My Lady's Pleasure

by Julia Justiss

  She paused and gave him a searching glance. “So, why did you decide to seek me out?”

  “Perhaps because I am finally past the period of youthful follies. I have had enough of gaming, Aunt Charlotte, of living on the fringes of decent society. I came to ask if you would be willing to assist me in finding proper employment and…and help me redeem my reputation.”

  To his surprise, she leaned over and gathered him into a swift embrace. “Oh, my dear Teagan,” she said as she released him, “that has been my fondest wish ever since the dreadful interview with your grandfather turned you against us all! Of course I shall help you. Perhaps, when we have achieved your aims, I shall feel less guilty.”

  “Guilty, Aunt Charlotte? Whatever for? You must know I would never have wished to come between you and your husband. You shouldn’t take yourself to task for not intervening with Grandfather.”

  “It’s more than that, Teagan.” Her smile faded and a look of grief came over her lovely face. “Your mama was not just my cousin—she was my dearest friend. When she ran off, I felt bereft, and when she died, it was as if I had lost a part of myself. When that clergyman found you in Dublin and sent you home, I felt a merciful God had given something of Gwen back to us. I…I wanted to take you. I should have taken you.”

  Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. “Had our situations been reversed, Gwen would have found a way to do that for my son,” she asserted, her voice fervent. “No grandfather’s contention that he belonged with the Montfords, or husband’s insistence that she safeguard her strength for a babe of her own, would have stopped her.”

  The lady’s distress seemed so deep Teagan felt moved to protest. “You mustn’t blame yourself. I’m sure you—”

  “I haven’t yet told you the whole. Do you remember the one visit you paid me, soon after you came to England?”

  “It is one of my most pleasant childhood memories.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I was in a…delicate condition at last. I begged my husband to let you come, and since he wished to keep me happy, he asked Montford to send you to us. But I became ill, and they returned you to your grandfather. I…lost that child, and took many months to recover. After that episode, Darnell wouldn’t hear of your returning. You were too rough and ill-behaved—I would tax my strength. I knew from your short visit how you were being treated, but I put my hopes for a child of my own over the welfare of my dearest friend’s s-son.”

  Lips pressed together, Lady Charlotte fell silent.

  She had wanted him, Teagan thought with a sense of wonder. Surely it could make no difference after all these years, yet somehow the knowledge that his mother’s cousin would have taken him in, had she been allowed to, still had the power to warm some cold, lonely place in his heart.

  And she had suffered from her failure to help him. Teagan put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

  Wiping her eyes with an impatient gesture, Lady Charlotte turned back to him. “By the time I conceded that my hopes of a child would never be realized, you were nearly grown. Then came Oxford, and once again I let others overrule the judgment of my heart. Again, I failed both you and Gwyneth. I tell you all this not to assuage my guilt by asking for forgiveness—nothing will make amends for the errors of the past—but so you will understand why I assure you there is nothing I will not do now to help secure your future.

  So,” she patted his hand, then rose and crossed to ring the bell pull, “let me write some notes. Several of Darnell’s friends still hold positions of influence. Surely one of them will know just the posting to meet your needs. Shall I ask them to join us for dinner tonight?”

  Taken aback by the swiftness of her action, Teagan stuttered, “I—well—y-yes, tonight would be fine.”

  “That is…you do not have any previous engagements?”

  “No, my lady. I am entirely at your disposal.”

  “Excellent. I must go write the necessary letters.”

  Teagan rose and bowed. “How can I thank you enough, Aunt Charlotte?”

  She hesitated. “There is one thing.”

  “If it is within my power to perform, it is yours.”

  She smiled, so tentative and uncertain that he was instantly reminded of Valeria, and a pang of longing pierced him, marrow deep.

  “Would you consider…staying here with me? I know the offer comes twenty years too late, far too late for you ever to allow me to claim you as the son I never bore, but having the ton know that you are residing with me would advance your cause, and—and I should like it very much.”

