To Love a Libertine

by LeFey, Liana

  “I saw the pair of you playing chess. How did you fare?”

  Genevieve sniffed and tossed her head. “I won, naturally. Oh, but I am very pleased for you, Eden. He seems a very nice gentleman, despite his reputation.”

  Alarm raced through her. “He is indeed, but why are you pleased for me?”

  “Though he played at table with me, it was plain his mind was elsewhere,” said her friend. “I very much suspect it followed the path his eyes took. They were always on you. He’s besotted with you or I am blind.”

  If Genevieve had noticed such a thing, it surely followed everyone else had, too. Her stepmother would hear of it sooner or later. Despite Catherine being cloistered by a cold, Eden worried it would be the sooner. Servants’ tongues ran faster than a virgin through the midst of a bacchanal. “I cannot say whether that is an accurate observance or not,” she said evasively. “I was surprised to see him here tonight. He is to call Monday, also.”

  Genevieve grinned in delight and whispered, “How very promising! I imagine we shall be planning your wedding before May Day arrives.”

  With good humor, Eden shushed her and the pair entered the ladies drawing room.

  She saw Percy again only once and very briefly at the close while she was with Genevieve and her mother awaiting their carriage. Heart in her throat, she watched as he made his way to her through the crush.

  “I remain your most humble and devoted servant, Miss Lowther.” He bowed, his dark eyes never leaving hers. “And I look to Monday with all anticipation.”

  “As do I.” She dipped a curtsy and tried to remain calm.

  Genevieve and her mother both stared at her as he walked away. So did everyone else around them.

  “If anyone is in doubt of his intentions now, he or she is a fool,” said Genevieve quietly. “Best be ready for Lady Catherine to take your ears off, for Mama will surely send her a note about this encounter.”

  Eden could only nod and try to keep her face from showing her delight.

  It would be worth it.

  …

  Clenching his teeth, Percy stood in the chill air waiting for the clergyman to finish so they could all depart for the warmth of a fire. Thanks to Sotheby’s sudden and untimely death on the night of the Torringtons’ party, his plans for today had all been cast awry. How he wished the old fellow could’ve waited a bit longer before planting himself! At least he’d been able to send Eden an apologetic note and beg leave to call on Wednesday.

  Sotheby’s heir, Tristan, compulsively twisted his mourning ring round and round on his finger, trying unsuccessfully to appear somber. The widowed Lady Sotheby stood by her late husband’s grave, wind whipping the sheer black veil about her face. Every now and again, she would sniffle and raise her kerchief to dab at her eyes. Those present looked on with sympathy and shook their heads.

  Percy knew better. Young Tristan was delighted to take his father’s place as lord and master. His father, though well-intentioned, had held the lad far too firmly beneath his thumb for the last several years. As for Georgina, the only tragedy was it hadn’t happened sooner. Hers had been an arranged marriage. Being seventeen and quite naïve when she’d married Sotheby, she had fallen in love with her distinguished older husband—a decent fellow, but not a man of passion. Immediately following the arrival of his heir a year later, Sotheby, his duty fulfilled, had lost all interest in her. His chief desires were, and always had been, reserved for food, drink, and hunting.

  He could feel her stare. Guilt gnawed at his belly. He’d been deep in his cups the night she’d offered herself to him. Lustful, drunken fool that he was, he’d taken the bait, making a subsequent cuckold of his father’s best friend and a man who’d been good to him for many years. That he wasn’t the first to do so didn’t matter. He ought to have had better sense than to lose inhibition in her presence.

  Nine months later to the day, she’d borne Lillien. The first time he saw the child, he’d known beyond doubt she was his get. The birthmark on her right leg matched the one on his. Georgina had never asked anything of him save his silence, and she’d never revealed his betrayal.

  Sotheby had once more overlooked his wife’s indiscretion and claimed the babe as his own—just as he’d done thrice before when his wife had gotten herself with child by another man. A decent fellow at heart, he’d never treated any of the cuckoos differently than his own son. For that kindness more than anything, he’d earned Percy’s profound and lasting respect.

