Page 17 of The Lady of the Lamps (Vows in Vauxhall Gardens #1)

H e nearly turned around and walked home several times, before telling himself to stop being so ridiculous. He had thought he would never see Lady Beatrix again—even if he had hoped otherwise, unwisely—and now he was stood on her doorstep, feeling nervous about knocking.

He forced himself to do so and when the butler opened the door, a black armband around his upper right arm, he asked, “Is Lady Beatrix at home to visitors?”

“I will check, my lord. And you are—”

“Lord Leighton. I am aware the house is in mourning, I merely wish to offer my condolences.”

The butler bowed his head. “Very good, my lord. If you will please wait here a moment.”

After wondering whether he ought to have come, Spencer wondered if she would see him. Perhaps she would refuse because of their awkward parting the last time they met… Did she know how close he had come to kissing her, alone in that card room?

If she did, she would surely send him away, appalled at his behavior.

Or perhaps she would refuse to see him because she was in mourning. He certainly would not have been capable of sitting and making polite conversation after the loss of his brother, or his father—not that he’d been in England for either death.

Just as he was giving up hope, the butler reappeared. “Please follow me, Lord Leighton.”

He was led into a beautiful parlor, decorated in shades of blue. Lady Beatrix sat in an armchair by the window, although she stood when he entered. Even though she smiled in greeting, he could see the sadness behind her eyes.

It was a sadness that had lived behind his own for years now.

She curtseyed and then gestured for him to take a seat. “Lord Leighton. How kind of you to visit.”

“I wanted to convey my condolences, Lady Beatrix,” he said, gripping his top hat in his hands and trying not to lose himself in her devastated blue eyes. “I was shocked to hear about the passing of your father, so soon after I saw you both in Bath…”

Her breath hitched and she looked away, and he was sure she was trying to hide tears. He hadn’t come here to upset her, but clearly reminding her of Bath was the wrong thing to do.

“I know what it feels like, to lose someone you look up to…someone you… I wish you did not have to suffer that pain.” He wanted to reach out and take her hands, to offer her some comfort as she had done when he had fled the ballroom at the Assembly Rooms, but of course he could not.

One of her staff could come in at any time, and what on earth would they think of such a display?

“Thank you,” she whispered, and she turned back to give him a watery smile. “A lot of people have told me they are sorry, but it did not feel like any of them truly understood my pain.”

“Perhaps they have not known such a close relationship,” Spencer offered.

“I was told several times that the price for such love is the pain of grief… I’m not sure it helped at the time, but now I can see that I was lucky to have such a close family, even if the pain of losing them nearly destroyed me. ”

He had not planned to open up to Lady Beatrix about his deepest emotions, but there was something about her that just made him want to be honest. She had seen the worst of him already; he doubted anything he could say now would worsen her opinion of him.

The tears she had been trying to hide finally filled her eyes, but she simply blinked them away and held his gaze. “I think you are right. I just hope I can feel that way, soon. I knew he was ill… Perhaps it should not have been such a shock. But it was. And I feel—”

She broke off, but he urged her to continue. “You feel?”

“I haven’t told anyone this. But I cannot help but wonder if it was my fault. If persuading him to go to Bath hastened his end. I feel so guilty…”

“That will eat you up if you let it,” Spencer said softly.

“I do not believe your father would have gone if he had not thought it was for the best.” Unless he thought there was no hope either way, Spencer thought to himself, but he did not voice that out loud.

She did not need to add to her woes. “My brother died in front of me, on the battlefield. I have felt guilty every day since, for not saving him, for not being the one killed. But there is nothing you could have done to save your father—it was simply his time. And he got to spend his final days with the daughter he loved, in a beautiful city. You mustn’t feel guilty, Lady Beatrix. ”

As his impassioned speech came to an end, he noticed her eyes were wide and wondered if he had said too much. It was that unique “something” about her, and the grief filling the room, that had loosened his tongue so.

She reached forward, and took his hand in hers, and his heart raced.

“It wasn’t your fault, either,” she said, her blue eyes looking at him so intently, he felt she could see straight into his soul. “Your brother chose his path, as we all do. It’s a tragedy, but you cannot blame yourself. You didn’t shoot him.”

Her words shot straight to his heart, both painful and soothing, like ice-cold water, and he felt breathless. He did not know how long they sat like that, hearts aching and hands clasped, before the parlor door flew open, and they shot apart.

“Henderson said we had company,” the tall gentleman, whom Spencer had never seen before, announced.

He got to his feet and bowed. “Lord Leighton, at your service. I came to offer my condolences to Lady Beatrix.”

