A Breach of Promise (3 page)

“Well, what does he say?” Mariah implored.

“I may as well share it with you. I daresay you’ll find this highly diverting.” Lowering her voice an octave and assuming a tone of great self-importance, Lydia read.

My dearest Miss Trent,

It is with the most abject desolation that I have learned of Sir Timothy’s demise. Please believe I am deeply grieved and utterly chagrined that you have attended me so long unanswered.

While my position as undersecretary to the Plenipotentiary General has kept me inordinately occupied with urgent matters of State, even this should not have delayed my response, had I not been at the mercy of the accursed, unpredictable foreign mail service. Having now offered up such a pitiful explanation, I ask that you please accept my most heartfelt condolences at your loss.

At this, Lydia exhaled an exasperated huff. “Can you believe he expects me to swallow this honey-coated tripe?”

“He does
sound
sincere,” Mariah remarked.

“Of course he does! He’s a diplomat. It’s his job to hedge, evade, dither and dissemble.”

“Well, if this letter is representative of those dubious talents, he should have quite a promising future.” Mariah grinned. “What else does he say?”

Lydia continued.

Regarding the further contents of your missive in which you requested an end to our betrothal, nothing, dear Lydia, could be further from my wishes. While I daresay my extended absence might be perceived as apathy to any lady of the least sensibility—let alone one in a heightened state of bereavement—pray believe such an assumption would be far from truth.

While stationed abroad for my extended tour, I dared not even think of you for the torture of my heart, but as the day of my return approached, you ever occupied more of my thoughts and animated my dreams.

Lydia paused. “I’m beginning to fear my stomach may expel my breakfast if I continue.”

Mariah pealed with laughter. “But you can’t stop now. You’re just getting to the good part!”

“What does he think I am? Some lifeless, languishing lack wit? Does he believe I’ve locked myself away all this time, just awaiting the day he would deign to honor his troth? Lackaday, Mariah!” she cried in vexation. “His conceit is beyond credence!”

“But what more does he say of your betrothal?” Mariah prompted.

Lydia scanned the next page. “I can hardly decipher through all this ludicrous flummery. Ah, here it is at last.” She paced the room as she read.

There is nothing I look forward to with greater anticipation than my return home when I shall call immediately upon you. I live in the confidence that any perceived differences between us will promptly be resolved. Until that hour, dearest Lydia, I remain…

Your most humble and willing servant,

Marcus, Lord Russell

“Humble? He doesn’t know the meaning of the word! Can you believe the pure gall of the man?” Lydia finished with an unladylike snort.

“One can’t but remark on his confidence,” Mariah laughed.

Lydia spun around to face her cousin who had knowingly fueled the fire. “Lord Russell is completely deluded if he thinks to placate me.”

“What will you do now, Lyddie? How will you answer him?”

“Regrettably, not as I wish. I would send him straight to the devil but for his darling mother. She was like a sister to my own dear Mum. The two of them conspired this match the day I was born, you know. It would have broken Mama’s heart to know what a feckless rogue he turned out to be. Papa lost patience as well. He spoke more than once of calling Marcus to task—to bring him up to scratch, so to speak.”

“So you would now do so yourself?”

“Ha! I wouldn’t have him now, were he gilded!”

Mariah looked shocked. “Isn’t emasculation a bit harsh?”

“Not gelded, dearest.
Gilded
, as in covered in gold, although
gelding
might well be what he really deserves! No, Mariah,” she replied. “My feelings for Marcus Russell are long dead. No matter what he may say or do, I shan’t be the least moved.”

Chapter Three

Dearest Lydia,

Though my duties at this time preclude any travel outside the capital, I beg that you would accept my most humble invitation to town, where we might discuss this most grievous and distressing misunderstanding. I have taken the liberty of notifying Mother, who has already prepared a set of rooms at Russell House in anticipation of your arrival, where you may be assured of every comfort and accommodation as our most honored guest. The family carriage will be dispatched with all haste upon your reply. Until then, I eagerly await and constantly remain…

Your most humble and willing servant,

Marcus, Lord Russell

“‘Upon my reply,’ he says, as if my answer could be nothing but a swooning yes.” Lydia tossed the letter in the air and watched the elegant parchment float to the floor before she tromped on it.

“So what will you do now?” Mariah asked.

“I suppose nothing prohibits my journey, now that I’m relegated to only half-mourning. Besides that, since James and Alice’s arrival here, I’ve become a guest in my own home. I suppose I may as well be a guest in someone else’s. Do you join me, my dearest cousin?”

Mariah looked wistful for a moment, but then shook her head. “You know how reluctant I am to leave Mama alone to manage Papa. Since his apoplexy, he requires near-constant care and they both fret so when I am not at home.”

“But you really
should
come to town, Mariah. You never had a proper come out. It’s time you thought about your own marriage prospects which your parents have done nothing to promote.”

“Twenty is hardly ancient. I have time.”

“Time passes quickly, Mariah. Just look at me, three-and-twenty and still unwed. I’d hate for you to follow my example.”

“But you at least are betrothed.”

“
Was
betrothed.”

“Aren’t you speaking prematurely? Lord Marcus has agreed to nothing at this point.”

“That will change soon enough. I promise you I will end this great sham at last. I refuse to wait one moment longer on a man who doesn’t want me, regardless of his recent and remarkable protestations to the contrary.”

“Do you intend to seek another husband then?”

