Lady of Shame

by Ann Lethbridge

  ‘Perhaps I would,’ Carstairs said, following him out of the dining room. ‘When I have time.’

  Claire sagged against the chair back and looked at André.

  The footmen were milling about the place, clearing plates, picking up glasses. Lumsden also looked at André. ‘I don’t think we will be serving dinner in that manner again, monsieur. His Grace was most distressed when he left.’ He turned to Claire. ‘Will you take tea in the drawing room, madam?’

  ‘No.’ She forced a tired smile. ‘No, thank you, Lumsden. I think I will retire also.’ She pushed slowly to her feet. She did not look at André, and he tried hard not to look at her. Lumsden was no fool. André would not risk the old butler seeing what must not be seen, and yet the dispirited way she left the room was hard to ignore. If only there was something he could do to cheer her.

  But what? And would she even permit it?

  * * *

  ‘Will there be anything else, madam?’ Daisy asked.

  Claire, brushing her hair, smiled. ‘No, thank you.’

  The maid slipped away. Claire looked wistfully into the mirror. Carstairs was such an ass. If she hadn’t wasted her youth and what little beauty she’d been born with on a wastrel like George, she wouldn’t now be faced with the prospect of marrying someone like him.

  But she’d been headstrong. Wilful. Impulsive. She could still hear Crispin’s voice in her head. He’d been strong back then. But she’d been lonely too. Afraid. What if no one would marry her mother’s daughter, even if her father was a duke? Her portion had been very small.

  The mistakes were all hers. If she must now devote the rest of her life to a man for whom she had no affection, for the sake of her own daughter, she probably deserved it. She sighed. She would suffer anything for Jane’s happiness. She looked over at the connecting door, got to her feet and went into her daughter’s bedroom.

  As usual all that could be seen of Jane was the top her head. She had always liked to burrow deep within the covers.

  She returned to her chamber and closed the door softly. A soft rap on her door made her heart leap into her throat.

  The door opened. A mouth-watering scent filled the room.

  Chocolate.

  André stepped over the threshold balancing on one hand a round silver tray containing a small custard cup.

  Her heart stuttered and stumbled. She had not expected him tonight, or any other. She rose to her feet. She could not go through any more of this. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Dinner was a success, n’est-ce pas?’

  ‘The food was.’ She managed a smile. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Am I permitted to say that your sense of style is magnifique? The decorations in the dining room were stunning. It made my food seem all the more appetising.’

  The compliments surprised and pleased her. She had taken special care with the table this evening and Lumsden had followed her orders to the letter. ‘I’m glad you approve.’ She was glad. His opinion mattered more than it should.

  He glanced down at the tray. ‘You did not have dessert. I made you something special.’

  ‘Hot chocolate.’ She swallowed the flood of moisture to her mouth.

  He shook his head. ‘Not quite. It is something new. I would value your opinion.’

  More flattery. Yet his gaze was so sincere. But she wasn’t sure she could bear any more talk or discussion this evening, she was feeling too low in her spirits. Because of Carstairs. Because André was leaving, even though she had tried her best not to think about his departure. ‘It smells wonderful. Please, leave it and go.’

  ‘It must be eaten right away.’ He stepped into the room and set the tray on the table beside the hearth. He unwrapped a spoon from the napkin and gestured for her to sit. He flashed her a boyish smile full of appeal.

  What could she do against that smile? With a frown, she sat and he moved the table in front of her and spread the napkin over her skirts. The little cup was full to overflowing.

  He stepped back. ‘Madame, you are served.’

  She shook her head. ‘You really are quite mad.’

  ‘This is true. Eat.’

  She dipped the spoon in and the concoction collapsed around it, the chocolate scent rising up in a cloud of deliciousness. ‘Oh, my.’ She filled her spoon, tested the temperature with her tongue—not to hot, not too cold—and then filled her mouth.

  Heavenly flavour burst on her tongue. ‘Mmmm,’ she managed as she savoured the pudding. ‘Sumptuous,’ she breathed when she could speak. ‘Decadent. Smooth like velvet. Light as air. And sweet as honey. Seduction on a spoon.’

