by Cheryl Bolen
She thought again of Godwin, and her hands curled into fists. Once more he had let her down. She strode angrily from the hallway, forcing her irritation onto Lord Wycliff. Even if he had soiled his noble hands making a fortune, Lord Wycliff was still born to the title, still confident he could swagger into his old home, make an exorbitant offer and once again possess the town house for which he held such an affinity.
She called for Williams. "You must put the chairs back as they were before the meeting," she told the butler.
"As you say, madam. A pity you must forever be telling me how to perform my duties. I should know that without having to be told."
Louisa looked kindly at him. "In time you will learn, my dear Mr. Williams. Remember, just a few months ago you were a gentleman's valet. You've learned much about being a butler, but it takes time."
With a mahogany chair in each hand, he strode across the room and replaced them at either side of the game table. "It's grateful I am that you've given me a chance."
"It is I," she reassured, "who is fortunate. You were a fine valet to Mr. Phillips, and you'll be an excellent replacement for Banbury, may God rest his soul." A sickening feeling surged through her. Surely Godwin had made provisions for Williams.
By the time she had instructed Williams in the drawing room, Louisa heard Lord Wycliff and his cousin coming down the stairs, and she hurried to greet them.
From the hollow expression in Lord Wycliff's dark eyes, she knew his search had yielded nothing but disappointment. "Any luck, my lord?"
"Unfortunately, no." He met her gaze, and she was taken aback by the grief she saw in his eyes.
"If I learn anything about the painting," she offered, "I will contact you."
He looked down at her. And she grew uncomfortable. The dark lord was exceedingly handsome. She had put away dreams of handsome lords when she abandoned dolls, already having been pledged to a well-to-do man who was older than her father. And in the nine years since, her eyes had never appreciatively swept across the figure of a good-looking man. Of course, she’s had no opportunity to do so — and of course, she loathed men.
With his sun-burnished face and well defined muscles, Lord Wycliff seemed out of place in a cut-away coat, freshly pressed cravat with silken vest, and pantaloons. She could imagine his muscled torso and generous shoulders rippling beneath the fine lawn of an unadorned shirt as he lunged booted feet and swished his saber in the defense of damsels. She could even picture him hammering at a blacksmith’s anvil, sweat sheening his strong-boned face. Yet, despite the power and blatant masculinity he exuded, there was also touching tenderness.
"That would be most considerate of you," he said as he walked to the front door.
She wanted to do something that could balm the man's hurt. She almost offered the name of the solicitor, but that she refused to do.
After all, Lord Wycliff was an aristocrat.
* * *
The cousins settled in the carriage, then Edward turned to Harry. "I say, Mrs. Phillips could not have been much more than a babe when she wed that vile Godwin Phillips."
"I daresay you're correct." Harry spoke with no emotion, his thoughts low.
"Did you not think the widow's good looks rather extraordinary?" Edward asked.
Harry thought of the slim young woman who was such a paradox. Barely more than a girl, she bespoke the determination of a well seasoned dowager. "I did. A pity she's a bluestocking."
"I thought you admired women who had a head on their shoulders."
“True, but there must be a compromise between stupid women and the bloody do-gooder bluestockings."
"Think I'd rather have a slow-witted wife," Edward said.
Harry’s dark eyes sparkled. “But I thought the idea of marriage was repugnant to you.”
“So it is. Never saw a girl more dazzling than a set of perfectly matched bays.”
A smile crept across Harry’s face. "Tomorrow, my dear cousin, we shall call on Mrs. Phillips for enlightenment."
Edward shot him a questioning glance.
Chapter 2
Louisa beamed at her younger sister, her eyes glistening. When she had last beheld her eight years ago, the ten-year-old Ellie had been all legs with uneven teeth too big for her dainty face. Now her legs were in perfect proportion to her woman's body. Her hair -- once the same pale blond as Louisa's -- was now the color of summer hay. Still lightly freckled, Ellie's face had grown into her teeth—teeth that were now smooth edged, pleasantly even, and bright white. She had blossomed into a lovely young woman, Louisa thought with pride.
