Keeping Faith (Fair Cyprians of London 3)

“Just as we expected he would,” Lady Vernon said, on a sniff. She’d walked to the porthole and stood staring dolefully out at the white-capped waves that surrounded them, turning to say over her shoulder, “A brothel is hardly the environment a gentleman such as he would like to think nurtured his son’s intended.”

“But more than he deserves,” Lord Harkom ground out. “Did your father suffer to see his only child so horribly compromised? I hope he did. Has he been disappointed by what he was dealt? I’m sure he has. After all, what can one expect of the son of an innkeeper’s faithless slut of a daughter and a country yokel.”

“You’ve concocted this story without a shred of evidence.” Crispin held himself proudly. “Meanwhile, the two of you are clearly guilty of a crime that would see you rot in prison. You’ve been soliciting girls and selling them into slavery.” He regarded Faith with a sad smile. “Faith was lured into doing what she never would have done of her own volition.”

“And she has served our purposes well.” Lady Vernon gave a short laugh. “The only fly in the ointment was Mrs Gedge. She wanted to be kept updated regarding Faith’s progress at every juncture. She wanted reports that she actually was getting her lessons; that she was being turned into a lady. Yes, she wanted Faith to be every bit as accomplished and desirable as her own Constancia had been so that she could entice Mr Westaway with her charms.”

“Not that that went very well, initially,” Lord Harkom resumed. “I’ll admit I was mightily taken by the girl’s beauty when I spied her at Madame Chambon’s, but it was only after I learned that there was any connection to Lord Maxwell that she became of such interest to me.”

Faith gasped. “That’s why you tried to take me, unwillingly! After I returned from being painted at the end of the first week. The first painting.” She swung around to confront Lady Vernon. “You decided that I’d failed in my mission to Mrs Gedge, so you might as well make use of me by selling me to Lord Harkom.”

Lady Vernon sniffed. “And then, all of a sudden Mrs Gedge was offering me more money to make a final onslaught for the second painting. Suddenly, she’d elevated the prize money, and my reward, and you, Faith, were becoming too interested, yourself, in the young man you’d initially intended to seduce and leave. Ah yes,” she sighed. “It was becoming very interesting and filled with possibilities. I could collect from Mrs Gedge—spectacularly, I might add, after the newspapers obligingly ran their story—and claim a reward from Lord Harkom who had his own particular vendetta against Mr Westaway.”

“So, Miss Eaves was part of this, too?” Faith couldn’t believe she’d been so gullible, but Lady Vernon dismissed this notion. “The silly little thing lives to tell the truth. Women who deceive and are otherwise immoral deserve to be revealed for who they are so that men can respect the rest of the fairer sex. Yes, she ran that story believing it was in the interests of advancing women’s rights. And that such apparent transparency was needed in the interests of maintaining the integrity of the arts world. Oh, she was delightfully sincere and oh, so obliging.”

Lord Harkom laughed. “An unexpected piece of largesse, that was. As was discovering that Westaway surely had fallen in love. With you, Faith! The woman who’d been recruited to break his heart. And, that not only had you broken his heart, you’d made him a laughing-stock, severely damaged his career prospects, and thoroughly damaged his relationship with his father. Why, you were just perfect. But then you disappeared. You were good, Faith. No one could find you, and I’d almost given up hope when suddenly, here you are.” He turned. “And here Westaway is. Ready for the final reckoning.” His nostrils flared, and he patted his pocket before drawing out a small pistol. “The crew are disinclined to tie you to the masthead, and the captain maintains the fact that this is a regular sailing. But just be aware of what you risk if you try to overcome me, Westaway. Your father killed the woman I loved, and I am more than happy to kill you.”

Crispin shook his head. “You lie. What could my mother possibly have seen in a cruel and twisted madman?”

Lord Harkom ignored him. “Yes, he snatched her away from me and, not being satisfied with that, he broke her heart and then he killed her.”

“My mother died of fever,” Crispin countered.

