The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife (43 page)

She was just nearing
the first floor landing when there was another knock at the door.
Another visitor, already!
Who
now?
In Evesham, she’d been able to avoid much of the
ritual of morning visits. She’d long considered the custom of
morning calls a wearisome business and much overrated. She’d
preferred to let her mother and sisters do most of the entertaining,
since they appeared to enjoy it. And in recent years, when they were
gone, thankfully few people bothered to visit. She flew up the second
flight of stairs to her bedroom to catch a few moments respite and
never heard Grandma Lawton greet Joseph at the door.

“Good afternoon,
young man. What is your name?” Lady Lawton moved forward
forcefully, almost bowling the boy over.

“Joseph, ma’am.”

“Good day. You can
tell your mistress that her grandmother is here.” Not waiting for
his reply, she proceeded to march right past him. “There must be a
library in this house?” She threw the query over her shoulder, but
continued walking.

“Yes, ma’am.” He
pointed toward the end of the hall, then he seemed to recall
something and came running behind her. “Buuuut ma’am!”

She turned and sent a
smile back at him, still forging ahead along the hallway. “I
imagine it’s this way?”

“Yes, ma’am, but…”

She wasn’t interested
in his buts. “Everyone knows that if you want to have a good talk,
you won’t find it in a room with other callers,” she explained.

“But ma’am, you
can’t...” he cried, running to keep up with her brisk pace.

“The library is more
conducive to a private chitchat,” she told him, ignoring his
protests and continuing to stride toward the door he had indicated.
“There, one is rarely interrupted by tiresome visitors.”

Lady Lawton paused for
a moment to look down at the boy. The poor child looked frightened,
as though allowing her beyond the drawing room was a crime. Surely he
wasn’t afraid of being chastised for it! And what was a child doing
answering the door? He was far too young to be doing a footman’s
job.

Where
on earth was Foster?

She tried to reassure
him. “As I said, I’m Miss Talia’s grandmother. She won’t be
angry with you for showing me to the library.”

Gazing into his fearful
eyes, she hoped she was right. Something or someone had badly upset
the child. She’d be astonished if Talia was the one. Her grandchild
had been taking in every stray animal since she was able to walk. It
was inconceivable she could be cruel to anyone.

There was, however,
something odd going on with her. She was hiding something, of that
Lady Lawton was certain. That was why she was determined to meet her
in the library where they could have some privacy. She wanted to find
out exactly what the girl was up to. Coming to London, renting a
house on her own, and not informing anyone... Imagine! The girl had
always been too independent but there was something not quite right
about this business.

The boy pushed past her
to stand in front of the closed door. At first, she thought he was
going to block her way then he seemed to reconsider and, opening it,
he stepped aside and said, “Here you are, my lady.” He stood
there awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other. “I’ll go get
Mr. Foster.”

She hesitated a moment.
Was she apt to find out more from Foster alone? Probably not. He was
unswervingly loyal to Talia. “No, no, dear. No need to bother
Foster.”

“But I must ma’am.
I’m not supposed to let anyone past the front door, so I have to
tell him about you.” He began to move off, then turned and said,
“Would you like some tea, ma’am?” The boy looked pleased with
himself for remembering to ask. Trust her kind-hearted grandchild to
hire an untrained, much too young child.

“No, thank you,
Joseph, you said your name was? While you go tell Foster that I’m
here, I’ll be perfectly happy just looking at the books in here.
There seem to be an awful lot of them.” She waved the boy away and
wandered in to begin perusing the titles on the shelves along the
wall immediately to her left.

A throat clearing had
her spinning around in surprise.

“Young man! You
scared the wits out of me! You should know better than to skulk about
like that. It’s enough to give an old lady palpitations.”

Reed forbore to point
out that, until he stood politely when she entered the room, he’d
been sitting comfortably in an armchair for the past half-hour or so.
Not exactly skulking.

“Well, what do you
have to say for yourself?”