  He cracked a laugh and looked extremely pleased. ‘Your words make it seem better than it is. I should write them down.’

  ‘What do you call it?’

  ‘Soufflé. It will be a signature dish in my restaurant.’

  ‘And you made it especially for me?’

  ‘I did.’

  Two more spoonfuls and it was gone. ‘I have never tasted anything so glorious.’

  He grinned. ‘I am glad you like it.’

  ‘You will make a great name for yourself,’ she said softly, hoping he heard only the praise and not her sadness.

  He shrugged modestly but could not hide his pleasure. Not from her.

  As she licked the last taste from her spoon his eyes watched her with hunger.

  A ripple of anticipation careened through her body.

  He crouched beside her on his haunches, bringing his face level with hers, his dark eyes searching her face. A fingertip traced the line of her jaw. ‘Not so thin any more.’

  ‘Thanks to your cooking,’ she whispered.

  ‘I thought you a little brown mouse the first day I saw you,’ he murmured, those eyes so intense, so mesmerising, she could not move or breathe. ‘Now I know you for a tigress.’

  Embarrassed, she laughed. He smiled back and her stomach flipped. He always looked handsome, but tonight he seemed younger, more vulnerable.

  Something inside her, something strong and maternal, wanted to hold him, to offer comfort. But the moment was lost as he pushed to his feet. Perhaps he had sensed her intention and wanted to put her at distance.

  A distance she felt as keenly as the sharp winds off the dales. It was the right thing to do, of course. She stood up, trying to keep her smile. ‘Did you come only to feed me?’ she asked, cursing the hope spreading in trickles of heat up from her centre.

  He took a deep breath. ‘Two things, besides feeding you, when once more you ate very little at dinner. I wanted you to know our saboteur is discovered and will never strike again.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  He gave a rueful shake of his head. ‘Mademoiselle Becca.’

  Claire frowned. ‘Her reason?’

  ‘She thought to rid me of my rivals. For you.’

  ‘What?’ Claire gasped, recoiling. ‘She knows? About us?’

  ‘She knows nothing,’ he said quickly. ‘Except my attraction. My fondness for the child.’ He grimaced. ‘She is a strange petit chou. She feels. She does not know. I have put the idea out of her head. Now she weeps on Mrs Stratton’s shoulder.’

  ‘Poor thing. It sounds as if she is in love with you.’

  He frowned deeply. ‘She almost ruined my reputation.’

  She smiled. ‘Love is strangely unselfish, isn’t it?’ She spoke thoughtfully, hardly knowing where the words were coming from, but feeling their truth. ‘If one loves, one will do anything to make that person happy or safe or whatever is needed.’ Her voice broke a little as she thought of what she would do for her daughter.

  He stared at her. Clearly nonplussed.

  She brushed her words aside. ‘I really hope Becca will not be required to leave. Little harm has been done, fortunately.’

  ‘It is up to Madame Stratton, of course, but I asked her to forgive.’

  ‘I am glad.’

  ‘No doubt she will consult with you, since you were the one most harmed.’

&nb
sp; ‘Then she will be forgiven.’ She bit her lip. ‘And the other thing?’

  ‘I had to bid you au revoir, Claire. I will miss la petite Jane very much, also.’ He held out a package wrapped in brown paper tied with ribbon. ‘This gift is for her.’

  ‘As the food was for me.’

  ‘A culinary farewell. All I have to offer.’ The ache in his voice brought a lump to her throat.

  She inclined her head. ‘It was something I will never forget.’

  ‘The more memories we make, the harder they are to forget, non?’

  He sounded as if he spoke from bitter experience.

  She could only look her fill, take in the angles of his hard set jaw, the bleakness in his dark eyes, the determination of his mouth.

  A groan broke free of his wonderful lips and in one quick stride he was so close she could feel his heat through her gown. His fingertips—light, too light—formed a cage for her face. ‘Claire,’ he said softly.

  She placed her hands flat on his chest and felt the tremors racking his body. The storm inside him. His head lowered and his beautifully sensual mouth brushed her parted lips. She closed her eyes overcome by the pleasure of his touch.

