Her Secret Scandal: A Regency Romance (Secrets in London Book 1) Page 2

  “Yes, well this young lady is also grandniece to her ladyship the great Amelia du Pont,” George said earnestly.

  “Even better! So the accomplishments are bestowed by blood. Very well, Father. I’ll attend this evening. I had planned to visit the club with Charles, but he can spare me. If the dice are in his favor, he won’t even notice I’m not there.” Henry had no intention of flirting with this Miss Madeline Frost though, no matter how great her aunt was.

  Chapter 3

  Alexandra dried her tears. She had lain awake half the night, her mind a whirl. Her mother had passed a few months ago and yet the pain of that, along with the betrayal she felt by the revelation of the secret, still stung her as sharply as it had from the start. Not even when her father—or rather, her stepfather—had passed away, had she felt this much sorrow. But enough now. She was still half-English, after all, and she knew she must carry on appearances. Edmund and Mariah expected her downstairs. Her cousins had been such a comfort to her these past few months.

  Her black silk mourning gown rustled as Alexa made her way to the breakfast parlor. Inside, she found only Edmund.

  “Good morning, cousin,” he said. He, too, was still dressing in mourning black, his cravat arranged simply. After Alexandra finished eating what she could force down, he spoke again. “Would you care to walk about the gardens with me? It’s not healthy for you to stay indoors all day.”

  They strolled side by side through the flower garden. This had been her father’s—her stepfather’s—favorite walk. She, Mariah, and Edmund had walked it many times together over the years since his passing. The two wandered for a while in silence before Edmund cleared his throat. “Now that the funeral is over and the affairs have been settled, there’s no point, I suppose, in keeping up the pretense any longer.”

  Alexandra looked at him in confusion. “Edmund?”

  He sighed. “We know the truth, cousin. Mariah heard your mother speaking to you, then she found the letters. We’ve both read them. An unpardonable lapse of impropriety to eavesdrop, I know, but considering the circumstances, I believe we can be forgiven.”

  Her heart quivered in her chest. “Edmund, I…I have no idea—”

  He interrupted her rambling. “We know you are the natural daughter of some foreigner. You are not Richard Morland’s child. And therefore, you are not heiress to Peverton Park. It pains me to speak thus, cousin, but it must be done. Our family—Mariah and my family—line goes back four hundred years. This estate must remain in the blood.”

  Yet again, her world was crashing down before her eyes. “What are you saying?” Alexandra whispered. “I am family, if not by blood then by bond. We were raised together. You are the only family I have left!”

  Edmund was unmoved. “But the fact remains, you are not blood. Which brings me to the difficult portion of our conversation.” He cleared his throat a few times. “You will give up your claim to the estate and your father’s fortune, so it can go to his true heirs: my sister and me. I would prefer to settle this situation quietly. The scandal would cover my sister and me as well as you, were this to get out. And I have only the utmost respect for my late Uncle Richard. I would hate to sully his reputation. Give up your claim and I will never breathe a word about your true parentage. No one else will know you’re a natural daughter.”

  Alexandra could say nothing. Her cousin’s pale blond hair shone in the sun, making him appear almost bald. She could make out the tiny drops of sweat on his scalp.

  He took her silence for assent. “For the love I bear you, cousin, and for the memories we’ve shared together, I’m willing to make you an offer. Although I have some worry that your mother’s unnatural inclinations may have passed along to you, I comfort myself in the knowledge of your character. You were raised to be a respectable gentleman’s daughter. Therefore, if you will consent to it, I would make you my wife.”

  Alexa was tempted. If she married Edmund, she wouldn’t have to give up anything. She could remain with him at Peverton Park and pretend nothing had changed.

  No, that was a lie. Her property, her fortune, would still be Edmund’s and he could take it away from her whenever he liked, as long as he held this secret over her. Not just that; if they married, she would belong to him as well, for all intents and purposes.

  This was quite the coup for Edmund. In the span of a week, he had gone from penniless son of a clergyman to wealthy heir of a great estate. She felt, at that moment, the heartbreak of her parents’ passings all over again, amplified by the betrayal of a cousin she had loved like a brother.

