Page 34 of Scandalous Nights With the Earl

It was as if Lionel himself had come back again to make her life difficult, a further harassment just as things were beginning to fall into place. Mr Elliott MacDonald, a lawyer, had been one of her worst mistakes in those dreadful days after Lionel’s death. Desperate for some comfort, she had turned to him and the close contact was like an elixir. He was kind, thoughtful and clever and a kiss they had shared had led to much more with all of her heightened emotions after Lionel’s death. When he departed a day later she’d never heard from him again, the shame and stupidity of their brief encounter all that she now remembered.

She had been so happy this morning, waking to a blue day with the promise of a visit down to Richmond to see the lovely gardens of the Harcourts. And now…

She could not tell the Earl anything of this history, for there were so many parts of her past that she did not want Phillip Moreland to know.

Perhaps she should simply sign the house over to Simon St Claire to be forever rid of him and his threats? Perhaps she should leave London altogether and start again somewhere else? Somewhere different? Somewhere far, far away? She had money in a London bank account under her own name that would last for many years if she was careful, and yet she could not simply disappear.

She had spent ten years as the wife of Lionel St Claire and a good many of them had been miserable. To just give up and run without some sort of fight was a coward’s way of doing it, and the feeling of excitement she had in Phillip Moreland’s company was so life affirming. But with the delay of a month on the sale of Belton there was also no time to waste.

Standing, she walked to the table to pick up the bell and rang it, her butler appearing almost immediately.

‘Could you call a carriage around in an hour, please, as I need to go out?’

Phillip was reading in his study when his man came in with a visitor card.

‘Mrs Wilhelmina St Claire, sir.’

He stood at this unexpected news and pulled a jacket on, tidying his hair with his hand after he had done so.

‘Show her in, please.’

This afternoon Wilhelmina was dressed in a riding jacket and split skirt, her hair pulled up under a hat and tied at the back of her neck in a loose net.

‘My lord.’ Her greeting was formal. ‘I should have sent a letter but I decided this was easier. Last night at the ball Mr Harcourtextended an invitation to view the gardens at his estate in Richmond. He intimated the flowers were at their best and most fragrant and I have decided I would very much like to see such a sight.’

‘When were you thinking of making this trip?’ He could not quite keep the surprise from his voice.

‘I thought this week might be a good time. I know I should not be here asking if I could come along but the invitation was to both of us and you did look as if you accepted the offer.’

‘I did, for was there not some urgency in it with the flowers at their peak for only a small amount of time?’

Her smile heartened him. ‘Exactly. He said the beds of iris will be wilting in only a matter of a week.’

‘So what day and time would you like to travel to Richmond? I could take my carriage out there.’

‘You would do that?’ She could not believe his words, especially after the horrible start to her day. But then, Phillip Moreland had that habit of making everything easy, fun and safe.

The Harcourt house, Summerley Court, was exactly as Phillip remembered it, a slightly run-down Tudor mansion outside of Richmond, its gardens of wild flowers interspersed with more formal flowerbeds in front of the long and elegant double-storey building.

Wilhelmina and he had spoken of the weather and the countryside on the way across and of other lesser things, but the conversation had been more stilted than usual, which was probably due to the fact of being alone in a small space together for a few hours.

Certainly the teasing he was more used to in her company was missing and he wished it back.

Benjamin and Sarah Harcourt came to meet them the moment their carriage drew into the driveway, giving the impression that they had been waiting for their guests to come.

Phillip watched as Wilhelmina made sure her hat was on firmly after checking to see the tendrils of her hair were not coming loose. When the door opened and they stepped out, Sarah Harcourt enveloped Wilhelmina.

‘Welcome to Summerley. It is such a pleasure to have you both here. When my husband informed me yesterday that you were coming to visit us I could hardly believe it.’

Wilhelmina hugged her back as she laughed at such an effusive greeting. Ben pumped Phillip’s hand up and down, his grip strong.

‘I think Sarah has looked forward to your arrival more than any guests we have ever had.’

‘I used to love coming to your discussions in London, Mrs St Claire. They filled me with ideas and hopes and you were always so very kind.’

‘Please call me Willa,’ she said, and accepted a bunch of colourful fragrant lilacs and roses handed to her wrapped in a sacking cloth.

‘Oh, they are lovely. I hope they will keep so that I might take them home for my front parlour.’