Lady Beresford's Lover (2 page)

More tea arrived, and she busied herself fixing a cup for Clara. Vivian’s thoughts turned to Lord Beresford’s reaction to her companion and Silvia’s behavior in response. Sparks had definitely flown, and he had seemed not only angry but embarrassed that she was present. Was there something between them other than childhood animosity? If so, why had he proposed to Vivian?

Perdita remained close to Clara, peeking out every once in a while from under her skirts. “Cousin Clara, when did you get a dog? I’ve never known you to have one before.”

Clara stroked the small animal. “We always had hunting dogs, but one of my nephews brought her back from the Peninsula and asked me if I wouldn’t mind keeping her until he found a new owner. They stayed with me for a few weeks while he sorted out his business. She and I just took to each other. I don’t know why I never had a house dog before. She’s an excellent companion.”

“I hope she likes cats. You know I’ve had my Gisila for years and cannot go anywhere without her.” Speaking of her cat, Vivian glanced around and found Gisila under the desk.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine. Perdita normally remains under my skirts. It’s amazing I don’t trip over her.” She turned her attention to Silvia. “Miss Corbet, as you will be residing with me, I believe I would prefer to address you as Silvia, and you may call me Cousin Clara.”

Silvia appeared slightly startled, not a state that happened often or easily. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You may think this is a strange start on my part.” Clara smiled gently. “But I knew your mother when she was a child and your grandmother was a close friend of mine.”

“I had no idea there was even that much of a connection.”

“There is no reason you would have known. Your grandmother died many years ago.”

While her cousin and Silvia chatted, Vivian strolled to the window seat. For the past few months, just the idea of going to Town again had occupied her mind. She had not attended a Season since her first one, and was both excited and frightened. It had been much too long since she’d been around the
haut ton
. At first, she thought merely to attend the smaller entertainments and the theater; now, with Silvia coming out, Clara would insist on their being present at the large balls. Perhaps Vivian would be better served by remaining with the chaperones and older matrons. That would be easier and less fearsome than worrying about dance partners.

The other business she must be about was finding a small estate. Her mother had offered to bring Vivian home after her husband died, but she’d had a feeling then that she could not go back to her parents, and nothing had occurred to change her mind. It was time to strike out on her own.

To have a home where what she said was the law, and the sooner the better. After all, that was the most she could expect from her life.

Departing on the morrow was easily done and for the best. She stepped into the corridor and found one of the maids. “Please tell my maid and Miss Corbet’s maid that we shall require our trunks packed immediately. Also, have Lady Telford’s bags placed in the green room, and inform Cook we’ll have a guest at dinner.”

The maid bobbed a curtsey and hurried off.

Vivian slipped back into the morning room.

If only she was the type of widow who could take a lover, but what sane man would want a lady with a deformed body? Her husband’s cousin could not possibly know about her problem; otherwise he would never have suggested marriage. She supposed she should be glad Edgar had not discussed it. Thankfully, her clothing covered the worst defect. No, other than as dancing partners, gentlemen had no place in her life; or, rather, they would not want her in theirs.

 

“R
upert.”

Rupert, Earl of Stanstead, turned as his cousin Robert, Viscount Beaumont, caught up with him. “I thought you were coming home with me. Elizabeth has been asking for you.”

“Elizabeth is only six months old,” Rupert pointed out. “She is much too young to ask for anyone.”

“Nonsense, she’s extremely advanced for her age.” Robert’s whole demeanor changed when he talked about his family. It was as if he had entered a land where nothing could make him sad or angry.

“Sorry. I was waylaid by Lord Banks.” Rupert ran his palm down his face. “I’ll go with you now.” Before Robert had met his wife, Serena, he’d been the worst rake in England. Now his world revolved around his wife and baby daughter. Rupert had never before seen such a sudden and permanent transformation.

His cousin’s gaze sharpened. “What did Banks say to you to put you in such a foul mood?”

“He warned me away from his daughter.” Not that Rupert had any clear idea who the girl was, but apparently she’d been part of a bevy of young ladies walking in the Park yesterday. “I am too young to have serious intentions, and he’d thank me not to raise her hopes. He has five other daughters and needs to marry this one off as soon as may be.” Robert’s lips tightened, and Rupert went on. “He did say that the girl he has coming out in about six years might do. By then, I’d be of sufficient age and maturity.”

“Damn,” Robert swore softly.

“My thoughts precisely, even if I can’t remember her. I expect to hear similar warnings from other fathers. He suggested I find a mistress.”

“You have one already.” Robert linked his arm with Rupert’s as they strolled down the street toward St. James’s Park.

“I
had
one.” Rupert paused, selecting his words. “It is not what I want. After seeing the arrangements my mother and father and you and Serena have, as well as our other friends, I desire nothing more than a wife.”

His cousin was quiet for a few moments as they strode through Green Park. “I don’t wish to dissuade you. Quite frankly, I don’t think I could. You suffer what I now call ‘the Beaumont syndrome.’ ”

“I beg your pardon?” Rupert wasn’t sure if it was an insult or not. “What do you mean by that?”