  Then he tore himself away and was gone.

  She blinked back the moisture in her eyes and gazed at the tray and the dish on the table.

  He’d brought her all he could offer. Food from the gods.

  Something inside her cracked open and heartbreak leaked out; she sank down onto the sofa and let the tears fall.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘But why did he have to go?’ Jane whined.

  Claire really didn’t want to talk about this any more. It was like being pricked all over with pins. Painful torture. She wanted to scream. She forced herself to calm. ‘Monsieur André had business in London, I am told.’

  Jane closed the atlas. ‘Then we should go to London and find him.’

  ‘No, we shouldn’t.’

  The small girl flounced from the chair, her face moody. In that moment, she had the look of her handsome father when crossed. She was going to break hearts when she was older. ‘He was my friend. He left without saying goodbye.’ She kicked at the carpet.

  ‘Saying goodbye can be painful to all concerned. You know that.’ Jane looked up at that. ‘He left you a gift, did he not?’

  Jane touched the glittering star on a ribbon around her neck. ‘I’d sooner have him than some silly old star. I thought you liked him.’

  Another one thinking to matchmake? Or had Becca filled her head with these ideas?

  Claire carefully arranged her expression into a motherly smile of indulgence. ‘Perhaps one day when we visit London, we will go and find him at his hotel.’

  Jane brightened. ‘Can we?’

  ‘Perhaps.’ It wasn’t a promise. Not really. Since Claire was unlikely ever to go to London. She daren’t. And not only because of Pratt. She didn’t trust herself to be sensible around Monsieur André. ‘Where is that cat of yours? He is usually underfoot.’

  An impish grin curved her daughter’s lips. ‘Visiting Chef Jeremy. He hates cats so Tiny visits him every day.’

  Claire laughed. The small sound hurt in her chest, but she had become used to the pain and ignored it for Jane’s sake. And for her own. She would not sit around moping for something that could never happen. Remember George, was her mantra. Remember what a disaster he had been. But it didn’t ring entirely true. Because André was not George. André was good and honourable and kind. And she knew that in her heart and this time her heart was not wrong.

  But André didn’t want her the way she wanted him. Their worlds were too different.

  ‘Well, if you have finished your map, perhaps we should start on your letters.’

  Jane groaned, but went to fetch her slate.

  ‘Aunty Claire!’ A brisk voice said. The door swung back with a bang revealing a tall young woman energetically removing her gloves. She tossed them at the hovering footman. Her fashionable bonnet followed suit, revealing long thick dark honey hair. Her grey-blue eyes were alight with pleasure.

  Claire rose to her feet.

  ‘When Lumsden said you were in the library, I had to come right away.’

  ‘Phaedra,’ Claire said, smiling. ‘Dear Phaedra. Is it really you all grown up?’

  They hugged. Just as they had hugged when Phaedra was a schoolgirl.

  Jane stood watching them from large eyes, a hopeful smile lurking on her lips.

  Phaedra, seeing her, crouched down. ‘And this is your daughter?’ She held out a hand. ‘Good day to you, Cousin Jane. I’m Phaedra. Do you ride?’

  Jane took her hand gravely and dipped an awkward curtsey. ‘I don’t know how to ride.’ She glanced up at Claire. ‘But I would like to learn.’

  ‘Then you shall,’ Phaedra said, bouncing to her feet. ‘Come along, we’ll go to the stables and see about a mount for you.’

  Jane took her outstretched hand.

  ‘Any excuse to get back to the stables, sister,’ said a tall grey-eyed, brown-haired gentleman strolling into the room.

  ‘Giles,’ Claire exclaimed, taking him in. He’d filled out and matured since she’d seen him last; his pace was leisurely, perhaps even measured. Remembering him when she had left, she thought he looked a little too careworn for a man of his age.

  ‘It is good to see you,’ she said a little tentatively, unsure of how he would feel about her return.

  He grinned and looked more like his old self. ‘And you, Claire. Or should I be calling you “Aunty” now?’ The tease in his smile and his voice reminded her of when they were young.

