An Honest Deception (22 page)

As Letty and Isobel
conversed, the baron, the bishop and Lord Exencour were eyeing one another
uneasily in the sitting room.

“Did you have a
pleasant journey?” inquired the bishop of Lord Exencour.

Exencour raised his
quizzing glass and surveyed Dr. Wolfe. “Very pleasant,” he said. “There is
nothing I enjoy more than travel over dusty roads in the heat of the summer.”

Bainstall snorted.
“I appreciate your wife's concern for my cousin,” he said. “But there was no
need for you and Lady Exencour to disturb yourselves. Letitia’s situation is
now very comfortable and it is no longer necessary for you to be burdened with
her concerns.”

“I thank you for
the thought,” said Exencour graciously. “However, I find that Lady Morgan is no
charge upon me. I enjoy her company almost as much as my wife does and am happy
to do her any service I am able to perform.”

“What a pretty sentiment,”
said Bainstall. “But I believe that her husband will now be able to do that for
her.”

“Ah, yes,” said
Exencour, turning to the bishop with a smile. “I have not yet congratulated you
on your engagement, Dr. Wolfe. A very eligible match you have made.”

The bishop inflated
his chest slightly and bowed to Lord Exencour. “I thank you, my lord. I flatter
myself that Lady Morgan and I will deal well together. She is a good woman and
will make a suitable mother to my little girls, as I hope to be a strong father
to her poor children.”

“Indeed?” said
Francis. “I trust that you will succeed, and I admire your determination. As
fond as I am of Lady Morgan, I would not care to take on the task you have set
yourself.”

A faint look of
alarm crossed Dr. Wolfe's face. “Whatever do you mean by that, Lord Exencour?”
he asked.

“Um?” he responded
absently. Still garbed in riding attire, Francis was inspecting his
white-topped boots through his quizzing glass. “Tell me, Dr. Wolfe. Do you
detect a hint of bagginess about the ankle?”

The bishop glanced
testily at Exencour's boots. “Of course not,” he said. “Now tell me what you
meant by your comment about Lady Morgan.”

“I am not entirely
satisfied,” Francis murmured. He looked up to find Dr. Wolfe's anxious eye on
him. “Oh, nothing at all,” he said airily. “She is a lovely woman and I am sure
you will be able to curb her more fanciful tendencies. I myself am so indolent
that I would be hard pressed to do so, but you seem to be a man of great
energy.”

Bainstall joined
the conversation. “What is this nonsense, Exencour?” he asked sternly. “Letitia
is a good girl.”

“Oh, yes, the best
in the world,” agreed Lord Exencour. “Have I not been saying how fond I am of
her? Of course you, Bainstall, have seen little of her since she was a child
and I believe you have only recently encountered her stubborn streak. But I
daresay she will be much better for a new husband. That is always the way when
ladies are in love.”

Bainstall lapsed
into silence, but Dr. Wolfe did not wish to let the subject go.

“Surely you do not
mean to imply that Lady Morgan is headstrong?” he inquired.

“Oh, by no means!”
exclaimed Exencour. “Lady Morgan has a very gentle disposition. Of course, at
times, like all women, she needs to be handled with a delicate touch. A good
supply of laudanum will be important to you, and you will wish to remind your
housekeeper to keep it out of the view of the children, as the sight of it does
not necessarily set a good example.”

“Laudanum?” gasped
the bishop.

“It is important
that a nervous lady like Lady Morgan get sufficient sleep, in order to retain
her youthful looks,” observed Lord Exencour. “You would not deny her the
efficacy of a good night’s rest, I believe. Of course, when she has been
drinking champagne she sleeps very well and there is no need for laudanum.”

Dr. Wolfe looked at
Bainstall. “You did not mention this to me,” he complained.

“I am unaware that
Letitia drinks or takes laudanum,” said Bainstall. “I daresay Exencour is
mistaken.”

“Oh, no doubt!”
Francis exclaimed. “She was recently bereaved when she lived in my house, and
her nerves were quite shattered. That no doubt explains her habits.” Dr. Wolfe
and Bainstall looked only faintly relieved.