“I have little choice now. Had I been married, my home might have passed on through me to my son, but since I am in such an unsettled state, all passes instead to Cousin James. I
need
a home of my own, and I desire children. My wishes should be simple enough to satisfy. Though I once dreamed of a love match, I only now hope for a man who treats me with kindness, courtesy, and a modicum of respect—none of which have I ever seen from Lord Russell.”

Mariah took her cousin’s hand. “You would settle for so little, Lyddie, when you deserve so much?”

Lydia acknowledged her cousin’s concern with a brief squeeze. “I have moved beyond romantic fantasy, Mariah. One must be pragmatic at my age. I would be content with at least the respect of my husband. Given that, affection is sure to follow.”

“Have you already someone else in mind?”

Lydia gave a brief half-smile. “The new vicar, Reverend Thomas Capshaw, seems a very good man, does he not?”

Mariah laughed outright. “You, a vicar’s wife?”

Lydia looked injured. “And why not?”

“I just think you would find it dreadfully stifling. You are by far too liberal-minded and free-spoken is all. Uncle Timothy gave you more license than is usually permitted a woman and I doubt the Reverend Capshaw would be quite so generous-spirited.”

Lydia considered her cousin. “Perhaps you are right, Mariah, but he still seems my best prospect at present. While I have a respectable dowry, I lack your title and properties to attract any higher suitors.”

“At least you don’t have to fear fortune hunters.”

“Poor dear, to be accursed with a title of your own, a large estate and a monstrous fortune,” Lydia teased.

“But it
is
a curse, don’t you see? When I wed, I want it to be for my person not for my purse. ‘Tis why I prefer the obscurity of the country.”

“But you have no prospects at all buried at Morehaven as you are. And that is precisely why you shall accompany me to London.”

* * * * *

My Dear Lord Russell,

In appreciation of your desire to conduct our business in person, I accept your invitation to visit your dearest mother, Lady Russell. My cousin Lady Mariah Morehaven will accompany me.

Yours,

Miss Lydia Albinia Trent

While Lydia did her best to suppress her awe, she had never traveled in such a well-sprung and elegantly appointed equipage. Moreover, the crested coach and six had virtually flown over the post roads, making the sixty-mile journey from Cotesfield Hall to London in less than six hours.

Russell House, a three-story brick manse, was one of the more prominent residences of Bloomsbury Square, dating to the last century, when the Russell family had begun to develop their extensive London holdings. Only Bedford House itself, sitting as proudly as a ducal cornet at the north-center of the square, surpassed it in splendor.

A small army of velvet-liveried footmen met the coach when it clattered to a halt on the cobbles under the portico. While two assisted the ladies to alight, the rest attended to the extensive baggage. Another servant briskly ascended the stairs to announce the arrival to Lady Russell who wafted down the staircase to greet her guests.

“My dear, dear child! Look at you, a woman grown.” Bussing Lydia’s cheeks in the Continental manner, she turned to Mariah. “How lovely to meet you at last, Baroness Morehaven.”

The young woman curtseyed with a becoming blush. “Just Mariah, please, my lady.”

“Then you must also address me as Philomena. You must be exhausted after your journey. Would you care for refreshment or would you prefer a brief respite before supper?”

Looking from her cousin to her hostess, who appeared brimming with expectation, Mariah answered with a smile. “You both have much to catch up on. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll take a short rest.”

“Absolutely, my dear. The rooms are prepared and the servants will anon tend to the unpacking. Pray consider my home your own. Dobbs will escort you.” A wave of her hand executed the command. “An exceedingly tactful miss is your cousin,” Lady Russell remarked to Lydia.

“I only wish it ran in my side of the family.” Lydia laughed.

“Never say so, child. You are very much like your mother who had your same charming and refreshing lack of guile. Now, we
do
have much to catch up on. Perhaps we should take tea in my private chambers?”

Lady Russell was aghast. “You mean to tell me you have not laid eyes on Marcus for
six years
?”

“Indeed so. He only came once after our betrothal to pay his respects to my father. Although to be fair, they did maintain an ongoing, if somewhat sporadic, correspondence. I have heard nothing more from him before these last few months.”

The elder woman patted her hand. “Then it’s no surprise you would feel as you do. But now you are here, Marcus shall soon make amends.”

“I’m afraid you misapprehend my purpose, Philomena. Though it pains me for your sake to say so, I no longer have any wish to marry Marcus. I have come to London only to request an end to our betrothal.”

“But my dear, you act in such haste!”

“Six years is hardly haste, ma’am,” Lydia remarked wryly.

“You should hear him out before coming to such an irrevocable decision. In truth, I take much blame upon myself for not prodding Marcus. Yet he was so single-minded to establish himself with the diplomatic service that I feared pressuring him to marry would only have caused resentment.”

“No doubt!” Lydia agreed. “He expressed as much the night of our engagement, but I was moonstruck. Marcus has never shown me more than polite indifference. I now realize that is not enough for me. In truth, I would almost rather he despised me than merely tolerated my existence.”

Lady Russell puckered her brow. “You would have a future husband despise you? How extraordinary!”

“Indeed, my lady! For antipathy is at least a form of passion! Even negative emotion can sometimes be turned around, but what can be done when no feeling exists at all? I will not wed a man only to live as indifferently as strangers.”

“My dear, given sufficient time…”

Lydia sighed. “For nearly six years I clung to that foolish hope, but time appears to have only been my enemy. He truly doesn’t want me. He never did.”

“But my dear, you do not know men,” Lady Russell consoled. “They are undeniably obtuse. The daft creatures never know what they want until it’s placed under their noses.” She smiled and clasped the young woman’s hand with a conspiratorial look. “You have now come to town, Lydia. Ergo, he will want you.”