The Lady In Question

by Victoria Alexander

  “So glad I could be of assistance,” Delia said wryly.

  Cassie might indeed be right, although Delia had never thought so before now.

  The sisters were as alike in appearance as two peas in a pod, save that Delia favored her right hand and Cassie her left. Cassie had long believed it was the same for their temperaments and had always insisted the difference between them was no more than a matter of degree. Shading, if you will. She considered herself a bit more impulsive, outspoken and adventurous than her barely older sister, but only a bit. Delia rarely disagreed with this assessment aloud but privately thought it was a great deal more than a bit. She saw herself as far quieter, much more reserved and entirely more cautious than her sister.

  “Now, you may begin by telling me exactly when you met Wilmont.” Cassie settled back in her chair. “Go on.”

  “Very well.” Delia blew a resigned breath. “Do you remember Lady Stanley’s Christmas ball? How frightfully overcrowded and stuffy it was?”

  “It’s overcrowded and stuffy at every ball.”

  “It was particularly so that night. I felt the need for a breath of fresh air, so I slipped out to the terrace.”

  She’d since thought there must have been something in the air that crisp winter night, in the glow cast by the stars, in the promise of the spring to come. A promise of something new and unknown and exciting. Some kind of magic spell, perhaps, or more, something she had always yearned for but hadn’t recognized she’d wanted until that very moment.

  “And that’s when you met Wilmont?”

  “Yes.” Lord Wilmont. Baron Wilmont. Charles.

  “And?”

  “And…we exchanged pleasantries.” He’d appeared out of the shadows, almost as if he had been waiting just for her.

  “Pleasantries?”

  “One might call it something of a flirtation, I suppose.” He’d been outrageous. Totally improper and far and away too intimate. He’d taken off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Completely scandalous. And utterly, utterly charming.

  Cassie raised a brow. “Oh? And were you flirtatious in return?”

  “I might have been.” Delia shrugged offhandedly. She’d responded in kind that night with a confident, teasing demeanor not at all like her usual reserved nature. In the back of her mind, she’d wondered what on earth had possessed her, but enjoyed it nonetheless. “A bit, perhaps.”

  “I see.” Cassie considered her sister for a long moment. Delia resisted the urge to squirm in her seat. “And then what?”

  “Then?”

  “Yes, then. Unless you decided that very moment on the terrace at Lady Stanley’s that you would run off with him, there was obviously a then. When did you next see him?”

  “The next day. At a bookseller’s, Hatchard’s, I think.” He’d scarce acknowledged her acquaintance save to tip his hat and politely recommend a book of poetry, handing it to her as he left. Inside, she’d found a scrap of paper with his signature and the words until we meet again. Later, he’d given her the same book. “And again at Lady Concord-Smythe’s soiree…”

  Lord Wilmont, Charles, was not the type of man who was generally attracted to Miss Philadelphia Effington, which she could see now made him all the more attractive. His reputation as an irresponsible spendthrift and gambler rivaled only his reputation with women. Gossip had it that he had been the ruination of more than one young woman and no respectable lady should so much as favor him with a dance. His frequent absences from London for long periods during the last decade only fueled the rumors about him.

  Still, when Wilmont did deign to make an appearance, his impeccable family ties allowed him entree into the tight-knit and somewhat hypocritical world of London society. Of course, the ladies could not fail to notice that he was exceedingly handsome, with hair the color of spun gold, a wicked twinkle in his eye and a smile that told a woman it was for her and her alone. And the gentlemen were quite aware that regardless of whatever else he may be, he always paid his debts. In addition, he was possessed of a significant fortune and bore an old and honorable title, if perhaps a bit tarnished.

  As for his reputation, it was all rumor and innuendo. Why, Delia had never actually met anyone who had been ruined by the man. The stories she’d heard about him might well be little more than fabrications spun by those jealous of his appearance or his wealth or his name.

  Not knowing had made him all the more mysterious and dangerous and exciting.

  And he wanted her. From the moment they’d met, that simple fact had made her reckless and daring, entirely different from her usual nature. She’d reveled in the difference, in who she was with him and only with him, and reveled as well in the certain knowledge that this dangerous rake wanted her not because she was an excellent match but because she was very much a woman and he was every inch a man. It was the most intoxicating sensation she’d ever known. And completely irresistible.

  “And at Lady Bradbourne’s New Year’s ball, and…” Delia smiled weakly. “I met him quite a bit, actually.”

  “Good Lord.” Cassie sank back in her chair and stared. “I can’t believe no one noticed.”

  “You’d be amazed at how easy it is to slip away from a crowded ballroom to a secluded library or empty parlor.” Delia drummed her fingers nervously on the arm-rest of the sofa. This had been her secret and hers alone for so long, it was surprisingly awkward to reveal it now, even to Cassie, the one person Delia had never kept anything from.

  “Indeed I would. I suspect you can teach me a great deal, dear sister.” Grudging admiration shone in Cassie’s eyes.

  “This is surprisingly difficult to talk about.” Delia rose to her feet and paced the room, wringing her hands absently with every step. “I had thought, given the passage of time, that it would be easy to tell you, but I find I am not at all good at confession.”

