by Merry Farmer
“No, my dear,” Lady Stanhope said, her handsome face lighting with surprise. Elaine was ready to add being called ‘my dear’ to her list of things she hated, until Lady Stanhope went on with, “I brought you here so that we can figure out a way for you and Basil to be together.”
Elaine was so surprised by the statement that she didn’t know how to respond. “You want Basil and I to be together?”
“Of course. You love him. He loves you.”
Elaine blinked. “I don’t understand any of this. Why do you care?”
Lady Stanhope smiled and touched Elaine’s knee. “Basil is my friend and has been my friend for a very long time. I want him to be happy.” She paused. “He’s far more effective when he’s happy.”
Understanding began to seep around the edges of Elaine’s confusion. “You’re as deeply involved in politics and this election as Basil and his other, male friends, aren’t you?”
Lady Stanhope didn’t try to deny it. Her growing smile said that she was proud of the fact. “This country stands on the edge of a precipice. It is currently ruled by those with money and cocks, who wish to keep women and the poor under their thumbs.”
Elaine’s brow shot up. She’d never heard anyone speak so frankly. “I agree.”
“I can tell you do,” Lady Stanhope went on. “Which is why I’m baffled that you continue to stay under your uncle’s roof. Or do you not know the evils that Turpin has masterminded.”
Prickling uneasiness shot down Elaine’s spine. She thought instantly of Lord Shayles and his salacious manner, and the plot to interfere with the election, not to mention the hints Lavinia, in her innocent way, had given her about Uncle Daniel.
“He is the only family I have,” Elaine said, “and the only excuse I could think of to come to London and stay here.”
“So that you could be close to Basil,” Lady Stanhope finished her thought. “He’s your true motivation for coming to London, not politics or a sense of family duty.”
Elaine hesitated, studying Lady Stanhope with narrowed eyes. What stake did the woman have in her relationship with Basil? Was she, too, one of Basil’s former lovers? And why did everyone in London seem to think the personal lives of others were fodder for afternoon conversations?
“I know I’m naïve,” she said, praying that she could hold her own against the formidable woman, who had apparently invited her not to tea, but to an interrogation. “I’ve discovered as much a thousand times over in the last week. I’m not as clever as I thought I was. My reasons for abandoning Brynthwaite and rushing to London, unprepared, are silly.”
“Love is never silly, my dear,” Lady Stanhope said.
“They are when love is all you have,” she went on. “When you don’t know enough about your beloved to prevent yourself from stumbling into embarrassing situations.” Her cheeks flared hot as she remembered her first encounter with Lady Royston, but she forced herself to go on. “I may have bumbled my way through this entire adventure, I may not know what I’m doing still. But I know that I love Basil, even though I am furious with him for withholding so much from me. I don’t know what I expected by coming here, and I became stupidly entangled in the plot my uncle and Lord Shayles concocted to win the election, even if they have to stuff the ballot-box to do it.”
“Lord Shayles?” Lady Stanhope’s whole demeanor changed in an instant, and her eyes widened in alarm. Elaine would have thought the woman would be more shocked over what Elaine had heard about tampering with the vote. The fact that Lord Shayles himself alarmed her more wasn’t a good thing.
“Yes,” Elaine said, studying her closely. “He was at my uncle’s house when I left. He gave me his card and said he might be able to help me when Basil eventually tires of me, which he, and practically everybody else, seems to think will happen.”
“You must get away from your uncle’s house at once.” Lady Stanhope slid closer to her and took Elaine’s hands. “He is the very worst of men, and if he has set his sights on you, there’s no telling what he would do to have you.”
“No one is going to have me against my will, Lady Stanhope,” Elaine said, certain the woman was overreacting.
But Lady Stanhope fixed her with a sad look. “I know far too many young women who felt the same way only to be proven wrong.”
As much as Elaine wanted to argue with her, to insist she was used to taking care of herself, her experiences over the past week warned her not to get ahead of herself.
