Despite that, however, he was still in love with her, and such feelings did not disperse overnight. He resolved to get some answers before he decided what to do about her.
At a knock on the door his eyes flew open. A fire was burning merrily in the grate, and the curtains had been opened. Clearly the maid had been in, but he must have been dead to the world. He wished he’d had a good reason.
“Jon! You’re still abed! It’s nearly tea-time!” His sister rushed into the room, concern etched on her face.
“What?” He looked at the clock on the mantel and saw Julia was right. He rubbed his hands over his face.
Julia sat down on the edge of the bed and pressed a gloved hand to his forehead. “Are you ill?”
“You’re wearing gloves, Julia. How could you tell?” Jonathan said wearily.
“Hmmph. Here I am, trying to show concern for my big brother, and you mock me.” She removed her gloves and tossed them on the bed. She turned her big green eyes on him and clucked, “Seriously, Jon, why on earth are you still in bed?”
“I did not get much sleep. I must have been more tired than I thought when I finally drifted off this morning.”
Julia cocked an auburn eyebrow, looking more than a little like their mother. “What were you doing that kept you awake?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, little sister, but I was at the pub, and then I couldn’t sleep.” He hesitated, one eye on his inquisitive sibling, and decided that was enough to let her draw her own conclusions. They couldn’t possibly be as strange as the truth. “Now, if you don’t want to see more of me than you would like, I suggest that you take yourself off and leave me in peace.”
He started to pull down the covers, and Julia shrieked girlishly and jumped off the bed. “I’m going, I’m going! Mother is waiting for you downstairs. You’ll never believe what she did.”
“I am perishing with curiosity,” Jonathan said.
She threw him a grin and closed the door behind her.
He climbed out of bed and began to dress. He wanted to race downstairs to see Matilda. Their business was not yet concluded, but it would seem this was not the time to discuss it.
****
Although the situation with Matilda weighed heavily on his heart, Jonathan sauntered into the dining room a short while later and was greeted by both parents. His father provided the usual gruff handshake, but his eyes were warm. His mother hugged him so tightly he coughed.
“Easy, Mother. You were only gone for a fortnight.”
She released her grip and gave him a swift kiss on the cheek. She smiled wryly. “You are my baby, Jonathan, and you always will be. I miss you when we’re apart. I can’t help it.” With a mother’s keen eye, she appraised him carefully for a moment. “What’s wrong, darling? You have dark circles under your eyes. Did anything happen while we were gone?”
“Nothing, Mother. Everything is fine.” Or not. “I just had trouble sleeping.” With nonchalance he did not feel, he sat next to her and shook out his serviette into his lap. “So, what’s the latest on dit from London?”
Julia burst into the room and answered, “It was terribly boring, Jon. I rather wish I’d stayed here with you.” She glared at her mother, who gave her an exasperated look in return.
“Oh, please, Julia,” she said. To Jonathan, she explained, “She wanted to go to the Winchesters’ ball, and I said no. She is only fifteen and not out, for goodness’ sake.”
“But it’s the middle of autumn! It’s not the height of the Season! Surely no one would have cared!” Julia wailed.
Jonathan watched his mother give his father a pleading look.
“Julia, you are too young for balls, and that is that,” the earl said firmly.
Julia scowled into her lap and refused to speak. The rest of the family was spared an awkward silence when the footmen entered the room and began to serve.
Jonathan’s mother looked approvingly at the first course. “Cook must have received my message. Are you happy, darling?” she asked the earl.
“Did you request this just for me, my love?”
“Of course.” Jonathan’s mother beamed at his father.
Jonathan and Julia both rolled their eyes.
“You would have been terribly bored here, too, Julia,” Jonathan said. “All I did was work, and I went to the pub for dinner.”
“Every night? When we have a marvelous cook here at home?” his mother asked.
Jonathan was not quite sure how to answer that, since his main motivation had been to stop himself from seducing the cook. His mother looked expectantly at him, so he had to come up with something. He shrugged. “I didn’t enjoy eating alone every night.”
