The Notorious Lord Havergal (23 page)

“I didn’t discharge the note. Havergal did. He was there, at Wideman’s. He gave it to me.”

Tom rubbed his ear and furrowed his youthful brow. “I don’t see how the devil he got it. I showed it to him when I was explaining my ‘spot of trouble,’ as Norton so kindly blabbed to him. Old maid.”

“He is a very good friend, Tom. Don’t speak so harshly of Ned, if you please.”

“It’s the first time I ever heard you say a good word about him,” he reminded her. “Havergal must have pocketed the note when I wasn’t looking. But why did he discharge it? I turned down his offer of a loan. He gave a curious look when I told him I was afraid you meant to sell your diamonds. He left right after that, now that I think of it. I say, Lettie, there isn’t a match brewing between the pair of you, is there? I don’t see why else he would—”

“No, there is not.”

“I didn’t think so. I mean, he is rather young....”

Another shaft entered her heart. “We must repay him at once.”

“But why did he do it?”

“I have no idea. You must take this five hundred from my diamonds and repay him, Tom. I won’t be indebted to him.”

“I don’t even know where he lives. He is the one who called on me.”

“On Berkeley Square,” Lettie said in a hollow voice. “If he is not there, leave the money and a note, thanking him.”

“Well of course I’ll thank him, though I think it demmed encroaching of him to have gone darting off without a word to me. He must have done it for you. I scarcely know the man. Shouldn’t you write a note as well, Lettie? I mean he obviously meant well. And what about your diamonds?”

“Damn the diamonds. I hope I never see them again either,” she said, and broke into tears.

Tom studied her a moment in silence, then went forward and led her to the sofa, where he patted her head and felt very mature. Poor old Lettie, she was never prone to vapors. Must be getting unsettled in her old age. “Never mind, old girl. I’ll get it all straightened out.”

Lettie looked up with watery eyes. “Tell him— Oh, never mind. What’s the use? He’ll never have me now.”

Tom stared. It seemed entirely unlikely that a top-of-the-trees buck like Havergal would give Lettie a second look, but he had paid the note. Must be something afoot between them. Odd Havergal hadn’t mentioned it. “I know your sister,” he had said, or something cold like that. Not “I want to marry your sister.” Tom would have remembered that.

“The money is in here,” Lettie said, and handed Tom her reticule.

He found the money and the chit for Lettie’s sale of the necklace. He wanted to redeem it before they left London and took the chit. Maybe Norton would lend him the blunt. Yes, going to marry Violet after all. Practically family, and he would insist on paying interest, get it all drawn up legally.

“Righto then, I’ll be back in two shakes. Now buck up, Lettie. There is nothing as unsightly as a watering can. Why don’t you go upstairs and have a lie down till Violet returns?”

“Yes, I’ll do that,” Lettie said, and dragged herself up from the chair. Tom handed her her reticule, and she went upstairs.

The room was not large or beautiful, but she knew from the night before that the bed was comfortable, and she lay on it, gazing up at the ceiling. Havergal had not led Tom astray, as she had thought. He had tried to help Tom. It was Crymont who had done the mischief. It was clear now that Havergal had really cut his friendship with the duke. Whatever had transpired at the inn the night of Norton’s ball, when Havergal agreed to meet Crymont there, it might have been innocent. She should have asked Jacob.

Jacob. The name was a luxury she hadn’t allowed herself since Havergal had left Ashford. Since she had dismissed him, to put it in plain Anglo-Saxon. She had accused him without anything but circumstantial evidence. How cold and vindictive he must think her. Accusing him rashly, when he had been trying to help Tom and her. Hot tears ran down from her eyes to moisten the pillow. And she hadn’t even sent a note of apology with Tom. She must do so at once. Perhaps he would call before they left London....

When she remembered his frozen face the last time she saw him, she didn’t think he would call. A man could only take so much abuse. She had lost Norton, too, by her indifference. “It’s the first time I ever heard you say a good word about him.” She was glad that Tom was coming home, but it would be only a matter of time before Tom found himself a bride, and obviously he wouldn’t want a shrew like herself in the house. Laurel Hall didn’t have a dower house. Perhaps Tom would build her a small one.... She wouldn’t need much space—all alone.

