Duplicity Ch. 02

It's been three weeks since the evening Lord John Mallory, Marquess of Davenport, first encountered Lady Evelyn. Since that moment he hadn't had a moment's reprieve from the thought of her. More to the point, the thought of having her.

His predicament wasn't helped by the constant, incessant gossip that pervades Lady Evelyn's every move. Not a single day passed without her name being uttered. Lady Evelyn was seen riding and taking tea with so and so. She wore a fashionable new gown to yet another ball. Yes, she still resides with the Warwick's. No, no one knew anything more about her life before her arrival.

Lord Davenport always listened in silence whenever she was mentioned. He gave no outward indication that she was of any particular interest to him. It simply wouldn't do for anyone to suspect he too had joined the ranks of Lady Evelyn's growing admirers. The idea that anyone would group him with the rest of the lovelorn young bucks was simply detestable to him, but he drank in every bit of the tittle tattle.

There was, of course, Philip's feelings to consider, he supposed.

With some difficulty, Lord Davenport kept his distance. Yet, she managed to materialize at the odd moments when he was on his way to his club or Westminster or any number of other places as part of his normal routine. She was always accompanied by a gaggle of the Warwick household, always a picture of perfect beauty and impeccable refinement next to the over-trimmed Lady Warwick and her equally horrible sisters. On a few occasions their eyes did meet but she never acknowledged him, nor he her. Still he carried the image of her with him for the rest of the day.

Life was too predictable and stagnant, he thought ruefully. That's why he was so intrigued by her. She presented a puzzle to him when there were few true challenges left in life. Soon, God willing, she will marry and move to the country and produce a litter of brats for some unhappy sod, and he would have forgotten her.

It's been two weeks since Lord Davenport received the latest long missive from his father one morning just as he sat down to his breakfast. As with all his father's letters this one was terse and to the point: In short, the Marquess of Davenport MUST take a wife soon and start producing heirs. There was a veiled threat that if he did not see to this duty, his father the Duke of Northumberland, will chose his bride. For one brief horrifying moment, Lord Davenport had half expected the Duke to add: I've chosen Lady Evelyn! God was merciful, however and no specific young lady was mentioned.

Lord Davenport didn't finish reading the letter before balling it in his fist which he pressed against his throbbing feverish forehead. He really should have declined that last two fingers of whiskey the night before.

The prospect of marriage was neither appealing nor unappealing to Lord Davenport. It simply must be done... one day... in the future. For the sake of begetting heirs. He would rather not have his father bring it up to him however. He'd rather not hear from his father at all with concerns for his future.

"Sod it!" He tossed the crumpled letter into the fire.

Lord Davenport decided to go out a bit and allow the brisk, blustery air to clear away his headache. Rather than taking his horse, he ordered his carriage to drive aimlessly about the city. The sounds and smells of London calmed him somewhat at first, but soon his headache returned. He called for his driver to turn to a darker, seedier part of the city, where the air was more foul, the cobbled streets more narrow and the crush of griping bodies more worn and weary.

From his carriage window, he pursued the grubby faces that peered back at him. The last holdouts from a night of debauchery, no doubt. There were a few hapless feminine faces that didn't look too diseased and passably attractive. Finally he saw one that would do. She was rather plain, with a smattering of freckles on a plump face and coppery hair. He gestured for her to step into his carriage.

The girl did not speak, didn't make a sound as she took her position on her knees between his spread thighs. Lord Davenport's dark brows furrowed slightly and he closed his eyes as she freed his member from his clothe. Swiftly, without preamble, she took his entire shaft down her throat. With a sigh of contentment he settle back as the carriage slowly started to move again, swaying him lightly as the silky, wet mouth of the woman at his feet massaged his cock.

It was marvelous! Just what he needed! In that moment, all the buzzing and rattling inside his head subsided and he was able to find peace with the intoxicating sensation of her lips sealed tightly around him as she forced herself down closer and closer to his pelvis. The friction was moistening her mouth, until his cock pushed a few bubbles of drool from the corners of her mouth. The girl was quite talented. It didn't take too long before he exploded in a white hot searing burst of ecstasy into the girl's mouth. Then there was just a quiet peace... however brief. By the time the nameless girl, clutching in her calloused hand the few coins he had dropped there, scurried out of his carriage, the deep throbbing in his head returned.

