Part 21 (2/2)
”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.”
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