by Joyce Alec
They stood like this for a moment or two, with neither speaking. Josephine felt her breath catch but forced herself to look away, finding the intensity of his gaze a little too overpowering. Lord Farrington cleared his throat, smiled at no one in particular, and then led her forward into the assembly.
“Good evening, Lord Farrington.”
Even without so much as glancing at the gentleman who spoke, Josephine knew that this man was, without a doubt, Lord Timothy. The way Lord Farrington’s whole body stiffened told her as much, but she forced a smile to her face and turned toward him, just as Lord Farrington bowed. She had to feign interest in the introduction, at the very least, although she had no intention of stepping out to dance with him or any such thing.
“Good evening, Lord Timothy,” Lord Farrington replied, glancing toward Josephine. “Might you permit me to introduce the Marchioness of Rutherford? Lady Rutherford, this is Lord Timothy Telford.”
Josephine pressed one hand to her heart, painting on an astonished expression. “Oh, but we are related, are we not?” she asked, reaching out one hand toward him, which he took at once. “You are my brother-in-law.”
Lord Timothy smiled, although it did not reach his eyes. “And a very poor one at that!” he exclaimed, bowing over her hand. “I have been less than diligent in my communications with you, Lady Rutherford, and did not even attend your wedding, from what I remember.”
She tilted her head and studied him, keeping her eyes a little wide with evident astonishment. “No, you did not,” she said quietly. “But my late husband assured me that there was an important reason you did not, although he could not disclose it to me at the time.” Trying to smile and resisting the urge to pull her hand away from him, Josephine continued in a light, airy voice. “I am certain that whatever it was must have been of great importance,” she said firmly. “Although I am glad to make your acquaintance now, Lord Timothy.”
“As am I,” he said, finally letting go of her hand, which she quickly placed on Lord Farrington’s arm, her other hand still looped underneath it. “I hear that Lord Farrington has encouraged you to court him.” He chuckled, eyeing Lord Farrington carefully. “I do hope that he is the right match for you, Lady Rutherford, and that he will treat your son well.”
Josephine’s stomach tightened but she forced a small laugh. “I shall not be induced into singing Lord Farrington’s accolades at present,” she said, glancing up at Lord Farrington, who was, she noticed, frowning. “And yes, I am certain that there will be a settled and suitable relationship between Lord Farrington and my son, should that be required.” She looked back at Lord Timothy, trying to make it appear as though something had only just occurred to her. “And you must become acquainted with Henry also, Lord Timothy. I am sure he should like to meet his uncle.”
Lord Timothy inclined his head. “I should be honored to do so,” he said with apparent humbleness. “When should be a suitable time?” His eyes turned to Lord Farrington, but Josephine did not say anything in response for a few moments, frowning gently and trying to make it appear as though she was thinking as to when would suit them all.
Lord Farrington cleared his throat. “You are to have your dinner party soon,” he said quietly, as though to remind her. “Would it be too much trouble to…?” Leaving the question unfinished, he shrugged one shoulder and Josephine immediately smiled brightly at him, pretending she was delighted with his suggestion.
“Should you like to join my dinner party?” she asked eagerly. “I cannot promise that Henry will be in attendance, for he is still so very small and gets very tired, but at the very least, I shall be able to allow you to see him, even if he is asleep.” She smiled fondly, thinking of her son. “He is very much like his father.” These last words were spoken with great feeling and, when she looked up, she saw Lord Timothy nodding his head gravely, before reaching out both hands toward her.
Josephine had no other choice but to take them, all the more astonished when he lifted first one and then the other to his lips, before squeezing them lightly.
“You are most considerate, Lady Rutherford,” Lord Timothy replied with evident gratitude. “Even when I have been the most dreadful of relatives, you treat me with kindness and understanding.” Letting go of her hands, he smiled at her. “I should be honored to attend, Lady Rutherford, thank you.”
