Chapter Eleven
William had a smile on his face and Lady Lanora in his thoughts as he strode up to Cecilia’s door the following evening. A knock brought the maid. He hardly noticed her, hurrying upstairs to find his stepmother. He was in a rush, wanting to look into the foreman more before the theater. When he saw Lady Lanora there, he wished to have an answer for her. That she wouldn’t expect one yet only gave the idea more appeal.
The street urchins would have located Finch’s lodgings by now. Speaking to the foreman had gotten William nowhere. This time, he meant to search the man’s rooms. He strode down the hall, walls blessedly unadorned, then came to a stop outside Cecilia’s door and knocked.
“Come in.”
She sat near the window, as usual, sewing. It took only a glance to see she was making over a gown. Sorrow touched him, as it always did when he was reminded how much she gave up, what life she missed, to stay safe. There was no choice. The marquess had already killed two wives.
She looked up with a smile, indominable as always. “You’re early again. Does that mean you have letters for me?”
William pulled two envelopes from his coat with a bow, pleased to offer such happiness. “Your sister wrote, and your mother.”
Setting aside her sewing, she jumped up, claiming the letters. “I should write him an extra letter. Perhaps with his ill health, he’ll fall into a fit and die.”
William knew she meant the marquess. Sending and receiving letters was a tricky business, for the marquess devoted considerable resources to locating his wife. Fortunately, William was up to the task of outsmarting the old man, though they’d agreed Cecelia would write only four times a year. Two of those times, she addressed messages to the marquess, to ensure he didn’t declare her dead and remarry. Not to keep a hold on her title, but to spare another young woman. The letters enraged the old man.
“There’d be little harm in trying,” he said.
“Will you sit?” Her smile was warm, but her hands clutched the letters.
“I will leave you to catch up on your family. I have it on good authority, the Mediterranean was exceptionally warm this past summer, if you care to mention it in your replies.”
To preserve his reputation, the marquess told the world his wife suffered ill health that only the warmer southern climates could mitigate. William and Cecelia saw no reason to countermand the claim. William was certain, though, that most of Society at least suspected some other explanation for the continued absence of the marchioness. As he’d pointed out to Lethbridge, the old man’s poor luck with wives was too suspicious to ignore.
Cecilia smiled. “Thank you. You’re the most gracious stepson a woman ever had. Will I see you at breakfast?”
He shook his head. “I shall attend the theater. I hope to make the second act.”
She nodded, making every attempt to hide her disappointment.
He knew her too well not to see it. “Tomorrow I shall visit longer, and tell you all about the theater. As much of it as I see, that is.”
“It’s kind of you, but I know you mustn’t come too often or stay long. Who knows what your father will do if he worries you’ve fallen in love with your mistress or are disobeying his wish that you wed.”
“I’ve taken enough steps toward courting one of the women on his list that I feel we’re safe.”
Her mouth rounded, her eyes lighting up. “Who? Do tell me.”
“I’m sure it will be in the papers by tomorrow, as I took the lady for a ride in the park today and walked with her in the hedges.”
“Did you now? How deplorable of you.”
William grinned. “I’m a deplorable sort of fellow.”
“Indeed. Especially if you make your own stepmother wait to read in the paper, who it is you’re courting.”
William knew her exasperation was feigned, but relented. “Lady Lanora Hadler.”
“Lady…” Cecelia’s eyes became as round as her mouth. “The archaeologist’s daughter? She might know your friend Mr. Darington. How lovely.”
William supposed it would seem so, to those who didn’t know he’d never set foot in Egypt, never met Darington in person. He grinned, realizing that was how most of thetonwould see it, making his courting Lady Lanora all the more believable.
Cecelia wrinkled her nose. “I don’t mean offense, but I’ve read she’s a diamond of the first water. A duke’s only child who stands to inherit much in the way of lands and fortune. They say she’s impeccable, even though she has black hair. How did you persuade her to ride with you in the park, let alone walk in the hedges?”
William’s grin widened. “I, step-mama, am exceedingly charming.”
Cecelia shook her head, expression amused. “I suppose you very well must be. Did you kiss her?”
