A knock on the door drew them apart and sent Hebe scuttling behind the screen and Lewis grabbing his trousers and shirt.
After the footman brought in their luncheon, set it on the table, and left, Hebe emerged shyly tying the belt of her wrap.
Lewis felt alive. He gazed at the statue. It would be his piece de resistance. “Come and eat, Hebe. I’m fired up and keen to get to work.”
Chapter Nineteen
Lewis worked fast, the marble chips falling at his feet on the cloth stretched over the floor. When Hebe left to dress for her sojourn with Emmy, he came to say goodbye to her in the entry hall and held her by the shoulders.
“Thomas will accompany you. He’s my most reliable footman. He will carry your parcels and see you safely into the carriage. If you’re concerned about anything, you must tell him.”
“Molly will be with me,” she protested. “Your sister might suspect something.”
He shook his head. “Tell her I am a hopelessly besotted husband.”
She laughed. “I cannot tell her that.”
“Emmy would recognize that condition immediately.” He grinned. “You have only to look at Colin.”
She smiled as she settled in the carriage. The fact that he compared himself to Colin would be terribly sweet but for the disturbing mystery of the letter which seemed to hang over their heads like the sword of Damocles. She turned to wave goodbye to him where he stood in the street and trembled at the memory of their lovemaking. When he looked at her now, she found passionate desire in his eyes, unlike the expression in them before, when she was sure it was only concern and a wish to aid someone he’d rescued. She was confident that in time, what he felt for her now would turn to love. Perhaps not as he had once loved Laura, but she was willing to accept that.
Later, when she and Emmy entered the modiste’s rooms, Madame LaFontaine welcomed them, called for wine and sweet biscuits then launched into a discussion on what would suit a young lady of Hebe’s coloring. Madame suggested Pomona green, the color of green apples. A bonnet and a redingote of the same color, lined in slate silk over a white walking dress, sounded perfectly lovely. The modiste went on to describe a dove gray spencer trimmed with rose pink satin worn over a bright gray bombazine carriage dress. She brought out a bolt of light lavender-colored figured satin for an evening dress and talked of rosettes and sleeves made of fine net.
Hebe was measured and pinned into two pretty dresses that Madame had on hand, one of primrose and green, and the other pale blue with a triple flounce around the hem. Emmy later explained they would have been for another woman’s order. Hebe was turned this way and that until her head swam. She feared Emmy would become fatigued before they were done. But once Madame was satisfied she vociferously saw them off, promising to find the perfect materials for a habit and ball gown.
“I hope it wasn’t too much for you,” Hebe said anxiously as Thomas assisted them into the carriage.
Emmy certainly looked well enough, her cheeks pink as she laughed. “It was fun! I’d very much like to return tomorrow when you are fitted for your habit and the decision is made for the ballgown. Afterward we can shop in Bond Street for accessories.”
“I’m not sure your husband will be pleased,” Hebe said. “I wouldn’t want him to think poorly of me for dragging you about.”
Emmy laughed. “Colin fusses so. He is a lamb really. Except when he’s in court.” She gave a gentle shudder. “I shouldn’t like to be the hapless person quaking beneath his questioning.”
Obviously, Emmy adored her husband. “Lewis has returned to work on the sculpture. He has great hopes that this one will be special.”
“You are posing for it?”
Hebe’s face heated. “Yes. The statue is of Aphrodite.”
Emmy’s pretty brown eyes gleamed. “I cannot wait to see it.”
When Hebe returned home, she went straight up to the studio, pulling off her gloves. Hard at work, Lewis raised his head when she came in. “Did you order all your furs and furbelows?”
“Not all.” She walked across the studio to study the statue. “Oh you’ve done so much, Lewis. It’s wonderful.” Aphrodite, bare breasted, stood on a plinth with one leg slightly bent. The draped cloth cloaked her modesty, but dropped away behind to reveal the smooth curves of her derriere. It was beautiful, but Hebe couldn’t relate the statue to herself. “Emmy and I are to return to Madame’s tomorrow. And then we’ll go to Bond Street and visit her milliner’s shop and the bootmakers and then there’re gloves and….” She paused. “It all sounds terribly expensive.”
