The Gentleman's Deception

by Tuft, Karen

  “Assistance with temporary lodgings, then, as I was about to say if you had allowed me to finish my sentence.” Regardless of her words to the contrary, she was in need. “You have unlimited resources, then, do you? The money to lease rooms indefinitely while your farm of two hundred acres is restored and producing once again? The expertise to do this as quickly and efficiently as possible?”

  She looked away.

  “Lavinia,” he said, gentling his tone. “You pressed me into service when you leapt upon me and called me husband. Do not refuse my help now when I offer it freely to you and your friends. Listen for a moment. I have a solution to the immediate problem of lodging—at the very least a temporary solution that will give you the time you need to make further plans.”

  She studied him intently, her expression a blend of curiosity and skepticism. But she hadn’t silenced him, so he continued. “Primrose Farm is not far from my ancestral home, where I was intending to go before chance brought the two of us together, as you already know. In fact, we are at least as close to Alderwood in the south as we are to Sleaford in the north. We should be able to make it there within an hour or two. It is also in the direction Grimes already wants to travel on his return to London, heading south back to Stamford. He will not have to double back to the north and then south following the way we came, wasting his time and your money putting in extra miles. It works best for everyone.”

  “Everyone except your family, who are not expecting us,” she countered. “We cannot simply show up there and expect a place to stay. We would be a huge imposition.”

  Alderwood wasn’t the largest of estates and didn’t have the most expansive manor house. And if all of Lucas’s siblings and their families had gathered for his return, there would be little spare room available. There was no way to know. Regardless, he couldn’t abandon Lavinia in an unfamiliar part of the country with only Miss Broome to assist her in herding Miss Weston and Mr. Drake about while she commenced restoring her farm.

  “My family will be delighted to receive you all,” he assured her, hoping it wasn’t an outright lie. “Besides, my father is a landowner with connections throughout the county. Mr. Finch, his steward, has been with the family for years. I’m completely confident they would be willing to help, and their expertise will be invaluable as you make your plans.”

  She heaved a sigh. “Accompanying you to Alderwood is not what I would prefer to do, and yet I will concede that your reasoning is sound. As regarding the state of Primrose Farm, I admit I am out of my depths. Very well. We shall accompany you to Alderwood—for a brief stay, and only if I can see for myself that it is no imposition.”

  “Excellent.” Lucas was surprisingly relieved that she’d agreed to his suggestion, not realizing until that moment he hadn’t been looking forward to bidding her, or her friends, farewell.

  “But, Lucas, I can’t arrive at Alderwood looking like this. My dress is covered in dust and filth of a sort I don’t wish to analyze too closely. My hair’s a fright—”

  “It appears we are both in need of some freshening up.” He glanced at her traveling gown and then his own clothes. “I propose we continue south and take a room when we reach the town of Bourne so we can all make ourselves more presentable. How would that make you feel?”

  “Better, thank you. If you’re sure we won’t be a bother . . .”

  He belatedly wondered what effect Lavinia’s arrival at Alderwood might have on his family. He was certain his newfound friends were actors, although he had yet to confront Lavinia about it. Bringing actors—who, in general, were considered to be of questionable morals and low social standing—as guests to his family home was highly scandalous. His parents were good, pious people, as was his brother Isaac, the vicar, and most of his other siblings as well.

  It was too late now. His heart and good intentions had once again leapt before he’d thought through all the ramifications. But he couldn’t be any sorrier now than he’d been when he’d stayed behind with a badly wounded Anthony in Badajoz after the bitter siege there had ended. His new friends’ theatrical past would simply have to stay hidden.

  “It’s settled, then,” he said. “Let’s return to the others and inform them of the plan.”

  * * *

  Lavinia spent the time they rode toward Bourne contemplating her farm, her finances, and her fellow travelers, and she came to the dispiriting conclusion that she’d been reckless. She’d been so intent on leaving Drury Lane and her life as Ruby Chadwick behind that she’d neglected significant matters that should have been obvious and had put her friends in a vulnerable position.