The elderly lady
advanced on him in an aggressive manner. Who was she? And who had let
her in? What was she doing in the library and not the drawing room?
He hoped Tally didn’t delay coming to greet her newest visitor.

He’d heard the
earlier visitors arrive and had remained close by in case she needed
his help. He didn’t trust that Dubuc. He was the man who had been
pouring on the charm last night, when Reed had looked in the window.

The lady was waiting
for him to do or say something. So he executed a small bow and said,
“Reed Leighton, at your service.” He’d almost said “Reed
Gordon Eames”, now that he was fairly certain it was his true name.
But until he understood more about his present circumstances, he
deemed it best to bide his time.

Her eyes fair goggled
at his introduction. She looked astonished.

He shifted uneasily.
Did she know him?
He
didn’t feel like explaining his affliction to a stranger — a
belligerent-looking stranger at that, so he maintained his silence.

“Indeed?” She
seemed at a loss for words.

A happy circumstance,
in his opinion. “And you are?” He was all set to let her have
some of her own inquisitive behavior back, but she rudely interrupted
him.

“And what are you
doing here?” Having found her voice, she wasted no time in
launching another salvo.

“I believe it is
customary for a visitor to offer her name in return.” Good lord!
Where had that come from? He must be a brave fellow when he had a
memory!

He thought he saw the
beginnings of a smile, but couldn’t be certain.

“I am Lady Lawton.”

She muttered something
that might have been “as if you didn’t know”, but it was too
low for him to be sure. He sensed she was watching him carefully for
a reaction. What an eagle-eyed, sharp-tongued old biddy!

He hoped his wife
arrived soon to rescue him.

“Pleased to meet
you.” He hadn’t a clue who she was, but he had the feeling she
knew exactly who he was. He watched her carefully for any
recognition. He found himself hoping she would tell him, and, at the
same time, that she wouldn’t. He was suddenly afraid of what she
might reveal. Given that he wasn’t using his own name, he worried
he was involved in criminal activity. If that were the case, he
imagined it must be clandestine, and he certainly didn’t want
anyone friendly with his family to know about it.

He paused to give her
an opening to say something, but she kept quiet, which appeared to
surprise her. She didn’t look like a woman accustomed to remaining
silent.

His head began to ache
from the strain of meeting someone who, he felt sure, knew him. If
he’d been ostracized by his family, did he want this lady telling
him about it? He shook out his arms a bit at his sides, trying to
loosen the tension around his neck and shoulders. He wished he could
have avoided this. But it was already too late to hide from her, so
he had to brazen it out.

“I heard you refuse
tea. Perhaps you would prefer a sherry or brandy?” When all else
fails, resort to time-honored, civilized manners!

“A little brandy
might help with the shock,” she agreed.

What
shock?
But he was damned if he was going to ask. He
crossed to the Hepplewhite side cabinet, where he’d put the liquor
he’d asked Mason to buy for him. He’d been taken aback to find no
alcoholic beverages in the house. What did his wife think they were
going to serve to their male visitors? He poured generous measures
into two glasses. He could use the restorative as well.

They were tiptoeing
around each other warily. He handed her a glass and gestured to an
armchair “Shall we?”

Now that he was able to
take a good look at her, he noticed something familiar about her face
or was it the expression? He groaned inwardly. She must be related to
Tally. The resemblance was faint but there, nevertheless.

Damn it. Tally wasn’t
going to be happy. He’d just ruined her plan to keep their marriage
hushed.

Faced with this elderly
lady’s inimical stare, he struggled to find an opening to make
normal conversation, but found himself curiously tongue-tied. The
idea that she might know who he was, and be wondering why he hadn’t
recognized her or was purposely not acknowledging her, was upsetting.

“Now that we’ve
dispensed with the formalities, I will ask you again, what are you
doing here?”

She certainly was
blunt. No shilly-shallying around the point. Should he tell her the
truth?

“Since I was here
first, surely that should be my question.”

“You live here?”
Her voice rose in disbelief.

