Scandals of Lustful Ladies: A Historical Regency Romance Collection

by Meghan Sloan

  His mistress was French, and they had more liberal ideas about adulterous unions in that country, apart from the fact that he could simply be lying, claiming that they were legally wed. He was residing in a foreign country. How was anyone there to know if he and his mistress were married, or not?

  His eyes slid to the door, waiting for the moment when Frank Blackmore would breeze through it. But it remained firmly closed. He let out his breath, more relieved than he could say. Hopefully, if the man had decided to come, an ill wind had blown his ship off course, and he would be too late.

  ***

  Hetty’s voice was firm, if a little soft, as she related the background of her marriage.

  “I exchanged vows with Mr Frank Blackmore on April the second of this year,” she said slowly. “We were married in the parish of Alderbury, at St Peter’s church, in the village of Derrington, Wiltshire.”

  The bishop held a piece of parchment in his hand, studying it closely, before handing it to the colleague on his left. “Yes, the marriage document is in order,” he said crisply. “You then proceeded to your marital home, in the same village?”

  Hetty nodded. “We left the church and travelled to our newly purchased home,” she continued slowly. “The very next day, I awoke to find a note informing me that he was leaving me. He claimed that he had been having doubts for months and that he could not proceed with the marriage …”

  The bishop gazed at her steadily. “Do you still have this note?”

  Hetty looked dismayed. “No, my lord. In a fit of anger, I burnt it. I regret my haste.”

  The bishop smiled faintly. “Anger is never becoming in a woman, madam.” He paused. “Continue.”

  Hetty’s jaw tightened. “That same morning, I was visited by a solicitor, Mr Joseph Baldwin, who informed me that our home was sold, and had been for over a week, at least. I was told that I had no legal recourse and that I must vacate the house within fourteen days.” Her voice trembled slightly. “I believe that this act shows that my new husband intended to desert me, well before our wedding day. That he was only waiting for us to exchange vows before he did so.”

  “We shall be the judge of that, madam,” said the bishop curtly. “We are only interested in facts, at the moment. Please continue.”

  Hetty took a deep breath. “I was devastated, of course, and not sure how to proceed. I penned a letter to my parents, requesting assistance, and they came promptly.” She hesitated. “My father went to see the solicitor to confirm the sale of the property. He arranged disposal of the furniture. And then, they took me back to their home.”

  “Is this true, Mr Arnold?” The judge raised his eyebrows.

  “It is true, my lord,” said Hetty’s father, in a strained voice. “The sale of the property was watertight. There seemed nothing else for it but to dissolve the household and take my daughter back to our family home.”

  The bishop nodded. He picked up another piece of parchment, studying it intently. “I have a letter from Mr Joseph Baldwin, solicitor, confirming the sale of the property, and the date on which it occurred.” He looked up at them. “The date was indeed a week prior to your wedding day, Mrs Blackmore.”

  Louis felt elated. Frank Blackmore had overplayed his hand in that regard. In his haste to be gone from Hetty, and into his mistress’s arms, he had made a tactical error in selling off the property before their wedding day. Hopefully, he would live to regret it. It proved, in his opinion at least, that Blackmore had fully intended to desert her. Why else would he sell off their newly purchased home without another one waiting in the wings to take his wife to?

  The bishop looked grave. “This is, indeed, a dishonourable act on the part of Mr Blackmore,” he said slowly. “You assert that you did not know that the property had been sold before Mr Baldwin informed you of it?”

  Hetty shook her head. “None whatsoever, my lord. It was a shock to me. My husband never intimated it in the note that he left, nor did he speak of it to me prior.”

  “It is, of course, a gentleman’s right to sell off his own property,” piped up another judge. “He is under no legal obligation to inform his wife.”

  There was silence in the room. Hetty looked angry, but she managed to control it. Louis let out a breath in relief.

  “And you have had no correspondence from your husband since that day?” asked the bishop, his voice hard. “You have not been in contact with him at all?”

  “I received one letter,” said Hetty. “In it, he informed me that we could never be reconciled and that he is currently residing in France.” She took a deep, ragged breath. “He told me that he has a mistress, a Mademoiselle Amelie Marchand, and that he was involved with the lady the whole time that we were engaged. They are currently expecting a child.”

  The bishop raised his eyebrows. “I hope that you did not burn this letter, madam. Do you have it to present to the court?”

  Hetty nodded, passing the letter along until it reached the judges. The bishop read it thoroughly before passing it to his colleagues, who each read it in turn. The court was so quiet, Louis could almost hear his own breath coming in and out of his lungs.

