“It is always amazing with you,” he said.
Letty responded by standing on tiptoe and placing her lips on his, nipping softly at his lower lip. “And truly, it is all for you,” she said.
Phillip felt himself begin to harden again, and, when Letty reached down to grasp his length in her hand, he shook his head. “We must not,” he said. “Not here. Where are the children?”
“They are napping; they were tired after playing in the park. And I have also been playing, and yet I don’t feel the need for a nap,” teased Letty. “No one will know,” she continued, her voice full of temptation.
“God, I wish I could have you in a bed,” rasped Phillip.
Letty dimpled. “And why not?” she answered. “Mine is just upstairs.”
Phillip quivered, but sought for his reason. “The servants might see us,” he protested.
“Nellie and Violet, unless they are a great deal stupider than I think they are, are quite aware that you are a great deal more to me than a friend,” said Letty. She smiled as he gave her a faintly scandalized look. “What, do I shock you? Come, Phillip, you have taught me so much already. I would also like to have you in a—in my—bed.”
She gently tucked his stirring penis back into his trousers, buttoning the placket a bit haphazardly. She then tucked her breast back into the bodice of her dress and held out her hand to him. “Shall we?” she asked.
Mesmerized, Phillip took her hand. He had thought Letitia to be an eager pupil, but he was beginning to suspect that she might now have something to teach him. He allowed her to lead him to the door, which she cracked open, peering out in to the hallway. “There’s no one here,” she said. “Come.”
They crept out into the hall, Letty stifling giggles with one hand, and they moved quickly to the staircase. “The third one from the bottom squeaks,” she breathed, her voice soft in his ear, and then they mounted the stairs in silence. At the top she paused, looking in both directions, and then led him to a door, which she pushed open. Letty’s boudoir, all white and blue, with sunlight streaming through the lacy curtains, opened before him, and she led him in, swiftly shutting the door behind them.
“There, you see?” she said. “No one will bother us here.”
Phillip grasped her around the waist and tumbled her onto the bed, his heart curiously light.
Letitia had a great deal to think about when Phillip had departed more than hour later. She could not regret that he had returned, or what had passed between them, but she acknowledged to herself that she had become far too reliant on Mr. Markham’s presence. The contrast between the handsome solicitor and her tiresome suitor the bishop could not be greater, and it dawned upon her how much she had come to rely on Mr. Markham, not only for his inventive lovemaking, but also his amusing conversation and calm good sense.
But Mr. Markham made her feel emotions she had never felt toward a man she was not related to: happy and rather giddy, and certainly not like a widow with two children. She pressed a hand to her lips. He made her feel, she realized, rather as she had when she was first engaged to Alfred.
“Oh no,” she murmured. Then she shook her head. This was nonsense. Mr. Markham was a diversion, and it was foolish of her to imagine that she had any such feelings towards him. She was simply grateful for his companionship, his affection for her children, and his attentions to her in her drawing room -and her bedroom - after tea. She must be lonely indeed if she fancied herself feeling strong emotions towards a man just because he was kind to her. She was quite sure she was nothing but a diversion for him. After all, he was certain to find a suitable woman to marry sometime soon.
“I will have dinner with Francis and Isobel,” she said out loud. “I have shut myself away too much and now I am having foolish ideas as a result.” She nodded. Staying busy would doubtless put these sentimental thoughts out of her head.
Chapter 22
The evening after Isobel met the bishop at Letty’s home, Lord and Lady Exencour were to attend the opera. As their carriage rattled through the streets of London, Lady Exencour turned to her husband.
“I visited Letty this afternoon,” she said.
“And how is Lady Morgan faring?” asked Lord Exencour.
“Quite well. I think Kensington suits her perfectly, though I must say I should be terribly bored. The children are thriving and Letitia looks remarkably beautiful. She has lost that pinched look she had after Alfred died.”
“He’s been dead for months now, and it’s not as though she ever had much to mourn. By now the shock and distress must be mitigated and with the worst of her financial distress behind her she likely looks forward to a brighter future,” observed Lord Exencour.
“I think so indeed. And only imagine, Francis! She has a suitor!” exclaimed Isobel.
