The Gentleman's Deception

by Tuft, Karen

  “What he means,” Thomas said, “is that he is being led around by the petticoats of a—”

  “Allard, Mr. Finch, will you excuse us?” Lucas said, interrupting his brother before he could say anything more.

  Allard and Finch had enough sense to excuse themselves and leave.

  Lucas kept his eyes on Thomas until he was sure Allard and Finch were beyond earshot. “I will have your apology,” he said. “Yours too, Isaac.”

  “For what?” Thomas asked, locking eyes with him.

  “What do you think? Petticoats? Brazen? Discreetly setting Lavinia up in her own household? I would have your apologies!”

  Isaac’s face had turned beet red. “I’m sorry you overheard that exchange, Lucas. It was just talk between brothers, truly. But surely you realize Miss Fernley’s looks have a remarkably, uh, singular effect on others. Regular people need time to . . . adjust.” He seemed to be stumbling over his tongue in his search for the right words. “I’m truly sorry, Lucas.”

  “It’s your turn now, Thomas,” Lucas said.

  Thomas drilled him with his eyes. “I apologize for speaking in an unflattering manner in private about someone who is a guest of my parents in their home. My home. I shall do my best in future to keep my opinions to myself. That is your apology.”

  “That is no apology. What right have you to judge her in such a manner on such short acquaintance? Was her dress immodest in any way? Was her bearing? Her speech?”

  “Not at all,” Isaac assured him. “Quite the opposite. Isn’t that right, Thomas?”

  “I daresay the woman could be completely hidden under draperies and she would still look—”

  “Thomas,” Lucas said in warning.

  “Never mind. I take your point, little brother. I shall refrain from speaking about the lady and will allow that I have no cause to judge her on such short acquaintance,” Thomas said.

  “Excellent,” Isaac said, looking relieved. “I believe we have what we need and can return to Alderwood; don’t you agree, Lucas?”

  “For now,” he replied, his words holding a double meaning. Lucas was in no way satisfied with Thomas’s words, but they would have to do for the time being.

  They spotted Finch and Allard standing near their horses at the front of the house in an animated discussion about the renovations that would soon begin.

  “Ah, Mr. Jennings, sir,” Allard called to them as they approached. “Me and the guv here are in agreement about how to proceed, if that meets with, er, your lady’s approval. I can get some men started on the farmhouse straightaway, and once we get the parts for the wind pump, we can get that up and running too. It’s too late to be starting regular-like planting, but if we’re lucky, we might get a few quick-growing crops into the ground.”

  “Mr. Allard is very enthusiastic,” Finch said. “We have yet to discuss the costs involved, however. But he’s right in that if we can get some acres drained and planted posthaste, there may be enough income brought in from that to offset the initial costs of restoring the house, at least. And that gets things off to a good start.”

  “I will take a good start where I can find it,” Lucas said. “We all will, won’t we?” He looked over at his brothers. He hoped the meaning of his words wasn’t lost on them.

  * * *

  Lavinia wasn’t sure what to do with herself. The previous day had been exhausting, but she’d lain awake most of the night nonetheless, knowing that Lucas would be returning to Primrose Farm early that morning and she would be left to carry on the charade without him for most of the day.

  She’d risen later than she’d intended as a result, certain Lucas’s family held to country hours, and berated herself for the reflection her lateness might have on Lucas. She’d washed and donned the most demure day dress she had, a simple muslin with a high neckline and no flounces, then she’d brushed and twisted her unruly curls into a knot at the back of her head.

  She should go downstairs and face Lucas’s family. But she wasn’t ready to do that quite yet.

  She removed a small notebook she kept in the false bottom of her jewel case. Anything she’d been given of worth from her admirers she’d sold to jewelers or pawned and had added the money to her carefully invested savings. In order to appease her conscience, she’d always declined any such gifts, only accepting something if the gentleman was stubbornly insistent—and then she’d made it clear that it was a gift, not a quid pro quo in expectation of receiving sensual favors.

