The Wrong Mr. Wright

by Patricia Bray

  “Yes,” Lady Endicott replied. “I will admit that the news of your engagement came as a surprise, for Stephen had never even mentioned you to me. But then I realized that your marriage would be a blessing for us all. Once he has a family of his own, Stephen will no longer have any reason to be jealous of George. You can help him see the light and to appreciate George’s many fine qualities.”

  Diana doubted that very much. Merely mentioning George’s name was enough to make Stephen’s jaw clench with anger. And she had her own quarrel with George that made her disinclined to advance his cause.

  “Stephen, that is, Lord Endicott, is a good man. An honorable man,” Diana said. “I know that he can be trusted to do what is right by his family.”

  And there was little enough she could do. If she were to marry Stephen, then that would be a different story. Then, given time, she might be able to influence the behavior of both brothers. But as a temporary fiancée, her powers of persuasion were, indeed, limited.

  “Of course. And I hope I have not distressed you with my candor.”

  “Not at all. You have given me much to think about,” Diana said.

  Now she just had to decide what, if anything, she would tell Stephen of this meeting. Or perhaps she would be better served to keep her own counsel. Time and observation would prove or disprove Lady Endicott’s assertions, and then Diana would make up her own mind on what course of action she should take.

  On Monday evenings the Explorers’ club served sirloins of beef, and in the height of the season it was no surprise to find the dining room filled to capacity. When he arrived, Lord Endicott was shown to a table where his friends were already seated. They greeted him amiably, remarking on how seldom he had been seen at the club this season. He explained that he had been uncommonly busy, which drew nods of understanding and reassurances that once he was wed, there would be no need to dance constant attendance upon his wife.

  Fortunately the servants chose that moment to bring the main course, saving him from the necessity of making a reply. As they devoured the excellent beef, a reverent hush fell over the table, testimony to the chef’s great skill. It was not until the main courses were cleared away that the conversation once again became general. Stephen toyed with his fork, barely touching the sweet set before him.

  He felt curiously disconnected from this place, as if he were an observer in his own body. It was strange. These Monday dinners had been part of the ritual of his existence for years now, and yet on this night he wondered why he had bothered to come. Even the things that had once brought him pleasure now seemed dull and lifeless. Twice he looked up and found Tony Dunne’s eyes resting on him, his face showing concern. But they were seated at opposite ends of the table, so he was safe from interrogation.

  After what seemed an eternity, the sweet course was cleared away, and the diners arose. Mr. Smythe and Mr. Campbell took their leave, no doubt bound for some gaming hell or another. The rest expressed their intention of retiring to the library for brandy and cigars.

  Tony Dunne caught his eye. “Shall we play a hand or two of piquet?” he asked.

  Stephen shrugged. “Why not?”

  He had no wish to play at cards, but neither did he wish to return to the house in Grosvenor Square and to his solitary thoughts.

  He followed Tony up the stairs and into the blue parlor, which was quiet at this time of the evening. Save for Lord Grimthorpe, who dozed quietly by the fireplace, the room was empty.

  A footman brought a fresh pack of cards and placed a brandy decanter and two goblets on the table beside them

  He wondered if Tony would press him, but his friend seemed content to let him be, talking only as the game dictated. Stephen tried to lose himself in the play; but his mind wandered, and it was no surprise when Tony Dunne took the final trick and won the round.

  “Again?” Tony asked, gathering up the cards.

  “Yes,” Stephen said, reaching for his goblet. He raised it to his lips, but only tasted the brandy before setting it down. He knew instinctively that the answers he sought were not to be found in a brandy glass.

  They played for a few moments, and then suddenly he could take no more of this. He folded his cards together and set them carefully down on the table. “I am losing her,” he confessed.

  Tony Dunne set down his own cards. “What do you mean?”

  Stephen kept his gaze fixed upon the brightly colored playing cards. It was easier to talk this way. “Miss Somerville. I am losing her, and I don’t know what to do.”