An hour passed before Violet joined her, smiling and chattering like a magpie about the shops, dear Ned, and the sweet ring he had bought her. She held out her left hand, where a large diamond sparkled on her third finger. Lettie summoned her resources to make the proper show of delight and deliver her compliments.

“He is taking us all out to the theater after dinner tonight. Tom is coming with us. Isn’t it exciting, Lettie? We like London so much we have decided to have our honeymoon here.”

Lettie smiled and nodded, then prepared her announcement. She had a migraine and would not be joining the party that night. Violet’s next speech reminded her that that cowardly course was not open to her. “So kind of you to treat us to this dinner, Lettie. But you know Ned won’t let us pay a penny of the cost of this trip, so it is a way to repay him. I shouldn’t be surprised if we find our hotel bill already paid when we leave.”

“We mustn’t let him do that!” Lettie exclaimed, and said nothing about her migraine.

“Try if you can stop him! What are you wearing tonight?”

“I brought my bronze taffeta.”

“Excellent, and I shall wear my green, with the new fringed shawl I bought this afternoon.”

They both began the arduous task of preparing for an unaccustomed evening at the theater. The only reference to Tom and his debt was a few brief sentences.

“Tom told me it is all settled, about his debt,” Violet said.

“Yes, we got it straightened out. He is so eager to return to Laurel Hall.”

“So he said! I think it is for the best. And you will have someone to stay with now. Things couldn’t have worked out better.”

“Yes.”

“I understand Havergal was involved somehow.” Lettie acknowledged it with a half-smile, unable to speak. “Ned wanted to ask him to the theater with us, but it was impossible to get another seat on such short notice.”

“That’s too bad,” Lettie said, and felt vastly relieved. She was also curious to hear what Tom had to say about his visit to Berkeley Square. “Tom is back then, is he?”

“He was, but he had to dart out to recover his evening clothes. He will be changing in Ned’s room and meet us downstairs.”

This arrangement made it difficult to have a private word with Tom, but she would get him aside at the first opportunity. This occurred while Ned was consulting the waiter about wine before dinner, “Was Havergal at home?” she asked in a low voice. Tom nodded. “What did he have to say?”

“He just accepted the money and my thanks. Seemed a tad chilly, I thought.”

No wonder, Lettie added to herself. Dinner and the theater after seemed unreal and unending. Lettie was there in body, smiling and trying to add a few words to the conversation, but her mind was far away, repining over her lost chance for happiness. After the theater Norton insisted on taking them to a hotel for more supper.

“This is what I call a fine evening. What do you all say to staying over for another day?” he said as they finally prepared to leave the supper table.

“Oh no!” Lettie exclaimed weakly.

“The thing is, Lettie, Vi wants to pick up a few trifles for her trousseau,” Ned explained. “I have a couple of things to do myself. I would like to get measured for a proper London jacket for my wedding—it seems a waste to have to come back again when we are already here. Another day would do it. There is no great yank to get home, is there?”

“No, but--”

He said in a low voice, “If it is the cost that deters you, don’t give it a thought. It will be my treat.”

“That’s not necessary—really.”

“I would like to make a few calls and say goodbye to some of my friends,” Tom said.

Suddenly it was decided. They were to remain another day. Lettie felt as if she had been given a life sentence.

She saw and heard, as if from a great distance, Violet’s mouth saying, “You may want to do some shopping yourself, Lettie. You will stand as my bridesmaid, I hope?”

“Always a bridesmaid; never a bride,” Norton joked. “Just funning, Lettie. You will be snapped up before the summer is out. Mark my words.”

Lettie was obliged to smile and accept this leveler in good spirits.

The long, deep breaths from the pillow beside her told Lettie that Violet was enjoying a peaceful sleep. Lettie lay in the darkness, staring at the rectangle of window, where a wan ray of moonlight penetrated through the closed draperies. The subject that occupied her mind was whether the day that just passed was the worst day of her life, or whether the Sunday she had stayed away from her own luncheon party exceeded it in grief.

She decided that the more recent day took the palm, for it lacked even the counter-irritant of anger to help assuage her grief. This entire muddle was all her own fault. She must swallow her pride and write an apology to Havergal before she left the city. As sleep was impossible, she spent some time mentally composing the epistle and rose early the next morning to put it to paper while Violet was still asleep.