“Although,”
continued Exencour airily, “Isobel does say that her affection for champagne is
of long standing. I am afraid my dear wife has had some concerns for her friend
since she married Lord Morgan. His way of living was difficult for dear Lady
Morgan to support and I fear she may have turned to the bottle for comfort.”

He raised his
quizzing glass and viewed the surprised faces in front of him with
satisfaction. “Would Lady Morgan have some refreshments about?” he wondered
aloud. “I would greatly enjoy a glass of sherry.”

Bainstall cleared
his throat. “These insinuations are very unattractive, sir. I beg that you will
cease to impugn my cousin's good name.”

“I? Impugn Lady
Morgan's good name? My good fellow, I could not do that,” said Lord Exencour. “She
is Isobel's dearest friend and as such, she is mine as well. Isobel relies on
her quite entirely for her advice on clothing and matters of taste. One
additional merit of this match is that she will again be able to dress in the
manner suited to a lady of her station. Madame Celine will doubtless be
delighted to see Lady Morgan in her shop again, as she displays her clothing to
such advantage. In such a situation Madame Celine will doubtless supply her
clothes at a reduced cost as well, which will be a savings for you, Dr. Wolfe. I
daresay a ball gown costing two hundred pounds will be supplied to your wife
for only one hundred.”

“One hundred
pounds?” faltered the bishop.

“I see you are
delighted,” said Lord Exencour. “I, too, am pleased when Lady Exencour brings
home such a bargain. Indeed, when she has bought five or six gowns at two
hundred pounds, Madame Celine will sometimes give her one at no cost, which you
must agree is a great savings. Doubtless you will be happy to see your wife
treated in the same way. Lady Morgan has exquisite taste, you know, and always
chooses the most elegant attire.”

At this moment the
door opened and Letitia and Isobel re-entered the room. Letitia, who had been
dressed previously in a plain gray gown, now wore a very fetching walking dress
of lavender twilled silk made up high to the neck, but adorned with several
rows of ribbons about the hem and trimmed in the most attractive way across the
bosom and around the sleeves with knots of contrasting silver. Her cheeks were
flushed with color and her eyes sparkled with pleasure. The bishop turned stricken
eyes on his fiancée, but she did not have time to notice, for Isobel burst into
speech.

“We must beg your
pardon, gentlemen, but we have to go out for some minutes. We shall not be
long.”

Exencour looked at
them complacently, a faint smile on his lips.

“Wherever are you
going, Letitia?” asked Bainstall. “Need I remind you that your daughter is ill?”

“Oh, but she is
very much better and Violet is with her,” said Letitia. “We will be back
directly.”

“And where are you
going?” persisted Bainstall.

Letitia looked
alarmed at the question, but Isobel handily supplied an answer. “Letty has seen
a lovely bonnet which she thinks she must have to match this delightful dress I
brought her,” she said brightly. “I have promised to give my opinion. Do not
worry; we shall return shortly.”

With that they were
gone. Exencour turned back to the two gentlemen with a satisfied look on his
face. “You see, gentlemen?” he said. “Lady Morgan is quite herself again. Her
engagement to you seems to have returned her to her old spirits, Dr. Wolfe. I
congratulate you.”

Out in the street
the two women collapsed into giggles.

“Did you see my
poor Exencour?” asked Isobel. “What a brave fellow he is to sit alone with
those two sourpusses!”

“Brave indeed,”
agreed Letitia. “But then I must be a heroine, for over the past two weeks I
have spent many hours with them. I vow I was near to dying of the megrims when
you arrived. How could I have considered marrying Dr. Wolfe?”

“We all do odd
things when we feel abandoned, Letty,” said Isobel. “You must promise me that
you will never again turn to Bainstall when you might turn to me. You could
never be a burden.”

Letitia hugged her
friend, and then looked at her with anxious eyes. “I was quite certain I wished
to see Eynsford, but now I am nervous,” she said. “Are you sure he wishes my
presence?”

“For Eynsford to be
in Ramsgate at all he must be very anxious to see you,” said Isobel. “You can
be quite certain that it is not a place he would visit except under great
pressure.”