“No matter. Have the bills sent to me.” He kissed her.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest breathing him in. “Do you want me to pose for you?”
“Ah, no.” A laugh rumbled his chest. “I would find myself wanting to subject you to that uncomfortable couch again.” He drew away. “We didn’t get much sleep last night. Perhaps a rest before dinner?”
Gazing into his eyes, Hebe nodded as an ache formed low in her stomach. She’d been thinking of him all afternoon.
“And you can tell me about your new wardrobe,” Lewis grinned, took her hand, and lead her down the stairs.
“I shouldn’t wish to bore you,” Hebe said. “My father’s mind seemed to wander when Mama discussed fashion.” She almost gasped. Here she was talking about the past without the usual unwelcome, unbearable sadness. She would write to her mother as soon as she had a free moment and tell her how happy she was. Hebe’s conscience pricked her. Here she was in absolute heaven while Mama was living in that mausoleum caring for her bad-tempered grandfather. She would couch the invitation for her to come to London in more persuasive terms.
~~~
The next morning, Lewis woke next to a fragrant curvaceous body curled up beside him in his bed. Hebe still slept. Understandable, they’d made love for half the night and she had proved to be a delightful lover, mischievous, flirty, beautiful, and very good at seduction. He smiled. Her hair in a tangle, she looked delicious and much too inviting.
He sobered at the thought of visiting Michael this morning and what he might learn from him.
Hebe stirred. “Good morning, sweetheart.” Lewis gathered her close. He breathed in the scent of lavender. Her warm body sent a bolt of desire through him which he was determined to ignore. “Sadly, I must rise and send for my valet.”
She reached up and eased a lock of his hair back from his forehead. “You are going to see Lord Somerville?”
“After breakfast.”
“What will you do if he can’t help?”
He drew away before his resolve weakened and threw back the covers. “I’ve been thinking about that. Laura’s maid left directly after she did and now resides in the country caring for her sick mother. Guilford is little more than a half-day’s ride. Lilly was never questioned about Laura’s death. But she might know something. Lady’s maids are in a unique position, are they not? There’s not much they miss.”
Hebe rose and slipped into her robe. “I wish I could come with you. Emmy and I are to return to Madame LaFontaine and afterward, we will go shopping. I imagine I won’t be home until late.”
He kissed her. “Enjoy the day, Hebe. If I do go, I’ll try to get back before nightfall. Take Thomas with you.”
His former brother-in-law was sawing into a steak in the breakfast room when Lewis was announced. Lewis joined him at the table and accepted a cup of coffee.
Michael’s angry gaze sliced into him. “I need more time. There’s no one I can think of who had anything to do with Laura or could have written that letter. Nor signed it, W.”
“Give me the names of those Laura spent time with, Michael.”
Michael’s gaze swung away, and he shrugged. “No idea, Lewis. She was her own person. I accompanied her to parties, balls, and the like, but then we’d part company. She was not a young woman I needed to govern.”
“You mean it was her husband’s responsibility
.”
“You could hardly be that when she no longer lived under your roof. I wasn’t even aware she was seeing Geoffrey Lancaster. Laura didn’t seek my advice. Merely left me a note and took off with him. I daresay she hoped to divorce you and marry him.”
Lewis clamped his lips on a rebuke. “I would have agreed to it.”
Michael forked a piece of meat and chewed for a moment in silence. “I doubt Lancaster would have married her.” He took a sip of ale. “Laura wasn’t thinking clearly, obviously.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Before she left me, she seemed nervous, I put it down to how it was between us, but now I’ve seen the letter, it’s occurred to me that she was afraid. She’d left London with Lancaster to get away from this man.”
Lewis stood and rested his hands on the back of the chair. “I will find out who this man is, Michael. I’m sorry if you want to bury the whole distressing business.”
