Chapter 10
W ith all the Lords returned to Town to sit in Parliament once again, what little tranquillity Brooks’s once offered had disappeared. The din of conversation and debates was a constant hum in the drawing rooms during the day. The club only returned to its relative peace when the members departed for Westminster, but it burst back to life when they returned at the end of the day.
Simon had forgotten what a state the club would be in at this time of day, as it had been days since he had visited. His time had been better spent with Hannah at home. Mostly in bed.
And the bath.
And her dressing room.
Oh, and once in the drawing room.
Given the opportunity, Simon had indulged in every fantasy he had conjured up about Hannah over the years, turning each of them into a reality.
He had learned every inch of her, just as she did him. He had spent an entire evening abed, allowing Hannah all the time in the world to explore him and sate her curiosity about the male form. It had been extraordinary torture that he would gladly experience again in a heartbeat.
Particularly as it had only made her more responsive to his explorations of her, learning all the ways to make her gasp, moan and cry out.
And even better, their intimacy had naturally followed them outside the bedchamber, opening up an entirely new aspect to their relationship. Engaging in flirtation and suggestive banter, they revelled in exchanging playful innuendos. The house rang with laughter and merriment now, compelling him to spend all his time with her there.
But today he had finally decided he must leave the house. Although it was only because Caroline had invited Hannah to join her at the modiste , and he had been lonely at the house without her there.
So he had come here to the club, exchanged pleasantries with the gentlemen he knew, evaluated the betting book for any interesting wagers, and then settled in to read the papers.
He had just set down the latest edition of the Morning Post when Rothsay arrived with a few gentlemen in his company, among them Rothsay’s father, the Duke of Vaughan. Now, that was a strange sight.
For most of his life, Rothsay’s relationship with his father had been an antagonistic one, burdened by the expectations of the family title. However, the men had worked hard to strengthen the relationship between them in the last few years. They would never be the best of friends, but they were closer now.
“Langley!” Rothsay greeted, and Simon rose to join his friend and the other gentlemen. “I do not believe you are acquainted with Sir Charles Knightly and Mr. Thomas Spring-Rice. Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Simon Langley.”
“I was just reading about both of you in the Morning Post ,” Simon said as he shook their hands. “You seem to have your hands full with the state of the House of Commons this session.”
“Indeed, it has been quite the fight over the stamp duties,” Mr. Spring-Rice replied with a shake of his head. “Everyone with a vested interest wants certain duties reduced and they all try to drown the others out.”
Simon had only just finished reading the recounting of the demands from various members regarding which duties should be reduced to offer financial relief to the public. As the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Mr. Spring-Rice was in charge of all financial matters of the current government and the review of the duties had been the focus of the Commons since their return from the holiday.
“That is not quite true,” Sir Charles interjected. “I have no financial stake in the matter of soap duties. My support for their reduction is because I believe in advancing the life of everyone. From the poorest to the richest, we all want to be clean.”
“I understand, Sir Charles, but the revenue from soap is quite high. A reduction could result in a shortfall,” Mr. Spring-Rice replied.
“If a shortfall is your concern, then I do not see how reducing the duties on newspapers is the way to go,” Sir Charles said. “The number of newspapers that are sent throughout the country might outnumber the post altogether. Leaving the duties as is would provide ample funds to replace any shortfall from soap.”
“It is not only about the monies,” Vaughan interjected. “I have spoken with several magistrates who report that the spread of unstamped newspapers is prolific across the country. The laws are being flouted with no consequences. It sets a poor precedent if we allow it to continue.”
“Then the magistrates should arrest the criminals,” Sir Charles said.
“They are like weeds. Cut down one and ten more grow in its place,” Rothsay said. “One must dig them out, root and stem. By lowering the stamp duties along with punishing the criminals, it makes it more likely the printers will simply pay for the stamps.”
Simon was impressed that his friend had not only given stamp duties consideration, he had also formed an educated opinion on them.
