A Gift From a Goddess

by Maggi Andersen

  Hebe entered the library, where he had said he would be, and saw him seated at an elegant rosewood desk, sifting through his mail. He rose with a smile. “Shall I send for tea? Or do you care for Madeira?”

  “Tea, please.” She sat on a comfortable leather chair.

  He pulled the bell cord then returned to pick up a letter from the desk. “The Bow Street Runner investigating Marigold’s death has sent news.”

  She sat forward. “Oh? What does he say?”

  “A witness has been found. Apparently, Marigold’s brother, Seth was seen lurking outside Walter Ashe’s home in Holland Park on the day she died.”

  “Then Seth has been arrested?” Expectation that Marigold’s murder might have been solved made her heart beat in her throat.

  Lewis scanned the missive. “No, unfortunately. He is still at large. Mr. Bright is on his trail.”

  Meanwhile Seth was free to do more harm. Hebe shivered.

  Lewis came to perch on the arm of her chair. He reached down and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You are safe here with me, Hebe. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  “I know, Lewis. I’m very grateful.”

  He sat on the chair opposite her. “No need for that.”

  A knock on the door made them both start. A footman brought in the tea tray.

  When the servant left, Hebe poured the tea. She handed Lewis a cup and saucer. He took it and nodded, but seemed preoccupied. Was it because of Seth or something she said? Gratitude failed to convey how much she cared for him, yet she seemed incapable of saying more, fearing it would embarrass both of them. “When will you begin work?”

  “Tomorrow.” He stirred his tea.

  Nervous expectation settled in her stomach.

  He finished his tea and returned to his desk choosing another note. “We have a dinner engagement tonight, I hope you won’t be too tired.”

  She swallowed. “No… of course not.”

  He looked up and smiled. “My sister and her husband have invited a few friends to meet you.”

  “Friends?” she asked in a strained voice.

  “Emmy will choose wisely,” he said with a smile “She tells me you’ve met.”

  “Yes, during my Season. She was most kind and agreeable. Not every lady is so generous to the fresh crop of debutantes.”

  She fought not to show her panic as her mind wandered through her sorry lot of clothing in search of an evening gown. Anything glamorous had been sold. She would have to alter her wedding dress and hope that Lewis wouldn’t recognize it.

  Lewis lifted his head from his pile of papers. “If you’ll excuse me for a few hours, when I’m finished here I’ll go up to my studio and make preparations for tomorrow.”

  She put down her cup and rose. “I’ll see to the unpacking.”

  “Stubbs is presently interviewing young women for a suitable ladies’ maid. He’s sent a servant to assist you in the interim. You’ll get final say, of course.”

  “Thank you, Lewis.” Grateful that he’d considered her feelings on this matter at least, she left him to his mail.

  In her chamber, the maid was shaking out her forlorn array of dresses. She curtsied. “I’m Molly, milady.”

  “I am pleased to meet you, Molly. Could you fetch me scissors, needle and thread?”

  “Yes, milady.” Molly hurried from the room.

  She returned shortly afterward with a cane sewing basket. “This belongs to the housekeeper, milady.”

  “I have yet to meet the housekeeper. What is her name?”

  “Mrs. Priddy. She is in the country at his lordship’s estate at present.”

  Mrs. Priddy’s basket was a surprising Aladdin’s cave of jewel-like ribbons and bits of lace. “My goodness. We shall find everything we need here. Take out the cream silk, Molly. I wish to alter it.”

  Molly emerged from the trunk with Hebe’s beautiful wedding gown held in her arms. “I’m told I’m good with a needle, milady.”

  “Are you, indeed! Then shall we begin? Some of this pale pink ribbon and the silk roses should add the perfect touch, I believe.”

  The freckle-faced maid grinned. “That will be very pretty, milady. And perhaps some of the roses for your hair?”

