Chapter Nine

H enry had not slept and had risen at the crack of dawn, frustrated with the hours he had spent in bed without any rest. He felt like a cad. Miss Shepherd was a vulnerable young woman, someone with no family or friends to look out for her welfare, and he had taken advantage of her. He’d allowed himself to act on the desire he felt for her when he should have suppressed it.

He thought of the kiss, the sweet taste of her lips and the way her body had felt pressed against his, and for a moment he was back in the dark corridor in the opera house. It had been a dangerous situation and, what was worse, he knew if they had not been interrupted by the door opening he would have gone further. They had both been so caught up in the moment and their attraction for one another, who knew where it would have stopped.

He needed to make things right, on two fronts. Firstly, he would focus his efforts on narrowing down the selection for a suitable wife. She needed to be wealthy and from a good family, someone who would satisfy his father as well as be tolerable to live with. He didn’t trust his own judgement after his awful marriage to Anne, but he was willing to put aside his reservations for the sake of mending the rift that had separated him from his sister.

The second thing he needed to do was make things right with Miss Shepherd. He was thankful she was a highly practical young woman, who had not even hinted that his impropriety should lead to a proposal. In truth he should offer to marry her. He had compromised her, kissed her in public, and it was only through sheer luck that no one had seen.

He shuddered at the thought. Miss Shepherd was a pleasant young woman who he felt an undeniable attraction to, but his previous marriage had taught him there could not be happiness when two people of vastly different social classes married. The gulf between them was too big, the obstacles impossible to overcome.

What he could do was apologise again and then help her find her sister. He knew all would be forgiven and forgotten if he could reunite Miss Shepherd with her errant sibling.

That was why he was standing outside Miss Shepherd’s lodging house at three o’clock in the afternoon, steeling himself to approach.

He knocked on the front door and waited, hearing shuffling footsteps inside. An elderly woman opened the door and inspected him from head to toe, softening only slightly as she took in his well-tailored jacket and smart appearance.

‘No gentleman visitors allowed inside,’ she said, starting to close the door on him.

‘I am calling for Miss Shepherd, I am due to meet her this afternoon.’

‘Not in here.’

‘I am happy to step out with her, but please could you let her know I am here.’

The old woman muttered something under her breath and closed the door. Henry listened carefully but couldn’t hear anything through the thick wood. He had no way of knowing if she was going to alert Miss Shepherd to his presence at all.

He waited five minutes, then ten, arms crossed and foot tapping on the stone of the steps. He was just about to contemplate if there was another way to get a message to Miss Shepherd when the door opened and she slipped out, closing it firmly behind her.

‘Mrs Angel is not happy. Her one rule is no gentleman visitors.’

‘I hardly barged into the lodging house.’

‘She thinks by darkening her doorstep you bring her house into disrepute.’

Henry saw that Miss Shepherd looked tired and drawn. He wondered if it was from a night tossing and turning, thinking about their kiss the evening before, or if it was from worry about her sister.

‘What do you want, Lord Routledge?’

‘I know where Mr Peterson is going to be this afternoon.’

Miss Shepherd stilled, every part of her frozen, as if she were a perfectly carved statue in a museum.

‘Do you think he will talk to me?’

‘There is only one way to find out.’

Miss Shepherd bit her lip, no doubt weighing up her desire to talk to Mr Peterson about her sister—and also perhaps about the identity of her father—against her better judgement not to spend time with him.

‘Where will he be?’

‘Mr Peterson is a gambler. He plays cards, but his vice of choice is betting on boxing matches, and I have it on good authority that he will be attending a boxing match south of the river later this afternoon.’

She chewed her lip more, her eyes downcast but darting around. He watched, mesmerised as her tongue darted out, and for a second all he could think about was kissing her again.

‘I could go alone,’ she said, but sounded unconvinced.

‘It would not be safe for a young lady to attend alone.’

‘Perhaps you know where Mr Peterson may be this evening, or tomorrow?’