The gentleman narrowed his eyes and did not look best pleased to see him.

“Lord Leighton,” Lady Beatrix said, glancing between the two. “May I introduce Lord Haxbury. My father’s heir.”

They shook hands, and Spencer tried to read from her body language how Lady Beatrix felt about this man.

Oddly, he could read his body language quite clearly, and it wasn’t welcoming and was, in fact, a bit territorial.

Of his new title and holdings or Lady Beatrix herself—of that, he couldn’t be sure.

Of course, Spencer knew she could not inherit her father’s title, but he hadn’t supposed the new heir would be found and brought to London quite so quickly.

*

Beatrix knew she shouldn’t have been holding Lord Leighton’s hand. And yet, for the second time in a handful of weeks, there she was, doing so. Once again, she’d felt the need to comfort him, even though he had been comforting her.

And his words of comfort rang true. She didn’t feel anyone else understood. Some clearly saw her grief as a display of far too much emotion. Others seemed surprised that she was so devastated when they clearly thought she ought to have known that Papa’s end was near.

No one had spoken to her, soul to soul, like Lord Leighton had. He understood—because he felt so many of the same things.

And she could not help but take his hands and tell him that it was not his fault.

Because, of course, it wasn’t. His brother had gone to war—a terrible, dangerous path to follow—and the worst had happened.

Lord Leighton couldn’t have stopped it, and what good would it have been if he had been the one killed instead?

Then his brother would have felt the same guilt, surely.

But just as she’d been ready to tell him so, Lord Haxbury had come in.

She didn’t think he’d seen them holding hands, for that would surely create a terrible scandal—and he would be unlikely to still wish to wed her.

Not that she had given him an answer yet.

But she did not want the option taken away from her, no matter how distasteful she found it.

She had very few options open to her at all.

There was a tension between the two lords that she could not dispel. She did not think she would have been able to, even if she had been feeling entirely herself.

“I shan’t disturb you. I merely wanted to inform you that the maids are moving my things into the master chamber, so if there are any personal effects of your father’s you wish to remove, please do so.”

The words stabbed her heart like a dagger. He had every right to the room, of course—but she had hoped he would wait until she left to take it. Unless she didn’t leave… But the idea of sharing that room with him was too difficult to contemplate.

“Good day, Lord Leighton. A pleasure to meet you.” And with that, he swept from the room, leaving Beatrix and Lord Leighton alone once more, although in a rather different atmosphere.

They took their seats again, and Beatrix didn’t really know what to say.

She was rather embarrassed at Lord Haxbury’s rudeness, but she wasn’t going to apologize for him.

He was her family, but so distantly that she had barely known he existed before his arrival.

If she married him… Well, then she would have to apologize. But she had not made that decision yet.

“So, your father’s heir has arrived…”

Beatrix nodded. “Yes. He was on his way to London when he heard of his inheritance, and wished to make a start on the accounts.”

Lord Leighton glanced towards the open door, as if to check that Lord Haxbury was not listening outside it, and then turned back to her with a frown.

“This cannot be easy for you…”

Beatrix gave a wry smile. “It is not. But there is nothing to be done. Things change when people die, and I’m in no position to argue it. Life doesn’t always go the way you planned—and now I need to find the right path forward.”

“Life certainly moves in strange ways. If it did not, I would not be a marquess, and I would not jump at every loud noise.” His cheeks flushed, as though he had not meant to say that out loud, but she was glad he had—even if it could lead nowhere, she was glad to know more about this man who had dominated her dreams for years.

Even if the knowledge was incredibly sad.

The clock struck noon, and Lord Leighton stood. “I should leave you in peace. But if there’s ever anything you need, please know that I am a friend.”

When he had left she called for fresh tea, and sat at the window, watching people passing by.

The Season was coming to a close, and soon London would be much quieter.

Normally she and Papa would have been thinking about returning to the country soon, but now everything was different.

She had not found any promising positions in the magazines she had procured, and Lord Haxbury’s proposal had a time limit on it.

She watched Lord Leighton walk away and tried to clear her mind of the fog of grief and see a path forwards. Lord Leighton had said he was her friend…and she was glad that he had come, even if their relationship was confusing and did not strictly follow society’s rules.

He was her friend, and he clearly did not wish to be anything more. Her dreams of a life with him, which she had harbored since she was seventeen years old, needed to be put to one side.

He understood her so. And when they touched, she felt sparks shooting through her body. But she did not have time to wait for something to potentially grow, when he had said himself that he was broken.

She did not even think he wanted a wife.

And so her only options were to strike out on her own, or to wed the new Lord Haxbury.

And neither was very appealing.