His mother beamed. “You missed us!”
Jonathan smiled. “Of course I did, Mother. It’s much too quiet without you and Julia yapping all the time.”
He ducked as his sister tried to smack him on the back of his head. His father snorted, and his mother airily waved her hand at him. “Oh, you.”
Jonathan decided it might be prudent to change the subject, so he asked again what the London gossip was. This time his sister had her mouth full of soup so she couldn’t whine, and his mother answered.
“Before or after I had to dismiss Dove?” she said.
“Why on earth would you need to dismiss your maid?” Jonathan tried to picture the woman, but failed. Images of Matilda with her well-kissed lips and tousled hair kept intruding. He shook his head and attended to his mother’s response.
“Oh, Jonathan, it was awful. I...”
Julia interrupted with a curiously malicious glee. “She caught her with one of the footmen from Longley House, on the hearth rug in the parlor!”
“Caught her doing what?” Jonathan said absently, still thinking of Matilda.
“Tupping!” Julia smirked, and Jonathan couldn’t hold back a surprised snort.
“Julia!” His mother exclaimed, not nearly as amused. “Where did you learn such a word?!”
Julia huffed indignantly. “I am not a child, Mother.”
“Yes, you are, actually,” Lady Longley said. “Stay away from the footmen.”
“Oh, I didn’t hear it from them. I once overheard Miss Dove ask Father’s valet if he wanted a tupping, and then they started groping each other on the stairs.”
“What a surprise,” Lady Longley said dryly, giving the earl a look.
“What?” the earl asked.
“Oh, never mind,” the countess said irritably, and took a sip of her wine.
“So you caught your maid tupping the footman.” Jonathan winked at his sister. “Then what?”
“I dismissed her and the footman on the spot, of course,” Lady Longley said. “She cursed me for foiling her plans to become the next Lady Longley.” Jonathan’s eyes widened. “Can you imagine? As if you’d ever consider marrying a servant.” She shook her head.
Jonathan coughed. If last evening had gone as planned, he might very well be entertaining such a notion, although he had to admit the buxom Dove had never been to his taste.
“Sounds very distressing for you, Mother,” he clucked sympathetically. “I hope the rest of your visit was pleasant?”
His mother seemed pleased at the change of subject. “It was quiet, of course, since most of the ton families are in the country. But we had some interesting dinner guests. Your uncle invited his barrister, of all people, to dine with us. Apparently the legal community is full of news of a scandal.”
Jonathan nodded at the footman who approached his side, and the man removed his plate. The other footman followed behind with the next course. Jonathan took a sip of his wine. “What sort of scandal?”
His mother’s eyes twinkled merrily—the woman loved a good story. “Well, I suppose it wasn’t really a scandal; more of a curiosity. It seems a few months ago a barrister’s house burned down in the middle of the night. He barely escaped with his life. His wife, however, was not so lucky.”
His mother leaned closer
and said in a loud whisper, “They assume she died in the fire, but her body was never found!”
“Really? How mysterious.” Jonathan took a bite of his vermicelli pie and gestured to her to continue.
“Although he is apparently very skilled at his profession, the barrister was not very popular, and he kept to himself even before the tragedy. His wife was very rarely seen outside of their home, and she never socialized with the other wives. The barrister did not entertain more than a couple of times, and when he did, it was said that his wife had a rather haunted look about her.”
The countess took a sip of her wine and resumed her tale.
“One evening the man, whose name was Ravenswood...no, that’s not right.”
“Ravensdale, my dear,” interjected the earl around a bite of pie.
“Thank you, darling. Please don’t speak with your mouth full.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, and she beamed proudly at him. She turned back to Jonathan. “It is said this Ravensdale was in his club, and another man made some remark, and Ravensdale pulled him out of his chair and started to choke him. Can you imagine?”
Jonathan shook his head in the expected response.
