Viscount Exencour
strolled leisurely towards his home in Grosvenor Square. He had spent the
afternoon at White’s, and upon leaving had found the weather so unseasonably
warm that he had determined to walk home. He looked forward to seeing Isobel
and discovering what progress she and Letitia had made in securing a house for
the latter; the process had become quite complicated, for although Letitia
would have been quite happy with any number of the houses they had seen, Isobel
deemed none of them to be sufficient for her friend, and thus the search
continued.
Lord Exencour’s
secretary was becoming quite frantic in his attempts to find a house that would
satisfy Lady Exencour. His lordship found the whole business amusing; Letitia
Winwood had come to stay with them after Morgan Park’s tenants took over in
February, and he was perfectly content to have her under his roof as long as
she cared to stay, and therefore did not attempt to hurry the hunt along.
As he strolled and
enjoyed the sunshine, a rarity in late winter, he was greeted by another
walker, a strikingly handsome gentleman of about his own age.
“Francis!” he
exclaimed. “I am pleased to see you. It has been too long since our days
together in Lisbon!”
“Phillip!”
exclaimed Lord Exencour. “How good to see you again. Don’t tell me they no
longer need you in Vienna, for I shall not believe it
.”
“They will have to
do without me,” responded the Marquess of Eynsford. “I have been too long away
from England, and so I told them. You perceive me a free man, Francis, without
a care in the world!”
Lord Exencour gazed
at the other man with affection. His friendship with Phillip long preceded that
gentleman’s accession to the Eynsford marquisate, so he knew the warm and
generous side of the marquess’ nature. Francis was appreciative of Phillip’s
natural brilliance of mind, which, combined with an ease of manner and, in his
younger years, a sweetness of disposition, made him a natural negotiator who
could extract concessions from opponents and yet leave them feeling as though
they had emerged from the encounter victorious.
“You deserve it,
Phillip,” said Francis. “Lord knows you’ve given king and country enough of
your time these last years. Sometimes I think the diplomats had it worse than
the soldiers.”
“I suppose that
depends on whether you’d rather dodge a Frenchman’s bullets or Metternich’s
tongue,” said the marquess. “I did think at times that bullets were less
lethal.”
“I am glad you
survived, at any rate,” said Lord Exencour. “I have missed you, and of course
those adventurous times in Lisbon. I’ll never forget the Duke’s face that night
you stole Mrs. Marchant out from under his nose!”
The marquess
laughed. “With help from you, Francis, don’t let it be forgotten. I’ll not take
all the credit for that. But I hear you’re no longer stealing ladies away from
your friends. What is this about your marriage?”
A smile played
across Lord Exencour’s face. “I have indeed entered that honored estate,” he
said. “I think that you will find my wife most charming. She is--”
“I know who she is,
Francis!” interrupted Lord Eynsford. “Any number of people wrote to give me the
startling news that Miss Isobel Paley had succumbed at last. I have met her
many times and even danced with her; what a sensation she was in her first
Season. You have stolen a march on many a fellow, Francis. They must all be
wondering how you did it.”
“It wasn’t easy,”
said Lord Exencour ruefully. “She was determined not to marry.”
“Then your time in
the army learning perseverance must have stood you in good stead, “ said Lord
Eynsford. “I wish you very happy, and your charming wife as well. She must have
made many an ambitious mama angry by wedding you; surely you were the finest
catch on the Marriage Mart.”
“No, you hold that
title as long as you remain single, Phillip,” retorted Lord Exencour.
“You wound me to
the quick! Do not look for me to be marrying soon, Francis. You have wed
perhaps the last young lady in London that I might have found attractive. None
of them move me sufficiently to contemplate matrimony.”
“Hence the
cheres
amies
?” asked Exencour. “Do you still have that Spanish opera singer under
your protection?”
Lord Eynsford
laughed. “Long gone, Francis. A delightful woman in many ways, but what a
temper. I could not tolerate it for long.”
“What better than a
sweet English miss then, to make you forget her hysterics?” asked Lord Exencour
with a wicked smile.
“I must judge you
to be very happy in your marriage, Francis, if you would foist the same on me. And
my mother is before you, with her terrifying demands that I find a young and
biddable bride,” shuddered Lord Eynsford. “But I have yet to meet a young lady
who thought so highly of me that she did not think of my title and fortune
first.”
“Your problem,
Phillip, is that you are a cynic,” said Lord Exencour.
