Page 25 of The Lady of the Lamps (Vows in Vauxhall Gardens #1)

T he figure on the other side of the door gasped. “Louisa!”

Forcing one foot in front of the other, Spencer stepped to the side to see who the feminine voice belonged to, and saw the elder Miss Trentbridge, fully clothed and with a shocked expression on her face.

“I was worried when you were not in our room, sister. I had thought to ask if Lord Leighton had seen you, but I did not expect—”

“Miss Trentbridge appears to have wandered into the wrong room. An innocent error, I am sure…” Spencer said, his voice weary. Did he expect the young lady before him to believe that nothing had happened, when her sister was half-dressed in a single man’s bedchamber?

Or was she party to whatever this ridiculous scheme was?

“My lord, you know it is not acceptable for you to be alone with my sister. Why, anything could have—”

Spencer was about to defend himself, and the young lady’s honor, when heavy footsteps fell in the hall, and his heart dropped.

Another witness was the last thing he needed.

He could practically see himself walking reluctantly down the aisle, and waiting for Miss Trentbridge at the altar.

Because however irritated he was, and whether or not this was a set up, he knew his stupid code of honor would not allow him to leave the girl ruined and unwed.

But he would try to avoid that at all costs.

He was half-tempted to pull both women into his bedchamber, so the approaching guest would not see them—but that would surely only look worse. Two young ladies alone in his room, and at least one of them surely protesting.

How had a perfectly ordinary evening turned into this mess?

“What’s the problem here?” a male voice asked, and Spencer didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed that it was James. A friendly face was surely a bonus—but would his friend believe that he had nothing to do with this farce?

“I was looking for my sister,” Miss Jennifer Trentbridge said. “And I am afraid I found her in Lord Leighton’s room, alone, and dressed…thus…” She let out a half-sob, and Spencer gritted his teeth.

Really, society was ridiculous. That a girl’s future would be ruined for being in a room where nothing had happened.

And yet no one would believe that nothing had occurred—that was the problem.

And if the lady had been the one who filled his thoughts, and she had stood before him in a translucent night rail that clung to her curves…

Well, then something would have happened. He knew that without a doubt. Despite the fact that he was broken, despite the fact that he knew he would not be a good husband to her, he did not think he could resist the woman he wanted above everything else.

His heart ached for her. His body ached for her. That one kiss they had shared had set his blood burning through the body in a way encounters with other women had never done.

But she was not the young lady in the room.

And he had not so much as had an impure thought about Miss Trentbridge.

And yet… Who would believe him?

James’s eyebrows knitted together. “That does not sound like Lord Leighton.” He looked up at his friend, and Spencer felt hope bloom in his heart. If James believed him, perhaps there was an escape from this mess.

“The girl was in my room when I came upstairs. I have no idea—”

“Were you lost, Miss Louisa?” James asked, offering her an easy out.

“I—” The girl’s eyes widened, and then filled with tears, and guilt poked at Spencer’s heart.

At the sound of a door closing down the hallway, James stepped forward. The house was certainly active that night. “Let’s get to the bottom of this without giving the rest of the guests a show, shall we?” he said, crossing the threshold into Spencer’s room.

Miss Jennifer Trentbridge looked scandalized. “Lord Fount! I certainly cannot countenance my sister and I being alone with two gentlemen—”

“I do not wish to see anyone ruined, Miss Trentbridge. But if we stand here much longer, you might very well both be. And perhaps your sister does not mind a quick and arranged marriage, but I rather think you might.”

Spencer was quite impressed at how accurately James had read the situation—and by the horrified look on Jennifer Trentbridge’s face, she had not thought of this possible consequence of her presence here, and she did not like it.

She smartly stepped into the chamber without further protest, and James shut the door behind her.

“Now, Miss Louisa. Why are you here, and why are you crying?”

Miss Louisa looked to her sister, and then back at the two gentlemen, before letting out a sob. “Oh, Jenny, I’m sorry. I knew you’d come looking for me, and Lord Leighton’s room was the closest, and—”

Miss Jennifer Trentbridge frowned. “What do you mean? Why are you here? Did Lord Leighton proposition you? Or—”

“I did nothing of the kind,” Spencer insisted. “All I want is to go to bed, alone , and forget this evening ever happened.”

“Now, Spencer, the girl is upset,” James said, with more patience than Spencer could summon. “Why did you come here?”

She flushed red, and looked to the floor, and then mumbled out a long sentence without really taking a breath. “Lord Leighton seemed so nice, and kind and I thought if Jenny found me in his room, in my night rail, then he would have to marry me, and…”

Spencer gritted his teeth to avoid letting out an irritated growl. Just as he’d thought—the chit was trying to trap him.

He felt sorry for her clear misery, but he did not like being maneuvered.

“Why would you do such a thing?” her sister asked, saving James the need to continue his interrogation.

“Because…because they’re going to marry me off to Mr. Jenkins,” she said with a sob.

“Our cousin? No, I am sure Mama was joking, she is not—”

Miss Louisa sniffed and shook her head. “Before we came here, she told me that if I was unwed by the end of the year, I would be marrying him. You know the estate is entailed on him, and if I marry him…well, it will become mine too. And then our children’s…

She believes you have a better chance of a good match than I do, so she wants me to marry him. ”

“But the man is a bore!” the elder Miss Trentbridge said, louder than Spencer would have liked, considering he did not wish anyone to know there were two unwed misses in his bedchamber. “And thrice your age.”