  Claire immediately felt at ease. ‘Claire will do just fine. And this is my daughter. Jane, bid your cousin Giles good day.’

  Giles bowed with a twinkle in his eyes. ‘I am pleased to meet you, Cousin.’

  Jane bobbed a curtsey. She gave him a measuring look. ‘Mama said I have lots of family here, but they are all growed up. Don’t you have any children?’

  Claire muffled a gasp. That was something one did not ask a single gentleman.

  Giles lips twitched. ‘Sadly not yet. But I certainly hope I will.’

  Jane looked disappointed.

  ‘But then there is Phaedra,’ he said, his lips twitching. ‘Half the time I think she is no more than ten.’

  Phaedra laughed. ‘We are off to the stables.’

  ‘Go quick, then, before your aunt Wilhelmina is done changing, or you will find yourself plying your needle in the drawing room instead.’

  ‘A fate worse than death,’ Phaedra muttered. ‘Don’t worry about Jane, I will take good care of her.’ She whisked the beaming child away.

  Giles strode up to Claire with a fond smile and took her hand. ‘How are you, really, Claire? Smithins wrote of your arrival. I have been dying to see you after all this time.’ He tucked her hand under his arm and they strolled the perimeter of the room together. Cosy. Comfortable.

  ‘I am well. Glad to be home. Amongst family. I hope you don’t mind?’

  ‘I could not be more glad.’ He stopped at the windows and looked down into her face as if searching for information. Probably seeing how much she had changed. ‘I was furious with Father for casting you out. So was Jamie.’

  His voice caught on his brother’s name.

  She touched his sleeve with her free hand. ‘Oh, Giles, I am so sorry.’

  He shook his head as if words were too painful. ‘We looked for you, you know.’

  ‘It is water under the bridge. Your father did what he thought was right. He did more than he should have, in truth. I learned only when I came back that he gave Holte money.’

  He looked out over the park. ‘You speak of him with disdain.’

  ‘You and Jamie and Crispin were right about him. His will was weak, his charm only a thin veneer. But he gave me Jane and she is my life.’

  ‘And you are home now.’

  ‘Yes. I am home. For a while at least.’

  He started walk
ing again, his steps a little sharper than before. ‘Smithins says you came seeking money.’

  She looked up startled. ‘He told you?’

  ‘At Father’s behest. It is a cursed nuisance, but Father trusts the man, so what can we do? Claire, I wish we could help you. If this issue of Jamie, his death, was settled, if his son had not shown up, we could have been of more assistance.’

  ‘Finding an heir is a good thing, is it not? You never wanted the title.’

  ‘Goodness, it couldn’t be better from that respect. If he really is Jamie’s son. But until we can prove Jamie’s death, the money is all tied up in Chancery. Damned lawyers and judges.’ He halted and squeezed his eyes shut. ‘Claire, please, say nothing to the others, but I honestly fear we will go bankrupt.’

  ‘Oh, Giles.’

  ‘Kate is fine. She married a rich American. But there is Phaedra to think of. And Harry.’

  ‘And yourself and Lily.’

  ‘I’ll be fine. As long as I can get back to the army soon. I know what Father promised, and I will do my level best to meet it, but it will be touch and go, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I expected nothing, Giles. Really. But can I stay? For a while? Until I have my situation in hand?’

  He took both his hands in hers and smiled. ‘Need you ask? This is your home. Stay as long as you wish and know you are welcome. If anything changes on the financial side, I will be the first to let you know.’

  ‘And in the meantime, I will continue to find a suitable husband. I will make the family proud this time.’ And pray Pratt didn’t find her before she managed to land her fish. And hopefully Crispin was right and one of these men would be willing to pay for the privilege of marrying a Montague.

  Her stomach tightened into a knot.

  * * *

  Claire had forgotten just how much of a martinet Aunt Wilhelmina could be and had spent the past week trying to head her off from Phaedra and Jane.

  Fortunately Jane didn’t spend much time in the kitchens any more; she was too busy in the stables with her cousin, when she wasn’t at her lessons with Claire. A situation which did not please Aunt Wilhelmina.