Michael jumped up and thumped the table, spilling ale, his face reddened. “By God, you’re wrong, Lewis. I want his name. I want to get my hands on this devil as much as you do.”
Lewis suspected that Michael’s vicious condemnation of him was also directed at himself, because as Laura’s brother he’d been unable to protect her. “I’ll keep you informed of anything I discover, no matter how insignificant. And I should like the same courtesy from you.”
Michael nodded. “You have it.”
Lewis returned home and sent for his curricle. Still early when he set out for Guilford, he reached the town by two o’clock, having stopped to eat and rest his horses along the way. He continued his journey to Lilly Moore’s cottage on the outskirts, a small thatched dwelling surrounded by a garden with more vegetables than flowers, and a goat tethered nearby. When he pulled up the horses, Lewis saw her bent over the vegetable patch.
Lilly’s eyes widened as he entered the gate and strode toward her over the path, brushing away overhanging lavender bushes. “Lord Chesterton?”
“Good day to you, Lilly. I trust I find you well?”
Her fingers fussed with the cap over her brown hair, and she brushed the front of her apron. “I am, thank you, milord.”
“And your mother?”
“Not in the best of health. May I offer you a libation?”
“No, thank you. I don’t like to keep the horses waiting. I need to ask you a few questions about when you were in service to my late wife.” He looked at a garden seat. “May we sit?”
She swallowed, looking uneasy. “Very well, milord.”
Lewis sat back and observed her. She looked thinner, her hands red and worn, and not the pretty fresh-faced young maid he remembered. He moved to put her at her ease allowing his gaze to drift away over the neat garden. “I imagine lady’s maids learn a lot about their mistresses,” he said conversationally. “A lady tends to confide in them.” He turned slightly on the seat to look at her. “Did my wife ever confide in you, Lilly? You left my house at the same time as Laura, so I never thought to ask you.”
Lilly’s gaze fell to her hands clutched in her lap. “Her ladyship did sometimes, but I’m not sure what…”
“There is a chance we may now find out who killed Laura. I have come in the hope that you might be able to help me.”
She frowned, threading her fingers together. “I don’t know if I can.”
“It was initially thought that her death was the result of a robbery. Well, there have been several theories, but recently, a letter was found among Laura’s things, signed W. A vicious threatening letter, Lilly. I need to know who my wife was seeing before she left me.” He sighed. “I want to put a stop to the speculation which is still rife after all this time. And now that I have remarried, Lady Chesterton deserves an end to it too.”
“Oh! Congratulations, milord.” Lilly smiled. “I’m that pleased to hear it.”
“So.” He raised his eyebrows. Would she reveal the secrets he suspected she’d promised Laura always to keep? “It would not be breaking her trust, Lilly,” he said gently. “Laura would want you to tell me.”
“There was a gentleman, sir. She used to laugh about him.” A small smile drifted across her lips. “We both laughed, because she said she had him wrapped around her little finger. He was just a conquest. Her ladyship enjoyed how her beauty affected men.”
“Who was he, Lilly? Do you know his name?”
She pinched her lips. “Not his proper name. Just something she called him. Whip.”
Lewis’ intake of breath drew in a lungful of earthy garden odors. “Why Whip? Did she tell you?”
Lilly flushed and dropped her gaze. “Something indecent. Sorry to tell you that, milord,” she whispered.
“Did you ever see this man?”
She widened her eyes. “Never.”
“Did Laura describe this fellow to you?”
“He was big and broad-shouldered, with hands like plates,” she said. “A gentleman, but there was another side to him. He was dangerous.” She cast him a sympathetic gaze. “Milady liked that about him. But she said no woman in her right mind would marry him. One doesn’t marry a brute, Lilly, she would say with that delightful laugh she had.”
Tears flooded her green eyes. “I wondered after, if I should have written to you when I heard, but as her ladyship died far away from London in the company of another gentleman, I saw no sense in it.”