  The bishop sighed deeply, staring at Hetty. “Madam, the fact that your husband has admitted his infidelity to you is not a gross impediment to the sanctity of your marriage.” He smiled condescendingly. “The church recognises that gentlemen often have mistresses and that their needs are stronger, in that regard …”

  Hetty’s blue eyes flashed with anger. “He has broken our marriage vows! He deserted me, to live with his mistress, and was fully intending to do so the whole time that we were betrothed to one another!” Her chest heaved. “He betrayed me, leaving me to disgrace, while he has set up a new home with another woman in another country. It is shameful!”

  Hetty’s father reached out a placating hand on her arm. He gazed at her, shaking his head. Mrs Arnold, who was seated on the other side, paled, looking as if she were about to faint clean away.

  “If your outburst is quite done, madam,” said the bishop coldly, “then I might continue, with what I was saying.” He paused. “While the court does not believe it to be a gross impediment, it does not condone it. The fact that your estranged husband admits that he shall never be reconciled with you does make for a stronger case, however.”

  “I should not be so concerned about the infidelity,” said another judge thoughtfully. “What I am concerned about is the fact it appears that he always intended to desert you. The sale of the property is proof of this, in my opinion. Mr Blackmore’s letter confirms that he has no intention to return to you, and take care of you, as a good and proper husband should. And as the gentleman himself is not here to put his side of the case, well …”

  Louis’s heart quickened as the judges conferred with each other, huddling in whispers. It was looking good. They had accepted that Blackmore was always intending to desert her and was not intending to return to his marriage.

  He glanced at Hetty. She was pale, so very pale, but her blue eyes were sparkling with sudden hope. Suddenly, she gazed back at him. His heart beat faster still. He could barely restrain himself from leaping into the air and hollering in triumph.

  She shouldn’t have confronted the judges about their flippant attitude towards her husband’s infidelity. She knew that they would have a casual approach to it; they had spoken about it often in the lead up to the hearing. That there was one rule for men, in that regard, and quite another, for a woman. No, it wasn’t fair, but it was the way of it, and confronting the judges about it would not accomplish anything and could, in fact, hinder her chances.

  But while the bishop had censured her about her outburst, it seemed that luck was on their side. They were not going to punish her for it. He switched his gaze back to them. They were still whispering. One judge was frowning, looking displeased. The others were trying to convince him of something. They went back and forth for several more minutes. Was it ever going to end?

  Abruptly, they disbanded.
The bishop cleared his throat. He turned to Hetty.

  “Mrs Blackmore,” he said slowly. “We have discussed what you have presented before us…”

  But before he could get any further, the door opened. A man stood there, dressed in sombre, dark clothes. Louis’s eyes widened as he studied him. Who was he?

  “Yes?” barked the bishop. “Who are you?”

  “My lord,” said the man, in a polished, calm voice. “My name is Mr Derrick Mitchell. I am a solicitor.” He took a deep breath. “I am representing Mr Frank Blackmore in this petition. And I think the court would be very interested to hear my client’s side of this.”

  Chapter 17

  Hetty felt her mouth drop open. She went cold all over as she stared at the man who had just walked through the door.

  She had been hoping and praying that Frank would not make an appearance. And it had seemed that her prayers had been answered in that regard. But now, his legal representative had just waltzed into the room, as cool as a cucumber, claiming that the court would like to hear Frank’s version of events that had led to his desertion of her.

  Suddenly, a wave of heat swept over her. A wave of anger, so intense that she wouldn’t have been surprised if she started to steam out of her nostrils, like a raging bull.

  He was a coward, through and through. He had decided that he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, face her in this court. Instead, he had sent a solicitor. It was not Mr Baldwin, who had negotiated the sale of their house, and was well acquainted with the weasel that her husband was. No, he had employed another man. A younger man, who looked so very slick and confident in what he was about to say.

  The bishop cleared his throat. “Mr Mitchell. We were wondering why Mr Blackmore had not seen fit, to be here …”

  “My client regretfully cannot attend today’s proceedings,” said the solicitor smoothly. “He was not given sufficient notice in which to book passage back to England. All of the ships sailing were full.” He paused. “He wrote to me, informing me in detail about what had happened within his marriage, and prior to it, that led him to the decision to leave his lawfully wedded wife. May I present this to the court?”

  The bishop nodded. “If you would, Mr Mitchell. We would like to hear Mr Blackmore’s side of it before we make a final decision.”

  The solicitor bowed, smiling. “Thank you, my lord.”

  Hetty glared at the man, whose eyes swept over her without even taking her in at all. He cleared his throat, producing a letter, which he tended to the court. As it was handed to the bishop, she could clearly see the familiar scrawl of Frank’s handwriting.

