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“You will not believe it,” her letter continued, “but James has written to say he will take time away from his duties as a barrister to visit once you arrive. Martha and Albert, sadly, cannot, as Martha is in the family way again and too close to her confinement for travel. Isaac, as you already know, is vicar at St. Alfred’s nearby, and Thomas and Isobel and their brood live here at Alderwood, of course, along with your other siblings, excepting Simon.”
Simon, three years younger than Lucas, was living in London, his mother’s previous letters had informed him. Lucas felt a pang of guilt over that. He hadn’t been inclined to get in touch with Simon when he’d arrived back in London from Spain. His mother would have presumed he had since he and Simon were close in age; Lucas hadn’t had the heart to tell her he had not yet seen his brother.
And there it was—the entire Jennings family. They would almost all be at Alderwood, the family home, and Lucas must face them with a smile and a hearty greeting.
He refolded the letter and returned it to his pocket.
The second letter was from his sister-in-law, Isobel. In contrast to his mother’s, this letter was brief and to the point. “My dear brother Lucas,” it began.Brother, she’d written, when Lucas had expected it to be so much more than that.
“We are all looking forward to welcoming our hero home,” the letter said. “For that is what you are. Our hero. It has been too long, Lucas. Your parents and your brothers and sisters yearn to see you, as do your nieces and nephews, some of whom you have not even met. I yearn to see you too, my dearest brother and friend. Let us put history firmly behind us. Alderwood is your home. It is time to return to that home, Lucas. With affection, your sister, Isobel.”
He had told himself for seven long years that Isobel was now his sister-in-law and that he needed to think of her as such. He had even managed that visit home three years back when he was on leave and had been able to behave civilly toward her and his brother Thomas when he hadn’t been able to avoid them completely.
This time was different, however, he reflected as he sipped his ale. He was no longer in the army. He had no profession to return to, no home, no solid plans for his future beyond enduring his reunion with his family. To face Isobel again after she’d so easily transferred her affections to his eldest brother—who would become Viscount Thurlby and possess Alderwood one day—would be like a knife blow to his manhood. It had been a knife blow to his heart, a betrayal, seven years before.
Perhaps he’d spend a second night at the White Horse.
He wadded up the letter and tossed it onto the table, then gestured to the serving girl to refill his glass.
* * *
Lavinia batted her eyelashes as she tapped naughty gentlemen on the arm with her fan and sweetly declined expensive gifts—small tokens were one thing, but expensive baubles implied she owed the gentleman more than mere flirtation—and sighed over bouquets of flowers until she thought she would scream.
Lord Cosgrove, of course, then insisted upon escorting her home. On the one hand, his offer discouraged the other men and sent them on their way more speedily. On the other hand, it meant she would be alone with him in his carriage since she’d sent Hannah home earlier so she and Delia and Artie could be on their way.
Lavinia tried to keep distance between herself and the earl on the carriage seat, though it was nearly impossible since there wasn’t much room to begin with and he’d deliberately planted himself in such a way as to take up as much space as possible.
“You look breathtaking tonight, my dear,” the earl said. “A glowing, lustrous ruby of a woman, full of fire within. Your performance onstage tonight was particularly riveting and—dare I say it—passionate.”
“Thank you,” Lavinia purred, praying he wouldn’t notice how tightly she was pressed against the side of his carriage.
“My pleasure, Miss Chadwick. It would be even more to my pleasure if you would allow me to kiss you and not merely compliment you.”
She smiled demurely and extended her hand—with the betrothal ring in full view.
“That is not what I meant,” he said, chuckling. “And you know it, you little vixen. I would have you, Miss Chadwick; I am determined in this. And I have been more patient in pursuing you than any other woman.”
“And yet, I am not yours to have, my lord,” she said, her heart pounding in her chest. She glanced surreptitiously out the window behind his back to see how close they were to her little rented house—the house that would be empty and without her friends there to assist her if the earl got out of hand. “I cannot believe you would ask me to betray my betrothed when he is so valiantly fighting against Bonaparte.”
“AndIcannot believe that a man who would betroth himself to anactresswould be at all surprised to return home and discover his betrothed had added to their income by becoming a rich man’s mistress. He might even be pleased.”
“Such flattering words, my lord,” she said, her voice dripping withhoneyed sarcasm. She would not have him see the fear she felt in that moment for anything. “Perhaps you should stretch your imagination to believe that I am a maiden who wishes to remain so until I am married.” The minute the words were out of her mouth, she knew she’d made a mistake. She’d only meant to imply that she intended to be faithful to her betrothed—make-believe though he may be—as a means of putting Lord Cosgrove off, but the earl, of course, presumed she was now dangling for a marriage proposal.
He already had her trapped in the corner of the carriage, and now he leaned over her, bracing his hands on the walls of the carriage on either side of her, his face next to hers, his lips against her ear. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from shuddering in disgust.
“Forget marriage, my sweet. It’ll never happen,” he whispered, tracing kisses behind her ear and down her throat. Lavinia squeezed her eyes shut, frantically thinking how she could repel his advances without incurring his temper. It was a precarious situation; he was much larger and stronger than she and not known for being particularly reasonable when not getting his way. “Be practical, instead,” he continued. “Think of the pleasure we can find together. I will be generous, you know.”
Lavinia shamefully admitted to herself that she might have been tempted by such an offer a mere three years earlier. Her father had just died, the original members of the traveling theater company to which she and her father had belonged had gotten old, and the younger actors had splintered off and gone searching for greener pastures.
If she hadn’t come up with the idea of Ruby Chadwick and if Ruby hadn’t become such a success, Lavinia might have felt she’d had no choice but to accept such an offer as the one Lord Cosgrove was making.
She did have a choice, however. Lavinia placed her hand on his chest and pushed firmly. “While I am sure you are generous with your paramours, my lord, the answer is still no.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said. “Or, rather, I believe I can change your mind.”
The carriage stopped not a moment too soon. Thankfully, Lord Cosgrove had not as yet descended into the wholly undignified behavior she might have experienced at the hands of a rougher man. She’d dealt with such types during her time with the company and didn’t relish contending with the earl in such a manner tonight.
Oh, but she was exhausted.
