by Joan Avery
“I wanted to apologize for my impropriety. I don’t know what possessed me to be so forward.” It wasn’t a lie. He had been detached from emotion for so long that the action and the feelings preceding it were impossibly strange.
“No idea at all?” She seemed to question his honor.
“You are a beautiful woman,” he offered as a weak excuse.
“And beautiful women are to be taken advantage of?”
“No. No, not at all.” She had a way of getting under his skin and dismantling his good sense. “It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have done it. For God’s sake, woman, I’m trying to apologize. Are you always so—”
“I’m afraid, my lord, I am always so. To be otherwise would be to abandon my good sense and purpose.” She turned to look outside once more. “The snow is lovely. Do you get much snow in London?”
He had been dismissed.
…
The ever-present fog and now the snow made her feel like she was in a snow globe. It was a strange feeling. A suffocating feeling, as if she couldn’t escape even if she wanted to. She was caught here in this carriage with a man who had taken an unforgettable license. What had he been thinking?
She didn’t like the feelings he had stirred in her. Didn’t think his apology adequate. Had he thought she would be willing to offer him “favors” in return for a propitious ruling?
She would clear that up quickly enough. “I’m afraid, my lord, my case will have to stand on its own merits. I would hope it would be given a fair hearing. Certainly the rights of women should extend to their property without the need for a special trust.”
His expression changed. His mouth was set tight as if he were resisting the urge to speak.
But she was not finished. “Are we such a mean sort, we women, that we are not entitled to civil rights?”
When he didn’t answer her, she continued, “Am I simply a personal possession to be handed over by my father to a man I hardly know? And then to be threatened with the loss of all my property because I will not marry a man for whom I have no admiration or even respect? What man would accept these terms so decidedly one-sided? Ah, if I’d only been born a man!”
“That would have been a loss,” he answered quietly. It did not appease her.
“How so, my lord?” she asked belligerently.
“I think society gains by having so beautiful and so passionate a woman in its company. Who better to argue for the rights of women than bright, articulate beings of their own kind? Do not demean yourself and your own by wishing to be a man. Being a man confers no special happiness.”
Damn him. Was he feigning agreement? She couldn’t have come up with a better response herself. He somehow managed to support her right to speak and compliment her beauty in such an irrefutable way that she was left speechless and confounded.
She watched him as he studied her. Both knew their way around a good argument.
“I’m curious, Miss Westwood, how did you become so passionate about the rights of women?”
“Simply by being one, my lord. What man in these circumstances would stand idly by and let all his rights continue to be abrogated by laws he had no say in making? Is that so strange? That a woman might think and defend her position with logic and sane argument?”
Lord Montgomery listened intently. But she had one last point to make. One last defense of herself and her kind. “Do you think a woman has nothing to bargain with but her body?”
He drew back from her, apparently stunned by her comment. If he had held any notion of seeking favors, she had quickly deprived him of them.
“Surely, Miss Westwood, you don’t think I was—”
“What else am I to think, my lord?”
Color rose to his face, and he forced a hand through his dark hair. She had accused him of the most vile motive she could imagine.
“You think, Miss Westwood, any man who shows any interest in you has only low-minded and manipulative designs. I assure you this notion of yours puts all men in low regard, no matter their intent.”
“So you are saying your intent was honorable? You can say this, despite our differences in status and rank. Are you then ready to marry me and liberate all my finances?” She laughed harshly. In the small confines of the carriage, it seemed to echo. She clearly had once more slipped the bounds of decorum.
“Do not disturb yourself, Miss Westwood. I have no intentions at all toward you. I was momentarily captured by your beauty and intellect. Rest assured my recent misguided act will never be repeated.” He turned from her to study the passing buildings.
She had won the battle. Somehow it did not leave her at all pleased. She had liked the kiss. And the betrayal of her body and spirit was unforgivable. The vile, vile man. An even bigger concern reared its ugly head. Had she by her spite and ill-thought-out retort endangered her chances of winning the lawsuit?
If she lost, she would be destitute.
The carriage pulled to a stop, and she welcomed it. Before she could struggle to the door, the earl had opened it and stepped out. He offered her his hand. She ignored it.
Stepping angrily down onto the snow-covered ground, her delicate red pumps with their smooth kid soles offered no traction. Her foot slipped, and she tumbled awkwardly toward the ground.
She was caught midair by the earl, who pulled her back up to a standing position. He held her tightly to him, her face mere inches from his.
Then he kissed her. Softly but thoroughly. She should have fought him, beat her fists against his chest and twisted her body away. She should have but didn’t. Instead she enjoyed the luxury of his soft lips and the protection of his strong arms. It was he who finally pulled away.
“If I’m to be damned for my actions, let me suit myself this one last time.” He abruptly released her and she almost fell again.
This time he did not offer help. He climbed into his carriage and struck the top of the compartment to indicate to the driver he was ready to move on. The carriage driver hurried the horses away.
Victoria stood there in the darkness. What had just happened? And why didn’t she feel more offended by his unwanted kiss?