Her stomach was tight with anxiety. Her brow was deeply furrowed, her hands clenching and unclenching as though she did not know what to do with them. And the guests would be arriving at any moment.
“You look quite pale, Josephine.”
Josephine started as Lady Fortescue came into the room, managing to give her the smallest of smiles. “I am very anxious indeed,” she told her as Lady Fortescue poured the smallest measure of brandy into a glass and brought it toward her. “What if Lord Timothy does not do as we expect? Then what am I to do?” Her breathing quickened, her hand trembling as she took the glass from her friend. “My son will be in grave danger.”
“Then do not allow yourself to think upon the future,” Lady Fortescue replied firmly. “Think only of tonight.” Encouraging her to drink, Lady Fortescue waited until Josephine had taken the smallest of sips. “I find myself often considering what might be and what might not be, but if I force myself to consider only this day, sometimes only this moment, then I find my troubles are quashed.” She smiled sympathetically at Josephine, who immediately recalled the difficulties that Lady Fortescue faced.
“I am so terribly sorry that I have not once asked about your husband,” she told Lady Fortescue, who simply shook her head and smiled. “How does he fare?”
Lady Fortescue pressed Josephine’s hand. “It will not be long now,” she said calmly. “I am prepared.” A small, sad smile played about her mouth. “He does not want me in his bedchamber. I have been told to depart and not to return until he is well.” Her eyes shone with glistening tears. “My husband, even in his illness and pain, thinks I am weak and sorrowful and of no comfort to him. I shall not see him again, I do not think.”
Josephine did not know what to say and so instead simply embraced her friend. Just as she was about to say something about Lord Warwick, the door opened again and Lord Farrington stepped inside, making to speak and then realizing he had come upon a private situation.
“Forgive me,” he began, only for Lady Fortescue to shake her head and move away.
“I should go to Lord Warwick,” she said, referring to how he was now ensconced in a small room at the top of the staircase. “When Lord Timothy enters, I shall shut the door immediately and turn the key.” Her smile was strong, her expression bold. “He will be able to protect me until you arrive, upon which, of course, I shall unlock the door and allow you in.”
“Lord Timothy will not be able to escape,” Lord Farrington said approvingly. “We shall hurry after him the moment he departs.”
Lady Fortescue smiled, excused herself, and slipped from the room, leaving Josephine and Lord Farrington alone.
“You are anxious,” he said gently, coming toward her. “I can well understand it, but all shall go as planned, I am certain of it.”
“But what do we do thereafter?” Josephine asked hoarsely, reaching out for Lord Farrington’s hand and finding that she needed his strength to keep her steady. “Even if he admits to it, then—”
“I have it in hand,” Lord Farrington told her reassuringly. “You need only concern yourself with hearing the truth.” His jaw tightened. “Thereafter, the rest shall be given to me.”
Josephine let out her breath slowly, closing her eyes as she did so and trying to draw in strength from somewhere. “This has been a part of my life for five long years,” she said, aware of the tightness in her voice. “To have it now culminating in this evening is rather…” She could not find the word to describe it, opening her eyes to see Lord Farrington looking back at her steadily.
“It must be an extraordinary feeling,” he said as she nodded. “And the knowledge of knowing that
, after this evening, you shall never again be the same person as you were before must be quite overwhelming.”
Nodding, Josephine held his gaze, seeing how the grey in his eyes seemed to swirl around, how his lips pressed together in evident thought.
“I shall never be as I was before,” he told her, his voice soft as he spoke what sounded, to her ears, like a promise. “Ever since you…captured me, shall we say, I have found myself quite broken.”
A little surprised, Josephine lifted her brows. “Broken?”
He nodded, pressing her hand gently. “It is as though ever single piece of myself has been pulled apart and, as I have studied them, as I have seen myself as I truly am, I have been able to piece back together the parts that I wish to keep whilst discarding those that I never want to return to again.” His smile was warm and Josephine felt her tension begin to fade, only to be replaced by a sudden, sharp awareness of just how closely they stood together. “The change has been very quick, I grant you, but if you would permit it, Lady Rutherford, I should like to prove to you that it is of a long duration.”
