Drops of Gold(52)

Lord Cavratt rolled his eyes, but his lady wife pressed on. “But what precisely has been weighing on him? Crispin has said many times how very much Layton has changed but has never indicated a reason for the transformation.”

“If I knew precisely what the cause was, I would have addressed it years ago.” Lord Lampton’s tone turned perfectly serious and perceptive. The shift caught Marion’s attention further. She found herself leaning ever so slightly forward to listen closer. “I first noticed a change after Caroline was born, though I am certain she is not the cause of his difficulties.”

“Indeed. Caroline is the only person from whom he hasn’t cut himself off,” Lord Cavratt acknowledged.

“But then, Bridget, his wife,” Lord Lampton added with a look at Lady Cavratt, who nodded her understanding, “was ill for several months after the birth. A mysterious illness at that. She didn’t see anyone or go out. She died after only a handful of months had passed.”

“Perhaps he is mourning for his late wife,” Lady Cavratt suggested, though the others didn’t look convinced.

Marion felt like shouting. He feels responsible! He feels weighed down by lies and guilt! If only they knew.

“Their marriage wasn’t like that,” Lord Lampton said. “They were fond of each other. Friends. But theirs wasn’t a connection deep enough to account for his dropping out of life for losing her. He would certainly miss her, mourn her loss. It wouldn’t have destroyed him like this though. There must be something more.”

There is! Marion silently answered. They needed to know; they might be able to help him. And despite all of the pain she’d felt over the dratted man, she wanted to help Layton. She wanted someone to lift this burden for him.

“It seems to me you need to find out what that something more is,” Lady Cavratt said.

“Believe me, Catherine,” Lord Lampton answered, sounding almost fierce, “I have been trying for five years. I’d give anything to know.”





Chapter Nineteen



“Perhaps your uncle Flip would like to see the watercolors we created last week,” Marion whispered in Caroline’s ear two mornings later.

With an enthusiastic nod of her head, Caroline scampered from the schoolroom into her bedchamber. Soon the sounds of rummaging floated through the air. It would take Caroline several minutes to locate them, something Marion was counting on.

“That was well maneuvered of you, Miss Wood.” Lord Lampton spoke with obvious curiosity. Marion watched him tug at his cobalt-blue waistcoat and flick an invisible speck of lint from the sleeve of his claret-colored jacket. “I assume you have some business with me.”

He wandered to the schoolroom window, swaggering as always but quite obviously on his guard, every inch the aristocrat. He reminded her rather forcibly of Layton in that moment, of the facade he affected when he meant to squelch someone’s—hers, usually—pretensions. Marion swallowed with some difficulty, telling herself she had to do this. Had to.

“Yes, my lord.” Her voice quivered. No need to feel unequal to the task, she admonished herself. He was only an earl. She’d conversed with dukes and a marquess on a regular basis. Of course, she hadn’t been a servant at the time.

Lord Lampton turned to face her, one golden eyebrow raised in almost haughty inquiry. He spun his quizzing glass on its ribbon as he waited.

“I know I am being terribly presumptuous in even addressing you, but, I—” She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. A slight hint of a smile pulled at Lord Lampton’s lips, and she relaxed a fraction. Layton looked terribly like that when he was holding back a smile. Maybe she wasn’t about to be eaten after all. “I . . . I have this . . . um, friend—No,” she quickly corrected. “Acquaintance, let’s say, who has this . . . problem . . .”

“Perhaps you ought to ask your employer for advice.” Lord Lampton watched her a little more closely.

“That would not be a good idea, my lord. Believe me.”

He chuckled lightly. “I believe you.” His eyes grew a little less cold. “So what is the problem this acquaintance of yours needs so desperately to have addressed?”

“This person is more an acquaintance of yours than mine,” Marion said, though she found the admission painful.

The smile disappeared from Lord Lampton’s face, and Marion saw, for the first time, a man she would be ill-advised to cross. Her heart suddenly began racing. You must do this, she reminded herself.

“This person has a problem, Lord Lampton.” She pushed the words out so quickly, she struggled to take in the air she needed. “I am not in a position to offer any help, but I know more of it than those who might be able to help him—this person, that is.” She looked up nervously. No longer the empty-headed dandy, Lord Lampton was all earl at the moment. Had she made a terrible mistake? Marion thought of Layton’s face, the agony she’d seen there when he’d related his difficult history. No. She had to help him.