  A small hand wormed its way into his palm as the first fistful of earth fell onto the casket with a faint rattling noise. Squeezing back gently, he offered little Lilly silent reassurance. Beastly practice, having young children attend funerals. He remembered having nightmares for weeks after every funeral he had attended until he was nearly fourteen.

  Georgina loved her children, but he knew she wouldn’t hesitate to use them to her advantage. He was yet unwed, and though they hadn’t shared a bed since the night Lilly was conceived, he knew if he let her she would make a pawn of the child and attempt to ensnare him. It was a tricky situation, and not one he relished untangling, especially now.

  Eden. Her taste, her smell, her very essence was etched upon him, ingrained in his flesh. Just the thought of her elicited a highly improper rush of vigor to certain parts of his anatomy. He was to have called on her today to begin their courtship. Instead, here he was out in the cold listening to a clergyman carry on about mercy and eternity for what felt like an eternity without any.

  She’d had tea with Sabrina. What secrets had they shared?

  His gaze flicked back to Georgina. He doubted very much that the merry widow would mourn for the requisite period of time, but it would be a good while before she felt safe enough to make any attempt at flouting the rules. If all went well, he would be unavailable for the chase by the time she was allowed to come out of her weeds.

  Beside him, Lilly let out an ominous sniffle.

  Bending, Percy picked her up in his arms. The child clung to him and put her head on his shoulder. She’d barely known the man in the casket, but upset was a contagion that spread easily from adults to children. Damn Georgina for putting her through this! Little girls ought to be in the nursery, not out here with all these dreadful, black-shrouded scarecrows.

  But Georgina would desire above all to appear upright and dutiful. Her child’s tears would be considered a credit to her. Everyone would whisper how awful it was for her to have to deal with her children’s grief as well as her own. She’d be glorified, cast in the role of the tragic heroine heavily burdened by the responsibility and self-sacrifice of motherhood.

  Defying the assembly’s silent, indignant stares, Percy turned and strode off, bearing the child away from the morbid scene. When they’d gone far enough that the words of the ceremony were indistinguishable, he set her down and knelt beside her to look at some flowers growing amid the grass.

  His child was the epitome of sweet innocence. He’d long since determined to secretly settle a sum on her to provide her with a measure of freedom when she came of age. God willing, no one would ever know of her mother’s indiscretion or his folly. If he could manage to arrange it, she would marry well and happily, never knowing the truth of her shameful heritage.

  Briefly, he wondered what Eden would think of such a plan. What she would think of him?

  Heaven only knew what Sabrina had told her. The two women were similar in many ways. Strong-willed. Fearless. Clever. And careful to hide a tender heart. But Eden’s temperament was markedly different. Where Sabrina kept her thoughts and emotions to herself whenever possible, Eden wore hers openly. There was little to no guesswork. One always knew where one stood with her.

  It was refreshing. Too often with women, he’d peeked beneath the outer layer of pretense only to discover more layers of the same. At times, he’d caught himself wondering if the original human being had been buried and suffocated or perhaps even lost entirely. It was a great disappointment to discover the person y
ou thought you liked was, in reality, only a façade.

  A tug on his hand brought him back to the present. Lillien smiled up at him guilelessly, her upset forgotten, and offered him a pretty yellow flower she’d picked. That she’d purloined it from a flowerbed decorating someone’s final resting place was of no consequence to her. Or to him. Smiling back, he tucked it into a buttonhole, admiring the bright splash of yellow against black. It would doubtless be frowned upon by Sotheby’s mourners. He didn’t care. Bollocks to them if they didn’t like it.

  He looked back to where the ceremony progressed. The crowd was beginning to disperse. With great reluctance, he led Lillien back to her mother, who received her with choked thanks and a hopeful look at him from beneath her veil.

  Teeth on edge, Percy bowed and took his leave. The woman really ought to have been on the stage. Her “bereaved” act was almost flawless. Almost.

