by Lauren Smith
“I wish to speak with the woman who gave me this letter. She advised I give it to the man who answered the door when I arrived.”
Ambrose held out the letter and the man accepted it, his eyes running keenly over the words, and then he stared at Ambrose.
“Come inside and wait.” He let Ambrose follow him inside, and then he disappeared into a room upstairs. Ambrose studied the fine furnishings of the townhouse, from the gleaming banister to the satin-lined walls and exquisite paintings. There was a portrait of a handsome young man and a dark-haired woman together. The man’s laughing eyes and the woman’s indulgent smile seemed so intimate that it made Ambrose’s chest tighten. He and Alex might never have a portrait like that made with each other. Lord, he wanted that future with her more than anything in the world. He leaned in closer to the portrait, wondering if the woman was Lady Society. If so, she was clearly married.
The man reappeared at the top of the stairs and waved Ambrose to join him.
“The lady will see you now.” The man opened the door to the drawing room.
His stomach flipped with a rush of nerves. This woman, whoever she was, could bring the wrath of the ton down on him with her pen, or she could save Alex. Ambrose entered a well-lit room with pink damask drapes parted to let the daylight in. A hint of roses filled the air, and he noticed several vases of freshly cut blooms adorning the tables and sideboards. There was no sign of the dark-haired woman from the portrait downstairs; instead, he was startled to find a young woman who couldn’t be more than twenty-two seated in a chair. She wore a white muslin gown with flowers embroidered on the hem, and her light-brown hair was pulled up in a loose tumble of curls. She was lovely in a subtle way. In the far corner, another woman sat demurely in a chair, in a pale light-gray gown with no decoration, her hair in a simple chignon as she sewed patiently on a bit of cloth. She was obviously a lady’s maid. The young woman did not look up from her needlework.
“Mr. Worthing, please sit down,” the lady said and waved to the chair opposite her. A delicate table sat between them, and the red-haired man set a tray of tea upon it.
“Thank you, Sean,” the lady said before he left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.
Ambrose took a seat and watched the lady pour tea and offer him a cup. He wasn’t in the mood, but he didn’t think it would be wise to refuse Lady Society’s hospitality. So he accepted his cup and sipped, waiting for what, he wasn’t exactly sure.
“I read your letter, of course, and I understand you wish to have my help?”
“Er…yes, for Lady Alexandra.”
She smiled. “Indeed. Lady Alexandra has been quite the subject of gossip these last two weeks. As I’m sure you know, I do not repeat tales of that nature in my column. Women have enough to deal with in society these days that we do not need to tear each other apart in smear campaigns,” Lady Society said.
“Yes, exactly,” Ambrose rushed to agree.
“So tell me, Mr. Worthing, why should I champion Lady Alexandra’s cause and fight the stories of her ruination? If talk is to be believed, she has been ruined…in Lord Darlington’s house…in bed…with you.” The lady drew out each of the words, punctuating them delicately as she watched him intently.
Ambrose looked down at his cup of tea, trying to hold himself back from growling in frustration at the entire situation.
“It is true that she was in Darlington’s townhouse with me, but that isn’t the whole story. My lady…” He paused and then sought the words that would sway her. “Lady Alexandra is the finest woman I have ever met. What happened to her wasn’t justice. It was a plot constructed by a man who wanted to do her harm to please his selfish sister. It is a long tale, but I believe you must hear it. Only then will you be able to judge whether my mission to save her reputation is a noble one.”
Lady Society was silent for a long while. The only sound was a little mutter from the lady’s maid when she pricked her finger. The soft little disturbance made Lady Society speak.
“Very well, tell me this tale, Mr. Worthing. Leave no detail out.”
With a sigh and another sip of his tea, Ambrose began speaking.
“I am no gentleman, but that night at White’s when I learned of a man named Gerald Langley’s wager to have Lady Alexandra publicly ruined, I had to intervene…”
He left no detail out, not even the details that would’ve saved his own reputation where Alex was concerned. Lady Society wanted the truth, and if she knew it all, she might become a champion for Alex.