  She twisted the ruby ring on her finger, the ring that never left her finger in public. Oh, but she wished the ring and its matching necklace and earbobs were made of real rubies rather than paste. She would sell them in a heartbeat. She had absolutely no idea what the costs of restoring Primrose Farm would be. It could potentially deplete most, if not all, of her savings.

  They secured a room in Bourne, and she and Delia freshened up, with Lavinia taking extra care to make sure her appearance was demure and untheatrical. “The lord and lady won’t have any interest in me,” Hannah said, insisting on using the hour they were there to assist Lavinia and Delia with their dressing and grooming. “I look like a servant because that is what I am.”

  All too soon, they were back in the coach and on their way to Alderwood, where she would be introduced to Lucas’s parents, the Viscount and Viscountess Thurlby.

  “I shall tell these people I am your long-lost grandmama,” Delia proclaimed. She’d long since recovered from her fainting spell at the farmhouse and had donned a light gray gown, her fluffy white hair twisted as best as possible into a topknot. She looked, as she always did, like someone’s fairy godmother. “You’re already like a grandchild to me, Livvy dear, if I’d ever had children who could give them to me. I shall say you and I were reunited in London after the death of your poor papa.”

  “And I shall be your father’s loyal valet, who stayed by to protect you and the other ladies with my presence,” Artie added. “I play the faithful servant very convincingly, I believe.”

  “You play the faithful friend excellently too, Arthur,” Delia said. “You were a wonderful Horatio. I never saw a performance so moving.” She dabbed at her eye with her handkerchief for effect.

  Artie bowed his head in humble acknowledgment of her words, laying a hand on his heart. “That is a greatest of compliments, Delia, and I shall hold it close to my breast until my dying day,” he said.

  “You always have such enthusiasm for whatever roles you play,” Lavinia said, interrupting their bout of mutual admiration. “However, a truthful approach is best, for all our sakes. To wit: Hannah has been my nurse since the loss of my mother, which is true. And you and Artie are longtime associates of my father and are my dear friends, which is also true. It is what we told Lucas, and it will suffice for his family, until we can make other arrangements for lodging.” She tried not to think of the cost involved in taking rooms for them all and wished she had a better idea of how long it would take to get the farmhouse habitable.

  “What if they ask, Livvy?” Artie asked. “What then? What are we to say? Our characters need a history.”

  “We aren’t characters, Artie. We are who we are,” Lavinia said. But who is the real Lavinia Fernley? she asked herself. She wished she knew. She was tired of playing roles, both on stage and in real life. “Turn the conversation away from the past, if possible. For example, I became acquainted with Lucas in London, and he invited us to his home for a visit. I won’t tell them it was barely three days ago when we met.”

  “Ah, I see. I shall say you are a dear girl and like a granddaughter to me, then,” Delia said with a nod. “That is the truth too, after all.”

  “And I am here as a family friend and gentleman escort to you ladies, providing aid and protection,” Artie said, straightening in his seat. “That is true too.”

  Lavinia looked over at Hannah
, who rolled her eyes. Lavinia turned to look out the window and bit her lip so as not to insult Artie’s masculine pride.

  From beyond the window, she could see Lucas on his horse, his face like granite. Studying faces came naturally to Lavinia—it had helped her hone her craft as an actress. She studied Lucas more closely. What would cause him to have such an implacable countenance, growing even more so the closer they got to Alderwood? He’d not hinted at bad relations with his family. He’d described them to her as hospitable and friendly.

  What if they were anything but?

  She looked away, her heart pounding as though it was an opening night at the theater. She tugged at her gloves and smoothed her burgundy skirt, then checked to make sure the ribbons of her bonnet were snug and arranged in a becoming style beneath her chin.

  “You’re fidgeting, luv,” Hannah said.

  Lavinia immediately folded her hands into her lap. It was ironic, really. She, The Darling of Drury Lane, who’d been hailed and applauded by London’s elite, was terrified to be presented to Lucas’s family—because they were a normal family.

