A Lady's Virture Read online

  “I have no intention of ever living in Philadelphia again. I have a partner who runs my business from that end. I like England, and now that I have a title, there are many people who depend on me here. Besides, I have people whom I care about and would not wish to leave behind.” His gaze roved over Sylvia, and he sipped his wine.

  The room was closing in on Sylvia. The little she had eaten was churning in her gut. “Will you all excuse me? I’m not feeling well.”

  Anthony stood. His forehead creased, and he rounded the table to help her up. “Can I do anything for you? Shall I call a doctor?”

  Stepping back, she put quick distance between them. “No. No. I’ll be fine. I need some air is all. I’ll go to the garden for a few minutes then rest for the night.”

  “Are you certain?” He stepped closer, looking like he intended to sweep her up and carry her away.

  “I’m fine. It’s been a long day and I feel a bit flushed. That is all.” She ran from the dining room, down the hall, and out the rear door to the garden.

  The cool night air eased her nausea. She had no idea how she was going to get through the week if she couldn’t be in the same room with Anthony without falling into a pit of despair. She would have to harness these feelings and put them aside before they ruined her. An Everton lady did not lose her head over a client. She did her job and moved on to the next assignment, and that was what Sylvia was determined to do.

  In the dark garden, only the moon lit her way. It was not quite full but gave enough light for her to find the path. Still she wouldn’t go far for fear of losing herself in the little wilderness at night.

  Roses scented the light breeze, and her skin prickled with the dropping temperatures. Clutching her arms around her waist, she closed her eyes and breathed deep the night.

  As she was thinking it a pity it was too cool to remain in the garden, the soft wool of a shawl settled around her shoulders.

  “I thought you might be cold.” Anthony’s breath tickled the back of her ear.

  She clutched the shawl and wished his arms came with the fabric to hold her and keep her warm. “You shouldn’t be out here with me. What will my sister and Mrs. Horthorn think?”

  Still dressed for dinner, he was striking in the moonlight. His dark hair glowed, and he faded into the night, but those piercing eyes captured her heart. “You have been away from the table long enough that dinner ended. The other ladies were tired from their day and retired early.”

  “Then we are truly alone.” Her voice broke and trembled.

  He brushed his knuckles along her jaw. “Are you afraid of me, Sylvie?”

  “No. I could never fear you, Tony.”

  “I should hope not. I would never hurt you. Never.” He was too close, too handsome and too delectable.

  She stepped back. “All men say such things, when they have no idea what hurts a woman.”

  Shaking his head, he offered his arm. “It’s late. Can I escort you back to the house?”

  “I can find my own way.” The bite in her voice was too sharp, but she had to get away from him and make him see how awful they were for each other.

  “Are you cross with me now?” His golden eyes flashed like a lion’s.

  Tugging the edges of the shawl around her, she stomped her foot. “We don’t all of us need a man to tell us what to do or carry us back to the house. I am independent. I am an Everton lady.” Her voice cracked again.

  “What does that have to do with a gentleman offering escort? You English made these rules. I’m just trying to follow them. If you want to return on your own, then go ahead.” He threw his hands up in the air.

  It was too hard to be near him and want him, but know it was wrong. “I want you to leave me alone. If I ever want something from a man, it will not be a man like you. I’ll pick a mister, not a lord.”

  “Is that what this is all about? A stupid title. I can give it up if that’s what it would take to convince you. I will tell the king I don’t want his stupid title and give it all back. What more can I do?” In his excitement, he’d begun waving both hands around.

  Men and their solutions were ridiculous. “You all think you can have whatever you want. I don’t want you. Can’t you understand that?”

  The air seemed to suck out of the world. Sylvia couldn’t breathe or speak. She wanted to take it back, but she couldn’t do that either.

  Anthony’s eyes widened, grew cold then sad. “If that’s true, then I owe you an apology. I should have realized my interest was not reciprocated. Forgive me and my foolishness. If it’s a mister you want, I’m sure Miles Hallsmith will be happy to court a lady such as yourself. You’ve made quite an impression on him. Again, I’m sorry to have misunderstood.”

