A Tip of the Cap (London League, Book 3)

by Rebecca Connolly

  “I should have been told.”

  “My lady, I have said before…”

  She suddenly put a hand on his thigh and gripped hard. “How long will you deny the connection between us, Monty?” she hissed.

  He pried her hand loose and returned it firmly to her lap. “My lady, I must protest! Such behavior is highly inappropriate.”

  “I could be more inappropriate,” she purred, turning to press herself up against his arm. “I would be so very inappropriate for you, Monty.”

  Malcolm shuddered and angled his chair a little away. “My lady, please…”

  “Say that again.”

  “Your husband is but three feet away!”

  “The old fool can’t hear us.”

  “People might see us!”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I insist that you behave with decorum, madam, and act in a manner befitting both our stations,” Malcolm hissed fiercely. Confound her blasted husband, he thought. The man must be deaf as a post!

  Lady Lavinia glared at him and turned her body, and her attention, back to the stage. She breathed more heavily than was necessary, attempting to draw more attention to certain personal assets she chose to display rather prominently. “I want you, Monty. And so help me, I will have you.”

  “I am married, madam.”

  “And I will make you want me more than that milksop wife of yours.”

  Monty clenched his teeth and purposely looked away, casting his eyes around to see if anyone was witnessing the woman’s scandalous behavior. Thankfully, no one was. “Have a care when speaking of my wife, Lady Lavinia.”

  “Have I offended you, Monty? How delicious!” she purred. She reached over and slid her hand down his thigh, then drummed her fingers there before moving her hand back to her own lap.

  Malcolm felt his skin crawl and shifted away from her as much as he could, given the limited space in the box. She sat silently beside him for the rest of the act, though she bore a smirk and continued to attempt to draw Malcolm’s attention. Her husband sat in front of them, as ignorant of her behavior as ever.

  The moment the act ended, Malcolm excused himself and fled for Lord Cartwright’s box a short way down the gallery. He didn’t wait to be announced as he brushed past the footman and snapped off a quick bow. “Please let me stay here with you for the second act, if I must remain, or let me leave altogether if you do not truly need me!”

  Lord Cartwright turned and took in the younger man’s distressed face with a benign smile. “Greetings, Monty.” He looked at his wife. “Darling, what do you think?”

  Lady Cartwright considered Malcolm with her clear eyes and smirked. “So long as Monty explains what in heaven’s name he is doing in London so soon after his wedding, he may do as he pleases, I think.” She glanced back at her husband and winked. “But you are his superior, my dear, so it is entirely up to you.”

  Cartwright nodded and observed Malcolm, the lines on his face belying the brilliant mind and limitless energy he still possessed. “Do as you please, Monty. We have business to attend to.” He waved him into a seat.

  Malcolm took it, greatly relieved, then tilted his head toward Lady Cartwright with surprise.

  She waved her hand dismissively. “I am not listening, and I wouldn’t understand even if I were.”

  He doubted that and suspected that Lady Cartwright had her own covert interests, but that was a discussion for another day. He turned to one of the most powerful men in England and inclined his head slightly.

  “What can I do for you, my lord?”

  Cartwright’s mouth quirked a little. “First things first… What the hell are you doing in London right now?”

  Chapter Eight

  "But will I have wings if I become a fairy?” Greer wondered.

  “Of course,” Jane declared matter-of-factly. “A proper fairy must have wings.”

  “What color will they be?”

  “What color would you like them to be?” Beth asked.

  “Pink!”

  “No, Greer, I want blue!”

  Beth laid her head back on the grass, smiling up at the clouds. “Girls, you can choose the colors of your wings, I promise.”

  “Really, Bitsy?” Jane asked, lifting her head and looking rather suspicious. “Any color?”

  Beth looked back at her stepdaughter, smiling at the nickname she had earned the other day through a rather entertaining game of make-believe. “Any color. Gold? Green? Gold and green?”

  Jane shook her head. “No. Blue.” She laid her head back down, the daisy crown sliding a little on her dark hair.