  He waited for Tony Dunne to remind him of what they both knew. That Miss Somerville had never been his to lose in the first place. That they had entered into their arrangement both knowing it was a temporary affair, a deception meant to fool society. But, instead, he had been the one fooled. He had tried to convince society that they were in love, and, instead, he had convinced himself.

  “You do not wish her to return to Kent?” Tony Dunne asked.

  Stephen shook his head. “Actually, I would be happy to see her back in her home. Circumstances being what they are, I urged her father not to delay their departure, but, instead, to leave as planned.”

  “The circumstances being your brother’s arrival.”

  “Yes,” Stephen confirmed. He did not trust George and was convinced that his brother had it in mind to work some great mischief. But Miss Somerville had no intention of heeding his cautions. “When Diana found that I had spoken to her father, she was furious. She told me that I had no right to do so and that I was a high-handed brute for trying to dictate her life. Said she had no intention of leaving London and missing the excitement of the visiting foreign royals.”

  “But you are her fiancé.”

  “For now,” Stephen said. “She offered to release me from the engagement at once if her behavior displeased me.”

  “Naturally you refused.”

  “Of course.” Stephen ran one hand through his hair. “I do not know what to do. A fortnight ago I was certain we were approaching an understanding. I planned to ask her to marry me in truth. And then George returned, and everything changed.”

  Tony Dunne gazed at him keenly and then reached over to the decanter and refilled his glass. He contemplated the brandy in silence before lifting his eyes to his friend. When he spoke, his gaze was full of compassion. “Have you considered that this may be for the best? If Miss Somerville is so easily swayed, then she is not the woman for you.”

  “No,” Stephen replied without thinking. The fault lay not with Miss Somerville, but with himself. He should have spoken of his feelings, convinced her of the sincerity of his regard. Instead, he had courted her slowly, not wishing to frighten her off. He had hoped that in time she would see how well suited they were for each other and agree to become his wife.

  “She does not want me. I am too dull, too conservative for her tastes. She wants excitement. She wants George, and she is ready to forgive his misdeeds.”

  The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. How could she be so naive? George had callously tried to ruin Diana. And yet, such was his charm that with a few glib speeches and show of contrition, he was well on the way to regaining Miss Somerville’s trust. Not that Diana was foolish, but rather her own good nature blinded her to the wickedness of others. Such innocence made her easy prey here in London. He shuddered to think what would happen if she was ever able to fulfill her dream of traveling the world.

  “So what do you plan to do? Will you just stand aside, and let George take her?”

  He had spent two sleepless nights pondering this very question. He did not know what to do. Diana would not listen to reason, and if he pressed much harder, he was afraid that she would carry through on her threat and notify the papers that the engagement was at an end. And then he would have no opportunity to see her at all.

  And as for his brother, there was another dilemma.

  “I tried to buy him off,” Stephen said. “Offered him a thousand pounds to leave England and return to
the Continent. But he refused. Said he wouldn’t leave for ten thousand pounds.”

  He had been certain that his brother would accept the bribe. Money had always worked with George before, and a thousand pounds was more than George’s annual allowance. But it seemed this time his brother had something different in mind.

  “If he is not willing to leave, then perhaps you have misjudged him. Perhaps he does, indeed, love this Miss Somerville, in his own way.”

  “No,” Stephen said. “That I will not believe.”

  “You could always have him kidnapped. Find some captain heading to India or the Orient and pay him to take on an unwilling passenger,” Tony suggested.

  “Do not tempt me.” He had already thought of this himself. He supposed it was a measure of his desperation that he was willing to consider such dishonorable actions.

  “Then, what shall you do?”

  “What I can. Watch. Wait. Be her friend, if she will let me,” he said. He could not let her go, and he refused to let George win. Somehow, he would find a way to convince her that he was the only man for her.