  Teagan came over to kiss her hand. “I should be honored to reside here. Honored to be considered a son.”

  Once again tears glistened in Lady Charlotte’s eyes, and once again she brushed them away. “T-thank you. That means more than you will ever know. Please excuse me while I prepare the letters, before I turn into a watering-pot like one of those vaporish females I so deplore.”

  She linked her arm in Teagan’s and walked with him to the parlor door. “I’ll instruct Martin to have a suite of rooms prepared, to be at your disposal whenever you choose to make use of them. Now, bid me goodbye like a dutiful son,” she ended, smiling as she held out her hands.

  Teagan saluted them in the elaborate French manner. “My very dear Aunt Charlotte, I am forever in your debt.”

  “Nonsense. ’Tis rather I who am in yours! Perhaps now, when I meet her in the hereafter, I shall finally be able to look your mama in the eye.”

  Late that afternoon, Teagan returned to Lady Charlotte’s town house, the sum total of his earthly possessions bound up in two small trunks and one string-wrapped bundle, the latter given him on his way out of his lodgings by his tearful landlady, Mrs. Smith.

  After bidding him wait a moment, she’d scurried off and returned with a parcel in which he recognized the used copies of Herodotus, Plato, Homer and Virgil he’d left with her to pay off his debt. “Knowin’ how much store you put by ’em, I couldn’t bring meself to sell ’em,” she told him. “’Specially with me being right sure you’d be acomin’ back. Best of luck to ye, now.” Depositing the books on top of his other effects, she’d pushed him toward the door.

  The sense of awe and excitement he experienced upon crossing the threshold of his new home recurred as Martin, with a deference Teagan thought almost excessive, ushered him into the suite of rooms Lady Charlotte had allotted him. The bedchamber with its Chippendale mahogany furnishings was nearly as grand as Valeria’s chamber at Winterpark, and the attached sitting room offered a pair of comfortable leather armchairs and a study desk flanked by bookcases, as well as a large window overlooking the back garden.

  Martin informed him that, though the late Lord Darnell’s valet had already obtained another position, Martin had a nephew who’d just finished his training as a gentleman’s gentleman, whom Martin would be happy to recommend to Mr. Fitzwilliams.

  The situation was so reminiscent of Nichols at Winterpark that Teagan had to smother a grin. Informing Martin he would consider it, he dismissed the butler.

  His grin returned as he gave the elegant bedchamber a slower inspection. The only thing that would make this long-delayed homecoming sweeter, he decided, would be if he could look forward to sharing that large canopied bed with Valeria tonight.

  Bittersweet longing dimmed his excitement. What would she be doing at this moment? Riding out to meet her tenants? Sitting in the estate office consulting with Mr. Parker? Clipping herbs in the kitchen garden with Mercy?

  Missing him, as he was missing her?

  He’d just, with another silent thanks to the loyal Mrs. Smith, arranged his meager collection of books on the bare shelves of the nearest bookcase when a tap sounded on the door, followed by the entrance of Lady Charlotte.

  She stopped in the center of the chamber and gestured around. “You like the rooms, I hope?”

  He walked over to kiss the hand she offered. “They are splendid, Aunt Charlotte. Indeed, they seem to have cast upon me such a reflection
of glory that, since the moment I entered them, Martin has been practically begging me to allow him to be of service.”

  Lady Charlotte laughed. “As well he might. They are the master’s rooms, after all.”

  His teasing smile faded as the significance of her gesture penetrated. “Aunt Charlotte, are you sure—”

  “Hush,” she said, putting a finger to his lips. “I wished you to have them. After the part Darnell played in keeping you away so long, it only seemed fitting, somehow. But I really came to see if I might steal you away for a time. Rather than writing a reply, one of the gentlemen to whom I directed a note has called in person. He’s been a particular friend for years, so I’m delighted he is eager to meet with you. He’s waiting below, if you can forgo your settling in long enough to receive him.”

