Keeping Faith (Fair Cyprians of London 3)

Faith liked his initial sentiments but felt a frisson of irritation at the paternalistic tone he adopted when referring to her suitably meek manner. Well, neither of them would ever know what went on in her mind, and what she did treat them to would be uttered with all the calculation of the most supreme diplomat.

But that was not for these men to know. Far better, right now, to simply blush prettily, bow her head, and say quietly, “I’m sure it will, Lord Delmore. Good night, gentlemen.”

Crispin poured Lord Delmore and himself a brandy when the ladies retired. There was something cathartic about a balmy evening with non-demanding company—namely not having his father present. Something that invited an ease of speech to which Crispin was unaccustomed.

Lord Delmore had been absent at his Scottish estate the last time Crispin had inhabited the cottage, and he was glad of the company now.

“I read a snippet in more than one newspaper that your painting was lauded a grand success. You’re sure you won’t mind if I wander over and see you at work in the morning? I shan’t frighten the girl?”

“She’s less of a shrinking violet than she looks. I think she was very tired tonight. Her conversation is usually more diverting.” Crispin found himself defending Miss Montague even when he knew there was no need.

“She doesn’t need to be capable of diverting conversation. She’s an angel merely to feast one’s eyes upon. Where did you find her? And how did you entice her up here when there’s so much going on in London?”

Crispin shifted in his chair as he drained his glass. “Poor thing is penniless and jumped at the opportunity for a bit of publicity, to use the modern American jargon.”

“Husband hunting. Naturally.” Lord Delmore smiled. “She’ll be snapped up before two months, I don’t doubt. That’s if you can resist her.” He looked thoughtful. “Though I’d imagine you’d prefer your company a little livelier.”

“Oh, she’s sharp when she’s well rested. Sadly, she’s not in my scope. It’ll be at least two years before I’m in the market for a wife. If I’m to be swept away by any romantic inclinations earlier than that, the young lady will need to bring a good deal more to the transaction than Miss Montague, I’m sorry to say.” And he truly was sorry. Fortunately, matters had not yet got out of hand.

“Ah, the dictates of the pocketbook. Perhaps your father has someone in mind? An exacting man. Well, my advice would be to follow your own path, not the one laid out by your father if it’s not what you want to do.” He pursed his lips as if contemplating something unpleasant. “It can lead to a lifetime of unhappiness—for both of you.”

Crispin was surprised by his candour.

At Crispin’s look of enquiry, he went on, “Yes, I speak from experience because I was pressured into a path not of my choosing. Oh, it’s not that I had great objections, but perhaps it was my passivity as a young man that caused a lifetime of regret. I agreed to my father’s proposal when, had I been older and wiser and in control of my future path, I’d have steered well clear of it.”

“You were pushed into a profession you disliked?” Crispin felt somewhat doltish saying the words, but the long silence unnerved him. Surely, Lord Delmore wasn’t speaking of more intimate matters.

“My marriage, dear boy. No, I had no profession to speak of. Not a good state of affairs, either.” Lord Delmore smiled ruefully. “I was pushed into a corner so that I had no choice but to make a declaration and then an offer that required me to follow through. It made neither of us happy. Poor Elsie has been gone these fi

fteen years, but it is to my eternal regret that I had not the strength of character to resist my father’s pressure that I make her an offer when I was so inadequately equipped to make her happy. Neither of us brought the other happiness. And what sort of a marriage is that?”

“But you have two sons who have done you credit, and a daughter.” Crispin spoke weakly.

“Indeed. A blessing and the greatest gift. Elsie said the same on her deathbed as she sought for something worthwhile to come out of being bound to someone so patently incompatible for nearly two decades. And two decades could be five in your case. Do not pledge your troth unless your heart is truly engaged. Don’t let your father be the one to dictate what will or won’t make you happy.”

“Pleasing my father is satisfaction enough.” Crispin was unable to meet Lord Delmore’s eye. His father had always dominated him; he knew it. But now Crispin was leaving the country. In Germany, he could be his own man. He’d find fulfilment in his work and rise in the world through his own endeavours.

“Perhaps for now.” Lord Delmore rose. “But your father won’t be around forever and then who will you have to please? A wife whom you don’t understand? Whom you don’t love?” He touched his breast. “Painting is your passion; I know that. I’m glad you have a week to indulge it. I hope it’ll be a reminder of how much else there is to indulge, and that indulgence is not a sin.”

Chapter 14

Faith rose the next morning with a sense of excitement and expectation. It was so unusual to feel something that wasn’t dull resignation, that she leapt out of bed and was smiling as she wrapped herself in her peignoir and threw open the casement window.

The fresh morning air was a welcome and exhilarating slap in the face. Today was the start of a new chapter in her life. Today, Mr Westaway would begin the painting that would be the catalyst for so much. It could make him famous. He would be venerated; his ambition cemented, and Faith could slip away into her new life with the funds to exist in the modest, quiet fashion she desired.

She went to her wardrobe and began to dress, pulling on the modest, swathed skirt that was fashionable but only just, due to the paucity of trimmings.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Lady Vernon stood in the doorway, her gaze critical and her nostrils twitching.

“What does it look like?” Faith hadn’t meant to sound impertinent, but honestly!

“The morning is fresh, and you want to pick some flowers in your nightdress. Put your peignoir back on and go outside. Mr Westaway will be watching from the casement; I assure you.”

Faith rolled her eyes, but Lady Vernon was quick to snap. “You seem not to have the faintest idea as to how to wrap a gentleman around your little finger, girl! Do you want to succeed, or not?”

Sighing, Faith did as she was bid. As she tied the loose, flimsy garment about her, she muttered, “I can’t imagine why you think you are better equipped to know how to entice a man. Have you ever received a letter purporting to a gentleman’s passionately beating heart or, better still, a marriage proposal? That is what Mrs Gedge requires, and it’s what I am always thinking of.”

“I have received both, my girl, so I know very well how it is to be achieved. You have already thrown away your first opportunity, but you have been granted a reprieve. You have seven days. Seven days to achieve that letter or that marriage proposal. Otherwise, you are going back to Madame Chambon’s and to many gentlemen far less tolerant and thoughtful than Lord Harkom if you’re to continue to have a roof over your head. Where is your sense of urgency?”