Catching her breath, Josephine waited for him to say more, to explain what he meant, but Lord Farrington said nothing, simply looking down at her and waiting for her response.
“I—I should not like to discard our acquaintance, once this is at an end,” she found herself saying, much to her own surprise as well as to his. “I am surprised by all that has taken place but your loyalty to the memory of my husband, as well as to myself and my son, has quite convinced me that you are a gentleman of good character—albeit perhaps hidden beneath the gentleman you chose to become.”
“But I shall be him no longer,” Lord Farrington told her fiercely, moving even closer to her still. “I swear I shall never go back to that way of living, that state of being. I have been forced to confront the past and the mistakes and foolhardy things I have done, but with it has come a freedom that will never leave me now.” His breath tickled her cheek. “And I have you to thank for it, Lady Rutherford, although your methods were entirely improper.”
She laughed, aware that he had lightened her spirits a great deal. “Then I shall accept your thanks without hesitation,” she told him teasingly. “And I shall be glad to continue our acquaintance. Truly.”
A smile lit his features and Josephine’s heart began to quicken its pace, aware of the warmth from his hand on hers, of their nearness and of her eagerness to draw all the closer to him. It was ridiculous, of course, but try as she might, she could not step away from him.
“Lady Rutherford,” Lord Farrington murmured, “I—”
A scratch came at the door and Josephine started in surprise, stepping away from Lord Farrington and brushing down her skirts quickly. She drew herself up and felt the heat pouring into her cheeks as she glanced at him.
“The first of my guests,” she murmured as he nodded and smiled reassuringly. “Am I presentable?”
Lord Farrington’s gaze was warm. “More than presentable, Lady Rutherford,” he told her. “You are beautiful.” With a lift of his chin, he gestured toward the door, not allowing his words to linger. “Then shall we begin?”
Josephine nodded, her blush deepening at his compliment. “Do come in,” she called and, within a moment, the door opened and the butler stepped in to announce the arrival of her first guest.
14
“I think, ladies, that it is time we left the gentlemen to their port.”
Thomas watched as Lady Rutherford rose to her feet, a small smile playing about his mouth. Given that their ruse was that he was courting Lady Rutherford, the ton were already snapping up the news and both he and Lady Rutherford had been subject to a few questions by various guests that evening. He had seen Lady Rutherford blush and had himself smiled broadly, hoping that such reactions gave an authenticity to their pretense.
Although, he considered, to do so properly would be something he would like very much indeed. Where such an attachment to Lady Rutherford had come from, he could not say, but given that he had been quite unable to remove her from his thoughts when she had been within society before, it was hardly surprising that it had grown into something much more profound.
“You can barely take your eyes from her,” Lord Timothy said loudly as the last of the ladies closed the door. “Goodness, what a hold she has on you.”
Thomas allowed himself a begrudging smile as the other gentlemen chuckled.
“I find her extraordinary,” he said honestly. “Although I am sure I am not the first gentleman to lose their head and their heart over a lady.” This brought a few knowing chuckles and smiles from the other gentlemen around the table and, thankfully for Thomas, the other gentlemen soon began to talk of other things, allowing him to lapse into silence. Lord Timothy was in the midst of it all, talking and laughing and drinking port just as Thomas would have expected.
However, when someone suggested that they then go through to join the ladies, Thomas saw the smile disappear from Lord Timothy’s face and, instead, there came a rather grave look, as though he was about to face something very serious indeed.
Thomas rose from the table with the other gentlemen and then did his best to walk nonchalantly toward the door, all the while making quite certain he knew where his quarry was. Lord Timothy lingered near the back of the procession and Thomas had no other choice but to follow ahead, leaving Lord Timothy behind.
“Good evening, ladies,” cried one gentleman, already a little merry from the amount of liquor he had consumed. “We are come to join you at last.”
