Title Sinful Tales of Desirable Ladies

by Lucinda Nelson

  Loraine liked them too. American women were exciting. Less bound by regulation, tradition and custom than the British. They wouldn’t balk at the prospect of riding in the rain, laughing in a storm or wild swimming in a waterfall.

  They were Loraine’s kind of people, and she became very close to many of them as she moved from state to state. But no matter how many friends she made, she missed home.

  She even missed Aunt Esther. Loraine often thought of the card games they’d play every evening, and she’d feel a sharp pang in her chest. Her aunt’s insistence on playing every night had exasperated Loraine, but now she wanted nothing more than to play a game with her aunt.

  Philip.

  Even when Loraine was busy making friends, even when she was thinking of how much she missed Mrs. Barrow and Aunt Esther, he was still there in her mind. He was this background noise she couldn’t silence.

  Loraine didn’t lack attention from gentlemen in America. On the contrary, they loved her accent, her cleverness and her forthrightness.

  But every time one approached her, Loraine didn’t even entertain the idea of a conversation. She’d always politely excuse herself, whenever she could, to get out of talking to a man.

  She’d already gone down that road, and it had left her practically broken. Practically, but not quite. Though she’d never felt suffering like this before, Loraine wouldn’t let it crumple her.

  She told herself that she would prevail over the pain, because the thought that she might not was unbearable.

  So Loraine did her best to forget about Philip. She pushed him to the far corner of her mind, which was only afforded free reign in her dreams.

  Chapter 33

  Lord Philip Everton, Marquess of Blackhill

  After his hostile discussion with Lady Esther, which ended with the door being slammed in his face, Philip had gone to Theodore’s.

  When Theodore opened the door, Philip looked like a shell of a man. His expression was empty and bereft of all feeling.

  “What are you doing here?” Theodore said, stiffly.

  “You were right,” Philip muttered.

  Theodore looked dubious. “About what?”

  “About her.” Philip didn’t wait to be invited inside. He passed Theodore and went straight for the liquor cabinet.

  He pulled out a bottle of whiskey, uncorked it with his teeth and poured himself a hefty glass. “She’s done with me.”

  “What happened?” Theodore asked, as he came to stand beside him. He was watching Philip fill up the glass right to the rim, with a frown.

  “She left,” Philip said. He took a big swig of the whiskey and enjoyed the burn in his throat. “She just left, without any word.”

  “Perhaps she went to Paris again,” Theodore noted.

  Philip shook his head with a bitter, miserable smile. “I thought the same thing. But I spoke to her aunt.”

  “And what did she tell you?”

  Philip finished his glass in a matter of moments. He hissed when the burn became too much. “The truth,” he concluded.

  Philip went on to tell Theodore what Lady Esther had told him. That Loraine’s supposed interest in him had all been a rouse to punish him. Of course, he wasn’t blind to the perfect justice of that. Having been playing his own game, he knew that he had no right to feel so heartbroken.

  But what had started as a game for him had become so much more.

  Clearly the same could not be said for her.

  With Loraine gone, Philip turned to drinking again, but more heavily than ever before.

  There was seldom a moment in the day that he wasn’t drunk. It became such a problem over the weeks that when he bumped into his father in the hallway, he almost fell flat on his backside.

  His father caught him by the arm when he staggered, with a deep frown on his face. “What the devil is the matter with you?” His father asked, incredulously.

  “Nothing,” Philip slurred.

  His father released him, visibly shocked. “Are you drunk?”

  “No,” Philip answered, though he was barely managing to focus on his father’s face.

  “I can smell the whiskey on you.”

  Philip tried to pass him, but his father grabbed him by the shoulder and looked him in the eye. “It’s the middle of the day, Philip. Get a hold of yourself.”

  His father released him, shaking his head, and allowed Philip to pass.

  Philip thought about this encounter for a few minutes, before the alcohol pushed it out of his head. It was difficult to think about anything for a prolonged stretch of time when he was intoxicated, but there was one thing that continued to come back to him again and again.

  Loraine.

  It was Loraine who kept him drinking, because every time he found himself thinking about her, he poured himself another glass. At first, this seemed to please Theodore, who wasn’t angry at him anymore, but felt like he had his friend back.

  For the first week, Theodore was thrilled. He took Philip out to his favorite taverns and paid for all his drinks. They would gambled all night long until their pockets were empty.

  But as time passed, Theodore became less enthusiastic about the revival of their old habits. Philip would often wind up vomiting from how much he’d drunk, or passing out in places other than his bed. The more this happened, the more concerned Theodore became.

  This was a concern that Bradley expressed right from day one. “He just doesn’t seem like himself,” Bradley observed, while Philip downed another glass of brandy.