Letitia laughed
again. “I must say I find it hard to picture the gentleman I met at Lady
Strancaster's ball in Ramsgate! However, I have no trouble seeing Mr. Markham
here. That is the problem, Isobel. I find I cannot reconcile the two men
easily.”

“We will discuss it
as we walk,” said Isobel. “The inn is close at hand and I will not allow you to
run away now!” They turned their steps towards the center of town.

“You must realize,
Letty, that Lord Eynsford and Mr. Markham are not two different people, but
only one,” continued Isobel. “I admit that I too remarked upon the difference
between the private gentleman and the nonpareil when I first met him, but I
understand now that he has been so courted and fawned upon by the
ton
that he feels quite annoyed by their attentions and presents a cold public
front.”

“It sounds as
though he is dreadfully spoiled and rather selfish,” said Letitia. “One of the
many things I liked about Mr. Markham was his lack of artifice--what a strange
thing to say now, knowing the truth.”

“When Eynsford is
in the company of people he enjoys he is very relaxed and an extremely pleasant
companion,” said Isobel. “Because of Mr. Markham, you have been lucky enough to
know the real Eynsford, who is a delightful man. You have been in Society
enough to know how annoying it can be to be fawned over.”

“I do not believe I
was ever fawned over,” said Letitia judiciously. “Perhaps I would like that.”

“If you marry
Eynsford and become a marchioness, you will be,” said Isobel with a laugh. “Only
promise you will speak to poor Phillip with an open mind and I will be happy.”

“I confess that he
has been in my thoughts often,” said Letitia. “He was so solicitous during
Emily's illness; his notes and presents were as thoughtful as were yours, and a
great deal more helpful than Dr. Wolfe's!”

They had reached
the George, the charming seventeenth century inn at which the Exencours and
Eynsford were staying. Isobel hustled Letitia into her private parlor.

“Wait here and I
shall fetch Eynsford,” she said. “He will be delighted. Promise me Letty, that
you will not disappear while I am gone. This situation must be addressed now,
or you will doubtless lose your nerve and marry that horrid bishop of yours.”

“I am not so poor a
creature as that,” retorted Letitia, but when Isobel had gone she felt a great
wave of nervousness wash over her. Her knees felt unaccountably weak and she
sank into one of the large overstuffed chairs that graced the room. Her mind
returned to Kensington and the sun-filled days in the gardens with her handsome
lawyer. Then she saw the cold and haughty face of the Marquess of Eynsford as
he had appeared with the Regent at the Strancaster ball, and she felt a shiver.
Who exactly was this man, and why had she allowed Isobel to persuade her to
talk to him? Only a fool would put herself in the way of a man so intimidating.

The door opened and
Isobel stepped in, a merry smile on her face. She was followed by the marquess.
He was dressed with great style and restraint, in a dark blue coat of superfine
with pale beige pantaloons and Hessian boots bearing gold tassels. His
neckcloth was impeccably tied in the mail coach knot, and he sported only a
single gold fob at the waist. On his face, he wore a somewhat sheepish
expression. This was perhaps fortunate, for it permitted Letitia to see
something of Mr. Markham in him.

“I see you are
still here, Letty, and I am grateful,” said Isobel. “I have been lecturing poor
Eynsford once again on the evils of his behavior towards you, so he is now in a
suitably chastened frame of mind.”

Letitia found
herself quite unable to stand or say anything in response to Isobel's speech. The
marquess came over and gravely raised her hand to his lips.

“Thank you for
affording me the opportunity of this interview,” he said soberly. “I know I do
not deserve it.”

Letitia made some
vague murmuring sounds that Isobel seemed to interpret as being positive.

“The two of you
would, of course, like to be alone,” she said amiably. “It would not do at all
for you to talk here in a private room, but there would be nothing amiss if you
chose to stroll on the Promenade. I will await you here.”

With remarkable
efficiency Isobel ushered them out of the private parlor and into the street,
where the marquess found himself looking at the top of Lady Morgan's bowed
head.

“Lady Exencour is
nothing if not determined,” he observed. “I hope you do not mind walking with
me?”