Not that Rothsay was ignorant. He had always been an intelligent man. It was simply that he had devoted himself to entertainments of the frivolous and lustful variety rather than politics. His friend truly had matured.
“And what say you, Mr. Langley?” Vaughan asked him.
“In all honesty, I would be in favour of removing both duties altogether, Your Grace,” Langley replied. “I feel all people should make use of soap and newspapers, as both good hygiene and knowledge are beneficial to the public. If people are not purchasing such beneficial items, it is because they cannot afford them. I think it would be best to remove the duties on goods that could be of advantage to the poorer among us and raise the duties on those goods used by those who can afford it. I would suggest an increase on private carriages used to travel within the city.”
Sir Charles grinned. “A capital idea, Langley!”
“And a selfish idea. I find traversing the city during the season tedious with all the private carriages that flood the streets. Just today I witnessed an empty landau conveying packages from a shop. To use such a large carriage for something that could have been brought on foot? Ridiculous! They might reconsider such actions if it cost several shillings more to do so.”
“The party could make good use of a gentleman with such ideas, Mr. Langley. Have you considered politics?” Mr. Spring-Rice said.
“Oh, I do not know if I am meant for politics,” Langley said.
“Nonsense,” Sir Charles said. “Anyone who cares about the people, regardless of class, should be in politics.”
“Or it should be that way,” Vaughan said. “Langley, if you should ever want to run for a seat, tell me and I will gladly make the introduction to Melbourne myself.”
Simon was flattered by the invitation, even if it was not the first time he had been approached to run.
Simon had honed his debating skills here at Brooks’s during the controversy of the Great Reform Act years back, catching the attention of a few prominent Whigs. Following the act’s passage, the party approached him to run in one of the newly created boroughs. He had declined, feeling his attention was better served at the time on tending to his recently inherited estate.
Despite his estate being in fine form and now two invitations to run, he was uncertain it would be the right fit for him. He might enjoy discussing politics with others, but what genuine experience did he have?
Although, once upon a time, Rothsay had thought the role of heir to a dukedom was not right for him and now he fit it like a glove.
And then there was their friend Camden, who had lacked any knowledge of the running of an estate but had learned through practical experience and was now managing his own estate quite successfully.
If both of them can attempt something new, who is to say I cannot?
“Thank you, sir. I will take it under consideration,” Simon replied.
“Yes, he must discuss it with his wife first,” Rothsay said with a grin. “As a newlywed, she may not want to sacrifice her husband’s time to politics,”
“My congratulations on your marriage, Langley,” Vaughan said. “Matthew is correct. You must discuss it with your wife first. Any husband who wants to remain happy in his home knows who rules the roost.”
Langley chuckled. “Thank you for the congratulations and the advice, sir.”
Sir Charles and Mr. Spring-Rice offered their congratulations as well, and for the first time, Simon felt he deserved to be congratulated on his marriage.
He and Hannah were happy now.
As the clocks chimed three times to signal the hour, the club came to life as men prepared to depart for today’s session at Westminster. Sir Charles, Mr. Spring-Rice and Rothsay’s father bid good day to Simon and Rothsay, leaving the two friends in the relatively silent upper rooms to settle in and have a drink.
“It is a change to see you in your father’s company, discussing politics, of all things,” Simon said. “When I consider the man I knew only a few years ago, it seems a miracle.”
“A miracle indeed,” Rothsay said with a rueful shake of his head. “I never thought it possible I could become the man my father wanted me to be, yet here I am. I blame it on my children. The moment Georgiana was born, I suddenly felt this obligation towards creating a better future. It only deepened with William’s birth. I want them both to grow up in a good world. It’s not just about passing along to them a title and wealth; I want the world they inherit to be a better world for everyone.”
Simon grinned at his friend. “When I write Camden about such a beautiful speech, he is certain to come to Town immediately to ensure a sickness has not taken you.”