  Alexandra didn’t have romantic feelings for Edmund and she no longer trusted him, but what was the alternative? Her head spun. This was too much to deal with for one day. For one lifetime.

  Alexandra knew she was making a mistake as soon as she opened her mouth, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. “I will do as you ask and give up my claim, but I cannot marry you,” she told him. “It is impossible that I could ever be happy with you. I would rather live as a penniless pauper than be your wife.”

  His face tightened. “Well, I suspect we will be able to arrange that.”

  Chapter 4

  Even thinking about it now still made Alexandra’s heart pound. Curse the truth! Couldn’t her mother have let her live out the rest of her life in a lie? Alexa would have been perfectly contented not to know the truth of her heritage. She had had the world in her hands….and now? What was to become of her? She had no connections, no fortune, no prospects. Alexa was the natural daughter of a ruined woman and an unknown foreigner.

  Edmund had kept his word though. He hadn’t made mention of her true parentage to anyone of their acquaintance. She couldn’t imagine what lie he had invented to explain her absence. Surely someone suspected some sort of scandal, even if no one had happened upon the truth?

  Although angry at her refusal, he had written to Mrs. Godersham on her behalf, claiming a room for her and paying upfront. Alexa had left her wardrobe behind; what would have been the point? And her new narrow room proved her actions to be right—there would have been no space to store any clothing beyond the sparse numbers she had brought.

  She was friendless. She couldn’t bring herself to correspond with her former acquaintances, or to ask them for help. How could she possibly explain her situation to anyone she had known? No. Better to forget the past, and everyone associated with it, and move on.

  The clock struck in the drawing room downstairs, the sound echoing up through the walls. Alexandra roused herself from these reminiscences. It was time for an unfashionably early supper.

  During the meal, she met the four other boarders. Along with Mrs. Godersham, they made awkward conversation through the simple fare. After supper, the women retired to the drawing room. One of the young ladies made her way to the old pianoforte sitting in the corner and began to painstakingly work her way through the chords for one of Beethoven’s sonatas.

  Mrs. Godersham settled her girth once more on the couch she had sat on that afternoon. “The ladies and I occupy ourselves with the usual pursuits in the evenings,” she told Alexandra. Then, turning to one of the other girls, she said, “Althea, why don’t you read to us from where you left off in Fordyce’s Sermons last evening? You do have such a lovely voice.” Althea, a sickly looking woman with thin brown hair covered by a white cap took the copy from the shelf and opened it to a middle page.

  “You may practice later, Mary,” Mrs. Godersham added to the girl at the pianoforte. “We won’t be able to hear Althea with that abominable noise you make.” The poor girl—Mary—blushed scarlet, but the look on her face said this wasn’t the first time someone had insulted her playing. Alexandra had to admire the dedication it took to continue practicing in the face of the knowledge that you were no good. She herself had had a music tutor from a very young age and was skilled in both the piano and the harp. Her fingers were itching to march over to the poor old instrument and treat it with the proper respect it deserved. But of cour
se, now was not the time. Mrs. Godersham clearly wanted to hear Althea read aloud, and besides, that would only hurt poor Mary’s feelings.

  “When entertainment is made the vehicle of instruction, nothing surely can be more harmless, agreeable, or useful,” Althea began.

  Alexandra usually preferred poetry over moralizing texts. She felt her eyes glazing over already. And this was only the first day of the rest of her life. Her gaze drifted toward the clock on top of the mantelpiece. Far too early to rise for bed.

  “As to the affectation of wit, one can hardly say, whether it be most ridiculous or hurtful. The abuse of it, which we have been just considering, we are sometimes, perhaps too often, inclined to forgive, for the sake of that amusement which in spite of all the improprieties mentioned, it yet affords,” Althea droned on, still reading from the book.

  She read for two hours straight—it felt like an eternity to Alexa listening—until it was time for tea. The serving maid brought in the tea things and Althea served Mrs. Godersham and the others with cake and tea. It was quickly becoming clear that this sickly looking woman must be a favorite of the proprietress. Alexandra supposed it was because Althea appeared to be of the quietly submissive personality Mrs. Godersham seemed to deem appropriate in a young lady.