An hour later he was finished with the tale.
“You admit you acted selfishly in pursuing her. And now you are here begging me to expose the truth, even though it will cast aspersions on you?” Lady Society asked.
He nodded. “I’ve never had the best reputation. It’s no loss to ruin it further.”
“Indeed, you are quite notorious, Mr. Worthing, but over the years I’ve seen worse rakehells than you become the best of men and the best of husbands.”
“Husbands?” he queried.
“Yes. I assume that is your desire, that you wish to marry her if we can save Lady Alexandra’s reputation. Am I mistaken?” Lady Society raised one brow in challenge. For such a lovely young woman, she certainly had an imperious, commanding presence. He expected nothing less from the woman who penned such brave columns in the Gazette.
“I would marry her in a heartbeat, but she won’t have me. I am no white knight—I’m just the man who loves her. I …” The words were trapped in his throat.
“You love her desperately, don’t you?” The young woman smiled, her expression sort of soft, almost dreamy.
He swallowed and nodded. “For me, loving her means not eating or drinking and losing sleep over worrying for her and missing the sound of her laugh, the touch of her lips on mine…” He trailed off, hating how foolish he sounded. “I cannot live without her, but if I must, I need to know she’s happy, that her reputation and future are secure so that a man worthy of her will find her someday.”
The young woman smiled, her eyes glittering with a hint of tears, and she glanced at the young lady’s maid in the corner. The maid had stop threading the needle and slowly turned to look at them. Ambrose was startled by the intelligence in the maid’s sparkling brown eyes. She glanced between him and her mistress before she set the needlework aside and stood. She spoke to her mistress in a surprisingly familiar tone.
“Thank you, Gillian. I believe it’s time we let Mr. Worthing know who the real Lady Society is.”
Ambrose blinked and stood in amazement as the maid came over to him and took a cup of tea that the woman called Gillian offered her.
“Here, my lady.” Gillian blushed and started to vacate the seat, but the maid gently urged her to sit.
“I am sorry for the ruse, Mr. Worthing, but it is critical to keep my identity secret, you see. This is my maid, Gillian. I am the true Lady Society.” The woman dressed as the lady’s maid was watching his bafflement with amusement.
“And you are…” He still couldn’t guess.
With a secretive little smile she leaned into him and whispered her name and made him swear to never reveal it to anyone upon pain of the death of his reputation if he betrayed her identity.
“I’m sure you know of my brother?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I know of him, have seen him at some of the balls and other engagements in town, but I have not been introduced formally.” He was a member of White’s, and he knew that Lady Society’s brother was a member of Berkley’s club. “If you are Lady Society, then you write about him and the League of Rogues, I believe they are called, aren’t they?”
Lady Society giggled, the sound pleasant rather than irritating.
“I do indeed. My brother and his friends are in desperate need of matchmaking. I tend to give them a little societal nudge when I see fit.”
Ambrose chuckled. “You challenge them, don’t you?” He read the articles—everyone had. It was clear Lady Society liked the L
eague of Rogues, but she also teased them mercilessly.
“I do, bless them.” She sipped her tea, still smiling. “Now, I’ve heard your case, and I accept the project. I shall draft a story regarding this wager and have it in the Gazette in a few days. I shall also plead your case for you, and God willing, Lady Alexandra will see you for the reformed rake that you are and make a husband out of you.”
The relief he felt was only slightly lessened by his fear that what he’d done to Alex was unforgivable. Still, she deserved to have it all exposed, and maybe then she might forgive him. He would love her no matter what, even if he spent the next sixty years watching her and loving her from afar. As long as she’s happy.
Chapter 16
Alex sat on a stone bench in the middle of the garden in her father’s house in Lothbrook, holding a book in her hands. It was a rather boring collection of philosophical essays, but she wasn’t really reading it. She was staring at the pages until the letters blurred together, and she was lost in thoughts and memories of Ambrose.
