“I am a fool,” he
said to the dog, who looked at him sympathetically with his liquid brown eyes,
but did not seem inclined to contradict him.
The marquess sat
back in his chair and gazed into the fire, his fingers gently tousling the
dog’s ears. “I will have to visit Lady Morgan tomorrow and tell her my true
identity,” he said. “It would not do for someone else to discover this
masquerade and embarrass her, and Francis would not be happy if I continued on
this path.”
Foxer yawned and
Phillip chuckled. “You think I’ve made a hash of this, and you are right,” he
said. “She will understand though, will she not? Now that she knows me so well,
she will not mind if the acquaintance is continued. I have no intention of
being anything more than a friend to her, of course.”
The dog sighed and
put his head on his paws. The marquess sighed as well and downed his brandy.
The next morning
the marquess arose unusually early and spent considerable time pondering his
next step. Should he visit Lady Morgan dressed as Mr. Markham or as the
Marquess of Eynsford? To appear on her doorstep as the marquess would make the
explanation of the matter easier; he would no longer be able to dissemble and a
confession would be forced upon him. But this might make Lady Morgan
uncomfortable, he reasoned. It would be better, perhaps, to appear as Mr.
Markham and to break the news gently. She might be more likely to still see him
as her friend, for his appearance would remain familiar, while the marquess
would necessarily be a surprising and possibly forbidding figure.
Lord Eynsford
summoned Boothby, who had long since become inured to dressing his master in
the hated solicitor’s suit. He did so now with the frozen mien he always
adopted when forced to undertake this distasteful task, and the marquess soon
emerged in the part of Mr. Markham. Eynsford reflected that he would miss the
solicitor; he had come to be rather comfortable in the role, and had enjoyed
the strange sense of freedom that it had provided him. While Mr. Markham did
not, of course, have the wealth and power of the marquess, he also did not have
the attention of others fixed on his every move, and Mr. Markham had been able
to befriend Lady Morgan where the marquess had been rejected.
Chisholm accepted
his master’s appearance stoically, and sat silently as they drove to
Kensington. Eynsford was too involved with his own thoughts to converse; he was
wondering how exactly to broach the fact that he was a peer of the realm and an
arbiter of fashion, and not a solicitor at all. “Pardon me, Lady Morgan, but I
have been deceiving you as to my identity,” hardly seemed a promising opening,
and “I beg to inform you that I am the Marquess of Eynsford,” was scarcely
better. He sighed. Chisholm gave him a sharp glance. So all was not well with
the lovely gentlewoman? Well, his lordship could not say Chisholm had not
warned him. The groom stared straight ahead, enjoying that certain glow that
being proved right brings.
Letitia rose that
morning feeling quite well. She had hopes that she would not see Dr. Wolfe
again for several days, and her resolution of the afternoon before to go out
into public more and meet more people still seemed well-advised. She wrote a
short note to Isobel, describing the events that had followed her visit of the
previous afternoon. Letty made it clear that, despite her consternation, she
was able to find these amusing, and informed Isobel that she would be delighted
to come to dinner at any time Isobel chose. “You may even,” she added, “invite
others, including the dreaded Lord Eynsford.”
Letitia then
repaired to the sitting room, where she set to work arranging the flowers
Nellie had purchased at the market that morning. When Lord Eynsford was ushered
into the room by she presented a charming picture, her fair head bent over a
grouping of lilies, her delicate white hands placing them just so, a look of
concentration on her lovely face.
“Mr. Markham,” the
maid announced, and Letitia raised her head, surprise in her eyes. Mr. Markham
had not previously called on her at home; all her encounters with him had
occurred in the park.
“My lady,” he said
with a bow. “I must apologize for intruding upon you.”
Letitia deserted
her flowers and came forward, a smile on her face. “I am very happy to see you,
Mr. Markham,” she said. “There is no need to apologize.”
“I am aware that we
have never been introduced formally and that my visiting you is not entirely
proper,” he ventured, “but I wished to apologize if I made you uncomfortable
yesterday. It was not well done of me to behave so rudely to Dr. Wolfe.”
Letitia attempted
to look stern, but an irrepressible smile peeped out. “If I were at all fond of
Dr. Wolfe I might be upset with you,” she said. “But I must admit that I find
him very tiresome.”
An answering smile
broke on Phillip’s face. He had thought that Lady Morgan did not like the
bishop, and Lord Exencour had confirmed the suspicion, but he was glad to hear
it from her own lips. He did not care for the idea of someone as delicate and
gentle as Lady Morgan subjected to the company of the insensitive Dr. Wolfe. She
deserved far better, he thought.
“I am glad you did
not take offense,” he said. “I know it is not my place to interfere in your
affairs.”
