A Ring of Midnight Orchids: Flowers of the Aristocracy (Untamed Regency Book 3)

by Jackie Williams

  Lucas picked out a roll and tore it in two.

  “Damn! I didn’t know he had gone. Must have missed him as I came home through the forest. Did you see who the letter was from?” He cursed under his breath and wondered why Pierce would leave the sanctuary of Perrydale so suddenly.

  Henry shook his head.

  “Unfortunately not, but from the delicately written address and flowery perfume emanating from the envelope, I can only imagine it was from a woman.”

  Lucas stilled the spoon that was already halfway to his mouth.

  “A woman? Must be his mother.”

  “I don’t think so, but it was definitely a woman’s handwriting for the original address, and a lady’s stationery. Perfume was familiar too, but I just can’t place it. It wasn’t the one your wife wears, but perhaps something similar.” Henry sniffed as if he might catch a scent of it as he passed a dish of butter curls.

  Not Pierce’s mother, Lady Trenchard then; as far as Lucas could recall, everything about her smelled more like mothballs. He put his spoon back in his bowl and began slathering the yellow pat on his bread. The afternoon’s activities had brought on gnawing hunger pangs in his stomach.

  “Original handwriting? I don’t follow. But what other woman would write to Pierce anyway? The only one who I know might correspond, is here at Perrydale already. Did the messenger have no further information?”

  Henry poured a glass of wine. The bottle chinked loudly against the glass.

  “The letter was brought on the stagecoach from London, my Lord. A redirection of address, I believe. Little Luke Billings brought it from the village. I gave him a ha’penny from the household purse for his trouble. I hope that wasn’t being over generous.”

  Lucas might have rolled his eyes if he was sure that his left one wouldn’t become stuck again. The affects of the brandy appeared to have worn off but one could never be too sure.

  “Perhaps a whole penny next time, Henry. I don’t think that will break the Caruthers bank balance,” he admonished his footman gently and began to devour his soup in earnest.

  Henry gave a short bow.

  “As you wish, my Lord.” He stood silently until Lucas finished his soup, then took the empty bowl away and began serving thick slices of roast beef. Lucas’ stomach growled appreciatively as delicious aromas filled the air, but a thought suddenly rose to his mind.

  “You have sent dinner up to my wife and her maid?”

  The footman added roasted potatoes and green beans to the plate.

  “No, my Lord. Her Ladyship complained of the heat when she arrived home from her jaunt and asked for a selection of bread and cold meats to be sent up. I believe Mrs. Granger took them to her room, her new room next to yours.”

  Lucas felt the heat rise to his cheeks. He hadn’t realized that his housekeeper had moved Angelique into the suite adjoining his own. Damn! That must have been the arrangements the woman had spoken of. He had rather thought that the distance between them might give them some breathing space. Now he would probably be awake all night thinking about her lying in her bed with only the inches thick wall between them.

  “Thank you.” He swallowed. “And did my wife seem well?” He kept his tone deliberately light even though his footman must by now know there was some discord.

  Henry put the full dinner plate before Lucas.

  “I believe Mrs. Granger wanted to enquire after...Well, I am sure you know after what, but her Ladyship’s old maid took the tray at the door.” He spooned gravy over the potatoes.

  Lucas nodded knowingly, all at once ashamed of his appalling behaviour. Meeting a maid in his hallway, she informed him that a tearful Angelique had arrived home from the vicarage several minutes before and had immediately run upstairs. He hadn’t had the nerve to follow her and so never discovered that Mrs. Granger was already in the process of moving Angelique to her new room. The room next door to his own.

  His appetite left him. He put down his knife and fork and stared balefully at the plate of food.

  Henry held out a dish of horseradish, but Lucas waved it away.

  “I am afraid that you will have to apologize to cook. I fear that the brandy has done its work and my stomach cannot take any more. The soup and bread will suffice until morning.” He made his excuses as he dabbed at his mouth and rose to leave the dining room.

