The Bedding Proposal Part 21

"Do I seem like the sort who's given to telling tales?"

"No, of course you are not. Still, I should like your promise anyway."

He gave her a long look, half-amused, half-exasperated. "Fine. You have my word as a gentleman. Now what is all this about?"

"Tilly thinks Henry-Lord Cathcart, that is-may be having an affair. But he and Tilly have always had a very strong, loving marriage and an affair just doesn't seem like him."

"Sometimes appearances can be deceiving." He drew a tile out of the boneyard.

"They can, yes." She knew all about false appearances, maybe better than anyone. "But from what Tilly told me, I think it's something else rather than someone else."

"And you were hoping I could help find out?" He played the three he'd just drawn.

She scowled. "Yes, but since you do not know him-"

"I know people. I can make a few discreet inquiries, if you'd like. a.s.suming you don't feel it will violate my promise."

She paused for a moment, thinking of Tilly's plea. "No, I'm sure I can trust you. Thank you."

His eyes turned serious. "No thanks are necessary. And you can trust me, Thalia. With anything. I hope you will remember that."

"I will," she said perfunctorily. Looking away, she studied the board.

Trust wasn't something she did well anymore. She'd faced too much heartache, known too many betrayals to have much faith in the supposed goodness of humankind.

Yet to her great surprise, she realized she was coming to trust Leo. She had no particular reason to do so. He wanted her, and had made it quite clear he'd do almost anything to have her. Not much reason to trust.

But just as she'd believed him when he promised he wouldn't lie to her, she found herself believing him in this as well.

Still, it was a great leap. Just as everything else seemed to be when it came to him.

Deciding to put it all out of her mind for the moment, she reached for a fresh tile.

Chapter 18.

A week later, Leo sat at his desk in the study, whistling a tune under his breath as his pen moved across the paper.

"What are you so happy about?" Lawrence asked as he came into the room.

Without looking up, Leo added his signature to a letter he'd been writing, then laid down his quill. "Why do you think I'm happy?"

"You're whistling. You only whistle when you're in a particularly good mood."

Leo laughed. "I suppose you're right. I'm taking Lady Thalia to the theater tonight. It took some convincing, but she's agreed."

"I thought she was injured? Sprained ankle, I believe you said."

"I did and it's healed nicely. We made a first outing yesterday in the carriage. It went so well, I convinced her to join me this evening."

"At the theater? Are you planning to use the family box?"

"Of course." Leo's voice hardened slightly. "You can hardly expect us to sit with the rabble in the pit. She is a lady, I'll remind you."

Lawrence paused. "Yes, she is. This just seems a bit . . . public. Have things gone that far?"

"Far enough, and soon to go farther. Since when did you become such a stick-in-the-mud? You're worse than Ned at his most dour."

"I'll have to remember to tell our big brother you said that about him when next we meet."

"He's aware of my opinion about his humorless moods and general inability to have fun, though he's much improved since he married Claire. She and the children keep him human."

"They do. Just before we left Braebourne, I caught them all outside on the lawn laughing while he took turns giving piggyback rides."

"I'm sorry I missed seeing that. But I was privy to Jack making daisy chains with his girls. Little Ginny had even talked him into wearing one around his neck. Now, that was a sight worthy of a portrait. If only Esme had shown up in time to do a sketch, we could have hung it in the gallery and immortalized it for all future generations of Byrons to see."

Leo and Lawrence shared a pair of identical grins, then laughed.

"But back to your recent spate of stodgy behavior," Leo said.

Lawrence sobered. "Just because I am more circ.u.mspect in a few of my choices these days doesn't make me stodgy."

"What about meeting with old Lady Higgleston? I heard she's hired you to represent her in a lawsuit against our neighbor Northcote. If my information is right, she's accusing him of licentious conduct and moral turpitude for holding wild parties in his town house."

"He does hold wild parties in his town house. But I haven't agreed to represent her. I just said I'd talk to Northcote and see if some accommodation could be made."

Leo sn.i.g.g.e.red. "That's certainly not going to endear you to Northcote or earn you an invitation to his next baccha.n.a.l. Sure you shouldn't be representing him instead?"

"I told you I am not representing anyone at present. Just mediating between two mutual neighbors in order to keep the peace."

"Ah, so you're a peacekeeper now too?" Leo stood and reached out to lift up one of Lawrence's eyelids. "Are you sure you're really my brother? Maybe a changeling got in one night and took his place?"

Lawrence jerked away. "Ha-ha, very funny. And for your information, I have no wish to be invited to one of Northcote's parties."

Leo laughed in earnest. "Liar."

"I'll remind you that you haven't received an invitation from him either."

"Yes, but I have a woman of my own and no need to sate my l.u.s.t with a bevy of promiscuously inclined beauties."

"Well, neither have I."

Leo crossed his arms. "Really? Do tell?"

