Simon felt the sweat between his shoulder blades. “I can.”
“When you are in the dream, do you know it is a dream?”
“I assure you if I did, then I would not be trying to strangle my wife.”
The practitioner’s eyes widened slightly, then he nodded.
“That is what we must work on then. We must make your brain understand you are in a dream. As soon as you are able to do that, then you will be in control.”
Simon took in the man’s words, and finally, he sat down again. The chair didn’t seem quite as uncomfortable.
“How do I do that?”
“I will help you. We will find the cues that indicate a dream because they do not match up to what you know is reality. There will be some, I assure you, and when you see them, you must recognize them. Even if you cannot wake yourself immediately, you must not try to kill the guard.”
“I must not kill the guard,” Simon repeated doubtfully.
Holtzenhelm nodded. “I will help you.”
*
Jenny threw herself into the spirit of the winter festivals and the jubilant parties that were being thrown all around her. Though it was inappropriate to host anything herself with her new husband away, her mother wouldn’t let her brood indoors.
“Tonight is the party at Lady Atwood’s,” Lady Blackwood reminded her.
Jenny grimaced. “And then some clever clogs will insist on a reading of Dickens’s work. Because how very unusual and unexpected!”
Maggie laughed as she did a lot lately, obviously happy to be in London once more. “Gracious, I can’t take that story one more time this month!”
“Even I am growing weary of Mr. Dickens’s Christmas tale,” Eleanor chimed in, “and I truly think it is very fanciful and well told. Anyway, I’m pleased I am permitted to attend.”
“And Lord Cambrey’s cousin will be there,” Maggie added, making Jenny smile. Both the earl and his young cousin, Beryl, were keeping her two sisters occupied and happy, though for quite different reasons.
Jenny wished she could ask Simon more about Lord Cambrey his nature, and his possible intentions toward Maggie. Did the man treat women’s hearts frivolously or with care? Had he many attachments in the past? How about currently? And what were the state of his finances and holdings?
Sighing, she looked around the sumptuous drawing room that was now hers, filled with her own family. Look how far they’d come from having to sell their own home and head for the country, facing permanent banishment. Yet here they were, preparing for a Season, enjoying an event-filled Christmas, reconnecting with old acquaintances. Still, she felt the yawning gap of loneliness.
*
The music ended with a perfectly delightful rendition of de Pearsall’s “Lay a Garland,” and then their hostess, still clapping for the pianist and the singer, stood before the crowd.
“I have a special treat,” she announced. “Lady Elizabeth Benchley, a friend to Mr. Dickens himself, will read stave one and stave five of A Christmas Carol. Isn’t that splendid?”
This was greeted with rousing applause, though Jenny suspected, it was made warmer by the appearance of nearly a dozen servants carrying trays with goblets of fizzy drinks and sweetmeats.
She stood. “I’m going to take a stroll and see the paintings in the gallery. Would anyone care to join me?”
Her mother shook her head. “I’ve promised Lady Delia that I shall go over the midweek carnival entertainment for Argyll House. Do you mind, dear?”
“Not at all,” Jenny said. Eleanor had her head together with her new friend, Beryl, and for an instant, she wondered if Ned and Maisie would be attending the Season. That could be awkward, indeed.
Maggie stood beside her. Ah, here was company at last, but her sister looked right past her with that beatific smile that could only mean one thing—Lord Cambrey was close by.
Without even answering Jenny’s invitation for a stroll, Maggie sighed.
“Isn’t he handsome?” And with that utterance, she pushed past Jenny, who turned to see … well! Not Lord Cambrey but another young eligible bent over Maggie’s hand and brought it to his lips.
Despite the momentary shock that Maggie already had another suitor, Jenny realized it was sensible for her sister not to get too attached to any man yet. This young man, not too tall but well dressed, invited Maggie to accompany him to the refreshment table for a lemonade.
So romantic. And so public! Jenny had almost forgotten how every single moment one spent with the opposite sex was on display for all to witness. How unlike her own hasty and private courting. Why, no one except Cambrey had even seen her and Simon together, except for Crocky and the strangers at Vauxhall.
For all anyone knew, she wasn’t the Countess of Lindsey at all but a squatter who’d taken up residence in the Devere townhouse.
Turning away from the scene of her sister’s starry-eyed encounter, she followed a flow of people between one room and the next. Behind her, she heard Lady Benchley begin the story in an exaggerated manner that grated upon Jenny’s nerves.
“Marley was dead to begin with.”
In a few minutes, she found herself in a long hallway enjoying a collection of massive landscapes, beautifully set in matching gilded frames. One looked as if it could have been painted near Belton Park. Backing up a few steps, she stared longingly at the countryside, recalling the many times Simon had caught her alone and made love to her, either with passionate kissing or something even bolder. Did he miss her presence as she did his?
“Miss Blackwood, is it you?”
Turning, she encountered Viscount Alder, her once-fiancé. For the briefest moment, a frisson of nerves danced through her. How she wished Simon were by her side to show this man someone else had found her worthy of giving her his name.
Many women would give him the cut direct and walk away. Rightly so, too. Yet, she had never been the type for such rudeness.