“I know. So I thought…” She looked up at Spencer, tears and despair in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Lord Leighton. I thought… I thought you would do the right thing, and you might save me from my fate. Tricking you was wrong, I am sorry, I just…”

“Didn’t know what to do,” James finished. “We understand, Miss Trentbridge. And, assuming we can all keep this to ourselves, there is no harm done.”

Miss Trentbridge let out a sob. Of course, for her, the harm was done already—if she did not find a husband, she would have to marry the man she despised.

It was almost enough to make Spencer offer her marriage. He hated to see a woman so trapped, so alone in the world, so desperate.

And yet… He knew he could not tie himself to a woman he could never love, to save her from a man she did not love. He hadn’t even been able to tie himself to the woman he did love, to save her from a similar fate.

“Of course, this will not leave this room,” Miss Jennifer Trentbridge assured them. “Lord Leighton, Lord Fount, I can only apologize for my sister’s poor judgment and hope you will not hold it against her.”

“Of course,” James said with a smooth bow, altogether more polite and attentive than Spencer could be in that moment. “Let me make sure the coast is clear, ladies, and you can return to your rooms with no one the wiser.”

When they were gone, Spencer sat down on the end of his bed and took a deep breath.

That had been close. Far too close. If anyone but James had stumbled across them, or if Miss Louisa had not had an attack of conscience and admitted to her scheme, he could very well be betrothed at this very moment.

And that would surely have been a disaster—for both himself, and for Miss Trentbridge, when she realized what she had married.

A man who jumped at loud noises. A man who could not look to the future.

A man who spent every night trapped in a world of nightmares that he could never escape.

She was better off with the aged, boring gentleman she was to be affianced to.

The door, which James had left ajar, closed, making Spencer jump and then hate himself for doing so. But it was only James, with that easy smile on his face.

“I’m going to go to bed—but I thought you might need some of this first,” he said, holding up a silver hip flask that he was rarely without. He handed it to Spencer, who took it gratefully. A large swig of the port inside was what he needed to reset his mind.

“Well, that was a turn up for the books,” James said when Spencer had not said anything, but had simply tipped back the hip flask once more.

“Indeed,” Spencer finally said. “I suspected she was interested in me, but I did not think she would plan a stunt like this…”

James whistled. “Nor I. She must be really desperate, if she would go to such lengths.” He tutted and shook his head.

“I know we men are always trying to avoid getting tied down—look at Timothy, for God’s sake.

Betrothed all this time and still not wishing to set a date.

And yet we have so much more choice than the ladies do…

Especially those who still need their parents’ permission to wed. ”

Spencer nodded. He did not disagree with his friend’s assessment of the plight of unwed young ladies—but right now, he was rather irritated at the trap he had almost been caught in.

“And you have no interest in marrying the girl at all?” James asked, taking back his flask and finishing the contents. “She’s an attractive woman, and she’ll have been raised for such a position in society…”

“No,” Spencer said without needing to think. “No interest.”

“Because you do not wish to wed?”

“Because I do not wish to wed…” Spencer began, and then added the word that was on his tongue, even though he knew it would invite questions, “…her.”

“Ah,” James said, his eyes lighting up. “So there is someone you would happily be tied to for the rest of your life.”

Spencer closed his eyes and groaned. “Perhaps, not that I wish to discuss this. But I am not fit to be a husband—whether to a girl I wish to wed or one I do not.”

“Stuff and nonsense,” James said with a loud tut. “That’s a story you’ve told yourself, Spencer, and it’s not true.”

He had not shared this particular opinion before, and so no one had ever refuted it—but he was shocked at how quickly James dismissed it.

“It is true,” he said, twisting his hands together. “You know how broken I am, after the war. After losing…Jack. After everything.”

James narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. “You may not be the same man as before, but you are not broken. You have a life to live, a title to pass on, and you cannot spend the rest of your life feeling guilty that you survived and your brother, God rest his soul, did not.”

Spencer sucked in a deep breath as James’s words sank in. He was not speaking harshly, but plainly, and in a way no one had ever spoken to Spencer before.

“I don’t feel…” he began before trailing off. Because, of course, his friend was right. He did feel guilty for surviving.

He thought he ought to.

But James, apparently, did not.

James put the hip flask back inside his jacket pocket and moved to the door. “Just think on it, Spencer. No one wants to see you miserable for the rest of your days—and I know your brother wouldn’t have wanted that, either.”

Spencer simply nodded, feeling too overcome by emotion for words.

James moved to the door but paused with his hand on the knob. He peered over his shoulder at him. “And even with what I’ve said, even if you would be the perfect husband…you have no interest in Miss Louisa, correct?”

Spencer looked at him. “No interest, whatsoever,” he confirmed, his voice a little croaky.

He was relieved when his friend left him to return to his own chamber.

When he had first come up to his bedchamber, he had thought he would fall straight to sleep.

Then the near-disastrous events of the night had delayed his slumber by more than an hour—so when he climbed into bed, sleep did not come.

Instead Spencer found himself picturing the woman he wished to marry—in another life, another world, where such a thing might be possible.

Because even if he wasn’t broken beyond repair, which he still believed he was, it was too late. Lady Beatrix was betrothed.