  “It is good for the soul, they say,” Cassie said primly.

  “I doubt that. My soul doesn’t feel the least bit good. Only quite, quite foolish.”

  “Nonsense. Oh, not that it wasn’t foolish,” Cassie said quickly, “every bit of it, but you probably couldn’t help falling in love with the man.”

  Delia stopped and stared at her sister, her words coming before she could stop them. “Oh, but you see, I didn’t.”

  Cassie’s brows drew together in confusion. “But I thought —”

  “Oh, I know.” Delia waved her sister quiet. “I would have thought exactly the same thing: that someone in my position would have gotten in my position in the first place because she had quite fallen head over heels and therefore lost all sense of proper behavior. But it wasn’t like that at all.”

  “I’m afraid to ask precisely what it was like.”

  “It was…” Delia clasped her hands together and screwed up her courage. “Quite the most exciting thing I have ever imagined. The adventure I had always dreamed of.”

  “Adventure?”

  “I’m not certain how else to explain it.” Delia groped for the right words. “It was very much like riding a horse entirely too fast. You know it’s dangerous and will more than likely end badly, but it’s so exhilarating, you don’t really care.”

  Delia returned to perch on the edge of the sofa. “I know this makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, but Charles was not at all the kind of man who is usually interested in me. Even you must admit my suitors were inevitably somber in character, serious in demeanor and bent on the altogether critical quest of finding a suitable wife. And to a man they were one and all deadly dull.”

  “Well, yes, they were rather —”

  “Whereas gentlemen who seek your favors are typically dashing and exciting and often have an air of danger about them.”

  “I have never understood it myself.” Cassie shook her head. “We are both precisely the same in appearance —”

  “Yes, but there is something about you.” Delia studied her sister, trying to put her observations into words. “As much as staring at you is like s
taring at a mirror, there is a difference. In the look in your eye or the tilt of your smile, perhaps. Something that says you could be terribly improper given the slightest provocation.” She sighed and settled back on the sofa. “I obviously look like I would never so much as have an improper thought.”

  “Looks indeed can be quite deceiving, as I have never particularly done anything improper save speak my mind. However, you managed to make yourself the center of scandal.”

  “I did marry him.”

  “And everyone asked why. Good Lord, Delia, people wondered if Wilmont married you for the respectability of your family or your family’s money —”

  “Actually, his solicitor wrote me about that. I am apparently quite well off,” Delia murmured.

  “— or to save your honor. Of course, that would make him a much better man than anyone suspected and would make you…”

  Heat flashed up Delia’s face.

  “Delia?”

  Delia jumped up and crossed the room in a futile attempt to avoid the inevitable.

  “Philadelphia Effington!” Shock sounded in Cassie’s voice. “I can’t believe —”

  Delia whirled to face her sister. “Did I fail to mention the excitement of riding entirely too fast?”

  “You were speaking about a feeling! And blast it all, you were talking about a horse! At least, I thought you were talking about a horse.” Cassie stared, her eyes wide with shock. “You didn’t, Delia, I know you. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.”

  “I might have.” Delia pretended to study her fingernails. “Once.”

  For a moment silence hung in the room. Delia held her breath.

  “How?” Cassie asked at last.

  Delia’s gaze snapped to hers. “What do you mean, how?”

  “How did you manage it?” Cassie’s eyes narrowed. “Surely you didn’t take that little horseback ride —”

  “Cassie!”

  Cassie ignored her. “— in a library or an empty parlor.”

  “Of course not.” A touch of indignation sounded in Delia’s voice. “That would be most improper.”

  Cassie raised a disbelieving brow.

  Delia ignored her. “Do you remember the night I feigned illness and you and the rest of the family went off to whatever party it was you attended?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “I had a hired carriage waiting to take me here. To Charles’s house.”

  “Oh, nothing improper there.” Sarcasm colored Cassie’s words.

  Delia raised her hands in front of her in a helpless gesture. “And Charles insisted afterwards on marrying me.”

  “I see.” Cassie’s expression was annoyingly noncommittal.

  “And I do wish you wouldn’t refer to it as a horseback ride.” Delia drew her brows together. “It makes it all so…unseemly.”

  “And we wouldn’t want that.” Cassie got to her feet. “I was wrong, though. It was a good thing that he married you. Pity he had to get himself killed within the week.”

  “Yes, it was.” There was a familiar pang when Delia said the words. Of regret for what might have been and of guilt as well that he was gone and she hadn’t truly cared for him the way she’d always wished she would one day care for the man she married.

  “However” — Cassie put on her hat and adjusted it to the proper angle — “his death has been of some benefit.”

  “I scarcely see —”

  “Actually, you needn’t see, because I do.” Cassie pulled on her gloves in a slow and deliberate manner. “No one knows this was not a love match, indeed I didn’t know myself until a few minutes ago.” She pinned her sister with an accusing look. “Did I mention how lacking in anything of substance your letters were?”

  “You may have.”

  “I knew your return would renew discussion of the scandal, which had died down nicely, I might add. So, I am taking it upon myself to rectify the situation.”

  “What do you mean, rectify?” Delia said slowly.

