Lewis’ smile was warm and sensual. “You are every bit as beautiful as I anticipated.”
This man was soon to be her husband. Despite his concerns, of which she fervently hoped she wasn’t one, she knew him to be a good man. That he didn’t speak of his past marriage didn’t concern her. One day, they would share those painful memories, although Lewis knew more about her life than anyone, apart from Sally.
Hebe returned his smile and placed her hand in his. Was Mama right? Had fortune turned in their favor?
~~~
Lewis shouldered his way through the chatting guests to his bride’s side. Hebe was bearing up well, surrounded by well-wishers, but he couldn’t fail to miss the hazy expression in her blue eyes. He decided to whisk her away as soon as he was able. It appeared the guests were only casual acquaintances of hers if that. And her mother didn’t know them at all. Aunt Prudence, on the other hand was enjoying herself flitting about like a purple butterfly. He didn’t disapprove. She’d done her best to turn this awkward affair into something bordering on normalcy.
He sighed, glad Emmy hadn’t come. She would have seen much to disturb her. His bride held herself rigid throughout the ceremony, and when he’d kissed her, her shoulders trembled beneath his hands. Would this marriage be better than the life she might have had? He wished he was sure that it wasn’t for entirely selfish reasons on his part that he’d married her. Attraction, affection, and the practicality of their union didn’t equate with love. And love, he couldn’t offer her.
Earlier, when he’d walked with Alistair to bid farewell to him at the door, his friend had clapped him on the back. “What a fortunate fellow you are, Lewis. Lady Chesterton is utterly charming. I would have snatched her up myself if I’d seen her first.”
Lewis chuckled. “Which is why I kept her a close secret.”
Alistair’s green eyes grew serious. “I hope when we meet again the problems that plague you are over. I understand why you didn’t wish to marry in London. But you may still face censure from Laura’s relatives. Her brother might not be able to resist.”
Lewis nodded. “I can handle Somerville. Michael’s said and done all he can to try to wound me and failed.” He frowned. “But he best take care where Hebe is concerned. As well as that friend of his Thorn.”
Alistair frowned. “Thorn can be all sweetness and light if he chooses. But I hear he’s a whoremonger and knocks the girls around in the Covent Garden brothels.”
Lewis nodded. “Strange company for Michael Somerville. He used to choose his friends more carefully. I wonder if he knows of it.”
Alistair stepped down onto the street. He turned. “See you in London.”
Lewis heaved in a breath of salty sea air as he watched Alistair drive away in his curricle. Somerville wouldn’t balk at spreading more vicious rumors about him in defense of his dead sibling. He was blinkered where his sister was concerned. But some of what he’d accused Lewis of in the past had enough basis in truth for him to believe it in his darkest moments.
When he made his way back inside to the ballroom, the vindictive Lady Stowe was talking to Hebe. His bride looked utterly miserable. Lewis approached them. He bowed to the gray-haired woman. “Lady Stowe.”
She tittered and curtsied. “Congratulations, Lord Chesterton. I was just saying to Lady Chesterton how well the ceremony turned out, thanks to Lady Prudence. Especially when one considers the speed with which it had to be arranged.”
“We are most grateful to Lady Prudence.” He turned to Hebe. “We should leave soon, my love. We’ve a long drive ahead of us.”
Hebe raised grateful eyes to his. “You must excuse me, Lady Stowe, I wish to speak to my aunt and my mother.”
“I feel I must thank you, Lady Stowe,” Lewis said after Hebe hurried away.
Lady Stowe simpered. “Whatever for, your lordship?”
“It was you who brought Hebe and I together.”
She fingered her amethyst necklace looking pleased. “It was I?”
“Indeed. So very romantic of you.”
Lady Stowe flushed. “Well, I could see you two were meant for each other.”
“You are a very wise lady, Lady Stowe.”
Lewis bowed and left the lady smiling.
