Letitia
sat on a spindle legged chair among the chaperones in the ballroom of
Strancaster House. She was feeling extremely doubtful about the propriety of
her presence at this, one of the grandest events of the Season. She wore a gown
of a heavy lavender silk, long sleeved and made up high in the neck with a
tiny, almost Elizabethan looking ruff of grey lace. Despite its modest design,
the dress did not detract from her astonishing beauty, for the silk clung to
her figure in heavy folds, and the ruff framed her perfect face, with its large
blue eyes, rosy lips, and white gold curls, tumbling from a headdress of
lavender, with silver ribbons threaded among them.
Isobel
was still at the head of the stairs with her mother-in-law, the Duchess of
Strancaster, greeting guests, as Letitia chatted with the other ladies who did
not dance. She was by far the youngest of the company, but she listened with
interest to their conversation of children and grandchildren, and was
astonished by the breadth and detail of gossip exchanged. She learned a great
deal more than she wished to know of the various scandals surrounding the
Carlton House set. The ladies seemed to know all the details of Byron’s
intrigues and his various
amours
, and the Regent’s iniquitous
expenditure of 130,000 pounds at his silversmith.
After a
time, Letitia looked towards to the entrance of the ballroom, catching Isobel’s
eye, who indicated with a wave that she was on the verge of leaving her post,
as it was growing late enough that few additional guests were expected. At that
moment, however, a rustle of whispers swept the vast room, and it became
evident that the Regent had chosen to grace the Strancaster’s ball with his
august presence. All eyes were on the great doors, where the grossly fat Regent
and a group of gentlemen were greeting the duchess.
Letty’s
gaze swept the group rather derisively; Prinny’s set represented much of what
she had grown to despise most about gentlemen of
ton
. Then, with a
sickening feeling of horror, she found an all too familiar face among the crowd
of the Regent’s cronies. A tall and extremely handsome gentleman could be seen,
his head of curly, old gold hair standing out above the crowd. He was perfectly
dressed, his evening coat and knee breeches whispered of the restrained hand of
Weston, his cravat was a masterpiece, and the single sapphire winking among its
folds highlighted the dark blue eyes in which Letty was accustomed to find the
warm glow of friendship.
Tonight
however, a supercilious expression blanketed the gentleman’s regular features,
and a cold, hard light dwelt in the remarkable eyes. As she watched, the
gentleman raised his quizzing glass, viewing the festivities with a critical
mien. Eventually his uninterested gaze passed by her, and then returned
abruptly. A look of surprise and then horror, hastily suppressed, crossed the
handsome face; it was plain that the gentleman recognized her, and equally
clear that he was not pleased about it.
Letitia
looked away, stunned, her thoughts a mass of confusion. How could her friendly
Mr. Markham be among Prinny’s set? Why did he look at her so? His attentions to
her had seemed so disinterested, so friendly and kind. Most important, how
could the down-to-earth, ordinary, friend whom she valued so for his
commonsensical attitude and distaste for fashionable pastimes, be standing in
the ballroom of Strancaster House, casting every other gentleman in the room
into the shade with his appearance, and clearly on the best of terms with the Regent?
Letty
was horrified. When she looked back, the Regent’s party had left the doorway,
and was moving through the ballroom with the duchess and Isobel in tow.
Letty
looked down again, confusion engulfing her, as she fought to control her
emotions. She heard a little stir around her and looked up to see Isobel
approaching with Prinny and several gentlemen, among them Mr. Markham. Letty
rose and curtsied deeply, feeling completely shattered. She had turned quite
pale, and she noticed that Mr. Markham appeared to be slightly flushed.
The Regent
greeted her with great kindness. “A very sad business with your husband, Lady
Morgan, very disturbing indeed. We often had the pleasure of meeting him in
Brighton.”
Letty
murmured something in reply, she hardly knew what, or how to look at Mr.
Markham, who stood at the Regent’s side. He whispered to the prince, who smiled.
“To be sure, to be sure,” he said. “This gentleman desires me to present him to
you. Lady Morgan, the Marquess of Eynsford.”
Letty
felt an overwhelming sense of unreality as Mr. Markham bowed over her hand,
apparently masquerading as the Marquess of Eynsford, a Nonpareil of the
fashionable world.
“I had
the pleasure of dancing with you some seven years ago Lady Morgan, but I feared
you would not recall the occasion. However, it has been engraved upon my
memory,” this stranger remarked.
