The Resurrection of Lady Ramsleigh

by Bowlin, Chasity

  Having retreated to her room, Viola sat at her dressing table, her palms sweaty and her hands trembling. Why it should matter after so long, when he’d done nothing save prove her worst suspicions of him, she could not say. Perhaps, it was the permanency of having him deny her face to face. Regardless, she was in an ill humor and fit company for no one. It was that feeling which prompted her heavy sigh when a knock sounded on her door. No doubt, it was Lady Agatha there to fuss over her once more or, perhaps, Lady Beatrice to inquire politely if she needed anything. Either way, she found her nerves less then settled at the prospect of entertaining anyone.

  “I’m fine, Lady Agatha. I’m only tired from the excitement,” she called out. It was impossibly rude but she didn’t have it in her to be anything else.

  The door swung inward and Nicholas stood there, leaning nonchalantly against the frame. When did I begin to think of him as Nicholas rather than Dr. Warner? Recognizing just what a terrible sign that was in regards to her own mindset and ability to resist temptation, Viola stiffened her spine and prepared to give him a set down. Lady Agatha’s assurances aside, she would not risk denying her son his birthright just to indulge her own base nature.

  “You’re making yourself quite free with my private chamber, Dr. Warner.”

  “So I am. I understand you had an unexpected and decidedly unpleasant visitor today,” he stated, not even bothering to couch it as a question.

  “I see I have been the topic of much conversation already. Yes, my father came to call. Yes, he was unpleasant. No, I had not anticipated his visit or that should he choose to make one, it would be a pleasant affair. He was precisely as he has always been—cold, cruel, and self-serving.”

  He entered the room fully then, closing the door behind him. She was no longer his patient. It was decidedly improper. And against her better judgement and reason, it was impossibly exciting. “What do you think you are doing?” Viola demanded, more for show than out of any real protest.

  “I am hiding,” he said succinctly. “You are not the only person who has unwanted family dropping by.”

  She frowned at that. “I thought you did not have a family.”

  “Oddly enough, I had thought much the same. It appears my father—producer of many bastards, I fear—has shuffled off his mortal coil. Now, my half-brother feels compelled to hunt us all down and try to have relationships with us. God forbid!”

  Viola found his answer very strange, indeed. Having been an only child herself, she had longed for siblings. “Unless he is unkind, why would you not wish to develop a relationship with him? My family has disavowed me entirely. My father only came here to scold me for bothering to return and ruffling the pretty bed of lies he’s laid out for everyone. Your family is actually desirous of your company!”

  “Now they are. They have never been in the past. When I was a young man, alone in the world, my father bought me a commission in the Royal Navy and sent me off to what was surely supposed to be my death. I survived by mere chance. Afterward, he paid for my medical training. All of this was accomplished without us ever meeting face to face. I find it difficult to account that my half-brother never knew I existed… and even so, we are grown men now. The time for filial bonding has passed, I think.”

  Viola took note of several things. His easy manner was not so easy now. Oh, he lounged in his chair as if he hadn’t a care in the world. But there was a tension in him, a tightness about his eyes and a firmness in his jaw that she had not seen previously. As she’d made a rather particular study of his face over the past few days, even such slight changes were more than obvious to her.

  “It hurt you that he never bothered to know you or to see all you had accomplished,” she surmised.

  He scoffed at that, offering a sharp bark of laughter. “I had never expected any better from him. How could it hurt? He has never hurt me, but he did hurt my mother very gravely, indeed, I think.”

  “How so?” she asked, curious at this side of him. She had sensed from the beginning that there were hidden depths to the good doctor, concealed beneath his charming facade and easy manner. But this was her first glimpse of them.

  “My mother was an actress, at best. At the very least, that is what she called herself. It might have been true, I suppose, or had been at one point. However it began, when her life ended she was a demirep. Of course, I did not bear witness to this. I learned it from the family who raised me, chosen by my father and tenants on his lands. Is it my turn to have shocked you, Viola?”

  “No. I am not shocked. But I am to assume that you meant for me to be?” Nicholas did not answer that accusation. So she continued, “I have inferred from the way you speak of her that your mother met a tragic end?”

  He shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt that he wanted nothing to do with me. It did hurt, however, to learn the truth about her. According to those acquaintances of hers I could track down, she mourned for him and his negligence until the day she died. A paltry list of protectors, if that is what they were, filled the years for her in between her liaison with my father and her untimely death. But she never loved them, as I was told.”

  “But she did love him?”

  He grew quiet, thoughtful, and answered softly. “No. One of her friends had kept a box of my mother’s letters and journals. I read them, much to my own discomfort. She obsessed about him. She constantly ruminated over his rejection of her. He ruined her life, but only because she permitted him to.”

  “Then why are you avoiding a brother who clearly wishes to lay the past to rest? What possible harm could come from at least ascertaining why he has sought you out?”

  Nicholas frowned thoughtfully for a moment, and when he met her gaze again, it was with a challenging proposition. “I will entertain my half-brother and determine why he has come here, if you will dress and join us for dinner below stairs instead of hiding up here like a whipped dog because your father dared show his face.”

