Lady Morgan's Revenge: Letitia's Naughty Regency Novella Page 3

  “How cold-blooded of you, Phillip,” said Lord Exencour. “Surely you have time to find someone who touches your heart before sacrificing yourself and some child in such a way.”

  “Your marriage has addled your brains,” said the marquess, but the statement was accompanied by a smile that softened the words. “But I wish I were as romantic as you.”

  They reached Grosvenor Square and paused some distance from Strancaster House.

  “You must come to dinner, Phillip. Isobel will be glad to see you again, though we entertain very little as 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 am sure Isobel would find such an excursion tempting.” said Lord Exencour.

  As they spoke, the door to Strancaster House opened and a lady emerged, accompanied by a maid and two small children. Angelically fair curls framed an oval face with well-shaped brows over eyes of celestial blue. Her complexion had been compared by many admirers to an English rose, and her Cupid’s bow lips were parted in a smile of delight. Despite her somber mourning dress, she laughed as she promised the clamoring children that yes, indeed, they were going to the Park. The picture was one of considerable charm, and Lord Exencour was amused to find his friend staring quite openly.

  “Is that 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 charming then.”

  “She still is. I admire Lady Morgan; if not for her, it is very likely Isobel and I would never have wed,” said Lord Exencour.

  “What befell Lord Morgan?” asked Lord Eynsford.

  “A 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 rather underbred. One could not say so, of course.”

  “Of course,” agreed Lord Exencour. “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 present 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 you should dine with us en famille,” said Lord Exencour. “Lady Morgan does not go out in public, but if you joined us at home 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 both ladies again.”

  Lord Exencour laughed. “Lady Morgan is quite set against remarrying; indeed, she has developed an abhorrence of the fashionable world, and I cannot 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 for long. Lady Exencour and Lady Morgan are seeking a house for Lady Morgan to rent. 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, while she makes her home quietly in London.”

  “Well, I hope she rejoins society after she is out of mourning,” remarked Lord Eynsford. “Whatever her sufferings, she is still a great beauty. Now, I must be on my way. I look forward to dining with you tomorrow.”

  The gentlemen shook hands, and Lord Exencour entered his house in search of his bride.

  Chapter 5

  Lord Eynsford hesitated a moment after the door closed behind Francis, then turned towards the park. It was too early to see the fashionable crowd riding and driving, but there were many people enjoying the fine weather, and small children playing among the trees. He found himself looking searchingly at the groups of children, until finally he spotted Lady Morgan and her children. They were tossing a ball back and forth, clearly enjoying their time together.

  Lord Eynsford watched from a distance, his face clear of its customary haughty expression. Seven years earlier, Phillip Masham, aspiring cavalry officer, 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, he 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 her parents. 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.

  His encounter with Letitia had been one of the few times Phillip had felt his heart might become engaged. Being snubbed by her parent had left a lasting impression, and while not exactly wearing the willow for a lost love, Letitia’s open, pleasing ways and remarkable beauty had held a place in his heart ever since. This softness had been overlaid with so many layers of boredom, cynicism, and indifference that it had almost disappeared, but seeing Letitia once again produced a sense of loss and longing that was entirely unfamiliar to him.

  He shook his head and walked on. It was foolish to indulge in boyish fantasies; he doubted a widow with small children would hold the same allure as had the laughing creature in the ballroom.

  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 the butler showed him to the elegantly appointed drawing room where Lord Exencour offered his guest a sherry.

  “I fear we must wait 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 Isobel entered. She paused a moment, taken slightly aback by the sheer masculine beauty present in her drawing room. Her husband was by any measure 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 looked 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’m pleased to be here, Lady Exencour,” he responded. “I have been complimenting my friend on his excellent taste.”

  “Flatterer, said Isobel. “But pray, continue. We have been married more than a year now, and my husband does not
praise me as he used to.”

  “You wound me,” said Lord Francis, putting his arm about her waist. “You know I think you the most delightful creature in England.”

  Eynsford surveyed them with a smile. “I see 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 and patted the place next to her. “Come, my lord, sit by me and tell me more. I fear he will not furnish me with any but the most innocuous descriptions of his time in Spain.”

