by Heather Boyd
They all may never see Sylvia again.
The thought brought him to his feet.
“Where are you going?”
“I just remembered something I have to attend to.” Like fixing things, so Sylvia would remain exactly where he needed her to be. Right under his nose, managing Mama in such a way that he had actually stopped worrying when he couldn’t be at home. Sylvia allowed him to continue his work, his interests, and still left him feeling confident that he was doing the right thing for his family, even if he couldn’t be with her, too.
Carmichael nudged their friend Scarsdale with his toe. The man swatted away the annoyance and went back to sleep. “What shall I do with this one?”
“Well, I don’t know,” he nearly shouted. How could he worry about Scarsdale when the woman he wanted was about to be driven away from him?
Carmichael scowled. “You brought him with you, or did you forget that, too?”
He looked at his friends sourly. Carting Scarsdale back to his townhouse might mean he missed seeing Sylvia tonight. “Cover him up and kick him out in the morning, like I usually do. I don’t have time for him now.”
Alexander headed for the door, but had to put his hand out to the wall after a few steps, as the world lurched and rolled. “I need my carriage,” he shouted out, hoping a servant was nearby and heard him.
Carmichael was suddenly at his elbow. “Wharton, what’s got into you? What’s so important?”
“Nothing,” he promised, but he couldn’t look at Carmichael right now. Not when the woman he damn well had fallen for was keeping yet another secret from him.
How stupid he was not to have realized it before.
He was in love—and there was a good chance he could be loved in return.
Or he might have been, if he’d not stupidly offered to make Sylvia his mistress instead of the better position as his wife.
Everything made sense now.
Sylvia was needed right where she was. He wouldn’t allow her to retreat from his life, from his mother, anytime soon. She’d chosen them, him and his mother, and he accepted the challenge of making her a central part of his life as soon as he could.
He had a ten-minute wait for his carriage, and when it came, he demanded it hurry him straight to his mother’s townhouse. Once there, he rushed upstairs.
Mother was unfortunately alone and asleep in her darkened chamber when he barged in.
“Did your mistress kick you out again, Arthur?” Mother asked sleepily.
Alexander blanched at hearing the question, and Father’s name after so long of never hearing it. He wet his lips. “It’s Alexander, Mama,” he whispered. “Your son.”
“Oh, oh,” she said, struggling to rise. “I could have sworn you were your father coming home late again.”
“No, it’s just me. Lie back. I got turned around in the dark, unfamiliar house. I’m sorry I woke you.”
Mother huffed. “You’ve been drinking again, haven’t you?”
He didn’t even bother to dissemble. “Yes, Mama.”
“I knew London would turn you into a sot, just like your father was before he married me. I straightened him out, of course, and then his mistress ruined him for good. I thought I was a good wife…but not good enough.”
Alexander approached the bed. Mama had a terrible opinion of mistresses. Father had disappointed her with the way he’d carried on with his. She expected Alexander to be just as weak as his sire, too. But he was far smarter.
“The failure was never yours, Mama,” he promised. “Father was selfish and cruel. Everything I abhor about married men.”
“And yet, you took a mistress.”
He tried to imagine Sylvia in the role of his mistress, waiting for him to find the time to come and see her. He understood now why she’d rejected his offer out of hand. She would have disappointed Mother. His offer wasn’t respectable enough for anyone he truly cared about. And he cared about Sylvia very much. “I don’t have a mistress now, and when I marry, there will be no need, I imagine.”
“Do you expect me to believe you will only marry for love?” Mama asked, frowning.
“Of course. What other reason could make an impatient man wait so long to wed?” Alexander leaned over the bed and kissed her brow lightly. Mother would unwittingly play a vital part in his strategy to bring Sylvia into the family officially, starting tomorrow.
Mother stared at him. Her eyes were the only two small bright spots in the dark room. “A wife you can love and respect is just what you need,” she suggested.
Only if her name was Sylvia. A marriage proposal was probably the last thing she expected from him after their last private conversation, but she would have one. Though first, Alexander had something special to collect from home before he started. “I wholeheartedly agree. Good night, Mother. Sorry to have disturbed you.”
“Anytime, son. Anytime,” she said sleepily. “By the way, I’ve always hoped you would have a grand wedding here in London, but I suppose it will depend if your future wife and I see eye to eye.”
Alexander grinned. Oh, his future wife and Mother seemed to agree on everything so far. He doubted that would change anytime soon.
He backed from the room and went to his, anticipating seeing Sylvia again tomorrow, and forever after that.
Chapter 23
The ton were out in force in great numbers, prowling Hyde Park, the place to be seen by those who mattered, in their very best carriages and most fashionable attire. Everyone she saw belonged.
Sylvia was here under duress.
The Duchess of Exeter had invited Sylvia to join her for a drive after her visit with Lady Wharton had gone so well. Lady Wharton, keen to please her new acquaintance, had insisted Sylvia must go for the air and exercise.
Sylvia hadn’t felt she’d needed any, but protesting too much would have offended her grace. She looked up at the bright sky and forced a smile. “It’s a lovely day.”