He saw no way around
that, other than lying, and he didn’t want to do that. “Yes,
we’ve leased it for the Season.”

“We?”

Nosy old battleaxe! Why
should he answer her rude questions? Really, he didn’t even know
who she was.

Lady Lawton, she’d
said. Lawton? Was she related to that artist, Wendal Lawton? The one
whose work they’d just viewed at the Royal Academy? Why hadn’t
Tally mentioned she was related to the artist? Because he was quite
certain this woman was her relative. It would certainly explain his
wife’s own amazing artistic talent!

That decided him. He
was going to take an evasive tack in this… interrogation. Answering
her earlier question, he said. “I’m searching for information
about…”
Should he? Ah hell,
why not?
… “my family.”

“What do you want to
know?” She sounded prepared to tell him.

“Who they are,” he
said tentatively, wanting to see what she might say about the Eames
family. All he really knew was their names and what Debrett’s said.
He had no idea what kind of people they were.

“You need only
ask...”

“Grandma Lawton!”

He’d qualify Tally’s
tone as exuberant shock.

The older woman jumped
visibly. Guilt was writ all over her face.

“What are you doing
in the library?” She looked and sounded horrified to see the two of
them together.

So... the old lady was
his wife’s grandmother. Their secret was well and truly out of the
bag now. He cast a sheepish look at Tally as he rose to greet her,
but she ignored him completely. A bad habit he deeply disliked.

She addressed her
grandparent, “I see you’ve met Mr. Leighton.”

“It appears I have.”
The elder woman’s tone and face were enigmatic, though her eyes
darted between the two of them inquisitively.

“Come, let’s go to
the drawing room and leave Mr. Leighton to his reading.”

How
formal she was being!
He expected Lady Lawton to object.
She seemed on the verge of doing so. He might have enjoyed watching
his wife and her grandmother battle it out, but suddenly, he felt all
of his vitality deflate like a pricked balloon.

Perhaps the doctor was
right. Maybe he should allow his memory to return in its own time and
manner. Already many recollections were returning, especially since
that attack in the lane. It was surely only a question of time before
everything came back.

He took the initiative
out of their hands. “I was just leaving, so I’ll bid you adieu,
ladies, and leave you to your tea.”

He was surprised not to
be summoned back. He even heard Tally’s grandmother begin, “Oh
but…”

Pretending not to hear,
he made good his escape. He wasn’t a coward, but he sensed having a
conversation with his wife’s grandparent right now could set back
his recovery immeasurably.

* * *

Utter shock kept Lady
Lawton silent.
What is that
rascal doing living in the same house as my granddaughter?

She followed Talia into
the drawing room. She was so preoccupied, she barely noticed how
nicely appointed it was. She sat on the sofa, expecting her
grandchild to join her, but she excused herself for a moment saying
she was going to help Joseph with the tea. A pretext, of course. No
doubt she was warning that rogue not to show his face in here. Mr.
Leighton, indeed! His name was Reed Gordon Eames, Viscount Selwich!

Flabbergasted was a
mild word for how Eva Lawton was feeling.

Selwich was her best
friend’s grandson. She hadn’t known he was back. He’d been
living abroad for years. Daphne must be overjoyed that he was finally
home. But why hadn’t she mentioned it yesterday when Eva visited
her?

There was more to this
than met the eye and she meant to get to the bottom of it.

Selwich had been a bit
of a rake before he left England’s shores, and she would never have
allowed him anywhere near her granddaughter then. But Daphne insisted
he’d reformed and was doing very well for himself since he’d
moved to foreign parts.

Eva smiled to herself.
If he had indeed changed, she’d be well pleased were he and Talia
to get together. A fine match, indeed, for her grandchild.

But surely she had
misunderstood. He couldn’t be living here! He knew better. If it
became known they were living under the same roof, life for Talia
would never be the same. She may claim she wanted to shun the
Season’s events, but she had no idea how hard Society was on those
who flouted their rules. No matter where she went, cruel remarks and
shame would always follow her.