Page 5 of Presenting Miss Letitia (Once a Wallflower 1)

Hearing voices, Letty spun around. She spied an elaborate screen in the far corner, painted with a beautiful rustic scene. She’d just slipped behind it when the door opened. Not daring to risk a peek, she stood with her hands to her cheeks, trying to breathe quietly.

“Good, we can talk freely here,” a woman said.

“Lord, Susan! What is this? Your husband will be looking for you,” a man responded.

“He is busy, ensconced with his colleagues. And I wanted to see you privately, Marston,” she said, sounding flirtatious. “I thought we might…” Her voice lowered into a whisper.

“A quick tumble here in the library? You may be that reckless, madam, but I am not.”

Letty put a hand to her mouth to stop from gasping. How foolish of her not to make herself known to them and leave. But it was too late now. She was trapped!

“Where might we meet then?”

“We won’t. Not until your husband has breathed his last. It’s too perilous.”

“I’ll be too old,” she said in a sulky voice.

He chuckled. “It won’t be long by the look of him. Fraughton doesn’t seem to be in the best of health. One never knows…”

She gasped. “You wouldn’t! Surely not, Marston?”

“You have a vivid imagination, Susan. Or do you wish I would?” There was a pause where Letty strained to hear. “Can you be fond of him?”

“We barely see each other from day to day. He dines with his cronies and is never there at breakfast. I had no say in the marriage. Father insisted. He wished me to be well settled.”

“And so you are. The man’s as wealthy as Croesus. Give me a kiss then.”

The kissing seemed to go on rather long. Letty wished she had a chair. When moans and groans reached her, her face heated, and she wanted to block her ears. What if they discovered her? But they seemed caught up with each other. So much so, she feared they might be there for hours. Finally, amid rustling noises and the lady’s giggles, they left the room.

After waiting a moment to be sure, Letty slipped from her hiding place. She cautiously opened the library door and peered out. Without chancing discovery, she darted down the empty corridor to the door leading to the ball room.

“There you are, Letitia.” Aunt Edith gathered up her shawl and reticule. “I thought I must have missed you on the dance floor.” She frowned. “You cannot dance with just anyone, you know. You must first be introduced.”

“I wasn’t dancing, Aunt. And I don’t see how I can be introduced when no one wishes to meet me.”

Her aunt looked exasperated. “Where were you then? Surely not in the withdrawing room all this time?”

“I… tore my hem and had to pin it.”

“Oh, your lovely dress. What a shame. I do hope you haven’t ruined it. Give it to Mary to mend and launder. I found no one here tonight who might ask you to dance. But never fear, I’m sure more of my acquaintances will attend the next social event. It’s still early in the Season, and many remain at their country estates.” She smiled at Letty. “But it was your first ball, and you looked very well and behaved prettily. Did you enjoy yourself?”

Letty failed to imagine how crammed the ballrooms would become once the ton had all returned to London. “I did, Aunt. I found it most…enlightening.”

“Good. Quite different to life in the country, is it not?” She put a gloved hand to her mouth. “I declare, I am ready for my bed. I haven’t been out so late in years.”

Letty had to stifle a yawn herself. She hadn’t yet grown used to city hours, and her lowered spirits made her tired. Her anticipation of a wonderful Season waned a little. As they left the ballroom to wait for their carriage to be brought around, Letty stared about her at the milling guests, wondering what the man and woman in the library looked like. She knew only their names, Lord Fraughton’s wife, Susan, and the man with the low seductive voice, Marston.

“Do you know of a man called Marston, Aunt Edith?” she asked when they’d settled in their carriage.

“Marston?” Her aunt frowned. “I hope he did not approach you.”

“No, I heard his name mentioned, that’s all.”

“Robert Marston is a rake. You must have nothing to do with him!”

So, that was a rake. My goodness! Letty had read about them, but in all her eighteen years, had never met one. She thought again of the couple in the library, kissing, obviously, and whatever else—her imagination failed to fill in the details. Although such an experience had hardly been what she wished for, for they were not nice people, the episode had stirred something in her, an excitement and a curiosity. It was, after all, the beginning of her adventure. Once she got home, she would put pen to paper and tell Jane all about it. She frowned. Well, perhaps not all of it. She didn’t want her dear friend worried about her.

Brandon disliked missions such as these. He would prefer to be in Paris, working actively in some way to serve the Crown. Not skulking behind pillars like some miscreant. He’d thus far had no success with Fraughton either, who seemed to be more interested in what was occurring in England among his peers, than anything to do with the man about to be beheaded in France. The whole affair seemed odd to him. He wondered if his spymaster had the right of it. But Willard was not one to be mistaken.

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