  On his way home, he dropped in to see Loxdon and learn whether any progress had been made in the search for Abigail. Surely Rowell should have led them to another clue by now.

  “We fear the bastard’s discovered he’s being watched,” said his friend after explaining the man’s disappearance. “He gave us the slip and has been gone now for two days.”

  “Bloody hell.” Percy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is anyone still at the house?”

  “The staff haven’t gone, but you know if we try to talk to any of them he’ll learn of it and make himself scarce. We’re hoping he’s left temporarily and will come back soon.”

  “I hope so, too, for Abigail’s sake. No sign of her, I suppose?”

  “None. I’ll send word the moment Rowell returns.”

  “If—when—he does, I think we should have a private word with him.”

  “I agree. Watching him has afforded us nothing. If he has the girl there or hidden away somewhere else, we need to know it. We need information.”

  “Do you think it worth the risk to confront him?”

  “I think time is running out for the girl, if it’s not already too late.”

  God forbid. “Then we are resolved. Send for me when he shows up.”

  Chapter Nine

  Groaning, Eden scrunched her lids tightly against a sudden, intruding brightness and tried to recapture her dream. It was no use. “George’s gout, Elsie—it cannot yet be eleven,” she grumbled, pulling a pillow over her head to block out the unwelcome light.

  “No, ma’am. ’Tis only ten.”

  “Then what in heaven’s name are you on about? Close the curtains!”

  “I cannot, ma’am. Lady Catherine ordered me to awaken you and tell you she wishes to see you with all possible haste.”

  Eden uttered another groan into her pillow. Damn. It was too early to face her stepmother’s wrath. Half an hour later, still yawning, she poked her head into her stepmother’s bedchamber.

  “Good morning.” She smiled as though nothing was amiss. “You are feeling much improved, I hope?”

  Catherine tossed the paper she’d been reading down on the quilt beside her. “Did I not clearly state that any and all interaction between Lord Tavistoke and yourself would be handled according to my terms and conditions?”

  “You did.”

  “Then you may explain to me why you were seen much together throughout the Torringtons’ party—and why you made no mention of it upon your arrival home.”

  “You were ill, it was late, and I did not wish to disturb you.”

  “My illness had nothing to do with it. You knew very well what my reaction would be.”

  “Despite what you think, I had nothing to do with his presence there,” Eden answered quickly. “I knew nothing of it until I saw him.”

  “I’m fully aware he was unexpected. But no one is going to refuse an unmarried marquess entrée, Eden, especially not a woman with three unwed daughters.”

  “He was invited,” said Eden. “Lady Torrington herself told me after dinner that she was thrilled he’d decided to attend. I stood and listened to her tell of how his secretary had mistakenly declined her invitation and of how he was unaware of the error until that evening. She said he was quite mortified.”

  Her stepmother’s bark of derisive laughter set off a fit of coughing. “What rubbish!” she finally wheezed. “If he did receive an invitation, I suspect he himself declined it and only changed his mind upon learning of your intent to be there. I suspect he also knew I was indisposed.”

  “How could he have possibly known such a thing?”

  “News of my illness had already reached the far side of London by late Friday evening,” said Catherine. “I know this because I received a note on Saturday morning from Mrs. Ellingsworth offering her best wishes for my quick recovery. If she knew, then it is entirely possible he did as well. Servants talk, especially when they’ve been drinking or offered coin in exchange for information. I’ve little doubt but that Tavistoke is well informed regarding the goings on in this house.”

  Eden let out an incredulous gasp. “Surely you don’t believe that to be—”

  “You may cease your misguided defense of the man. My point is, I would not put it past him to hear of my indisposition and make the best of it.”

  “Your hatred of him is unreasoning. He has done nothing to offend, yet you simply refuse to see any good in him.”

  “He has done everything to offend!” snapped her stepmother, flushing. “His willingness to endanger your good name alarms me more than I can say.”

