Read An Honest Deception Online

Authors: Alicia Quigley

Tags: #Nov. Rom

An Honest Deception (4 page)

Chapter 5

The others watched
silently as Bainstall stalked from the room with an air of dignified injury,
but as soon as the door closed behind him, Letitia began to laugh.

“I know I should
not be angry with him, when he means only to help me, but I cannot support his
interfering ways,” she said.

“Indeed no,” said
Isobel. “He is the veriest prig, and it was clear to me that he wished you to
live at Bainstall so you could act as an unpaid companion to his wife. I am
sorry that he is all the family you have and you cannot turn to others for aid.
You will have to consider Exencour and me to be your family now.”

“I already do,”
said Letitia. “I am always aware of the gratitude I owe you both.”

“Nonsense,” said
Lord Exencour. “Any debt you might owe us is washed away by the fact that we
would never have married without your help. Neither Isobel nor I are likely to
forget that.”

“Well, I must throw
myself on your generosity once again,” said Letitia. “I will gladly take you up
on your offer to help me find a house to rent in London. Most of my remaining
friends are there, and I think it the best solution for me at this time. It
will be some weeks before I can come, however; I must pack, see to the lease of
the estate and attempt to settle Alfred’s debts before I can do anything else.”

Lord Exencour
cleared his throat. “I believe that in the matter of settling Morgan’s debts,
this may be useful to you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of
bills. “Alfred’s man brought this to me yesterday, saying he found it stuffed
in a pair of his master’s breeches. He did not wish to approach you before the
funeral, so he gave it to me. I believe there are almost five hundred pounds
there, which should go a long way towards satisfying your more pressing
creditors.”

“I never thought I
would be grateful for Alfred’s gambling,” said Letty, taking the money. “But it
seems that his winnings will for once be put to some good purpose.” A
questioning look came over her face. “Is this really from his room? Or is this
perhaps your money that you are attempting to give me to meet my most pressing
needs? If that is so, Exencour, I cannot possibly accept this.”

“Nonsense, Letitia.
You speak as though I regularly carry about my person large sums of money to
give to impecunious widows. You may ask Morgan’s valet if you doubt me.”

Letitia colored. “I
did not mean to insult you, Exencour. I merely do not wish to be a greater
burden on you.”

“I am not insulted,
and you are not a burden,” said Lord Exencour. “I wish you would forget this
nonsensical idea that Isobel or I could wish to be rid of you. We both admire
your desire to support yourself, but you must allow us to help in any way we
can.”

Letitia smiled. “You
are right, Exencour. I accept your help gladly. Mr. Linkwall, if you would be
so good as to take this money and settle Lord Morgan’s more pressing debts, I
would be most grateful.”

Mr. Linkwall took
the money with a bow, and began to pack up his papers. “I will look into
leasing Morgan Park for a period of ten years, my lady,” he said. “That should
be sufficient time to alleviate the most pressing of the mortgages, and by that
time your son should be old enough to take an interest in his lands.”

“Thank you,” said
Letitia.

The lawyer bowed
and left, reflecting that Lady Morgan was fortunate to have friends on whom she
might rely. For his part, he thought she had best seek a rich husband; she was
very beautiful and still young, after all. But it was not his affair to meddle
in.

The Exencours and
Letitia were left alone in the library. Letitia arose from her chair and
strolled to the window, from which there was a view of the fields, now empty of
crops. It continued to rain, and the bleak landscape offered little in the way
of cheer.

“I will leave you
ladies now, and see if Lord Bainstall would like some company,” said Exencour.
“I am sure that he will read me a lecture on your manners, Isobel. You are a sore
trial to me.” He kissed his wife’s hand smilingly and left.

Isobel turned to
Letitia, who continued to gaze out the window. “I think you have a made a good
decision, Letty,” she said. “I know it will be hard for you, but at least you
should be able to retain the estate.”

Letitia sighed. “In
an odd way I will miss Morgan Park,” she said. “It is very isolated and I have
been unhappy here, but it has been my home and the place my children were born.
It will be very strange to live always in a large city like London.”

“But think of the
fun we will have, my dear. As soon as you are out of black gloves you will be
able to rejoin Society. It will be just as it was in our first Season together!
I will give a splendid party for you. Perhaps you will even meet another
gentleman, one who treats you as you deserve.”