  She had watched her father and his women enough as a girl—the countless occasions she’d seen him wander off with one to a local pub after rehearsals or performances, his returning home the following morning to sleep off too much drink, stinking of stale perfume and gin. He’d at least had enough decency not to bring the women under their roof—whatever roof it had happened to be in whatever town they were staying. Lavinia suspected he’d known Hannah would have shooed him and his light-o’-love out the door with a heavy broom if he’d done so.

  Lavinia had not known what a light-o’-love was back then and had been jealous of the women and the attention her father had given them.

  That had changed when she’d turned thirteen, following a performance in Newbury of The Babes in the Wood. Lavinia, despite her impending womanhood, had played one of the orphaned children left abandoned by the wicked uncle in the wood. It had been a good role with actual spoken lines, the first role in which Lavinia had played a significant part rather than appearing as a background performer of some type. She’d been flattered to have been chosen and had gone into rehearsals with a great deal of enthusiasm. Her father had seemed pleased too.

  Opening night, however, Lavinia had discovered the hard way that the actor playing the wicked uncle was, indeed, wicked, when he took her aside and whispered in her ear the kinds of delights they might share together during the duration of the run.

  Lavinia hadn’t known what he’d been talking about; she’d known only that she hadn’t wanted any part of what he’d been suggesting. The incident had actually helped her performance during the run of the show, for she’d truly been able to convey total repugnance toward the wicked uncle onstage as well as offstage. After that, Hannah had stuck to her side like a stern governess wherever she went.

  By the time Lavinia’s father had died, she’d had her fill of opportunistic men and their coarse intentions.

  Shaking off her gloomy memories, she opened her notebook and studied the numbers written within, trying to imagine how much of her hard-earned savings she would need to spend on Primrose Farm before she and the others could at least move in. She was not comfortable here at Alderwood, despite the polite hospitality being offered. She was not comfortable being here under false pretenses.

  She added the columns to check her sums, then added them again and then again just to be sure. There was really no way for her to determine what the expenses would be, not until Lucas and the others returned. She had no experience whatsoever with which to even venture a guess. She wished she’d gone with them despite Lucas’s gentle insistence that she remain behind.

  Her calculations did nothing to clarify the situation, and really, she was simply avoiding the inevitable—leaving her room and joining the family downstairs.

  She closed the notebook and tucked it back into the false bottom of the jewel case, then returned the case to the wardrobe. She peeked at herself in the mirror, patted her hair to make sure her pins were securely in place, and then straightened her back and lifted her chin before leaving her room.

  It was time for Lavinia, betrothed lady, to make her entrance in this little farce.

  “Oh, good. There you are. I was just about to send a servant up to check on you.” Lucas’s sister Susan stood at the bottom of the stairs watching Lavinia as she descended to the main floor. “Where are the others?”

  “Still asleep,” Lavinia said, hoping her voice sounded convincingly cultured. No one had commented to the contrary yesterday, so that was a good thing. “Delia and
Artie aren’t used to country hours. They may not show themselves until after noon. Hannah is usually an early riser, like myself, but I suspect she was more tired than usual after yesterday’s travel. I thought to let her sleep.”

  They reached the breakfast room, a cheery, intimate space with windows that let in the morning sunshine. “Please ask Cook to arrange for hot cocoa and toast to be sent up to our guests’ rooms in an hour,” Susan said to the footman, who stood inside the door. He nodded and left. “There you go, Lavinia. You are not to worry about your cousins and friend. Now, please help yourself to whatever you wish at the sideboard.”

  “Where is the rest of the family?” Lavinia asked as she dished eggs and sausage onto a plate. She and Susan were the only two here.

  “Father has broken his fast already and is inspecting the grounds since Finch accompanied Lucas and Isaac to your farm. Mother rarely eats breakfast, preferring tea and toast in her room when she wakes, but she should be joining us shortly. Rebecca—”

  “Rebecca what?” Rebecca herself asked as she entered the room.