‘No. I had to work hard just to find his location this afternoon. He may even be leaving London soon for his house in the country.’

Miss Shepherd groaned and then gave a little nod. ‘Very well. It is of the utmost importance I speak to Mr Peterson.

‘Do you have everything you need?’

She shook her head and disappeared inside for a few minutes.

It was another warm afternoon, but the sky was overcast and grey, and the sun had been struggling to break through all day. It meant the air felt humid and sticky, as if another storm were needed to cool things down.

Perhaps due to the heat they walked slowly. It was a fair distance through the streets of London to the river, and then they had to cross to the other side. Henry had visited Southwark on a few occasions, but he did not regularly frequent the less salubrious neighbourhoods. He had felt a prickle of anxiety about taking Miss Shepherd there, but he had meant what he said earlier when he’d explained it might be their only chance of seeing Mr Peterson. With the warm weather looking set to continue, many of those who had stayed in London these last few weeks were finally quitting the capital for their cooler country estates.

They walked in silence for a while but, as they did, Henry sensed some of the tension Miss Shepherd had been holding ebbing away. As they approached the river he spoke softly. ‘I am sorry about last night. My behaviour was unforgiveable.’

‘We do not need to talk about it.’

‘Will you let me say what I need to say, and then we can agree never to mention it again?’

She hesitated for a moment, glancing up at him with a hint of sadness in her eyes, and then nodded.

‘I am sorry I kissed you. I know what a horrible position it puts you in, and also the possibility of a scandal would hurt you immeasurably. I would like to tell you I am not normally that reckless, which is the truth, but losing control is unforgiveable.’ He took a deep breath, needing to acknowledge more. He did not want her thinking she didn’t deserve his full consideration. ‘I compromised you, Miss Shepherd, and I am well aware I should be making arrangements for our union, of taking your hand and proposing.’

She looked at him sharply and he hurried on.

‘I like you and I respect you, but I cannot marry you.’

‘I have not asked you to,’ she said, an edge of anger in her voice.

‘I know. You are too unassuming and kind to think of it, but if I were a true gentleman I would be proposing to you.’

‘I understand you do not want someone like me as a wife.’

He paused, wondering what to say. In many ways she was right. He had resigned himself to marrying again, but only to mend the rift that had come about from his choice of first wife. It would do nothing to mollify his father, or secure him a position back in his sister’s life, if he rushed into marriage with someone not from the aristocracy. What was more, he didn’t actually want a wife. He had thought himself in love once, and had been willing to give up everything he is for his wife, but it had been a total disaster of a marriage.

‘I do not want a wife,’ he said, deciding honesty was the only way he would have a chance of making Miss Shepherd understand.

‘Yet you are scouring London for one.’ She sighed and waved a hand. ‘I do not want a proposal, my lord.’ He thought of the night before, when she had called him by his given name, and for one mad moment he almost asked her to do so again. Quickly he caught himself.

‘Will you sit with me a moment?’ he asked, indicating one of the benches that lined the north bank of the river.

‘Should we not make haste?’

‘Mr Peterson will linger the whole afternoon if the rumours are to be believed.’

She perched on the edge of the bench, looking out over the river. Her face was pale, but she had two spots of colour on her cheeks.

‘Would you indulge me whilst I told you about my wife, my first wife?’

‘You do not need to...’

‘I would like to.’

She inclined her head, waiting for him to speak. Henry tried to summon the words, his throat instantly dry, his tongue thick and heavy.

‘I met Anne one cold winter’s evening when I was walking home from a dinner party. It had been filled with beautiful, wealthy people, talking loudly and eating to excess.’

‘I sense that irritated you,’ Miss Shepherd said quietly, with a hint of a smile.

‘It did. It didn’t help that my father was also present, and pressing me to propose to one of the eligible young ladies.’

‘Much like he is now.’

