by Joyce Alec
Thomas blinked rapidly. “Lady Fortescue?” he repeated hoarsely. “Why is that?”
The lady shook her head sorrowfully. “Her husband was, unfortunately, taking a rather expensive gift to his mistress. Vagabonds came upon him, as it was late in the evening, and stole the gift from him, leaving him with grievous injuries. It is entirely uncertain as to whether or not he will recover.”
A chill ran through Thomas as he heard those words. He had known, of course, that Lord Fortescue had taken a mistress, but evidently, he had not been wise enough to know that bringing expensive gifts ought to be done during the day, when there were other gentlemen and ladies in the streets of London. To do so at night was foolishness in itself, for Thomas was well aware, as were the rest of the beau monde, that there were thieves lurking in every dark shadow, ready to hurry out to claim what they could from those unsuspecting.
“It was his own foolishness, then,” he said as the lady stood quite still. “I will not say I am sorry for it, for I do not believe that Lord Fortescue has ever treated his wife with any true consideration.”
“And you believe that Lord Warwick will suit her much better, I should think,” came the icy reply. “As I have said, Lord Farrington, your friends are not missing you at present. They think you gone to Bath for a short time and that you will return soon. Although just how long you shall be away from society is entirely up to you.” Her voice was a little higher now, betraying the frustration that she so obviously felt. “As I have said, Lord Farrington, before you attempted to distract me further, I have no intention of doing anything other than what I have been tasked with. If you do not wish to speak to me of it, then I can assure you that you will be here for a long duration, for it is not a matter that shall be easily dropped.”
Thomas let out his breath slowly, dropping his head and feeling his heart beginning to pound. The lady was correct in all she had said, for this last week, he had done nothing but prevaricate and try to converse with her about anything other than what he was expected to do. He had attempted to cajole her into speaking openly with him, to try to encourage a friendship of sorts between them rather than taking the situation with any sort of seriousness. It had all been a desperate urge to hide the truth of his actions these last few years away from both himself and from the lady.
“I will return later as usual,” the lady said starkly. “And from now on, Lord Farrington, if you say nothing of worth, I shall have no choice but to depart at once and to hope that the next time will be an improvement.”
Thomas lifted his head and made to say something more, wanted to attempt to stop her, but found that he was already too late. She had swept from the room, the door had been closed firmly behind her, and already, the key was being turned in the lock.
He groaned and sank back down into his chair, his food forgotten. The lady had managed to perceive his intentions without so much as a word from him. And now, she was laying the foundations for what would be a very difficult time indeed, for if he continued on as he was then there would be nothing spoken between them for a very long time. It seemed that more had occurred in the last sennight than he had anticipated, for hearing of the trouble with Lord Fortescue had been something of a shock for Thomas. His friends obviously believed he was gone to Bath, which meant that he had no one searching for him, no one worrying as to where he might be.
Thomas’ breathing became ragged as a dark valley seemed to open up before him. Either way, he would have to step into it, either to bring up the shadows of his past or to linger in the darkness that currently surrounded him. Closing his eyes, Thomas tried to focus on bringing his mind back to a calm state but found that he simply could not do so. There appeared to be only one choice before him, for no matter what he tried, there was not an easy way for him to escape. No amount of cajoling or encouraging would make the veiled lady speak to him. It seemed as though he would have to do as she asked, if he wanted to return to his life in any form.
Picking up his soup, he forced himself to eat the rest of what was on the tray. It was not as though he would require physical vigor to do what was required of him next, but rather that he would need the mental strength to look back on his past and think of what it was he had done that might have caused so much pain to another.
The trouble was, there were so many things that he felt ashamed to even have to consider them.
Letting out a groan, Thomas buried his face in his hands and felt shame begin to creep up over his heart all over again. He did not push it away, as he had done so many times before, but rather allowed it into his heart and almost welcomed it into his mind. Somewhere, in the myriad of his past misdemeanors, he would find what this gentleman was searching for. And then the truth of it would be spoken aloud to the veiled lady, in the hope that it was the one thing she was searching for.
Thomas was filled with both dread and hope at the thought of seeing her again. The hour, he knew, would come soon enough.
9
“And how does your husband fare?”
Josephine looked into Lady Fortescue’s face and saw the confusion that lit her friend’s eyes. She did not blame her for such a thing, knowing that Lady Fortescue had felt nothing but sorrow and reproach toward her husband of late. Josephine herself had disliked Lord Fortescue intently, finding his overbearing manner and determination to do precisely what he wished without consideration for even his wife to be condemning qualities indeed. And now to know that he lay somewhere between life and death must surely bring about all manner of confusion for Lady Fortescue.
“I—I do not think he will recover,” Lady Fortescue said, her color rather pale. “The doctor came again this morning and stated as much. It is only a matter of time. He will not recover his strength.”
“I am sorry,” Josephine said without any true conviction. “That must be rather painful for you.”
Lady Fortescue picked up her teacup and took a sip, setting it back down carefully on the saucer before she replied. “It is not painful, no,” she answered slowly. “I speak honestly with you, Josephine, for I am sure you will not condemn me for it, but I have no great feeling when it comes to my husband’s ill state. I feel as though it is entirely his own doing and thus, almost a consequence of his actions.”