  Greer, on the other hand, was lying on the grass with her eyes fiercely screwed up as she anticipated her fairy transition. Her flower crown was perfectly placed, and her dark golden curls were already tangling with the stems.

  But they were out of the house, finished with the day’s lessons, and the girls were playing with Beth. This was heaven!

  The past two weeks without Malcolm had been surprisingly pleasant, despite the strain of her newfound responsibilities. Thanks to the diligence of the estate manager, Beth had managed to find the balance between duties of the countess and management of the house, as well as taking plenty of time for the children. Mrs. Rawlins had been her mentor in the house and staff, and it was easy to find her footing under such tutelage.

  Mrs. Franklin had helped her to understand the natures of each of the children, and between the pair of them, they had coaxed Archer and Jane out of their solemn shells. Jane was now as talkative as Greer, and Archer had laughed more in the past three days than he had in the last three years, according to Mrs. Franklin.

  Beth finally felt as though she had found her place in the family. They all called her Bitsy now, and she loved every utterance of it. The gleeful cry of ‘Bitsy’ was better than she had ever imagined ‘Mama’ sounding, and it made her heart swell.

  This part of her life was perfect. If only her husband were around to see it… or to see her… or his children. Or to do anything at all!

  She might as well have been the governess for all the interaction she had with him. If anyone had asked her how she enjoyed being married, she would have answered, “I really wouldn’t know, but I’ve heard it’s lovely.”

  But no one was asking. She was Lady Montgomery, but without Lord Montgomery, what did that actually mean? She could not introduce herself to the neighbors, even if it was proper enough to do so with the tenants. She didn’t know her husband well enough to say anything about him. She knew that his children hung somewhere between fear and adoration of him, as evidenced by her attempts to get them to write him letters the week before. They’d done it, but it had been a struggle.

  These children might not have a mother, according to Malcolm, but according to Beth, they also hadn’t much of a father. But no one was asking that, either.

  “Why is it that I find you sprawled on the grass becoming a fairy more often than not?”

  Beth laughed and opened her eyes to look up at her friend, and now neighbor. “Because I am determined to become a fairy.”

  Lily grinned and held out a hand. “I want a walk. Come with me?”

  Beth took it and rose, then turned to the girls. “You two keep working at it and listen to Mrs. Franklin. She’s just over there.”

  “Yes, Bitsy,” they both said, still focused on their transformation.

  She nodded and linked arms with Lily, moving away from the transformation site.

  “You seem to be getting on well with the girls,” Lily told her with a smile.

  Beth exhaled noisily. “Not for want of effort. Jane was so shy and formal with me. Greer was easy.”

  “Ah, but Greer turns four next month.”

  “Exactly.”

  Lily chuckled and turned a little to face her more fully. “What about the boys?”

  “Well,” Beth said on a sigh, “I must reenact the Battle of Agincourt with them later, for the fourth time in a week, if that tells you anythi
ng.”

  “On which side are you?” Lily asked, still laughing.

  “Naturally, I’m the French,” Beth assured her with a firm nod. “And I die quite a glorious death every time.”

  “I am sure you do.” Lily rubbed her hand soothingly. “How is it going? Really.”

  Lily and her husband had returned to their home at Rainford Park shortly after Monty had left for London, and she had become Beth’s chief confidante. She had seen Beth struggle to settle into her life during the past fortnight, trying to learn how to manage the children in their father’s absence when she hardly knew them.

  But there were things that Lily didn’t know, things she hadn’t seen, and questions Beth hadn’t asked.

  She didn’t know if she wanted to ask them.

  “The children are wonderful,” Beth finally said, pulling off her flower crown to pick at it. “I adore them, and they are finally opening up to me. Well, Archer is confiding in me, and he is afraid to attend Eton. We’ll address that later when Monty returns… if he returns.”

  “He’ll return,” Lily broke in. “Don’t worry there.”

  Beth ignored that. “Then, there’s Jane. She is wonderful with play time, she calls me Bitsy…”

  “Bitsy?” Lily laughed in surprise. “Why?”