Nor had he thought to question her. But even if he had, he would not have asked the right questions. His chest ached as he stood and took out his wallet removing several bills. “I am grateful you’ve told me this, Lilly. I would be very pleased to ease your way a little if I may.” He reached out, took her hand in his gloved one, and placed the bills in it.
Lilly flushed crimson. She cast a quick glance at the window where her mother’s face had suddenly appeared, then folded her fingers over the money in her palm. “Thank you, milord. I hope I’ve been of some help. You was good to me and I wish you and her ladyship happy.”
Lewis climbed into his curricle and turned the horses’ heads for home. He did not have this man’s name, but he still felt he’d learned something of note. A big brutish man, and he had an inkling who that might be. The wind picked up. Dark clouds on the horizon told him a storm was rolling in. He cursed, hoping the rain would hold off, anxious to return to London and Hebe.
Chapter Twenty
Hebe arrived home at five o’clock and discovered that Lewis, as he’d mentioned he might, had gone to Guilford. While Thomas carried in her parcels, she sank onto a chair in her bedchamber and eased off her shoes, tired after a busy day.
An indigo blue wool fabric had been agreed upon for her habit to be decorated with braid and frog fastenings. Underwear and nightgowns were purchased. Afterward, she and Emmy shopped in Regent Street and the new Burlington Arcade where a multitude of shops in one place quite took Hebe’s breath away.
Hours later, with the carriage filled with her purchases, they’d stopped at Gunter’s for iced refreshments before returning home.
Hebe with Molly’s eager assistance, opened the hatboxes and shoe boxes, and untied the brown paper parcels containing gloves, shawls, and reticules. Everything was just perfect, and Hebe couldn’t wait to parade before Lewis in a new gown with the elegant wide-brimmed Italian straw hat dressed with silk flowers.
While Molly tidied them away, Hebe walked to the window and stared down at the wet street. She nibbled on a fingernail. Dusk had fallen and with it bad weather which looked as if it had set in.
An hour later, she refused dinner, for Lewis had not yet returned. Neither was he home by ten o’clock. Molly brought in a tray of soup and sandwiches which Hebe could not eat. She insisted her maid go to bed.
The weather worsened, and lightning lit up the sky outside the window. Hebe went to bed when she’d grown tired of walking backward and forward across the carpet. It was better for her to be there if Lewis should arrive and not appear to be worried. He might have had to put up at an inn. To nego
tiate country roads in the dark during bad weather was dangerous. She almost convinced herself he had. He was very fond of his horses.
She lay back on the pillow and closed her eyes. Despite her unease she drifted off for a minute or two. Then she woke with a gasp. Might she have heard something? She sat up in bed. Had Lewis returned? Was he in his bedchamber not wishing to awaken her?
Hebe left the bed and put on her robe and slippers. She picked up the candle and opened the sitting room door to cross to Lewis’ bedchamber.
She’d taken only two steps when an arm snaked around her middle pulling her off her feet, causing the candle to fall to the carpet, the flame stuttering. Her yell was smothered by a big hand that covered her mouth. A growl near her ear. “Where is the letter?”
A gentleman’s voice. He smelled of expensive cologne. Hebe’s heart banged against her ribs. She shook her head.
“I am going to take away my hand.” His breath was hot on her neck. “I have a knife. If you scream, I’ll cut your throat. Don’t think I won’t.”
She nodded. With a cold twist of fear, she realized this man meant every word. He uncovered her mouth, but kept his hands on her shoulders, turned away from him. “The letter.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Let’s stop playing games, we shall look for it. Unless you know where it is.”
Hebe gasped. “I don’t. “
“Then we shall find it.” He reached down and picked up the candle. “Perhaps the library or your husband’s bedchamber.” He gave her a push.
“Lewis doesn’t have it.”
“Don’t lie to me.” The man growled with impatience. He pushed her hard toward Lewis’ bedchamber door, and she stumbled. “If we don’t find it, I shall wait for him to return and remove it by force. Now you wouldn’t want that, would you?”
She shook her head and made to turn. To try to reason with him.
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