Chapter Fifteen
Hebe smiled at her husband who stretched his length over the seat opposite her and her mother in the coach. He returned her smile, his eyes like warm chocolate, his coat stretched over his broad chest giving a glimpse of his fine physique. She loved him. He made her pulse gallop whenever he was near. And she liked him. She was eager to do whatever she could to make his life better. She knew it to be a daunting prospect for she feared he was still in love with his first wife. If Laura haunted his dreams and his quiet moments, what hope did she have? But she wasn’t one to give up easily, and certainly not on this, which mattered more to her than anything ever had before.
He raised his eyebrows. “What are you thinking about? You look so serious and determined.”
She hadn’t realized she’d squared her shoulders. “Just random thoughts,” she said turning to check on her mother who dozed beside her. “About what might await us in London.”
“I’m rather thinking of that myself.” He offered her his nonchalant lazy smile which never failed to charm her. But he could not be as at ease as he pretended. “Shall we hide away in my studio where no one can find us? I am eager to finish the sculpture.”
She doubted that was possible. “Your friends will want to see you.”
“I would like to introduce you to some friends, Hebe. My sister, Emmy and her husband are eager to meet you.”
“Yes, I look forward to that.” Hebe’s throat tightened. Might it have been their disapproval of her which kept them from attending the wedding? Perhaps they thought she’d connived to catch Lewis? It did happen. Marriage minded mamas keen to have a titled husband for their daughters used all sorts of tricks. She rubbed a hand over her forehead. It was silly to worry about these things. Deal with them when and if they arose.
The coach rocked as they crossed a bridge. Around a turn in the road they approached the tall imposing gates of her grandfather’s estate. “Here we are,” she said, wondering what awaited them in the towering old mansion. Her grandfather had condemned her and her mother after Papa died, and nothing Mama had said led Hebe to believe he’d changed his mind. Hebe didn’t understand why her mother insisted on returning and continuing to look after him. It made her wonder if her mother suffered through some sort of penance. Surely she didn’t agree with Grandfather’s harsh criticism?
Her mother opened her eyes. “We’re here?”
“Yes, Mama.”
The coach slowed in front of the house. When it halted, a footman came forward to put down the steps. Lewis leapt out to help them down. Hebe straightened her hat and faced the gloomy old house. When she was small, she suspected it to be filled with unhappy ghosts. Her mother’s wish to bring the family together seemed unlikely. Aunt Prudence had shown no desire to visit her father. She preferred to remain with her beehives, her bird, and her dog, not to mention Diggory, who was her most stalwart supporter. A more attractive prospect than here where she’d suffer the condemnation of a grumpy old father who’d never approved of her.
Hebe had become fond of Aunt Prudence and would miss her. She invited her to visit them in London although she doubted her aunt would. At least, she had ventured into Brighton society again.
The paneled great hall with its beamed ceiling was hung with the heads of stags and wild boar and oil paintings which had darkened so badly with age, it was impossible to decipher their subjects. A footman informed them his lordship was resting and would join them for dinner.
A maid led them up the twisting cedar staircase to their bedchambers. Hebe wondered if Lewis would share hers, after all, it was their wedding night. But he didn’t demur when allotted a separate chamber. Swallowing hurt and disappointment, Hebe wondered if Lewis considered this the wrong place for them
to begin their married life. Her mother’s chamber was next door with an interconnecting door. Or would he come to her in the night?
She changed into an evening gown of pink crepe then knocked on her mother’s door. When no one replied, she pulled on the latch. The room was empty. As she turned away, Lewis appeared from his bedchamber. “May I escort you downstairs, Lady Chesterton?”
“Oh,” she laughed. “I’d forgotten for a moment.”
He smiled. “Have you ever investigated this old house? There should be some interesting family portraits in the gallery.”
Her chest tightened. “Grandfather wrote that he’d placed my father’s portrait in the attic. Papa isn’t buried in the family plot either.”
He squeezed her arm. “I am sorry, Hebe. That should have occurred to me.”
Her grandfather awaited them on the sofa in the drawing room where her mother fussed with the pillows at his back.
