Love's Justice (Entangled Scandalous) (6 page)

Chapter Eleven

“Well, what did you think of her? What happened after you left us at the prince’s party?”

Lord Percy leaned forward in his tufted leather seat in the library of Boodle’s, the gentlemen’s club that had been founded in seventeen hundred and sixty-two. The club reeked of wealth and power. Its location at 28 James Street had guaranteed its popularity for over a hundred years. The red brick building, with its large arched window over the entrance, was a stop for many a man between his wife and his mistress. It was bastion of the peers of England, and no woman had ever sullied its threshold.

“Think of whom?” Hugh leaned back in his chair and set the copy of the
London Times
that he had been reading on his lap.

“Don’t be dense, man! You know what I mean.”

“Your little ploy to force me into her company was not lost on me, you know.”

Percy laughed and sat back in his chair across from Hugh.

“You seem to find so little pleasure in anything that I believed, as one of your best friends, I was doing you a great favor. When was the last time you gambled or drank a tad too much? When was the last time you”—he hesitated a moment— “found pleasure with a woman?”

Hugh laughed. “I won’t have to ask you that question, will I, Percy?”

“I can’t help it if Edith and I procreate like rabbits,” his friend objected. “You should try it. It might improve your dour image.”

“Try what? Your wife?” Hugh said good-naturedly, hoping to change the subject.

“No, my good man. Get yourself your own wife. They can be a wonderful thing.”

“No doubt, your wife has been a blessing to you. I am not sure I have ever met a woman who could put up with me. I’m afraid I will die an old and grumpy bachelor.”

“So, you’re saying nothing happened between you and Miss Westwood? She seemed a bit upset when she left the party.”

“What do you think would have happened between us? That I embraced her and kissed her wantonly?”

“No, no, of course not. I know you too well to expect such ungentlemanly conduct from you. I hoped perhaps you enjoyed some fine conversation is all.”

Hugh smiled. His ploy had worked flawlessly. He did not want to lie to his friend. Neither did he wish to discuss the actions and feelings that had come as a surprise even to him.

“We talked little. It is probably for the best. She is pressing her case before my court, after all.”

“Yes, I suppose so. I just saw a spark of interest there, that’s all.” Percy ran a hand through his hair.

A waiter approached. Lord Percy ordered, “A brandy.” After the man left, he went on, “I see Stanford is gambling again. It’s amazing he is still given credit. I have to believe his dealings with the usurers will eventually catch up with him. Those ruffians don’t settle things quietly. I’ve heard of at least one mysterious death attributed to the East End bully boys.” He shook his head.

Hugh leaned forward. “I suspect Stanford is given credit on the belief he will be getting a large settlement from his suit.”

“And will he?” Percy asked. “Because if he doesn’t, it may be his undoing.”

“I don’t prejudge my cases. I will judge on the facts, not rumor and innuendo.”

“Yes, but Stanford is spreading the fact that the relationship between he and Miss Westwood has already been consummated. Worse yet, he’s saying she wasn’t a virgin when he had her.”

“Stanford’s word is tenuous at best. The man would say anything to guarantee his position and the Westwood woman’s money.” Hugh shook his head in disgust.

“You and I may know that, but the scandal sheets are running the rumors as if they are the truth. I doubt any man would want to embroil himself in that. The lady, I’m afraid, will soon be devoid of friends. She will lose her father, as well, if Stanford’s suit fails.”

“What do you know of her father?” Hugh’s interest was piqued.

“They say he is a ruthless businessman. No doubt you have dealt with this kind of father before.”

“You don’t have to mince words, Percy. My father was, indeed, ruthless. He drove both my brothers from England. He would have driven me out as well but for…”

“Why did you stay, Monty? You would have inherited regardless of where you went, but you stayed. I never understood it. If my father had been that cruel and unforgiving, I think I would have fled long ago.”

For a moment, Hugh was lost in thought. Cathy was why he hadn’t fled, why he had endured physical and emotional abuse at the hands of his father. And when his father had died shortly after Cathy, there was no longer any reason to flee. He had spent those early years living down the reputation his father had given the family. Where his father had been reckless, he had shown restraint. His father’s poor business decisions meant every choice he made had to be successful. While his father had dragged the family name through the back alleys and whorehouses of London, he had to be above reproach. In the years since his father’s death, he had gradually restored the family name. More than restored it. He had earned a reputation that was unimpeachable. And now this Westwood woman was threatening it. He couldn’t let it happen. He would regain control over his feelings. That was all there was to it.