  This produced more laughter from the men and Isobel regarded them with pleasure. She was only slightly acquainted with the Lord Eynsford, but knew of his reputation as a haughty and disagreeable fellow. When they had met previously, he had seemed pleasant, if detached, but she now saw him at his most engaging.

  “Will Letitia be down soon?” asked Lord Exencour, when he stopped laughing.

  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 Eynsford a considering look. “As we are among friends, I will be honest. Letitia is, I fear, quite uncomfortable about meeting any gentleman of fashion. Lady Morgan was not well-treated by her husband or her cousin, my lord, and has taken a rather strong dislike to the idea of the haut ton. I am sure this prejudice will pass, but just now it is very strong. She pleaded to be excused.”

  Eynsford felt an unexpected flood of disappointment wash over him, but schooled his countenance.

  “What a shame,” said Lord Exencour. “Eynsford was looking forward to renewing an old acquaintance with Lady Morgan.”

  “T’was naught but a dance some years ago,” Eynsford said calmly. “It is a pity though that she has taken such a dislike to Society.”

  “Indeed,” said Isobel. “I admit that there is nothing in her husband to mourn, but it’s troubling to see his memory continue to influence her life. I encourage her to go out, but must wait and hope she changes her mind.”

  The dinner bell rang and they went up to the dining room. Eynsford remained a delightful companion, in spite of a sense of loss. He had scarcely realized how much wanted to see Lady Morgan again.

  Chapter 6

  At the theater their party attracted attention, for Lady Exencour was renowned for her dashing sense of fashion and her two companions were well-known members of the Corinthian set.

  “I say, Eynsford has returned to England,” observed Horace Worth to his mother, the Dowager Countess of Twytham. “He is unbending amazingly, too; he ain’t the sort of fellow to be seen enjoying himself, but I swear I just saw him laugh.”

  The Countess put up her lorgnette and observed the Strancaster box. She snorted. “It’s that Isobel Exencour,” she said. “A shameless minx. You think she’d be content with catching young Wheaton and his fortune, not that she needed it with all that money of her own. Now she seems intent on enslaving Eynsford.”

  Horace sputtered. “That isn’t fair, Mama. She and Exencour are very happy, and he is a friend of Eynsford’s. Did you know Lady Morgan is staying with them? I saw her the other day; she is still very lovely.”

  His mother turned her glass on him. “Don’t even think about it, Horace,” she said. “You have to marry money, not some penniless widow with two children, no matter how pretty she is.” She turned back to the Strancaster box. “Now, between those three there’s more money than in the Bank of England. Unfair, I call it.”

  During the interval the box filled up alarmingly. Many visitors wished to greet the viscount and viscountess, but the majority was there to hail the return of Eynsford to England. Several mothers seized on the slightest acquaintance with Isobel or Eynsford’s mother to display their blushing daughters. Isobel was amazed to see their charming companion turn into a bored and cynical Tulip of Fashion, eyeing the intruders coldly and dispensing caustic comments. More than one hopeful miss wilted under his critical gaze.

  As they returned home, Isobel asked Francis about Eynsford. “He was entirely delightful when we were alone, but he seemed to live up to his reputation as a haughty fellow when others approached us,” she said.

  Lord Exencour smiled. “Phillip is a good sort; he was a brave officer and an extraordinary diplomat. But when the world beat a path to his door after he inherited the title, it made him cynical.”

  “Yet he is so very pleasant when he is with friends,” Isobel replied. “Francis, I have an excellent idea. Would not he and Letitia make a delightful pair?”

  Lord Exencour groaned. “Isobel, your friend is widowed barely two months and you are already planning her next wedding? What became of the Isobel Paley who thought marriage a trap?”

  Isobel laughed and took her husband’s hand. “She has learned what a delightful thing a good husband can be. You vouch for Eynsford’s character and think how delightful it would be for Letitia. He is wealthy, charming and humorous, and they both have a dislike of Society. Besides, consider how handsome they would look together!”

  “Now you have only to overcome their objections, for you have quite convinced me,” said Lord Exencour. “However, as Letitia swears she will not remarry, and Eynsford told me yesterday that he doubts his heart can be won, how do you hope to accomplish the thing?”