“Dr. Wolfe’s manner
would be enough to make many people behave far worse than you did,” observed
Letitia. “I can only say that I was not offended, and I was even grateful that
you interceded for me.” She gave another laugh. “He, however, is another story.
I am afraid that he found your behavior disgraceful.”
“Did he indeed?”
asked the marquess.
“Oh yes,” said
Letitia naively. “He said that no solicitor he knew would ever behave so to
him.” She paused. “I should not be repeating our conversation to you, but I do
find him so annoying that it is difficult to resist.”
“You are betraying
no confidences, I think,” said Eynsford. “He made it quite plain what he
thought of me, after all.”
Letitia giggled. “He
did, didn’t he? He looked as though he would pop! To be so appalled because I
converse with a solicitor! Perhaps he should be grateful you are inappropriate;
then I will not be tainted by associating with you!”
Phillip smiled. Lady
Morgan looked so lovely with laughter lighting her eyes that his breath was
quite taken away. He realized that this might be the best moment for him to
broach the subject of his occupation. Their conversation had provided an
opening, and in this merry mood she might be less distressed by the disclosure.
He opened his mouth to speak.
“Of course,”
continued Letitia, who had returned to her contemplation of the lilies, “I am
very happy that you are indeed a solicitor. For if you were a gentleman I could
in no wise trust you. I positively believe that they are, all of them,
deceitful wretches.”
Phillip closed his
mouth. “It cannot be possible that they are all untrustworthy,” he protested.
“I was speaking in
jest,” replied Letitia. “But I think I truly mean it. My friend Lady Exencour
was used to rail again gentlemen and their ways, and I always attempted to
temper her feelings. Now I find I share them. Except for her husband, my
experiences with the men I am supposed to admire and respect have been
excessively disappointing. I cannot abide their way of thinking they know best
and keeping secrets from me.”
Eynsford was
silent. The conversation had taken a sudden turn that made any admission of his
own deceitfulness unlikely to be received with approval.
“Have I shocked
you?” asked Letitia. “I do not mean to sound so fierce. It is not that I
dislike all men. I am very fond of Lord Exencour and you have proven a good
friend to me. But the two of you have been honest with me, and that is
something I prize.”
“Honesty is, of
course, very important,” agreed Phillip. “But are there not times when it is
necessary to conceal information?”
“I will not say
that I cannot conceive of such a circumstance,” allowed Letitia. “But I do not think
it honorable, and I would not care to be involved in such a situation. I have
been so before and it was not pleasant. Even though I am a woman, I deserve to
be treated with respect.”
“Naturally you do,”
agreed Eynsford. “I hope that your experiences will improve in the future.”
“But why am I
haranguing you?” asked Letitia. “I have no cause to imagine you are deceiving
me. You are my very trustworthy friend, and I thank you for that. Now, Mr.
Markham, tell me what you think of my flowers. I find them quite lovely, what
do you think?”
Phillip turned to
contemplation of the flowers, and managed to give them enough attention that
Lady Morgan was satisfied. He realized to his dismay that it would be
impossible to inform Lady Morgan of his true identity today without causing her
great distress; indeed, he wondered if he would ever be able to tell her and
retain her friendship. Her past experiences had made her not only distrust
gentlemen of her own class, but also abhor secretiveness. Untangling the
problems he had caused by his deception would require further consideration. Surely
there was some way to make her see he had meant no harm by his actions.
Eynsford stayed a
few minutes more, but soon took his leave, fearing that Isobel or another
acquaintance of Lady Morgan’s might come to visit and recognize him. As he
bowed over Letitia’s hand he reflected ruefully that he was well served for his
haughtiness. Here was a woman who wanted nothing to do with the Marquess of
Eynsford, but was happy to befriend a solicitor named Mr. Markham. The thought
should be sufficiently humbling.
The return to
Mayfair was uneventful, outside of Chisholm’s observation that the horses
should be able to get to Kensington and back without direction, a pleasantry
that the marquess met with a cold stare and silence. The groom, not at all
discomposed, grinned and looked straight ahead.
Upon returning to
his house, Lord Eynsford repaired to his library to write a very proper note to
Lady Exencour, informing her that his solicitor knew of Mr. Markham and assured
him of that gentleman’s good reputation. “I am sure that Lady Morgan will come
to no harm from him,” he ended the letter, “and you may be assured that she is
being treated with proper respect.” He sealed the note with a rueful smile at
what Lord Exencour’s reaction might be to the missive, and dispatched it with a
footman.
Isobel was
delighted to receive Letitia’s note; she had started to wonder if her friend
would ever regain an interest in Society, and was pleased to think of this as
the first step in restoring Letitia to the world to which she belonged. It was
all very well, Isobel felt, for Letitia to immure herself in Kensington and
befriend solicitors while she was in mourning, but it would not do for her to
continue on this path. She should take her place in the world and overcome her
aversion to gentlemen of fashion.