  “You mistake me, Dr. Warner. That is not what I am doing at all!” The denial was hot on her lips. It was also a blatant lie. “But if that is what is required to compel you to stop behaving like a petulant child, I will gladly do so!”

  “Let us both dress for dinner and I will see you downstairs,” he offered, his tone no less challenging than before although he had already secured her agreement.

  “Very well. I shall see you at dinner… and not a moment before.”

  *

  Nicholas had dressed for dinner as they agreed. As he approached the drawing room, he heard voices inside and knew that his half-brother was charming Lady Agatha handily if her peals of laughter were any indication.

  He would admit, to himself at least, that there had been some truth to Viola’s accusations. He was hiding from his half-brother and there might be some degree of petulance involved. Where had his family been for all of his life after all, aside from noticeably absent? There had never been any hint of familial concern from his father. The man had, at best, ensured Nicholas’ ability to support himself and nothing more. It was hardly a ringing endorsement of his paternal nature though even Nicholas would admit that it was far more than many men did for their bastard children.

  Taking a deep and fortifying breath, he entered the drawing room and noted that conversation stopped immediately. It was all curious stares and expectation.

  “I’m glad you could join us, Doctor,” Lady Agatha said after a long pause. “You are always such delightful company.”

  “It appears someone is already providing delightful company for you, Lady Agatha. You are positively radiant with it… I’ll allow him to continue entertaining you until you grow tired of his company and break his heart as you do all young men’s,” he answered smoothly.

  “If you’d forgive me, Lady Agatha, for deserting you so quickly… I’d like to have a private word with Dr. Warner,” Lord Ambrose stated. His tone was mild and his expression inscrutable, leaving Nicholas to wonder what on earth their private conversation could be about.

&
nbsp; “Certainly, Lord Ambrose. The morning room is just at the back of the corridor,” Lady Agatha offered. “I’m certain it will suffice for your needs if you are agreeable.”

  “Quite agreeable, Lady Agatha,” Ambrose replied as he rose from the settee he had been occupying next to her. “Dr. Warner, you are more familiar with the house than I am. If you’d be so kind as to lead the way?”

  “Follow me,” Nicholas replied. He nodded to Lady Agatha and Christopher. Graham, Beatrice and Viola had yet to come down. Exiting the drawing room, he walked the short distance to the doorway to the morning room and waited there for Lord Ambrose. When the man had neared, Nicholas opened the door and stepped inside.

  Once the door closed, Nicholas decided to beard the lion in his den so to speak. “I’ve no need of familial connections now, nor am I entirely certain I want them. I don’t know why it is that you’ve come, but I think you may be very disappointed in the outcome.”

  Lord Ambrose cocked his head to one side as if considering Nicholas’ words carefully. When he finally spoke, his tone was mild and his words well measured. “I did not seek you out, Doctor, because I thought I might have something you needed. I sought you out because I thought, perhaps, I needed a connection to what was left of my family… even if they were strangers. You are not my father’s only by-blow. And I apologize for the use of that term as I myself find it offensive, but there are only so many terms available and many of them are much worse.”

  “Bastard you mean?” Nicholas queried.

  “Just so. Regardless of the marital status of your parents at birth, we do share blood, Dr. Warner… I find myself, having lost our father—worthless as he was—feeling somewhat adrift with no other family to call my own. I am slowly searching out all of the siblings that I can. There are others still that we may never know of,” Ambrose admitted. “Father enjoyed women, but to my knowledge never loved any of them. To that end, fidelity was not to be found in either his nature or his behavior.”

  “And you elected to start with me first? To what do I owe that dubious honor?” Nicholas asked caustically.

  Lord Ambrose walked to the window and looked out at the sea beyond the cliffs. There was just enough light left for it to be a truly beautiful sight. “Father made note of your accomplishments. While he might not have been attentive and certainly could not be considered a worthy parent, he did take a measure of pride in how well you availed yourself during your time in the military and your accomplishments since. I suppose you were the easiest to locate. I found your direction without difficulty.”

  “What is it that you really want? Other than to say you’ve done your familial duty?”

  Lord Ambrose turned back to him. “Is it so difficult to imagine that I might simply want to know my half-brother?”

  “Yes,” Nicholas replied. “It is. For over three decades, not a single member of my father’s family, my father included, could be bothered with me. To say that your decision to approach the matter of my somewhat embarrassing birth in an entirely different manner is surprising would be the understatement of the century.”

  Lord Ambrose shrugged. “Father died in a somewhat scandalous manner. We are not impoverished, but our coffers are certainly not as plump as they once were. He gambled heavily, whored with abandon, and ultimately lost his life in a duel with another gentleman whose wife he had not only seduced, but left to bear a child that clearly could not belong to her husband who was in the East Indies for more than a year prior to the birth. He killed the poor bastard, then had the decency to kill himself rather than face the ruin he’d wrought. His actions have left me a social pariah. An object of scandal and ridicule. There is nothing in the edicts of society so unforgivable as to allow oneself to fall into poverty and behave so recklessly in the doing.”

  “Invite a passel of ill-born bastards into that lovely townhouse in Mayfair and you may find out that there are things more unforgivable,” Nicholas replied snappily. “So you have nothing to lose?”