But when she sat down to write, she was nervous at being caught out and forgot all her high-flown phrases. The message came from the heart. “Havergal,” she wrote, after much soul-searching to decide between Jacob and Lord Havergal, or Dear Lord Havergal. “I am deeply sorry that I misjudged you. I was wrong, and I apologize.” Once she began writing, the words came easily, as though she were speaking to him, holding nothing back. “I confess I had judged you before we ever met, taking my opinions from the journals and our occasional scuffle over your funds. Your first visit, if you remember, tended to reinforce my opinion. You changed, but my opinion did not, and at heart I was always ready to believe the worst of you. I appreciate your kindness on Tom’s behalf and believe that you did it, at least in part, to please me. I would be very sorry to think I had totally lost that regard you once held, for your opinion matters a great deal to me. Sincerely, Lettie.”

She read the note once, quickly, before sealing it up and sending it off via a servant to Norton’s footman for delivery. Taking some action bolstered her confidence, and when the party met for breakfast, she agreed to spend the morning shopping with Violet while Ned ordered his new jacket and Tom sought out his friends. When they regrouped at the hotel for lunch, she made a discreet inquiry at the desk for an answer to her note. There was none. Havergal must surely have had it before he left home that morning. He had not forgiven her, then. She was sorry, but she could not blame him.

When plans were being laid for the afternoon, Lettie said she would like to be left off at Somerset House to view the spring exhibition of paintings. What she really wanted was not to be a nuisance to the lovers and to be alone to nurse her bruised spirits.

“We’ll go with you,” Norton said at once. “There is nothing I like better than to look at fine pictures. A half an hour to view, and—”

“You misunderstand, Ned. I would like to browse for hours. I am old enough to look after myself, and I shall take a hansom cab back to the hotel.”

“That you will not. Just tell us how long you wish to gawk around, and we’ll pick you up after.”

“Two hours,” she decided. That would get them home in time for tea. There would be only one more evening of this living hell, then she could get home and let her wound begin to heal.

“Perhaps Tom would like to go with you,” Violet suggested.

“No, Tom is meeting his friends for one last outing before he goes home.”

After many attempts at dissuasion, Lettie had her way and was let off at Somerset House. She was surprised at the enormous size of the place and the quantity of pictures hung higgledy-piggledy from ceiling to floor. They were nearly impossible to see for the crowds of art lovers. She let herself be carried along by the throng, seeing a corner of a painted wheat field here, the crossed legs of a gentleman farmer there, and occasionally gaining a glimpse of a whole painting high above her head. She didn’t mind. The crowd and crush provided a diversion from her thoughts.

There was a grand staircase, presumably leading to more paintings abovestairs. Thinking that the upstairs gallery might be less crowded, she worked her way toward the stairs.

* * * *

It was Lord Havergal’s custom to arrive at the House at ten or shortly after in the morning. On that day, however, he planned to leave at noon, so he went to his office at eight. He missed Norton’s footman by minutes. At work he was hardly aware of the complicated matters he studied. His mind kept straying to Lettie. After visiting five jewelry shops, he had found her diamonds and redeemed them with the five hundred pounds Tom had repaid him. He would send them to her hotel, and that was the last personal communication he would have with her. A rueful smile tugged at his lips. The second to the last. She would certainly repay him for the diamonds. And she would continue to forward his quarterly check from Uncle Horace’s trust. Punctually on the dot. Miss Beddoes was as dependable as the tide.

What must she have made of him, with his lies and ruses, his drinking and his lightskirts? God, she must have thought Satan himself had invaded her orderly world. He admired her serenity and sense of order, but a lady could be too set in her ways, too narrow-minded, too judgmental. Damn, she could at least give him credit for trying. And damn the duke’s eyes. Had she thought they were carrying on with lightskirts again? Surely she didn’t have that poor an opinion of him! He meant to send the diamonds to the hotel with a footman at noon. Whatever her plans for the morning, she would surely go to their hotel at noon to freshen up. The member of Parliament for his own riding chose twelve o’clock to call on Havergal and discuss riding matters. Allenbury was an excellent member, and he couldn’t be treated shabbily. When Havergal finally got away and returned to Berkeley Square, it was one o’clock. He was handed Lettie’s note at the door. “This arrived just after you left, Your Lordship.”