Beth had forgotten their late night debates on Shakespeare. She almost smiled in remembrance of their discussion about what was romantic and what wasn’t. He had thought Romeo and Juliet and dying for love to be romantic nonsense. She had teased him about his view of romance until he’d kissed her just to quiet her. She shook off the memory. “I would not want to take you from your guests, my lord.”
Langston moved closer. “I insist.”
She raised her chin, refusing to allow him to intimidate her. The last thing she needed was for Langston to know where they lived. “As do I. If you will excuse me.”
At that moment, the curtain behind her moved and her mother stepped into the corridor. “Beth, who are you speaking with?”
Beth closed her eyes and fought back a groan. She turned to her mother. “Mother, you remember Lord Langston, don’t you? This is his friend, Mr. St. Clair.”
The transformation was extraordinary. Lady Bishop’s face lit up with a smile. Gone was the woman who had complained during the whole of the first act. “I was just going to fetch Mr. Alderman and his carriage, Mother.”
“Lady Bishop, it would be my great honor to see you both home, if you will allow it?” Langston said.
It was times like these that Beth wished she had spent more time learning curse words, because none of the ones she knew did justice to this moment. She glanced back at Mr. St. Clair who was fighting laughter. Even he knew she had been well and truly caught.
“My lord, you honor us. We would be grateful if you would see us home, wouldn’t we, Beth.” Her mother’s voice held a note of censure that Beth just could not honor. She did not need her mother getting her hopes up again.
“We wouldn’t want to pull Lord Langston from his guests, Mother.” It was a feeble attempt, but all Beth had left. She prayed that he would take the hint and leave them alone and return to his Lady Cassandra and her money.
“It is of little matter. They are my father’s guests.” Langston turned to Mr. St. Clair. “Please give my apologies to Lady Hamilton and her daughter and tell them I had to leave on urgent business.”
St. Clair’s eyebrow went up at this statement. “Of course, Langston.” He stepped forward, took her hand and kissed it. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Bishop. I hope I have the pleasure of seeing you again very soon.”
Langston frowned at his friend as he left before turning back to Beth. “Shall we?”
He offered his arm to Lady Bishop who took it with a smile. Beth followed behind still trying to get her head around how this had happened and the fact that Providence was out to torture her. Now Langston would know where they lived. He would also know how low their state had fallen. She couldn’t tolerate Langston’s pity.
Privilege had its power and the carriage was brought around shortly after they’d descended the steps of the theatre. Langston assisted her mother into the carriage, then turned to Beth. She hesitated, not wanting to take his hand, afraid to feel his touch again.
“Please get into the carriage, Miss Bishop.”
His voice was low and demanding as if he were at his wits end with her. It was she who should be angry at his condescending attitude. She glanced at her mother and put her hand in his so he could assist her into the carriage. Beth took the seat by her mother leaving the seat facing backwards to his lordship.
“What direction shall I give my driver, Lady Bishop?”
“We are currently staying on Red Lion Square, my lord. These are temporary lodgings.”
The apologetic tone of her mother’s voice grated. Beth smiled sweetly. “Do you know it, my lord, or shall I give further direction?”
Her mother’s elbow found her ribs and she almost bit her tongue.
Langston looked down hiding his smile, the wretch. “I’ve not had the pleasure of having much business in that part of Town, Miss Bishop, but I’m sure my driver will have no problem finding your address.”
“I dare say you would, my lord. Holborn is very far removed from Mayfair.” Beth smiled sweetly. “Still it’s a very quiet area.”
“As long as it’s safe, Miss Bishop, that is all that matters.”
“Very safe, my lord. I dare say we could have walked the short journey home without difficulty. I’ve done it many times.” He mother elbowed her again. Beth glared at her mother and moved closer to the door to put more distance between them.
“We are very grateful for your thoughtfulness, my lord.” Lady Bishop said. “How is your father?”
“He is quite well, my lady.”
Beth stared out the window and kept her mouth shut. The feeling of foreboding had her rubbing her hands along her bare arms as if to ward off a chill.
“Are you cold, Miss Bishop? I could offer you my coat.”
“No! No thank you, my lord.” The last thing she needed was to be surrounded by his coat. It would be warm from his body. It would smell deliciously like the spice and bay of the soap he favored. It would be an invitation to memories better left buried deep inside her. She’d rather freeze.
“I hear you are soon to be engaged to Lady Cassandra Hamilton. Allow me to wish you very happy, my lord.” Lady Bishop said.
Beth turned to stare at her mother wondering what game she was playing. In one breath, her mother was demanding Langston make things right. Now she was talking about his engagement to another woman. The man had left said woman to take them home in his carriage instead of throwing them into a hack as he should have done.
“I fear that you might be misinformed, Lady Bishop.”
There was a tone in Langston’s voice that gave Beth a start. She turned to him but couldn’t read his face in the darkness of the carriage. “Are you not to be wed then?”
Beth fought the urge to slap her hand over her mouth. Why couldn’t she keep her thoughts to herself? Why did they have to tumble out of her mouth at the most inopportune times?
“Not at present, Miss Bishop.”