“Nonsense. My transformation is nothing compared to Camden’s. I admit I thought his interest in the mill would eventually wan and we would have to depend on his steward to ensure the project was complete. Yet Camden’s near daily reports on the progress tell me he will see it through to the end.”
Yes, their friend, who once cared about nothing but his newest mistress, was supremely dedicated to completing the textile mill at Lockwood Priory. His dedication to the project was only rivalled by his dedication to Lady Camden. Mentions of his wife, which bordered on poetry, were always peppered within his letters reporting on the mill.
“I suppose I am the only one of us three that has not changed,” Simon said.
“False,” Rothsay said. “You have most certainly changed since I last saw you. There is a genuine happiness in you today. Do tell me what has changed.”
How to tactfully explain to his friend what had changed?
“The growing pains of marriage have eased,” Langley replied. “My wife and I understand each other better now.”
“So you made peace regarding her compromising you?”
“In a way.” Simon could not stop the satisfied grin that spread across his face. “At the very least, we cannot annul the marriage now.”
Rothsay chuckled and raised his glass to Simon. “Well, at least you are enjoying yourselves.”
Not only were they enjoying themselves, he and Hannah had a better understanding of one another now. It was as if they had needed to consummate their marriage to truly begin it.
While he very much enjoyed the physical part of their relationship, as he reflected on these last few days, the moments in bed were not the first ones that came to mind.
No, he thought of the enjoyable conversations they had shared across the dining room table, about the evenings spent sitting together in the drawing room as they took turns reading a novel to one another, and the nights lying in bed with her asleep in his arms.
He had fallen even more in love with Hannah, which made him even more desperate for her to fall in love with him.
Damn it all, how had he let himself fall so far?
You are a bloody fool, Simon Langley!
“How did you manage to cast a dark cloud over yourself in under a minute?” Rothsay asked on a sigh. “Your moods are too mercurial, Langley. I do not know how your wife tolerates it.”
He wondered at it himself. “I suppose she tolerates them because she is my friend,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulder.
“Is that supposed to imply I am not?” Rothsay frowned. “I did not mean it that way.”
“No,” Langley assured him. “It is that Hannah and I are still nothing more than friends. Nothing has changed even after it changed.”
“I do not understand.”
“We are lovers, yes, but she does not love me. Her heart still belongs to John, as it always has. Nothing I do can change the fact that she will always love him.”
“More the fool her then,” Rothsay said.
“She’s not a fool. She is in love.”
“With a dead man who will never come back.” Rothsay sat forward, nailing him with his intent gaze. “It is time that you finally do something about that.”
“And what do you suggest I should do?”
“You need to make her fall in love with you.”
Simon let out a mocking laugh. “Impossible. Hannah has known me for years. If she were going to fall in love with me, she would have already.”
“Did you ever try to make her fall in love with you? Or did you stand back like a sad wallflower while John won her over?”
It was true that Simon had never done anything to express his feelings for Hannah. In fact, he had worked hard to hide them from everyone the moment he realized them.
He had just returned from Eton for the holidays when he overheard Talbot and Sarah discussing the fact that Lord Carrick had agreed for Hannah to marry John one day. The thought filled Simon with anger, outraged that they were selling off Hannah like livestock.
He had gone to Hannah to warn her she was to be forced to marry their childhood friend, but she had surprised him when she celebrated the news. She confided in Simon that, although she was only four and ten, she was madly in love with John.
It had been as if he endured a physical blow with the way the air had rushed from his lungs at her declaration. His heart had been broken, and it was at that moment he realized not only that he was in love with Hannah, but that she could never know.
He would never risk burdening her with the knowledge that he loved her when there was no chance she could return those feelings.
But now circumstances were different. There was a chance for him now and he possessed the greatest advantage likely ever allowed, seeing as he was her husband and they were bound together for life.
Rothsay clapped him good-naturedly on the shoulder. “Woo the woman, Langley. Put in the effort to make her fall in love with you. You might find your wife is quite amiable to the idea. I myself have experience with wooing a wife after the vows have been made.”