“Don’t get on your high horse. It means when we want something we go after it and damn all else to hell. I did it with Serena. Even your mother did it with your father when she was young.”

Robert had compromised Serena. If it had not been for their grandmother and Serena’s family whisking her off to France, he might never have admitted he loved her. Rupert could hardly blame only his mother for engaging in relations with his father when they were young. There had been no way for them to know the part her father would play.

“You found partners.” Rupert shrugged, not understanding what his cousin was saying. “Someone with whom you could have an
affaire de cœur
. Which is what I desire above all else.”

“You must look at how we went about pursuing our loves.” Robert’s brows drew together. “I almost lost Serena, and your mother did lose Edward for years.” He paused again. “Ever since my wedding, you’ve been intent on marriage. What I think you should consider is whether or not you are giving yourself the time to find the right lady. For the better part of a year you pursued Miss Manning, even after she’d made it clear that she wanted a different sort of life from what you offered. One cannot have a successful marriage when one’s goals are not the same.”

“I hadn’t thought of it in quite that way.” Rupert had to give the devil his due. He
had
been so focused on gaining Miss Manning’s hand in marriage, he’d failed to even notice her interest in Lord Peter and that gentleman’s interest in her. They both wanted nothing more than the life of a diplomat. She would have been miserable living in England all the time.

As for being too young, Rupert felt much older than his years. He had come into his title at an early age, and even when he’d been on his Grand Tour he had missed his estate and his seat in the Lords. Now that he had returned, and despite his age, he was becoming influential in political circles. “What do you suggest?”

“Stand back a bit.” They had been strolling in the general direction of Berkeley Square when Robert stopped walking and faced Rupert. “At some point, there will be a lady whom you cannot ignore. She will dominate every waking thought and haunt your dreams. You’ll want to fight every man who asks her to dance or accompanies her during the Grand Strut.”

“You make it sound like an obsession.” Rupert had used a light tone, trying to lessen his cousin’s seriousness.

“In a way, it is.” Robert nodded slowly, and glanced away. “Yet it’s vastly more confounding. When you meet the lady you truly love, you would gladly lay down your life for her.”

“Is that what you felt for Serena?”

His cousin gave a harsh laugh. “All that and more. Nothing could compare. Later, after I’d almost lost her, I realized that what I’d thought was love, before her, was a weak imitation.” He glanced over at Rupert. “Did you feel that way about Miss Manning?”

He shook his head. “No.” After what his cousin had just said, it was clear he had never experienced that type of strong emotion. “She was beautiful, and I thought I was in love, but when she told me she had formed an attachment to Lord Peter, I felt nothing but sadness that it hadn’t worked out.”

They turned off Piccadilly onto Berkeley Street, which would lead them to Robert’s residence in Berkeley Square.

“Then I’d say you have not yet met the woman you were meant to be with.”

“How did you know Serena was the right one?”

“From the first time I saw her on that huge roan of hers, I couldn’t get her out of my mind.” His cousin grinned. “It was a damn good thing too.”

From what Rupert had heard, Serena had put his cousin through his paces before she’d agreed to marry him. Even Grandmamma had supported Serena’s flight to France to avoid being forced to wed Robert before he admitted he loved her. Robert had been right about Rupert’s mother and father. His parents had been separated for years before they could finally wed, only a little over a year ago. Grandfather Beaumont had married Mama off to old Lord Stanstead’s only son when she was pregnant with Rupert. Papa’s uncle had arranged a marriage for him, and the fact that Mama was increasing was kept from him. Not that Rupert, even now, was able to acknowledge his father as anything more than a step-father, but at least now he knew and was grateful that he’d not been the get of his mother’s first husband. He was also glad the title had come directly from the gentleman he had loved as his grandfather, bypassing the man who was legally his father. Although there had been a time last year, after the truth came out, when he would gladly have planted both his grandfathers facers if they’d been alive.

Now that he gave it some thought, perhaps love wasn’t something one could dictate or maneuver to occur when one wished it. Still, what was he supposed to do? Wait around until Cupid shot him with an arrow? Arrange for fairy dust? Surely, there was some way to hurry the process along.

When they arrived at Berkeley Square, the door to his cousin’s house opened, and the butler bowed. “Welcome home, my lord. Her ladyship and Miss Elizabeth are in the morning room.” The man took Rupert’s hat and cane. “It’s good to see you again, my lord. Lady Malfrey and her son are also in the morning room.”

Rupert wondered how much the butler, an old family retainer, knew about his birth—most likely the whole thing. Fortunately, Robert’s servants never gossiped outside of the house.

Rupert quickened his step. All his life he’d wanted a real family, including a brother or sister, and now he had one.

Robert opened the door, and Serena glanced up from the floor where baby Elizabeth, Rupert’s mother, and his brother, Daniel, were playing. The children had been born less than a month apart. Rupert held out his arms.

Daniel pushed to his knees and rocked, then latched on to the low round table, and pulled himself up.