“I shouldn’t have said that, Monty. It was unforgivable. Lord knows, we all have our reasons.” Then he added, “There was someone else at the dice tables losing badly.”

“Who was that?”

“Lord Whitney.”

Hugh took in the information for a moment before answering. “I hoped he had broken that bad habit.”

“As did I. He has a pretty young wife, Emily. An American. I believe she brought with her a small fortune. Her father made his money in shipping. I thought Whitney had learned the perils of heavy gambling when he lost his own fortune. It seems his wife, Emily, is a childhood friend of Victoria Westwood. Since Miss Westwood has been in England, they have strengthened that bond.”

“How bad is it? Whitney’s gambling?” Hugh asked.

“Not bad enough to ruin him at the moment, but if he continues, he will once again be a pauper. He manages his land poorly, choosing to spend his days either here or at Brook’s. When his tab gets too far in arrears, he simply changes clubs temporarily.”

Hugh considered the quiet man whose judgment was often poorly framed and even more poorly executed. He personally liked Whitney but he knew only too well the cost of gambling incessantly. He had been involved in Lord Whitney’s previous bankruptcy. He did not look forward to seeing the man in his court once again.

“You said Lady Whitney is a close friend of Miss Westwood’s?”

“Yes, that is how Edith and I met her. She had accompanied Lady Whitney on a visit to Edith. Edith was very impressed with Miss Westwood and would not let it go until we invited the woman back for a dinner. I can say she made the dinner conversation interesting. I would think you would find her very attractive. She seems to share so many of your liberal tendencies. Especially in regard to women’s rights. I remember her saying a woman’s plight was sad, indeed, since she even lacked the means to change the laws in her favor.” Percy laughed. “She is a suffragist, don’t you see. She thinks women should be allowed to vote.”

Hugh didn’t answer. His thoughts had returned to the feisty American woman. To her mind and to her body. He had a visceral reaction to her. Whether that was good or bad, he couldn’t determine.

“Monty?” Percy tried to regain his attention. “Did you even hear a word I said?”

“Yes. I heard.” He didn’t elaborate. He couldn’t frame into words what he thought of the Westwood woman. All he knew was that he wanted to see her again.

“No doubt you are going to be at Syon House for the ball?” Hugh asked. He had received an invitation from the Duke and Duchess of Northumberland, Percy’s parents, to their beautiful home outside of London. The distance from London meant certain guests, including him, had been invited for the entire weekend.

“Of course, I couldn’t avoid it if I wanted to,” Percy said. “Edith always anticipates it so. She’s hoping her pregnancy won’t be showing. She’s determined to go despite her condition.”

“Who else has been invited for the weekend?”

“Oh, all the usual. Stanford will be there, of course, despite my objections. He is family after all.” Suddenly Percy smiled broadly. “You’re wondering if Lord Whitney and his wife have been invited? And perhaps a certain acquaintance of theirs as well?”

Hugh didn’t respond. His friend wasn’t fooled by his demeanor.

Percy laughed. “I will see to it personally. Not to worry.”

“Your brandy, sir.”

The waiter had returned with Percy’s drink. He took a sip and looked at Hugh over the top of the snifter. No doubt he would ask Edith to invite her American friends. She would be beside herself with the news.

Chapter Twelve

Victoria was stunned by the beautiful surroundings outside the carriage window. But even the beauty of the place didn’t relieve her misgivings. “Would it be possible for me to get out here?” The carriage had almost reached Syon House after the ten-mile journey from central London.

“Are you not well?” Emily questioned.

“No, I am quite well. It is but a short distance to the house. I can see a bit of it already. It is quite beautiful. I just need a moment before I join the others.”

“Poor Victoria,” Emily explained to her husband. “She must face Lord Stanford. We have heard he has accepted an invitation as well.”

“That is ill luck for sure,” he commiserated.

Emily took Victoria’s hand. “Let me join you then.”

“No, no. You must arrive with your husband. You know how stubborn and insistent I can be. Leave me to this. It is but a small favor.”

Lord Whitney struck the roof of the carriage with his cane and the vehicle came to a stop. The footman folded down the step and helped Victoria down. “Thank you for humoring me, my dear friend,” she said. “I will see you shortly.”