“You must leave your uncle’s house now, today,” Lady Stanhope went on. “I invited you here because I own this flat, but I live elsewhere. I implore you to accept my offer to stay here, without rent or payment, for as long as you need to.”
Elaine’s brow shot up. “Stay here?”
She glanced around the room, seeing it for the first time. The furnishings were luxurious and artistic. The space was large and cheerful, with a hint of the exotic. Through an open door at the back of the room she could see a bedchamber, complete with a sumptuously outfitted bed. She suddenly questioned just what kind of flat she was in and why Lady Stanhope maintained it when she lived elsewhere.
“I don’t know if I could possible accept such an offer,” Elaine said, excitement at the prospect pulsing through her all the same.
Before Lady Stanhope could make a case for her to stay, a knock sounded at the door. She smiled and stood. “Perfect timing.”
“For what?” Elaine asked.
Lady Stanhope didn’t answer. Instead, she crossed to the door and opened it.
Basil stood on the other side with a frown. “Katya,” he said. “Why on earth would you ask me to come here. You know I’m not—” His words stopped as he glanced into the room and saw Elaine.
Joy and frustration welled up within Elaine so powerfully that they propelled her to her feet. “Not what?” she asked, crossing her arms. “Have you been here before? Is Lady Stanhope one of your old friends too?”
“Enough of that,” Lady Stanhope said with all the strength of a governess quelling a temperamental child. “I asked Basil to come here so that the two of you can sort out your differences and get on with things.” She opened the door wider, and as Basil strode into the flat, she said, “Shayles had caught wind of Elaine. He gave her his card.”
In an instant, Basil’s face burned with fury more powerful than anything Elaine had seen from him. “I’ll kill him,” he said, marching across the room as if he would sweep Elaine into his arms. “You have to get away from Turpin and Shayles immediately, before it’s too late.”
“I…what…it’s lovely to see you too,” she snapped, stepping out of his way before Basil could embrace her. “What in heaven’s name is going on?”
“As I said,” Lady Stanhope began with a slight nod. “I asked the two of you to come here in order to sort out your differences. Take my advice and get it done sooner rather than later.” She glanced to both of them, warning in her eyes, then swept out through the flat’s door, shutting it behind her.
Elaine gaped at the closed door for a moment before bursting out with, “What is going on here?” She glared up at Basil.
“Shayles is dangerous,” Basil said without hesitation. “If Turpin has invited him in where you are concerned, there’s no time to lose.”
“I am sick to death of being left in the dark.” Elaine marched away from him, then turned to pace in the center of the room. “It’s as if London is full of plots and schemes, histories and gossip, and we are all expected to navigate it without a map.”
“Believe me, you do not want to know the things that Shayles, and your uncle, for that matter, are capable of,” Basil said.
Elaine stopped, spinning to face him. “Ignorance helps no one, least of all me,” she snapped. “Ignorance is what landed us in this mess in the first place. You weren’t honest with me about who you really are, and now look what it’s brought us to.”
“Elaine,” he took a step toward her.
“I’m in miles over my head in
a town I despise. Every other person I meet tells me how fickle and disreputable you are, and how you will toss me aside as soon as you get bored.”
“I will never toss you aside,” he said, more strength in his voice, closing the distance between them.
“And how am I supposed to believe that when this past that you keep hidden from me is thrown in my face every time I meet another titled lady?”
He stopped, letting out a breath and dropping his shoulders. “I have no excuses for my past. Only that it truly is in the past.”
“You thought there was a chance Lady Royston’s son was yours.” Elaine took a few steps closer to him. “Why?”
Basil dragged his eyes up to meet hers. “Katya is right. We need to sort things out and get on with it.”
“Then start sorting,” Elaine said, nearly stomping her foot under her layers of skirts.
Basil nodded, holding a hand out to her. Elaine hesitated, then took his hand. She let him lead her to the sofa, where they sat.