Though Louisa had successfully guided her sister, through her letters, in most matters of taste, she had failed to dissuade Ellie from wearing utterly feminine clothing. While her sister's frilly pink dress was perfectly acceptable, it was far too fussy for Louisa's taste.
"I cannot tell you how very good it is to see you," Louisa said, taking her sister's slim hand within her own. "Why, you're as tall as I am!" She divested herself of her bonnet and moved into the foyer. "But very selfish I'd be to have you sit and chat with me when I know you must be weary from the journey."
"Not at all!" Ellie protested. "'Tis wonderfully good to be safe with you." She began to stroll carelessly throughout the first floor, unconsciously studying the opulent displays of wealth. "I declare, I had not a minute's peace during the whole of the trip. I kept remembering Miss Grimm's warnings about all the men having designs on my virtue."
Her older sister suppressed a chuckle. "You mustn't take Miss Grimm's advice too seriously, my pet." Taking her sister's hand again, Louisa led her to the drawing room and rang for tea.
"How blessed it will be to have tea in your lovely home." Ellie's gaze traveled the length of her sister. "London has been good to you. You're as lovely as when you left Kerseymeade."
Louisa shrugged and sat across from Ellie in a French chair upholstered in silk damask.
"I've missed you so," Ellie continued. "Why did you never return to Chewton Manor? Not even at Yuletide?"
Louisa's lips thinned, her eyes flashing. "You know what I told Papa when I left. I shall never forgive him."
"And you'll never again speak to him?"
Her eyes were cold. "Never."
"I must say, I, too, was glad to leave. I only hope London is not as wicked as Miss Grimm says for I shall never set foot out your door."
"I assure you, you'll be quite safe with me." Louisa's voice softened. "Oh, Ellie, I have lived for the day you would turn eighteen and I could have you with me." Her gaze traveled to the window. "I vowed eight years ago I would get you away before he sold you, too."
"So, here I am," Ellie said, spreading her arms like an opera singer. "Shall I really get to meet Mr. Bentham?"
"Most assuredly," Louisa said.
"Papa would have apoplexy if he knew the contents of our letters, of our admiration for Mr. Bentham and the free thinkers."
Louisa's eyes twinkled, and she let out a little laugh. "Especially if he knew his eldest daughter was actually Philip Lewis."
"I must confess, Louisa, I did not at all like your last essay in the Edinburgh Review, though I have decidedly agreed with all your previous writing."
"The one against marriage?"
Ellie nodded as Louisa poured tea into two dainty porcelain cups and handed one to Ellie. "Just as one apple does not spoil the whole bunch, I think your bad marriage should not poison you completely against matrimony."
"It's not just my own unsatisfactory marriage," Louisa defended, "but the system. Classes marrying within classes. Women forced into matrimony--"
"But you advocated free love!" Ellie shrieked. "Have you actually taken lovers?"
That hard look came back on Louisa's face when she shook her head. "I have yet to meet the man upon whom I could freely bestow so intimate an offering."
Folding her arms, Ellie shot her sister a reproachful look. "I believe you dislike men."
Louisa bit her lip and did not respond for a momen
t. "I will own my only experiences with men -- with Papa and with Godwin -- have not shown their sex in a favorable manner. I do not believe there is such a thing as an honorable man."
A dreamy look came over Ellie's face. "I believe I shall find an honorable man."
A faint knock sounded at the door, then it opened. "Lord Wycliff to see you, madam," Williams said.
"Ask him to join us here."
* * *
A moment later Harry and his cousin filed into the sunlit room. Harry's eyes flashed over the room before settling on the beautiful widow.
She met his gaze. "Lord Wycliff, I should like to make you known to my sister, Ellie Sinclair. She’s only just arrived from Warwickshire." The beautiful widow paused and looked at Edward. “And this, my dear Ellie, is Lord Wycliff’s cousin. Pray, sir, I remember not your name.”