  The solicitor produced another letter from his pocket, unfolding it. “What I have presented to you, my lords is the original letter, which Mr. Frank Blackmore sent to me,” he said slowly. “I have copied it for my own perusal, so I may refer to it as I speak.”

  The bishop nodded. “Go on.”

  “Firstly, my client expresses his deep regret at any pain that he has caused Mrs Blackmore,” he said, frowning slightly. “He still holds her in regard, and does not wish to cause her distress, despite the extenuating circumstances that led to his desertion of her.” He paused dramatically. “He asserts that he has forgiven her, as a good Christian man should, but can no longer trust her …”

  Hetty’s head started to spin with horror. She felt herself sway. What on earth was Frank claiming? And how dare he say that he had forgiven her, when he was the one that had caused all of this pain and upheaval?

  The bishop was skimming the letter as the solicitor spoke. “Please continue, Mr Mitchell.”

  The solicitor stared down at the copy of the letter in his hand for a moment. He then raised his head, his eyes boring into Hetty. He sighed deeply, shaking his head.

  “There is nothing as detestable as an unchaste woman,” declared the solicitor in an almost regretful tone. “My client greatly admired his wife when he was first betrothed to her. And there is obviously much to admire. We can all see that she is a beautiful, well brought up young lady, from a proper home.” He paused. “Mr Blackmore had high hopes that she would be a good wife to him. But he had deep concerns about her throughout their engagement. He heard many rumours that she was behaving unchastely with other gentlemen …”

  Hetty stood up, her chest heaving. “That is a lie!”

  “Mrs Blackmore,” boomed the bishop, fixing her with a withering look. “Please, take your seat, and do not interrupt this court again.”

  Hetty sank down with her heart hammering. She felt so sick that she could barely breathe. Her father looked outraged, his lips thinned, but he said nothing. Her mother looked as shocked and sickened as she felt.

  She could feel Louis’s eyes on her, but she didn’t dare to look at him for fear of seeing confusion and revulsion in his face. That there might even be a shred of doubt about her, now, and that she had lied to him about her engagement and marriage.

  “Many people told him that Miss Arnold was running around behind his back,” continued Mr Mitchell, without a pause. “There were sightings of her with other gentlemen. Once, she was observed to be in a passionate embrace at a public gathering.” He sighed heavily. “But the worst was when he was told that she had been seen leaving a different gentleman’s chamber in the middle of the night, at a house party …”

  Hetty stifled a sob of pure rage. Her hands balled into fists. So, this was the tactic he had decided to take. To try to discredit her, smear her name in front of this court. That he had somehow been justified in deserting her.

  It wasn’t bad enough, what he had done to her, the shame and misery he had unleashed upon her. Now, he was grinding in his heel. He was determined that she be utterly destroyed so that he could walk away from this looking like the long-suffering fiancé and husband. So that he could smell of roses while she was crucified.

  And there was another reason, as well, of course. The money. If he could prove that he had been justified in abandoning her, that he had no choice, then her dowry would remain with him.

  She was simply amazed. It had never occurred to her that he might stoop to this level. That he might try to put the blame for all of this back on her by lying about what she had done and how she had behaved.

  He was crafty, and he was cunning. He would be very well aware that the Ecclesiastical court took a far grimmer view of a woman’s infidelity than that of a man’s. That he could perhaps get away with his glaring infidelity to her, while all he needed to do was suggest hers, and she would be blamed for all of it.

  And the worst of it was, she had to sit here and grit her teeth while he assassinated her character to the court. While he presented her as the whore of Babylon, a woman of insatiable sexual appetite, who had been unfaithful to him with not just one man, but several.

  “My client felt like he was trapped inside the engagement,” continued Mr Mitchell, sighing heavily. “He wanted to believe the best of Miss Arnold and ignored the rumours. He was fully committed to making her his wife, despite her rumoured dalliances with other gentlemen.” He paused, his eyes appealing, as he gazed at the judges. “He knew Miss Marchand, his current mistress, during his engagement to Miss Arnold but swears they did not have a physical relationship during that time. However, he would often confide in her, his concerns, about Miss Arnold, and her impropriety. He started to fall in love with Miss Marchand but felt honour bound to marry Miss Arnold …”

  Hetty’s chest was so tight that she could barely breathe. The solicitor was doing a superlative job of presenting Frank as the hard done by, long-suffering fiancé, who only turned to his mistress for comfort.

  “These are very serious allegations, indeed,” said the bishop, looking appalled. “For as it says in the Proverbs: ‘a prostitute is a deep pit, and an adulteress is a narrow well.’” He paused, gazing at the solicitor. “Your client writes fluently about these rumours surrounding Miss Arnold prior to their marriage. But do you have any evidence that she did these things?”