  Nearly a week had passed since she had taken tea with the dowager Lady Endicott, and Diana still did not know what to make of the viscountess’s remarks. The picture she had painted of Stephen as a brooding and jealous older brother was a grim one, indeed. A part of Diana wanted to dismiss it out of hand, and yet another part could not help wondering if there was at least a grain of truth in what Lady Endicott had said. It was against Diana’s nature to be suspicious of anyone, and yet clearly here someone must be lying or, at the very least, bending the truth to suit their own purpose.

  And then there was Stephen, who rather than playing the sinister role assigned to him was acting as a perfect gentleman, seeming to belie his stepmother’s words. He had apologized to Diana for their quarrel at the opera, saying that he had been wrong to doubt her judgment. To make up for his sins, he had offered to teach her to drive a whiskey-gig, and his kindness made her feel all the more wretched for harboring suspicions about his motives.

  If only there was someone she could trust, an impartial bystander who would help her tell truth from falsehood. But there was no one she could turn to. Stephen was hardly a neutral party, and yet she longed to confide in him. Still, she knew instinctively that he would be displeased to learn that she had discussed him with his stepmother, and she had no wish to quarrel with him. She shivered as she imagined how angry he would be if she tried to discover whether there was any truth in his stepmother’s accusations.

  “Are you cold? We can do this another day,” Lord Endicott said.

  “No,” Diana replied, summoning up a bright smile. “The fog will soon burn off, and I would not miss this for anything.”

  It was just past eight o’clock, and the fashionable streets in London were empty, many of their residents still in their beds after staying out till nearly dawn. Green Park would be all but empty at this hour, which was why Lord Endicott had chosen it for her driving lesson. He was far too cautious to let her try her skills during the afternoon, when the park would be crowded with the fashionable set. But perhaps, after she had had a lesson or two, she could convince him to let her drive during the afternoon promenade. She imagined the look of astonishment and envy upon the faces of the other young women of the ton, as they saw Diana expertly tooling the carriage along the crowded pathways.

  The gates of Green Park loomed up through the fog, and the carriage passed between them. A few yards inside the gate, Lord Endicott drew the gig to a stop, and the groom hopped off the rear seat and went to hold the horse’s head.

  Lord Endicott set the whip into a small holder and then pulled up a wooden lever on the left-hand side of the coach. “The hand brake,” he explained. “Though it will not hold a horse if he chooses to bolt, which is why I bring Jim along, to hold the horse when I stop the carriage.”

  Diana nodded. This much she already knew.

  “You have driven a pony cart, yes?” Lord Endicott asked.

  “Yes,” Diana replied. Several years before, her father had given in to her pleading and taught her to drive the pony cart. She had often driven her sisters into the village or to pay calls upon a neighboring estate. But the cart was a slow, four-wheeled contraption, and the pony that pulled it was a placid beast, who had never galloped in his life. A far cry from the two-wheeled gig and the fine thoroughbred that Lord Endicott drove. At this moment she was grateful that Lord Endicott had chosen the whiskey-gig, rather than the highly fashionable and equally unstable curricle.

  “The principle is the same,” Lord Endicott said. “But you will find that Ajax here requires more sensitive handling than a pony. And the whiskey-gig is lighter than a cart, which means he can set a fast pace, when needed.”

  “How fast can he go?”

  “We will not find out today,” Lord Endicott said. “Let us try simply to make a circuit of the park without mishap, shall we?”

  “Very well.”

  Lord Endicott moved his grip so he held one rein in each hand, and then he drew them toward her. “Here, put your hands on the reins, just above mine,” he said.

  Diana leaned forward slightly and grasped the reins. She was conscious suddenly of his nearness, his side pressing against hers, and his large, capable hands seemingly dwarfing hers. It was a dizzying sensation, and for a moment she could not concentrate.

  She took a deep breath. “I have them,” she said.

  Lord Endicott removed his own hands from the reins.