“You had the advantage of your wife not being in love with another man,” Langley pointed out.
“Yes, but I also had the disadvantage of my wife thinking I was a jackass most of the time. Your wife has always been a friend of yours.”
Indeed, friendship was a good foundation to build upon.
At any rate, he would lose nothing if he tried to woo Hannah. Yet how did one woo their wife?
“Do you have any suggestions on how I would go about wooing her?” he asked his friend.
“Join us in my family’s box at Drury Lane,” Rothsay suggested. “A new opera is premiering soon, and Cat has insisted we attend. She has heard that it is to be incredibly romantic.”
Yes, seats in a duke’s box at a romantic opera would be perfect for wooing a lady. Particularly when the lady in question relished the entertainments offered in London.
This wooing plan might prove more successful than he first anticipated.
***
Lady Mount’s butler was astonishingly young for a man in his position. He was also quite handsome with his fresh face and straight white teeth in a dazzling smile as he informed Hannah that the lady of the house was awaiting her in the morning room.
As he led her upstairs, she marvelled at his dark hair untouched by grey and his lack of sagging jowls and paunchy middle that most Mayfair butlers seemed to possess as if it was part of their uniform. She had to wonder on what kind of woman would hire such a butler.
That was quickly answered when she entered the morning room where Lady Mount sat on a damask sofa, every bit the social matriarch.
A pink turban covered hair that Hannah suspected was white with age, but the woman’s eyes were a startling aquamarine and bright with intelligence. While there were wrinkles and spots on her skin and the suppleness of her cheeks and neck had yielded to age, Lady Mount still had a timeless beauty to her. Perhaps because she still possessed all her teeth at her advanced age.
She wore a plaid dressing gown with slim sleeves that showed it was quite out of style, although Hannah assumed not due to an inability to pay for a new wardrobe but rather a preference for the styles of her younger years.
And considering it meant not having to struggle with the unwieldiness of gigot sleeves, Hannah thought she had the right of it. After all, Lady Mount was not the one who had to walk through the morning room door sideways so as not to flatten her own sleeves.
The older woman also had the right of it by surrounding herself with a bevy of tan coloured dogs with black masked faces. One sat primly on the damask sofa that Lady Mount had risen from, while two were playing tug-of-war with a hank of rope next to Lady Mount’s feet. By the fireplace, two pups playfully wrestled, snorting and snuffling, as a very fat dog snored peacefully on a large cushion.
“Do sit down, Mrs. Langley, if only to ease my aching joints,” Lady Mount said, and Hannah obeyed, joining Lady Mount on the sofa. “Barton, please bring refreshments for us.”
Lady Mount watched the butler depart and when the door was closed, she grinned. “He is a handsome one, is he not? I do so enjoy a pretty face. When you reach my age and are confined to your home, be sure to employ handsome servants. It makes it all more tolerable.”
“I can already see how sage that advice is, Lady Mount,” Hannah replied, much to the lady’s delight with the way she cackled.
“You are doing well with endearing yourself to your neighbours, Mrs. Langley,” Lady Mount said. “Now you need only tell me you adore pugs, and we shall be the best of friends.”
“I love all dogs,” Hannah replied, reaching out to pet the dog that sat between her and Lady Mount. “Although looking into this sweet face, I find myself with a newfound preference for pugs.”
“And now our friendship is secure.” Lady Mount smiled. “And I am always happy to welcome young people to the square. While I do enjoy observing the comings and goings at the assembly rooms on the corner, I cannot make out details the way I can when it is direct neighbours I am observing.” Lady Mount nodded towards the high-backed chair placed before the window that faced the square. “Which reminds me, you looked beautiful in your peacock costume for the Aston-Higgins masquerade.”
The older woman was quite observant and lucky enough to have her eyesight if she had recognized Hannah had dressed as a peacock for the ball. If her memory held up as well as her eyesight, Lady Mount might be exactly who she needed to speak to in order to discover the identity of Miss P and her Officer.
