Page 22 of The Baroness of Sin
He reluctantly pulled them apart and led her to the stairs but stopped before moving up them, not wanting to get caught so close to the manse.
“I wish you a wonderful night, Martha,” he told her and trailed his touch down her arm to gently squeeze her hand. She wouldn't let go; instead, she held him there.
“A moment,” she said, “I do have a small confession. It was against my will, but my brother heard a rumor that I may be courting since my mourning period has ended. He has arranged for me to have lunch with a gentleman.”
“Ah,” he said and thought briefly but seemed unbothered. “We must sometimes do things in accordance with our station. You wish to continue our arrangement all the same?”
“I do,” she nodded with a smile.
“I’m glad. Then I won’t be deterred if you must meet with the occasional gentleman to appease your family.” He gave her hand another reassuring squeeze.
Neither of them gave much thought to the amount of commitment they had made to their non-commitment and were happy to not dwell on this minor detail.
Martha watched Lord Barristen sink into the darkness of the garden, but before he could disappear completely, he stopped and turned back to face her.
“Out of curiosity, who is the gentleman that you will be having lunch with?” he asked, and she sensed only genuine curiosity, no malice or suspicion.
“The Earl of Wyldwen, I believe. I must admit I had not heard of the gentleman before my brother told me of him.”
She heard a series of small snickers from the darkness. James was laughing.
“What? What is so funny?”
“Nothing, My Lady, nothing. I am simply familiar with the lord in question. You are in for a very interesting lunch; I can assure you that much. Have a good night.”
And with the fading of soft footsteps, Martha was left in the dark garden with her fading lamp, the night chill where a warm body had been moments before, and her thoughts.
James' comment had piqued her curiosity, to be certain, and it dwelled on her mind as she made her way back to her room. Her body, however, was extremely content in the memory of the strong warm body that surrounded her only moments before, and she fell back asleep as soon as she lay back down.
She slept very well that night.
Chapter Sixteen
“Viscount Richard Toddle of Wyldwen,” the footman at the door announced with the arrival of Martha’s gentleman caller. Of course, his arrival had been known for more than a quarter-hour now, but such were the steps that must be taken when a lady was meeting a gentleman for the first time in her own home.
Martha was standing as Lord Wyldwen entered and bowed. It was the first time she saw the gentleman, and she was not unimpressed but not impressed either. He was of average build with dark hair and an innocent look in his eyes. He wasn’t younger than her, but he had this air about him that carried a vague sense of youth, and she couldn’t quite place why.
“My Lord,” she said as she swept the skirt towards her ankles and dipped her head, “I am Lady Martha Worter, Baroness of Carrington.”
“A pleasure to meet you, My Lady,” Lord Wyldwen said as he hesitantly crossed the atrium where they were taking their light lunch.
“Likewise, My Lord.” Martha gave him a light smile. “I must admit, I am surprised that this is the first time we are meeting. Even though I resided away from London for most of my marriage, I still thought I had a fair knowledge of high society and its members.”
“Ah, well,” he flushed and frowned slightly, “that makes a lot of sense. I am assuming your brother did not inform you of my, um, unique circumstances in that regard. That makes sense, he would consider it impolite to do that. He would probably be right.”
Lord Wyldwen punctuated his last sentence with a shrug, and it was then that Martha figured out where the air of youth came from. His movements lacked minute grace and held an awkwardness that most gentlemen had weaned out of them when they were still young. How strange.
“I don’t want to pry,” Martha assured him, though she was desperately curious.
“Best to get it out of the way, for I am sure it will become overtly obvious rather quickly,” he sighed. “Rest assured my reluctance doesn’t come from having to tell you the story, My Lady. It is simply a story I have told many times the last few months, and I tire of its repetition.”
Martha was surprised at the directness and honesty of the statement, and it also reinforced her assessment that this gentleman was unfamiliar with the ton. As much as she admired the directness, she knew how inappropriate it was. She was going to assure him again, but he pressed on, undeterred.
“You see, the title of Count of Wyldwen was held by one of my cousins, and last Christmas they decided to host a wedding at Wyldwen manor. They invited much of the whole family. I, however, am a few steps removed from them though still related by blood. My great grandmother married into the family by some means, and I have been sort of tucked away in an apartment in London. Black sheep and all that.”
“Now I am sure you were more important than that,” Martha said with a polite smile.
“No, I wasn’t, but I appreciate your effort at kindness, My Lady. The thing is, they had special seating arranged just for the family on the balcony. The balcony, however, was not as well kept as they liked to believe, and the weight of the entire family caused it to collapse…” Lord Wyrdwen clucked his tongue, “Seems I was the only family member left to take the title.”
