of connection that drew her irresistibly to Teagan Fitzwilliams with an attraction that went well beyond the physical. She had known, as he had, an orphan’s fate, the terror of losing all that was beloved and familiar. Known the anguish of being rejected by one she thought would love her, and left to make her way alone in an indifferent world.

  They stood motionless, bound in place by the strength of what was flowing between them. A bond she knew was mutual just as clearly as she knew he would never acknowledge or act upon it. In order to protect her.

  With the only soul she now cared about having only weeks left to live, Valeria didn’t want to give up this profound, inexplicable link. Somehow she must convince him that parting ways wasn’t necessary.

  Jennings’s knock at the door startled them both.

  “You must at least take tea before you leave,” Valeria said, gesturing to the settee before busying herself with the tray the butler left before them.

  Her caller hesitated, obviously debating the rudeness of refusing against the prudence of an immediate departure.

  “Sugar, Mr. Fitzwilliams?” She dropped her gaze to his cup so he could not catch her eye to make his excuses.

  She heard him sigh, followed by the soft slide of superfine against brocade upholstery. “If you please.”

  Silence fell while Valeria worked to prepare their tea and her arguments. “Though I appreciate your experienced view of London society, Mr. Fitzwilliams,” she said a moment later, handing him his cup, “there is another factor of which you are not aware. Although it is not yet generally known, Lady Winterdale intends to settle her fortune on me.”

  She risked glancing at him. The surprise on his face appeared genuine.

  “That is excellent news. My congratulations.”

  “Now, I will allow that if country-nobody Lady Arnold dallied with a rogue, Society might well delight in shredding her reputation. However, much will be excused the heiress of the rich Lady Winterdale. I doubt I would be left completely friendless.”

  He nodded. “Aye, the glitter of gold makes an excellent cleanser. But unless you remain completely above reproach, some of the more discriminating would still cut your acquaintance. ’Tis a risk you need not take.”

  “Perhaps not. But, as we’ve both noted, I’m not a ton lady, nor, given what I’ve seen of them thus far, am I sure I wish to be. Oh, I’ve enjoyed Grandmamma’s hospitality, but I suppose I’ve been a soldier’s daughter too long. Having lived among men who in the course of their duties put their lives at risk daily, I rather doubt I’d ever feel at home in a society whose time is spent mostly in the frivolous pursuit of pleasure.” She smiled wistfully. “I’m not sure where I belong.

  “But,” she continued before he could comment, “the imminent possession of a fortune frees me from having to worry about Society’s good opinion. I need not remarry unless I choose to. And I certainly would not marry a man who would believe Society’s evaluation of me rather than make his own assessment of my character.”

  “Such a man would certainly not be worthy of you.”

  She smiled. “Precisely. So you see, if you still refuse to honor your promise of escorting me, I am forced to conclude that your concern for my reputation is merely a pretext to avoid my company.” She took a deep breath, steeling herself to ask, “Will you make me conclude that?”

  Mr. Fitzwilliams stared at his teacup, thumb rubbing the thin china stem, as if engaged in some inner struggle. “I should affirm it. In truth…Lord forgive me, but I cannot. Neither, though, can I countenance harming you.”

  Euphoria filled Valeria, sent a smile bubbling to her lips. “You won’t. You are merely a knowledgeable friend acquainting me with the attractions offered by your city.”

  “The ton will never believe that.”

  She shrugged. “The ton can believe what it likes.”

  For a moment he said nothing. Then, with a deep sigh, he looked up at her. “So be it then.”

  “Naturally, there will be no repetition of the…foolishness my aunt deplored.”

  His changeable eyes grew alert, their sparkle intensifying. Slowly he scanned her from her forehead down her face, her neck, to linger at her breasts before returning to focus on her lips. Heat scoured Valeria in the wake of that glance.

  “Whist, will there not?” he murmured. “Is it sure you are?”

  Watching the dimple that creased his cheeks and the roguish gleam in his eyes, she was not sure at all. “Certainly,” she lied. “You will conduct yourself as the perfect gentleman I have pronounced you to be. So, do we have a bargain, Mr. Fitzwilliams?”

  He raised his teacup to her in salute before placing it back on the table. “A bargain it is, Lady Arnold.”

  Her pulses leaped in joyous expectation. With a calm Valeria was far from feeling, she carefully deposited her own teacup and rose to hold out her hand. “Until
tomorrow then, Mr. Fitzwilliams.”

  He came over and kissed it. “Until tomorrow.”

  Scarcely breathing, Valeria watched him walk out, her fingers burning where he had held them, her hand tingling where he had kissed. Legs turning shaky, she collapsed back into her chair.

  Oh, my, this was definitely not wise. And she was going to do it anyway.

  As he walked back to his lodgings, Teagan found himself breaking into a whistle.

  He shouldn’t be feeling this surge of energy, as if every sense had been heightened. He should be castigating himself for not having talked Lady Arnold out of the foolishness of seeing him again.

  But oh, with a ferocity so deep-seated it almost frightened him, he wanted to see her. And so he’d given in, let the lady have her way.

  How unique she was with her mix of innocence and worldly wisdom, her lack of concern for presenting a fashionable facade. She possessed a perception that was almost painfully acute and a straightforward manner entirely bereft of guile. Her wit delighted him, her honesty charmed him, and despite his acquiescence in the matter of seducing her again, her mere presence enflamed him more than the practiced wiles of the most voluptuous society matron.

  ’Twas a conflagration he’d hold at a low burn, though. He’d given her his word.

  Unless, of course, she chose to break the agreement. His mouth dried and his body hardened at the prospect.

  Even the weariness with which he faced another night’s ritual of gaming faded in the face of his anticipation. For the first time in recent memory, Teagan could not wait for it to be tomorrow.

  Her mind wandering, but with a polite smile on her face, Valeria served tea to the guests who stopped by Lady Farrington’s afternoon at-home. She was performing the hostess’s duties alone, however, her chaperone having taken to her bed again upon being informed that Valeria had not only received Teagan Fitzwilliams this morning, but was insisting she meant to go driving with him tomorrow.