“Oh, miss. It’s you.” Mrs. McCreery had opened the door, allowing the light from the hallway to spill out into the night. “Someone was kind enough to give you a ride home. How commendable. I don’t think it right that you go about so often on your own. Did you have an enjoyable evening? Did you see the prince?” Mrs. McCreery helped her with her cloak. “I’ve sent Mary to bed. The poor girl has a lot of errands in the morning.”
“Thank you, Mrs. McCreery.” Victoria walked to the stairs and paused a moment, staring at the floor before she started up.
“Yes, I did see the prince. He was very kind,” she lied.
“Did you have a good time?”
She asked herself this very question.
“It was very educational, Mrs. McCreery. Very.” Slowly she mounted the stairs to her room.
Chapter Ten
The small courtroom was filled. It left Victoria feeling more than a little claustrophobic. Today she would find out whether Lord Montgomery would allow the lawsuit to go forward.
“All rise.”
During her first court appearance, she had had no knowledge of the man who held her fate in his hands. This time she would study him closely. A great deal of doubt had crept in since their peculiar encounter. What did he want of her? Was it a mere fluke, as he claimed, or something more?
He entered quietly. He made no effort to acknowledge anyone in the courtroom. He seemed as cold as the first time she had seen him. She wondered how a man could feign disinterest so thoroughly. He was a puzzle. And seemed to remain so as she searched for any clue as to his disposition.
She was warm. Made still warmer by the thought of the intimacies she had allowed the man. No doubt he would expect still more from her if the lawsuit proceeded. She would not allow him any. She was not a woman who traded on her looks or sought favor with her body, regardless of
what Lord Stanford claimed.
“I have made my determination.”
Mr. Manning stood, taking Victoria’s arm to raise her as well. She spared a look over to Lord Stanford, who resisted his attorney’s efforts to get him to stand.
A murmur rose from the spectators. It seemed Stanford was too drunk to stand. His attorney urged him more vigorously, and the man rose on wobbly legs.
“Yeh, yeh, dammit man. I’ll get up.” He tried to shake off his barrister’s grasp.
He stood swaying as if in a small gale. Only a hand on the table before him kept him from toppling over.
Lord Montgomery took in the effort without displaying any emotion whatsoever. Victoria was appalled. How could he be so cold in the face of such depravity? Decency required he rule in her favor. How could he do otherwise? What Stanford wanted was beyond justice. She would not stand for it. Could not.
“I will allow the suit to continue. I declare Miss Victoria Westwood femme sole for the purposes of this lawsuit. This finding will not determine the outcome of the case. The question to still be resolved is whether Miss Westwood was complicit in the agreement. Her actions, or lack of action, in this matter have yet to be determined.”
Victoria gasped. “You cannot allow this suit to continue. I did not sign the agreement. The lawsuit should be thrown out on its face for lacking merit. It is outrageous and offensive. It is unjust to all women. You are a brute. Forcing women to obey laws made by men for men.”
The courtroom had fallen silent. A collective holding of breath.
“This court is adjourned. Mr. Manning, I wish to see you and your client in my office immediately.”
Suddenly the courtroom was awash in conversation. Reporters tripped over one another, rushing to file their news stories.
Victoria stood stunned. Had she hurt her case irreparably? It was just the man was so infuriating. He saw only the details and not the grave injustice of the laws themselves.
“Miss Westwood, I beg of you, try and keep your emotions in check. This will do us no good at all. He could find you in contempt and you would be jailed.” Manning could barely get the words out. “This is not good. Not good at all.”
Victoria couldn’t believe even her own counsel was trying to force her to become a sweet and sedate lady. She was neither and cared little for what others might think. Still dread crept into her heart as she and her attorney followed the judge to his chamber.
He had declared her femme sole. While it allowed her to be sued, it also gave her footing to argue her case. She could now argue she was not party to the agreement and therefore it could not be enforced. Her money would remain hers.
She found it more than a little ironic her fate was to be decided by the laws of commerce, as opposed to ones that addressed personal rights. This alone gave her the courage to keep her head high.
“You must behave yourself. These outbursts will do your case little good,” her barrister reiterated in a whispered conversation.
“I am not a child to be reprimanded for my disobedience, Mr. Manning. Although you mean well, I will not be shushed.” She purposely raised her voice so that the judge could hear. Damn the man.
Once in chambers, Lord Montgomery nodded to his clerk and the door was closed behind them.
“Your outbursts will not be tolerated in my courtroom, Miss Westwood. Although you are American, I’m afraid it will be the laws of England that will apply to the contract between you and your fiancé.”
“Not my contract,” she corrected him. “My father’s.”
“Your participation in this contract has yet to be determined. I hope your attorney has explained to you that today’s decision is your best chance of winning the suit. Had I not ruled you femme sole, your fiancé could even now be enjoying your wealth.”
Lord Montgomery removed the horrible wig and disrobed. When he turned back to her he was once more the man who had kissed her. Her heart skipped a beat, but her head rushed ahead.
“You cannot believe that is fair, sir.”
“What is fair and what is legal are two very different things. I do not rule on the justice of the contract, merely on its legality.”
“And this is how you live your life. Caught up in technicalities rather than justice. How can live with yourself?”
