Page 104 of Regency Whispers: Scandalous Matches

Lord Westcroft smiled politely and then turned to Alice. ‘I hate to take you away from your gathering, but there are one or two things we need to discuss quickly. Shall we step outside?’

Lady Kennington chuckled under her breath and leaned into Mrs Taylor. ‘I remember that first blush of love. Only back a day and already he’s finding excuses to pull his wife aside.’

Alice didn’t respond but stood, smoothing her skirt, and followed Lord Westcroft from the room.

The London house was a good size for a townhouse, but it wasn’t large compared to Lord Westcroft’s other residences. Downstairs there was the drawing room, the dining room, another small, cosier reception room and Lord Westcroft’s study. The study was the only room in the house she had never made herself at home in. It had felt too personal somehow, even though until yesterday she had been under the impression Lord Westcroft was never going to return.

He led her into the study now, closing the door quietly behind him.

‘There are a lot of women in our drawing room,’ he said.

‘I think I mentioned the meeting of the London Ladies’ Benevolent Society.’

‘I expected something...different.’ He leaned against the edge of the desk, his posture relaxed, and the expression on his face one of curiosity rather than annoyance. She had been well aware that he would be surprised by the invasion of his home by twenty-four benevolently minded women and hadn’t known how he would take it. She was pleasantly surprised to find he wasn’t angry or ordering everyone out, merely curious. ‘You came to London less than a year ago for the first time ever?’

‘Yes.’

‘You knew no one?’

She shook her head.

‘Yet here you are, with some of the wealthiest women in England taking tea in our drawing room.’

‘You left, my Lord,’ Alice said, holding up a hand to stall the interruption she knew was coming. ‘I am not placing any blame. You told me exactly what would happen once we were married, but I do not think I had truly understood. I was alone, completely alone. Independent, wealthy, no longer obliged to do what my parents wanted of me. Yet I was lost.’

He shifted, and for a moment Alice thought he might reach out and take her hand. She chided herself at the surge of anticipation she felt at the idea, especially when he merely crossed one leg over the other and rested his hand back on the edge of the desk.

‘I could either sit in one of your houses in Northumberland, waiting for you to die so my life could start again, or I could choose to build something for myself now. The first option was just too depressing so I chose the second.’

There was silence for a moment, and she glanced up at his face, relieved to see he was smiling, albeit sadly. ‘I left you with quite the dilemma. Please do not misconstrue my intentions in speaking with you now. I am impressed, not annoyed. I think it is a miracle you have managed to get society to accept you so readily, let alone chair a benevolent charity.’

‘You do not mind the twenty-four women sitting in your drawing room?’

He grimaced and then shrugged. ‘It is not what I would have chosen for my first day back in London, but I acknowledge I did not give you any notice of my return so it would be unreasonable for you to keep the house quiet and not have social plans.’ Lord Westcroft paused, looking at her intently before continuing. ‘I am keen to discuss our situation and how we will manage things going forward, though.’

Alice felt a bubble of nerves deep inside. She wondered if he would expect her to remove herself to the countryside. So far since returning, he had been polite but distant. She was fast realising that she was still an afterthought in his life. Whatever his reasons for coming back to England, she was not one of them. Alice tried not to be hurt by the realisation she was once again close to the bottom of his list of priorities. She prided herself on being a rational woman and knew Lord Westcroft had given her so much when he married her to protect her reputation, so it felt ungrateful to want him to think more of her, yet it hurt when she felt like a problem to be solved.

She turned away, needing a moment to compose herself. When she turned back it was with steely determination. This might be Lord Westcroft’s house, but she had worked hard this last year to find her footing in London, and she wasn’t going to scurry back to Northumberland just because it made his life a little more convenient and allowed him to forget he had a wife. If he found it too uncomfortable to be here with her, then he could leave, but she was not going to quietly give up everything she had built for herself these last few months.

‘I shall look at my calendar, my Lord,’ she said, ensuring her tone was polite and courteous. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I must return to my guests.’

She didn’t wait for his response, turning and leaving the study quickly and closing the door behind her. As she walked back through the hall she realised her hands were shaking, and she paused for a moment before reentering the drawing room, fixing her face into a warm and happy expression that she didn’t quite feel.

‘Good Lord, Westcroft, you leave the country to die and come back looking healthier than the rest of us put together,’ William Wetherby said as he clapped Simon on the back. Wetherby was an old friend, their friendship forged in the difficult days when they had both been sent away to school. Wetherby had been a scrawny lad from a once-wealthy family that had fallen on hard times. He’d had his place at Eton paid for by a generous aunt but had been mercilessly teased about his old clothes and lack of funds to spend in the local town.

Now Wetherby had grown into a giant of a man, broad across the chest with a thick dark beard and a muscular build. He was no longer poor either, having spent the last decade building up a thriving importing business.

Simon smiled, a little surprised at how pleased he felt to see his old friend. When he had left England he had thought it would be the last time he saw anyone he knew. At the time, he had told himself he’d made his peace with that, but now he realised that wasn’t the case.

‘It is good to see you, Wetherby,’ Simon said, accepting the embrace his old friend pulled him into. Wetherby had always been effusive, and the years hadn’t changed him in that respect.

There were a few other men gathered nearby who greeted him and shook his hand. London society was made up of a relatively small number of people, and even the men he did not know well he was acquainted with. After a minute Wetherby guided Simon to a corner table and motioned for a couple of drinks to be brought over.

In his youth Simon had not enjoyed the atmosphere in the exclusive gentlemen’s club that his father and brother had attended and his membership was expected, but as he had grown older he had come to appreciate the quiet, luxurious atmosphere the club afforded. It was a place to escape many of the demands made on his time, and when he needed it to, it allowed him to spend an hour or so alone with his thoughts.

‘I find myself fearful to enquire after your health,’ Wetherby said as they sat facing each other.

Not many people knew of the terrible headaches Simon had suffered before he left England, nor the fear he had harboured that the headaches were a sign he would soon die, but he had taken Wetherby into his confidence when he sought his help with obtaining the special licence for his marriage almost a year earlier. Wetherby had worked tirelessly, calling in favours from various friends and acquaintances, to make sure Simon could marry before he left England.