Lady Rutherford laughed, although Thomas did not miss how she looked at him with a questioning glance.
“And you are just in time,” she said, rising to her feet. “For these ladies and I have just been discussing which of us shall play and sing for your entertainment this evening, and we have at least six ready and waiting to do so. So,” she continued, gesturing to the empty chairs, “if you will all choose a seat, then the entertainment can begin.”
Thomas dared a glance over his shoulder, quickly realizing that Lord Timothy was not present. Looking back at Lady Rutherford, he gave her a very small nod, which she acknowledged with a tight smile.
“First, we have Lady Margaret,” she said brightly. “Lady Margaret, if you would be so good as to take your seat at the pianoforte?”
It did not take long for the lady to begin and, just as she did so, Lady Rutherford approached Thomas carefully, stopping only to speak to another lady who nodded and smiled before returning her attention to Lady Margaret’s performance.
Thomas did not say a word but waited until Lady Rutherford had stepped through the door before he quickly followed her, waiting until the door closed gently behind them both before he spoke.
“Lady Robertson will continue things on my behalf, if I am tardy,” Lady Rutherford said hurriedly, reaching to grasp his hand with her own. “Lord Timothy is not present, I see.”
“He is not,” Thomas replied with a grimace. “I noted that he left the dinner table near to the end of the group, meaning that he could easily slip away. Did he speak to you about your son?”
Lady Rutherford’s hand tightened on his. “I did. I told him that I was truly sorry, but Henry had retired to bed, mentioning that it was close to my own.” She swallowed hard, a slight tremor in her voice as they hurried toward the staircase. “Whilst the townhouse is an excellent size, it will not have taken him long to find the right room.”
“But Lord Warwick and Lady Fortescue will be there,” he reminded her. “They will have secured him.”
“I hope so,” Lady Rutherford breathed, her worry clear in her voice. “I pray so.”
Thomas said nothing more as he climbed the staircase hand in hand with Lady Rutherford. There was no need for him to ask which door they were to go to, for as soon as they approached, he could hear the sound of raised voices.
“They have him,” he said, aware of his quickened breathing. “I can hear Lord Timothy’s voice.”
Lady Rutherford said nothing, coming to a stop just outside the door. Turning to him, she pressed his hand and took a deep breath. And then, with a nod, she turned and rapped once on the door.
“Ah, how very good to see you.”
Lord Warwick stood directly in front of Lord Timothy as Lady Fortescue closed the door behind them.
“Lord Timothy has appeared, as you can see,” Lord Warwick continued, gesturing to Lord Timothy, who was, much to Thomas’ astonishment, sitting in a chair without evident complaint. His face was hard with anger, his skin mottled and his eyes flint. There was a redness to one side of his face and, as Thomas shot a look toward Lord Warwick, he saw his friend smile ruefully and then shrug, as though to say that he had not had any other choice but to plant a facer on Lord Timothy.
“What is the meaning of this, Lady Rutherford?” Lord Timothy demanded. “I am merely lost, rather than—”
Lady Rutherford took a step forward, cutting the air with her hand and silencing Lord Timothy.
“Your lies will not save you,” she said, her voice quiet and yet filled with a strength that seemed to fill every corner of the room. “You were not lost, Lord Timothy. You came in search of my son, in the hope that you might remove him from this earth, just as you did my husband.”
Thomas turned his gaze back to Lord Timothy. Nothing more was said and the man himself did not react. Instead, he simply regarded Lady Rutherford, his face devoid of expression as the four present looked back at him in return.
“Your son is not here, it seems,” Lord Timothy said eventually, when it became clear that Lady Rutherford had nothing further to add. “That was something of a lie, Lady Rutherford.”
“It is nothing compared to what you have done,” Thomas spat, a fiery ball of anger burning hot within his core. “Some five years ago, you hid the truth from us all. Lord Rutherford was too good a gentleman to ever tell us what had occurred, wishing to protect the little that was left of your reputation.”