“A suitor? Did you finally manage to introduce her to Phillip?” teased her husband.
Isobel laughed. “No, I did not, more’s the pity. Eynsford would be vastly preferable to this fellow. He is a bishop, no less, and very pleased with himself. He is a school fellow of Bainstall’s, and, while he is not as cold as my lord, he is every bit as foolish and self-important.”
“He sounds dreadful,” agreed Lord Exencour. “You do not mean to tell me that Letitia is encouraging him?”
“Not at all,” said Isobel. “But he is a very difficult man to discourage, apparently. He seems to think Letitia must feel very lucky to be courted by a gentleman of his circumstances and station and harbors no doubts that she will marry him.”
“Then I imagine he will find the outcome something of a disappointment,” said Lord Exencour. “I suppose Letitia will send him on his way soon enough.”
“Yes, I am sure she will, and yet it is very vexing for her,” said Isobel. “She cannot refuse to marry him until he asks, and until then she must tolerate his presence, for he absolutely refuses to believe she is not entertaining his suit. This will only serve to confirm her suspicions of noble gentlemen: first Alfred is a cad, then her cousin is oppressive, and now this bishop is insensitive. It is altogether too bad.”
“You should see if you can entice her to go out in company a little more,” observed Lord Exencour. “That would surely be unexceptionable now that Alfred has been dead six months. Perhaps she could attend a concert with us, or some such thing. It would keep her mind off her bishop, certainly, and mayhap she will even meet someone she prefers.”
Isobel looked thoughtful. “I have had the same notion, and I pressed her to come to dinner sometime soon. I think it would be a very good thing if she were to go out a bit. She has apparently met a solicitor and become quite friendly with him. She thinks highly of him and asks his advice on many topics, and while I am sure he is most respectable, it would not do for people to suspect he is paying too much attention to her. If she were to have more of a social life and a few other callers she might not feel the need to rely on him so.”
“A solicitor?” asked Lord Exencour. “You have not mentioned this before, I believe?”
“No,” agreed Isobel, “and that worries me as well. It seems she has known him some time and has not told me of him. Letitia was not wont to keep such secrets from me.”
“What, do you suspect Letty of engaging in an illicit affaire?” asked Lord Exencour in surprise. “That hardly seems to be in her usual style.”
“Oh no, not at all,” said Isobel. “I am simply curious as to what he is like; Letitia does not give her trust easily. I must get her to introduce him to me. I am very curious to see what sort of man Letitia feels she can trust.”
“What is his name?” asked Lord Exencour. “Perhaps our man of business knows of him.”
Isobel thought for a moment. “Mr. Phillip Markham, I believe she said.”
“I will find out if anyone knows of him,” said Lord Exencour. “But you should not worry; I doubt Letitia is much concerned with him,” he said. “It hardly sounds as though their friendship has reached any extraordinary level of intimacy.”
&n
bsp; “You are right, my dear,” said Isobel. “I am doubtless worrying over nothing. Still, it will do no harm if we encourage Letitia to go about a bit more. I will be so happy to have her company again.”
By this time the opera had been reached, and in the bustle of alighting from the coach, entering the building, greeting their friends, and making their way to their box, all thoughts of Letitia were banished. The opera itself was not a success, but the audience was highly fashionable, and much amusement could be gained from studying the ladies’ toilettes and surveying the other boxes for acquaintances. In the interval Lord Eynsford came to the Exencour’s box to converse.
“Phillip!” exclaimed Lord Francis. “What a pleasure. It has been some time since I have seen you at White’s or driving in the park.”
“Yes, I have been somewhat absent lately,” agreed the Marquess. “I have had some matters to attend to that have involved spending considerable time with my man of business.”
“I’ve missed you,” said Lord Exencour. “It sometimes seems as though sensible conversation is the hardest thing to come by in London. Only yesterday I was buttonholed by young Charles Worthington, who nearly caused me to expire of ennui. He was wearing the most extraordinary suit--it was made very inexpensively and resembled something a superior clerk might wear. He claimed you had been seen sporting just such a suit and it was now all the crack.”