  “Endanger my—he was the perfect example of gentlemanly conduct throughout the entire evening! And I tell you he did not know of your absence until after his arrival.”

  “Then he should have left at once upon learning of it.”

  “Are you mad?” Eden stared at her. “You cannot expect him to avoid events to which he has been invited simply because I happen to be present without you. As for my reputation, you may cease your worry. We remained in full sight of everyone at all times. If you’ve any doubts, then I encourage you to inquire of Lady Torrington or perhaps Lady St. Claire, as she was my chaperone for the evening.” But even as she delivered the vehement rebuttal, she knew it was futile.

  “That is entirely beside the point,” persisted Catherine. “His attention alone is enough to damage you. I don’t think you quite understand the urgency of your situation.” She snatched up the paper from beside her and held it out. “Perhaps this will open your eyes.”

  Eden’s heart sank as she took it—it was The Tatler. Halfway down, she saw it under the “Weekend Whimsy” section:

  Terror of the Ton takes on Hellion of Holker Hall

  At Lord and Lady T.’s dinner party on Saturday the TOT’s unexpected arrival delighted hosts and unwed female guests alike. Of note was the renowned Miss L., to whom he paid especial attention. If the couple’s conduct was disappointingly proper, there can be no doubting the serious nature of their association. Speculation remains only as to when their engagement will be announced.

  Handing back the offending sheet, Eden laughed. “If this is enough to elicit a march down the aisle then half of London’s eligibles will be married by the end of the week. Did the papers not make similar predictions concerning me on three separate occasions last Season? This is nothing more than the usual annoying commentary. I happen to be the subject of their ramblings today. Tomorrow, it’ll be someone else.”

  Catherine’s lips thinned. “All the same, I henceforth forbid you to see him without my direct supervision. It is plain I can depend on neither of you to do what is right without my prompting it.”

  “Shall you write a letter informing him of your edict?” Eden sniped, wounded.

  “I shall refrain from doing so as long as you don’t give me any reason to think it necessary,” retorted Catherine, pinning her with a stony gaze. “Pray don’t make me regret my trust and leniency.”

  “Trust? What trust is this, to be the subject of an accusatory inquisition regarding a matter over which I had no control?”

&nbs
p; “You could have kept your distance.”

  “It was a social event,” she flared. “We played parlor games, a few with each other but mostly with other partners. As for dinner, I was not consulted on the seating arrangements made by our hostess. Again, if you doubt my truthfulness, feel free to verify my words with Lady Torrington or Lady St. Claire.”

  A sigh issued from her stepmother’s frowning mouth. “Truly, Eden, I have no desire for such contention. We have always gotten on well, you and I. It is only recently that we have begun to experience difficulty seeing eye to eye. This matter of Tavistoke has driven a wedge between us. If I cannot resolve the problem, I shall have no choice but to defer the matter to your father. I did not want to bring him into this as he is heavy laden with other matters, but you may well have forced the issue.” She tapped the paper before again tossing it aside.

  Papa. He hardly seemed to even notice her these days. He was far too busy with Parliament and her half brother Thomas. Though he was but eight, the boy’s “training” took up all of his attention. She didn’t resent him. Had her father been unoccupied, he would’ve been a bother to her long before now. Like so many men, he relied upon his wife to handle all matters pertaining to his female offspring.

  “That will hardly be necessary,” she said, edging her tone with frost. “Henceforth, should he arrive at an event at which I am present without either you or Papa to act as my gaoler, I shall give my regrets to the host and leave at once. I’m sure Lord Tavistoke will understand. I’ll endeavor to explain it to him discreetly when I am allowed to see him next so he is prepared and does not think me indifferent.”

  “Don’t be absurd, girl!” hissed Catherine. “To do such a thing would cause far worse speculation.”

  “Then what would you have me do? It displeased you that we were both in attendance at the Torringtons’ party without you, yet you would not have had me leave? I know not the soul capable of winning such an argument as this!”