  Before she could call out to him, he’d disappeared into the dark garden. She knew she’d done the right thing, but the sorrow in his expression would haunt her for the rest of her life. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she dashed it away before the next came. Soon too many followed, and she went in the house, up the steps, and to her room. She wished she’d not insisted on having Serena in the same room, but her sister was there with open arms and it felt good to have someone care about her distress.

  She cried until no more tears would come.

  Serena petted her hair. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  “No. I want to be stronger and not want things I cannot have.” She swallowed down another round of misery and buried her face in her pillow.

  Sitting on the edge of Sylvia’s bed, Serena asked, “What is it you cannot have?”

  “What every girl wants. What I wanted before Hunter ruined everything. A husband, children, and a home.”

  “Oh, Sylvie, you are a fool. You can have all those things if you want them. I suspect you could have them with a very rich, handsome, and charming lord, who is under this roof right now. The question is why don’t you want those things? Is it just fear, or do you have a good reason?”

  “Fear is a good reason.”

  “You are the bravest person I know, Sylvie. You can stand up for anyone and help them accomplish anything. You are funny in a wicked and wonderful way, and I hate that you’ve lost some of that. But you have let fear run your life for the past year. You should have thanked your lucky stars that you didn’t marry Hunter and live the rest of your life with a man who would do such a terrible thing. He did you a favor, and you should be the first one to recognize it. If you love Anthony Braighton, you should allow yourself to be happy.”

  “I don’t. He doesn’t. We aren’t.” More tears and several handkerchiefs later, exhaustion won, and Sylvia slept.

  * * * *

  Her head pounded when she woke up the following morning. She rang for Jenny, who rushed in with a pot of coffee and a blue day dress slung over one arm.

  “Where is Serena?”

  Jenny placed the dress on the end of the bed and poured the coffee. “She was up early and is walking in the garden. This is the latest I’ve ever known you to sleep, Miss Sylvia. Are you feeling all right?”

  “I’m fine. Perhaps too much wine last night,” she lied and wondered when it had become so easy to do so.

  “Mrs. Long asked me to remind you that you said you would help arrange flowers for the guest rooms.”

  Sylvia drank the bitter coffee down in two long gulps. “I did say that. Help me dress, Jenny. I have a lot to do before the other guests arrive.

  If she stayed busy, she could avoid Anthony for the entire day. She would see him at meals, but it would be easy enough to ignore him, and surely after her behavior in the garden, he’d not speak to her again.

  More tears pressed against the back of her eyes, but she fought them down. She had to keep her wits about her or she’d be made a fool, and that wouldn’t do. Being a member of the Society was all she had. If she became a laughingstock and the object of
even more gossip, she’d never work again.

  Once dressed and her hair pulled back in a sensible bun, she pushed her distress down and pulled her shoulders back. “Jenny, I’ll be on the servants’ level if my sister should need me. I have a long list of things to do before luncheon.”

  “Can I help you with anything, miss?” Jenny’s offer was genuine and kind.

  Sylvia hugged her. “You’ve done more than enough. It’s been wonderful to have you take care of me these last few weeks. However, you are Serena’s maid, not mine. A girl like me can’t afford to become spoiled when I’ll be back in service without a lady’s maid by the week’s end.”

  It was the proper thing to think, if only she could remember her place and be happy with her choices. She hustled down two levels.

  Wildflowers filled the kitchen table, and the heavenly scent mixed with yeasty bread and biscuits filled all of Sylvia’s senses to overflowing. “This is wonderful.”

  Yellow, white, lavender, and green, all in full bloom and various sizes. Mrs. Long had two maids helping her cut stems to six inches and place the flowers in groups by type. “Isn’t it lovely, miss? The last earl didn’t care for the wildflowers of the area. Rest his soul, but he only liked hothouse flowers. None of these happy blossoms ever came in the house unless his mother visited. The dowager loves flowers in every room and particularly these yellow daisies in her room. I hope we shall see her again. Some say she’s stern, but she was always kind to the staff.”