“Quite understandable,” Josephine replied firmly, wanting to encourage her friend. “But you must take great care not to show such a lack of emotion to the beau monde.” She frowned. “You know how the ton can be.”
Lady Fortescue’s smile was wan. “I do indeed,” she said heavily. “I shall have to go into mourning very soon, I fear.”
Wondering if she ought to mention Lord Warwick, Josephine considered this in silence for a few moments, before getting to her feet so that she might pour them both more tea.
“Lord Warwick has been very encouraging to you, I believe,” she said carefully. “I do hope that you will not think me speaking out of turn, Edith, since we are such dear friends, but it is quite clear to me that Lord Warwick thinks very highly of you.”
“I have seen a good deal of him of late,” Lady Fortescue replied with a somewhat guilty air. “Ever since Lord Farrington removed to Bath, Lord Warwick has been eager to be in my company. I have not had the heart to refuse him.”
Now it was Josephine’s turn to feel a stab of guilt, knowing full well that Lord Farrington had not, in fact, gone to Bath. Ignoring it, she studied her friend. “Do you wish for him to leave you?”
“No, no indeed!” Lady Fortescue exclaimed, her cheeks suddenly filling with color. “I am very glad of his company, although, of course, we cannot be anything more than acquaintances.”
“He is a good and honorable gentleman, by all accounts,” Josephine replied gently. “If the worst should happen with Lord Fortescue, I know that you shall not be alone, Edith. I shall be with you, of course, but Lord Warwick will be also.”
Lady Fortescue’s eyes flooded with tears. “I feel so very guilty,” she whispered hoarsely. “For Lord Warwick is the very sort
of gentleman I should come to care for if I allowed myself to do so. But of course, I cannot for I am still wed to Lord Fortescue.”
“And you do not want to wish him further ill, even though such a thing would leave you free, in time,” Josephine said as Lady Fortescue pulled out a handkerchief. She sighed heavily, looking at her friend askance and wondering if she ought to speak a little more openly. “You need not worry so, Edith. You do not wish death upon your husband, I know, but there is no great sympathy within your heart, given that he behaved in such a manner at the first.” She smiled and lifted one shoulder. “That is all perfectly understandable and you must not torment yourself so.”
Lady Fortescue swallowed hard and nodded, rising to her feet.
“I should return to him,” Lady Fortescue said heavily. “I am sorry that my visit with you was of such a short duration. I should have liked to have stayed longer with you, but I have a responsibility to my husband that cannot wait.”
“I understand,” Josephine replied, coming over to embrace her friend. “I will write to you come the morning to see how things fare.”
Lady Fortescue nodded, her eyes still damp and her smile rather watery. “I thank you,” she said softly. “I have not asked you as to how you fare with Lord Farrington, but I presume since he is gone to Bath, you have not had any particular improvements with your search.”
Josephine shook her head, hating the fact that she had been the one to spread through the ton that Lord Farrington had gone to Bath, a lie that her friend was now repeating. “My matters are of no concern at this juncture,” she replied, not wanting to tell another untruth to Lady Fortescue. “You must take care of your husband and make certain that you yourself rest also.”
“I shall do as you ask,” her friend replied, pressing Josephine’s hands. “Good afternoon, Josephine.”
“Good afternoon, Edith.”
Josephine sighed heavily to herself as she watched her friend depart. Her own heart was aching rather badly this afternoon, for try as she might, she did not seem to be able to gain anything from Lord Farrington. Nothing she said or did made any particular difference and she had grown angry with him for his continued rebuttal. When he had been looking toward her earlier that day, she had seen the calculated look in his eyes and had known precisely what he had been planning. Her fury had burst out from within her like a spitting fire and she had told Lord Farrington precisely what her intentions were and how she certainly would not give in to any of his particular charms, no matter how hard he tried. There had been a change in his expression, as though he had realized for the first time that he was not able to do anything other than what she demanded.
Josephine had left him to consider what he intended to do next and she prayed silently that it would not be more prevaricating, otherwise she did not know what she would do. Leave him in the bedchamber without food or company? Would that be enough to force him to speak? Initially, she had believed that the situation he had found himself in would be enough to encourage him to speak, to say something of importance, but instead, he had done nothing of the sort. She could only pray that, now, he would believe what she said and would be willing to speak of his many misdemeanors. Somehow, she would guide him toward the house party, would make him confess to whatever it was he was hiding from her, no matter how grave—but he had to be willing, at the first, to speak.
Sighing to herself, Josephine made her way slowly from the drawing room to the staircase, where she began to climb. Her bedchamber was ready for her, with the black dress waiting for her and her lady’s maid ready to be summoned to assist with the veil, if required.
Josephine ran one finger down the length of the gown, finding herself almost unwilling to put it on again for fear of her failure. Lord Farrington could have done something dreadful that led to her husband’s death; that was the only reason she kept him locked up. Josephine needed to know what Lord Farrington had done to deprive her son of his father, and to deprive her of her husband. Still, she was overcome with guilt. She was keeping a man locked up against his will. Was she any better than him?