Letitia shook her
head. “It all sounds very lovely, Isobel, but it is impossible. I have no money
to spend on fashionable fripperies, and I confess that the thought of parties
quite overwhelms me. Nor do I want to find another husband. Alfred and my
cousin seem to be fairly typical examples of English peers, and I do not find
them attractive.”

“But what of my
husband, poor Exencour?” asked Isobel. “Surely you do not classify him with
your Alfred and Bainstall?”

“Exencour is the
exception that proves the rule, Isobel. You have married the only good nobleman
in England!”

“You may be
forgiven for thinking so, as you have had very bad luck,” said Isobel. “I admit
that at one time I thought as you do now, yet you coaxed me to marry Francis. But
I am sure that there is another true gentleman in this world. When you are
lucky enough to find him, I will be cajoling you to wed him and I hope that you
will change your mind.”

“I plan to devote
myself to my children,” said Letitia firmly. Then she smiled. “That sounds
frightfully like a widow in a novel, does it not? Very well, I will see what
the future holds. But I really have no interest in a suitor who is the least
bit
tonnish
, Isobel; I am quite determined that if I marry again it will
be to a quiet gentleman who has no interest in the fashionable world.”

Chapter 6

The Marquess of
Eynsford viewed the assembly before him with a jaundiced eye. The rooms
overflowed with the cream of the ton; while Almack’s did not have the most
spacious rooms or the finest refreshments, it was still a venue in which any
person wishing to be accepted by Society must appear. Fresh-faced young girls,
newly out, were escorted by their ambitious mothers, while eligible gentlemen
eyed the scene languidly.

“Don’t look so
stern, Phillip,” said the dowager marchioness of Eynsford. “People will think
that you don’t wish to be here.”

The marquess turned
to his mother and smiled slightly. “They would be perfectly correct, a fact of
which you are well aware.”

“If you don’t care
about the future of the Eynsford estate, I do,” said his mother stoutly. “You
have been knocking about the Continent for years now, and one would think you
would be ready to settle down. You are the last of my sons, and I wish the
title to remain with your progeny, not those of your uncle.”

“I would hardly
call fighting the French and negotiating with Metternich ‘knocking about,’” the
marquess replied plaintively. “And one scion of the Eynsford line is much like
another, I would imagine.”

“Nonsense. Your
Uncle Robert was a fool, and his sons are worse.” The dowager frowned up at
him. “You’re two-and-thirty, Phillip, and it is high time you were married. I
was willing to put up with your nonsense before, but now it is time to accept
your responsibilities.”

Phillip Masham,
Marquess of Eynsford, gazed at his mother, both annoyance and sympathy in his
eyes. Despite the passage of time, she was still a beautiful woman, her high
cheekbones and fierce blue eyes as memorable as the day she came out. The past
five years had been difficult for her; his father had died, followed not six
months later by the sudden death from pneumonia of his eldest brother, leaving
behind a childless widow. At that time his mother had decided that Phillip, whose
father had placed him in the military, should embark on a less physically
hazardous career than leading cavalry charges, and he had been assigned to the
diplomatic corps. The shocking death of his second brother in a sailing
accident had made the diplomat a marquess, a position to which he had never
planned or wished to accede.

“Mother, dear,” he
said sweetly, “I came here because you asked it of me. But you can hardly
expect me to pick out one of these young women at random and hurry her off to
the altar.”

“No, but you can
dance with some of them, and try to find one to your liking,” the dowager
answered bluntly. “Not that I’m terribly impressed; the lot of them look as
though they have barely one thought to share.”

The marquess raised
his quizzing glass and surveyed the scene again. “Which should I lead out
first,” he asked teasingly. “The girl with the squint, or the one with the
shocking amount of jewelry strewn about her person?”

“Lord, Phillip, I
don’t care,” said his mother. “Surely one of ‘em must be reasonably attractive
and able to speak two or three sentences without making a fool of herself.”

“You set the bar
very low, Mother,” said the Marquess.

“Well, if you had a
tendre
for a respectable woman, I’d not say you nay,” she replied. “But
I’ve never seen you in love, Phillip, so I don’t see why you should worry about
that now. You’re far more interested in foreign opera singers and other men’s
wives, so it hardly matters whom you marry. I suppose she must be able to put
up with your nonsense, so a bit of stupidity might not be amiss.”

He sighed. “I know
I should be shocked at your conversation, Mother, but I seem to be inured to
it. How do you know about my opera singers?”