The carriage left the muddy streets behind and came into the brighter, cleaner, broader lanes. Lord Davenport quickly jumped out of his carriage and sent it home. A cool, brisk walk would clear his foul mood and sooth his throbbing head.

Moments later he came upon the grand stone and wrought iron gates of a magnificent town home. He was nearly at the gate when through the scrolled fencing he recognized a distinct little female figure, in a fashionable riding dress and veiled hat, descended from a hired carriage, in the front of the house. She glided gracefully but hurriedly up the front steps.

He didn't have to see her complete profile to know that it was indeed her. For a moment he forgot to breath as the thundering in his temple intensified. It wasn't until she disappeared into the house that he let out a ragged breath.

There wasn't a glimmer of doubt, from either her profile or carriage that it was Lady Evelyn!

Something in her movements raised the alarm bells in Lord Davenport's head. Who was it that she was visiting. He stepped away from the gate to squinted up at the magnificent home and recognized it immediately as a residence he had dined at not so long ago. His host and current occupant of the residence was the king's youngest son, Prince Edward! His highness had been away at university for some time. It appeared that he returned just in time perhaps to be ensnared into Lady Evelyn's growing web.

"My, Lady Evelyn, how quickly you move up the ladder," Lord Davenport sneered up at the great palatial residence. There was only one reason why a young woman, unmarried, unchaperoned, would so hurriedly enter a man's apartments. So the aristocracy was no longer satisfactory to Lady Evelyn, she has now set her sights on royalty!

When Lord Davenport returned home later that day he felt surprisingly better and much lighter than he had in weeks.

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Exactly a week past when he received an invitation from Lady Warwick inviting him and Philip to tea. No doubt, Lady Warwick's gauche sisters, all in need of husbands, will be in attendance. There would have been really no way to refuse her without insulting the old Earl, but Lord Davenport would still have declined if Philip hadn't agreed to go. It's been three weeks since he had seen hide nor hair of Philip. Quite a feat since they dwell under the same roof.

And that's how they all came to be in the Warwick's solarium on an unseasonably hot, sunny summer day.

Lady Warwick, dressed in a lace trimmed silk new gown and bedecked with jewels made a show of welcoming her guests and introducing them to her sisters Ruth and Mary. Both young ladies bobbed courtesies as they giggled incessantly. They continued to giggle as the guests were lead out into the solarium where tea things were laid out.

Lord Davenport felt her before he saw her. It was in the prickle on the back of his neck, that grew into a tingling warmth. A surge of desire nearly overwhelmed him when she offered him her slender, tapered hand in greeting. He allowed himself to linger over that delicate little hand and caress her fingers ever so slightly.

Evelyn suppressed a gasp at his touch and quickly pulled away to take the farthest seat from him.

Tea was poured. The weather was commented on, as were the beauty of the flowers. Over the constant chattering of Lady Warwick's sing-song voice, Lord Davenport's glaze returned again and again to Evelyn. Whether she was sipping her tea or simply looking off into a distance, each slight gesture was utterly alluring to him. He had to remind himself that she was just a common thing, regardless of her otherworldly beauty. She's not worthy of his admiration. Not when the specter of the foppish young Prince Edward hovered over her.

"I will have her and be done with her," he thought to himself.

Philip politely made small talk with the other women, and stole glances between his cousin and Lady Evelyn. Whatever he saw there dimmed the light in his brown eyes, and he nodded in silence acceptance and returned his attention to keep up a light banter with his hostesses.

Lady Warwick and her sisters, hardly seemed to notice the drama playing out beneath the surface. While Lady Warwick busied herself calling for more hot water and cakes to be brought in. Her sisters Mary and Regina, sat, held hands with their heads turned towards each other and answered every one of Philip's polite questions with a peal of bashful giggles.

Luckily the elderly, frail, Lord Warwick deign to join them after awhile. He was wheeled in his chair by a strong, strapping footman. The old man seemed to be be half asleep at first, but when he opened his eyes he immediately honed in sharply on Lord Davenport.

