Page 19 of The Lady of the Lamps (Vows in Vauxhall Gardens #1)

W hen the servant fetched him from his study to tell him there was a lady who wished to speak to him, Spencer had no idea whom to expect.

He certainly did not expect to see Lady Beatrix standing nervously in the hallway, a middle-aged maid behind her.

“Lady Beatrix. What a pleasant surprise…”

She gave a small smile. “I know this is rather unorthodox, but I hoped I might speak to you for a few moments.”

“Of course,” Spencer hurried to say. “Perhaps your maid would like to go to the kitchen for some refreshment? Unless you prefer she remain present…” He mentally kicked himself.

She surely would not wish to be alone with him, not after how close they had become the last two times they had been left un-chaperoned.

But she surprised him. “That would be wonderful, thank you.”

“The parlor is just down here. And please have some tea brought, Henderson, once you have seen to Lady Beatrix’s maid.”

As they walked the short distance down the corridor, Spencer tried to think why she would be there. He had told her that he was her friend, and that he would be there for her should she ever need it. But what did she need from him?

And why did his heart have to race every time he merely clapped eyes on her?

He rushed to remove a book he had left carelessly open on the coffee table. “Please, take a seat.” He ensured that the door remained open, and knew that one of his staff would be in soon with the tea, but nonetheless he felt a thrill being alone with her, even though he knew it was wrong.

“I know I should not have come here,” Lady Beatrix began. “But you were so kind to call on me the other day and empathize with me…that I felt I needed to speak with you before I made a big decision.”

Spencer’s eyes widened. What big decision did she have to make, and why on earth did his opinion matter?

“You are most welcome here, even if it is a little unusual,” he said with a smile.

“Thank you. I must confess I do not feel all that welcome in my own home currently.”

Spencer frowned. He knew that feeling—although his own discomfort was from ghosts of memories, not from living people moving in when he was at his lowest. He could not imagine how difficult it must be for her.

“I have no brothers, no husband, no sons, no one to rely upon. My nearest male relative is the man who is now Lord Haxbury—a man I only met this week. And so, as I’m sure you know, I am left with very little to call my own.”

“It is a terrible and unfair situation,” Spencer said, trying to work out what on earth he could do to help her. “And if there’s anything I can do… If you need money, perhaps, or…”

Lady Beatrix smiled. “We may not know each other well, but I think you know that I would not take money from you. No, I will earn my keep if I have to, as a paid companion, or a governess. I have been looking into options on both fronts.”

Sadness overwhelmed Spencer. It was silly, really, for he kept deciding he would never see her again. And yet if she left to live in the country as a companion or a governess, then he truly never would.

It also seemed very unfair that she should have to leave everything behind when she was already battling such grief. He reached forward without even thinking, and took her hand in his.

“I hope you know I would happily give you the money, if you needed it. Or if you need help finding a position, or with organizing the travel there… Lady Beatrix, I cannot say everything I wish to say, because I am not the man I once was. I cannot offer the things that I would like. But I hope you know that I want you to be happy, above all else.”

He had said too much. He had admitted the depth of his feelings, and that there was no way he could act on them. He didn’t know if it was fair to tell her that, but the words came spilling out with no way of stopping them.

She held onto his hands tightly, not interrupting his speech, and when he met her beautiful blue eyes, they were teary and full of something that looked like hope.

He leaned closer still, drawn to her beautiful full lips like a flower to the sun, and even though he knew it contradicted everything he had just said, and even though he knew it was wrong, he pressed his lips to hers and felt an explosion detonate inside his chest.

Never before had a kiss made Spencer’s blood burn through his veins. Never before had he ignored all the rules of propriety and kissed an unwed lady—a lady in mourning, no less—in the middle of the day.

What would have happened if the parlor door had not crashed open, Spencer could not say.

He didn’t think he would have deflowered this innocent woman, but desire for her burned more strongly within him than anything else.

But the door did crash open, and they flew apart, his heart racing and his mind whirling.

As he tried to get a read on his own emotions, he realized that his fear was not of the crashing of the door, or the reminder of the guns, but for Lady Beatrix, and not wanting her to be caught in such a position.

“So sorry, my lord. There’s a draft, and the door just got away from me. There’s a storm brewing outside…”

There was a storm brewing inside Spencer, but one he could not give voice to.