  “I suggested it as my fairy name last week,” Beth told her, rolling her eyes. “It was Michael’s pet name for me as a child. Jane loved it and started using it all the time, and now the others do, too.”

  “That is absolutely adorable!”

  Beth grinned and sighed, looking around at the grounds they walked, loving the beauty she so enjoyed. “It is. She is. But I’m a playmate for her, Lily. Not an older sister, not the woman her father married, not…”

  “Her mother?” Lily prodded.

  “I’m not her mother,” Beth reminded her softly.

  “No, but you are all she has.” Lily sighed and folded her wrap around her more closely. “Jane was very close with her mother. She looks just like Caroline, you know, except for the eyes. Caroline’s eyes were dark, like Greer’s and Archer’s.”

  Beth nodded. “I’ve seen the portrait. She was a beautiful woman.”

  Lily suddenly smiled a sad, but fond smile. “She was. She was also unfailingly kind, generous, full of wit, lively…”

  “It’s a good thing I’m not at all insecure about filling her place,” Beth muttered dryly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Oh, please.” Lily snorted, tugging Beth against her side. “Caroline would scold you for even thinking that. She would want you to be your own person, not try to imitate her. I should know. I was her favorite cousin.”

  Beth looked at her speculatively. “What about your sisters?”

  Lily made a face. “She liked Rosalind well enough. She could barely tolerate Emma and Eloise. I was her favorite, she told me repeatedly.”

  “I may consult with Rosalind about that,” Beth teased, plucking at the petals on her crown.

  “My sister has enough on her plate, dodging the attentions of Captain Riverton when she really ought to be accepting them with open arms.” Lily shook her head, still smiling. “But that’s not the point.”

  “Oh? Do enlighten me, Lily. What is the point?” Beth asked, tilting her head back to enjoy the sun.

  “The point is… Caroline would have liked you.”

  Beth jerked in surprise and nearly tore a hole in her green muslin gown. “What did you say?”

  Lily smiled, her dark eyes crinkling slightly. “She would have liked you a great deal. And I think, if she’d had a say in the matter, she would have wanted Monty to marry someone exactly like you.”

  Beth considered her friend’s kind words but wasn’t sure she believed them. What woman would contemplate whom her husband ought to marry next unless she knew that she was dying? From what Beth had been told, Caroline’s death had been unexpected, so she had difficulty imagining her thinking about that.

  “She would have wanted Monty to move on,” Lily murmured, reading Beth’s thoughts. “Caroline knew him so well. They had been planning to marry for years before they actually got around to it. Then Monty inherited, so they actually could marry… But they were friends before anything else. She was always very proud of that.”

  “She ought to have been.” Really, Beth thought, it was a rare ideal for the world in which they lived. Monty and Caroline had enjoyed a marriage of romance and affection, the sort of match every young woman dreams of. To be friends first and to find love as well? It was a staggering thought, and one that Beth had not had for several years.

  It was simply too far-fetched for an adult to truly comprehend.

  And it made Beth feel even worse about her own marriage.

  “Caroline once told me,” Lily prattled on, “that it was the only way to truly have a marriage. To be friends first. To honestly and genuinely like the person that you marry, aside from all the love and romance and other details. Because if you don’t, she said, ‘when the fights come, and they will, how will you remember that you love him when you don’t even like him?’ ” Lily shook her head and sighed. “I wish I had listened to her.”

  Beth put her arm around Lily and pulled her closer. “You didn’t have a choice, Lily.”

  “But you did,” Lily pointed out, smiling at Beth despite the shadows in her eyes.

  “Please, don’t question my marriage as my parents did at our wedding,” Beth groaned. “It was the closest Monty has ever come to actually treating me like his wife.”

  “I wasn’t going to.” Lily pulled her friend to a stop and gave her a serious look. “I am relieved that you married him. I think you are exactly what he needs, and I think Caroline would think so, too.”

  “Well, we can’t very well ask her, now, can we?” Beth snapped defensively, looking away and folding her arms in agitation.