  Sylvia plucked a daisy from the table and ran the soft petals under her nose. “I think his lordship will have his aunt to visit. They seem quite close.”

  Cook was a tiny woman with wispy blond hair that poked out from the edge of her cap. “It would be nice to see her ladyship again. She rarely visited when her son was here. He preferred the Devonshire country house with all its grandeur. Riverdale was too plain for his taste. A good master, but not here much at all.”

  “Perhaps it will be different with his lordship. He seems taken with this house.” Mrs. Long put the last flower in its place.

  Sylvia could stay among the flowers for the entire day and not be a bit sorry. “What shall we arrange them in?”

  “We have vases.” Mrs. Long shooed the maids in the direction of a cupboard in the room across the hall.

  They returned with two trays filled with small vases of various shapes and colors. Blue, pink, and cream porcelain, all painted with birds and flowers.

  “How lovely.” Sylvia took a cream oval-shaped vase. She accepted the pitcher of water from Mrs. Long and filled the vase halfway before placing flowers in it. The white and yellow made for a fresh bouquet, but the bits of lavender were charming.

  “Oh, miss, you are good at this.” Mrs. Long clutched her hands together under her chin. “I shall try to imitate your work.”

  In a short time, all the vases were filled, and springtime had invaded the kitchen. It was perfection. The flowers at Everton House were beautiful, and each day fresh flowers were put on tables. Still, they weren’t as vibrant as these picked here at Riverdale. She could be happy arranging flowers in the morning.

  She shook off the notion. Getting lost in such thoughts wasn’t good for her, yet she couldn’t seem to help it.

  “This is a lovely sight,” Anthony said from the bottom of the kitchen stairs.

  All four servants stiffened, and Mrs. Long cleared her throat. “My lord, can I help you with something?”

  He shook his head. “I wanted a word with Miss Dowder.”

  Holding her breath, Sylvia swallowed her jumble of emotions. “Thank you, ladies. The flowers look stunning. Can you see that they are placed in the guests’ rooms?”

  “Of course, miss,” Mrs. Long said with a quick curtsy.

  Sylvia proceeded Anthony up the stairs. At the top, she waited until he was beside her. “What can I do for you, my lord?”

  “Tony.”

  “We are not alone.” She had to put some distance between them before she lost herself in those eyes.

  Glancing around, he huffed. “I don’t see anyone.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Capturing her gaze with his, he said, “Unfortunately, I know exactly what you mean, Sylvie.”

  “What is it you need, my lord?”

  “My sister and her husband have arrived. I want you to come to the small parlor and say hello. Sophia, in particular, was eager to see you again.”

  “I would be pleased to see them.” Sylvia strode down the hall to the parlor. Riverdale had two parlors, and this one was only called small because the other was so grand. The room had light blue and wood walls. The wood had been kept light and clean, and the ceiling was painted a lighter blue.

  Lord and Lady Marlton sat in one of three groupings of chairs. They faced the side garden where Cook had vegetables and herbs growing hip tall.

  Lord Marlton stood. “Miss Dowder, how wonderful to see you again.”

  “My lord, the pleasure is mine.” She curtsied.

  His frown was daunting. “The first thing we must do is get you to stop calling me my lord and start calling me Daniel.”

  Her cheeks were on fire. “I will try, my—I mean, Daniel.”

  Sophia’s smile showed lovely white teeth against her warm skin tone. “Sylvia, you’ve done a wonderful job making my brother seem like a real earl.”

  It was a sisterly jibe, but Anthony bristled. “I am a real earl.”

  “Of course, you are, but to have the rest of London agree that an American can be a real earl is quite a feat. Yet, your Everton lady managed it beautifully. The ball was such a success, they are still gossiping about it in town.”