“The man said he had seen Mrs. Ravensdale…”
“The presumed dead Mrs. Ravensdale?”
“Don’t interrupt, Jonathan.”
“Sorry, Mother.”
She glared at him. “He said he had seen someone who looked like the presumed dead Mrs. Ravensdale—Theodora, I think her name was, isn’t that pretty?—at King’s Cross Station after the fire.”
Jonathan’s ears pricked. Theodora. Where had he heard that name recently? “How curious. When was this?”
“The fire?”
“Yes.”
“About three months ago, I think. Why?”
“Just trying to set the stage, Mother. Please continue. This is a most gripping tale.”
His mother gave him a look, apparently trying to gauge if Jonathan was mocking her, so he smiled in reassurance. She narrowed her eyes but continued. “So then Ravensdale threw the man back into his chair and stormed out of the club. Now he’s disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“Yes! He told everyone he was going to see his wife’s relations in Northumberland, but your uncle’s barrister thought this was odd, as he recalled Mrs. Ravensdale had no relations. Her father was a baron, but he and his baroness died shortly after the Ravensdales wed. But Ravensdale assigned his cases to his colleagues, closed his rented house, and claimed to be headed for Northumberland. No one has seen him since.”
His mother sat back in her chair and regarded the table, her tale concluded. Jonathan sat lost in thought.
“Cook has outdone herself, I think,” said the earl. “This dish is delicious. I did miss her cooking when we were in London. The cook at Longley House is much too timid with herbs.”
“I don’t know how we’ve ever done without her,” Lady Longley agreed. “I can’t believe it’s only been three months since she joined us.”
Three months. Theodora. Jonathan suddenly remembered where he had seen the name. In Matilda’s cookery book. Her sister, she had said, but the missing Mrs. Ravensdale’s name was Theodora. Matilda had arrived in the middle of the night, three months ago, without warning.
He thought about racing into the kitchen and confronting her, but she would lie to him, again. He needed to find out the truth first. If he knew everything, she couldn’t hide any longer.
He stood. “I’m sorry, Mother, I have to go to London.”
“What!? Why?” His mother’s expression was clearly shocked.
“You never go to London, son. Why now?” The earl was calmer, but his eyes were filled with concern.
“I’m sorry, I must go at once.” He kissed his mother on the cheek. “I won’t be gone long, I promise.”
“But...” he heard his mother say as he left the room, closing the door gently behind him. Fairfax was in the hall, so Jonathan asked, “When is the next train to London, Fairfax?”
The butler pulled out his pocket watch. “In about an hour, my lord.”
“Excellent,” Jonathan called behind him as he raced up the stairs. “Please have the carriage brought round. I need to be on that train.” He did not wait for a reply but continued to his bedchamber and pulled out a valise. He stuffed some clothing into it and put on his traveling coat. As he turned away from the mirror, he looked at the bed with its rumpled sheets. His heart filled with longing for Matilda, but he had to find out the truth. If she truly was Theodora Ravensdale, she was not a widow—she was married, to a difficult and mysterious, possibly dangerous, man, from whom she had obviously run away.
But she was also the daughter of a baron, and as such not a completely unsuitable match for someone like himself. He decided to ignore the inevitable scandal that extricating her from her marriage would entail. He had somehow fallen in love with the cook, and he had to figure out what the hell was going on. He picked up his valise and left for London.
Chapter Seventeen
Dinner belowstairs was a lively affair, in direct contrast to Theodora’s mood. The primary news was Miss Dove’s dismissal by her ladyship. None of the staff save Florrie and Mr. Derrick had met the footman in question. Mr. Derrick was unusually close-mouthed, and Florrie all too happy to fill in the gap.
“Oh, he was nasty, that one, always grabbing at the maids,” Florrie said in an outraged tone. “Apparently he and Miss Dove had been carrying on every time her ladyship went to London, at least to hear him tell it.”
“Where did Berniece go?” Millie asked.