“Not at all,” said
Letitia, so softly that he had to lean towards her to catch her words. This is
ridiculous, she thought. It is not as though this man is unknown to me. She
raised her head and spoke more clearly. “It will be pleasant to enjoy the fresh
air,” she continued. “I have not been out much of late.”

“You must allow me
to tell you how happy I am to hear of Miss Winwood's recovery,” said Phillip,
offering his arm and strolling slowly towards the Strand. “I am sure her
illness was very difficult for you.”

“It was indeed,”
said Letitia. “There were times I was terrified I would lose her. Your gifts of
fruit and flowers were greatly appreciated, my lord,” she said.

“I wish I could
have done more,” said Phillip. “I felt quite useless when Isobel read me your
letters.”

“Knowing that you
were concerned was a great help to us both,” she said. “Emily enjoyed the
beautiful blooms so much, and the fruit from your pinery still more, even
though she was frighteningly ill.”

They walked a
moment in companionable silence, and Letitia found that she was warming up to
the marquess. His next words, however, were not so soothing.

“I understand that
I have to congratulate you on your engagement to the Bishop of Mainwaring,” he
ventured in a neutral voice.

Letitia jumped and
looked up at him with startled eyes. Eynsford's face was carefully blank, with
nothing to be gleaned from studying it.

“I am indeed
engaged to that gentleman,” said Letitia cautiously.

“Would it be
impertinent for me to ask why his suit prospered when mine did not?” asked the
marquess.

Letty looked up at
him again. His face was grave, but she thought she detected a slight twinkle in
his eyes. This both pleased her, for it reminded her of Mr. Markham, and
angered her. How dare he laugh at her predicament?

“He was supportive
in the time of Emily's illness,” she said rather sharply. “And I have no doubt
that he is, indeed, the Bishop of Mainwaring.”

A short silence
fell. “I deserved that, I suppose,” said Phillip judiciously. “Do you feel
better now?”

“A little,” said
Letitia.

“I would have liked
to be near you during Emily's illness,” said Eynsford. “I thought about you
constantly; I am afraid I was a very poor guest to Lord Glencairn.”

“I do not doubt the
sincerity of your concern for my daughter,” admitted Letty.

“But you still
doubt the sincerity of my feelings for you?” asked Phillip.

“You must agree, my
lord, that your behavior was far from candid,” said Letitia. “Can I be blamed
for believing the worst, particularly when I found out who you actually are? The
Marquess of Eynsford’s renown is not based on his honest intentions towards
widows.”

“My wretched
reputation!” exclaimed Phillip. “You must realize that there is a great deal of
gossip about me, but that little of it is based in fact.”

“Then you are not
engaged to the Earl of Ravenscroft's second daughter?” asked Letitia artlessly.

“Certainly not,”
said Phillip firmly. “I danced with her twice as a favor to her father. That is
all there was to it.”

“And Lady Mowbry?”
continued Letitia.

“I have not seen
Lady Mowbry for many months. At one point in time we amused each other,” said
Eynsford. “That is no longer the case.”

“And all the talk
among the
ton
?” asked Letitia.

“Is just
that--talk,” said Phillip. “I am afraid my actions are of greater interest than
they should be to Society.”

“Then how could you
possibly put me in the position you did?” demanded Letitia. “Surely you knew
that if anyone found out my reputation would be ruined! A widow with small
children and no money cannot afford such a thing to happen. You have said you
care for me, yet you callously put me in jeopardy!”

Eynsford came to a
halt and stood looking down at Letitia. He gently took her hand in his. “Lady
Morgan, I can only plead that I was made quite stupid by my feelings for you. I
see now that my actions were foolhardy and that you, rather than I, would have
suffered their consequences. But at the time, all I could see was that you were
kind, warm-hearted, beautiful, and fascinating. My feelings overcame all my
notions of propriety. But I cannot regret it too greatly, for otherwise I might
not have come to know you as I do.”

“If you had waited
until I was out of mourning, sir, we might have met at any number of parties,”
observed Letitia tartly.

