“I believe she would have preferred that I wear black until I was lying in my coffin. But even that is not enough—she tells me I avoided the marriage bed so now she does not have a grandchild to remind her of her perfect son.”
Sophie said, “Since your husband was at sea so much of the time, it certainly did not require much avoidance on your part, did it?”
Leah shrugged, and Roxanne realized in that instant that none of this was to the point. She also knew the reason now for the smile. She said, “You have met someone, haven’t you? That’s the ‘never mind.’”
Leah smiled widely at both of them. “Why, yes, I have, and he is here in London for the Season.”
“Does he know you are here, Leah?”
“Of course. Well, perhaps not specifically, as I had not yet made up my mind to come, since Father hadn’t spoken to me about his concerns. I shall send him a note. He is a fine gentleman.” She added in a very deliberate voice, “You will not flirt with him, Roxanne. He is too high-minded for such nonsense.”
“Flirt with him? I don’t even know him, Leah.”
“You flirted outrageously with Farleigh, made him vastly uncomfortable; he told me so.”
Roxanne could only stare at her sister. This was a new criticism. Roxanne couldn’t imagine flirting with Farleigh Cosgrove, Lord Merrick, whose face was covered with black whiskers to protect him from the biting winds at sea. She supposed he married Leah to produce a child, which hadn’t happened. Sophie was right, he’d scarcely ever seen his wife to get the job done. But this—“Why are you saying such a thing, Leah? I never flirted with your husband. If you would know the truth, I didn’t even like him very much; he was very aloof, mayhap even grim, and his fingers were stained yellow from all that tobacco he smoked. Besides, as Sophie said, he was never home.”
“You say that now, now that he’s dead. I believe you wanted him, but he chose me.”
“But I was only seventeen when you met and married him, Leah.”
Leah shrugged. “You were a very mature seventeen, nearly eighteen. Even his mother remarked I was not blessed in my sister, and I was forced to defend you even though I knew it was true.”
Roxanne would swear she smelled fire and brimstone in the morning room. She thought of the precious few lovely days she and Sophie had spent here in London. At home, she rarely saw Leah, who, nonetheless, lived only five miles from Allegra Hall. It will be all right. Time will pass. Besides, what can she really do? “How long are you planning to visit us, Leah?”
“What is this? You do not wish to have me visit you?”
No, I don’t.
“As I told you, Father was concerned, and he believed I would be a good influence.”
Father would choke on his soup before he’d say that.
“Am I not welcome in my own house?”
No, you are not welcome. There was no hope for it. Roxanne said, “I hope you will enjoy yourself here, Leah.”
“If you have the proper invitations from the right sort of people, then naturally I shall. I will accompany both you and Sophie. Is there a ball tonight, perhaps?”
Sophie said, “There is the Caulcott musicale. I’m told there are two tenors from Milan, twin brothers, who are excellent.”
“Then I shall attend with you.”
Sophie said, “But you do not have an invitation, Leah.”
Leah simply raised a brow and stared her down. “If your consequence isn’t enough to make me accepted, then I fear I shall have to find my own friends.”
That would be good, Roxanne thought, but kept her mouth shut. Keep quiet, Sophie, keep quiet. She’d hoped when Leah had married Farleigh she’d change, that she’d stop despising her own family, primarily her sisters, primarily her youngest sister, namely, herself, but it hadn’t happened. Now, it appeared she was in love again. Mayhap this time she’d met a gentleman who would stay put once she married him, mayhap a gentleman who would make her see her sister wasn’t out to sink her, mayhap a gentleman who would render her pleasant, give her a dozen children. But so far it didn’t appear he’d made any headway.
She said, “I did not flirt with your husband, Leah. I will not flirt with your new beau, either. What is his name?”
Leah chewed another bite of toast slowly, thoughtfully. “I do not believe I will tell you yet. He mentioned to me that he likes keeping me to himself.” Her voice was coy, like a young girl’s. Goodness, what was going on here? Surely this man wasn’t ashamed to be associated with a Radcliffe?
Sophie gave her a sunny smile. “It really isn’t important, is it? Welcome to London, Leah. I’m sure we’ll have a marvelous time.”
Leah looked at the vibrant young girl at her right elbow, Bethanne’s daughter—a full nine years her junior, fresh, lovely, an innocent, her smile like Bethanne’s, beguiling, sweet. She said, “Bethanne wasn’t as tall as you are.”
“No, she wasn’t, and I’ll tell you, once I reached my full height, Mama didn’t like it at all.”