Mr. Derrick stirred himself to answer. “Who cares? We’re well rid of her.” He rose from his chair and then shoved it roughly back toward the table. “She’s always been a stupid lightskirt.” He scowled at all of them and strode from the room. Having seen Miss Dove and Mr. Derrick together any number of times, Theodora suspected the man was actually hurt. He had the expression of one who had been betrayed.
She had seen a similar look on Jonathan’s face last night. She sighed to herself and listened with half an ear as Florrie told of the beautiful gowns she’d seen, the handsome young men who had flirted with her in Hyde Park, and the sweet shop she and Lady Julia had visited.
After last night, Theodora knew it was only a matter of time until Jonathan told his mother what she was hiding, and she would follow Berniece out the door. For all she knew he was doing so right now.
She was roused from her reverie by another of Florrie’s stories, which she had heard from the other footman at Longley House. He had overheard a story at dinner, about a fire which killed the wife of a London barrister, but her body had never been found. The barrister had survived but had now disappeared. He had told everyone he was going to Northumberland to visit his wife’s relatives, but they were all dead, so no one knew where he had gone.
Theodora’s blood ran cold.
“Are you all right, Mrs. Milsom?” Millie asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Theodora almost jumped. “What?”
“You’ve gone all pale-like. Are you well, ma’am?”
Theodora stared at the girl for a moment. “Yes, of course,” she finally said, and gave Millie a wan smile. “Just a bit of a headache.”
“Why don’t you go to bed, then? Bess and I can take care of cleaning up,” Millie said kindly.
Everyone was looking at her curiously. Her stomach roiled. She could no longer wait. Lucien had hated the very idea of the northern counties, had refused to allow her to go to Northumberland to visit her parents’ graves. Nothing would prompt Lucien to leave London to head north. Unless he was looking for her.
She took a deep breath, feeling calmer now that her decision was made.
“Thank you, Millie,” she said. “I think I will, if you’re sure you don’t mind. I’ll feel better after I lie down for a bit.” Millie was clearly pleased Theodora had taken her helpful suggestion, and Theodora smiled. She took her l
eave and fled upstairs.
****
Safely alone in her own chamber, Theodora paced, her thoughts racing. Lucien was alive, just as she had always expected. She had been afraid to look at the newspaper, or to make any inquiries. She had hoped that she had escaped undetected, but something must have made him realize she had not died in the fire.
She didn’t know if it was best to stay hidden—how likely was it, after all, that Lucien would find himself invited to a great house like Longley?—or to run again. But although she had saved every penny she had earned here, it still wasn’t enough to run far or for very long. She had nowhere to go, no friends or family to rely upon. She had to stay, even though it was a form of torture to be near Jonathan and not act on the impulses that were beginning to invade her every thought.
She stopped pacing and sank onto the bed. She wondered why she had not seen him today. She had expected him to seek her out, was alternately hopeful and afraid. But perhaps he had not come because he was disgusted with her declaration. It was one thing to dally with a servant, quite another to do so with a married, lying servant.
A knock sounded on the door, and her head snapped up. Jonathan?
But of course it wasn’t. She opened the door to find Mrs. Appleton on the other side. “I brought you a tisane, my dear. I thought it might help.”
Theodora looked at the cup in the other woman’s hand but said nothing.
Mrs. Appleton gently pushed her way into the room and set the cup on the table next to the bed. She sat and patted the comforter beside her. Theodora sat obediently, unsure of what else to do.
“It’s not just a headache that ails you, is it?” Mrs. Appleton’s expression was so kind Theodora had to fight back tears. She shook her head and looked away. She hated to lie to this woman.
“Would you like to tell me about it?”
Theodora shook her head again. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Has it to do with London, and the reason you left so suddenly?”
Theodora’s gaze snapped up. She saw only concern, not judgment, but she could not trust anyone with her secret. She shook her head again and reached for the cup. She sipped, then put it down and faced the housekeeper.
Stirring Up the Viscount Page 13