  Angelique sat at her dressing table, deliberately not looking at her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t want to see her own tear stained face or red rimmed eyes. Life was so unfair.

  She winced as a knot snagged in the hairbrush.

  “Ouch! Careful Mary. I feel as though I have been punched already today. I don’t need my hair pulled from my head.”

  Mary teased the knot smooth.

  “No indeed! You have had a most trying day. And I fear it is not yet over.”

  “Not over? What can you mean? I am going to take an early night. The strain of the day has quite overcome me.” She glanced in the mirror to make sure her riding clothes, boots, and the pillowcase were well hidden from sight.

  Mary glanced about the room too.

  “Well, his Lordship must have asked for your room to be changed to one next to his own chambers for a good reason, and there is only one reason that I can think of on a couple’s wedding night.”

  Angelique felt herself blush to the roots of her hair.

  “You cannot mean that he will...He will want to...” She gasped in some breaths of air. “Dear Lord! But he cannot. He does not even like me, let alone love me. He said so. I heard him declare his love for another woman, even if she is married and unattainable.”

  Mary picked up a comb and split the thick tresses into three. She began to plait the whole length.

  “Can’t say as that has ever stopped a man before. They have different needs than a woman. Their hearts do not need to engage in the act. It is merely about their own pleasure.”

  Angelique pulled herself away from her maid.

  “Well, he had better rethink his ideas, if that is what he has in mind.” She moved towards the door between the two apartments and turned the key in the lock. She slipped it into the pocket of her robe. “There, that will put a stop to anything untoward.”

  Mary dropped the comb into a silver tray.

  “If he doesn’t have another key somewhere. He is the master of the house, after all,” she said knowingly.

  Angelique thought for a few moments, her expression determined as she dragged the fireside chair to the newly locked door. She tilted it and wedged the back beneath the handle.

  “There! I saw my mother do that on several occasions.” Her satisfied smile slipped slightly. “You don’t think Lord Caruthers will become violent, do you?”

  Mary shook her head.

  “To be honest, I doubt he will disturb you. By not dining with him, I think you have sent the man enough of a message, besides he doesn’t appear to be the type to force himself on an unwilling woman.”

  Angelique’s shoulders drooped slightly.

  “And yet somehow he is married to me. Without even asking. In a drunken farce of a ceremony that I can apparently do nothing about. At least Pierce went down on one knee, even if he was forced to do it.” She clenched her hands in frustration. “Ooh! This is all Harold’s fault. If he were here right now, I’d shake him! How dare he threaten anyone like that. I don’t know what’s happened to him recently, but he’s turning into a tyrant, just like father. To think, he has forced a man to propose marriage to me, by threatening physical harm! The humiliation is beyond all. I’ll never be able to show my face in polite society again.” She dropped back into the chair before the dressing table and stared at her reflection.

  Was she so difficult to love? Her features appeared regular enough to her, but perhaps her eyes were too big for her face, or too bright a blue. She had heard some people call them distracting; their blue too intense to be real. Cornflower some called it, but she thought them more like the tiny blue butterflies that she had se
en once in the garden at Landsdowne.

  Perhaps the fault was in her lips. True, they were naturally a dark, dusky pink, a little over plump, and with an oddly pronounced dip in the top one. Cupid’s bow, her mother had called it. Hardly a compliment to be compared to a fat, baby angel, wielding a deadly weapon.

  She reached up to flatten a wayward curl of hair, conceivably the cause of much irritation to some. Why could it not lay smooth and flat, and in one of the modern styles she had seen on other, more beautiful women? Why did there have to be flyaway strands that sprang around her face in a most annoying fashion? Men liked their women to be elegant and refined, not looking as though they had recently been dragged through a hedge.

  And all this was seen before anyone looked lower than her head. The faults with her body were far more numerous.