"It's good to see you again dear boy!" the Earl said in his loud, warbling voice. "Not myself these days as you can see. I dare say that I've fought my last battle. Though in my day I was commended twice by his Majesty for my bravery. You're war was nothing compared to what I went through I assure you."

"That was so long ago!" his wife said with an embarrassed half-laugh.

"Lord Davenport remembers!" the old Earl retorted back. "I was not always this sack of bones."

Lord Davenport gave the old man a respectful nod as he set aside his tea to steeple his fingers beneath his chin. "I do remember a few of the tales told of your campaigns," he said. "Perhaps you'll recount a few for us now."

Lady Warwick looked horrified. "Goodness, surely we'd rather hear of your heroism my Lord Davenport," she quickly interjected, with a concerned pout. She leaned forward to pat Lord Davenport's arm, battered her eyelids and offer him a clear view of her decolletage. "I understand you were injured many times, that you even had to put down a rebellion within your own ranks! How horrifying! How glorious!"

"Neither was it glorious nor too terrifying," Lord Davenport replied with a thin smile. "It was, as all wars, best left up to the poets to immortalized and romanticize. While those of us who fought would rather never think of it again."

Everyone sounded their agreement as they partake in the tea.

"But to be wounded," Lady Warwick said after awhile. "Especially if one was terribly wounded, how would one forget?"

Lord Warwick gave a loud snort. "That was his own mistake! Had you asked me I would have told you never allow a foreign force to fight within your own ranks. Always keep them separate for today's allies can quickly turn to tomorrow's foe. They'd all stick a knife to you eventually."

Philip cleared his throat nervously into his fist and quickly sought to change the subject by asking of the variety of flowers blooming in the solarium.

But no one could think of anything else but to hear Lord Davenport's rely.

Lord Davenport had been sitting with his chin propped in his palm. His eyes flicked up briefly to glower up at the old, frail Earl. "The decision wasn't mine. Such matters rarely are. But what was one battalion, the lives of a few hundred men--"

"Better to sleep in a hornets nest. Ha!" the elderly Earl interrupted. "I would have sent the whole sorry lot packing before they ever reached the food supply! Dirty animals! "

Not a muscle flinched on Lord Davenport's face as he leveled his silvery-blue dangerously at the gaunt, bent figure of the old Earl. The old man didn't appear to notice. "It hardly matters now," he grounded out

Lord Warwick nodded vigorously at Lord Davenport's impassive silence. "Of course one does not like to speak of the past. Good man. No need to bring that up again. But tell me my lord, is trouble brewing here at home? Every time the window opens I hear shouts for reform. Reform! Reform! Reform! What for, I ask you? His Majesty is a fair and goodly king. We've had worse prime ministers. What are they carrying on about?. "

Lord Davenport's took a deep, steady breath as he prayed for patience. "My lord it's a matter of the parliamentary seats. How it's been distributed within the lower house seems... unbalanced to some."

"It's been the way it has always bee. There there be peace in the realm for once!"

"Peace is tenuous when there's feelings of injustice, my lord," Philip interjected. "There are simply too many discrepancies in the electorate to be ignored."

"So you think the hallowed grounds of Westminster ought to be overrun by tradesmen and ruffians? Give the commoners the same deference as men of noble blood?" the Earl shouted with a loud gurgling sound in the back of his throat.

"Reform will not come so easily," Lord Davenport said, though his tone wasn't one of reassurance. "Many lords feel as you do and will not support reform."

Philip spoke again. "It's a call for revolution. Merely a reexamination of how the lines of each borough is drawn when some are clearly defunct or were reclaimed by nature."

"This miserable lot will weaken the realm!" the Earl grumbled as he pressed a handkerchief to his lips. "It'll be civil war again!"

"My lord," a female voice piped up just then. All eyes turned towards Evelyn then. "I'm certain there's no need to treat the reformers as hostiles. There is a need for change as surely as the ages itself changes. I've heard it said that we are ever exploring new lands and discovering new things. Men of little or no means before are able to better their lot through trade in these foreign parts. As they better their lot the more they have a mind to governance. It can only be to strengthen this kingdom, not to tear it apart--"

"Only time will tell if you are right, Lady Evelyn" Lord Davenport said evenly to her when no one else spoke. "Perhaps Lord Warwick hears reform and thinks another Cromwell might emerge. For that was a bloody mess of a time. There is nothing that says such a thing cannot happen again. What other matters of state concerns you my lady? I believe you have a vested interest."