“Not a problem,” Spencer said, avoiding eye contact with Lady Beatrix as the footman arranged the tea things in front of them. Had he seen anything? Spencer was fairly sure his staff were discreet, but it wasn’t a risk he really wanted to take. It was too late to do anything about it now, though.

When the footman left, the door still wide open, Spencer dared to look at Lady Beatrix.

She was as beautiful as ever, even clad in black which made her pale skin look even more ghostly.

Her lips were swollen, her cheeks red, and he had never been more tempted to do something dishonorable than he was in that moment.

“I’m sorry.” He tried to get hold of himself. There were many reasons he could not pursue Lady Beatrix—and he just had to remind himself of them. It wouldn’t be fair to her, this beautiful woman, to be tied to a man who was afraid of his own shadow.

And then there was the fact that he did not think he could ever share a bedchamber with a woman while he was plagued so with nightmares. He struggled to know what was real and what was not in those dark hours, and the thought of someone else there beside him…

Well, normally it filled him with fear. But with Lady Beatrix before him, looking rather ravished, it was hard to focus on that.

“I… I quite understand,” Lady Beatrix said with a blush, and he dared to hope—even though it would be a pointless hope—that she felt a similar desire for him as he did for her.

“If there’s anything I can do to help though, as your friend… Please know that I will.”

*

The hope died in Beatrix’s heart at those words.

He was a good man in many ways, and it was sweet that he wanted to help her—but he clearly did not want anything more.

Oh, she did not doubt that he desired her, and there was something thrilling about that.

But if he had even considered marrying her, he surely would not be reminding her that he was her friend, not after kissing her like that.

She was grateful at least that she had experienced such a thrilling kiss before she was married. She had kissed Ambrose, but it had never ignited within her the feelings that Lord Leighton was capable of. The man set her body on fire with a single touch, and she did not even know his first name.

And now she doubted she ever would.

“Thank you for your friendship, my lord. The new Earl of Haxbury has asked for my hand in marriage, and I believe I shall accept. I thought, as we are friends, that you ought to know.”

This was it. If he did not make an objection, then there was no hope left at all.

His eyes widened, and he picked up an empty cup, before realizing there was nothing in it and putting it back on the saucer. “I see. Well… I wish you every happiness.”

So that was that. She would put aside her childish dreams, marry the new heir, and look forward to her life as a wife, mistress of the household, and hopefully one day, mother.

She fought back the tears that came to her eyes. She had done enough crying of late. And how could she feel like she was losing something, when she’d never had it to begin with?

“I won’t take up any more of your time,” she said before he had a chance to pour the tea. She could not bear to sit with him and make polite conversation when her heart was breaking. “Thank you, for your hospitality.”

*

He rang the bell, and Henderson returned, before scurrying back downstairs to fetch Lady Beatrix’s maid. He couldn’t think straight. So many things had happened that he could never have imagined. And now she almost seemed angry, or cold at least, but he did not know what to say.

She was surely offended that he had kissed her. That would make sense. And she was right to be—he should not have done it. And yet…he could not bring himself to regret it.

If she was to wed another man, at least he knew what it felt like to kiss her. He doubted he would ever kiss another woman again who stirred such passion within him.

“Good day, Lord Leighton,” she said with a bobbed curtsy as soon as her maid was present.

“Goodbye, Lady Beatrix.”

For it had to be goodbye, he told himself as he returned to the parlor and poured himself a cup of very well-stewed tea. She had come here to tell him… Well, he presumed she had come here to tell him she was to be married. And he had kissed her. What a cad he was.

As he sipped his tea and wished it was late enough for something stronger, he tried to force away the thought that had been in his mind ever since she had left.

She’s marrying him ?

He knew it wasn’t any of his business. She could marry whomever she chose—and he could certainly see the benefits of the match. She would not have to leave behind everything she had ever known.

And yet… Spencer had not liked the man when he’d met him.

The way he’d come in so heavy-handed and announced he would be taking her father’s room, without a moment’s concern for her grief.

And he was surely at least fifteen years her senior.

A woman like that deserved someone who worshiped the ground she walked on.

He might have been that man, once upon a time. But he could not offer her what she needed, and so it was best that she married the new Lord Haxbury. She surely liked him, if she was going to marry him, so what did it matter if Spencer didn’t care for him?

He would quite probably not see either of them again—and certainly not until the following Season, if he was even in London then.

She needed to find her path in the world, and he needed to find his.