  And more than anything, she wanted to be normal.

  Out the window, Lucas suddenly reined Hector to a halt and pointed. “There,” he called. “Just beyond the trees. Alderwood.”

  Lavinia closed her eyes briefly to collect her wits before looking out the window to see his family seat.

  “Oh,” she breathed. Alderwood was a solid, two-story structure built of stone with cultivated gardens Lavinia could just make out through the trees. She’d driven past many stately homes in her travels with the theater troupe, and she was always struck by their size, the magnificent grounds, and her smallness next to them by comparison.

  The coach, with Lucas leading the way, turned off the road to head down Alderwood’s private avenue, bordered on either side by hedgerows. Long before she was ready, the coach slowed to a stop at the main entrance, and Lucas opened the door and set the steps in place. Lavinia descended first, her gloved hand in his. His face still looked like granite, but his lips were curved slightly at the corners in what might almost be considered a smile. It wasn’t the most promising of sights, and Lavinia’s pulse sped up again.

  “Welcome to Alderwood,” he said as Garrick arrived to assist Delia and Hannah from the coach.

  The front doors blew open, and a young female burst through and down the steps toward them. “Lucas! Is that you? Oh, it is you! Finally, finally you are here!”

  The girl, who looked to be about eighteen, flung herself into Lucas’s arms and buried her head against his broad chest. “Oh, Lucas, how I’ve missed you!” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “Rebecca,” Lucas said simply, resting his head on hers and wrapping his arms around her, holding her close.

  It was a sweet reunion between brother and sister, and Lavinia’s heart ached. How would it feel to have a brother or sister and share a love like that?

  Three other people came through the front doors and approached them. Two of them, a tall, lanky man of middle years and a short, plump woman, Lavinia presumed correctly to be the Viscount and Viscountess Thurlby, Lucas’s parents.

  “Mama, Father,” Lucas said, embracing his mother and shaking his father’s hand as Rebecca moved to the side and dabbed at her cheeks with her handkerchief. “It’s good to be home.”

  The other individual was a lady Lavinia guessed to be about her own age or slightly older. She was slender and graceful in her movements and perfectly poised—the epitome of what a young lady of quality should be. Her blonde hair was elegantly coiffed, her face a perfect oval. She was truly the perfect English rose.

  When the English rose’s eyes fell on Lucas, her expression changed to one of deep emotion. She moved closer and offered him her hand, which he bent over. “Lucas, dear brother,” she breathed. “It has been so long. Welcome home.”

  “Thank you, Isobel,” he said.

  The woman had called Lucas her dear brother, and yet her eyes had been luminous with something that clearly spoke of a relationship different from what Lavinia had just observed between Rebecca and him.

  Lucas stepped back from Isobel, his face once again like granite.

  “You have brought guests with you,” his mother said. “We did not anticipate you would be traveling in company with others, but if you are friends of my long-lost son, you are welcome here. Lucas, would you please make the introductions?”

  “Of course, Mama,” Lucas said with a tight smile. “Allow me to present Miss Delia Weston, Miss Hannah Broome, and Mr. Arthur Drake.”

  Artie made a deep theatrical bow, and the women each dropped into curtsies, with Delia curtsying so low Lavinia was afraid her knees would lock and she wouldn’t be able to get up again without assistance. Lavinia was going to have to remind her and Artie once again to be subtler in their manners.

  All eyes had turned to her now, and Lavinia felt a hum of expectation rise amongst them that was similar to what she had experienced each time she’d left her theatre dressing room to meet her admirers—except these people were not her admirers, and there was a look of outright disdain on Isobel’s face.

  Lucas’s face was so rigid Lavinia was afraid it might crack. He looked from his mother to his father to Lavinia to Isobel and back to Lavinia. Lavinia hardly dared breathe, so intense was his gaze. And then it was as though the air shifted. Something in his eyes changed—a look of epiphany and defiance.

  Lavinia stopped breathing altogether.