He smiled appreciatively at the lovely little sister. “Edward Coke, at your service.”
Harry decided to be his most charming self, moving to the girl's chair and taking her hand while not removing his eyes from hers. "May I hope your journey was pleasant?"
Color rose up the girl's pale, lightly freckled cheeks. "Yes very," she answered in a shaky voice.
Never to be outdone by his cousin, Edward marched up to the maiden, likewise taking her hand into his and pressing his lips to it. "I would be honored, Miss Sinclair, if you would allow my cousin and me to show you the sights of London."
Ellie's gaze darted to Louisa.
"Pray, please be seated," Mrs. Phillips coolly instructed her guests. "Allow me to ring for more cups so you can partake of tea with us."
The cousins sat on a silk brocade sofa. "No need," Harry replied. "We won't be here long." He needed Louisa Phillips as he had needed his daily bread eight years earlier. Only through her would he learn who now owned the house he cared for as some men care for a woman. And only through her would he reclaim the portrait of his mother. He must not fail. "You may wonder why I'm here," he said to Mrs. Phillips.
Her brows arched, but she said nothing.
"I have been unable to shake your words from my thoughts. I spent the whole night troubled over the injustices of our society, and I have come to you for help directing me on the path to enlightenment." His Tory father would most certainly be spinning in his grave were his only child to start promulgating civil liberties.
He watched her anxiously, wondering if he had achieved his aim. He detected a slight softening in her expression, a glow in her spectacular blue eyes.
"What our movement needs, Lord Wycliff, is men like yourself -- men who are in Parliament -- who have the authority to do something about the deplorable conditions of our fellow countrymen."
"Then I shall be at your disposal, Mrs. Phillips, though I have never sat in Parliament. If I can ever reclaim Wycliff House, I will reclaim my father’s seat in the House of Lords. I do know many lords and would be able to speak on behalf of the great masses if you could but guide me. I read the Edinburgh Review, but would like you to guide me in reading Jeremy Bentham’s work."
Miss Sinclair straightened, her face alive, her flashing eyes darting toward her elder sister. "Oh, do you know Mr. Philip Lewis?" the girl asked.
"Of course," Harry answered. "That is, I've never met the chap, but I've read all of his works."
"And what do you think of him?" Mrs. Phillips asked warily.
"No question, the man is brilliant -- if a bit too mean spirited at times," Harry said.
Louisa's brows lifted. "How so?"
"Take his latest piece--"
"The one where he blasts the practice of marriage?" a now eager Edward asked.
Harry's face was grim. "The very one. While I'm not a religious man, I found it far too radical, undermining the sacred foundation of our society. Without family and commitment to family, man would be no better than animals."
"Then you're of the opinion sex, love, and marriage go hand in hand, my lord?" Mrs. Phillips challenged.
"In an ideal society, yes. And is not an ideal society what you seek most heartily, Mrs. Phillips?"
Louisa swallowed. "Yes, of course it is."
Harry got to his feet. "Enough serious talk for now." He glanced at Ellie. "I am sure Miss Sinclair would enjoy seeing the pleasures of London, and it is my fondest hope to be able to show them to her." He directed his attention to Ellie Sinclair. "Is there something you have particularly been wanting to see?"
The girl cast a quick glance at her sister, then back to Harry. "Oh, yes! I should ever so much wish to see the British Museum."
"Upon my word," Edward said, "'tis the most utterly fascinating thing I've ever beheld. Whenever it would be convenient for you, I would be honored to escort you there. I am at your service, Miss Sinclair." The young man effected a bow.
"Oh, Louisa, could we please go today?" Ellie asked.
"I'm sure the gentlemen must have other plans this afternoon."
Harry stepped toward Mrs. Phillips and held her in his gaze. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure than escorting two such lovely ladies to the museum."