The
Regent smiled at the pretty sentiments, and moved off with the rest of his
party, observing to Isobel that Eynsford was the best of good fellows. Isobel
glanced back, having noted Letty’s carefully hidden distress when the Regent
had appeared, and wondered what had happened to overset Letitia so.
The
marquess seated himself next to Letty, as the tide of the party ebbed and
flowed about them. Letty knew not what to say, so she remained silent, feeling
that perhaps the gentleman should begin the conversation.
“Lady Morgan,
it is delightful to see you here. You are an ornament to the setting,” Eynsford
said. He fell silent, realizing that such absurd compliments could hardly begin
to fill the gulf between them. He tried again. “I suppose you must find it
rather odd to learn that I am not a solicitor.”
The
words fell hollowly, like stones in a well. Again, Letitia did not reply, but
the look of disappointment and distress on her face spoke eloquently of her
emotional turmoil.
“Lady
Morgan, I wished to become reacquainted with you, and you were so persistent in
your refusals to go about, or even to meet me as a guest in the Exencour’s home
that I despaired of an opportunity. When I learned of your direction in
Kensington, I chose to figure as a solicitor, knowing that I could not overcome
your dislike of gentlemen of fashion by any ordinary means.”
“And so
you chose deliberately to deceive me, Lord Eynsford,” exclaimed Letty in
trembling but hushed tones. “I would say that your actions have merely
confirmed the prejudices you mention.”
“My
intention was not to engage in a continuing fiction. At first I wished only to
dissipate the spell that the memory of a dance seven years ago had laid upon
me. Then when I met you again and found that you were still as beautiful, kind,
and charming as I recalled, I wanted to continue to enjoy your company, and
that artlessness which your ignorance of my title permitted,” Eynsford replied.
“It is
too bad of you, Lord Eynsford, to offer such an insult to one so lately
widowed, whose circumstances might be expected to protect her from such
behavior. I do not understand how you could have behaved so,” protested Letty.
Eynsford
had the grace to look ashamed. “I had no desire to insult you, ma’am, and while
I acknowledge the wrong I have done in deceiving you as to my name, I think you
must admit that it was an honest deception,” he said in his own defense.
“On the
contrary, this entire business has been an indecent charade, my lord!” she
hissed. “Our friendship has been based solely on a lie. I liked you and trusted
you. I thought that you at least were a friend on whose disinterested goodwill
I could rely.” Letty stopped, plainly struggling to hold back her tears. “Enough,
sir. I will not make of myself or you food for gossip by bursting into tears in
the Duke of Strancaster’s ballroom. You must leave me instantly, and do not
come again to Kensington Gardens, or call on me; I will not see you. There can
be none of that trust upon which friendship is based between us now. I wish you
a good evening.”
Letty
bowed her head to him frostily, and rose with grace from the settee. Composing
her features, she made her way to the antechamber which had been reserved for
the use of ladies who needed to make repairs to their gowns or coiffures, where
she covered her distress by pretending to attend to a tear in her petticoat
until her agitation had subsided sufficiently for her to return to the ballroom
without betraying herself.
Eynsford,
anxious to avoid creating talk, had risen when Letty did, and bowed as she
departed. He now walked across the ballroom to the windows, which had been
flung wide to cool the crowded rooms. Narrow, ornamental balconies graced them,
and he passed through the curtains into the evening air. His emotions were
confused. In fairness, he could not blame Letitia for her angry dismissal of
him. He recognized that he had acted abominably in deceiving her about his name
and station. His intentions, he reflected, however, had been honorable.
As this
thought crossed his mind, Eynsford's mental processes came to a sudden halt as
a stunning revelation took hold of him. An honorable intention with regard to
Lady Morgan could only mean that he expected to marry her. He had never
consciously considered this, he now realized, and yet, what other conclusion
could he have expected from his acquaintance with Lady Morgan? Though she had
no notion of it, when he considered his actions, he realized that they could
only be interpreted as a courtship, though of a most unusual sort. Letitia,
recently widowed, and viewing him in the light of a safe and friendly person,
who could have no designs upon her, was understandably ignorant of this. He,
however, was forced to recognize the lengths he went to in his pursuit of her.