  Lily cocked her head, smiling mysteriously. “Actually…”

  Before Beth could ask anything, Lily took her arm and pulled her away, fairly trotting towards the front of the house and the lane towards the Knightsgate chapel.

  “I’m fairly certain I cannot pray to Caroline for insight,” Beth told Lily, panting a little with their rapid pace.

  Lily tossed a scolding look over her shoulder. “That wasn’t what I had in mind.”

  The chapel was in sight now, and Beth smiled at it fondly. It was a quiet church with glorious stained-glass windows. All their tenants attended, as well as a few of their neighbors. The children were not particularly fond of church services, but their clergyman helpfully understood the value of brevity in his remarks, despite his relative youth and enthusiasm for deity.

  Lily pulled Beth behind the chapel into the cemetery. “I wanted to bring you here,” Lily told her rather unnecessarily.

  Beth swallowed hard, not sure how she felt about this unusual introduction.

  Sure enough, Lily led her straight to a large headstone engraved with the name “Caroline Rose Colerain, Lady Montgomery” with the respective dates. Below it read, “Beloved wife, mother, and friend.”

  “I’m not sure I should be here,” Beth whispered, her eyes fixed on the etching. “It seems wrong.” She started to back away, shaking her head.

  Lily grabbed her hand and held her steady. “This is exactly where you should be. Who better for you to talk to than Caroline?”

  “Do you think she can hear me?” Beth asked, looking at her friend.

  “I think she would love to hear about her family,” Lily assured her, smiling at the headstone as if it were Caroline herself. “Where better to do so than here?”

  That was something to consider, Beth supposed. Here lay the woman who still owned her husband’s heart. Caroline had brought into the world the four children that were coming to mean more to Beth than she had thought was possible. No one Beth had ever known closely had passed away, so she had no experience with finding comfort in cemeteries. Nor had she thought sincerely about what happens to one’s soul afte
r death. But this was a beautiful piece of land, and the idea of keeping Caroline abreast of their husband and her children was comforting.

  “I can do that,” Beth heard herself say as a smile crossed her face. “I’d like to think Caroline and I can become friends, in a way. At least, she may know that I am taking care of her children.”

  “And her husband,” Lily added.

  Beth turned and raised a brow at her friend. “Our husband. I am now married to him, too.”

  Lily grinned at her apologetically. “Yes, of course you are.” She caught the crook of Beth’s elbow and turned back towards the house. “Let’s talk about that husband of yours.”

  Beth sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t know what to do about him, Lily. He told me this wasn’t a marriage of affection, but I didn’t expect it would be a marriage of distance, as well.”

  Their walk back was much more leisurely. Lily exhaled, shaking her head. “Monty is a reserved man, you already know that much, but after Caroline died, it became more pronounced.”

  Beth listened closely, desperate for any insight into her husband.

  “He is rarely at home anymore,” Lily went on, “though I don’t know what takes him away. He was away quite often even with Caroline, but it feels different now.”

  “His children need him, Lily,” Beth insisted, a breeze catching her hair.

  “I know they do.” Lily looked over at her with a crooked smile. “I suspect he does, too, which is why he married you. Monty is an insightful man who is probably more aware of his shortcomings than we realize.”

  That made Beth snort, not because she doubted Lily, but because she didn’t know her husband even well enough to be acquainted with his shortcomings.

  What sort of wife was she?

  “You are the sort of wife who has a marriage she doesn’t understand, yet,” Lily replied.

  Beth turned to her quickly, eyes wide. “Did I say that out loud?” She groaned and covered her eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Lily. I’ve been playing countess in this grand estate and playing stepmother to these children, and I don’t know what I’m doing in any of this. I don’t know what Monty wants me to do, or what he would do. I ask myself that every single day, and there are never any answers. I have written to him, obviously, but he has only sent a single missive. He hasn’t even responded to the children’s letters! Doesn’t he realize I need his guidance, his instruction, his intuition? And they need their father! I cannot let anyone know how muddled I feel.”