“While yours,
Francis, is that you married a woman you love,” responded the marquess. “Perhaps
I will be so fortunate someday, but until then, I must find my enjoyment where
I may. Though I do admit to owing it to the name to produce a brood of children
in my own image. My current heir is my nephew, who combines indolence with a
propensity for gambling and libertinism that would rapidly dissipate the wealthiest
estate. But on a recent visit to Almack’s I found one young woman to be much
like the next. Perhaps I will let you identify a fresh young miss straight out
of the schoolroom for me, one who would bear me children and be docile enough
to put up with my amours.”
“How cold-blooded
of you, Phillip,” said Lord Exencour. “I believe you have some years to seek
out the right female before you sacrifice yourself and some child in such a
way. You may still find someone who touches your heart.”
“Your recent marriage
has addled your brains,” said the marquess, but the statement was accompanied
by a smile that softened the words. “I wish I were as romantic as you, Francis.”
The gentlemen’s
footsteps had led them to Grosvenor Square and they now paused some distance
from Strancaster House.
“You must come to
dinner sometime, Phillip. Isobel will be glad to see you again, as she knows
the esteem I hold you in. We do very little entertaining just now; a friend of
Lady Exencour’s was recently widowed and stays with us.”
“But you are not in
black gloves as well, are you? I hoped that we might make up a party and attend
the theater.”
“I will speak to
Lady Exencour. She is very concerned about her friend, but I am sure an
excursion such as that would be tempting to her. We are only recently out of
mourning for my brother,” said Lord Exencour.
As the two
gentlemen conversed, the door to Strancaster House opened and a lady emerged,
accompanied by a maid and two small children. She presented a lovely picture,
for although she was dressed in the strictest black, her widow’s weeds served
only to highlight her startlingly fair beauty. Angelically fair curls framed an
oval face with well-shaped brows over eyes of celestial blue. Her complexion
had been compared by more than one admirer to that of an English rose, and her
cupid’s bow lips were parted in a smile of delight. Despite her somber dress,
she laughed as she promised the clamoring children that yes, indeed, they were
going to the Park, and certainly it would be possible to play with their ball. The
picture was one of considerable charm, and Lord Exencour was amused to find his
friend staring quite frankly.
“Is that not
Letitia Winwood?” asked Lord Eynsford.
Lord Exencour was
startled that his friend recognized Letitia. “Yes, it is,” he responded. “Are
you acquainted with her?”
“No,” said Lord
Eynsford. “That is to say, yes. I danced with her during her Season in London
some years ago, but she was already engaged to Alfred Winwood at that time. She
was a charming young lady.”
“She is still very
charming. I admire Lady Morgan; if it were not for her, it is very likely
Isobel and I would not be wed,” said Lord Exencour.
“What befell Lord
Morgan?” asked Lord Eynsford.
“A most distressing
hunting accident,” said Lord Exencour. “Lady Morgan was very surprised.” He
reflected that this, at least, was the truth.
“I never cared for
Morgan,” observed Lord Eynsford. “It was nothing I could put my finger on, but
he seemed to be rather underbred. One could not say so, of course.”
“Of course,” agreed
Lord Exencour. “But I fear that you were right about Lord Morgan, and I wish I
had been as perceptive as you. Lady Morgan did not enjoy a happy married life.”
Lord Eynsford gazed
at the lady in question as she paused on the steps to take her daughter’s hand.
“I realize that she
does not go out into public, but perhaps you might introduce me, Exencour?” he
asked.
Lord Exencour
laughed. “Of course, Phillip. I am pleased to see you taking an interest in an
Englishwoman.”
“Unkind, Francis,”
said Lord Eynsford, a small smile on his lips.
“Perhaps the best
solution would be for you to come to dinner tomorrow night,” said Lord
Exencour. “Lady Morgan does not go out in public, but if you were to dine with
us
en famille
, you would not only be able to renew your acquaintance
with my wife, but with Lady Morgan as well. Afterward, perhaps you, Lady
Exencour, and I could attend the theater.”
“An excellent idea,”
said the marquess. “I would be delighted to see the former Miss Paley again,
and I must confess to having fond memories of my dance with Lady Morgan.”
Lord Exencour
laughed. “Do not give up your heart to her, Phillip. She is quite set against
remarrying; indeed, she has developed an abhorrence of the fashionable world,
and I can hardly find it in me to blame her. It has not served her well.”
Lord Eynsford gave
his friend a haughty glance. “Do you think me so easily won over, Francis? I
merely appreciate beauty when I see it.”