Since she had left London, she had expected to feel less pain, but she hadn’t. The wounds in her chest, although invisible, were still there, raw, and as exposed as they had been the morning she’d discovered Ambrose’s betrayal.
She blinked back tears and glanced toward the house when her father came out, her mother on his arm. The two had become closer after Alex’s ruination. She supposed it was a silver lining to the host of gray clouds thundering above her head.
“Alex…” her father began, his tone hesitant. He glanced at her mother, and she gave him a nod of encouragement.
“Papa?” she queried, a little nervous seeing her father hesitate to do or say anything. It was a rare sight, which meant he had something important on his mind.
“The post arrived from London today. I think you should read the Quizzing Glass Gazette, the Lady Society column in particular.” He held out the paper to her, and she took it. She didn’t miss another look that passed between her parents before they returned inside.
Alex held the paper for a long moment, wondering what could have drawn both of her parents outside to deliver it. It had to be something terrible. She unfolded the paper and flipped page by page until she found the Lady Society column. Her heart stopped, and she began to read.
The Quizzing Glass Gazette, the Lady Society column:
Lady Society has much to say today and has a tale of heroes and villains and maidens fair, and even maidens not so fair.
As all of London has been buzzing with the scandal around the ruination of Lady Alexandra Rockford, Lady Society sees fit to put rumors to rest and champion the ruined lady. So, you ask, what truth shall I shed on this matter?
Lady Alexandra was ruined. Yes. That is certain. But it is not her shame, nor by her own choice that such an event came about. No, the villains are the ones to blame. And who are these men? The gentlemen of White’s club who created a wager in a betting book. One identifiable man is George Langley. He initiated the wager out of a desire to please his sister, Mrs. Hilary Clifford, who married Mr. Marshall Clifford, a man who previously had an understanding with Lady Alexandra. So what, pray tell, does Lady Society see in all this? It seems Mrs. Clifford’s jealousy of a past woman in her husband’s life set her brother on an evil crusade to destroy Lady Alexandra.
Surprisingly, not one man in White’s chose to defend Lady Alexandra. Instead, Mr. Ambrose Worthing, a known rakehell, volunteered. He was acquainted with Lord Rockford and knew the depths that the men in the club would go to for a five-thousand-pound wager. He believed he could spare the innocent lady pain where these other villains would not. But as fate would have it, the rake fell for the country beauty. If only she could love him back, but no, the ton has shown its cruel side, and we have turned our backs on the innocent woman in all of this. If you wish to do as Lady Society suggests, you will give the cut direct to Gerald Langley, his sister, and anyone who defends them. It is my personal desire to see Lady Alexandra become the most sought-after guest at every social engagement of the season. We who have failed to defend her honor owe her nothing less.
Perhaps, if we are lucky, we might find a way to help mend Mr. Worthing’s broken heart, because as I have always said, reformed rakes make the best husbands, and I believe Lady Alexandra deserves the best.
Alex had to read the column two more times before she could admit she even believed what she had read wasn’t some elaborate wild dream. Finally, she folded the paper up and walked back into the house, hands trembling. She found her parents in the drawing room. Her mother was seated at one of the small reading tables in the corner, sorting through a massive stack of letters. When she noticed Alex, she smiled.
“Alex, dear, these are for you. They came with the morning copy of the Gazette.”
“What —” She halted herself and stared at the stack of letters, remembering Lady Society’s urging to make Alex a guest at all social events. Surely these all weren’t for her…
“You’ve been invited to every major engagement in London for the rest of the season.” Her mother seemed utterly delighted, but none of that mattered to Alex, and her father seemed to notice.
“He hasn’t written, Alex,” her father said softly.
She glanced his way, knowing what he meant. He being Ambrose. Her heart gave a weak thump in her chest.
“He hasn’t written because he’s staying at Darby House. Perdita wrote to your mother two days ago, informing us of his arrival, just in case he attempted to pay a call to you while he’s in Lothbrook. I thought you’d be interested to know that…” Her father trailed off, hesitating.