Josephine inhaled deeply. She must put those thoughts aside and go to him again, and she would have to try to have him speak of what he had done. She held onto a faint hope that, whatever he was hiding, he would finally be willing to tell her the truth of it all.
Sweeping into the room, Josephine waited until the maid set her tray down before coming to do the same.
“You are to dine with me tonight,” Lord Farrington said, turning toward her with a surprised look. “I had thought that you would…”
“That I would have given up on you,” Josephine replied with a small smile. “Yes, I am aware of that, Lord Farrington. However, I am hopeful that this evening, you might be willing to speak openly with me for what would be the first time.” She gestured to the tray. “Please.”
The maid quit the room and shut the door behind her and, with satisfaction, Josephine heard the lock click also. The footmen and her butler were fully prepared for any eventuality and just knowing that their presence was outside the door brought Josephine a good deal of comfort.
“I have given a great deal of consideration to what you have said,” Lord Farrington replied, sitting down opposite and picking up his fork. “The truth is, my lady, I had believed that you would be just as easy to convince as many of my other acquaintances.” He shook his head and looked at her with a somewhat rueful expression. “I can see now that such a thing is not true.”
“Indeed it is not,” she answered sharply. “I have a duty and I fully intend to fulfill it.”
Lord Farrington said nothing in reply but instead picked up his fork and began to eat. Josephine followed suit, allowing them both to sit in what was, surprisingly, a rather comfortable silence. With both of them enjoying their meal as silently as the other, it gave Josephine a chance to observe Lord Farrington.
He was, of course, just as handsome as ever, with his shock of dark hair and grey eyes that, at the present moment, held flecks of steel within them. However, there was no longer that small, trifling smile on his face that she had seen so often this last week. Instead, there were hard lines pressed into his face, a frown marring his brow, and a grim expression settling into his features, as though he knew all too well that there was no other recourse for him now. This gave Josephine a little hope that he might now be willing to speak to her openly instead of hiding it all away, as he had done before.
“I must ask you, my lady,” Lord Farrington said, once he had finished eating, “what is it that you seek from me? I am aware that this uncle of yours has stated that my error, my sin against him, was from some time ago. However, I will confess to you that I have been in such a position for a long time. I have not lived the very best life and, thus, I cannot be certain as to what it is your uncle seeks.”
Josephine blinked in surprise. She had not expected him to be so open in such a fashion in such a short space of time. Whatever she had done beforehand at luncheon had, evidently, had the required effect. Quite how she was meant to bring Lord Farrington around to the house party and Lord Stevenson, she was not quite sure, but this was, at least, a start.
“I will not pretend that I know a great deal,” she said quietly. “There is one detail, however, that should you mention it, I will know that you are speaking of what my uncle wishes.”
This seemed to catch Lord Farrington’s attention, for his brows lifted momentarily before his frown returned.
“The truth is, my lady, that I have found myself in a state of melancholy whilst I have been kept in this place, even though I have done all I can to reject it,” he said, dropping his head into his hands for a moment, his voice becoming a little muffled. “You are the first who has soundly rejected my attempts to encourage a closeness between us.” A harsh laugh left him and he lifted his eyes back to her veiled face. “Although, that is not quite the truth. You are the second, for the first was a Lady Rutherford, who seemed to know of my true character before sh
e even had the opportunity to greet me.”
A sadness lit his eyes and Josephine felt something tighten in her heart—but she pushed the feeling aside and did not allow it to linger. Now was not the time to permit her emotions to take a hold of her. She had to remain practical and entirely focused on her intentions for Lord Farrington. Whilst she was rather surprised to hear all that he had said and was almost convinced by the expressions that mounted in his features, Josephine reminded herself that Lord Farrington was a man well used to doing what he had to in order to achieve the outcome he desired. He might well be putting on a farce for her benefit, just as she was doing at present.
“I have tried to do what I can in order to bring you near,” Lord Farrington continued heavily, “but you have shown me that it has been in vain. When you spoke to me at luncheon, when you made it clear that the company I had been enjoying at present would be removed from me, I began to realize that my own plans had failed entirely.” Rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand, he sat up a little straighter and looked back at her with such an intensity in his gaze that, for a moment, Josephine feared he would be able to see directly through her veil. Another hard laugh left him and a tremor ran through Josephine’s frame, making her hands tighten on the arms of the chair.
“It is not as difficult as you might suppose, speaking of my misdemeanors,” he continued, confusing her a little. “I was not always as I am at present.”
“I do not really care to hear you reminiscing, Lord Farrington,” Josephine interrupted, aware that she spoke rather harshly but wanting to ensure that he was not trying to make her feel sympathetic toward him. “The matter at hand is—”
“No, but it is of importance,” Lord Farrington suddenly threw himself up from his chair, rubbing one hand through his hair and looking, to Josephine’s eyes, rather wild. “If I am to consider what it is I have done that has insulted or upset your uncle or someone near to your uncle, then I must return to the moment that I began to change from the gentleman I was to the gentleman the ton knows now.”