Exencour laughed. “Is
that so, Phillip? Then tomorrow evening you can also appreciate my wife.”
“I already admire
Lady Exencour, Francis,” said the marquess. “You shall soon be notorious for
having the two most beautiful women in London living in your home!”
“What a fate!” said
Lord Francis. “But it shall not be so for long. Lady Exencour and Lady Morgan
are seeking a house for Lady Morgan to rent. I think it is no secret that Lord
Morgan sadly neglected his estate, and now Lady Morgan is attempting to save it
for her son. It will thus be rented for some years, and she means to make her home
quietly in London.”
“She will be quite
an addition to Society when she comes out of mourning,” observed Lord Eynsford.
“Whatever her sufferings may have been, and even if her fortune is dissipated,
she is still a great beauty, and of course bears an honorable name.”
“I very much doubt
that Lady Morgan will choose to lead a
tonnish
life,” observed Lord
Exencour. “She has expressed little interest in joining the social whirl and
even less in marrying again. Her experiences with her late husband and her cousin,
Lord Bainstall, have not led her to think of noblemen as desirable
parti
s.”
“What, does she
think so poorly of you as well?”
Lord Exencour
laughed. “I am the only exception, I believe. Lady Morgan thus far does not
seem to doubt my sincerity. It is a great shame she does not wish to marry
again, for I doubt she would lack suitors. When Horace Worth saw her last week
he became positively foolish; rather like you, Phillip.”
The marquess
laughed. “I never become foolish over women, Francis. Aggravated, amazed, and
frustrated, perhaps, but never foolish.”
“I may see you at a
disadvantage yet, Phillip,” said Lord Exencour.
“You may, but I
believe it unlikely,” said Lord Eynsford. “Well, Francis, I must be on my way. I
look forward to tomorrow evening.”
The two gentlemen
shook hands, and Lord Exencour entered his house in search of his wife.
Lord Eynsford
hesitated a moment after the door closed behind Francis, and then turned his
footsteps towards the park. It was too early to see the truly fashionable crowd
riding and driving, but there were numerous strollers enjoying the fine
weather, and many small children playing among the trees, their nurses in
attendance. He found himself looking searchingly at the groups of children,
until finally he spotted that for which he, almost unknown to himself, had been
searching. Lady Morgan and her children were engaged in tossing a ball back and
forth, presenting a picture of serene domestic happiness. The boy was a slender
lad, unfortunately, to Lord Eynsford’s eyes, resembling his father, who had
been very dark and handsome in the mold of Lord Byron. He seemed to be
untouched by Lord Morgan’s unattractive character, however, for he was gentle
with his little sister, a child of about three who laughed merrily as she
attempted to catch the ball tossed carefully to her. Lady Morgan’s affection
for her children was apparent in her happy smile and glowing eyes as she joined
merrily in their game.
Lord Eynsford did
not approach them, but watched for some moments, his face clear of its
customary haughty expression. Seven years earlier, Phillip Masham, aspiring
diplomat, had entered Lady Wiggin’s ballroom, seen the newly out Letitia
Devereux and lost his heart. Her pure ethereal beauty had bewitched him and,
begging an introduction from his hostess, he had claimed her hand for a set of
country dances.
Enchanted with her
pretty manners as well as her beautiful face, the then Lord Phillip had
introduced himself to Letitia’s mother, only to receive a chilly rebuff. Letitia
had received a most advantageous offer, and only the details of the marriage
contract remained to be settled before the betrothal was announced. The third
son of a marquess was of no interest to Lady Bainstall. Lord Phillip, who even
then had reason to believe that Lord Morgan might not be entirely desirable as
a husband, could do nothing, and had retired from the amatory lists.
That encounter with
Letitia was one of the rare times when Phillip had felt his heart might
possibly become engaged, and his snubbing by her parent had left a lasting
impression. While he could hardly be said to be wearing the willow for a lost
love, Letitia’s open, pleasing ways and remarkable beauty had held a special,
though unacknowledged, place in his heart ever since. This softness had been
overlaid with so many layers of boredom, cynicism, and indifference that it
would seem to have disappeared, but the sight of Letitia produced a sense of
loss and longing that was entirely unfamiliar to him.
He shook his head
and walked on. It was foolish to be indulging in boyish fantasies; his path had
long ago separated from Letitia Winwood’s, and he doubted a widow with small
children would hold the same allure as had the laughing creature in the
ballroom. That part of his life was over.