A look of amusement appeared in Lord Eynsford’s eyes. “How remarkable,” he said. “Worthington claimed I was dressing like a man of business? I did have a new coat made, but I imagine Weston would not be complimented to hear it so described.”
Lord Exencour laughed. “No, I think not. I could not imagine where he had gotten this information, but he was quite serious. I suppose we can now expect all the young sprigs of fashion to go about dressed very badly for some time now.”
Eynsford took a pinch of snuff with an air, glancing down at his impeccably cut coat. “I certainly hope they do not tell everyone that they are emulating me,” he said plaintively. “I can conceive of nothing that might be more damaging to my reputation and that of my valet. Boothby would never forgive me.”
“If the trend continues, perhaps I will have one made for myself,” said Lord Exencour with a laugh. “Surely you will refer me to your tailor?”
Lord Eynsford bowed. “With great good will,” he said. He was much amused at the thought of the young gentlemen of London copying his mode of dress, but he was also annoyed that he had been seen and recognized. The masquerade was becoming perilous; it only needed now for someone to see him in Kensington Gardens or in Lady Morgan's company for the mischief to be done. Still, he did not want his friendship with Lady Morgan to end. He would have to think of a way to reveal his identity without alarming her.
“Do you know a solicitor named Markham, by any chance?” asked Lord Exencour.
Lord Eynsford started visibly. He directed a sharp look at his friend, but Exencour’s face was empty of all but mild curiosity.
“I am sorry,” said the Marquess. “My thoughts were still with clothing. What was the name again?”
“Markham,” repeated Lord Exencour.
“That doesn’t sound familiar to me, but then, I am acquainted with very few solicitors,” said Lord Eynsford. “Is there some reason you think I might know him?”
“I was merely curious,” said Lord Exencour. “It seems Lady Morgan has made a friend of him, and Isobel is, naturally, protective of her. I hope to find someone who knows of him so that we can be sure of his respectability.”
“Markham,” repeated Lord Eynsford. “No, I am afraid I do not know him. My man of business deals with my legal affairs, so I don’t often come into contact with solicitors.”
“Nor do I,” said Lord Exencour. “I will have to check with mine, and, of course, Isobel’s. Mr. Askworth has practiced law in this city many years; I am sure he will have heard of this man.”
“Are you so concerned?” asked the Marquess. “Surely Lady Morgan would not befriend someone who might harm her?”
“I imagine there is nothing in it at all,” said Lord Exencour. “However, I do feel some obligation to protect Lady Morgan, who I consider a great friend, from someone who might be attempting to use her to his advantage. I merely wish to be satisfied that all is well.”
“I will be seeing my solicitor tomorrow,” volunteered Lord Eynsford. “I could speak to him for you, and save you the trouble of searching out this fellow.”
“How generous of you, Phillip. But it is not necessary; I would be loathe to put you out.”
“I have already made an appointment with the man, and this will take no special effort,” persisted Lord Eynsford. “It will be a pleasure to render a service to Lady Exencour. You must remember that I have some little interest in Lady Morgan. I would also like to be easy in my mind.”
Lord Exencour gave him a shrewd look. He knew Lord Eynsford to be a thoughtful friend, but his interest in this topic seemed extreme. “Thank you, Phillip,” he said. There was a slight pause. “Markham,” said Lord Exencour again. “That is not unlike your own family name, Masham. And the fellow’s first name is also Phillip. How very odd.”
“Odd, indeed,” said Lord Eynsford, looking away from Francis' inquiring gaze. “But that will insure that I do not forget the name. I feel sure a man with such a pleasant name must be respectable and cannot pose a danger to Lady Morgan. How does she otherwise?”
“All seems to be well, barring the unwelcome attentions of a bishop,” said Lord Exencour. “It seems Lady Morgan is being courted.”
“Indeed?” said Lord Eynsford. “Surely that is somewhat unusual so soon after her husband’s death?”
“The gentleman in question has apparently arranged matters with Lady Morgan’s cousin, and seems to feel the issue is settled. The only fly in the ointment appears to be Lady Morgan herself, who sees fit to find fault with the bishop,” said Lord Exencour. “Bainstall does not credit her with a mind of her own, I fear.”
