Keeping Faith (Fair Cyprians of London 3)

Faith ran to her wardrobe and put on her one dark, serviceable coat, which might be considered acceptable wear for a walk in the gardens on a moonlit night without occasioning comment.

There was no question about the fact that she needed to be able to speak to him in private. She needed to find out what Lord Delmore intended to tell the Heathcotes. He might condemn her and expose her, but she suspected he’d tell her, first. He seemed a fair man.

The light crunch of gravel beneath her hasty footsteps made her arrival to within his orbit known.

“Rather a surprise to see you here, Miss Montague.” He didn’t turn from his contemplation of a curious nodule on a trunk of willow tree when she came up to him by a small inlet half hidden by bulrushes, out of sight of the house.

Her insides quivered as she waited tensely for his next words. They would reveal something of his intentions, surely. Just running the short distance between the house and the river, Faith had thought only of how important it was for her to keep this job.

If she were dismissed, she’d have to return to Madame Chambon’s.

And if she had to return to Madame Chambon’s, she’d rather die. Yes, death would be preferable than having to give herself to a man, or men, in a transaction that took no account of the heart.

“Your name was on everyone’s lips a year ago, Miss Montague…and then you disappeared.”

Faith shifted position as she stared at his back before he turned to face her. “My old tutor arranged for me to work for the Heathcotes when I had nowhere else to go.” She swallowed. “If you tell them what the newspapers printed about me, I’ll lose my job.”

“And do you like working here? Looking after two little boys? I imagine it’s very different from what you are used to.”

Faith shrugged. “I had nine brothers and sisters growing up. That was not a lie. And then I was strenuously educated for three years. So, what I do now is not so different from my realm of experience. Loving what I do is what’s different.”

“Ah, Miss Montague.” He shook his head, his look sorrowful. “I am placed in a difficult position. My loyalty is towards the Heathcotes. They are old friends of mine. Good people.”

“And I am not?” Faith bristled. “But of course, that’s what the papers printed, isn’t it? And there was a photograph.”

“Of you and Lord Harkom, yes; a man who is no friend to Mr Westaway.” Lord Delmore took out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. He looked a little older, but his eyes were still kind beneath their bushy brows. “I’m sorry, Faith. I want to believe that you’ve been ill done by and indeed, I do see that you have taken the path of redemption. Otherwise, no doubt, you’d still be…”

He hesitated, awkward suddenly, and Faith ground out, “Not with Lord Harkom! I’ve met him only twice, and that was two times more than I would have liked. He is not a good man. I never had any association with him other than accidental. It’s nothing like the newspapers printed.”

Lord Delmore frowned. “Yet you have a letter from him. Did you know that? Yes, it was delivered to my house after one of your…friends…came in search of you and found the residence where you’d spent last summer empty.”

For a moment, Faith had no words. Finally, she whispered, “Lord Harkom wrote to me?” The thundering in her chest was almost painful. “Why, it makes no sense at all. Who brought the letter? Where is it?”

“I can’t remember the young lady’s name. Only that she couldn’t write, so she dictated some words to my maid, Sarah, when she delivered the letter. The young woman was in the district, visiting a family member who, by coincidence, lived nearby, she said.”

“When was this?”

“Only a few weeks ago. And, my dear, I’m not sure if I tucked the letter into my portable writing desk or left it in my bureau at home. But naturally, I shall forward it.” His eyes raked her with a look of the old appreciation with which she’d become familiar. “I simply had never expected our paths to cross again.”

“I don’t want it if it comes from Lord Harkom.” Faith sighed. “And it sounds as if I shall have to start looking for another job if your conscience will smite you for not telling Mr and Mrs Heathcote who I really am.” She clasped her hands together. “And yet, I may still hold out hope for they are decent people. They, at least, would give me a hearing to decide whether I was a good person on balance, rather than condemn me for what five inches of editorial declares is the truth with no refutation from me.”

Lord Delmore stepped forward and touched her arm. “I shall keep my silence for now, Faith. But only if I am assured that nothing you do will harm or embarrass this family.”

The censure in the man’s normally kind face cut Faith to the quick. How easily people judged on the basis of nothing more than hearsay printed in a periodical. What about the presumption of innocence? She was just a woman, she supposed. A woman from a poor background with too many enemies.

“Of course, Lord Delmore.” She inclined her head and turned.

There was no more to be said.

Except that Lord Delmore had indeed tucked the letter he’d received all those weeks ago into his portable writing desk, and when he found it the next morning, he delivered it straight to Faith as she was walking the boys along the gravel path by the river.

“It’s not from Lord Harkom,” she told him in relief after she’d ripped open the envelope before scanning its contents.

But her relief was short-lived, and by the time she’d come to the bottom, she was breathing heavily and wished she could sit down.

“What is it, Faith?”

She shook her head and glanced between the man standing opposite in a copse of trees by the river, then up to the house. “It’s not from Lord Harkom, but it’s about Lord Harkom, and it only confirms his evil reputation. Poor Mr Westaway.”