Chapter Sixteen
Laurence stepped out onto the sunny London street from the office his lawyer kept at the end of Chancery Lane.
He had wanted to update his will, now that he was wed, just to make sure Anastasia would be provided for and would never have to return to her brother if something happened to him.
He did not like Oliver Carrington, and he never wanted her at his mercy again.
He glanced up and down the busy street and paused at the sight of a flash of red hair in the crowd.
He had always found redheads attractive, but now he always seemed to be checking whether they were Anastasia—although there was no reason why she would be in this part of London right now.
But still, he paused—and that was his downfall.
The redhead spotted him too and made her way toward him. By the time he realized it was very definitely not Anastasia, she had already set her sights on him.
He groaned inwardly, though he tried to keep his expression neutral. He certainly did not want to cause a scene or set off the London gossips.
Lady Frindley cut through the crowd, and he had no choice but to stand and wait for her to reach him.
“Lord Walsham,” she said with an icy smile on her lips, nonetheless. “Well met. Why, I have not seen you since your charming little wedding. How is the new Lady Walsham?”
It felt wrong to discuss Anastasia with her, like he was opening up his wife to some evil force, although he did not truly understand the feeling. Lady Frindley had never done anything particularly cruel or nasty, as far as he knew. She was just rather too persistent…
“She is well, thank you,” Laurence said. “And I trust you are well also?”
“Exceedingly so,” Lady Frindley said, her tongue darting between her teeth. “I wonder, might you care to take a walk around Russell Square with me?”
“Thank you, but I’m afraid I must decline. I must be getting back.”
He had absolutely no wish to take a walk with Lady Frindley, and he was sure she knew that. Indeed, why would she ask him unless she hoped for some reconciliation between the two—a continuation of the love affair they once enjoyed?
But that would not be happening. Even if Laurence did return to his rakish ways at some point in the future—although it was a scenario he was finding harder and harder to imagine—he could not see a situation in which he would ever rekindle things with Lady Frindley.
For one, he never continued a dalliance for longer than a couple of months.
And secondly, she had grown far too tenacious for his liking.
He always liked to make a clean break and had always made sure that any lady in his life was aware of the fleeting nature of their romance.
And somehow, Lady Frindley was the first who had been unsatisfied with the way things had ended. She had wanted more—and he had not been willing to give more.
He had never thought he had any more to give… and yet, now he was married.
And he was reevaluating that belief.
Lady Frindley’s smile tightened. “Well then, perhaps I shall just have to pay a call on you in the near future. And meet your lovely wife properly, of course. I’m sure she and I would have plenty to discuss.”
Laurence swore in his head. She had him, and he was sure she knew it.
A walk with her now would certainly be preferable to her paying him a call, sitting and talking to Anastasia about God knew what.
Not that he had done anything wrong—he didn’t think.
His relationship with Lady Frindley had been well before he and Anastasia married.
But still, he rather thought that the bold widow would make his new young wife rather uncomfortable.
And he really did not want that.
“Perhaps a short walk would be possible,” he said, his grip tightening on the cane he carried—one his father had always had with him.
“Excellent!” Lady Frindley said, threading her arm through his and leading him in the direction of the park.
He bristled at how close she was and struggled to understand how, less than a year earlier, he had found her so attractive.
She had driven him wild, and yet now, if anything, her presence irritated him.
He looked down at her as they walked; it wasn’t her appearance that had changed, and nor did he think her personality was particularly different than it had been when they were together.
It was surely he who had changed…
But was it the death of his father, his new title, or Anastasia that had changed everything so completely?
“And how is marriage treating you?” Lady Frindley asked, her soft bosom pressing against his arm as they walked. He felt decidedly uncomfortable and hoped he could extricate himself from the walk as quickly as possible.
“Very well, thank you,” he said without hesitation.
And it was. Perhaps he wished he understood her a little more, knew her a little better—but there was no doubting that they had a strong connection.
He was confident that many marriages that had been planned much more thoroughly than theirs did not enjoy such strong chemistry as he and Anastasia did.
“I must admit I was surprised at your choosing to marry—and an innocent girl with no knowledge of how to be a viscountess at that.”
Laurence bristled at her negative attitude toward Anastasia but decided it was better to keep things as friendly as possible.
“Well, the heart wants what the heart wants,” he said.
She stopped suddenly and looked up at him. “So this was a love match, was it?”
“I—”
He did not like to lie, and the marriage had certainly not been a love match. But there was no denying that his heart was somewhat involved now, even if he wasn’t sure it could be called love. He certainly cared for her.
“Lady Walsham and I are very happy,” he said in the end, even though it didn’t really answer the question.
“I see,” Lady Frindley said, and he wanted to ask her exactly what it was she thought she saw, but he did not wish to prolong the conversation any more than was necessary.
“You know,” Lady Frindley said, continuing to walk with her arm tightly in his, “I was disappointed when our arrangement came to an end last Season.”
“I apologize. As you know, my father—”
She nodded. “Yes, yes, it was extremely sad. And I understood your need to grieve, to leave the city for a time. But when you returned…”
“Things had changed, Caroline,” he said firmly. “I’m sorry that that was the case. You knew that our relationship was unlikely to last for long. I am sorry if I hurt you, but—”
She gave a laugh, which did not sound entirely convincing.
“It’s not that you hurt me, Laurence. Gosh, you do think highly of yourself. It’s simply that the arrangement seemed to benefit us both, and I saw no need—indeed, I see no need—for it to come to an end.”
“I am married now.” It seemed like an obvious thing to point out, but the lady didn’t seem to understand that meant their relationship could not continue. Perhaps for some people, marriage was no object but somehow, with Anastasia—things were different.
Lady Frindley shrugged and laughed again, but this time it sounded colder. “We both know that doesn’t need to mean anything. Why, even before Lord Frindley died, we both had our dalliances. It made for a more successful marriage, I daresay.”
In the past, Laurence rather thought he might’ve agreed with her. Having other interests—indeed, other people—outside of the marriage would surely allow it to flourish.
But it was different in reality. It was different with Anastasia.
Thinking of her in bed with another man made him feel physically sick, and the thought of taking another woman to his bed held no appeal whatsoever.
He only wanted Anastasia. It had certainly not been what he had expected, but it was the way things had turned out.
“We could carry on as we were,” Lady Frindley continued. “No one would have to know. She wouldn’t have to know. I can be very discreet…and I’m confident I can please you in ways a naive little chit like her never could.”
He pulled his arm from hers, anger making his blood boil. It was one thing to suggest they continue their liaison, but quite another to insult Anastasia in such a vile way—and in public too, where they might be overheard.
“For the final time—no. We had an enjoyable Season together, and now it has come to an end. Please accept that, Caroline—and do not contact me again.”
And with that, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the park toward home, hoping that he had not made a grave error in making an enemy of Lady Frindley.