  Sylvia wanted to jump for joy. However, she forced herself to only smile politely. “I’m so pleased it all worked out. Of course, I had a lot of help from the Everton Domestic Society and the servants. It was my pleasure to be a part of his lordship finding a proper place amongst his peers.”

  Daniel offered his arm to escort Sylvia to where they had been sitting. Once she took it, he said, “You will have to learn that we are a very informal bunch when not in public, Sylvia. I can’t have you calling me Daniel and Tony his lordship. I shall feel awkward. Can we make a pact that within our group, Christian names are a habit?”

  “You are very kind, Daniel, but by the end of this party I shall exit this group and likely only see you in public, then only briefly.” Part of her died and the rest wanted to follow when the truth blurted from her lips.

  He handed her into a yellow, embroidered, overstuffed chair and sat on the divan next to his wife. “I have a suspicion we shall meet more often than you think.”

  Before Sylvia could ask him what he’d meant, Sophia cleared her throat. “What fun things have you planned for us this week?”

  “I thought since everyone will arrive today and be a bit tired, we might just play cards after dinner tonight. Tomorrow we can tour the gardens, and in the evening my sister has agreed to play for us. She is quite talented.”

  Sophia raised her eyebrows. “And perhaps Lord Stansfield might be delighted by her talents as well.”

  There was little sense being coy. “I had hoped as much.”

  “I have met him several times, and while he is a tad reticent, when he does speak, he is intelligent and thoughtful. A good match for a sweet lady like Serena.” Sophia spoke as directly as her brother, and her American accent made it sound like fact rather than the subterfuge often laced in English conversation.

  “Thank you, Sophia. I would very much like to see my sister happy.”

  Daniel’s brows drew down in a frown. “And what of you, Sylvia. Are you happy as an Everton lady?”

  It was impertinent for him to ask. Perhaps being married to an American caused his forthrightness. Sylvia hated the question and lied. “Of course. I come and go as I please. I have my own money. I
am bound only by the rules of the Everton Companion, and those are easy enough to follow.” That lie might have gone too far.

  Sophia sat forward. “Daniel doesn’t mean to be rude. It is only that when we were all together at the ball, your mother…well, she made us all quite angry with her dismissal of you in favor of Serena.” She held up her hand to stop Sylvia from interrupting. “We adore Serena and she should have all good things and be happy in whatever life she chooses, but so should you. Your mother is a good woman, but she did not show herself well that night, and we have been concerned for you ever since.”

  It was perhaps the sweetest thing anyone had said to her in over a year. Here she thought no one cared what happened to on-the-shelf Sylvia, and there was an entire family, not her own, who were worried. “Mother has been through a lot because of the termination of my engagement to Lord March. She does not know how to fix the problem, and since I have made choices that she disapproves of, it has made it even harder on her. On that particular night, Lord March intimated to my mother that he might be interested in rekindling our romantic attachment.”

  “The nerve!” Sophia fisted her hands, and her nostrils flared.

  A low growl sounded from behind Sylvia. She turned and saw the lion awaken in Anthony’s eyes. It could be a very safe net to have these two Braighton siblings on one’s side.

  Daniel took hold of one of Sophia’s hands and pried her fingers open. “You’ll have to forgive them. Once they like someone as they like you, they are very protective. March does deserve a sound thrashing. Please finish what you were saying.”

  Caught between delight and terror, Sylvia took a moment to remember what she’d been saying. “Um, I told Mother I would never entertain any offer from Lord March, and she was extremely put out. She wants me to be married.”

  “But not happy?” Sophia asked.

  Sylvia sighed. “Happiness is a luxury that a twenty-four-year-old, untitled lady can little afford, in Mother’s opinion. Frankly, it is the opinion of most of society. Only the Society gives me another option. To her, it would be a miraculous recovery if Hunter and I married as planned. Right now, she feels as if she’s wasted over five years on me that might have been spent finding Serena a husband. From her prospective, I am a complete disappointment and Serena the only glimmer of hope that she hasn’t completely failed as a mother.”