  Susan dished eggs and toast onto her plate and set it on the table across from Lavinia, who had seated herself. “Rebecca is a wonderful baby sister of whom I am inordinately fond. And if I know my sister well—and I do—she can usually be found wherever there is anything new and exciting taking place.” Susan raised her hand to the side of her mouth. “And you, Miss Fernley,” she said in a stage whisper, “are definitely new and the most exciting thing to happen to this family in longer than I can remember.”

  “That is true,” Rebecca said, dishing up a plate of food for herself. “Most of the excitement in the family occurs far away from Alderwood, and I must beg Mama to tell me what my brothers and sisters write in their letters. To have you and Lucas here, to watch your love and betrothal unfold, is a delicious dream.” She plopped into the chair next to Lavinia as Susan poured tea for each of them.

  “Rebecca really is a clever girl.” Susan sighed dramatically. “Although you would never know it from her overly romantic declarations. Please do not wax rhapsodic over the ecstasies of love, Rebecca. Not while I’m eating, at least.”

  Lavinia sipped her tea to cover her smile.

  “Susan is a self-avowed bluestocking, you know, Miss Fernley,” Rebecca said.

  “Please call me Lavinia, if you would. What is a blue—”

  “Oh, that’s smashing! I should love for you to call me Rebecca, above all things. A bluestocking is a lady who prefers books to men.”

  Susan rolled her eyes. “That’s rather an oversimplification of the word,” she said.

  “Susan has always been exceedingly clever,” Rebecca continued. “Even more clever than James, who is a solicitor in Lincoln and was always at the top of his class.”

  “James?” Lavinia asked.

  “Yes, James, our brother,” Susan said. “I know, there are a lot of us to keep track of. You’ll get used to it.”

  “Right. James.” Lavinia needed to be a bit more careful about what she said.

  Rebecca giggled. “James was here for an entire week a fortnight ago, expecting Lucas to arrive, but he had to go back to Lincoln. Pressing business, he said. And now you’re here. Oh, I wish he could have stayed. It’s so exciting that you are here; I can scarcely contain myself. Lucas, home safe from the war and betrothed, no less. What fun!” She clasped her hands to her breast.

  “Our Rebecca was disappointed about not having a Season this year, you see,” Susan explained. “But you shall have a Season next year, Rebecca, now that Lucas is home. I’m sure of it. If you really want one, that is.”

  “Oh, Susan; you know I do.”

  “Yes, darling, I do—as long as you remember that London Seasons aren’t always what they’re cracked up to be. They can be terribly dull. I know mine was.”

  “There are sights to see, of course, and the gentlemen and ladies look elegant in all their finery,” Lavinia added. “But one can grow tired . . .”

  The sisters both looked at Lavinia with interest when her words trailed off. Lavinia had mingled with members of the ton, it was true, but certainly not in the same way a young debutante would have been introduced to London Society. “I merely find the country a refreshing change from London at present,” she explained while she gave herself another mental talking to. “I imagine we can find tediousness in day-to-day living no matter where we are.”

  They seemed to accept that answer, thankfully.

  “How did you and Lucas meet?” Rebecca asked, propping her chin on her hand in preparation, no doubt, to hear a romantic story for the ages.

  Lavinia took a bite of eggs and chewed slowly and swallowed before answering. “I saw him across a crowded room,” she began. She would let them imagine what kind of room it was—she certainly wouldn’t tell them it was the public room of the White Horse. “He was tall and handsome,” that was true, “we spoke briefly,” also true, “and then he took me for a stroll,” at her pleading insistence—out of the public room and up to his room so she could avoid being spotted by the Earl of Cosgrove’s cronies.

  Rebecca sighed. “And was it love at first sight?”

  Susan raised an eyebrow in anticipation of Lavinia’s answer.

  What to say?

  “Oh, good. Here you are, Lavinia.” The Viscountess of Thurlby swished into the room at that moment, rescuing her from having to answer a difficult question. “I can see Lucas’s sisters have been taking good care of you.”

  “Indeed, Mama. She has been telling us how she and Lucas met,” Rebecca said.