“Indeed it is. I’m glad you could join me. Exeter would have been here, too, but my husband thought he’d ride in the park instead to give us privacy to have a little talk.”
Sylvia twisted to look at her. “What about?”
“Oh, don’t look so fearful, my dear. There’s nothing at all to worry about.”
Sylvia subsided. Since Lady Wharton’s shocking confession about her health, she’d become a little jumpy when she suspected she’d be hearing bad news soon.
“I merely heard of the problems you and your cousins have had with certain people in recent weeks. I wanted to offer my help if you need it. Why didn’t you say something sooner? I was astonished to hear that your name had been dropped from the guest lists for a time.”
Sylvia winced. “It hardly matters now.”
“But they were your friends, and it isn’t right.”
“They were fickle. Much too swift to condemn me just for trying to keep a promise.”
“I must say, I thought Lady Wharton was looking very well today for what she must have endured. I had honestly expected to meet a sickly woman; instead, I kept thinking she was about to launch herself out of bed at any moment and dance.”
“She was in high spirits today, wasn’t she?” Sylvia agreed. “I’m not sure why, though.”
“Well, whatever has cheered her up, I hope it continues making her smile,” Lady Exeter confessed.
“Most days she’s a bit prickly, frustrated with her slow recovery.”
“She’s very fond of you and thinks of you as a daughter, I suspect,” her grace murmured. “Do you think she’ll move to Wharton House soon?”
“I don’t know when she might go, but the physician still warns against jostling her about unnecessarily. The wound is quite large. I would hate for something preventable to cause a setback.”
She would be sad on the day Lady Wharton left Berkley Square. She had decided that would be the perfect time to start finding excuses not to travel so far to see her.
“Do you worry Wharton will try to st
op you from seeing his mother again?”
“I don’t believe he’d do any such thing now,” she assured her. They made a good team, really. “He apologized for his behavior, and I believe him sincere.”
“Well, if you argue again and he dares try to toss you out, he’ll answer to me next time,” her grace warned.
“I don’t imagine I could give him a reason to resort to such measures again,” Sylvia promised.
He was a good man. Generous and kind to his mother, and to herself, too. He hadn’t seemed overly affected one way or the other since she’d ended their affair. They had both gotten along with their lives again, had retreated from each other, too.
But she loved having the marchioness living so close by while it lasted. It had been the closest she’d felt to having a mother again. But eventually, Alexander would insist he had to take his mother back to Wharton House, some distance away. At that point, Sylvia would be on her own again with just her cousins. They were still mulling over the direction their futures would take, but the most likely outcome was that they would move from London.
“I am glad to hear it. You must have been very shocked that he would…” the duchess began, and then smiled. “Oh, look. There is my dear husband riding by, and our Teddy, too, is with him. Don’t they look a handsome pair?”
Sylvia murmured her agreement as the men came closer. Teddy seemed surprised to see Sylvia but offered a sincere smile nonetheless.
“Miss Hillcrest. Good afternoon,” the duke said, and then drew close to his duchess. “Well met, wife.”
Her grace extended her hand beyond their carriage to shake his, and then patted his horse, too. “How was your ride?”
The duke looked a little windswept and the horse was almost in a lather. “Quite good. Long enough, I think. May I join you?”
“You’re always welcome,” the duchess promised, and Sylvia nodded, too. “Actually, we were just about to stretch our legs.”
“Then I will be happy to join you,” he promised.
Exeter patted his horse fondly then swept off the beast in the manner of a man who had spent a great deal of time on horseback. A groom rushed to take the reins and lead the horse away. Mr. Berringer lingered on his mount, and the duke looked up at him. “Are you not going to join us for a stroll, sir?”
“If I wouldn’t be imposing,” he murmured.
The duke made a sound like a horse and took the bridle of his heir’s mount himself. Mr. Berringer swept off his horse, not quite as smoothly or as lightly as his older cousin, and his horse was taken away to be tied to the back of the carriage, too.
The carriage door was opened by a groom and steps put down for the duchess to exit. Sylvia followed, although she’d not been asked if she wanted to walk about. Her grace went to her husband and the pair started off together down the path. That left Sylvia to walk beside Thaddeus Berringer.
“I’m sorry that our arrival might have spoiled your carriage ride with her grace,” Mr. Berringer whispered.
“I was going to apologize for interrupting your ride with the duke,” she whispered back.
“It was always bound to happen. As soon as I saw the duchess was in the park, I knew his grace couldn’t resist diverting to be with her,” Mr. Berringer confessed with an exasperated laugh.
“They are very much in love,” she agreed.
“I certainly hope so. What of you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Come now. I think we’ve known each other long enough not to play games. I know why everyone comes to the park at this hour. I’m sure you’re a great admirer of the opposite sex, and are here to admire someone you hold in special admiration.”
The only man who fit that description lately was Wharton. She lowered her eyes, determined not to look for him here. “I imagine you come here for a similar purpose, too,” she confessed.
“I am very pleased to find you in the park to admire,” he promised, his expression one of open delight as he looked down upon Sylvia from his greater height with decidedly masculine interest on his face.