The next evening
Lord Eynsford presented himself at the Strancaster House promptly at eight o’clock.
He was clad with great propriety in an evening coat and perfectly fitting knee
breeches. He handed his hat and evening cape to the footman, and allowed the
butler to show him to the elegantly appointed drawing room. Lord Exencour
awaited him, and offered his guest a sherry.
“I am afraid we
must wait some minutes for the ladies to complete their toilettes,” he said
with a smile. “I am sure it will be well worth it.”
In the company of
his old friend, Eynsford’s air of weary hauteur left him, and the two gentlemen
were laughing when the door opened and Isobel entered. She paused a moment in
the doorway, taken slightly aback by the sheer masculine beauty present in her
drawing room. Her husband, by any measure, was a very handsome man, but he was
cast quite in the shade by the marquess. Isobel blinked and smiled, then
greeted her guest.
“Lord Eynsford, how
pleasant to see you again. You are so seldom in England that I feel honored to
have you in my home.”
The marquess kissed
her hand gracefully and smiled down at her. She was very beautiful, her auburn
hair and sparkling green eyes set off by her dress of white satin and silver
net, trimmed with green velvet ribands. He felt a slight pang of envy at the
obvious pride and love in Exencour’s eyes.
“I am honored to be
here, Lady Exencour,” he responded. “I have been complimenting my friend on his
marriage. I was unaware that he had such excellent taste.”
“Flatterer,” said
Isobel. “But pray, continue. I have been married more than a year now, and my
husband does not compliment me as he was used to.”
“You wound me,”
said Lord Francis, putting his arm about her waist. “If that is true, it is
merely to prevent you from becoming swollen-headed. You know you are the most
delightful creature in England.”
Eynsford surveyed
them with a smile. “I see that you have brought my bold companion to heel,
ma’am,” he said. “In our wild days in Spain, Francis did not stay with one woman
long.”
Isobel seated
herself on the settee and patted the place next to her. “Come, my lord, sit by
me and tell me of my husband’s time in Spain. I fear he will not furnish me
with any but the most innocuous descriptions of his stay in that land.”
This brought more
laughter from the men. “I do not dare, my lady,” said the marquess. “Francis
would surely have my head.”
Isobel regarded the
two gentlemen with pleasure. She was only slightly acquainted with the Lord
Eynsford, but was aware of his reputation as a haughty and disagreeable fellow.
When they had met on the previous occasions, he had seemed pleasant, if
detached, but she now found him at his most polite and engaging.
“Will Letitia be
down soon?” asked Lord Exencour, when his merriment had passed.
Isobel frowned
slightly. “I am very sorry, but Lady Morgan declines to dine with us this
evening. She sends her apologies to you, Francis, and to Lord Eynsford.”
“Why is this?”
asked Lord Exencour. “Is she unwell?”
Isobel paused, and
gave Lord Eynsford a considering look. “Well, we are among friends, so I will
be honest. Letitia is, I fear, quite uncomfortable at meeting any gentleman of
fashion such as Lord Eynsford. You must understand, my lord, that Lady Morgan
was not well-treated by her husband or her cousin, and has taken a rather
strong dislike to the idea of the
haut ton
. I am sure it is a prejudice
that will pass with time, but just now it is very much in the front of her
mind. She begged me to make her excuses, and I could not refuse.”
Eynsford was
conscious of an unexpected flood of disappointment washing over him, but
schooled his countenance.
“What a shame,”
said Lord Exencour. “Eynsford was looking forward to renewing an old
acquaintance with Lady Morgan.”
“Indeed? When did
you meet Lady Morgan?” asked Isobel.
“‘Twas nothing more
than a dance at a ball some years ago,” he said calmly. “I recall that she was
a delightful partner. What a shame that she should take such a dislike to
Society, as she will be greatly missed.”
“Indeed,” said
Isobel. “I constantly encourage her to enjoy herself more. I will admit in
private that there is nothing in her husband to mourn, but I am distressed to
see Letitia allowing his memory to further influence her life. But she seems
quite determined, and I must wait and hope that she changes her mind.”
Lord Eynsford
smiled. “As do we all, I am sure,” he said. He turned the conversation to other
topics, and soon they went into the dining room to eat. He remained a
delightful companion, but in the back of his mind was a certain sense of
discomfort. He had scarcely realized how much value he had placed on once again
encountering Lady Morgan, and he was distressed by the depth of disappointment
he felt.