  Hebe took a deep relieved breath. “An excellent suggestion, Molly.”

  ~~~

  Lewis made his way up to his attic studio. He and Hebe had been easier with each other before they married. Now a crippling politeness had descended between them. He was dammed if he understood the reason. Or how he might change it. Not by forcing his way into her bed uninvited. They would need to share some intimacy before that happened, and he admitted he was at fault. He entered the sun-filled room. A lesson in patience, for him perhaps. But he wasn’t a particularly patient man.

  The women he’d known were always confident of their feminine wiles. They could wrap a man around their little finger and didn’t hesitate to do so when the need took them. He was certain that Hebe would never have behaved in such a fashion. Not even before her life was ripped apart.

  Hebe was the most unaffected female, apart from Emmy, that he’d encountered. It was one of her qualities which he most admired. He’d come to realize that since Laura, he’d used his cynicism as a shield to protect his heart. Hebe’s unaffected honesty seemed to have stripped him bare. His low moods had vanished since she entered his life. It was a double-edged sword, Lewis feared if he were swept into an imbroglio again he had nothing left with which to fight.

  A bird flew above the studio’s glass ceiling, its shadow darting across the floor. The room smelled of ash, candle smoke and beeswax. When he removed the cotton cloth from the statue, the sunlight fell upon the beautiful stone head and swan-like neck. Lewis ran his hands over the marble. Encountering some dimples he went to the table to select a file. He was still working when his butler appeared to advise him it was time to dress for dinner.

  An hour later, as he waited in the entry hall, Hebe descended the staircase dressed in a cream gown adorned with pink ribbons and roses. More roses were tucked into her fair curls. With an urgent wish to kick himself, Lewis came forward to greet her. “What a pretty gown and how very lovely you look in it, Hebe.” He settled the evening cloak over her shoulders. “I imagine you will require a ballgown, and a riding habit. I’m sure my sister will recommend a dressmaker should you need one.”

  She smiled. “How generous you are Lewis.”

  Lewis resisted clenching his jaw as he escorted her out to the waiting carriage. So, he was generous to a fault, and she was grateful. Courtesy and respect had their place, but what he wanted right now was to take her back up to his bedchamber and remove that charming dress, which he suspected was her altered wedding gown. Of course she had no suitable evening gowns, having been absent from Society for some time. Couldn’t she have told him? He was a man after all. And most men were scatter witted when it came to women’s fashion. No, it was like Hebe to attend to the matter herself. He smiled, determined to rectify the situation, and see her clothed as she should be in the finest gowns. “I am very much looking forward to this evening.”

  Hebe’s blue eyes clouded. “So am I, Lewis.”

  He squeezed her arm before he helped her into the town coach. “I know you will enjoy yourself tonight.” He would make sure of it.

  In his sister, and brother-in-law’s smoky, warm drawing room scented with flowers in vases placed on almost every surface, a small group were chatting and drinking wine. They all paused as he and Hebe entered. His hand on Hebe’s arm, he felt her falter, and gently pushed her forward. Colin had chosen the guests well. Lewis knew and liked everyone present.

  “Chesterton, how long has it been?” Lord Braithwaite called, crossing the room to them.

  “Too long. I have missed your ribald sense of humor,” Lewis said. “Hebe, may I introduce this reprobate friend of mine to you, Lord Braithwaite?”

  Hebe curtsied prettily.

  “Lady Chesterton.” Lord Braithwaite raised
her hand to his lips. “You shall not keep this delightful young lady from us, Lewis. Invitations will be flooding in now it’s known you are back in London.”

  As Emmy took Hebe around the room and introduced her to the guests, Lewis had no doubt that everyone here tonight would accept her.

  The evening passed pleasantly with an excellent dinner, interesting conversation and afterward, whist and backgammon played at the tables set up in the salon. Lewis observed Hebe for any sign that she might be out of her depth, but because their friends would never mention her past, she seemed to be enjoying herself. After all, this was the life she had known. The one she was brought up to take her place in. It warmed him to know that he had been able to restore her to that position and tried not to think that their life spent behind closed doors may not be quite what he hoped for. He watched as she laughed at one of Lord Braithwaite’s jests. She had charmed him.