‘Indeed. I was walking home and I saw a young woman slip on some ice. She fell into the road and a carriage came trundling round the corner. I do not think the coachman saw her and she was winded from the fall, unable to move.’ He closed his eyes for a moment, that night still so vivid in his mind. ‘I ran forward and pulled her from the road just in time, and we collapsed onto the pavement together.’

‘The woman who became your wife?’

‘Yes, it was Anne. She was in shock, so I walked her home and ensured she was safe before leaving, then the next day I returned to check she had recovered.’ He paused, finding it hard to explain quite how he had fallen in love. ‘We went for a walk together, in the park, and talked. It was refreshing to speak to someone about the real world, and their hopes and dreams, instead of discussing the price of silk and who was the best artist to commission for a new portrait. We talked for hours, and when I walked her home I asked if I could see her again.’

‘She must have been a very special young woman,’ Miss Shepherd said, and Henry thought he heard a hint of sadness in her voice, but when he looked up she was smiling at him softly.

‘I became infatuated. I was only young, but already disillusioned with the world I had been born into, frustrated by the path my life had to follow. I wanted to make my own way in the world, but at every turn there was my father, trying to dictate how I should live my life.’ He shook his head. ‘I realise I sound like a spoilt child, and in many ways I was. I didn’t appreciate the privileged upbringing I had. All I could think of was rebelling against it.’

‘Wealth is not the only thing that makes for a happy childhood.’

‘Indeed. I was infatuated with Anne and I thought she felt the same. I proposed to her within a few weeks of meeting her and she accepted. My father was furious, of course. He told me he would cut me off entirely if I went through with the wedding. I had a little income from the property I’d renovated, and over time I invested it and bought another, but we had to live a modest life. Even my friends were wary—they tried to warn me how difficult our union would be, that we would be shunned by society, and I would not be able to lead the same life as all my peers.’

‘And yet, you went ahead anyway.’

‘I thought all that wasn’t important, not when the alternative was losing my true love.’

Miss Shepherd was looking at him with interest now, invested in his story. It wasn’t one he told often. Of course, his close friends knew most of what had occurred, but there were some parts he still felt too ashamed to discuss.

‘We were married in a small ceremony with just a couple of witnesses.’ He shook his head at the memory, unable to believe he had been so na?ve. ‘I thought it was the start of the rest of our lives together.’

‘It wasn’t?’

He grimaced. ‘I had explained to Anne that my father would cut us off, that we would have to live on a small income, in a modest fashion, but I don’t think she really believed me. She did not know my father, and thought once he had got over his initial anger and disappointment he would come round.’

‘She knew she was marrying a Viscount, so she did not believe you truly could be poor?’ Miss Shepherd ventured.

‘I think she had visions of grand balls and spending her days shopping for fine silks. The reality was vastly different. As I had been warned, everyone except a few close friends from my world shunned her, and she was too ashamed to go back to the people she had grown up with, the people she had told she was escaping for a better life.’ He’d hated how sad she had always looked, how miserable, after being told there were no invitations for her, no social events she would get to go to. ‘I was prepared to leave my old life behind, but I think she did not realise it would be as difficult as it was. She was miserable.’

He sighed and slumped back against the bench. It was improper posture for a gentleman out and about, but right now he could not bring himself to care.

‘I found out a few years later, during a terrible argument, that Anne had been engaged to another man, before we met. A butcher’s assistant. I never knew about him, never knew they were due to be married, never knew she had chosen a life with me over marrying the man she loved.’

‘She didn’t love you?’

‘No,’ Henry said, still feeling the pain of the realisation cut through him. He had thought they were united in their love, a single entity bound together to face the challenges of whatever life had thrown at them. In reality, Anne had seen his infatuation with her and thought she had the opportunity for a better life as a Viscountess. When she had realised he was telling the truth, and had very little by way of income, she had turned bitter. Things may have been better if they had been accepted by society, able to attend events together and get out of the house, which had slowly felt as though it had turned into a prison. ‘She never loved me. And as the months and years went by, she increasingly resented me.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Miss Shepherd said, the warmth back in her eyes. He hadn’t told her this story to gain her sympathy, but he wanted her to understand why he could not marry her, not under any circumstance.