Letitia's
beautiful face appeared before his mind's eye, and a wave of warmth and
affection flowed through him, along with a familiar desire to protect her from
the vicissitudes of life which fate had visited upon her. His plans to wed a
malleable schoolgirl vanished as though never considered, and a glorious future
in which he and Letitia oversaw a happy brood of remarkably attractive children
as they grew up at Milvercourt shone before him. The marquess smiled into the
darkness. The problem was easily resolved. He had only to visit Letitia, and
assure her of his desire to offer for her hand in marriage for all to be well.
Eynsford
remained lounging in the embrasure of the window for some moments longer,
savoring the well-being he felt. Presently, he reentered the ballroom, but he
did not seek out Lady Morgan. There could be no reason to distress her further
in public, and any particular attention he paid her might cause the gossip they
both disliked so much. Instead, refraining from dancing with any of the hopeful
misses whose mothers eyed him wistfully, he rejoined the Regent’s party. This
gentleman behaved most condescendingly by staying at the Strancaster’s ball for
quite an hour, and when he left, Eynsford departed also, to return home and
contemplate the joy that his visit to Lady Morgan’s house on the morrow would
engender.
Letitia
rejoined the party with a placid countenance covering a severe agitation of
spirit. She seated herself again with the dowagers, and tried to take the same
pleasure she had previously in their concerns and conversation, but to no
avail. She could not stop herself from fretting about her situation.
How
inappropriate her friendship with Mr. Markham now appeared to her! She blushed
furiously. How did her behavior look to him? A widow of only a few months allowing
a gentleman she barely knew to call on her, and exposing her worries and fears
to him. Letty’s distress was growing extreme when Isobel found a few moments
leisure to join her friend.
“Oh,
what a dreadful squeeze!” she exclaimed, dropping onto the settee next to
Letty. “I declare one can barely walk or dance for the press of people.”
“All
the world knows that is a requirement for a truly successful ball, Isobel,”
returned Letitia, attempting to smile. “The papers will declare it the event of
the Season, and no one will talk of anything else for at least three days.”
“You
were finally obliged to make the acquaintance of the
Marquess
of Eynsford,” observed Isobel with a sly smile. “Did you not find him
astonishingly handsome?”
“He is
very handsome indeed. But Isobel, it was not the first time that I met him,”
Letty answered with a shamefaced look that went unnoticed by Isobel.
“Well,
to be sure you danced with him seven years ago, and recollected him not, which
I can scarcely believe when one considers what an amazingly beautiful gentleman
he is, but that is of no account,” she said.
“Isobel,
you do not understand me,” countered Letty in hushed but anxious tones. “I am
very well acquainted with Eynsford, but I did not know him for a marquess. I
know him as Mr. Markham, a respectable solicitor.”
Isobel
stared at Letitia, completely agog. A moment or two passed as she struggled to
regain the power of speech.
“Eynsford
represented himself to you as a solicitor?” she inquired in shocked accents,
then looked around, making sure they were not overheard, and lowered her voice.
“Your mysterious friend is Eynsford? I can barely credit it, Letty. He must be
mad.” Isobel looked at Letitia again, and then continued slowly, “Or very, very
much in love.”
Letitia
ignored this speculation. “Isobel, I have behaved badly. I allowed myself to
converse on the friendliest terms with a gentleman of whom I knew nearly
nothing, and who was not properly introduced to me, and now I am well served. I
am so ashamed of myself that I do not know how to even think. I am quite sunk
by it. What must he think of me?”
“It
seems clear that he must think very well of you indeed, Letty, to go to such
trouble. Only fancy, Eynsford masquerading as a solicitor. It is really very
funny--or would be if only you did not find it so distressing,” she added
hastily, as Letitia appeared to be beyond finding humor in the situation. “Still,
it is a great deal too bad of him. He has really behaved shockingly to have
deceived you in such a way. I cannot like it.”
Isobel
clearly would have continued, but a large dowager in an imposing costume of
purple satin, with a headdress ornamented by several lofty plumes was forging
towards them, a severe look on her strong-featured face. Isobel glanced up at
her, and grimaced, then wiping the expression of dismay from her face, pinned a
sociable smile to it instead.
“Here
is the dowager Countess of Marford, come to tax me with some fault, no doubt. We
cannot speak freely of this now. I will visit you tomorrow afternoon, but I
probably cannot be there early, as I doubt I will be abed before six o’clock,”
she said.