As the carriage disappeared into the fog and foliage, Victoria took in a deep breath. She could do this. Certainly Lord Stanford would not attempt to confront her in the duke’s home. The chance of anything happening was diminished by Lord Montgomery’s presence as well. Lord Stanford could jeopardize his own case if he acted inappropriately.

She consoled herself with the idea this was the reason she looked forward to Lord Montgomery’s presence. And she almost convinced herself.

She had walked only a short way when the sound of another carriage approaching forced her off the gravel drive. She couldn’t make out the occupant. She was surprised when the carriage came to a stop twenty or so feet past her, her privacy disturbed by some concerned guest.

She hurried forward to assure the occupants she was on foot by choice when the door of the carriage opened.

She stopped abruptly. What cursed luck!

Lord Montgomery stepped out. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, and he gave directions to his coach driver. The horses trotted off, leaving them still some distance from the house at Syon. She was alone with one of the men she had hoped to avoid.

“I’m sorry, my lord. You should not have troubled yourself. I am here by choice. I wanted to enjoy the grandeur of the place at a slower pace.”

“Then let me show you the beauty of Syon. It has been a favorite of mine since I was a boy.” He took her arm and drew her forward at a leisurely pace.

Slowly, out of the fog, a vision appeared. Ghostly white, set amid green lawns that stretched as far as the eye could see, Syon House dominated the view. The structure’s crenellated top suggested the Camelot of legends. As the sun peeked out, the manor house’s surfaces absorbed the light and turned a honeyed shade of cream.

“Yes, it is most beautiful,” Victoria said. It almost made her forget who she was about to face.

“It’s named after Syon Abbey,” Lord Montgomery said. “Henry the Eighth closed the Abbey. He imprisoned Catherine Howard here before she was executed. Even more interesting, Henry’s body was brought to Syon on its way to be buried in Windsor. During the night his coffin opened and the body was found the next morning being eaten by dogs.”

“Not something that would intrigue most women, I would say.” She looked at him and smiled.

“I’m sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair and avoided her gaze.

She laughed. “But as you know, I am not most women. And I find it infinitely fascinating, my lord.”

He looked back up but did not return her smile.

“What else can you tell me about the house?” Victoria asked, puzzled by his attentions. “You seem to have an keen interest in British architecture.”

He stopped for a moment and faced her directly. “I have an interest in many things, Miss Westwood.”

She blushed at what was suggested, rather than what was said.

He continued their leisurely walk. “In the last century, Hugh Percy, First Duke of Northumberland, commissioned Robert Adam to redesign the house. The exterior as you see is in the neoclassical style, but Adam didn’t confine himself to that period. Inside, you will find Romantic, Baroque, even a dash of Gothic. It was the third duke who refaced the house in Bath stone. It’s too bad it’s so foggy. The grounds are magnificent, designed by Capability Brown.”

She watched as he warmed to the subject. As thoroughly knowledgeable of this, and of many things, she suspected.

“It is landscaped in an elegant and minimalist style. This smooth, undulating grass runs straight to the house with clumps, belts, and scatterings of trees and serpentine lakes formed by invisibly dammed small rivers. The Thames is just there. Over that rise.”

Listening to Lord Montgomery, it saddened her the fog kept all but the closest surroundings of the house invisible. It had a huge glass-and-metal conservatory that was said to be the finest in England, if not Europe. If only she could see it.

They walked in companionable silence for the next several hundred feet. She noted he chose to ignore the peculiar look on the butler’s face when they arrived on foot. Once inside the beautiful home, they were greeted by the duke and duchess.

“Lord Montgomery, how good to see you again. And who have you brought with you?”

Victoria was about to object.

She felt a strengthening of his grip on her arm, and she stopped.

“This is Miss Victoria Westwood, Your Grace. She has arrived with Lord and Lady Whitney. I simply had the pleasure of walking her the last several hundred feet, so she could enjoy the approach to your beautiful home.”

“I know it is a particular favorite of yours. Since you were a boy.” The duchess smiled. “Welcome, welcome to you both.”

For a moment, the excitement of touring the house erased any hesitation Victoria had about what might lay ahead.