  Teagan’s heartbeat quickened. This, now, was the second test he must pass—convincing a man of sense and breeding that he could fulfill the requirements of whatever position the gentleman wished to offer him.

  “Of course. I shall be right down.”

  “Excellent. I’ll tell him you are coming and wait with him below.” After a slight hesitation, as if uncertain how he would receive such a familiarity, she leaned up to kiss his cheek.

  Teagan watched her walk out, then lifted a hand to his face, warmed by her lips. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d received a kiss of affection completely devoid of carnal overtones. It felt odd—and strangely comforting.

  So startled had he been by her gesture, he’d neglected to ask the name of the gentleman awaiting him. Well, no matter. Aunt Charlotte would introduce them soon enough.

  Taking a deep breath, he strode back to the bedchamber to check his reflection in the pier glass, making sure his cravat was neatly tied, and brushing a nonexistent bit of lint off the dark blue lapels of his coat.

  He must be polite, respectful, not too charming. Make a favorable impression and appear to be a credit to his aunt. Uneasily, he wondered just how much the unknown gentleman knew of him and his reputation.

  Then, shoulders back and spine ramrod straight, he walked down to meet Lady Charlotte’s friend.

  Quietly he entered the room where his aunt sat beside her guest, a gentleman whose back looked vaguely familiar. Two steps later Teagan halted in surprise. “Lord Riverton!”

  The gentleman turned to him, ironic amusement in his gaze. “Mr. Fitzwilliams.”

  His aunt looked from one man to the other. “I see there’s no need for introductions. I shall leave you two to converse, then. You will return for dinner, my lord?”

  “I should be delighted, Lady Charlotte.”

  Lord Riverton stood and bowed as Lady Charlotte, giving Teagan a quick wink of encouragement, walked out.

  “Won’t you sit, Fitzwilliams? Although I suppose it is presumptuous of me to invite you to be seated in your own drawing room.” Riverton raised an eyebrow. “My compliments. You are more resourceful than I’d thought.”

  Not sure whether Riverton’s comment was sincere or mocking, Teagan replied, “It is Lady Charlotte’s drawing room, my lord. I am but her guest.”

  “And her kinsman as well, are you not?”

  Teagan nodded. “Lady Charlotte, out of affection for my late mother, has agreed to help me obtain a responsible position. Do you…have such a post to offer me?”

  “Actually, I’ve had a post in mind for you for some time. Please, sit, and let us discuss it.”

  Teagan took the chair indicated, spirits quickening at the inference that his next goal might be within reach. He liked and respected Riverton, and whatever the earl had to offer, he’d do his utmost to satisfy his requirements.

  “By the way, that stallion of yours is doing well. A bit of a handful when he’s fresh, but quite a sweet goer.”

  “Then you’ve removed him from Montford’s care. Thank you for that, my lord.”

  Riverton nodded. “As I mentioned, I’ve been observing you for quite some time. Were you aware of it?”

  “N-not exactly, my lord. I did notice you seemed to turn up in locations I would not normally have expected you. And assisted me on several occasions, as well.”

  Riverton chuckled. “Crandall’s doxy fair at the hunting box. An…interesting affair, to be sure. You occupy a rather unique position, Fitzwilliams. Though of the gentry, your need to survive after Oxford forced you to mingle with, and develop a broad acquaintance among, the lower orders. I could use a man with such contacts.”

  “In what way, my lord?”

  “Actually, I’ve already approached you about it. Through an intermediary, of course.” Riverton fell silent, watching Teagan’s face.

  Teagan scanned his memory, trying to recall a time at which he’d been contacted by anyone on a matter of employment. Then the connection slammed home and he whipped his glance to Riverton.

  “That night in the stable after I lost everything to Montford—you were the one who sent the soldier?” he demanded, incredulity mingling with horror.