Sylvia winced inwardly. She had never wanted this man to imagine there could be anything between them but friendship. He felt…wrong, though there was nothing physically about him that repulsed her in any way. She just wasn’t attracted to him, or anyone else she’d met of late.
The painful truth was that Thaddeus Berringer just wasn’t the Marquess of Wharton, the man she continued to long for in the depths of her soul. Not enough time had passed for Sylvia to imagine herself in another lover’s arms yet. If she ever could. “Alas, admiring does not often lead to claiming.”
“A pity,” he murmured and looked ahead quickly. “I’m not sure you’re aware that I called at your home a few times over recent weeks. Your cousin explained on my last visit that you’ve become indispensable to the Lady Wharton. I hadn’t realized just how much time you had been spending with her until her grace explained the arrangement you made with Lord Wharton to both watch over her.”
“She’s become a good friend, and I’m very fond of her,” Sylvia told him. “Her recovery is unfortunately slow and quite frustrating for her. It helps her to have a constant distraction, so I visit often and stay longer than I would normally have visited with anyone. Lord Wharton cannot always be with her, unfortunately.”
“I see. When do you imagine the lady will be well enough to no longer need almost all of your attention?”
“I honestly don’t know. The surgery and confinement has weakened her, I fear. It will be many months more before she is fully healed.”
“Ah,” the man said, sounding so disappointed by the news that Sylvia was almost embarrassed she didn’t like him more. There was nothing she could do about it though, other than continue to offer a friendly ear and perhaps try to encourage his affections toward someone more suitable.
“So tell me, how many times did you dance at last night’s ball?” she asked. “Tell me about the lady that most impressed you? Is she in the park today?”
“I had hoped to dance with you last night.” When Berringer smiled quickly, almost a wince, Sylvia felt bad. “But where Wharton goes, you are unlikely to be anymore, it seems.”
“I was with his mother,” Sylvia admitted. “But you are the Duke of Exeter’s heir. I’m sure you didn’t lack female companionship.”
Berringer stopped and looked right at her. “None of them were the lady I most wanted to dance with, but it seems she is immune to the lure of the riches I will inherit…and me, too.”
He held her stare, a question in his eyes that she had to answer.
“I’m sorry,” Sylvia said, lowering her gaze. He’d all but declared himself in love with her today, but Sylvia just didn’t feel the same. She wanted to let him down gently. “I’m sure you will find someone who appreciates you the way they should very soon.”
He sighed. “I can’t imagine it.”
“You will. You must.” Sylvia winced again. “Trust me, it is impossible to force anyone to fall in love.”
Berringer nodded. “Oh, how I envy Lord Wharton now.”
Sylvia froze in fear, but then her cheeks began heating from that remark. “Why should you envy him?”
“Because while he might be forced to live with his mother away from his mansion, he is assured the pleasure of your company almost every day for a good long while to come. It’s obvious you hold a special place in his affections.”
Sylvia looked away, blushing. “I’m sure Lord Wharton cares only that my long visits make his mother happy.”
“It’s more than that, I suspect.” Berringer sighed again and shook his head. “For you as well, even if you will not admit it.”
Sylvia wanted to deny Berringer’s claim, but he was correct. She did think very highly of Alexander. Unfortunately, he hadn’t revealed such a partiality for her company. He’d tried to make her his mistress, a position which Sylvia would refuse to accept even now.
Berringer pursed his lips, and then turned away. “S
hall we catch up to their graces?”
“Yes, I think that would be best.”
They met the duke and duchess, now turned back, and headed toward the carriage. They joined the pair in another slow stroll through the park. She and Berringer walked in silence now. Awkward and uncomfortable with each other. She hoped he was not angry with her for not caring about him.
Sylvia climbed into the carriage with a heavy sigh, and was unsurprised when Mr. Berringer declined to join them for the long drive home. Thankfully, he hid his feelings well and displayed no overt sign of bitterness toward her for not loving him back. She waved him goodbye and looked ahead.
She’d fallen in love with Alexander…and she’d keep it her secret forever.
Chapter 24
When a man began a courtship, he must have a clear understanding of what he offered the object of his affection. Alexander was a marquess, and his bride would become a marchioness of an old and distinguished English family. He was rich, too, wealthy beyond the comprehension of all but a few in society. He had all his own teeth and he didn’t look too bad in bright light, either.
But those were still not reasons anyone should ever choose him as a husband.
He was well aware of his failings. He was proud and vain and secretive. Much too involved in the business of running his vast estate and investments. He was politically minded, loath to miss any session of parliament if he could help it. He’d neglected his family for years and had only just begun the long journey to recapture their respect, and the hand of the one woman he admired above all others.
Only she wasn’t in her home right now, while he was.
She hadn’t been with his mother, either, so he’d had no choice but to come here and speak with her cousins—women who didn’t look at him with too much kindness right now.
The Hillcrest women, the older Eugenia and younger Aurora, wouldn’t say where Sylvia was. They appeared vastly uncomfortable right now, especially since he’d insisted he remain in their home without saying why he wouldn’t go, until Sylvia returned home and joined them.