Letty
blinked at her, still dazed, and Isobel patted her hand. “Do not be thinking
the whole time of your failings, Letty, you need feel no blame in this matter. And,
pray, do not think too harshly of Eynsford until you know why he has acted so
peculiarly. Ah, good evening, Lady Marford, I hope that you are finding
everything to your liking. How does your grandson go on? I believe that the
last time I saw you he was recovering from the chicken pox,” said Isobel,
rising with the skill of a veteran hostess to take the Countess’ arm,
deflecting her from her course towards the sofa on which Letitia still sat.
Letitia
left the ball very shortly thereafter, and Isobel watched her departure with
worried eyes, but could not abandon her social obligations to speak further
with her friend. Isobel realized later that she had probably behaved rather
oddly for the rest of the evening, for her thoughts were so much occupied by the
astonishing behavior of the Marquess of Eynsford, that she often had to ask
someone to repeat a remark, or answered a comment addressed to her quite at
random. Fortunately, such lapses could largely be accounted for by the crowds
and noise at the ball.
Eventually,
the last of the guests departed Strancaster house as the summer dawn was just
beginning to streak the eastern sky, and Lord and Lady Exencour were able to
prepare for bed. Isobel had just dismissed her dresser and sat at her dressing
table in a sea foam green lace wrapper, her auburn curls tumbling about her
shoulders. She was pondering the strange circumstances that Letty had related
to her, when the door from Francis’ dressing room opened and he emerged, clad
in a gorgeously printed silk dressing gown. Isobel felt the familiar rush of
desire that his attractive figure always engendered in her, and rose to receive
his embrace.
“An
excellent festivity, Isobel,” he remarked, holding her close. “I marvel at the
charming ends which are achieved when you bring the same degree of intelligence
to the planning of social occasions which you lavish on your archaeological
studies. The results were breathtaking.”
Isobel
smiled, but shook her head. “I thank you for the compliment, my love, but all
that is as nothing. You will scarcely credit what I have to say, but Letitia
has just told me the most astonishing thing. Eynsford has been visiting her,
disguised as a solicitor.” She gazed at Francis, awaiting his reaction.
“I
know,” he replied tranquilly.
“You
know? How could you know? Letty only found out this evening at the ball, when
Eynsford appeared with Prinny. Did Phillip tell you?” she asked.
“Why
no, my dear. I guessed,” Francis said mildly.
“You
knew that Eynsford was practicing such a deception upon poor Letty and you did
not tell me or her of it? I cannot believe it of you, Francis,” Isobel said
heatedly.
“Isobel,
it was you who first wished to promote a match between the two of them,” he
responded in a calm tone, which contrasted sharply with hers. “I felt that
unmasking him would do Phillip’s courtship no good, and possibly much ill.”
She was
silent for a few moments, considering this. “Do you believe that he is courting
her, Francis? When she told me of the situation, I own I could only think that
Eynsford must be very much in love to go to such lengths, and lower himself so
to pursue Letty.”
“I
don’t think that a courtship was Phillip's original intention. He had formed
the notion of marrying a chit straight from the schoolroom; a cold-blooded
plan, as I told him at the time. Letitia was then only a half remembered dream
that teased at him,” replied Francis thoughtfully.
“It is
of no great importance what his original intentions were,” said Isobel
abstractedly. “The important question is how are we to bring the matter to a
successful conclusion?”
“We are
not, my love. They must be left to their own devices. They succeeded in
becoming friends in the face of your inaction,
Isobel,
and I can only believe that two sensible adults must be capable of deciding if
they will suit without your assistance also.” Francis said this in a casual
tone, but Isobel knew from his expression that he earnestly hoped she would
remain aloof from the situation.
“Very
well, Francis, I take your point. I will not meddle uninvited. But Letty has
already shared her distress over Eynsford's behavior with me and I have told
her than I will call tomorrow to discuss what is to be done.”
“There
can be no harm in comforting your friend, and providing the benefit of your
advice, Isobel. But I don’t think either of us should attempt to promote the
match. There was a time when you would not have thanked Letty for trying to
make a match for you; you must respect her feelings now. Depend on it, if they
are meant to be wed, they will find a way, even if it takes Eynsford as long to
court Letty as it took me to persuade you.”
Isobel
had to laugh ruefully at this speech, for she had indeed resisted her lord
through three proposals and across the length and breadth of the kingdom. Francis
smiled down at her and stopped her laughter with an ardent kiss. Sweeping her
up in his arms he carried her to their shadowed bed, and Letitia's situation
was soon banished from her thoughts.