* * *
The foursome rode to Bloomsbury in Lord Wycliff's sumptuous carriage. For reasons Louisa was unable to understand, Mr. Coke sat next to Ellie while the earl sat next to her. She could not remember any time in her life when she had sat beside a man who was not her father or her husband. She had especially not sat beside such a handsome man before. Of course, Louisa was not interested in men. She did not even like them.
As they came upon the museum, the earl slapped his head. "How stupid of me not to have remembered! They're demolishing Montegue House to make way for the fine new museum which will be built on the site."
Louisa peered from the window and was saddened over the demolition. She'd always loved Montague House.
"I know it's not as novel as the museum," Lord Wycliff said, "but a drive through Hyde Park would be somewhat interesting – and I could introduce you to some Members of Parliament." This he addressed to Louisa, who agreed.
As they rode along, the cousins frequently shot each other amused glances over Ellie's queries. She was most eager to see a thief since her governess, Miss Grimm, had told her they could be found on every corner in London. Mr. Coke even began to tease her good naturedly.
Louisa was glad that his lordship had not sat next to Ellie, for she had observed an uneasiness in Ellie when the earl talked to her sister. With the younger Mr. Coke, though, Ellie was relaxed -- even mildly flirtatious.
It must be the age, Louisa thought with irony. How anyone could prefer the insipid cousin over the earl she could not understand. If one were given to frippery like admiring appearances, anyone would have to admit the earl was far more handsome, more manly. She looked into her lap, willing herself not to think about his unsettling presence beside her, but she found her eyes riveted to his muscled legs, perfectly parallel to her own, yet so much longer.
For the second time in as many days, Louisa was struck by the impression that he was as out of place in frock coat and fine coach as a fish from water.
Unsettling, too, was the earl's sudden interest in the less fortunate. Just yesterday he was throwing around his wealth, vowing to reclaim Wycliff House, one of the finest homes in London. How could a man change so in just one day?
Harry turned to Louisa. "I believe your sister harbors many unfounded fears."
"How perceptive you are," she said facetiously.
She suddenly felt very shabby in her dark gray serge. For the first time in years, she actually desired to wear fine clothing, to look lovely. She told herself that then she would be in a better position to make a good impression on the lords who enacted laws. Her desire to look attractive had nothing whatsoever to do with the man sitting beside her.
By the time his carriage had reached Mayfair, she said, "I am hardly dressed for the grand promenade. I shouldn't wish to embarrass you, my lord."
"It would never be embarrassing to be seen with one as lovely as you."
&nb
sp; She went unaccountably mushy inside and could not meet his lordship's probing gaze. "You're very gallant."
"Not at all. Only honest."
She swallowed. "Perhaps tomorrow we could go to the park with you. Then Ellie and I could dress more suitably -- that is, if it would not interfere with your plans."
"I have no plans that do not include you and your charming sister," Lord Wycliff said.
Chapter 3
Mrs. Phillips's perceptions about appropriate appearances had been bullseye correct, Harry admitted as they rode through Hyde Park the following afternoon, the men of his acquaintance fairly throwing themselves in his path while clamoring for an introduction to his lovely companion. Such popularity probably would have eluded her in the drab clothes she had worn the day before.
When he had called for her, Harry had nearly lost his breath when he gazed up the marble staircase to see the extraordinary blonde gracefully moving down the steps. Since she was still in mourning, she wore lavender, a thin muslin that draped over the gentle curves of her body. Stirred by powerful emotions, he was almost glad a woman once again inhabited Wycliff House.
Almost. He must not lose sight of his aim in befriending this unusual woman.
Louisa had to be well pleased with their outing today, Harry mused. Lord Seymour himself had chatted with her and invited her to a ball at his home Thursday night. A coup, indeed, since Lord Seymour's power in Parliament was legendary, despite that he proclaimed himself to be a Whig.
It was actually quite remarkable meeting him since a man as powerful as Seymour had no time for idle jaunts in the park. On this particular day, though, Seymour chose to flaunt his notoriety in an effort to introduce his niece to a variety of Eligibles.