Rupert sat on the floor next to his brother and the baby made one step before falling into his arms. “You’re growing much too quickly. The next thing I know, you’ll be walking.”

“Rup, Rupie,” Daniel chortled.

“When did he start that?” The last time Rupert had seen his brother he’d only just said “mama.”

His mother beamed. “You were starting to talk as well as holding on to tables and walking around them when you were his age. I expect he’ll be the same.”

Activity was not the only way in which they’d be alike. Daniel had the same pale blond curls Rupert, his mother, and Robert had. The mark of a Beaumont. But each also had their father’s gray eyes.

Tea was brought in, and a half hour later, Edward, Baron Malfrey—Daniel and Rupert’s father—entered the room. Papa’s gaze went straight to Mama. “I’m sorry I’m late, my sweet. I was held up in a meeting.”

She smiled softly, love shining in her eyes. “It’s no matter. You are here now.”

Daniel quickly switched his allegiance to Papa. “Papa, Papa.”

Edward swung the baby into his arms and laughed. “I’ve returned. Were you worried I wouldn’t?”

That was exactly what Rupert wanted. The only question was, how long would he have to wait until the right lady entered his life? He hoped it wouldn’t be past this Season.

 

After an early breakfast the following morning, Vivian and Silvia were handed up into Clara’s huge, opulent traveling coach. The vehicle was painted cherry red, piped in gold, with her crest on both sides of the body. Inside it had deep blue velvet seats and squabs. Extra cushions were tossed around as well. Neatly folded blankets were strapped to overhead racks, as well as a picnic basket. Silvia’s and Vivian’s trunks had been added to the baggage carriage. Gisila lay quietly in her traveling box, and Perdita lay on a cushion at Clara’s feet.

Vivian gave a prayer of thanks that she hadn’t heard from Lord Beresford again before they left. Although considering she’d given him no notice of her departure, and, against all odds, Clara had managed to shove them out the door before ten o’clock, that was scarcely surprising. He had not said anything about coming to Town, and Vivian hoped he would not. Or at least not for her. Still, the more she considered it, the greater her conviction that Silvia would make a good match for him. If he showed up in Town, Vivian would have a word with her cousin. Unlike Vivian, who had always felt like an outsider at Beresford, Silvia would be perfect. She already commanded a great deal of respect in the area.

Their first night on the trip, Vivian noticed a couple at the inn her cousin had chosen. The two were obviously in love. Although there was nothing untoward in their behavior, it was clear they could not wait to be alone. That was what she had thought she would have in her marriage. She longed for a lover’s touch, yet she’d be devastated if another man looked at her with the same revulsion her husband had. The only way such tenderness would ever come her way was if the man never saw her body. Yet how would she ever arrange such a thing?

She stifled a sigh. If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride. There would be no lover and most definitely no husband.

She would take advantage of this visit to Town. The important part was it took her away from Beresford Abbey and gave her time to find other living arrangements. Thanks to her father’s insistence on a generous settlement, she was far from destitute.

“Is something wrong, my dear?” Clara had apparently stopped talking to Silvia.

“Not at all.” Vivian smiled brightly. “I’m just so very happy to be visiting London again. My late husband”—she did like saying the
late
part—“insisted I remain on the estate to run it in his absence. As a result, I have not been there since I married.”

There was no point in mentioning that instead of allowing her to accompany him to London and actually attending the Lords as he said he did, he’d given his proxy to another peer and taken his mistress to Town. Posing as husband and wife, they had lived in Marylebone, an area catering to middling merchants. Not that Vivian had known about the deception until just before he died.

What she should do was swear off all gentlemen, forever. Other than her father, when he wasn’t out looking at dogs, and her brothers, they were not to be trusted. Maybe not even them. She could recall some rousing rows between her parents and a time when her eldest brother walked on egg shells around his wife for several weeks. Her husband hadn’t cared at all when she’d discovered his perfidy. In fact, he had been relieved he need no longer hide his behavior.

Vivian removed her gloves, folded them tidily, and placed them in her reticule. Clara was telling Silvia about the entertainments she could expect to attend during the Little Season, and Vivian listened. The plans terrified her. Surely she could find some society of ladies doing good works, or something to become involved in that could be her excuse for not attending the parties.

 

Two days later, they drew up in front of a large town house on Mount Street. Even though they had stopped along the way, and found their lodgings well before sunset so that Vivian and Silvia could walk, they were all tired of being cooped up in the coach.

Perdita and Gisila had formed a friendship of sorts, sometimes sleeping next to one another in the coach or in a private parlor. Each animal was still happier to remain with her own mistress than anything else.

“Here we are,” Clara said as the coach came to a halt. “I shall send a note to my modiste immediately.” She continued talking as they climbed down from the carriage and entered the house. “Silvia, I’ll show you to your chambers. We shall meet in the drawing room at six o’clock. I know you are used to country hours, and I wish to be up early and out to-morrow morning. We have a busy day ahead of us.”