What did that bloody well mean? Beth sank back into the well-appointed carriage and crossed her arms in front of her. She would pretend disinterest. She was a horrible actress, but she could at least manage indifference despite the scent of warm man and bay that permeated the leather of his carriage. She pressed her lips together and stared out the window, praying that the congested streets would not prevent them from getting to Red Lion Square any longer than possible.
Chapter Seven
Langston watched both ladies as they sat across from him in the tight confines of his carriage. Lady Bishop had that knowing expression on her face. She’d won the battle as it were. Beth’s nose was in the air and she was staring out at the passing buildings as they made their way into Holborn. He’d not had any reason to visit this part of London but from the looks of things, it appeared to be safe. The buildings were smaller, older, dark colored in the gas lit streets. He had no idea what to expect when she’d given him the address. It made him realize how small his world was. He rarely ventured outside the parts of London deemed good by society’s standards.
The carriage stopped at a small townhouse off of Red Lion Square. Rows of townhouses lined the square. It was in one of these places, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of Holborn, that Beth lived. It was very different from her home in Mayfair and a reminder of how far she and her mother had fallen. It was also a reminder that their predicament could have been avoided had he done the honorable thing and married Beth five years ago.
Langston opened the door of the carriage and stepped onto the walkway. The streets were clean. It was quiet. There were worse places he could imagine Lady Bishop and Beth living in. There were many more that were better.
He assisted Lady Bishop to the sidewalk and then held his hand out to Beth. She barely touched him as she descended from the carriage. It bothered him a great deal more than it should. Already she was dismissing him. Despite all the lofty ancestors in his family tree, no one dismissed a person better than Miss Bishop. She could lift her chin and glare down her nose as if she own
ed the world and everything in it. Not even his own father could intimidate that well. Langston was past being intimidated by one Miss Bishop.
“My lord, thank you so much for returning us home. I’m sorry that we took you away from your friends,” Lady Bishop’s voice broke the spell. “I trust you know that you are always welcome to call, now that you know where we live, though this house is not so grand as our previous house in London.”
Langston never looked away from Beth as her mother spoke. Emotions danced across her face in quick succession: panic, fear, embarrassment. “You are very kind, Lady Bishop.”
“Beth, dear, you have the key.”
As Beth dug through her reticule for the key she glared at her mother. “I’m sure Lord Langston has much more important things to do than to call upon us.”
“Nonsense, Beth, it is our friends that keep us happy in our reduced circumstances. Is that not correct, Lord Langston?”
Langston turned to Lady Bishop. “It’s quite all right, ma’am. Do you not have a man servant to watch for your return to the house?”
“I’m afraid that we do not, my lord. Beth has us economizing so much that we can only have one servant. I’ve told her repeatedly that we should hire a man servant, but she will not relent.”
“Mother!” Beth’s voice was sharp. “Langston does not need to hear about our current domestic arrangements.”
“Oh, but I do, Miss Bishop. How else can I be of service to you ladies?”
If Beth’s glare was fire, he’d be cinders on the walkway. She held up the key. “I have the key, Mother. We must let Lord Langston get back to his guests.”
Langston smiled realizing that he was enjoying himself. He missed the fire in Beth’s eyes. He missed her independence. “I shall make sure you ladies are safe inside first.”
Langston reached to take the key from Beth’s hand to open the door.
“Not necessary, my lord!” Beth pulled the key back away from his reach. “Thank you for seeing us home. Good night.”
Lady Bishop yanked the key from Beth’s hand and handed it to him. “I would like Lord Langston to make sure the house is safe.”
Langston fought the urge to grin as he accepted the key from Lady Bishop. “It would be my honor, Lady Bishop.” He stepped past Beth’s astonished face and inserted the key into the lock. The house was dark and cold, so he stepped carefully into the entryway. “Do you have a candle or lamp?”
Beth entered into the entryway and stepped to a table to light a candle. “As you see the house is safe enough. Thank you, my lord.”
Lady Bishop came in behind her. “I should have had Tansy leave a candle burning for when we returned.”
“Mother, we can’t afford it,” Beth whispered.
“This is not the discussion we should be having in front of Lord Langston. My lord, I’m so sorry for my daughter’s rudeness.”
“Mother!”
As much as he didn’t want to laugh, he couldn’t stop it from tumbling out. Beth blushed but crossed her arms and lifted her chin, ready to argue. Lady Bishop just shook her head. “I’ll leave you to make sure the house is safe. I’m going up.”
“I’ll see Lord Langston to the door and be up directly, Mother.” Beth said moving to the stairs.
He watched the looks exchanged between mother and daughter. There was love there, something he’d not grown up with. Part of the appeal of working so closely with Sir Charles was being part of the family. He’d shared suppers with them, sat up late with Beth painting, reading, or talking. It was comfortable. So very different from his own childhood.
Lady Bishop moved up the dark narrow stairs leaving Beth alone with him, unchaperoned.
“My lord, you should return to the theatre and your guests. I need to help Mother.”
