The Lady Who Loved Him

by Christi Caldwell

  The butler glanced back and forth between the couple and then slipped off, allowing them a semblance of privacy.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

  A small frown puckered the place between her brows. She came back over. “What?”

  Leo dropped his voice. “I allowed you to believe… something that was not wholly true.” He glanced about. When he ascertained they were alone, he dropped his voice to a hushed whisper. “I haven’t been unfaithful. I just… wanted you to know that,” he finished lamely. For reasons he didn’t understand, and didn’t care to explain, he needed her to know he’d been faithful—at least for now.

  Though, since she’d stumbled—quite literally—into his life, he’d not given thought to anyone… but her.

  His hands shook, and he looped them at his back in a bid to steady them.

  Chloe smiled. “Shall we?” She held her fingers out, and he hurriedly supplied his elbow.

  They resumed their walk through the Ladies of Hope. A natural calm overtook him. A semblance of order was restored with all somehow… right.

  It is because of her.

  An invisible weight slammed into his solar plexus, nearly knocking him off-balance. What madness was this? He liked his wife. Surprisingly enjoyed her company… but he’d never before needed anyone to maintain order over his logic-driven world.

  “Breathe, Leo.” Her soft whisper carried up to his ears. “It is merely a small gathering of respectable families.”

  She’d sensed his unrest and wrongly attributed it to their presence in this place.

  Breathe, he reminded himself.

  It was vital advice. He repeated it in his mind as a mantra.

  To focus on something, anything, other than the tumult inside, he took in their surroundings.

  “It is magnificent, is it not?” she murmured as they strolled down another corridor. This one’s walls were lined with bucolic paintings done in cheerful shades of pale greens, pinks, and blues.

  Of its own volition, his gaze traversed a path over the delicate planes of her face. “Magnificent,” he murmured.

  “It is her second one,” she continued in animated tones, excitement coloring her words. “There are more than thirty young girls cared for at Philippa’s first institution, and now there will be forty more here. Girls of all ages. Some just babes, and others seven and ten years.” Her expression darkened. “They’ve been cast out because Society has deemed them unfit by their standards.”

  As she spoke, Leo slowed his steps, pausing to finally truly take in his surroundings and contemplate the institution.

  “Here, come with me.” His wife took him by the hand and tugged him off in the opposite direction.

  The servant held a hand up. “Uh… the ceremony, my lady, is this…”

  Ignoring the older fellow, Chloe urged Leo on until they reached a doorway that hung open. She held a finger to her lips, urging him to silence.

  Leo studied the cheerfully bright room. Six young girls, mayhap three and ten years of age, sat around on pink, upholstered tub chairs arranged in a neat circle and better suited to a lord and lady’s formal parlor. Each child held a book.

  “Mary Wollstonecraft,” Chloe mouthed.

  The girls spoke animatedly to one another. There was an organized chaos to what was ensuing. An older woman in steel-gray skirts looked on, as more of an observer, only periodically pausing to direct the discourse.

  He furrowed his brow. The makeshift classroom bore little resemblance to the staid and silent rooms he and other dutiful English boys and girls sat within.

  Chloe motioned for Leo to follow. He gave one last curious look back at the gathered children and fell into step.

  “They hold Socratic circles,” he noted as they made their return to the still waiting butler.

  His wife shot her eyebrows up. “You’re familiar with them.”

  “Only insofar as I read of them.”

  “Of course,” Chloe interjected with an emphatic nod. “Because dutiful English boys and girls are hand-fed information as fact and expected to believe it. Here, my sister has encouraged those who Society would scuttle away to use their minds and think.” She tapped a gloved fingertip to her forehead. “And, just as importantly, to challenge.”

  Prior to this instance, the only matter of relevance surrounding the Ladies of Hope Institution had been the role it served in crafting a façade the ton could believe.

  His existence had solely been focused on hedonistic pursuits so that the world saw only that. And he was able to conduct his investigations freely outside the scope of suspicion. Ultimately, however, the Brethren had always been his focus. Now, he stared in a whole new light at the world Chloe’s sister created here. Saw that there were others who made equally, no less important, contributions to the world.