“Thank you, Lady Mount, I am flattered.”
“Nonsense. You are a beautiful young lady, and well you know it. I assume all the young bucks wrote poetry about your beauty over the years. Or perhaps not, as I know you only attended a single truncated season years ago.”
Lady Mount was as sharp of mind as eyesight, apparently.
“Lady Mount, you seem to be knowledgeable. Not only about what happens in the square but also everywhere else.”
“I do love to be in the know, Mrs. Langley. I spend more time than I should reading society papers and gossip pamphlets. It makes me feel that I am still among the ton . Lately, I have found it hard to attend events, but I make an effort to host them whenever I can. The unfortunate part of getting older is that your friends do as well. Then they either suffer from ailments that keep them housebound or they just up and die on you.” She let out a sigh. “ C’est la vie . We all must soldier on.”
Hannah had to admire the woman’s fortitude in the face of tragedy. Yes, one had to get on with it. Life continued even if those we lost were no longer here.
“Well, I am happy to be a new friend of yours,” Hannah said, “And as I suffer from no ailments, it will be quite easy for me to come to you.”
“How kind of you,” Lady Mount said. “Now, tell me about yourself. I suspected when Mr. Langley moved into the square, it meant he would soon take a wife. That is a house for a family, not a bachelor. We need more families in the square. I am quite done with the stuffy old men who complain about too many dogs doing their business on the green.”
Obviously, not everyone in Hanover Square preferred for pugs.
“Mr. Langley and I are recently married, although I suspect you knew that already since you knew I only had a brief season here in Town all those years ago. Should I assume you know I was engaged once before?”
Lady Mount’s playful countenance turned solemn. “I did. I also know the unfortunate circumstances that ended it so did not have any intention of speaking of something so painful. I am sorry for your loss.”
For the first time, speaking of John did not cause a terrible stab of pain in her heart. There was still sadness, yes, but it no longer pained her the way it once had.
“I appreciate your discretion, although it’s unnecessary,” she replied. “I consider losing my fiancé as much a part of my story as anything else that has happened to me. It also provides context for why I waited so many years until I married Mr. Langley. I do worry that others may think my late age for marrying means there is something amiss with me.”
“I have never agreed with the idea that a lady marrying later showed her in a negative light. Ladies should wait longer before they marry, in my opinion. A lady must be certain of the man she ties herself to for life. It shows intelligence and common sense to wait.” Lady Mount raised a judgemental eyebrow as she leaned towards Hannah. “Frankly, I think the only ladies who should be judged are rich widows who marry again. I understand if one’s first husband did not leave one financially secure, of course. But to do so when one has a plum settlement and endless freedom? Madness!”
As Hannah giggled, Barton returned with tea and cake that Lady Mount was happy to serve. The dogs were soon at their sides, sniffing and snuffling in search of food. Even the napping one had woken up and waddled over.
Thankfully, a set of pretty blond footmen quickly diverted the dogs’ attention from the cake by arriving with silver dishes filled with minced meat, which they set out for them.
“My dogs are all spoiled, of course,” Lady Mount said as she smiled fondly at them. “However, they produce delightful puppies who make excellent companions. The Earl of Marston has taken one for each of his daughters over the years. Their family was one of the first residents of the square along with my late husband’s family.”
What a perfect change in subject!
“You are quite well-versed in the history here in the square, Lady Mount. You must tell me about my house’s previous owners.”
“Ah yes, Sir Archibald Campbell. He owned the house for nearly thirty years.”
Based on the condition of the paper, the letters could not be older than that.
“After thirty years, you must have known him quite well,” Hannah said, hoping Lady Mount would open up about the man.
“I am afraid not. Sir Archibald rarely lived there in those thirty years. He and his family lived in Scotland and rarely made the journey here. Not that I blame them. Not even a gold clock would tempt me to make that journey.”
If Sir Archibald and his family seldom visited the house, it was unlikely they were connected to the letters. Were they older than she thought?