  Proud of her, his gaze took in the delightful curve of her cheek, the milk-pale skin of her décolletage, her abundant fair hair dressed with flowers. She was like a flower herself, and he decided that when they returned home, in good spirits after a pleasant evening, would be the perfect time to consummate the marriage.

  As couples began to depart, Emmy appeared at his elbow. “Hebe has coped well.”

  “Yes. Thank you for doing this, Emmy.”

  “This was easy.” She gazed up at him her brown eyes troubled. “It may not be so when you venture out into Society. There are those gunning for you who will dredge up Hebe’s past.”

  “I know.”

  “You and Hebe will have to be strong and united,” she stressed.

  He raised an eyebrow in response to her perspicacity. “You believe we aren’t?”

  “I sense a restraint between you which I hope will resolve itself quickly.”

  “This is our honeymoon, Emmy. It takes a while to adjust.”

  Emmy wouldn’t understand that. She and Colin had been mad for each other from the first. “The gossip is still rife concerning your model’s death. It seems to have stirred up Laura’s murder as well.”

  He moved his shoulders in a shrug of anger. “I guessed as much. Perhaps I should take Hebe to the country for a while.”

  “That might be wise.”

  “But it only puts off the inevitable, doesn’t it,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Especially if the murderer isn’t found.”

  Emmy nodded. “One hopes he will be, and soon.”

  Colin joined them. “Lord Braithwaite is about to leave, best we see him to the door.” He took her arm. “How are you my dear? Not too tired?”

  “No, I am perfectly well, my love,” Emmy replied. “Please do not fuss. Women have babies all the time.”

  “Hebe and I will say our goodbyes to everyone and depart,” Lewis said. Now that he’d decided to join Hebe in her bed, he found himself suddenly impatient.

  The anxiety did not fade from Colin’s face as he led Emmy away. He was a serious man who tended to worry, but his concern for Emmy left Lewis uneasy.

  In the carriage Lewis put his arm around Hebe and drew her close. “You enjoyed this evening?”

  “I did. Everyone was so kind.”

  He tightened his arm enjoying her curvaceous body leaning against him. “I hoped you would.” He lowered his face to her hair and breathed in fragrant lavender. “I was proud of you, knowing how difficult it is for you to face Society again. But I’m not at all surprised you did so well.”

  She turned her face up to him. “Thank…”

  “I don’t want your thanks, Hebe, or your gratitude. I am a lucky man to have married you.” He lowered his head to kiss her. Her lips were soft, her breath sweet, and she placed a hand on his shoulder and kissed him back before the carriage jerked to a stop.

  “I will try very hard not to thank you, Lewis,” she said with a grin and the groom opened the door.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Hebe entered the house with Lewis. She was happy. A little light-headed from the wine and champagne, but quite definitely happy. She had feared the evening would be a disaster. But it had been delightful. Everyone so welcoming. And Lady De Lacy was so kindhearted. Hebe found no sign of disappointment or criticism in her warm gaze, and her husband was utterly charming.

  As they were preparing to leave, Lady de Lacy had offered to assist Hebe with her new wardrobe. They arranged to visit a modiste she’d recommended the next afternoon. Hebe was cautiously confident that she and Emmeline would become good friends.

  And Lewis kissed her. A different kiss to the light touch of lips she’d received from him in the past. This kiss spelled intent and might have deepened had they not arrived home at that precise moment. Would he visit her tonight? When Lewis inquired if she was tired after her long day she’d been careful to deny it.

  On the stairs, she averted her eyes from the bust which must be of Laura, for no other model could possibly be as delicate of feature, or carved by Lewis in such loving detail, and resolutely continued to her bedchamber. Lewis had raised the suggestion of spending time at his estate. She’d visited Bath many times as a child, and the countryside surrounding that town was very familiar to her. Her memories were not all sad ones. She had enjoyed her childhood.

  Molly waited for her, drooping sleepily in a chair. She jumped up when Hebe came in.

  “I told you to go to bed, Molly,” Hebe scolded.

  “I’ll sleep better knowing I’ve done me job proper, milady.”