  Understanding dawned at last.

  “Terms six and ten,” he murmured.

  Chloe stared up at him, puzzled.

  Leo shot a glance back, motioning to the classrooms they’d just abandoned. “Term six: I am free to conduct my time at any charitable venture I deem important. I am also free to use my funds as donations to those unstated organizations. And term ten: I am free to take employment. It’s this place, is it not?” She wished to teach at her sister’s school. “This is the reason for those provisions in our contract.” It now made sense.

  Chloe lifted her shoulders in a little shrug. “Not this place, but another.”

  So that was what she intended after their time as a proper, respectable couple came to an end and they went on to live separate lives. An image slipped in of a time in the not-so-distant future when she’d go off and he’d resume his solitary existence. A hollow emptiness carved a spot in his chest. “Why not this one?” he made himself ask through the tumult.

  “My sister has committed to hiring young women who’ve known like struggles, ones who cannot find employment.” Chloe joined her hands and briefly studied the interconnected digits. “It is my sister-in-law Jane’s establishment I wish to oversee—Mrs. Munroe’s. It is a finishing school for ladies whose circumstances have not been the kindest. They have been without a steady headmistress. and I’d like to fulfill that role.”

  So that was where she’d soon go, not off with a lover or to travel abroad through Europe, but to a finishing school… in some part of England. The hollowness grew as their inevitable severance morphed into a new reality that he could see laid out before him.

  The butler brought them to a stop outside a great hall. Its double doors gaped wide, and an impressive gathering of guests could be seen. An odd mingling of small children and fancily clad patrons interacted throughout the rooms.

  “Chloe!” The Marchioness of Guilford’s happy cry went up. From where she stood across the room with her husband, brother, and sister-in-law, the kindly woman waved.

  Leo stiffened as his new family started through the crowd, fast approaching.

  Chloe took a step to meet her siblings.

  “Chloe?” Leo shot a hand out, lightly collecting her shoulder and forcing her back.

  She looked up, a question in her eyes.

  “Why not one of your own?”

  Chloe shook her head. “What?”

  “You’ve spoken of your sister’s and sister-in-law’s establishments and the visions they have, but what of your dream? With your funds and cleverness, you can also create something of your own.”

  Her lips parted, and a whispery sigh slipped out. “I didn’t… I…”

  “Chloe!” The warm, welcoming voice of his sister-in-law piped in, shattering the moment. “Lord Tennyson.”

  Chloe’s family joined them—the Marquess and Marchioness of Guilford and the Marquess and Marchioness of Waverly.

  His wife’s brother glowered openly at him.

  “Lady Philippa, Lady Jane,” Leo murmured with a bow. “Gentlemen,” he greeted tightly.

  A stiff silence fell among the group.

  His wife slid her fingers onto hi
s sleeve in a tacit mark of her support. When had been the last time anyone had come to his defense? Had stated for the world that they stood beside him? Emotion stuck in his throat.

  Waverly was the first to break the silence. “Tennyson.” He held a hand out.

  Leo eyed that offering for a moment and then shook the other man’s hand.

  “Come, come. Join us,” Lady Philippa encouraged and, linking her arm with Chloe’s and Jane’s, led the way through the guests, leaving the gentlemen to follow.

  Chloe shot a glance back in Leo’s direction. Worry creased her delicate features.

  He flashed a smile for her benefit and waved her on.

  “Chloe says you wish to be respectable and honorable,” his brother-in-law said after the women had gone. “Though I have my doubts, I’d invite you to join me for drinks at White’s.” Waverly’s mouth hardened. “That is, if you’re capable of visiting the club without being delivered a proper thrashing by an irate husband?”

  “Gabriel,” the Marquess of Guilford warned.

  Drinks with his brother-in-law, one of Polite Society’s stiffest, stodgiest lords. All was progressing as hoped.