  “It will be difficult, but not impossible,” said Isobel. “I owe it to Letitia to settle her happily, for we owe our current state of bliss to her.”

  “Very true,” said Exencour. “But I do not think matching making is wise.”

  “We shall see,” said Isobel.

  Exencour sighed. “I see I shall be much neglected until your plot bears fruit,” he said in a put-upon tone. “I suppose this is how it is when a marriage begins to turn sour.”

  This produced a laugh and the hoped for kiss from his wife. All thoughts of Letitia and Eynsford faded from Isobel’s mind.

  Eynsford returned home in a curiously abstracted mood. He went to his library, a bottle of brandy at his side and his dog at his feet. His long, slim fingers fondled the hound’s silky ears, and deep brown eyes met those of lapis blue.

  “Why does her face haunt me, Foxer?” he asked. The hound looked silently at him, and placed its wet nose in his palm.

  “She is more beautiful than most women, I grant you,” said the marquess. “But I danced with her only once. I do not suppose she would remember me if she saw me now.” The dog licked his wrist.

  Eynsford smiled bitterly and continued to pet Foxer’s ears, each stroke pulling the hound’s eyes closed, an expression of bliss on its face. It seemed to soothe the man as well, for the hard expression left his face and he looked oddly young and vulnerable.

  “She was very beautiful and charming, wasn’t she?” he asked the dog, who whined in reply and settled his chin on the marquess’ feet. Eynsford refilled his glass with brandy and sat back, turning the glass in the candlelight, watching the flames glow in the amber fluid. He sipped thoughtfully and the dog lay silently, looking up at him. Suddenly the man put the glass down with a snap, startling Foxer, who sat up and nosed under his elbow.

  “You are right; I am a fool, and, unbelievably, a sentimental fool. The lovely Lady Morgan fills my thoughts, and yet, how am I to pursue a woman who not only is not dazzled by my title and fortune, but will not even meet me because of them?”

  The dog wagged its tail and yipped encouragingly.

  “You encourage me in my infatuation, Foxer?” said the marquess. “Perhaps you are right. Exencour thinks highly of her, and any woman who would turn down an introduction to the Marquess of Eynsford is remarkable. I shall see what I can do.”

  Foxer eyed him thoughtfully, and then judging the conversation to be over, settled on the hearthrug with a hearty sigh. The marquess gazed into the flames, a thoughtful look on his face.

  Chapter 7

  The following mornin
g Isobel found her husband and Letitia at breakfast before her. They were discussing the play of the night before, and Isobel did not hesitate to express her opinion.

  “It was dreadful,” she said decisively. “I cannot think how some people have come to praise it.”

  “I’m sorry your evening was not pleasant,” said Letitia.

  “On the contrary, the evening was very pleasant, despite the play,” said Isobel. “Eynsford was delightful companion and we managed to amuse ourselves quite tolerably. It is a pity you did not join us for dinner as I think you would have liked him very much. Do you not agree, Francis?”

  Lord Exencour gave his wife a reproving glance. “I consider Phillip Mashham a very good friend,” he said cautiously.

  “There,” said Isobel. “If Exencour finds him pleasant, you may be sure that he is. I myself was quite taken with him; I have met him before, of course, but I have never really conversed with him. He is so amusing and attentive. I am sure you would have been quite charmed.”

  Letitia looked up from her toast, a smile in her eyes. “Really?” she said.

  “Definitely,” said Isobel. “He is also quite astonishingly handsome. Francis tells me he is not over-fond of Society, so that is something you have in common. I hope you meet him soon.”

  “I hope so too,” said Letitia, smiling. “But it is unlikely as I am in black gloves.”

  “That does not mean you must hide yourself completely from the world. No one would gossip if you occasionally met people here at Strancaster House.”

  “But I won’t be at Strancaster House much longer,” observed Letitia. “I have trespassed on your hospitality too long already.”

  “Don’t be silly, Letty,” said Isobel. “You cannot leave until we find you a home, and we have seen nothing suitable yet.”

  “I have seen several lovely houses,” said Letitia. “It is you who always find fault because the ceilings are too low or the street is too noisy. I think I shall take that house in Kensington that we saw three days since; I was charmed by it.”