  “That is a story I should like to hear sometime,” Lady Thurlby said, pouring a cup of tea and sitting next to Susan. “You must promise me, Lavinia. But at present, we have other matters to discuss. Yesterday afternoon, I wrote to Lucas’s other siblings, James and Martha and Simon. I was hopeful when Lucas returned to England that we could all be together, but he felt the need to stay at his wounded friend’s side, and now Martha will have to remain home until after the baby arrives. But I expect James and Simon to arrive shortly after they receive my letters, if they know what’s good for them. Perhaps Lucas has already had occasion to introduce you to Simon, since he has been in London.”

  “No, ma’am. I am looking forward to the pleasure.” Lucas had never mentioned any siblings whatsoever during their journey. And Lucas’s brother Simon was living in London? That was a complication she hadn’t anticipated in agreeing to come to Alderwood.

  “In the meantime, I think we should begin planning the wedding. You can never start too soon for these types of occasions, I always say. Have you begun calling the banns? Are you planning to marry in London or here at our own St. Alfred’s, with Isaac officiating? Oh, wouldn’t that be lovely, having Lucas’s own brother perform the nuptials. He hadn’t been ordained yet when Thomas and Martha each married. Susan, I shall need you and Rebecca, along with the servants, helping with the cleaning and cooking, you know—we are not above such honest work here in the country, are we, girls?”

  “Yes, Mama, er, no, Mama,” Rebecca said, apparently unsure which question she was answering.

  “Ma’am, meaning no disrespect, but your son and I have not precisely settled on a marriage date,” Lavinia said. “Perhaps it would be well to wait for Lucas to discuss the matter. He was most anxious about returning home and spending time with all of you after his long absence—and assisting me with Primrose Farm, of course. Those were the priorities, you see, and so I am perfectly content to remain betrothed for the time being.” Trying to stay as close to the truth as possible and wrack her brain for the proper demeanor and etiquette she’d observed over the years was beginning to give her a headache.

  “He hasn’t suggested a wedding date yet? You have more patience than I do,” the viscountess said. Then her expression cleared. “No matter. We shall begin the preparations regardless. And we shall have an evening of entertainment for our closest neighbors and friends once James and Simon arrive so that you may become
acquainted with everyone and they with you.”

  “That would be lovely,” Lavinia said. Oh, but her head was beginning to ache in earnest. What had Lucas gotten her into?

  “It would seem a meeting has been going on, Clara, and we were not invited,” Isobel said as the two of them entered the breakfast room.

  “There was certainly no meeting I was aware of,” Susan said. “I have merely been breaking my fast, as I do every morning. How about you, Rebecca?”

  “The eggs are particularly good today, Isobel,” Rebecca replied.

  “I haven’t seen that day dress before, Isobel,” Lady Thurlby said. “Is it new?”

  “I have been saving it for a special occasion. And what can be more special than the arrival of a new sister-in-law?” She smiled at Lavinia.

  Ah, her smile. Lavinia had perfected that particular smile when she’d played Beatrice in Much Ado about Nothing—sweet, with just enough acid dripping from it to warn of potential danger. “I’m honored you would think my arrival a special occasion. What a beautiful shade of blue. Very becoming.”

  “Yes, indeed, it is very flattering, Isobel,” Lady Thurlby said. “But I thought—” She glanced at Lavinia. “Well, never mind what I thought.”

  Isobel dished food onto her plate and took a seat next to Rebecca. Clara took a single slice of toast.

  “How are you feeling this morning, Clara? Better, I hope?” the viscountess said, attempting to change the conversation. “Clara is in the family way again,” she explained to Lavinia.

  “Not really,” Clara said.

  “Your color is much improved,” Lady Thurlby said.

  “It’s the dress.”

  Poor Clara. The day dress of soft-pink muslin she was wearing did flatter her, despite her being a bit under the weather this morning.

  The viscountess patted her hand. “Did you get any sleep last night, dear? That’s it, isn’t it? You were in the nursery most of the night again.”

  “Samuel is cutting a tooth, and Mrs. Wynn can’t see to him and keep up with all the other children come morning,” she replied.