He didn’t want to leave. This small flat on the edge of good society, cold, damp, and dark held more interest for him right now than the theatre and his guests. “How long have you and your mother lived here?”
“Just two years. We were lucky to find a house in such a good neighborhood.”
The unspoken words struck him hard. Their circumstances since the passing of Sir Charles must have been difficult. The man had been a great talent, but lacked the ability to manage money. He had probably left his wife and daughter with little to live on. Langston stepped closer to Beth. She did not back away but held her ground, though her hands gripped her gown as her eyes followed him. “I never did get to pay my respects for the loss of your father.”
“Nor I, for your mother. I hope her suffering did not last long.” Beth moved past him into the small drawing room to the right of the door.
He followed her into the room as she lit a candle on the mantle, then bent to stir the embers left in the small coal stove. She added more fuel then stood and dusted her hands.
“She did suffer a great deal in the end.”
“As did Father. He had palsy in the end and could no longer paint.”
She spoke the words so matter of factly that he almost did not hear the sadness in her voice. “I imagine that made him very frustrated.”
A slight smile tilted her lips up. “Very much so. Art was his passion and to have it taken away, well, it broke my heart to watch it.”
“I understand. It was the same with my mother. You know she was an artist as well.”
“I remember you telling me.”
Memories flooded his mind of his time with Beth. He moved to the small hearth needing a bit of warmth. He felt compelled to be close to her, smell the soap on her skin.
“I've thought about you a great deal over the years, Beth. Your letters meant a great deal to me.”
Her head came up quickly. “As did yours. To me.” She looked away and into the fire. “I found myself checking the post regularly.”
“Why did you stop writing?” The question was out of his mouth before he could think to stop it. He’d wanted to ask the question since he saw her at Somerset House just days ago. “Do you regret our time together?”
Her face was pale in the candlelight, her eyes dark and wide. So many emotions danced across her face at his question: anger, pain, and confusion. “You were the one who stopped writing, my lord. After about three months of sending you letters and never receiving an answer, I just gave up. I assumed that you were no longer interested.”
“Beth, I never received those letters and I didn’t stop being interested. You have to know that I would not have abandoned you. I intended to return to you as soon as Mother was well enough.”
“But she lingered. I understand. I do. We both had our burdens to bear. Perhaps it was best that the letters were lost.”
There was something in her voice that gave him pause. She’d changed her mind about him. It had never occurred to him that she would fall out of love with him, that she wouldn’t be waiting for him to find her again. He had just assumed that she would still love him as he did her. The thought that she felt differently was like a knife wound to his heart.
“Are you saying that you no longer wish to honor our understanding, Beth?”
“Lord Langston, it’s been five years. I do not expect either of us to feel obligated to marry. We have both moved on with our lives. You are the heir to a dukedom and have great responsibility. And I—”
“That is the point, Beth. What do you have? This shabby flat in Holborn? Working each day just to make ends meet? Is that what you want?”
“All I am saying is maybe you should consider this a lucky escape, my lord.” Beth moved away from him to the other side of the room, refusing to look at him. The silence after her words was awkward.
It suddenly struck him how pretty Beth was tonight. He wished had the nerve to confide that he knew he’d made a mistake within a week of leaving her behind, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not if she didn't return his affections. He moved to stand in front of her, to be near her, if for the last time. “Are you happy, Beth?”
“I am content, my lord. I have my position with
the theatre that gives me a great deal of freedom, something I never had when Father was alive.”
His hand brushed a strand of hair that had fallen into her face. He tucked it behind her ear then brushed his fingers against the silky skin of her cheek. Her lips parted and she licked them nervously. She held herself still as if afraid of what he would do next.
Langston traced the line of her jaw with his finger, rubbing against the warmth of her skin. Her breasts rose and fell with each shallow breath she took. “Would you believe me if I told you that I missed you? Every. Single. Day.”
He brushed his mouth against hers, soft, slow, testing. She didn’t move away. Michael stepped closer, so close he felt the brush of her breasts against his evening clothes with each breath she took. She stared up at him, uncertainty dancing across her face. Her lips were parted slightly, an invitation he couldn’t resist. He kissed her again, his tongue tasting her. His hand held her face gently as he continued the teasing kisses. She leaned into him, her breasts flattened against his chest. His other hand found her waist and pulled her closer as he deepened this kiss. All thoughts fled his brain. Beth was here, in his arms. He was home.
She pulled her head away and broke the spell. “No. No more.”
At her raw whisper, Langston dropped his hands and let her step away from him, despite his body craving more. He pulled in deep breath after deep breath trying to calm his blood down. “I’ll not apologize for kissing you, Beth. I’ve wanted to do that for too long.”
She held up her hand as if to stop him from coming closer. “There is no point in any of this, my lord.”
Her voice was breathy. She was not unaffected by his kiss or his presence, and that gave him hope.
“This cannot continue. We have both moved on.”
“Have we?”
“If you are looking for forgiveness,” she said as she waved her arm at him. “You have it. You can go upon your way guilt free, honor intact again.”
“Forgiveness wasn’t all I was looking for, but it’s a start.”
The Art of Seduction (Kings of Industry) Page 5