“My lord,” she greeted, not curtsying. She would be damned if she’d lower herself an inch in presence. “However, I am Lady Lindsey now.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I heard rumor you had married.”
“More than a rumor,” Jenny said, feeling the heat bloom on her cheeks.
“Congratulations,” he said. “And apparently, marriage suits you well. You look stunning.”
Did she? She wondered at his gentle manner and his sweet compliment. True, he had been that way during their brief association. However, given the way in which he had ruthlessly cast her off, she’d thought to encounter a different Michael Alder if ever they met again.
“I had not heard you’d returned to London,” he added.
Perhaps suddenly considering the matter, Viscount Alder glanced around them as if expecting Simon to pop out from behind the long draperies.
“Will I have the honor of greeting Lord Lindsey this evening?”
“He has not come to London,” Jenny admitted, keeping her tone neutral. “He had business to attend elsewhere.”
The viscount’s eyebrows raised almost into his hairline. “A strange time to do business,” he said. “What with a new wife and it being nearly Christmas.”
She shrugged, offering him no more information, letting her eyes wander back to the painting.
“Will he join you soon?” Lord Alder asked.
“Mm,” Jenny murmured noncommittally. Why on earth did it matter to the infernal man?
Alder drew a step closer. “I am glad we have run into each other if for no other reason than so I can offer you my sincerest apology.”
That caught her attention. She stared at him. Her former beau looked a little older in only a year. No doubt, after all that had happened, she did, too. Yet there was a sadness to his eyes that had not been there before, a strained look causing slight creases in his forehead.
“Are you well?” she heard herself asking though she didn’t know why she should have any sympathy toward him.
At her words, his face relaxed, and he actua
lly gave her the slightest of smiles. Maggie had been wrong. His lips looked fine to her. Not nearly as handsome as Simon’s but passingly pleasing, all the same.
“Thank you for asking,” Alder replied. “I don’t deserve your kindness, I know that. In any case, there have been complications in my life with which I won’t bore you. Perhaps some time, we may take a stroll around the park as old friends and talk. Married ladies have more freedom, nearly like men. Have you discovered that?”
Jenny perceived nothing nefarious in his words.
“What a peculiar thing to say, but yes, I know what you mean.”
“I always admired you,” he blurted.
Oh, dear. Did he harbor some hope of a reconciliation? Leaning away, she said, “It is inappropriate for you to say such.”
He gave a nonchalant shrug that instantly, almost painfully reminded her of Simon.
“Circumstances occurred beyond my control and I regret how quickly you disappeared from my life.”
As he spoke, she raised a gloved hand to her lips in dismay. For without a doubt now, she saw pain lingering in his gaze. Could it be he had genuinely cared for her?
At her continued silence, he added, “That was, no doubt, also inappropriate to say, particularly to a recently wedded wife.”
Offering him a small smile in return, Jenny said, “I shall overlook it, my lord.”
“You have moved on and look well. For your sake, I am very pleased.”
She patted his arm because something about him drew her to do so. At the same moment, his hand covered her gloved one upon his forearm, she heard a familiar voice.
“There you are, Lady Lindsey.”
Pulling her hand back as if burned, Jenny turned to see Lord Cambrey almost upon them. Hoping she didn’t look guilty—knowing her cheeks were now scarlet—she feared she did.
However, instead of censure from her husband’s friend, she saw only wariness in his gaze directed at Alder.
For his part, Lord Alder dropped his arm to his side and offered a bow to the earl.
Cambrey kept his eyes upon the viscount even while he addressed Jenny.
“Your sister thought you’d been gone for a long while, and you never know what disreputable types lurk in these hallways.”
“Do you know Lord Alder?” she asked, trying to initiate a more general conversation.
“Vaguely.” Cambrey continued to stare hard at Alder, who began to bristle.
Apparently, Simon had left her in good hands, for his friend was championing her where there was absolutely no need.
Since the men were not about to discuss fox hunting and the best make of tobacco, Jenny decided she had better separate them.
“Shall we go back to the reading? I don’t want to miss the ending, nor to further worry my family.”
Cambrey only nodded and reached for her arm.
Lord Alder spoke again.
“Lady Lindsey, it was a distinct pleasure running into you this evening.”
She knew better than to own to the same pleasure since it might sap the last of Cambrey’s patience. She gave Michael Alder a slight nod.
“Good evening, my lord.” With that, she let Cambrey lead her away.
However, after a step or two, he halted and looked over his shoulder.
“Just so we’re clear, Alder, the countess is under my protection while her husband is absent from London. I consider it my honor to do any small service for such a war hero as our Lindsey. I will be certain to advise him as to your close attention to his wife when next I see him.”
Jenny rolled her eyes at this absurd display of male posturing. Yet she would not gainsay Cambrey for risk of humiliating him. To do so would be a direct insult to her own husband. She hoped, however, that the viscount didn’t give a moment’s worry to the Earl of Lindsey with his dander raised for that was unlikely. She had done nothing wrong.
When they turned the corner, she felt Cambrey’s stiffness relax.