Evelyn didn't understand his meaning but rather than provoke him, she simply fell silent. For a brief moment her eyes met his icy grayish blue ones set deeply in his handsome chiseled face and a small shudder ran down her spine.

Lady Warwick snorted with impatience. "Really Evelyn, such matters are of no concern to young ladies! Of course the kingdom is strong, God bless our gracious king."

The topic of conversation turned to the latest music, more to the pleasure of the other ladies while the elderly Earl appeared to have nodded off again.

It allowed Evelyn an unhindered moment to step back and study the chiseled profile of Lord Davenport. She was certain that she hated him, but she could not stop thinking about their first meeting. Soon after that fateful night, she quickly learned his identity from Lady Warwick, and quite a few others. Everyone was quick to point him out whenever he happened by. Much was made of his noble character, which Evelyn would silently refute, and his illustrious title and vast wealth, that meant nothing to Evelyn. She quickly surmised that he was beloved by the bon ton, both respected and admired for his power and good-looks. Should she accuse him of being indecent, she would undoubtedly be blamed. and would never be thought any less if she publicly accused him of indecency. Therefore it would be best to stay silent about her meeting with him and simply avoid him.

What was there for her to say? That he made some lurid accusations against her at their first meeting. Perhaps he stepped just beyond the lines of propriety? Many a nights she tossed and turned in her bed as that memory played over and over in her mind what she knew of the man. She felt his firm grip on her for weeks after, as surely as if he had seared his touch into her skin. Luckily they had no occasion to meet again and she was certain she'll soon forget him.

Then, Lord Davenport, her tormentor, arrived to tea!

Now here he was, the Warwicks' honored guest, just a foot away from her, and slowly overwhelmed her with his maleness even when he wasn't scowling in her direction. As though he had anything to scowl over! She was the offended party! Perhaps she should simply remove herself from his presence and reclaim some of her peace of mind. Yet, the rules of decorum demanded that she suffered through her discomfort and receive him as a guest in the Earl's home.

"My lord this weather is unseasonably warm, is it not?" she asked him, in an attempt towards civility. A few words on the weather she would have fulfilled her duty. She'll claim fatigue from the heat.

"Quite," he replied in his deep seductive voice. As determined as Evelyn was to dislike him, she could not deny his physical beauty.

"The devil is beautiful too," she reminded herself.

Those penetrating eyes of his seemed to stare straight into her soul and what he saw there made him smirk. Could he actually see her thoughts? "I find it a gentle reminder that the Season will soon end and we'll all retreat to the country once more away from this stifling London weather. Will you join the Warwicks when they leave London or to you retreat to your own estate?.... Where is that exactly?"

Evelyn ignored his probing question with a strained smile. "We do have some time before the end of the Season. I am looking forward to Ascot, as I've heard so much about the races."

"Do they not race horses where you are from?" he asked pointedly.

Lady Warwick was laughing at something Philip had said and called Lord Davenport's attention away for a brief moment. Evelyn breathed a sigh of relief and took that moment to leave her seat and have her tea away from the others. It was truly a glorious warm day with a rare moment of sunshine and not a speck of cloud in the sky. Yet, the warmth only added to Evelyn's discomfort and she wished with her whole heart that their visitors would depart and she could hide away in her chamber.

At that moment Philip took notice of her standing off to one corner of the room alone and went to her.

"I too think, progress and reform isn't to be feared," he said gently to her. "I believe that was the point you were trying to make?"

Evelyn smiled gratefully up at this kind, mild-manner man. "I do believe I spoke out of turn," she replied bashfully. "I'm often times carried away with my own thoughts and opinions."

"But you must not be sorry for it," Philip gently protested. "You should always speak your mind in the company of friends."

"Ah, but Lady Evelyn doesn't care for our friendship," Lord Davenport interjected as he joined them, casting his shadow over both Evelyn and Philip. "She keeps loftier company. Isn't that so, LADY Evelyn?"