  When they were younger, her brother had often laughed at her thin legs, comparing her to a knobbly kneed fawn in the park, and when she grew older he had mentioned her ‘child bearing’ hips too. Her modiste, Madame Lesmaes had commented about her shape too. Since becoming a woman, Angelique could never buy anything already made. With her waist being so tiny and her breasts so full, she must look like the egg timer their old cook always used when making father’s breakfast. It was probably just as well that the decadent nightwear she now wore covered much of her body. Not that it mattered. Lucas was hardly likely to knock at her door, wedding night or not. He had made it perfectly plain that he did not want her.

  And neither did Lord Trenchard. What folly to think his pursuit so romantic. And how angry she was with Harold. Her brother would feel the sharp edge of her tongue when she returned to London. How dare the man attempt marry her off to the first available bachelor, without regard to her own personal preferences.

  Not that she had any. She had not made the acquaintance of many gentlemen during her stay in London. Brendon Spencer had been charming, and Pierce quite fun, until her brother had interfered and forced him to propose. What had the man been thinking? She was determined to find out.

  But that would mean leaving Perrydale.

  And Lucas.

  Her heart throbbed violently and her stomach flipped in the most uncomfortable manner. Perhaps she should have taken up the offer of a roast dinner. It wasn’t as if she had eaten since their breakfast overlooking the terrace.

  Could it only have been that morning that she had admired the view Lucas pointed out to her? A view that she was so excited to explore. She had so little experience of the outside world. Now with the chance she had been given, did she really want to return to London and the security of her brother?

  Was that option actually that secure? Perhaps not from what she had experienced so far. Though Harold had pretended to give her freedom, he had in reality been little better than her father. True, he never threatened to beat her, and she could have people to the house. She could even go out on occasions if escorted by a chaperone of his choice, but if Harold didn’t like the sound of where she might be going, or the company she kept, his stern features and dark looks soon had her changing her mind about the importance of said events.

  And now, if the vicar was to be believed about their farce of a marriage, it seemed that she had exchanged one keeper for another. Another one who didn’t want her. The words Lucas had spoken while he sat on the chapel pew, burned through her and a frisson of fear shivered up her spine. He’d had no intention of marrying. Would he turn violent if she suggested a trip to town, or a walk in the countryside? Mary didn’t think so, but who knew the truth behind good looks and winning smiles.

  Hadn’t her father been thought of as a handsome man, a good man? The congregation at his funeral certainly seemed to think so as they offered their condolences. She tried not to think of how her nails had dug into the palms of her hands that day, of how her knees shook in fear of anyone knowing the truth when her mother’s tears of secret relief and joy at her release, spilled down her cheeks.

  The mourners had thought the new widow was crying for the loss of her loving husband. Angelique knew different. So did Harold. Her brother had caught her eye across the casket and a minute, almost invisible smile had softened the hardness of his lips. No one else saw it, and if they had, they wouldn’t have recognized it for what it was. Angelique had felt such hope rise in her heart. She was free at last.

  Her freedom lasted a day.

  With her mother breaking out into loud shrieks of laughter, alternating with fits of melancholy for the life she had lost, something had to be done. But the woman couldn’t bear to remain at Landsdowne with all the terrible memories, and London was out of the question. Angelique’s mother needed peace and quiet, not balls and routs.

  With that in mind, Harold had suggested Carnsworth. Their father considered the place too far from London, and the main house had been long shut up. Huge and sprawling, their mother would be lost in the place, but the dower house in the grounds was far smaller and quite beautiful. And it had a fabulous hot house. One to rival that at Landsdowne, and perfect for the unsettled woman. Their mother couldn’t wait to go, had insisted on leaving that very evening with her precious plants. Her maid, a footman, and the driver who would double as gardener and handy man about the dower house had left with her.

  Angelique had been whisked to London the very next morning. A fabulous trip with such excitement chasing through her veins. Excitement that soon dwindled into a gentle flow of quiet days sitting in the library, or taking lunch with new friends. She couldn’t say that she had been unhappy. There were many things to be happy about, but London wasn’t as thrilling as she hoped it would be. She’d had more escapades and adventures in the last four days than ever before in her life.