“Good evening, Grandfather,” Hebe came forward to kiss his bristly cheek. He smelled of snuff. “You have met Lord Chesterton.”
His tired eyes assessed her. “You’ve grown into an attractive young woman,” he said, managing to ignore Lewis entirely.
His flattering remark surprised her. “Thank you, Grandfather.”
“No need to thank me. It was your mother’s doing. Got your good bone structure from her, not the Fenchurches. Rawboned lot.” Hebe’s mouth almost dropped open at the fond glance he cast her mother.
“Good to see you again, Lord Fenchurch,” Lewis said leaning over to shake his hand.
The old man complied while he eyed him. “Make sure you take good care of my granddaughter, Chesterton. Or I’ll cut you out of m’ will.”
A smile toyed at Lewis’s lips. “I have every intention of it, sir.”
They ate at the long table in the gloomy dining room filled with heavy walnut furniture. Her mother spoke to a maid. Soon more candles were brought.
“Keen on wasting my money on beeswax, Catherine?” Lord Fenchurch asked. He sounded gruff, but Hebe could see he didn’t mean it.
Her mother smiled, entirely unruffled. “Please bring his lordship’s elixir,” she said to the footman.
“Must I have that appalling concoction?” Her grandfather demanded. “Want to enjoy a glass of wine.”
“You may have both,” her mother said, as if talking to a child.
After the medicine was swallowed, her grandfather called for champagne. “We shall toast your wedding.”
The courses were brought, and the covers removed releasing a fragrant steam. Hebe was hungry, she’d eaten nothing at the wedding breakfast. The dishes were unexciting but well cooked: a boiled haunch of venison, lamb cutlets, braised celery and asparagus were followed by preserved peaches in cream, and finally, a selection of nuts with coffee.
Lewis kept up a lively conversation with her grandfather drawing him out to discuss his early years spent hunting in Africa. When she and her mother left them to their port, they were chuckling together about a story involving a hyena.
She sat with her mother in the drawing room. “Grandfather seems cheerier than I remember.”
“He is feeling better,” Mama said.
“Due to your tender care,” Hebe observed.
“He was lonely.”
“Well, of course he was. He alienated everyone. Even his own daughter,” she said forcefully. The fact that her mother planned to remain here to care for him still gnawed at her.
Mama nodded placidly. “I plan to have a family party here at Christmas. Prudence has promised to attend.”
“She did?”
“Yes. I hope to keep your grandfather in good health until the rift can be mended.”
“If anyone can, it is you, Mama.”
“One can only do so much, my dear. He is an old man.” Her mother poured the coffee which had been brought in by a footman. As she handed her the gold-rimmed cup and saucer, she glanced at her. “Are you happy, Hebe?”
“Yes, of course, Mama.”
“You care for your new husband?”
“Yes, I do.” Hebe couldn’t say the words. Lewis must first hear a declaration of love from her lips.
Mama sighed. “Then God has been good.”
After they retired, Hebe donned her prettiest nightgown and left her hair loose. She lay in bed wondering if Lewis would come to her. He and her grandfather were playing cards when she and her mother said goodnight.
Hebe opened her eyes to the morning light shining through a gap in the curtains. She’d been so dreadfully tired after the wedding and the trip to Tunbridge Wells that she’d fallen asleep within minutes. She sat up in bed with a gasp of dismay. Now she would never know if Lewis had come and found her asleep. And she was too embarrassed to ask him.
~~~
Once their goodbyes had been said, Lewis helped his bride into the coach and they set off for London. A fetching bonnet lined with white satin and trimmed with luscious roses framed her pretty face. She looked well rested. He had peeked in on her before he retired, perhaps with the hope that she might be waiting and invite him inside. He’d found her deeply asleep, her long hair spread over the pillow. He almost chuckled at the irony. She’d been exhausted, so it was better to leave any intimacy between them until they were relaxed and easy with each other. And alone.
He studied her curves beneath the fawn pelisse. They were alone now. He leaned forward. But despite smiling brightly at him, her eyes looked strained. “Are you worried about leaving your mother?”