Isobel, like many
another happily married woman, was determined that her friend should know the
same joys she did, and she felt that Letitia was especially deserving of them,
having suffered so miserably at the hands of Lord Morgan. Although she thought
of Lord Eynsford as the perfect husband for Letitia, she was willing to allow
that there were other suitable gentlemen available; the only difficulty was
getting Letitia to meet them. She sat at her desk, Letty’s note in her hand,
pondering this dilemma.
It would not do, of
course, for Letty to be gadding about London, but surely now that Alfred had
been dead more than six months it would be possible for her to make the
occasional public appearance. Isobel’s face brightened. She had the perfect
solution. She sent to the stables for her carriage and, changed her frivolous
morning dress for a delightful afternoon dress of a blue silk, with a deep
figured ruffle at the bottom. The weather being unseasonably chilly, she wore
over it a long pelisse of white silk twill, with lapels and trim of a dark rose
shade. It sported quite six inches of dark green knot work above the pink trim
at the hem, and off center buttons from the high waist to the hem. Along with
this staggeringly elegant ensemble, Isobel carried a paisley shawl in matching
hues and wore a deep poke bonnet.
After the brief
carriage ride she swept into Letty’s sitting room to find that lady half asleep
on the couch, a book in her lax fingers.
“Goodness, Letty,”
she said, “Only see what living in Kensington has led you to! Napping in the
middle of the day like...like a dowager!”
“But I am a
dowager,” observed Letty complacently. “Or at least a widow, which is very
nearly the same thing.”
“You certainly
don’t look like one,” said Isobel promptly. “What a fetching dress, my love. Did
you make that yourself? I wish I had your skill with the needle; but of course
dear Madame Celine would be heart-broken were I to suddenly start stitching my
own gowns.”
“Whenever would you
find the time?” asked Letitia teasingly. “As a widow I have little else to do
but sew and nap and read, but you are the busiest woman I know. And your skills
are so redoubtable that it does me good to know there is one area in which you
cannot challenge me.”
“Pish,” said
Isobel. “You certainly have nothing to be ashamed of. How have you been
spending your time outside of napping and entertaining bishops?”
“I have done very
little else,” said Letitia. “And I find napping infinitely preferable to
visiting with Dr. Wolfe. Only fancy, Mr. Markham called this morning to
apologize if his “rudeness” to the bishop had offended me. I told him I find
him to be by far the greater gentleman.”
Mr. Markham called?”
asked Isobel.
“Yes,” replied
Letitia. “Do not look so severe. He only came to apologize and indeed seemed
rather uncomfortable. I am aware that our friendship seems odd to you, Isobel,
but I do promise you that it is completely innocent.”
“You have no need
to make promises to me,” said Isobel. “I know that you would not choose a
friend unwisely and I am sure that Mr. Markham is a wonderful fellow. But I am
happy that you wish to go out more; despite your solicitor’s excellent
qualities, I am sure there are other men whose company you would enjoy.”
Letitia laughed at
this speech. “Very pretty, Isobel. Have you arranged a second coming out ball
for me? Shall I wear pink and dance with all the most eligible men?”
“Now you are making
fun of me,” said Isobel with a smile. “And I daresay I deserve it. But Letitia,
I have had an excellent idea. Three nights from now, as I am sure I have told
you a hundred times, the Strancasters host a splendid ball. It is very near the
end of the Season, and this shall be the last great entertainment - all of
Society will be there. I would be so happy if you could come!”
“A ball?” said
Letitia. “I do not think that would be appropriate, Isobel. I am in mourning,
and Alfred has not been dead a year. If I were to go to a concert that might be
acceptable, but I think a ball would be considered terribly fast.”
“I have thought of
that too, Letitia. But it is not as though you will be going to countless
balls; this is the last great party of the Season and then you will promptly go
back into retirement. All the world knows how very circumspect you have been;
why, no one has heard of you since Alfred’s death except Francis and me. I know
countless widows of shorter duration than you who go about a great deal more. People
are positively talking because you are never seen!”
“You are doing it a
bit brown, Isobel,” laughed Letitia. “Are you actually trying to convince me
that my proper observation of mourning customs is causing gossip?”
“Perhaps not
gossip, but certainly comment,” persisted Isobel. “I believe it would do you a
great deal of good to get out and see some new faces, and I do not believe that
Society would judge you harshly, especially when you are known to everybody as
a very good friend of mine. Your presence at my ball would not be thought at
all unusual.”
“You are very
persuasive,” said Letitia. “But when I proposed that I should go out more I
meant that perhaps I would come to dinner or accompany you to the theater. I
did not mean that I would attend a large social gathering.”