  Hebe smiled. “Take out the white lawn nightgown with blue ribbons threaded through the lace.”

  “Yes, milady.”

  After Hebe washed and changed, Molly drew the brush over Hebe’s long locks. “You enjoyed your evening, milady?”

  Hebe yawned behind a hand. Heavens, she must not fall asleep in case… “Yes it was most pleasant, thank you. Don’t braid my hair, Molly. And I shan’t wear a cap.”

  In the mirror, Molly stifled a grin. She replaced the brush on the dressing table and bobbed. “Will that be all, milady?”

  “Yes. Do go to bed,” Hebe said amused. “I’ll sleep until late morning, so don’t bring my coffee until I summon you.” Perhaps Lewis would be with her and they would breakfast together.

  Her stomach knotting with nerves, Hebe wandered from her bedchamber to the dressing room, listening for him, her heart beating unnaturally fast. If he did choose to visit her, he should find her tucked up in bed, she decided. But she feared she would fall asleep again as it was quite late. With the amount of wine she’d drunk during the evening she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep her eyes open once her head hit the pillow. She selected one of Laura’s books then climbed into bed and settled beneath the covers.

  She opened the compendium of poems; a weighty tome. Did she imagine the pages smelled of Laura’s perfume? Unsettled, she flicked through searching for a favorite poem of hers. A piece of paper dropped onto the coverlet. A letter, the words cramped, with some underscored. Hebe picked it up and held it close to the candle, her veins turning to ice with every word. It was direct and brutal:

  Laura,

  Your threat to tell your husband about us has made me angry. And you really don’t want to do that. You will tell no one, Laura. Why? Because I will kill you if you do. If Chesterton or anyone learns what occurred between us, or the fellow you’ve discarded me for like a piece of lint on your sleeve, those you care about will die with you.

  It was signed W with a wild flourish.

  Hebe threw back the covers, bunched up her nightgown and ran across the room in her bare feet. She pulled open the door to the adjoining sitting room and stumbled into the dark. Unable to find her way forward and too panicked to return for the candle, she yelled for Lewis.

  Lewis appeared through the door of his suite throwing a shaft of candlelight across the room. The silk dressing gown swirling about him his long strides brought him quickly to her side. “What has happened, Hebe? Did you have a nightmare?”

  She wordlessly handed him the
letter.

  He took it from her, grasped her hand, and drew her back to her bedchamber. He sat with her on the bed while he read the letter.

  “It fell out of a book I found in the boudoir.” She watched as his jaw tightened. He cursed softly. For a moment he looked as if he didn’t see her. His tight expression began to unnerve her. “Who is this W person, Lewis?”

  His lips thinned. “No idea, Hebe. But I intend to find out.”

  She breathed in shuddering gasps and clasped her hands together, desperately sad for him and longing to ease his suffering. But she daren’t touch him as he sat rigidly beside her. He was grief-stricken, and she was afraid he would brush her away. “What will you do?”

  “I’ll take this to Laura’s brother, Lord Somerville. He may recognize the handwriting.”

  “Crabbe isn’t the murderer?”

  “Seems not.”

  “Will you visit Lord Somerville in the morning?”

  “This must be dealt with now. It’s late but he will see me.” He put his arm around her and hugged her. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” She took a deep breath of his familiar scent and citrus soap.

  “There are only a few hours until dawn and you need your sleep. Call your maid. She can stay with you.”

  “There’s no need to disturb Molly,” Hebe said, climbing beneath the covers. “I am perfectly safe here.” She wished Lewis would stay with her, but he was already on his feet his expression one of intense resolve.

  He smoothed her bedclothes. “Don’t worry, Hebe. It will be dealt with.”

  “But whoever he is, he sounds very dangerous.”

  “I’ve no doubt he is,” he murmured in a low growl.

  He bent and kissed her lingeringly on the lips. “Try to get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Lewis strode from the room. Had he known any of this? He seemed terribly shocked by it. The writer of the letter must have feared Laura would tell, so he murdered her. Did Lewis have any idea who he was? Would he go after the man? She wasn’t confident that Lewis would leave it to Bow Street to deal with him. As the door closed behind him, she shivered and pulled the covers up to her chin.