“It is the law that promotes a civilized society, Miss Westwood. It is a unique case and needs to be heard in its entirety. It may well set precedent. We ignore it at our own peril.”
Manning laid a hand on Victoria’s arm. She shook him off.
“Until women are involved in writing the laws, there can be no promise of justice in them.”
“I think we are through here.” He sat at his desk and picked up some papers. “Mr. Manning, please inform you client of the penalties for being found in contempt. I doubt it will help her case, should she find herself in violation.”
Only her barrister’s firm hand on her arm kept her from another outburst.
Later, as she walked down the steps to her carriage, she realized Lord Montgomery remained as much a mystery to her as when she had walked into his office.
She would have to find still other means to measure his consequence.
Chapter Eleven
“Well, what did you think of her? What happened after you left us at the prince’s party?”
Lord Percy leaned forward in his tufted leather seat in the library of Boodle’s, the gentlemen’s club that had been founded in seventeen hundred and sixty-two. The club reeked of wealth and power. Its location at 28 James Street had guaranteed its popularity for over a hundred years. The red brick building, with its large arched window over the entrance, was a stop for many a man between his wife and his mistress. It was bastion of the peers of England, and no woman had ever sullied its threshold.
“Think of whom?” Hugh leaned back in his chair and set the copy of the London Times that he had been reading on his lap.
“Don’t be dense, man! You know what I mean.”
“Your little ploy to force me into her company was not lost on me, you know.”
Percy laughed and sat back in his chair across from Hugh.
“You seem to find so little pleasure in anything that I believed, as one of your best friends, I was doing you a great favor. When was the last time you gambled or drank a tad too much? When was the last time you”—he hesitated a moment— “found pleasure with a woman?”
Hugh laughed. “I won’t have to ask you that question, will I, Percy?”
“I can’t help it if Edith and I procreate like rabbits,” his friend objected. “You should try it. It might improve your dour image.”
“Try what? Your wife?” Hugh said good-naturedly, hoping to change the subject.
“No, my good man. Get yourself your own wife. They can be a wonderful thing.”
“No doubt, your wife has been a blessing to you. I am not sure I have ever met a woman who could put up with me. I’m afraid I will die an old and grumpy bachelor.”
“So, you’re saying nothing happened between you and Miss Westwood? She seemed a bit upset when she left the party.”
“What do you think would have happened between us? That I embraced her and kissed her wantonly?”
“No, no, of course not. I know you too well to expect such ungentlemanly conduct from you. I hoped perhaps you enjoyed some fine conversation is all.”
Hugh smiled. His ploy had worked flawlessly. He did not want to lie to his friend. Neither did he wish to discuss the actions and feelings that had come as a surprise even to him.
“We talked little. It is probably for the best. She is pressing her case before my court, after all.”
“Yes, I suppose so. I just saw a spark of interest there, that’s all.” Percy ran a hand through his hair.
A waiter approached. Lord Percy ordered, “A brandy.” After the man left, he went on, “I see Stanford is gambling again. It’s amazing he is still given credit. I have to believe his dealings with the usurers will eventually catc
h up with him. Those ruffians don’t settle things quietly. I’ve heard of at least one mysterious death attributed to the East End bully boys.” He shook his head.
Hugh leaned forward. “I suspect Stanford is given credit on the belief he will be getting a large settlement from his suit.”
“And will he?” Percy asked. “Because if he doesn’t, it may be his undoing.”
“I don’t prejudge my cases. I will judge on the facts, not rumor and innuendo.”
“Yes, but Stanford is spreading the fact that the relationship between he and Miss Westwood has already been consummated. Worse yet, he’s saying she wasn’t a virgin when he had her.”
“Stanford’s word is tenuous at best. The man would say anything to guarantee his position and the Westwood woman’s money.” Hugh shook his head in disgust.
“You and I may know that, but the scandal sheets are running the rumors as if they are the truth. I doubt any man would want to embroil himself in that. The lady, I’m afraid, will soon be devoid of friends. She will lose her father, as well, if Stanford’s suit fails.”
“What do you know of her father?” Hugh’s interest was piqued.
“They say he is a ruthless businessman. No doubt you have dealt with this kind of father before.”
“You don’t have to mince words, Percy. My father was, indeed, ruthless. He drove both my brothers from England. He would have driven me out as well but for…”
“Why did you stay, Monty? You would have inherited regardless of where you went, but you stayed. I never understood it. If my father had been that cruel and unforgiving, I think I would have fled long ago.”
For a moment, Hugh was lost in thought. Cathy was why he hadn’t fled, why he had endured physical and emotional abuse at the hands of his father. And when his father had died shortly after Cathy, there was no longer any reason to flee. He had spent those early years living down the reputation his father had given the family. Where his father had been reckless, he had shown restraint. His father’s poor business decisions meant every choice he made had to be successful. While his father had dragged the family name through the back alleys and whorehouses of London, he had to be above reproach. In the years since his father’s death, he had gradually restored the family name. More than restored it. He had earned a reputation that was unimpeachable. And now this Westwood woman was threatening it. He couldn’t let it happen. He would regain control over his feelings. That was all there was to it.