“Thank you for coming to get me. The viscount surprised me out of nowhere, but he was quite harmless, I assure you.”
“Rather like a maiden aunt at a family gathering, you think?”
She laughed. “Precisely.”
“My lady, Alder is a tad more dangerous than a spinster with chin hair. I would advise you to steer well clear of him.”
With that, they were back in the bustling, brightly lit main hall, and there was her family, along with Cambrey’s cousin Beryl, laughing and talking, the reading of Dickens apparently over.
“May I escort you ladies to your carriage?” Cambrey asked.
“Oh, please let us stay another few minutes,” Beryl asked. “I want to find Maryliss and introduce Eleanor to her.”
“Very well,” Cambrey said, and the youngest two scurried away clutching each other’s arms excitedly while trying to maintain some demeanor of ladylike decorum.
“We are happy your cousin has taken to our Eleanor,” Lady Blackwood intoned. “I imagine in a year or two, it will be their turn to come out.”
Cambrey looked taken aback. He glanced the way the girls had gone.
“I don’t believe my aunt and uncle have considered next year’s Season for Beryl. She seems so young.”
Anne Blackwood chuckled slightly. “They all seem young, my lord, until suddenly, they do not. And girls grow up in the blink of an eye into women.”
Cambrey’s glance took in Maggie, lingering for longer than perhaps polite, before dropping to the floor.
Jenny smiled. Yes, this might be Maggie’s second incomplete Season if Lord Cambrey’s thoughts were going in the direction of one particular grown up female.
Suddenly, more than anything, Jenny wanted Simon by her side, to look at her in the same way as if she were the jammiest bit of jam.
Simon’s lovemaking had caused her to believe he truly wanted and needed her by his side. Could she possibly have been mistaken? Had he married her for business matters, to sort out the mess his accounts had been in? Was he even now with another woman in France or Italy?
Later that night, when she sat on her bed—what should be their bed—Jenny considered the possibility that given Simon’s vexing nighttime condition, he might consider a mistress to be more desirable than a wife. One didn’t expect to spend the night with a lightskirt, did one? He could toss her out or leave her side at any time.
Perhaps all she had to do was vow to never sleep with him or even attempt it again. After all, for the pleasure of his company and for being his wife in all other ways, she could make that vow. If he would only give her the chance.
The next morning was the first time she felt the nausea that plagued her for the next few weeks until her condition was confirmed. She was with child.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Mummy, please, let things be.”
“You must notify your husband, I say.” Her mother started in on the same argument for the third day in a row since she had found out about her eldest daughter’s condition.
Jenny had told Maggie, who instead of keeping it to herself had exclaimed with joy at becoming an aunt. In fact, Maggie was exuberant and joyful at nearly everything these days wearing a constant glow that Jenny thought should have been hers.
In any case, her mother and younger sister knew almost before Jenny’s cup of weak, milky tea had grown cold.
“Simply write to him. He’s been absent from you too long. He is a caring man and would want to be with you. Besides, whatever business he has abroad cannot be as important as his heir.”
Her mother had no idea how difficult her request was. Jenny would have to ask Cambrey precisely where her husband was and whether he could get word to him. How humiliating! Perhaps she could offhandedly inquire as to whether Cambrey had heard from Simon, and not let him know she had not. Still, Jenny would need an address if he were abroad, and how could she obtain it without telling John Angsley her plight.
The abandoned wife, and now abandoned mother-to-be.
How she wished she
and Simon had been given the time to settle things between them before a child came along. On the other hand, it comforted her there would be no more talk of ending their union, not now that a son or daughter of the house of Devere was on its way.
Meanwhile, she could do nothing else but wait and continue to play hostess to her family, smile at everyone who congratulated her on her marriage, and prevaricate to those who asked after her absent husband. She would continue to pretend everything was as it should be until it became the truth.
*
Simon awakened in his cell. Pressing down on the strangely soft dirt underneath him, he raised himself to a seated position and took stock of his surroundings. Despite the dim light, oddly there were no rats. He had a feeling that fact was important because there were always rats at dawn and dusk. Still, gazing miserably at the bars, it was a cell like it always was. He’d been dreaming of Belton Manor and … a strange man who had been speaking with an accent. A doctor, he thought.
Moreover, he’d been dreaming of a lovely woman with wide, knowing eyes and a lush, kissable mouth. He could almost remember her name.
Glancing sideways, there was Toby. His cousin sat on the ground simply gazing at him quietly. Toby needed him to kill the jailer, or he would die. With quiet resolution, Simon knew he had to strangle the man who held the keys.
*
Another party, another nearly unendurable evening standing with the ineligibles, both the widowed and the matrons, and the wallflowers. She could stave off the boredom by imagining who was interested in whom. Then there were the brief conversations with those who had been her friends prior to her disastrous last Season and flight to Sheffield.
Obviously, most everyone probed for details regarding her missing husband, some out of malice, which she ignored, some out of pity, which she could not bear.
Indeed, Jenny was becoming increasingly aware of consolatory glances. Except for a few days in London when Simon had been dealing with Crocky, no one had seen her husband in over three years. However, they had certainly heard of him.
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