  He smiled. “Thank you for that gracious invitation,” he drawled.

  “We’re welcoming you into the family, Tennyson,” Guilford explained.

  “Why, thank you. That is certainly unexpected. Appreciated,” and beneficial, “but—”

  “But be warned,” the other man interrupted. “You hurt her, and one of us is going to kill you.”

  “We’ll all vie for the privilege,” Waverly said crisply.

  “Chloe would likely slay me herself, saving you all the trouble, if I did.” When he did. Ultimately, he’d hurt her. He hurt everyone. Why, his first act upon entering this world had been to take his mother’s life. Leo sought his wife, finding her at the front of the room speaking with her sister and several young children.

  As if feeling his focus on her, Chloe glanced over. “Come,” she mouthed, gesturing.

  He lifted his hand, wanting to join, feeling like an intruder.

  A small girl in white skirts tugged at his wife’s hand, tearing Chloe’s attention away. She sank to a knee beside the child, and with whatever words were uttered, she pulled a wider and wider smile upon the girl’s lips.

  But then, wasn’t that the effect his wife had on people?

  Leo grinned wistfully.

  His skin pricked, and he found both men eyeing him peculiarly.

  “What?” Leo asked defensively, shifting on his feet.

  “Nothing at all,” the other man murmured. “Drinks tomorrow, then,” the marquess offered in what felt like the first true olive branch extended by his in-laws.

  Chapter 22

  For all intents and purposes, Chloe and Leo might as well have been any other respectable couple.

  Nay, rather, more.

  They might as well have been any happy, devoted husband and wife. Through the unveiling of the new establishment, they remained at each other’s side, meeting children, speaking with patrons who arrived to assess the newly resurrected establishment. And when Chloe was called off to see the chambers the young ladies would call home, leaving Leo to his own devices, she found herself restless to return.

  A short while later, Chloe located him in one of the classrooms. Hovering on the edge of the doorway, she freely observed Leo as he spoke to Faith and Violet. By their motions and movements, they were in the throes of a discussion about their last fencing round.

  Something Violet said earned a booming laugh, and he ruffled the top of her niece’s black curls.

  Another portion of Chloe’s heart wiggled free and slipped dangerously outside her grasp.

  “I will admit,” Philippa murmured, joining her in the doorway, “I have been skeptical and fearful of Lord Tennyson’s intentions.”

  Chloe stiffened.

  “But seeing him with Faith and Violet and hearing them speak of the night he visited, I must acknowledge the wrongness in my own prejudices.”

  Yes, everyone had judged Leo—Chloe included—a man who flaunted his indifference at all those opinions. Did he do so in a bid to protect himself? It was as though he embraced the derision. Why? “There is more to him,” Chloe said softly. He might insist otherwise. “I do not say that because I need to see it, nor because I wish to reassure myself that I’ve not made an egregious mistake, but because I see it,” she said to her sister.

  Philippa smiled and called out a greeting. “The children are assembling for desserts. I thought—”

  Faith and Violet squealed and took off running, knocking into Chloe and Philippa in their haste to pass by. Laughing, Philippa hurried after the girls.

  Alone in the newly constructed classrooms, Chloe called out to her husband. “I’ve been looking for you, my lord.”

  Grinning, he strode over. “Alas, my attentions were stolen by two lovely ladies. Two faithless ladies who prefer treats,” he added, pulling a laugh from Chloe.

  “One may say you even enjoyed your first foray into respectability.”

  He set his features in a somber mask. “I’ll deny it to the end of my rakish days.”

  Through the teasing, Chloe was filled with regret that the day had come to an end. Oh, it had been a success, and yet, she’d enjoyed the interlude of pretend. “We should have the carriage called,” she said quietly.

  As they wandered the lengthy halls to the foyer, not another word was spoken.

  Chloe waited off to the side as Leo conversed with one of the footmen. Just then, another set of patrons entered through the massive double doors—the gentleman strikingly handsome and the crimson-haired lady at his side a stunning perfect counterpart. The Earl and Countess of Montfort. The countess had gone from being one of Philippa’s instructors to being a great benefactor.