  “Good. Let’s try this at a walk. Jim,” he called, and the groom let go of the horse’s head and climbed on the back.

  “Ready?”

  “Yes,” Diana said, trying to ignore the butterflies that had taken up residence inside her stomach.

  Lord Endicott released the hand brake and then placed his own hands over hers. She could feel the heat of them even through the kid leather gloves she wore. “Shake the reins once, and Ajax will know to walk on.”

  Diana did so, and the horse obediently set off at a rather tame walk. Lord Endicott’s hands rested lightly over hers, steadying her as she became accustomed to the sensation. The reins were far lighter than she was accustomed to, and Ajax was exceptionally well trained, for he moved at the slightest touch. When the path split into two, it took only a subtle pressure on the right rein, and he turned himself obediently down the right-hand path.

  Diana beamed over at Lord Endicott. “See? I knew I could do this,” she announced.

  “Keep your eyes on the path,” he said. But he smiled back at her and released his hands so that she was driving on her own.

  Diana felt a thrill of exhilaration, realizing that this magnificent conveyance was, indeed, under her control. It was better than she had ever imagined, and she pitied the young ladies who lived their whole lives without ever once having experienced this for themselves. They made three circuits of the park, two at a walk, and the final one at a smooth trot. Lord Endicott was endlessly patient, even when she misjudged a turn, causing the carriage to leave the pathway for a moment, leaving wheel tracks upon the dew-soaked grass. He waited until she had guided Ajax back onto the path before reminding her that when moving swiftly she needed to keep looking ahead, to give her plenty of time to maneuver.

  When they finished the third circuit, the fog had, indeed, burned off, and there were now a handful of people strolling along, enjoying their morning constitutional, as well as a few other carriages. But there was no one she recognized who could bear witness to her daring.

  “Again? Please?” Diana asked.

  “Not today,” Lord Endicott said. “We should stop now, before your arms get tired and you make a mistake.”

  Reluctantly Diana handed him back the reins, and as she flexed her hands, she discovered that they were, indeed, tired. And her shoulders were slightly sore, but these minor aches meant nothing when compared with the excitement of her experience.

  “That was wonderful,” she said.

  “I am
glad that you enjoyed it,” Lord Endicott replied. “It is my pleasure to please you.”

  “And you have done so very well,” Diana replied.

  Her happiness and the bright sunshine combined to dispel her earlier doubts, and she felt in perfect charity with him as he drove her back to Chesterfield Hill.

  Twelve

  “Would you care to see a copy of Guy Mannering? It is by the same author who penned Waverly and is considered every bit its equal.” The young clerk beamed at her hopefully, holding up a thick volume bound in red leather.

  Diana shook her head. “I have no taste for novels.”

  The clerk’s eyes widened at this revelation. No doubt he was accustomed to the more usual young ladies who patronized Hatchard’s, devouring every novel and silly Minerva Press tale they could get their hands on.

  “I was hoping to find a copy of Cook’s account of his explorations of the South Seas,” she said.

  “Been some time since there’s been any call for such, miss,” the clerk said. “Seeing as how the captain has been dead nigh unto forty years now.”

  “Thirty-six years, actually,” Diana corrected him. “And would you check for me? Please.”

  With a heavy sigh indicating that he was doing so only out of his innate generosity, the young clerk disappeared into the back storage room, where the public was not allowed. Diana strolled over to a mahogany case displaying the latest offerings from the London publishers. Her gaze wandered over the brightly bound novels and hastily printed pamphlets describing the victory of Waterloo, hoping for more serious fare.

  Her eye was caught by a slim volume which was entitled “A True Tale of the Astounding Journeys of Messrs. Meriwether Lewis and William Clark, as they mapped the Uncharted Wildernesses of the American Territories.” As she reached for the book, her arm was jostled by a gentleman reaching for one of the pamphlets.

  “I beg your pardon,” she said. She turned, and her heart gave a jump as she recognized the gentleman who now stood beside her.