  “He’s never been more like himself!” Theodore insisted, with a broad smile. “Look at him. He’s having fun again.”

  Bradley’s expression was uncertain, but he didn’t argue the point.

  Philip pretended he couldn’t hear them.

  One afternoon, Theodore found Philip passed out in his drawing room. “I thought you’d gone home?” Theodore said.

  Philip woke groggily and rubbed at his eyes, which were ringed in purple from tiredness. “I thought it would be easier to stay here in the end,” Philip mumbled. His voice had an empty quality to it, as it always seemed to nowadays.

  He had a terrible headache, which made him wince. When he got up and went to the liquor cabinet, even Theodore was horrified. “It’s noon…” he balked. “And you just woke up.”

  Philip shrugged as he poured himself a glass. “It helps with the hangover.”

  Theodore came over and snatched the glass from him. “It helps because you stay drunk,” Theodore reminded him. “You need to go home and sleep it off.”

  What he needed was to keep the pain out. And this was the only way he knew how to.

  Chapter 34

  Lord Theodore Brand, Marquess of Bantry

  Theodore had missed his friend. He’d been so afraid of losing him to a woman, and had been relieved to find out that Loraine was no longer in the picture. He’d wanted to celebrate, but had soon realized that he didn’t have cause to.

  Philip was miserable, which became clearer to Theodore with every day that passed. Though they drank and gambled, which used to bring them such pleasure, Philip did so in a daze. He didn’t seem to enjoy it. Instead, it seemed like more of a necessity for him. In fact, whenever he wasn’t drinking Philip looked anxious and unsettled.

  After a few weeks, Theodore’s joy at being reunited with his friend had dried up. And all that was left was a feeling of dread and sadness. Seeing his closest friend suffer didn’t make him happy.

  He began to wonder if perhaps there was more to Miss Beauchamp than he initially thought. That didn’t mean he liked her.

  Not by a long stretch. Though she’d certainly been impressive when they’d met, he refused to shake off his awareness of what she’d done to Edgar.

  That wouldn’t change. But Theodore could, at the very least, help Philip gain some closure. That was the problem. Philip was miserable because Miss Beauchamp had disappeared without a word. Perhaps that was something he could rectify.

  Hav
ing sent Philip home to sleep off the hangover, Theodore went to the Beauchamp estate. He knocked on the door, but just as Philip said, no one answered.

  Theodore took a step back and looked up at the house. He could see a woman peeking out at him through the drawing room window.

  She was relatively elderly, and she had a strange manic look in her eye.

  He waved and inclined his head, then stepped back up to the door and knocked again. This time, the woman came, presumably because she had realized that he wasn’t Philip.

  She cracked the door and put one eye against the opening, peering at him. “Who are you?” She said, warily.

  “Good day to you, ma’am. I am a friend of Lord Blackhill’s.”

  The woman grimaced and started to shut the door. Before she could, Theodore slid his foot into the opening, keeping it wedged open.

  She balked down at the intrusion and tried to slam the door again. “That rather hurts,” Theodore remarked, calmly. “My name is Lord Theodore Brand. You must be Lady Esther.”

  “Nobody in this household wishes to hear from Lord Blackhill. I thought I made that clear.”

  “You made it quite clear,” Theodore agreed. “And trust that I would be happy to never hear from anyone in this household again. But unfortunately, given my friend’s current condition, I’m not in a position to be picky about who I talk to. I would like to know the whereabouts of Miss Beauchamp.”

  “I don’t know where she is,” Lady Esther hissed at him, with such vigor that Theodore almost believed her. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. I don’t care if his ego is stung.”

  “His ego?” Theodore retorted. “Lady Esther, whether you care to believe it or not, Philip seems to have fallen quite in love with Miss Beauchamp. Now, I do not believe that Miss Beauchamp deserves him by any stretch of the imagination, but I do believe that my friend needs closure in order to recover from her loss.”

  Lady Esther opened the door very suddenly and balked at him with utter astonishment. “Excuse me? What did you just say?”

  “I said that my friend needs closure.”

  “Before that. Did you say that she doesn’t deserve him?”

  Theodore sighed impatiently. “I won’t quibble with you over that, Lady Esther. I have just come for information.”

  Lady Esther looked thoroughly disgusted by him. She slammed the door in his face with a throaty noise of absolute derision.

  With the door closed, Theodore expelled a breath of annoyance. He shook his head and went home, wondering what more he could do. What could be said to a woman so unreasonable, who balked in the face of good sense?

  And then it occurred to him. What kind of man would be able to prevail over such a woman? He knew one such man.