The marquess fought down the urge to make a rather strong comment on the meddling ways of Baron Bainstall. “How unfortunate,” he said. “I am sure Lady Morgan will extricate herself, however.”
“Certainly,” responded Lord Exencour. “Let us hope that legal assistance is not required in the matter,” he continued, giving Eynsford a quizzical look.
The marquess refused to rise to the bait, however, merely responding with a look of blank surprise. “Unless Lady Morgan has given the bishop extreme reason to believe his suit has prospered I hardly think a breach of promise suit likely. How could she need legal assistance in dealing with her suitor?”
They were now joined by Lady Exencour, who smiled prettily on Lord Eynsford before turning to her husband with a censorious look.
“Fie on you, Francis, for abandoning me to Richard Pakenham. He has been droning on these ten minutes and I am bored to tears,” she said.
Lord Exencour smiled at her. “He is so obviously enamored of you, my dear, that I could not bring myself to ruin his pleasure by intruding my husbandly presence.”
“What is the good of being married, I ask you, if not to keep unwanted beaux away?” asked Isobel. “You really must perform your duties more ably, Francis. I am sure that the two of you have had a vastly more interesting conversation than I, and all because you so cruelly abandoned me to Mr. Pakenham.”
“We have been discussing Lady Morgan’s situation,” said Lord Exencour. “Eynsford is visiting his solicitor tomorrow and has kindly offered to speak to him about the mysterious Mr. Markham. I am sure he will be able to bring us reassuring news.” He directed an inquiring look at the marquess, who looked somewhat discomfited.
“How kind of you, my lord,” said Isobel. “You will think I am very silly, but I will be pleased to have my worries put aside.”
“I appreciate your concern for your friend,” said the marquess, and, although he meant the words, he could not help thinking that it would be easier for him if Lady Exen
cour were less devoted to Lady Morgan.
Lord Eynsford did not stay for the second act, but instead returned to his home, where he immediately repaired to the library and poured himself a brandy. The situation was becoming perilous, he reflected. He had been seen dressed in his disguise, and, if he guessed correctly, Lord Exencour might even have divined his secret. While Francis seemed inclined to take it all in good part, many others would surely not, and Exencour’s good will would last only as long as Letitia’s well-being at his hands was not in question.
He did not want to distress Lady Exencour, for whom he had real respect and affection, and he most particularly did not desire to cause problems for Lady Morgan. If someone else were to discover his secret, tongues would doubtless begin to wag and the reputation that would suffer most would be the lady's. A widow of only a few months, in straitened circumstances, seen to be encouraging one of the greatest catches on the Marriage Mart, would doubtless be grist for many a mill. He sighed deeply, and Foxer once again approached to offer comfort.
“I am a fool,” he said to the dog, who looked at him sympathetically with his liquid brown eyes, but did not seem inclined to contradict him.
The marquess sat back in his chair and gazed into the fire, his fingers gently tousling the dog’s ears. “I will have to visit Lady Morgan tomorrow and tell her the truth,” he said. “It would not do for someone else to discover this masquerade and embarrass her, and Francis would not be happy if I continued on this path.”
Foxer yawned and Phillip chuckled. “You think I’ve made a hash of this, and you are right,” he said. “She will understand though, will she not? Now that she knows me so well, she will not mind so much. There is no reason we cannot continue to bring each other pleasure, is there?”
The dog sighed and put his head on his paws. The marquess sighed as well and downed his brandy.
Chapter 23
The next morning the Marquess arose unusually early and spent considerable time pondering his next step. Should he visit Lady Morgan dressed as Mr. Markham or as the Marquess of Eynsford? To appear on her doorstep as the marquess would make the explanation of the matter easier; he would no longer be able to dissemble and a confession would be forced upon him. But this might make Lady Morgan uncomfortable, he reasoned. It would be better, perhaps, to appear as Mr. Markham and to break the news gently. She might be more likely to still see him as her friend, for his appearance would remain familiar, while the marquess would necessarily be a strange and perhaps forbidding figure.
An Indecent Charade: Letitia's After Dark Regency Romance Page 14