“All I hear from my
friends is gossip about your doings. Do you take me for an idiot?” demanded his
mother.

“Decidedly not,”
responded the marquess. “I would never make such a mistake.”

“See that you
don’t,” she snapped.

“As long as we are
here, I suppose I should do what I promised you, and dance with an eligible
child,” he said, giving her a humorous look that belied the tone of their
conversation. “Allow me to escort you to a seat.”

The dowager took
his arm, looking up at him with affection. The marquess was an extremely
handsome man with thick, burnished gold, hair, astonishing dark blue eyes set
under arched brows and heavy lids, a thin, straight nose, and mobile, well-cut
lips. A passing stranger might well have noticed a resemblance to a painting of
a Renaissance angel. This beauty of countenance, however, was marred by the harsh,
cynical expression that habitually blanketed his features and the air of ennui
he carried with him.

“You certainly are
handsome enough to charm any woman,” she said stoutly. “Finding a wife should
be no difficulty at all.”

His lips twisted in
a cynical smile. “I would have no trouble finding a wife if I were fat, bald,
and aged,” he answered. “There isn’t an unwed woman here who wouldn’t take me
simply for my title and my fortune.”

“As you would be
marrying her only to supply an heir, neither of you would be robbing the other,”
his mother pointed out. “I see no reason why you should demand devotion from
your wife when you have no intention of returning it.”

“Spare my blushes,
Mother,” said the marquess. “One usually pretends that the bride and groom have
some affection for one another.”

“Which is utterly
ridiculous. In my day we didn’t tiptoe around the subject!”

“I’m well aware
that there are no subjects upon which you will not hold forth,” rejoined the
marquess. “But perhaps Almack’s is not the best place for your views.”

The dowager looked
around. “As though I would give a button for the thoughts of anyone in this
room,” she snorted.

“I am in complete
agreement with you. And yet, if you wish me to marry one of them, perhaps
discretion should be the order of the day.”

His mother snorted,
but allowed him to lead her towards a chair by the wall. “Lord, not near Amelia
Setterington,” she objected. “I can’t abide the woman.”

Phillip obligingly
changed course, and soon the dowager was settled on a chair next to her old
friend, Lady Hambledon. After fetching her the strongest refreshment he could
find, a claret cup that she greeted with derision, he prepared to leave her to
her gossip.

“Mind you, find
someone who won’t cause me trouble,” she said.

“A respectable,
only slightly stupid, young woman who will not cause you trouble,” he said. “I
will bear it in mind.” He kissed her hand lightly and strolled away, his gaze
raking over the room. If dancing with a few of the young women present would
make his mother happy he would be glad to oblige her, but he had no intention
of marrying any of them.

The past years had
given Eynsford ample opportunity to observe how much more attractive he was
with a title than without. As a younger son with a competence that could command
the necessities but not the elegances of life, he had been anathema to
matchmaking mamas, who viewed a young gentleman of great beauty and excellent
address but limited fortune with great suspicion. As soon as he acceded to the
honors of the marquisate, however, he became the most pursued man in the
kingdom.

“Eynsford! What are
you doing here?”

The marquess turned
to see a very exquisite young gentleman with elaborately high shirt points and
a turquoise coat approaching him.

“Good evening,
Partney,” he murmured. “I am escorting my mother.”

Sir Jason Partney
raised his eyebrows. “I’m surprised to see you at Almack’s. Since your return
you’ve been far more likely to be found at Watier’s or the Daffy Club.”

“I find all this
sadly flat,” agreed the marquess. “But my mother is formidable and not to be
denied.”

“I’ve met her,”
said Sir Jason with a laugh. “A daunting woman, to be sure. The last time I
encountered her she told me she did not care for my coat.”

“She finds all of
us to be sadly lacking in manners and taste,” said Phillip. “You should not
feel singled out.”

“Would you care to
join me in the card room?” asked Sir Jason. “The stakes here are not high, but
it’s better than dancing with girls barely out of the schoolroom.”

The marquess shook
his head. “Thank you, but no. I intend to dance with one of these delightful
ladies.”

Sir Jason appeared
to be surprised. “At your mother’s behest?” he asked.

“You understand me
perfectly,” said Phillip.

Sir Jason laughed.
“When you are bored, you know where to find me.”