“But then you would
have met the haughty Marquess of Eynsford, and I would have met a widow just
re-entering Society, concerned about the tittle-tattle of the
ton
,” said
Phillip. “I might never have known you for the woman I came to so greatly
admire and esteem. And if I had courted you before the eyes of the world, the
gossip mongering and jealousy could have been more than enough to drive us
apart. I regret that my actions caused you distress, but I do not regret
knowing you better.”

This speech
evidently pleased Letitia, for she allowed the marquess to once more draw her
hand through his arm and lead her along the path.

“Am I correct in
thinking that your heart is not engaged by Dr. Wolfe?” asked Phillip bluntly.

“My heart is not
engaged,” admitted Letitia, “but I have given my word and my cousin, to whom I
owe much, greatly desires the marriage.”

“You would
sacrifice your own happiness to please Bainstall?” asked Phillip in surprise.

“Emily’s illness
impressed upon me that I am unable to truly provide for my children as I must,”
said Letitia. “I do not wish to be a burden upon my friends, and Dr. Wolfe is
an eligible gentleman with a kind heart.”

“But an unfortunate
manner,” said Phillip blandly.

Letitia attempted
to stifle a giggle, but it escaped her anyway. Eynsford looked down at her with
a smile on his face.

“So you find him
quite as ludicrous as I do,” he said.

Letitia looked up
at him, her eyes dancing. “Quite,” she said. “It is sad, but I cannot take him
seriously.”

“Then perhaps it
would be for the best if you did not marry him,” observed Phillip.

“Perhaps,” said
Letitia. “But if I break off the engagement my cousin will be enraged, and I
shall still be in the same bind I am now.”

“I think perhaps a
way could be found to circumvent your difficulties,” said Phillip. “If you were
to marry another gentleman, one as eligible as and perhaps less unctuous than
Dr. Wolfe, then your cousin could hardly complain, and you would be better
served.”

“And where can such
a gentleman be found?” asked Letitia. They had reached the strand, and she
stood looking out over the water, the gold curls that peeped out from her
bonnet shining under the hot sun.

Lord Eynsford put
his hands on her shoulders and turned her gently towards him. “I know you had
reason in the past to suspect my motivations,” he said softly, “but I hope I
have convinced you that I am sincere. My offer of marriage still stands, as I
told you before. I would be the happiest man in England if you would consent to
be my wife.”

Letitia looked up
into his piercing blue eyes and saw only sincerity. A smile rose to her lips,
but a perplexed expression remained in her eyes.

“My lord...” she
began.

“If you call me ‘my
lord’ one more time I shall do damage to something,” observed Phillip. “It is
quite intolerable on your lips.”

“What shall I call
you, then?” asked Letitia. “‘Mr. Markham’ is not a name designed to make me
think well of you.”

“You must call me
Phillip,” said Eynsford. “For that is what you would call me if we were wed.”

“Very
well...Phillip,” said Letitia. “I am not at all sure that I can marry you,
although I must admit I have strong feelings for you. Try as I might, you were
seldom out of my thoughts these past weeks.”

“Then you must
marry me, or your thoughts will not be your own,” observed Phillip.

“But I must be able
to trust my husband,” said Letitia fretfully.

“Letitia, you know
me as no one else does, and I think you also know you can trust me. Do you
truly believe that I would ever willingly hurt you?”

Letitia looked up
into his face once again and caught her breath. She realized in a sudden rush
that, no matter what deception had led to their friendship, he was the kind and
thoughtful man she had met in Kensington Gardens. He looked down into her
perfect face, and oblivious of the others in their vicinity, lowered his lips
to hers. Letty gave a little sob of happiness, and flung her arms around his
neck, returning his embrace eagerly. Eynsford was engulfed with passion as his
lips claimed hers, yet in such a public place they could not lose themselves in
their private joy. As one, they broke the kiss, and, slowly turning, once again
walked arm in arm.

“I wonder what Dr.
Wolfe will say?” Letty asked mischievously.

“He will no doubt
wish to bring a breach of contract suit against you,” remarked Phillip in an
amused voice. “How fortunate you are that your new suitor is so admirably
qualified to defend you from him, and that his natural inclination to curry
favor with those above him in the order of precedence will soon overcome his
irritation.”

Letty laughed with
him, and they turned their steps back in the direction of the George.