“I confess I was. But not any longer. I’m convinced it’s what she wants to do.”
“Your grandfather is lucky to have her.”
“Yes, he is. He must realize that his cruel criticism of her was wrong. Mama always cared deeply for my father. For a while after he died, she suffered dreadfully. I feared she wasn’t herself.”
Lewis considered how difficult that must have been for Hebe. “Does she know about your work with artists?”
Hebe’s eyes grew owlish. “No. And she must never know, Lewis. It would hurt her terribly. I told her I worked at an inn.”
“Your mother won’t hear it from me.” He didn’t like to say that these things had a way of sneaking into the light of day. Artists weren’t known for their discretion. Personally, he rather liked the idea of having a wife who graced artists’ canvasses, but he wasn’t about to say it.
“I never modelled entirely nude,” Hebe said, as if guessing his thoughts. “Although I refused several offers.”
“Would you have stripped for me?” he asked while trying not to study her form and allow his imagination to take flight.
“I would have done it, had you asked me to.”
“Why me?”
“Because I trusted you.”
Her words moved him more than he thought possible. Laura had accused him unjustly as had Adela although he’d never been unfaithful with his models. He would always cherish Hebe’s trust in him. Right at this moment, he seemed to need it as much as breathing.
“Are you eager to return to work?” Hebe asked.
“Very much so.” It meant sculpting Aphrodite’s body, and the body which would inspire him would be Hebe’s. “What do you want from this marriage, Hebe?”
Her forehead wrinkled. “Contentment, I suppose. For myself and for you, Lewis.”
She didn’t love him, didn’t aspire to that emotion, it seemed. More disappointed than he would have believed a month ago, he cleared his throat. “I am hopeful that this marriage will serve us both. I want you to know that I shall not ask anything of you that you don’t wish to give.”
Hebe dropped her gaze to her hands. “Thank you, Lewis.”
They fell silent as the coach continued along the road to London.
Chapter Sixteen
Lewis appeared unaware of her discomfort at having first met the butler when she applied for a position as a model. While not bending from his stiff butler stance to welcome her with any sign of warmth, Stubbs was not imp
olite. He had gathered the upper servants together to meet their new mistress. Lewis and Hebe then went down to the servant’s hall where she was introduced to Cook and the rest of the staff.
She’d only glimpsed the receptions rooms that first day. Lewis took her through the elegant lofty rooms furnished with antiques and exotic carpets, the windows festooned with rich fabrics. On the floor above, the suite the former viscountess had occupied was now to be hers with an interconnecting door leading to a shared sitting room and Lewis’ rooms beyond. She stared at the white and gilt door for a long moment, wondering if he would ever appear through it avidly seeking her company. Left alone to change from her carriage gown, she took in the subdued cream and lavender furnishings. Elegant, but not to her taste. It was important for her to put her stamp on this house. She walked into the dressing room and removed her hat before the mirror. And it was in these rooms that she would begin to make changes.
As Hebe pulled off her gloves, she looked out the window at the tree-lined street below. Then she wandered about taking a silent inventory with an eye to new fabrics and wallpapers. An excellent flower painting done by a renowned artist, hung above the fireplace. But the work was far too small for the position, and failed to hide the faded square on the silk wallpaper from where another, larger painting used to hang. Might the other painting have been a portrait of Laura? Or was she becoming too sensitive? She became aware that she was searching for some sign of the former inhabitant of these rooms because she needed to understand her and why she’d left this elegant home and her handsome husband. Laura’s behavior seemed frightfully reckless and unjustified from what Hebe knew of Lewis’s character. But there was nothing here apart from a few books and a lingering delicate perfume which floated out when she opened the clothes press doors.
When the maid brought hot water, Hebe washed, changed into a loose-fitting spotted muslin morning gown, and tidied her hair. She ascended the staircase where statues nestled in niches. One was of a beautiful woman. Could that be Laura? Lewis had said Laura posed for him. Was she foolish to believe she could replace this woman in his heart?
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