“The trouble with revealing everything about a past riddled with mistakes and bad behavior is that you can never know how anyone will react to it,” he began, staring at their hands, which were still joined on the sofa between them. “I had no intention of telling anyone in Brynthwaite who I was or had been. I fully intended for Lord Waltham to disappear and be forgotten and for Mr. Wall to carry me through to the end of my life.” He glanced up, meeting her eyes. “I had no idea you would be waiting for me in my new life, that you would be my new life.”
Elaine’s throat constricted. Every natural inclination she had was to forgive Basil for everything and hug him until the sad look in his eyes went away. But she was weary from discovering everything she had believed about the world and about love was different from what she supposed.
“Then,” Basil went on, “by the time I realized my happiness depended on our friendship and the hope that there could be more between us, I was too afraid of what revealing the truth would mean. Of course, I didn’t think it would matter that you didn’t know, because I never expected Malcolm to find me or for my old life to rear its ugly head.”
“I understand all of that, Basil,” she said, squeezing his hand. “But did you really think the bond between us was so flimsy that knowing who you’d been would destroy our friendship?”
“No,” he insisted. “But I was afraid that the sins of my past were too great and too shameful even for your pure heart to forgive. No woman wants to hear that the man she loves was reckless and profligate in his youth, or that he didn’t outgrow those tendencies until much later than a reasonable man should.”
“Just tell me,” Elaine sighed. “I’m tired of stumbling around in the dark.”
He nodded, swallowing. “From the moment I discovered pleasure as an adolescent, I made it a constant pursuit. It’s not an uncommon thing for young men with wealth and titles, who aren’t expected to do much more than uphold an image of idle nobility. Ironically, it was the war that helped me to see I could do more with my life, but as soon as I returned home whatever hopes I had for being more than an idle gentleman were crushed. I fell back into old habits, old vices. Partially in rebellion against my father, who was frustrated that I wouldn’t choose a wife to ensure our title continued.”
“I’ve wondered why you never married,” she said.
“If you had asked me why in my twenties, I would have said it was out of spite for my father,” he confessed. “But Father died with I was thirty-one. Once I assumed the title and its responsibilities, I was inclined to behave and focus on duty. But nothing attracts a certain sort of woman like an earldom. I found I had even more women throwing themselves at me than before. I told myself that I was only engaging in long-term arrangements as a means of seeking out the perfect Countess of Waltham, but as the years went on, I realized more and more that the perfect woman did not exist. At least, not in London.”
He glanced up at her, hope filling his expression.
“I was looking in the wrong place,” he said. “You were miles away.”
“And far, far too young for you, if you were searching for me in your thirties,” Elaine added with a wry twist of her lips.
“A fair point,” he said. “My heart and my body were at cross-purposes at that point,” he admitted with a sheepish flush. “But as I got older, I became far more discreet and kept my dalliances to one woman at a time, sometimes for several years.”
“Like Lady Royston?”
His face pinched with guilt. “I thought I’d finally found a woman I could bear being married to.” He went back to watching the way their fingers entwined and shook his head. “Unlike past indiscretions, Elizabeth was not an experienced widow or professional courtesan. She was an ambitious daughter of a wealthy merchant who wanted a foothold in the aristocracy and who was willing to do anything to get it. It was either me or Royston. I thought I had her when—” He paused, clearing his throat and looking more embarrassed than ever. “When things became intimate between us. I did not realize I wasn’t the only one in her bed until….”
“Hyde Park,” Elaine filled in for him.
He nodded, then rolled his shoulders with a wince, as if shaking off the past. “A rumor reached me that Elizabeth was secretly with child. I concluded that it had to be mine. She had stopped receiving me and sent back letters I’d sent her, though. I was unaware that those actions were because she had decided on Royston and didn’t feel it was appropriate to maintain any connection with me. So I pursued her to Hyde Park one day. She was with Royston, and though she tried to put me off, I challenged her. I said things, indiscreet things, things that nearly destroyed her reputation.”