“Indeed.” Phillip
watched as Sir Jason moved away towards the card room and then resumed his
perusal of the salon. Many a young woman eyed him hopefully as he made his way
across the floor. The Marquess of Eynsford was known for his address, his
exquisite taste, his impeccable manners, and his caustic wit. A sign of favor
from him could add greatly to a lady’s consequence.

Eventually he
appeared to find what he was searching for, and he walked across the room, his
face a mask of boredom. If he noticed the inquiring glances and murmur of
voices that followed him, he gave no sign. Eventually he reached his quarry,
and bowed low before one of Almack’s patronesses, the Princess Esterhazy.

“Eynsford!” she
exclaimed. “How kind of you to grace us with your presence.”

He kissed her hand
and held it for a moment. “I’m delighted to find you here in London,” he said.
“It reminds me of our time together in Vienna.”

She gave him a sly
smile and tapped his cheek with her fan. “Ah, Vienna,” she murmured. “But now
we are in England.”

“Indeed we are,” he
said, releasing her. “And I must ask you to present me to Lady Pamela
Ravenscroft as a desirable partner.”

“Lady Pamela
Ravenscroft?” The princess’ delicate eyebrows inched up. “She’s a shy thing,
and hardly up to your weight, Eynsford. The poor girl’s tongue-tied and often
lacking partners.”

“Exactly,” said the
marquess. “Her father was a good friend of my father, and I feel that I should
help his children if I can.”

The princess
laughed. “How noble of you! You mean to lend her some of your consequence, do
you? But you are not
epris
in that direction?”

The marquess gave
her a look of amazement. “Hardly,” he said. “After being in your presence how
can I look at another woman?”

“You’re altogether
too glib, Phillip,” murmured the princess. “But I don’t see why we shouldn’t
give the youngster a treat.”

With a flirtatious
look she took his proffered arm, and they moved across the room to where Lady
Pamela stood by her mother. A seventeen-year-old still in possession of her
baby fat, with a slightly sallow complexion and large dark eyes, she barely
glanced at them at first, but her expression became increasingly alarmed as
they drew closer.

“Are you sure you
wish to do this?” asked the princess. “She looks terrified. Perhaps it would be
kinder for you to find a young lady more up to snuff.”

“Not at all,”
replied the marquess. “This is my good deed for the day.”

The princess
shrugged. “Very well, my friend.”

They paused in
front of Lady Pamela, who gaped at them openly. Her mother stepped quickly into
the breach.

“Good evening, Your
Highness, Lord Eynsford,” she said, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the
envious eyes turned on them by the other ladies in the vicinity.

“Ah, Lady
Ravenscroft,” said Princess Esterhazy. “Allow me to present Lord Eynsford as a
very desirable partner for your daughter.”

Lady Pamela flushed
a brilliant shade of red as Phillip bowed over her hand. “Would honor me with
this waltz?” he murmured.

“Oh—oh my,”
stammered Lady Pamela, shooting an anxious glance at her mother, who nodded
firmly. “Why—why yes, thank you, Lord Eynsford.”

With a nod at Lady
Ravenscroft and a wicked smile directed to the princess, the marquess led Lady
Pamela out onto the floor. He lightly circled her waist with one arm, and clasped
her hand in his.

“Are you ready?” he
asked gently.

She glanced up at
him, alarm in her eyes, but nodded. With a reassuring smile, Phillip swept her
into the dance. Lady Pamela had clearly been trained in the steps of the waltz,
but was an inexpert practitioner. The marquess, however, was extremely adept in
the art, having found over the course of his years in the military and as a
diplomat that skills in the ballroom were every bit as important as those at
the negotiating table.

He did not speak to
Lady Pamela for some moments, quite aware that she must be overwhelmed. Eventually,
however, he felt it best to attempt a conversation.

“Is this the first
time you’ve waltzed?” he asked in a gentle voice.

Lady Pamela’s head
popped up, and she gazed at him, her eyes wide. “I’ve waltzed with my dancing
master, of course,” she said.

“Naturally,” he
responded. “I hope I dance as well as he does.”

Other books

Lone Star Nation by H.W. Brands
The Monk by Matthew Lewis
Organo-Topia by Decker, Scott Michael
Fowlers End by Gerald Kersh
Fortune & Fame: A Novel by Victoria Christopher Murray, ReShonda Tate Billingsley
Center of Gravity by Laura McNeill


readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024