"I've taken a new mistress," Lawrence said with a pleased smile. "She's a singer, who recently caught my eye, and we've come to a very comfortable arrangement."

"I had no idea you'd been so busy."

"Probably because you've had one thing-or rather one person-on your mind lately."

"True." Leo grinned.

"Yes, well, I've set my new paramour up with her own cozy little town house a comfortable distance away. It's working out well. Really, Northcote ought to do the same rather than provoking the ire of a prudish old biddy like Lady Higgleston."

An unexpected thought occurred. "Unless that's why he does it? Maybe he wants to be provocative?"

Lawrence tilted his head. "Perhaps. To be frank, whatever his intentions, I don't hold out much hope of coming to an amiable solution between the two of them. But it's worth a try."

"Plus, you're dying to see inside his house. Stories say he has naked harem paintings and a vast collection of other erotic art."

"The stories say he has erotic everything."

"If you manage to get inside, I want all the details."

"And in the meantime?"

"In the meantime, I'll be with Thalia."

Dear Lord Leopold, I am sorry, but Thalia stopped and drew a line through the words. After a moment, she began again.

I know I promised to join you this evening, however No, that wouldn't do either.

I am afraid I am not feeling Well, that was doomed to certain failure. He would see through her excuse in an instant and be knocking on her door in order to check on her health.

Over the past week, he'd become a regular visitor, so she knew the staff would let him in without a second thought. Even Fletcher's initial cool reserve had warmed beneath the force of Leo's cheerful nature and genteel affability. The long and short of it was that in only a few short days, he'd charmed her entire household.

She scowled and glared at the page, which was littered with a sad cross-hatching of black ink; it looked all the worse in the early afternoon sunlight that shone through the drawing room windows. Reaching out, she crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it into the wastepaper basket.

With resolve, she laid a fresh piece of parchment onto her writing desk and began once again. . . .

My dear Lord Leopold, Many thanks again for your kind invitation to accompany you to the theater tonight. Unfortunately, I shall be unable to attend.

There, that should suffice, she thought.

Yet as her pen hovered over the spot where her signature would go, she hesitated, knowing it would not suffice. Leo would want-no, likely demand-an explanation. And what was she going to say?

That she was having second thoughts about this affair he wanted.

That she knew by accompanying him tonight she was tacitly agreeing to be his mistress-declaring it not only to him but to Society at large.

And finally that he would expect to come home with her after their outing and spend the rest of the night in her bed.

She closed her eyes, the memory of his kisses sweet on her lips, the haunting sensation of his hands tempting her beyond measure.

And yet was desire enough?

Was it worth all the trouble that might come after?

Her pen was still hovering indecisively over the page when a light tap came at the door.

"Lady Cathcart, milady," Fletcher said. "Shall I show her in?"

"Certainly." She laid down her pen, quietly relieved by the distraction.

"Tilly," she greeted moments later, crossing to wrap her friend in a warm embrace.

"Oh, it is good to see you so improved," Tilly said, glancing down at Thalia's feet as she stepped back. "Is your ankle completely healed?"

"It is. Only an occasional twinge."

She and Mathilda took seats on the nearby sofa.

Mathilda knotted her hands together in her lap. "I had your note. I came as soon as I could."

Thalia had penned Mathilda just after breakfast that morning. "Fletcher, you may leave us. And close the door, if you would be so good."

The butler bowed and withdrew, shutting the door silently at his back.

"Tell me at once," Mathilda urged. "What have you discovered? I want to know and yet I don't. Silly of me, is it not?"

"No, only human. I'm sorry to prolong your anxiety, but I didn't want to put anything in writing should someone else happen to see."

Mathilda nodded. "Very wise."

"Let me begin with the good news. Lord Cathcart is not having an affair."

"He isn't? Oh, thank G.o.d." Mathilda's shoulders sagged with relief. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. From everything my . . . friend was able to ascertain, there is absolutely no sign of him engaged in a liaison or availing himself of the services of a bawdy house."

"That's wonderful news. I'm so relieved." A brilliant smile stretched over Mathilda's mouth.

But less than a minute later it was gone, a tiny frown creasing her forehead. "But if he is not having an affair, then where is he going? Why is he behaving as he is?"

"That's the other bit of information my friend learned." Thalia reached out and laid a hand over one of Mathilda's. "Tilly, has Henry mentioned anything about the estate?"

"The estate?" Mathilda looked confused. "No. What has that to do with anything?"

"Apparently he mortgaged the farms and a few other parcels of land. Everything, I understand, that is not part of the Lambton entail."

"But the farms bring in most of the income for the estate. And he's mortgaged them? Why?"

"He made a few investments that have gone badly and he needed the money to cover them. The debt is scheduled to come due in the next couple of months. If the money cannot be found, it will mean the forfeiture of all the mortgaged parcels."