Anne Herries - The Scandalous Lord Lanchester

‘As to that, you know you are welcome to live with us, Mariah.’

‘You are so generous. Andrew told me that Lucinda has said much the same. She wants me to consider returning to Avonlea when I’ve had enough of Italy—though how anyone could ever be tired of such a glorious place I do not know.’

‘I do so agree with you,’ Sylvia said, looking fondly at her. ‘If Hubert had no estates to worry him I should prevail on him to stay for another six months at the very least. However, two months more is as long as he can spare and so we shall have to leave in a few weeks so that the journey home is achieved in easy stages.’

‘Yes, I know. Besides, there are pleasures to be had at home,’ Mariah said. ‘Winston has a beautiful country house. I have no desire to live there and shall probably let it to tenants, but they must of course be the right tenants. I think I would prefer to live in London with visits to Bath, Avonlea—and, of course, Italy, whenever I can prevail on someone to bear me company.’

‘I would not turn down the chance another year. We could always travel with friends if Hubert could not find the time to accompany us,’ Sylvia said. ‘But you may be married by then, dearest. Your husband will wish to travel with you no doubt.’

‘Perhaps …’ Mariah looked wistful. ‘Andrew kindly offered to vet my suitors for me. I think I shall accept his help. I have made up my mind that I would be more comfortable married to a decent man. I wanted to fall in love—but perhaps I should settle for a comfortable arrangement.’

‘Would you not regret it?’ Sylvia raised her brows. ‘Surely you are young enough to hope for a little romance in your marriage this time?’

‘I think Winston was the most romantic man I’ve ever met,’ Mariah said and laughed as she saw her friend’s surprise. ‘No, truly he was. Everyone saw the age difference between us and believed the worst—but he was so gallant and so loving to me. He kissed my hand every morning. Every night I found either a rose or a flower of some kind on my pillow. Even when he was ill he had the gardener bring in a perfect bloom to place in my room for him.’

Sylvia blinked hard. ‘You bring tears to my eyes, my love. Of course I knew that Winston adored you but I did not realise that he was such a sweet man. It is little wonder that you hesitate to marry for a second time. I do not think it will be easy to find a man like Winston again.’

‘No, I think I shall not,’ Mariah agreed. ‘But perhaps I should seek someone rather different this time. I was utterly spoiled in my first marriage, but I am older and wiser now. It is time for me to grow up, to move on.’

‘I do not think you could do better than Lord Lanchester himself,’ Sylvia said. ‘He is handsome, respected and has no need of your fortune—besides, I think he likes you, my love.’

‘Yes, I think he likes me,’ Mariah agreed and sighed. She might never find such devotion as she had from Winston again, but she was so tired of being a widow. ‘However, Lord Lanchester shows no sign of making me an offer. I did think at one time—but he did not speak and I think I lost my chance. Something must have made him decide that I was not the wife he wanted, though he is still concerned for my safety and well-being.’

‘Perhaps the right moment has not yet presented itself,’ Sylvia suggested. ‘Be patient, Mariah. He may speak when he is ready.’

‘I fear patience is not my best virtue.’ Mariah laughed at herself, for she knew her own faults. ‘Once I make up my mind to something, I must act—and I have decided that I need a husband, or the promise of one, before we return to England.’

‘Think carefully, my love,’ her friend advised. ‘If you marry in haste, you may regret it.’

‘I have been a widow for nearly two years,’ Mariah said. ‘I have thought of contenting myself with affairs, but I think it would suit me better to be married.’

Seeing she had shocked her friend, Mariah laughed again and took her arm.

‘No, really, dearest, it would not be so very terrible, would it?’

‘Well … if one were discreet.’ Sylvia shook her head. ‘You have been married … I know you are teasing me—but Hubert would be most shocked if he heard you. You might lose all chance of a decent marriage, my dear.’

‘Yes, I dare say,’ Mariah said, slightly impatient, for she thought her friend’s husband a little pompous at times. ‘But I am so tired of sleeping alone… . I want to be courted for myself, loved.’

What would Sylvia think if she knew that her marriage had remained unconsummated? That she was, in fact, still a virgin? It was something she could never tell anyone, even her best friends.

A little later that evening Mariah stood by the open windows of the salon looking out at the night. The sky was velvet dark with only a faint light from the moon, which was half-hidden by clouds, but the air was much cooler after the heat of the day. She was tempted to walk in the gardens, but if she did, someone was sure to follow—and she could not be sure the right man would join her.

‘Mariah, my dear, I want you to meet some friends of Hubert’s,’ Sylvia said, causing her to turn round and look at the newcomers. With a little shock she recognised the man who had saved her from a fall earlier that day. ‘This is Sir Harold Jenkins, Lady Jenkins—and their nephew, Lieutenant Grainger.’

‘What a surprise to see you again, Lieutenant,’ Mariah said, extending her hand with a smile. ‘Good evening, Sir Harold, Lady Jenkins, I am pleased to meet you.’

‘Good evening, Lady Fanshawe,’ Lieutenant Grainger replied and kissed her hand, looking into her eyes with such warmth a moment later that Mariah was surprised. ‘I am so pleased to meet you again.’

‘You met earlier? You did not tell us,’ Lady Jenkins said archly, throwing her nephew a fond look.

‘I met Lady Fanshawe walking towards the spot where a rock fall had taken place and was able to warn her that it was dangerous to go farther in that direction. I have since spoken to the authorities and they assured me a fence would be put in place immediately.’

‘Ah, that is just like you, Peter,’ Lady Jenkins said and looked directly at Mariah. ‘My nephew is such a correct young man, Lady Fanshawe. Many would simply ignore something of that nature—but Peter always thinks of others.’

‘You are too partial, Aunt.’ Peter Grainger looked slightly embarrassed. ‘You must forgive her, Lady Fanshawe. I assure you that I did only what anyone would have done in the circumstances.’

‘I am sure that many would not,’ Mariah said. ‘Tell me, sir—how do you like Lake Como? Do you prefer it to Lake Garda?’

‘I think all the lakes have their merits—but I believe the situation of Como makes it most agreeable to those who prefer a little more tranquillity. There are more visitors—or it seems there are more at Garda.’

‘Yes, that was my feeling also,’ Mariah said, warming to him. He seemed a sensible man. She had no doubt that his aunt was aware of her fortune, but Lieutenant Grainger did not seem overly anxious to impress her. Indeed, he had taken himself off at once after she’d revealed her status to him earlier that day and she was inclined to think he was in no particular need of her fortune. ‘I think we have time for a turn in the garden before dinner, sir. Would you care to oblige me?’

He looked a little startled, as if her boldness had surprised him, but immediately offered his arm. ‘A little air on the terrace would be perfect. I believe Count Paolo’s gardens are reputed to be very fine?’

‘Yes, indeed they are. We are fortunate that he allows us to stay here.’

Andrew watched with narrowed eyes as the pair disappeared out through the open doors onto the terrace. They stood talking in full view of the room so there was nothing particularly clandestine or intimate about their behaviour, but he found the sight oddly disturbing. Mariah had promised to take his advice in the matter of a husband; he did not think that Grainger was wholly suitable, but, as yet, he had not managed to think of anyone he could recommend to her wholeheartedly.