  She glanced out at the evening sun setting over Perrydale’s beautiful grounds. The light wouldn’t last much longer. Long shadows stretched down to the lake where the swans entwined their necks as they swam elegantly side by side. Rabbits nibbled the grass adjacent to the drive through the estate. There was even a deer taking tentative steps towards the water.

  She stood for several minutes longer, watching as the sun eventually went down leaving the estate bathed in moonlight. The water glimmered silver, the wake of ripples sparkling behind the swans. Another deer joined the first. A fox yipped somewhere in the darkness and an owl hooted overhead.

  A sigh left Angelique’s lips. Perrydale was a stunning place during the day or the night. And she hadn’t yet explored the library or seen as far as the hunting lodge. Perhaps she shouldn’t bother going to London again. Harold might try to make her come back to Perrydale and she didn’t think she could do that once she had left. But where else could she go?

  A sudden stomping on the wooden floorboards outside her door made her lift her head in alarm. She waited for a knock that never came. A door further along the hallway opened and closed. She could hear a lighter tread, perhaps as Lucas stepped on the carpet in his room, followed by silence.

  Angelique turned in her seat. Mary stood by her door, dirty laundry in her hand.

  “I think you might be right. It seems that his Lordship has gone straight to bed.” Angelique whispered. “Well, that will be all, Mary. It has been a long and busy day. I’ll let you find your way to your own bed.”

  Mary nodded.

  “Thank you, my Lady. I’ll just pop this down to be laundered.” She glanced about the room as if looking for something. “I am a little surprised that his Lordship’s maid came in to pick up the riding shirt and breeches. I had said that I would be able to attend to you myself.”

  Angelique tamped down the guilt.

  “I do not know the household rota. Perhaps it is laundry day today and she thought to take it immediately. I suspect when Mrs. Granger moved my things to this room.” She couldn’t look at her maid. The woman could spot a lie as easily as a smut of soot on white linen.

  It had been a disconcerting surprise to discover a delighted Mrs. Granger overseeing the room change. Angelique had only just run up the stairs after the distre
ssing visit to the vicarage and hadn’t considered what might really be going on. It wasn’t her place to interfere with the running of Perrydale. There could be any number of reasons for sleeping arrangements to be changed. Unexpected guests, a leak in the roof, decorators. The list was endless in a house of its size, and in the confusion of silk gowns, soft slippers, and Mrs. Grangers ignored protests that Angelique wasn’t to lift a finger, she had picked up the riding clothes still lying on the bed, as much to help move everything as anything else. It was only as she carried them along the hallway, hurrying after the small entourage that ferried her belongings, that the idea of escape came to her again. And after discovering the impossible awkwardness of a dress when riding, concealing the shirt, breeches and boots had suddenly become of paramount importance.

  Now she looked back at her own reflection in the mirror and decided that the rosy blush on her cheeks was more to do with the trials of the day than the lie she had just told, or the thought of sleeping in the room next to Lucas.

  To her relief, Mary gave a nod of agreement.

  “Yes, of course, that must have been what happened. Well, if you are sure you don’t need me any longer?”

  Angelique glanced towards the doors separating the rooms. Everything remained quiet beyond. She looked back at her maid.

  “No, I have everything I need, thank you, Mary. You can go. It has been a long day.” She yawned for added emphasis.

  Still fully dressed, Lucas lay on his bed, contemplating the canopy above while a gamut of thoughts raced through in his mind. Now that Pierce was out of the way, perhaps he could salvage something out of the situation. Being married wasn’t something he had thought much about before. Even when he had been in love with Sophia, his feelings hadn’t stretched as far as considering what might lay ahead for them. Now a bride had been handed to him without him even realizing. How had he not comprehended what was happening at the time?