Ambrose was staying at Perdita’s? Alex reeled at the thought of him being so close.
“You wouldn’t send him away or…” she asked her father carefully. He glanced down at the book he’d been reading, his cheeks flushed a ruddy color.
“Papa,” she said in a tone that she knew he would recognize as a warning.
“Alex, my dear,” he said with a sigh. “I was hoping, well, that things might work out. I read the article by Lady Society, and it makes sense. He was a good lad, and he’s a fine young man. I was furious about his pretense for coming here, but…if he came, I would not send the lad away. Not if there was some chance that…” He shot a look at her mother, silently pleading with her to help him.
“Alex, what your father is not saying, but someone should, is that sometimes catching a man is not done by conventional means. Take your father, for instance—he might never have married me if I hadn’t lured him into the garden the night of our third ball together. He—”
Alex covered her mouth to stop a laugh when her father stumbled to his feet and interrupted his wife.
“Point is, I’m ready to forgive the lad, but the question is, are you?”
Was she?
Alex still held the Quizzing Glass Gazette in her hands, and Lady Society’s words were tumbling over and over inside her head.
“I don’t…I don’t know.” It was the honest truth. She knew her heart wanted to forgive him, and her body still belonged to him in ways she didn’t understand, but her mind wanted answers and time to think before she agreed risk her heart again. Instead, he was there in Lothbrook. So close. She could happen upon him on her daily stroll through the meadows. She could meet him while shopping with her mother in the village. She couldn’t go anywhere without the possibility that he could also be there, and she wasn’t sure if she could live her life that way. What would she say to him? What did she even want to say? They had parted ways when her ruination had been imminent, and she’d vowed never to marry him. There was a huge part of her that was still furious with him for what he’d done. But after reading Lady Society’s article, she realized that the situation had been as dire as Darlington and Ambrose had tried to tell her it was. Men in the clubs wouldn’t have stopped coming after her, even if she had been married. Married ladies could still suffer public ruination, after all.
He had said he’d wished to mar
ry her, but had that been an offer derived from pity for her situation or guilt at having caused it? She didn’t want a man to marry her for either of those reasons. She wanted a man to marry her because he couldn’t live one more minute of his life without her. Was it so wrong to want a man who loved her desperately? If she assumed Ambrose did in fact love her and had wanted to marry her for that reason, she had stoutly refused him. A sensible man would have honored her wishes at the time, and he might have hardened his heart to her. The thought made her stomach churn, and she pressed a palm to her abdomen.
What if he had moved on? Surely he had his pick of women and wouldn’t wait around for her to decide if she could trust her broken heart in his hands for a second time. He was a rake, after all, and they had plenty of women they could turn to, as charming men always did. But her heart insisted that he wouldn’t, that what had transpired between them had been different for him than with any other woman.
Is it my vanity that believes such nonsense? Or is my heart so foolish that it has convinced me I was special to him, just as he was to me?
“No one is requiring you to marry him,” her father said. “But I thought you’d want to know he was nearby. A man who isn’t madly in love would not be waiting at Darby House for you. Trust me.” Her father chuckled. “Mrs. Darby is not what single young men frequently choose for company, not when she has been husband-hunting for her own daughter. Why don’t you take a walk, think on it? You know how I feel about fresh air for one’s constitution.” He puffed up proudly, which made her mother giggle.
“Walk? She doesn’t need to walk. What she needs is to march up to Darby House and catch that young man in a parson’s mousetrap, is what. We can’t let him run back to London, not when Alex could be married before the year is out.”
“Dear,” her father intoned gently, with a great patience he had perfected over nearly three decades of being married to his wife, “she’s not going to rush this. It’s her heart, her life. Marriage is a serious business, and she ought to make sure she’s ready to forgive Worthing and give him a second chance.” He turned back to her. “Take a walk,” he encouraged.