“The woman you believed was your mother. The woman who agreed to travel to France, pretending to be in the early stages of pregnancy, so that there’d be no questions asked after she returned with the brat that was foisted on an innkeeper’s daughter by Westaway senior. The bastard he thought was his, but who was cuckolded when the child—you—arrived a good month earlier than you should have done. Yes, your real mother, the innkeeper’s daughter, was already a month gone to her country yokel lover when she agreed to be a broodmare to your father. It solved a very great problem for her, no doubt. Yes, she garnished her pocketbook and lived very comfortably, until the money ran out and she wrote to me informing me of the situation, after having been apprised of my vendetta against your father.” He pointed the revolver at Crispin and shook his head. “Look at you, Westaway. Parading about in those clothes. It’s a joke.”

Crispin didn’t seem to heed him. He neared Faith and held out his hand. “Let her come to me for now,” he said, smiling at Faith. “You can torture us later. I’ve been waiting for this a lon

g time.”

To Faith’s surprise, Lord Harkom released her and she ran into Crispin’s arms. She barely registered Lord Harkom’s desultory clap. “What sport the two of you will provide as we proceed to tear young love asunder. Yes. Hold her, kiss her, enjoy her for this short time, while my heart breaks to think of such a lovely thing being so tarnished by what I have in store. Yes, when we reach shore you’ll be parted, never to see one another again.” He looked through the heavy doors and then outside at the raging seas. “For the next two days, you are my captives and will be completely beholden to me. So, you may have a few minutes under my watch to remember the closeness that you once apparently enjoyed. After that, I shall enjoy tearing the two of you apart once more—just as your father did to me and your mother.”

Faith lay on her back upon the covers of the large bed in the stateroom to which she’d been assigned and stared through the porthole at the choppy seas beyond. Her cheeks were damp from tears, but there was no point in wiping them away. More would simply join them.

It had been a long time since she’d wept. Her upbringing had made her strong. Her father punished softness. And that meant tears. Faith had never been close to either parent or, in fact, her siblings. They’d bickered and lashed out at each other, and she’d seen her removal from the family home to work in the big house as a reprieve from such pettiness.

She’d not even cried when she’d been falsely accused of stealing. Injustice was a natural part of her experience.

Her education at the hands of a man of kindness and ethics had given her a new realisation of life and human beings. Perhaps it had set her up for unhappiness by making her realise that even she had prospects for it. Professor Monk had given her enough examples of people from humble beginnings who had changed the world and received their just rewards to give her hope that she, too, might find a meaning for her life.

Now, as the boat was lifted and tossed upon the waves of the English Channel, Faith imagined the worst that Lord Harkom had in store for her. He might even make Crispin watch.

She shuddered, and a sob lodged in her throat.

“Faith.”

Terrified, she half rose, ready to fight with everything she had at her disposal.

It was Lady Vernon, her gimlet eye trained on Faith.

“You’re to get yourself ready to receive Lord Harkom this evening. I’ve brought you a change of clothes and a few other necessaries to clean yourself up. You’re hardly looking your best.”

“He can take me as I am,” Faith muttered, but the prospect of clean water for washing and a change of linen and new gown was too enticing. She felt dirty and unkempt.

“So, Lord Harkom keeps women’s clothing and ivory brushes on hand for such contingencies?” Faith asked Lady Vernon, as she’d worked on her coiffure and changed into the dark-blue confection with its ruffles and ribbons that was presented. It did not require a corset, and nor were there combinations. It was the perfect item for easy divestment, she thought cynically. Lord Harkom wouldn’t need to do much work to have her where he wanted.

Lady Vernon didn’t answer as she appeared to be on the point of leaving. Faith detained her. “I need to go outside for some fresh air. I shall be sick, otherwise, and Lord Harkom won’t want that, I’m sure.”

Fortunately, Lady Vernon didn’t seem too troubled by the suggestion, saying, “I suppose there’s not far you can go.” So, Faith found herself on the forward deck with the wind ruining the smoothness of her newly brushed hair, hurrying towards the railing while Lady Vernon remained just inside the doorway, protected from the cold.