“It would not only
do you good, but it would also give me great pleasure,” said Isobel. “I do so
hate thinking of you sitting here alone while I am out dancing each evening. I
know that you are not as eager as I am to be out and about, but I remember very
well a time when you adored parties. Surely you are lonesome sometimes?”
Letitia sighed, and
reflected that without Mr. Markham, her days would probably have been far
lonelier. “Certainly I am. When Alfred first died I did not want to see anybody
at all, but now the shock is wearing off and I am feeling more myself. But that
does not mean I should be attending balls.” She bit her lip. “Though it does
sound very tempting,” she added.
Isobel gave a
little crow of triumph. “You see, you do want to come,” she said. “And there is
no reason why you should not. Of course you will not dance, and you shall have
to sit with the dowagers and discuss their grandchildren with them, but it will
be so lovely for me to have you present. It is such a joy to me to have someone
there I can speak honestly to!”
“Dare I?” asked
Letitia, her eyes lighting up. “I had thought I was immune to
tonnish
activities, but you make it sound very enticing. I could even support the
dowagers, I believe. Only think how shocked Dr. Wolfe would be, to find me
abandoning myself to frivolity.”
“That is all the
more reason to come, Letitia. If he is shocked perhaps he will leave you alone.
For he may be there, you know; cards were sent to vast numbers of people.”
“Then we shall
throw caution to the winds,” said Letitia. “If there is the least chance that I
can drive away Dr. Wolfe by attending your ball, then I must immediately seize
the opportunity. I see now that my presence is positively necessary.”
“Indeed it is,”
said Isobel. “It will alleviate my boredom as well, you know.”
“Then I shall come,”
decided Letitia. “No doubt many people will be shocked, but I daresay I can
weather their disapproval.”
“I am so pleased,”
exclaimed Isobel. “I shall send a carriage for you. It has been too long since
I have had anyone but Francis to share my sense of the ridiculous with on such
an occasion!”
Isobel, her task
accomplished, soon departed, as she had much to tend to before the following
evening. Letitia sat some moments, contemplating her proposed return to
Society. She felt a certain nervousness, for there would doubtless be many
people only too happy to make cutting remarks at her presence, but she also
acknowledged a sense of rising excitement. The entertainment would be very
grand, the company most elegant and the press of people great. Perhaps she
would even encounter Lord Eynsford; she had little doubt that Isobel was still
eager for their meeting, though the marquess seemed far less interesting to her
than Mr. Markham.
Letitia gave a
start. She had only three days hours to somehow find in her slender wardrobe an
ensemble of suitable elegance, and her stock of evening dresses in half
mourning colors was not large. Ringing for her maid, she fled to her dressing
room.
Isobel returned
home, greatly pleased with the results of her visit to Kensington. She
encountered her husband upon entering the house, and gave him a kiss.
“You will be so
pleased, Francis,” she said. “I have coaxed Letitia to join us at the
Strancaster ball.”
One of Lord
Exencour’s eyebrows shot up. “She will be attending the ball?” he asked.
“Is it not
delightful?” said Isobel. “It took some doing, but it was not as hard as it
might have been, for I believe she is rather bored and longs for some
diversion.”
“That will be very
pleasant,” said Lord Exencour. “It is good for Letitia to begin re-entering
society.”
“That is precisely
what I told her,” said Isobel. “And, Francis, perhaps she can meet Eynsford. I
know you think me very amusing, but I imagine that they would find each other
much to their liking.”
“They may indeed,”
said Lord Exencour, “but not at this time. Phillip conveyed his regrets, but
the Regent has requested his presence at Carlton House that evening, and you
know that he may not say ‘no’ to Prinny.”
“How vexing,” said
Isobel. “I was sure that this would be ideal. And now the Regent must cause
problems. It is too bad of him.”
“Prinny, while not
the most considerate of men, was certainly not thinking of annoying you when he
summoned Eynsford,” observed Lord Exencour. “There will be many other
opportunities for him to meet Letitia.”
“You are right, of
course,” said Isobel, “but I cannot help being frustrated. I have been trying
to introduce the two of them for months, and now that Letitia is agreeable, the
Regent, of all people must interfere! I know I owe him respect, but I find it
very hard to like him.”
“He can be very
interesting and charming and he can be extremely tedious,” said Lord Exencour.
“I suppose he knew of our party and spared me, so I may still attend to my
wife. Does that make you like him any better?”
“Nothing will
change my opinion of Prinny,” Isobel laughed, “but I like you very much,
indeed,” she continued, as she turned to him, reaching up to pull his head down
to hers.
Francis lifted his
mouth from hers a few moments later and looked down into her languorous eyes. “It’s
a bit early to be dressing for dinner, but perhaps we could go upstairs now
anyway,” he murmured.