  Theodore did not go back home, but went to the Everton estate instead. He met with George in the drawing room. “I’m sorry to say that Philip is not well,” George said, after they greeted one another.

  It was a gracious remark, because they both knew that Philip wasn’t sick.

  “You mean he’s drunk still.”

  George hesitated, then nodded awkwardly. He looked terribly sad.

  “I may have a remedy for that,” Theodore said.

  This brightened George’s countenance. He leaned forwards in his seat and said, “Oh, I do hope it succeeds. My worry for him increases daily.”

  “I believe that what Philip needs is some degree of closure,” Theodore said, leaning forwards himself. “He needs to have some contact with Loraine, so that they can argue it out. Replace this sadness with righteous anger.”

  George was clearly unsure of this strategy. His brow puckered a little.

  “You do not seem convinced,” Theodore observed, disappointedly.

  “I will admit that while I find his misery unbearable to bear witness to, I am not sure anger is a suitable replacement for it. He has been angry for a long time, Theodore.”

  “And was he not happy?” Theodore said this emphatically, as though he expected the answer to be obvious. As though he anticipated wholehearted agreement.

  But George’s countenance was grim and despondent. “I do not think so.”

  Theodore’s body slackened back into his seat and he expelled a hefty breath. “We’ve had adventures,” Theodore argued. “If you’d seen him-”

  “I have seen him,” George interjected. “I’ve seen him drunk. I’ve seen him gambling. I’ve seen him laughing and acting like a child. But living outside of the rules isn’t the same as freedom.”

  George stood and started pacing slowly, with his hands behind his back. “Philip’s life has been stagnant ever since our mother passed, because he’s been running from misery all this time. I do not think encouraging him to run again is the best course of action.”

  “Then what is?” Theodore retorted, almost angrily. But he wasn’t really angry at George. He was angry at the prospect that Philip had been miserable all this time… and Theodore hadn’t noticed. He didn’t want to believe it.

  “Please do not think my disagreement callous,” George said, softly.

  As if Theodore could ever believe George to be callous about anything. “I believe you may be right about one thing. He needs to establish contact with her.”

  “To what end, if not anger?”

  “From what I hear of Miss Beauchamp, she is a reasonable woman. I do not believe she meant to hurt him. Perhaps she can afford him some clarity.”

  Theodore laughed bitterly. “Then you do not know the truth.”

  George frowned at Theodore, but there was a tenderness in his expression. “I know you miss Edgar, Theodore,” George murmured.

  Theodore blinked rapidly, as though he’d been slapped, and fell silent.

  “But Philip would not have fallen in love with a woman who was not good-hearted.”

  “He has fallen under her spell.”

  George shook his head. “Philip is not the sort of man to fall under anyone’s spell, Theodore. In fact, he has been the one conjuring spells for most of his life. If you put your anger aside and take a moment to consider that, you’d know it to be true. Women have been trying to capture his heart ever since he was of age. Why should this one prevail?”

  “She prevailed over Edgar!”

  George sighed softly. “Edgar was a tender soul. He was not like Philip, and Miss Beauchamp was not the first woman he fell for. But for Philip, Miss Beauchamp is the first.”

  Theodore wanted to argue, but he didn’t know what to say.

  “There is no spell,” George murmured, after several moments of silence. “We must assume that Miss Beauchamp is kind, until proven otherwise.”

  Theodore opened his mouth to speak, but George put his hand up to silent him. “Until proven otherwise. Assumption is not proof. But Philip’s love is. If she was worth him falling in love with her, then there must be something to her.”

  George let this sink in.

  After several seconds, Theodore spoke again. “You may be right, or you may be wrong. But we seem to be in agreement that contact should be re-established.”

  George nodded and stopped pacing. “But Lady Esther will not allow it, will she?”

  “I am beginning to think that she may not actually know where Miss Beauchamp is,” Theodore admitted.

  George frowned. “Would that not be rather peculiar?”

  Theodore nodded. “But she must know something that might assist us in hunting Miss Beauchamp down.”

  George’s disapproving look made it clear that he did not like that phrase, but he didn’t reprimand Theodore for it.

  “But Philip has already tried to speak to her. She will not see him.”

  “She will not see me either,” Theodore replied. “But I believe that there may be one man she will see.”

  It took George a moment before he realized what Theodore was implying. “Why me?” He asked, perplexed.

  “You are a priest,” Theodore said. He stood and gestured to George’s clothes. “Wear your cassoc
k and pay her a visit. She won’t be able to refuse you.”

  George mulled this over. Theodore watched his expression expectantly, until George started to smile. “Now that is not a bad idea.”

  “Yes, father!”

  Theodore clapped George on the back and they both grinned.