  “Nothing much, really. A few carefully placed words here and there and the way the world sees this incident will change dramatically. You will no longer be the subject of scandal and curiosity, but sympathy.”

  “Cassie, what are you —”

  “It’s obvious you were swept off your feet by this rake and obvious as well that he felt the same. Why would a man with as unsavory a reputation as Wilmont’s marry you otherwise?” Smug satisfaction sounded in Cassie’s voice. “I wish I had thought of it months ago, but it didn’t occur to me until I learned you were on your way home.

  “You reformed this rake into becoming an honorable man, but before either of you could enjoy your newfound love, he was tragically killed. In your grief, you exiled yourself —”

  “The Lake District is not exile.”

  “— until you could once again face the world.”

  “That part, at least, is true, although it was embarrassment more than grief —”

  “Yes, but my version is perfect and too, too romantic. Tragedy combined with love is irresistible.”

  “I don’t think —”

  “It might even alleviate any speculation that Wilmont was leaving you, so soon after your marriage, which was why he was on the packet to France alone.”

  “That’s absurd,” Delia said staunchly. “Charles had pressing business interests in France and did not think it was appropriate for me to accompany him.” Delia hated to admit that she did not know her husband well enough to truly know if indeed what he had told her as to the purpose of his trip was true. Given his behavior after their marriage, she too had wondered if he was leaving her. Whatever the purpose of his trip, it cost him his life when the packet wrecked during a storm in the channel.

  “Regardless, my idea is brilliant and you may thank me for it later. It might even hasten Mother’s forgiveness. I daresay she would much rather be the mother of a tragic, bereaved widow who sacrificed all for love than the mother of a —”

  “Very well, then,” Delia said quickly. “I suppose it’s worth a try, at any rate.”

  Cassie flashed a grin. “I shall do more than try, dear sister, I shall rally the Effington women, except for Mother, of course, in a valiant effort to twist the flow of gossip to your advantage. I haven’t the least doubt of what we can accomplish.”

  For the first time in a long time Delia laughed. “It is indeed a formidable force.”

  The ladies of the Effington family were well known for strength of character and other qualities considered either sterling or troublesome depending on one’s point of view. They’d long understood the power wielded by their family had as much to do with the tenacity of its female members as its men.

  Cassie pulled on her gloves and started toward the door.

  “You’re not leaving, are you?” A sliver of panic shot through Delia. “You’ve scarcely been here any time at all and it’s so dreadfully lonely.”

  “I don’t want to, but,” Cassie sighed, “Mother is keeping a closer eye on me than usual. She firmly believes if she had been as watchful when it came to you, all of this would have been avoided.” She considered her sister for a moment. “You could come with me, you know. Father would welcome you and Mother can just as easily not speak to you at home as she can if you remain here.”

  “I should like that, but…” The idea was exceedingly tempting. To return home and pretend nothing had ever happened. But among all else she had realized during her months of relative solitude, she understood and accepted that her life had changed forever and no amount of pretense would undo what was done. Besides, she had the blood of generations of Effington women in her veins and it was past time she behaved with the courage that was her birthright. “I have chosen my path and now I must live with it.”

  “I knew you would say that; I would have been quite shocked if you hadn’t.” Cassie shook her head and smiled. “I must say I rather envy you.”

  “Why on earth would you envy me?”

  “As a widow you are no longer
subject to the limitations that govern my life. You may not realize it at the moment, dear sister, but you are free.”

  “Free?” Delia folded her arms over her chest. “I’d scarcely call the restrictions of mourning free. I have simply traded one set of rules for another.”

  “But there is an end in sight for you and then you may do precisely as you wish.” Cassie’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Perhaps I can find myself a wealthy rake to marry who will then conveniently die. Someone quite old, I think, barely tottering, to ensure I would become a widow as quickly as possible.”

  “Cassie!” Delia tried and failed to hold back a laugh.

  “It was just a thought and at least I have made you laugh.” Cassie gave her sister a quick hug. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to visit again, but I suspect I can manage to write and dispatch a servant to deliver my notes. Every day, if you wish.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Delia said with relief. “I feel quite isolated here. This house is not overly large, but it’s rather empty.”

  “Surely Wilmont had servants?”

  “Only a housekeeper, who also served as cook, and a butler, and they up and quit right after I was informed of Charles’s death. Father had this house closed up for me when I left. As for my own maid…you remember Martha?”

  Cassie nodded.

  “She met a farmer while we were gone and stayed to marry him when I returned to London, so I shall need to replace her. Did I tell you the house had been broken into while I was away?”

  Cassie gasped. “Good Lord.”

  “The thieves left quite a mess and, I confess, it was most unnerving. There wasn’t a single room left untouched. All the books in the library were torn from the shelves, every drawer pulled from every chest, furniture upended. The picture of chaos, really.”

  “Delia, are you certain you’re safe here?”

  Delia waved away the question. “Of course. Such things are bound to happen when a house is left empty for so long. Fortunately, the very day I returned, a new butler, sent by an employment service, I assume, arrived. I hired him at once, and he promptly hired a housekeeper and a footman. They have spent the last few days setting everything to rights while I have tried to determine if anything was taken.”