  The couple froze. Their expressions ran a gamut of surprise, horror, and then outrage.

  Frowning, Chloe searched for—and found—the source of their fury.

  An ashen-faced Leo stared back at the pair, and then a quick grin was firmly back in place. “My lady—”

  The Earl of Montfort lunged. “Not another word,” he thundered.

  The countess cried out and made an ineffectual grab for her husband’s arm.

  Leo took a blow to the chin. Through a resolute strength, he managed to maintain his feet.

  Jerked out of her dazed shock, Chloe went sprinting forward. Holding her palms up, she placed herself between Leo and the earl’s wrath. “Stop,” she cried out.

  Or was that the countess? Everything had become a blur of noise and confusion.

  Fury burned from the earl’s eyes, and for a terrifying moment, she believed he’d knock her down. Palms sweating, Chloe rooted herself to the floor and glowered at him.

  “Chloe,” her husband bit out, making an attempt to push her behind him.

  She fought off his efforts, locked in a silent battle with Lord Montfort.

  “We’re leaving,” the Earl of Montfort seethed.

  “No need, Montfort,” her husband smoothly supplied. “We were just leaving.” Wordlessly, Leo tugged a cloak-less Chloe through the gaping doors and into the London streets.

  Not a word was uttered until they were ensconced in their carriage.

  Leo sat on the opposite bench, his gaze firmly trained on the window at the passing scenery.

  “Well?” Chloe finally shattered the quiet.

  With bored movements, he glanced over. “Well?” he drawled in tones she’d learned early on were false.

  “Are we going to speak about what happened?”

  “No.”

  She dropped her brows. “No?” Did he think they’d say nothing about the fact that another gentleman had dealt him a violent blow at nothing more than a glimpse… and the fact that he’d made no attempt to deflect or fight back?

  Leo reached inside his jacket and withdrew a flask. “Nothing to talk about. Montfort and I used to be friendly, and now we’re not.” He re
moved the stopper.

  Chloe leaned over and plucked the drink from his fingers just as he’d raised the silver flask to his lips. She set it beside her on the bench.

  He frowned and opened his mouth.

  “Do not ask or demand your spirits back.”

  Leo’s lips instantly compressed into a tight line.

  Chloe folded her arms. “What happened?”

  “We had a falling-out.”

  There. At least he hadn’t pretended to misunderstand whom she’d been speaking of. Chloe waited for him to say more.

  And waited.

  Leo hummed the discordant tavern ditty he had broken into at her family’s dinner party.

  As a small girl, she’d had a tenacious tooth that had refused to fall out. The dratted thing had hung by a bare thread, and no amount of wiggling or yanking or pulling had managed to snag it free. Her husband, with his secrets, was very much like that stubborn tooth.

  “Is he the same gentleman who sent you home bloodied two days ago?”

  He gave a brusque nod.

  “And yet, both times you made no attempt to defend yourself.”

  Leo grunted. “You don’t know that.”

  “I know what I saw today, and I know the effects of one lifting one’s fists to defend oneself. I know a single punch will land a man with bruised or cracked knuckles, and yet, yours were not.”

  He brought his eyebrows together. “How does a young lady come to know so much about prizefighting?”

  Chloe faltered as the tables were abruptly and unexpectedly turned. “We’re not talking about me, Leo,” she neatly sidestepped. “We are discussing the history between you and the Earl of Montfort.”

  Her husband wiped a tired hand over his face. “Let it go, Chloe.”

  She shook her head. “No. I will not.”

  The carriage hit a large bump, and she caught the upholstered bench to keep steady.

  “Do you have a history with the countess?” Her question slipped out on a shaky whisper. It was a question that she, in her cowardice, didn’t want an answer to.

  “Don’t do this, Chloe,” Leo entreated, pleading when neither God nor the devil himself could coax a grin that Leo didn’t wish to give.