“Oh, Basil,” Elaine breathed. “Did you accuse the poor woman of being pregnant by you in public?”
He nodded. “Royston laid me flat and would have kicked me to death if Elizabeth hadn’t stopped him. There were witnesses. She was rightfully furious with me. I had to pay a king’s ransom to keep it out of the scandal sheets.”
“And you ended up fleeing to Brynthwaite afterwards.” She shook her head in pity. “You said you came to Brynthwaite because of a romantic embarrassment.”
“I don’t do embarrassment halfway,” he admitted, meeting her eyes with a weak grin.
“No, you don’t. But neither do I.” She sighed, loosening her shoulders and flopping back to sprawl against the back of the sofa as best she could in her tight clothes. “I hate London.”
Basil sagged against the sofa beside her, inclining his head toward hers. “So do I.”
“Nobody here is happy.”
“I’m certainly not.”
“I want to go home, to Brynthwaite.”
“So do I.”
Elaine turned her head to study him. He looked so tired, so old. But at the same time, he looked like a man who had had a burden lifted from his shoulders. “Why don’t we just go home, then?”
He turned his face to her. “You mean, just leave everything and run away?”
She nodded, breaking into a smile. “It was a terrible mistake to come here in the first place.”
“This isn’t who we are,” Basil agreed.
“Not even a tiny bit.” Her heart began to lift and excitement raced through her, like it did at home when she thought of a particularly clever scheme.
“I miss my bookshop,” he said with sudden passion. “I miss the smell of paper and leather. I miss unpacking crates from publishers, like opening presents on Christmas.”
“I miss wearing whatever I want, even though everyone disapproves.” She let out a sudden laugh. “I miss the way Mr. Crimpley sneers and snorts at me.”
“Who ever thought I would miss Crimpley?”
The two of them laughed.
“He would be so proud to know he was missed by an earl,” Elaine said. She hadn’t felt so much like herself in what seemed like forever.
“I love you, Elaine,” Basil said with sudden passion. He scooped her into his arms, holding her close. “All I wan
t is to forget the past and be with you in a life far from here. I want to buy your cottage from Sudbury and marry you and live out the rest of my days there, with you and as many children as we can manage to have before we’re both too tired and overwrought to have more.”
The prospect was so overwhelmingly beautiful that it brought tears to Elaine’s eyes. “That’s all I want too.”
She surged into him, kissing him with all the longing that had built up inside of her over the past, miserable week. He kissed her back with feeling, parting her lips and exploring her mouth with a sigh that was both contented and desperate. His hand reached for the hem of her skirt, sliding up her leg as far as he could go before her voluminous skirts stopped him. She could barely wriggle against him the way she wanted to in her stiff corset. They fumbled for a few seconds, trying and failing to get closer.
“I’ll tell you what,” Basil said between kisses, giving up his effort to undress her. “These modern fashionable clothes have to go. I want you dressed in something that enables me to ravish you whenever the urge takes me.”
Elaine laughed deep in her throat. “Then you’d better switch out these fancy, London togs of yours for a simple pair of trousers and a shirt,” she said, brushing her hand along the triple row of buttons from his jacket, waistcoat, and silk shirt.
“You do realize that if we didn’t both have enough clothing on between us to outfit half of Brynthwaite, I’d be making furious love to you right now?” he asked, arching a brow as he studied her with the full heat of his need. It was so far from the lascivious way Shayles had looked at her as to be laughable.
“Lady Stanhope said I could have this flat, you know?” She grinned at him.
Basil shook his head. “Forget about this flat. Come live with me in Waltham House.”
“Do you mean it?” Her heart fluttered with excitement.
“Of course. The gossips will go into fits of apoplexy at the impropriety of it all, but it will only be temporary.”
“Temporary?” She stared hard at him. He wasn’t thinking of leaving again, was he?