  “And a family to gain. Why shouldn’t I?” Lord Ambrose asked, his tone challenging. “Our youngest sibling, a sister by the way… is tucked away at one of the few remaining country estates, being tended by a governess as her own mother has no interest in seeing to the child.”

  Nicholas shook his head. “Have you considered that perhaps you might be better off not finding some of these wayward siblings? Infants aside, of course, a good number of them will likely be reprobates as our illustrious father was… and if you’re as impoverished as you say, what on earth can you do for them other than to give them expectations of improved standing that cannot be delivered upon?”

  “I can help them to find positions, I can write letters of recommendation… there are a great many things that having a title and connections can offer that even money cannot. And you can help, Dr. Warner. After all, you are proof that it is possible to escape the wastrel tendencies and the taint of self-indulgence that most believe is in our blood.”

  “You want me to help you with this… this impossibly foolish pursuit?”

  Lord Ambrose shrugged. “I want to get to know you as my brother and vice versa. That is all. If you elect to go on this journey with me to locate the other siblings we may have, so be it. But an opportunity to establish a relationship as brothers is all I ask.”

  Nicholas was skeptical to say the least, but while his feelings toward his father were complicated, he had no quarrel with the current Lord Ambrose. It would be petty and churlish to refuse the man’s acquaintance, regardless of what sort of relationship they might actually develop. Sibling relationships were forged in the fires of childhood, in shared play and escapades. It was something they were both far beyond. But he needed allies. More importantly, Viola needed allies. Ambrose provided an entry into that world, scandal ridden though he might be. Graham had a title but he did not have the connections in society that would allow Viola to resume her rightful place and effectively challenge her late husband’s fraudulent report of her death. So he would refrain from judgment for the time being and would tolerate Ambrose’s attempts to build familial bonds.

  “What do you know of Lord Ramsleigh?” Nicholas asked.

  “Current or former?” Ambrose replied. “Though to be fair, most of what I know could easily be applied to either. Bounders through and through. Debauched reprobates that caused even our father to raise an eyebrow.”

  “How much of a threat is he to Lady Ramsleigh?”

  Ambrose shrugged again. “A better question might be how much of a threat Lady Ramsleigh poses to him. If her return jeopardizes his fortunes, then I would say there is very little he would not do to mitigate that threat.”

  “And her father? Daventry? What of him?”

  Ambrose considered the question for a moment. “He’s a bit of a mystery to be sure. But the man is cold… not just aloof or distant, but cold to the bone. I doubt he’d dirty his hands to harm her himself, but I would not expect him to intervene on her behalf. Ever.”

  Nicholas nodded. “It’s all rather as I thought then.”

  “What, precisely, is your relationship with the recently resurrected Lady Ramsleigh? I would hazard that you are going above and beyond your duties as her physician.”

  “We are friends,” Nicholas answered.

  “If I recall, she is quite beautiful. Just friends, you say?”

  “Do not,” Nicholas warned. “We are friends because that is all the lady desires at this time. You’ll keep your hands and your flirtations to yourself.”

  “Or?”

  “Or we’ll do what brothers have done since the dawn of time… fight.” The warning was uttered more fiercely than was necessary. But it was his half-brother’s answering grin that told him precisely how much he’d given away. Nicholas cursed under his breath. “This is a delicate situation.”

  “Is there another kind when beautiful women are involved?”

  Chapter Nine

  Ramsleigh refilled his glass and drank deeply. The brandy had
ceased to burn ages ago. Its purpose was to maintain the liquid languor in his limbs and the soft buzzing in his mind. On the bed, the woman stirred. She wasn’t his usual sort at all. Rather than a frightened maid or the hardened prostitutes that worked at his brothels of choice, she was a widow. Fairly respected in the community, she’d never have dared speak to him in public. But they’d reached an understanding at a house party not long ago. The arrangement suited them. They’d take their pleasure with one another, though it was a more tame pursuit for him than for her. Still, he’d pushed her that night, been far rougher with her than he had in the past. More to the point, she hadn’t minded. The harsher he’d been the harder her nails had dug into his shoulders and the tighter her thighs had gripped him. In all, it served to underscore the tenet he’d lived by—at their heart, all women were little better than whores.

  A knock on the door had her stirring. Ramsleigh frowned. His staff knew better than to disturb him when he was entertaining. Opening the door, he met the dour face of his butler. “What is it?”

  “Forgive me, my lord. Mr. Daventry is below and is quite insistent that he see you immediately.”

  “I’m not at his beck and call, am I?” Ramsleigh snapped.

  “Randall, is something wrong, darling?”

  He looked back at the gloriously naked woman sitting up in his bed. Her full breasts still bore the red marks from his beard and, no doubt, a few bite marks would bloom on her fair skin before the night was through. She was heedless of her nudity even as the butler averted his gaze. Randall watched her lips quirk at the servant’s discomfiture. Despite her demure public persona, she was every bit as perverse a creature as he. “Everything is fine, my dear. Just a matter I have to attend to… a brief matter. I’ll return to you shortly.”

  “Very shortly… I have need of you,” she cooed.