Later in the privacy of her room, she smiled. The bedroom she had been given was beyond elegant. While she had merely been greeted by her host and hostess, she liked them already. Their son Lord Percy and dear Lady Edith seemed madly in love after nine children, and she could see this kind of love was passed on from generation to generation.

She doubted she would ever know that kind of happiness. A woman would have to give up much to be mistress of this kind of home. She was not willing to give up her freedom, not even for a home as beautiful as Syon House.

But for the first time, doubt entered her heart. She had met a man who made her question herself. A man who intrigued her and mystified her.

She looked out the window pensively. The sun had momentarily broken through the fog. There before her was the most beautiful structure she had ever seen. The Great Conservatory of Syon House was a marvel of both design and execution. Its glass dome reflected the penetrating sun like a fortune teller’s magic ball, and its delicate gunmetal work seemed to dissolve. Two long building wings of cream stone stretched out on either side like beckoning arms.

Formal garden paths of crushed stone cut through the green lawn from a fountain that lay between her room and the conservatory. It was almost too lovely to be real. For such a magical place, maybe, just maybe, she would reconsider her position.

…

“There you are.” Emily rose from her place in the red drawing room. “I was worried.”

“There’s nothing for you to worry about, Emily. I’m quite fine,” Victoria said.

There were several other women in the room talking quietly. Lady Edith sat on a large sofa with her mother-in-law.

Emily took her by the arm and guided her over to her hostess. “Your Grace, may I present my dear friend, Victoria Westwood.”

“We have already met, Lady Whitney. Miss Westwood arrived with Lord Montgomery. It seems they had walked the last of bit of it to the house.”

Emily looked startled. Victoria didn’t wish to explain. She addressed the duchess, “I must thank you for your kind invitation. It was most gracious of you to include me.”

“Nonsense, my dear. Come here and sit by me.” She patted the sofa beside her. “It is a terrible situation you find yourself in. Edith and I were just saying how we admired your strength. Had I known all the facts I surely wouldn’t have invited Lord Stanford. He is a drunk and an idler. But he is family, you see.”

“Yes, I understand. Don’t distress yourself. I am more than capable of attending to my own affairs.”

“No doubt you are, my dear. No doubt you are.” The duchess turned her attention back to her daughter-in-law with a question about one of her grandchildren. It offered Victoria a chance to study the vivid room. It certainly earned its name.

The walls were hung with crimson Spitalfields silk. They made a rich backdrop for the painting of the Stuart Royal family. The exquisite carpet and velvet chair coverings picked up the color, but it was the ceiling that made the room.

“Isn’t it marvelous?” Emily whispered to her.

“It’s incredible.”

“Yes, it was done by Cipriani. There are over two hundred and thirty-nine of the medallions, each one different. Each one is incredibly beautiful.”

“I see you are admiring the beautiful ceiling,” the duchess said to Victoria.

“Yes, I have never seen anything quite like it.”

“No, I imagine you haven’t, coming from America as you do. How do you find England? A bit stuffy, no doubt. A little too set in tradition and rules.”

Victoria smiled. “A bit.”

“There’s no need to mince words with me. I may be old, but I am not ignorant of the strictures that bind women in England.”

“Things are different here. But it isn’t the only country that treats women as second-class citizens,” Victoria added without thinking.

Emily took in a sudden breath.

Victoria realized she may have once more overstepped the bounds of English society. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t intend to make anyone uncomfortable. It is my belief, nonetheless.”

“There is no need to apologize, my dear Miss Westwood. We are, indeed, in a vulnerable position, made more so by our antiquated laws. In Lord Lyndhurst’s death, we lost a passionate advocate. Don’t despair, the Earl of Montgomery was well mentored by Lord Lyndhurst. Your future is not yet set.”

Victoria was more than a little shocked. Lord Lyndhurst was a leader in overturning the laws that bound women to abysmal conditions in terms of property and divorce.

“I don’t understand? Lord Montgomery knew Lord Lyndhurst?”

“Knew him? Lord Lyndhurst took the young Lord Montgomery under his wing and tutored him for many years. Lord Montgomery’s intelligence and empathy made him an apt student. I can think of no better representative of the hope all women have that one day we will be given the rights we so desperately deserve.”

Victoria was confused. The man the duchess described bore no resemblance to the man she had met. It only made her wonder more. She would not admit, even to herself, the hope this information gave her.

Hope that had ramifications far beyond the courtroom.