Page 21 of The Lady of the Lamps (Vows in Vauxhall Gardens #1)

H e did not truly know what changed his mind. He did not think it was loneliness, for it was easier to hide his despair and pitiful actions when he was alone. And yet when he was alone, there was too much time to think…

To think on the war. To think on his losses. To think on Lady Beatrix, and the man she would marry.

The man who was not, and could not, be him.

As much as he might wish it.

He rode hard and fast to try to wipe out the images in his mind of Lady Beatrix…images of her as his wife.

And even more troubling ones of her as Haxbury’s wife.

He had chosen to ride, rather than take a carriage, to Montgomery’s house party. It was rather foolish, since it was two days’ ride and the weather in England was hardly predictable, but sitting in a carriage gave too much time for thinking.

And besides, Spencer was in great shape.

A by-product of those years on French battlefields was a strong, muscled physique, and so much nervous energy that he did not think he would ever be in danger of running to fat.

A two-day ride was no hardship for him at all.

And even when the heavens opened, leaving him soaked through by the time he arrived at the inn he had chosen for the night, he could not bring himself to be sorry he had traveled on horseback.

There were many things in his life he was sorry for. And he thought he might well regret attending this house party, where he would not so easily be able to hide from the world.

But at least he would not do anything foolish, like visiting Lady Beatrix, or kissing her, or begging her to marry him.

All three actions would surely be ruinous—for them both.

Montgomery would surely think him very eccentric, turning up to a house party two days late, on horseback, having declined the invitation and without a valet.

But he was sure his old university colleague would still open his doors to him, and undoubtedly provide him with a valet to ensure he was presentable for the party.

And although he had no desire to make conversation or gamble or flirt with pretty ladies, his friends were right—there was always good fishing to be had at Monty’s.

And that would surely take his mind off his troubles.

It was nearly noon when he arrived at the grand country home of the Viscount of Dalkeith. He was hungry, dusty, and tired as he jumped from his horse. He grabbed his smarter clothes from the saddlebag and thanked the stable boy who appeared swiftly to lead his mount away.

“She’s been worked hard, so make sure she’s well-fed,” he said. The boy nodded and grinned at the silver coin Spencer tossed his way.

“Yes milord. Of course.”

Spencer caught sight of himself in a lower window and almost laughed.

He might be turned away, for fear he was a vagrant.

The dust of the road covered him, and his black hair looked dull and in need of a comb.

But it was nothing a good bath and a change of clothes could not fix.

If only all his problems were so easily solved.

When the butler opened the door, Spencer introduced himself immediately to avoid any misunderstandings. “The Marquess of Leighton, here to see the Viscount,” he said with a smile. “He may not be expecting me, but I was invited…”

The short butler bowed his head and took a step back. “Of course, my lord. Please come in. His lordship and his guests are currently out on a picnic, but if you would like to wait in the parlor…”

It was lucky for the house party guests that the rain of the previous day seemed to be staying away, although the clouds were not entirely friendly.

“Thank you. Perhaps I could change and freshen up, before they arrive? It was a hard ride.”

“Of course, my lord. I will show you to a chamber, and have hot water brought up. And perhaps something to eat, since you have missed the picnic?”

Spencer grinned. “It’s like you can read my mind.”

He felt energized by the hard ride and the distance between himself and London, and the person on his mind.

Perhaps he ought to have got away to the country sooner, he thought to himself as he stripped off his dirty clothes and washed his face and hair as best his could with the basin of warm water.

Later that night he would ask for a bath, he decided—presuming his host did not ask him to leave, since he had technically declined the invitation.

As he redressed and wolfed down the sandwiches that had been sent up, he wondered if he would feel so invigorated if he went to his own country seat of Sythmore Abbey in Wiltshire.

He did not think so. He had avoided it for a reason.

There were far too many memories there. But perhaps he could escape elsewhere, once the house party was through.

James had offered for him to accompany him to his family home, Bracknall Place.

Or he could choose another of the homes he now owned.

Hell, he could purchase a new property. He was not without wealth, now that he was the marquess—and he had no idea what to do with it all.

He was not a gambler, and he had no son to build an inheritance for.

He did not expect to ever have a wife or children to provide for—so why not spend some of the money he had never really wanted on a place to escape to from the city?

Somewhere with no memories to haunt him at all.

The sound of hooves and chattering voices broke his reverie, and he moved to the window to see the house party returning.

He recognized Montgomery, and Timothy and James of course, but the rest of the guests—one other male and three females—were unknown to him.

He took a deep breath and checked his appearance in the mirror.

A wash and a change of clothes had done him a world of good.

He looked the part of a marquess now—however little he felt like one.

When he made his way downstairs, he found they were waiting for him in the parlor. The butler had obviously announced his arrival, because no one looked shocked.

“This is a pleasant surprise, Spencer,” Montgomery said, clapping him on the back with a cheerful grin. The red head had always been of a cheery disposition, and Spencer could not help but smile back.

“I hope you’ll forgive me for changing my mind after I had sent my regrets.”

“Of course! The more the merrier. And we’ve plans to fish tomorrow, so you’ve not missed that. Now, you know James and Timothy, of course. And this is Mr. Templeton, from Hounslow.”

A tall, dark-haired gentleman with a serious face reached out his hand to shake Spencer’s. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord Leighton.”

“And we’re honored with the presence of these three lovely young ladies—Lady Daphne Harrow, and Misses Jennifer and Louisa Trentbridge. Ladies, allow me to present the Marquess of Leighton.”

The three ladies curtseyed and smiled, and one of the misses Trentbridge—Spencer thought she was Louisa—batted her eyelashes at him. The ladies were clearly eyeing up this new guest as potential marriage material—which he most certainly was not.

Spencer smiled politely, and quickly made his way to Timothy and James, who expressed how unexpected his arrival had been.

“London get boring without us?” Timothy asked.

He laughed at his friend’s arrogance. “Something like that.”

“Well, it’s good to see you here. And Monty has promised a marvelous day tomorrow, too—it’s nice to get out of the city and be able to really ride, isn’t it!”

Spencer nodded. “It’s certainly a good distraction.”