Keeping Faith (Fair Cyprians of London 3)

Mrs Gedge wanted to ruin him. Wanted to see his heart broken. Well, what could she do after Faith was safely married to him?

If she worried that Mrs Gedge would be vindictive, she tried to put those fears aside. Mrs Gedge had supported Faith for three years. Their monthly tea meetings had suggested a woman who was interested in furthering the prospects of her little protegee. Faith need only persuade Mrs Gedge that vengeance would hurt Faith in this regard more than it would Mr Westaway. Mrs Gedge had been a mother. She was a woman who knew how to love.

She would understand.

Now, as Faith sat at the dinner table opposite Crispin, Lady Vernon at her side, she couldn’t wait for the old woman to withdraw for the evening and so give the young people complete freedom. Faith didn’t care that the servants could not be unaware of what was happening. But this was a borrowed cottage. These were not Crispin’s servants.

“I expect you are anxious for the next few days to be over.” Lady Vernon’s nasal tones cut into the silence as the parlourmaid removed the main course and brought in dessert. “What will you do with your winnings if you are indeed the chosen one, Mr Westaway?”

“I dare not hope to think I will be.”

“No need to be so modest. Everyone agreed that your skills were far superior to your two competitors. If you win, you will be a rich man.” She looked meaningfully between Faith and Crispin. “You will be free to do as you choose, surely?”

Faith blushed at the lack of subtlety, and also the fact that Lady Vernon was fishing for words Faith did not wish Crispin to divulge. The last person she wanted to know that she already had a marriage offer was Lady Vernon.

“My father is always my first consideration, Lady Vernon.”

Faith let out a slow breath. That was the answer she’d hoped for.

And she told him so when they met each other in their attic room.

“We will get married in secret, darling,” she whispered. “Like you suggested. I don’t want my parents knowing beforehand and coming to you for handouts. They will, you know. Far better that we slip away quietly to Germany with no one the wiser. We can tell them when….”

He tapped her on the nose, then kissed her on the lips as he held her against him in the centre of the small room.

“I want my father to be there to bless us and to congratulate us with true joy,” said Crispin.

Faith stepped out of his embrace and looked at him, puzzled. “You’ve changed your mind? Why?”

The need for Crispin to proceed in secrecy struck her anew. She realised, now, that the love letters and the marriage proposal she had in writing must never fall into Mrs Gedge’s hands. Faith must appear to her to have failed. Lady Vernon had no idea to what extent it had progressed. She’d witnessed the occasional longing look, that was all.

She tried not to appear as anxious as she was.

Faith’s bargain was predicated on the exchange of such evidence for a fee of five hundred pounds. Well, she would forgo the money. Of course, she would have to if she were to gain the loving future that was more important now than anything.

Crispin stroked her cheek. “My father’s approval is important to me. I want him to love you as I do.”

Faith sent him a wry look and he smiled back, adding, “Perhaps not quite as I do, but I know he’ll appreciate the qualities I’ve recognised in you. I do believe he would come to see that your intelligence is an attribute that trumps the fact you have no dowry.”

“Or illustrious connections. Your father will not want you allying yourself with a nobody, no matter how quick-witted she might be, or indeed how independent you might become through winning an illustrious art prize. No Crispin, there’s not enough time. Please, my darling. We must marry quickly. And in secret.”

Still, he demurred. “Faith, sweeting, we can have it all—the society wedding that gives you the acceptance you need and deserve. I would far rather that than to have us sneaking away with whispers and innuendo.”

“Oh Crispin, we may have to get married in a hurry.”

Faith put a hand to her belly, though she was pretty certain the precautions she’d been taught precluded any possibility that she might have conceived during their week of passionate couplings. Ten times. And now she was about to initiate another. Her body was on fire, and although she was disquieted by his talk, she was also confident she could persuade him of what was required.

She rested her cheek against his chest and raised her hand upwards to cup his cheek. “Tomorrow your painting will be delivered, and the following night it will be judged. You will win, Crispin, for it is a rare show of true talent. It’s not because I’m biased that I say it.”

And it wasn’t. She truly was proud of his talent. He was a gifted painter, and it was wrong that his father didn’t recognise how far his son could go in this direction if he didn’t force Crispin to follow in his pater’s footsteps.

But C

rispin wasn’t attending to any talk of talent. Understanding, and now full of remorse, he kissed her full on the mouth then regarded her with an intent look. “I’m a fool for not taking more account of the lack of time we may have,” he murmured. “I thought of it at the beginning when I was determined to marry you, and any consequence was a boon. But since your acceptance of my proposal, I’ve thought only of how to make this marriage one in which you are given the respect and public acknowledgement you deserve. An elopement is a shabby, shameful thing, and I’d do anything to prevent you enduring the disgrace of it.”

“And I would do anything to be married to you at the earliest possibility. There’ll be a whole lifetime to prove the naysayers wrong.”

He kissed her brow. “You want to make your family proud, I know you do, despite you warning me they’ll be at the gates looking for handouts. I want my father to be proud. Let me look after this, Faith.” He kissed her nose. “Trust me, Faith. I’ll make sure our future is wonderful; gilded with hope and possibility.”