  When everyone was occupied with tea and cakes, Alexandra found herself addressed in a quiet voice. The speaker was Charlotte Gray, another of the boarders. “So, Miss Morland, now that the performance is over—” a small quirk of the mouth indicated what Charlotte had thought of the reading “—we shall finally have a moment to speak together. At supper, it was so crowded, and I have found that two people cannot form a true acquaintance unless they have a chance to speak in private. Then, each person’s true persona shines out.”

  “Is that so? And what subject would you have the two of us discuss?” The words came out colder than Alexandra intended, but Charlotte didn’t seem to mind.

  The other woman took a small sip of tea, then spoke. “Let’s start with the reading. Tell me what you think of Fordyce’s Sermons?” There was a definite smile on her face now. “I certainly hope you’re a kindred spirit in disliking the work; at least, I would suppose so, judging by the expression on your face while Althea was reading.”

  Alexa smiled. “Was it that obvious? I hope no one else noticed. I would hate to offend Althea so soon after meeting. I have no objection to her style of reading; it was simply a dry work. And I’m sure Mrs. Godersham wouldn’t have been pleased if she saw I wasn’t paying close attention. She seems like that kind of woman.”

  “Yes, she is indeed!” Charlotte agreed with a hearty shake of her head. “You’ve figured her out already. Which is why I find it so delightful that I am able to discuss this with you, someone who also shares my opinions of the work. What kind of reading do you enjoy, Miss Morland?”

  “Poetry of any sort is my weakness,” Alexandra admitted. “Although I find myself avoiding it of late. The words stir up too many emotions.”

  A look of sympathy settled over Charlotte’s features. “Yes, I can imagine, in your situation…Mrs. Godersham didn’t offer details, so I can assure you we haven’t been gossiping, but she did mention your mother recently succumbed to consumption?” Alexandra nodded, trying her hardest not to let her feelings show on her face. “It is difficult,” Charlotte said kindly. “I lost my own mother when I wasn’t much younger than you are now.”

  Alexandra stared into the other woman’s unlined face. Aside from a slightly large nose, she was pretty, in a quiet, understated way. “But, Miss Gray, surely you can’t be much older than I am?”

  Charlotte chuckled, her blue eyes sparkling. “My dear, you are too kind! I am nearly one and thirty. Undeniably an old maid!” She said the last in a mocking, hushed tone. “But I do appreciate you playing to my vanity. If you were trying to endear yourself to me, you’ve succeeded! I believe the two of us shall be friends.”

  Alexandra tried to ignore the lift her heart gave at these words. She had had friends before, in Edmund and Mariah, and they had betrayed her. Friends could not be trusted. So she simply smiled politely and the two women made quiet conversation until it was suitable to bid the company good night.

  * * *

  Lady Amelia du Pont may have been great, but her niece was an absolute bore. Despite what Sir Elliot Northam had claimed, Madeline Frost was neither handsome, interesting, nor especially skilled in music. The rest of the company hadn’t provided much in the way of entertainment either. But happily for Henry, he possessed a lighthearted disposition, able to find humor in nearly any circumstance. Due to this fortunate trait, he rarely found himself bored in any situation. And so it was, he was able to make it through the evening at the Frosts with tolerable equanimity.

  His parents were due to quit town at the end of the week, which allowed Henry to breathe something of a sigh of relief. He and George would stay on in the apartment in Mayfair, a fashionable part of London.

  A servant announced the arrival of Henry’s friend Charles while the former was finishing up his breakfast a few days after the Frost’s get-together. His friend comfortably took a seat and poured himself a cup of chocolate with the ease of one who feels right at home. As usual, Charles Camden’s blond hair was disheveled. He looked as though he’d come straight here from a night spent gambling. He probably had, as a matter of fact.

  “I suppose George is still upstairs?” Charles asked.

  “Asleep,” Henry confirmed.