“I admit that I did not mind that they stayed away,” Lady Mount continued. “Sir Archibald let out the house most of the time. It made for much more interesting neighbours over the decades.”
Hannah inwardly groaned at the revelation, the list of suspects suddenly growing massively long. Miss P and the Officer could be any number of renters over the years. Or any of the guests they had invited to stay there.
No, not the guests. After all, why would a guest seal their letters in the wall of someone else’s house? The letters must belong to someone who had lived in the house for a considerable amount of time. It was still a long list of suspects and an ever longer list of questions that might never have answers. Which Hannah knew would drive her to distraction. She could never leave a question unanswered.
She needed to know who Miss P and the Officer were, and if she was to do that, she needed a bloodhound for gossip like Lady Mount on her side.
“Lady Mount, the truth is I am very interested in knowing who once occupied my house. I have found something that might belong to someone who once lived there. I found it hidden, so I am afraid its owner may have forgotten it, and I want to return it if possible.”
That piqued the lady’s interest, her aquamarine eyes lighting up. “What did you find? Stolen jewels? A yet to be read will? The Princes in the Tower?”
Hannah had to hold back an incredulous laugh at Lady Mount’s imagination.
“Letters,” she answered. “Love letters.”
“Oh, how interesting!”
“They are addressed to a lady with the initial P. Do you know who she could be?”
Lady Mount considered the question, her eyes flicking back and forth as if searching her mind before she frowned. “I am afraid no one immediately comes to mind.”
Hannah tried her best to hide her disappointment behind the rim of the teacup she sipped from.
“But my memory is not as sharp as it once was,” Lady Mount continued. “I will look back through my journals for the names of those who stayed in the house. I have always been a diligent writer, so the names are likely there. However, being a diligent writer means that there are many volumes of my journals to read through. It might take some time.”
“Oh, I would not want to put you to any trouble,” Hannah said, feeling guilty about asking the elderly lady to go to such trouble.
“Nonsense! As everyone knows, I love a good piece of intrigue. Love letters from an unknown author for an unknown recipient, all of them hidden away for years? I am in my element, Mrs. Langley.”
“Then you will not judge me when I say I am in my element as well,” Hannah confessed with a smile. “I love solving a mystery.”
Lady Mount once again cackled in delight. “You and I shall be wonderful companions, Mrs. Langley. Now, tell me what else you know about this P and her letter writer. Perhaps a detail might jog a memory.”
“Well, the writer signs his name as ‘Your Faithful Officer,’ although it is based on a flirtation between them and not his actual service. Per the letters I have read, the Officer was introduced to Miss P by his aunt. He was instantly enamoured with her, however, she met his brother, who fell for her as well. Our Officer is timid, but his brother was not and the final letter in the stack indicates the brother intends to propose to Miss P.”
“Oh well, now that is interesting! I do not remember any gossip of a broken engagement where the lady ran off with a brother. That would be scandalous enough to be burned in my memory.”
“So then the Officer never confessed,” Hannah said with a frown.
“Or he did, but Miss P did not return his feelings,” Lady Mount ventured.
“Or she did, but could not break her engagement,” Hannah offered sadly, and Lady Mount frowned now.
“Not unheard of for a lady to marry someone because she had to and not because she wanted to.”
Hannah knew that fate well. Lucky for her, it had turned out better than it did for most other ladies.
It may have been rocky at first, but her marriage had now settled into a comfortable relationship. Who knew that all it took to find a common ground with Simon would be sneaking into his bed?
Hannah made herself blush at such a thought and shook it off. “I shall read through the letters again and make note of any other people they mention to see if you may recall them.”
“Excellent!” Lady Mount said. “You should bring them here to read and I will have my old journals brought down. It shall be our own literary party!”
“That sounds lovely.”
Hannah was happy to have found not only a helper for to the mystery but also a new friend here in the square.
Her life had completely turned around now, giving her a new world to navigate, but one she was enjoying very much.