‘There is more. Anne fell pregnant a few years into the marriage but lost the baby a few of months before she was due. We were both devastated, but I think it was the final insult to Anne’s poor mind.’

Miss Shepherd grew still, as if sensing the tragedy he was about to tell her.

‘At the time we lived in a set of rooms in the lodging house I owned. I had painstakingly renovated it and we’d moved in a year or so earlier. It was comfortable, with our own entrance. Three other families lived in the rest of the building.’ He swallowed, thinking of how he had been out just walking around, not wanting to return to the oppressive atmosphere of his own home. ‘I had been out and I was walking home when I heard shouts of fire. I think I knew immediately what had happened.’

‘It was your house?’

‘Yes. The blaze had taken hold and the neighbours had started a water chain to try to stop it from spreading to nearby buildings. There was no hope for our house though. The fire burned for two hours before it could be put out completely. Thankfully the families who lived upstairs were all either out or had managed to escape, but Anne...’

‘She died in the fire?’

‘Yes. The inquest recorded a verdict of accidental death, but I have my doubts that it was an accident. Anne was in extremely bad spirits, and no matter what I tried she pushed me away. That day I actually thought she was a little better. She had talked of maybe taking a trip somewhere together. Now I see it was because her mind was made up and she had a plan to resolve her situation. She was at peace.’

Miss Shepherd reached out and took his hand, gently laying her fingers over the top of his. It was a small movement, one that no one passing by would notice, but he was grateful for it. In the months after Anne’s death he had sunk into a deep melancholy, alternatively blaming himself for the tragedy and hating the anger he felt towards his late wife.

‘You lost your wife and your home all in one moment.’

He inclined his head. In the aftermath of the fire he had been scooped up by Lord Shrewsbury, taken first to his London home, and then, when all the formalities requiring Henry’s presence in London were completed, to one of his country estates. Shrewsbury was a true friend, and he and his wife were still so invested in Henry’s happiness.

‘I told myself I would never marry again. It was an unmitigated disaster. I married a woman who I thought loved me, who only wished for the trappings she thought came with the title. We made each other miserable for four years and then she became so overwhelmingly sad she took her own life.’

‘Yet you are searching for a wife again.’

‘For the sake of my sister. When I married Anne my father stopped me from having any contact with Sophia. He said I was a bad influence. I have not seen her for years.’

‘And she has been left in the care of your father,’ Miss Shepherd said, nodding in understanding. He was thankful she was so level-headed. Many young women would not have taken his treatment, his refusal to even contemplate marriage after risking her reputation, without a great fuss. Thankfully, Miss Shepherd was much too practical to hold a grudge.

‘Through friends and mutual acquaintances I have been able to keep an eye on her from a distance, but I have had a lot of time to think these last couple of years. I feel guilty for having abandoned my sister for so long, and wish to find a way to see her again.’

‘Even if it means marrying someone you do not love?’

He gave a short, mirthless laugh. ‘I tried marrying for love, for ignoring the social norms, and look where that got me.’

‘Is there not...’

He shook his head. ‘I know what you are going to suggest, that I look for another way to satisfy my father and gain access to my sister, but I have had years to consider this. There is no other way. If you knew my father, you would see what I mean. He is cruel and unreasonable and does not mind doing anything to maintain the upper hand and get what he wants.’

Miss Shepherd was silent for a moment, studying his face in that serious way of hers. Eventually she nodded. ‘I know our acquaintance has not been a long one, but thank you for telling me.’

He was surprised himself at this need to be unburdened of his story. His closest friends knew the sordid details of his marriage, but no one else was aware of what an awful disaster it had truly been. All the outside world had seen was him marrying a young woman of a lower class, retreating from public social life and then tragically losing his wife in a fire four years later.

‘You are welcome. Now, shall we see if we can find Mr Peterson?’