  “You’re not planning to go at the books again this morning, are you, Northam? After you neglected me last week, I expect you to make amends,” Charles demanded sternly. “Are you up to defeat me at fencing again today? My sparring partner backed out on me. I know I promised myself I wouldn’t play you again until I’d improved enough to beat you, but I’m in desperate straits.”

  “I’d be happy to oblige,” Henry said with a laugh. “Where did all this energy come from that you have so much to burn off?”

  “The usual reason,” Charles said airily. “A woman. Or rather, the lack of a woman. She’s putting up a hell of a fight, to be honest.” Charles always seemed to be flirting with at least three or four different women at once, but he’d never, to Henry’s knowledge, formed serious designs on any of his flings.

  Charles sat up in his chair and said more seriously, “It’s been over a year since that situation with Jane Thomas. You may want to consider finding yourself a new woman to torment you as well, my friend. And this time, just have a little fun; try not to fall in love right away. There are a few particularly delightful ladies I could introduce you to.”

  Jane Thomas was the woman Henry had thought he’d loved, but their entire relationship had been a ruse. She had created a new personality for herself in an attempt to snare herself a rich, powerful husband, and she had nearly succeeded. The only reason their engagement had not come to pass was because Jane had grown frustrated with Henry’s unfashionable career choice and passed him over for another man, one more suitable to her ambitions. It had taken Henry a surprisingly short time to move on from being jilted, which told him he couldn’t have truly loved Jane. Being jilted by her was actually a blessing in disguise. But even so, Henry was in no hurry to move on and find anyone else.

  Charles was the only person who knew of Henry’s near engagement, as well as the reason it hadn’t come to pass.

  “But the difference between you and me,” Henry said as he rose, “is that I have energy enough. I don’t need to pine after a woman to defeat you. I’ll tell Carter to fetch my sword.” He looked down his nose wryly at his friend, who still languished in the chair, a ring of chocolate around his mouth. “If you want to improve, we’ll have a lot of work to do.”

  Chapter 5

  It wasn’t easy exactly, but Alexandra soon fell into a rhythm at the boardinghouse. In the mornings, she dressed herself, then worked at her embroidery or sat down to practice at the pianoforte after breakfast while some of the other boarders paid calls to frien
ds in town. It seemed like everyone besides herself had some sort of acquaintance in London. Alexandra didn’t even have friends left to correspond with.

  Mary had gazed jealously at her the first few days while her fingers danced effortlessly across the piano’s keys, before Alexa had offered to teach her a duet the two could perform together and the young girl (not more than 14—how had she come to be living here all on her own?) had perked up immediately.

  “Your stitches are truly exquisite,” Helen, another boarder, remarked the first week as Alexandra put her new schedule into practice by throwing herself into her whitework. The other girl was standing too close as she gaped down at Alexandra’s handiwork. “Just as lovely as your music.” Alexa merely smiled politely in response. “How did you learn? To play music, I mean,” Helen pressed her.

  Alexandra hid her annoyance at this intrusive line of questioning. “As most young ladies learn, I would assume.” When that answer didn’t seem sufficient, she added, “I had a tutor.”

  “I don’t know any other Morlands,” Helen said thoughtfully. “But you’ve said your family comes from near Crosby?” Alexandra had never said that, as a matter of fact. Helen must have overheard Mrs. Godersham mentioning it. “Have you any beaus you left behind there? Only you must not have, because I’ve never seen you receive or write a single letter. I myself have a great number,” Helen said with a giggle. “If only that vile Mrs. Godersham would allow us to attend a public ball. All my other acquaintances in London go and they say it’s divine! So many handsome men, you could swoon. But Old Mrs. G. hates anyone else to be young and beautiful because she never was herself,” Helen added bitterly. “So we’ll all wind up as old maids like Charlotte.”

  Alexandra did her best to maintain her countenance during this diatribe. She didn’t quite manage it. “If that is to be my future, I find that I can’t object to it. I would much rather be like Charlotte, who may be older but is also clever and kind, than be young and flighty,” Alexandra found herself saying before excusing herself and rising to get ready for her walk. Helen was uncouth and prying and Alexa couldn’t imagine what had prompted the woman to share such a confidence with her.