  He extended his hand to her, taking hers in his own. “Mama, Father, Rebecca . . . Isobel,” he said. “It is my great pleasure to present Miss Lavinia Fernley, my betrothed.”

  Chapter 10

  It seemed to Lucas that the earth actually stood still—like the suspension of time a soldier experiences before pulling the trigger immediately following the command to fire. It lasted less than a fraction of a second, this stopping of time, and then Lavinia transformed before his eyes into a new Lavinia, a Lavinia who was his betrothed.

  She was always a wonder to behold, with her radiant hair and arresting looks. He never tired of looking at her. She couldn’t help but draw attention by simply being her wherever she went. But there, right before his eyes, her back straightened a bit more, her chin tilted slightly upward, and her mouth curved into the most poised smile he’d ever seen.

  She hadn’t looked at him in shock or given away his falsehood. Neither had her friends. Hannah had already assumed the role of servant and had retreated into the background. Mr. Drake stood stoically by, as though making such a pronouncement as Lucas had done was a daily occurrence. Miss Weston was smiling beatifically.

  On the other hand, his mother’s mouth was uncharacteristically open, his father’s eyebrows had risen nearly to his receding hairline, Rebecca looked about to burst, and Isobel had gone pale.

  All this happened in but a matter of seconds, although it seemed a lifetime to Lucas. He continued the introductions. “Lavinia, dearest, may I present my parents, the Viscount and Viscountess of Thurlby, my sister Rebecca, and my eldest brother, Thomas’s, wife, Isobel.”

  Lavinia dropped into an elegant bow worthy of the court of the Prince Regent.

  And the earth began moving again.

  Rebecca squealed and dashed to Lavinia, giving her a bone-crushing hug and exclaiming how happy she was to be getting another sister while Lucas’s mother took his hands in her own and received his kiss. His father came forward to shake his hand and then bow over Lavinia’s.

  “We knew it was a match made in heaven,” Lucas heard Miss Weston saying to his mother. “Did we not, Arthur?”

  “Oh, indeed, indeed,” Mr. Drake said, winking.

  “It appears we have much to discuss,” his mother said diplomatically, although if Lucas was to go by her countenance, he suspected the discussion would be a private one between him and his parents and could potentially occur at a rather high pitch. “You could have at least mentioned her in one of your letters,” she added in a
low voice for Lucas’s ears only. “I feel rather thunderstruck.”

  His father’s brows had nearly returned to their normal position on his forehead, which was a good sign, although he’d also gone somewhat serious after Lucas’s announcement, which was not. “Lucas, if you’ll point the coachman in the direction of the stables so Martin can see to their needs,” his father said evenly.

  “Certainly, Father.”

  “Come inside, Miss Fernley,” Mama said, “and your traveling companions, of course, so you may rest and we can get better acquainted. Isobel, if you’d be so kind as to ring for tea. Rebecca, let the rest of the family know Lucas is home and we have visitors. They will want to meet their brother’s . . . betrothed. This way, everyone. Miss Fernley.” She led the way inside, the others following close behind.

  Lucas took a deep breath and brought up the rear.

  He’d done it.

  The son who’d left university to enlist and had no wife and no career had not faced his family empty-handed after all; he had not arrived home with nothing to show for himself.

  He’d presented his parents with something—something quite impressive, in fact. He’d arrived with a bride in tow—a spectacularly beautiful bride. It was all a big lie, of course, but he’d deal with that later.

  Best of all, Lavinia and the others had followed his lead. Well, Lavinia would—she’d pulled the same trick on him at the White Horse in London just a few days earlier, and he hadn’t even known her at the time. He’d followed her lead then, hadn’t he? Of course, she would follow his lead—they all would.

  Isobel, he’d noticed, had gone pale and utterly still when he’d made his announcement. What had she expected would happen when he finally returned home? That she would ignore what they’d shared and the unspoken attachment they’d formed before she’d gone and married Thomas and then expect Lucas would simply remain her forlorn admirer?

  No, he would not be sorry he’d done this.