  “Yes. But before you draw your pistol, let me assure you that I represent the opposite of what you are now presuming. The world knows me to be a member of the privy council. But only a few—including your aunt, whose late husband previously occupied this post—know that I also hold a hidden portfolio to investigate and pursue men who attempt to subvert the interests of our nation.”

  “You are…a spy?”

  “I prefer to view myself as a protector of the liberties and privileges all Englishmen enjoy. I’m assisted in that aim by a number of men at all levels of society, in and out of government. Such as Sergeant Wilkerson, who approached you that night.”

  “Then why—” Teagan began, but Riverton waved him to silence.

  “I shall explain. You were quite justified in assuming, by the manner in which the job was presented to you, that what you were being offered that night was a treasonous assignment. Particularly after that episode with your cousin, I was reasonably sure what caliber of man you are. But before I could ask you to assist me, I needed to be absolutely convinced of your honor. Given the straits to which you were reduced, I knew if you would not stoop to betrayal then, you were incapable of it.”

  Teagan sat back in his chair, trying to sort out all the revelations. “I…I’m a bit taken aback.”

  Riverton laughed softly. “As well you might be. I’d known for some time you must be a man of intelligence. You’d not have survived solely by gaming otherwise. It remained only to determine if the caliber of your character matched that of your wits. Now that I am convinced it does…would you be interested in assisting me?”

  A covert fighter protecting English society against treason and corruption. Teagan grinned. Quite an extraordinary position for a half-breed Irishman.

  “What would you have me do?”

  “Actually, the assignment offered that night was genuine—if the opposite of what you were led to infer. I’ve been watching a minor government official whom, lamentably, we believe is selling copies of secret documents to the French. We know dispatches are being sent from his home to Dover. We need to know the identity of the person or persons who are receiving them and carrying them to France.”

  “And I would determine that, under guise of being the runner paid to transport the packets?”

  “Yes. We want a full description of the recipient, plus any information you can glean on where he comes from, whether he carries the messages to France personally or turns them over to a different agent, and by what means the messages themselves leave England. Information that might be gleaned from conversation and observation by a gambler flush with a new stake, while he plied his luck at cards in a Dover tavern.”

  Riverton paused. “I would be remiss if I did not warn that ’tis dangerous work, Fitzwilliams. With the financial rewards so great and the consequences of discovery so dire, men would kill to protect their investments and cover up their involvement.”

  “’Tis not that part that troubles me, my lord.” Teagan frowned, his exci
tement dimmed. “If I understand you correctly, in the job you envision I would continue to play the Jester? A man living by his wits and the roll of the dice? ’Tis precisely that life I wish to escape.”

  “I think we might be able to accommodate both our aims. You want to be readmitted to the Polite World. For that, only two things are essential—the correct backing, and money.” Riverton gave him a sardonic smile. “Though it pains me to admit how shallow our privileged world can be, once it becomes known you have Lady Charlotte’s support, and once you begin spending the funds I will make available to you, I believe you will find Society pleased to accord you a very warm welcome back!”

  Teagan took a moment to absorb the import of Riverton’s words. “Even if I appeared still to spend my life gaming, among company of rather dubious reputation?”

  Riverton shrugged. “I offer you Lord Crandall, Westerley, and any number of similar fribbles.”

  Teagan laughed without humor. “Point taken. You are sure I would be of more use to you as the Jester than, say, as a respectable secretary or assistant?”

  “You would be of nearly irreplaceable value in such a role. Men who can move easily—and when need be, invisibly—among all levels of society are extremely rare. You would be performing an invaluable service for me—and your country. A service that would have to remain unacknowledged, of course. But there would be a handsome monetary reward, quite enough to support rumors of newly acquired wealth. So…will you assist me?”

  Teagan sat silent, considering. He would be restored to Society, have an income that forever freed him from fear of want. But…in the eyes of everyone, he would still be the irresponsible Teagan Fitzwilliams, gambler and rogue. Not the responsible man with a respectable position beside whom Valeria could stand with honor.

  “I trust the lady will have you, anyway.”