Keeping Faith (Fair Cyprians of London 3)

His words filled her with foreboding as his lips found hers, and when she shivered at the dangers he knew nothing about, he thought she was angling for a closer connection.

So he whisked her into his arms and lay her on the bed, joining her there where they quickly divested each other of their clothes.

And Faith put all thoughts of what might go wrong out of her mind, because for too long she’d been weighed down by fears of the future, and for just this once, she wanted to believe that the man who returned her love would be able to navigate the terrain.

Of course, with the clear light of a new day, she was again mistress of her own destiny, and the only person who could possibly know the extent of the perils that lie ahead. Faith knew only one course was possible—elopement.

Crispin was nervous as he oversaw the loading of his painting paraphernalia in the trunk that was strapped to the back of the carriage that would take it to the train station. Faith wanted to squeeze his hand in comfort, but Lady Vernon’s brooding presence precluded that. She was not relishing the thought of being confined with the old woman for the journey to London. Crispin would follow an hour later, as suggested by Faith, to preclude the possibility of their feelings for one another becoming apparent to her.

Tonight, they’d see one another amidst the throng of artists and an eager and appreciative public. Faith hoped she’d be well received as the innocent muse, and to secure a modicum of respect and acceptance in advance of a marriage announcement.

So, Crispin accompanied them in the carriage to the town where he maintained he had business with a solicitor there. Lady Vernon boarded first and found an empty carriage while the footman loaded their trunk. As Faith prepared to board, the steam rising about her in such a fog tempted her to take the risk of a quick kiss, though of course such fancies were swept away by common sense. Faith had lost her heart, but she’d not lost the clear-sightedness that ensured her wits were undimmed by emotion when it was necessary.

“In a few hours, you may be declared the winner of a prestigious prize and find yourself in possession of a fortune, Crispin. Will you still want me?”

“All aboard!” The station porter walked down the platform, slamming doors. He’d reach Faith in a moment, and she hung on his answer.

“This is no infatuation, if that’s what you fear,” he told her. His eyes were warm. “I want to shout out to the world that I am so very proud to make you my wife. We will do this properly, Faith.”

“I’m afraid,” she said, admitting the truth. “I want us to be married soon and quietly. If you truly love me, you’ll forget about the fanfare, Crispin.”

The previous night she had tossed and turned fearing for the consequences of doing things the way Crispin would have them done.

“Please, Crispin. I love you; I adore you.” Again, she touched her belly. “What if you are caught up by the consequences of tonight, and our wedding can only take place six weeks hence. Or, what if your father tells you he’ll give us your blessing only if you wait six months. Yes, it may be with all the acceptance and pomp and ceremony you would like, but what about me? Think of the shame I would bear if I were to bear a child less than eight months after our wedding day?”

The guard was nearly upon them. She gripped his hand, her expression pleading.

Finally, he nodded. “All right, we will marry secretly, and we will plan a second ceremony as if we’d never contracted the first. Does that satisfy you?”

“Train’s leaving, Miss. Please board now.”

Faith smiled her relief at him. She’d not thought of such a possibility, but it was eminently pleasing—clearly, to both of them. Faith stepped aboard the train, and Crispin gripped her hand briefly through the door that was about to be slammed shut. “I’ll organise a special licence. We shall marry in secret tomorrow, or if it can’t be managed, the day after. Does that satisfy you? We will marry at the earliest because I love you and I want to prove it.”

Faith exhaled on a sigh of relief. “You’ve proved that a thousand-fold. Thank you, Crispin,” she whispered, reaching forward to touch his shoulder before the conductor slammed the door. “I look forward to seeing you tonight. I think it will be a night to remember.”

“Lover’s parting?” Lady Vernon asked as Faith seated herself.

Faith sent her an ingenuous look. “Mr Westaway and I have become friends, as is to be expected under such unusual circumstances. He cannot marry me, Lady Vernon; I explained that before.”

“We all knew that from the beginning. Your job was to entice him into changing his mind. What progress on that front? Mrs Gedge will want to know. She’s parting with a lot of money to ensure matters progress as she would have them.”

“Mrs Gedge must have a very cold heart if she’s spent three years plotting vengeance against the poor man.” Faith couldn’t help herself. “But I’ve not exactly been steeped in softness thanks to my less than tender upbringing. I want my freedom too. And I shall have it.” She sent Lady Vernon a level look. “You are my minder, not my confessor. Nevertheless, you may rest assured we will all get what we want; you included.”

A beautiful gown beyond Faith’s imagination lay upon her bed when she returned to her lodgings at Lady Vernon’s, for it had been deemed too risky to return to Madame Chambon’s while she was in the public eye.

“Courtesy of Madame Gedge. She says it’s her parting gift…on top of the five hundred pounds she anticipates handing over before too long.”

Faith liked the fact Lady Vernon seemed uncertain about the undercurrents between Faith and Mr Westaway. Well, she’d not enlighten her. The old cow could claim her reward, and Faith hoped never to hear from her again once she and Crispin had left the country.

All they needed to do was slip away to marry in secret, and then they’d be in Germany before anyone thought to look for them. There, Faith had no doubt she could cement her new husband’s affections to make up for the untruths he believed about her.

“It’s beautiful.” And it was. Made of midnight-blue silk with a froth of a train decorated with pink bows and an abundance of velvet flowers, it showed off her hourglass figure to perfection. Once she’d bathed, Lady Vernon’s personal dresser helped Faith step into the skirt that was held close to the front of her body by tapes, pushing the fullness all to the back. Low cut with a décolletage trimmed with tiny pink silk roses it was a fairytale dress.

Little wonder she garnered so much attention when she was admitted to the Royal Society of Artists’ gala.

Her painting was already on display together with the others, but Crispin’s superior talent was apparent. Faith could hear it in the whispers around her. Whispers that included reference to her bountiful assets, also. Tonight was the culmination, almost, of her greatest desires, and her heart felt very full. Crispin would be honoured, as was his due, but she, too, was worthy of honour in her own right. Even if it were only for her beauty, Faith was still proud to claim it. The penniless daughter of a violent, alcoholic farm worker had come far indeed.

But how much further she intended to go. She would extirpate her roots; her past. The time would come when Crispin would ask more about her family, but she would navigate that difficulty as she was navigating tonight. Nothing was insurmountable. If necessary, she could pretend a different family. She’d find the right help. She’d claim her parents wanted nothing to do with her. That she’d been unable to admit such a thing when she first met him, for how could any man marry a girl disowned by her parents?