Kendal

by Sasha Cottman

  She blinked back tears and shook her head. Speaking to another person about what was happening to her body would only serve to make it more real. Denial was a friend she was going to hold fast onto until it was too late. “I don’t know what you mean. I had some fish at supper; it must be that.”

  The other tenant released her hold on Mercy, then stepped back. She nodded, but the wary look on her face said she didn’t believe a word of what Mercy had just said. “Alright. But you can only keep this a secret for so long. The truth will come out. If I can you give a piece of advice, go, and find the chap and talk to him. If he is a decent man, he will offer to do the right thing and marry you. If he does not, then he is a cad and you will have to come up with another solution.”

  The woman walked back into the apartment building and closed the door, leaving Mercy standing alone in the yard. Another solution. The thought of what that meant made her stomach turn once more. There were options for a girl in her condition—drastic measures which could be taken.

  She put a hand over her belly and rested it for a moment. “What the hell am I going to do?”

  There were a number of decisions laid before her. Some already had their answers. She knew enough other girls, friends, who had sought solutions to an unwanted pregnancy, but in her heart, Mercy was sure she couldn’t be one of them.

  She swallowed deeply, trying to stop her roiling stomach from once again necessitating a hurried visit to the privy. In a short while she had to leave the house and undertake the long walk to Windmill Street. The trip normally took just on an hour, but over the past few mornings it had taken much longer. Stopping every so often to be ill was an inconvenience she did not need.

  When Mercy finally made it to Follett House, she was greeted with the sight of an empty ballroom. No Kendal. Disappointment stirred in her heart. How much she longed to see his smiling face. To feel the warmth of his touch.

  She set about checking the piano, ensuring that it was still in perfect working order as it had been nearly every day since she had first started coming to Windmill Street. When her small piece of tuning was done, she took a seat at the piano and practiced the scales Kendal had taught her. She found it hard to concentrate. Her mind too caught up in wondering where he was and when she would see him again.

  Every so often her gaze would drift from the piano to the door. She silently prayed for him to step through it and come to greet her. For him to hold her in his arms and tell her he loved her. That would be the one moment in the day when she could believe that everything would be alright.

  The waves of nausea still kept rolling over her as she played. Every so often she stopped and made as unhurried an exit out the servants’ entrance and to the garden privy as she was able. She had been fortunate not to encounter any servants during those trips; however, her luck would eventually give out.

  Mercy had made it back inside and was seated at the piano tossing up as to whether she should wait for Kendal to arrive, or leave and let Mister Green settle the bill, when the door of the ballroom opened.

  Her heart skipped a beat, but instead of Kendal walking through the door, it was Lady Lavinia Follett. Damn.

  Mercy had only met her once before. Reid’s new wife seemed a nice enough woman. She recalled Lady Follett having a small child, a boy named Jonathan. The young lad was not with his mother this time.

  She rose from the piano stool and made a quick curtsey, using the piano to hold herself steady. Dehydration had left her feeling light-headed and a little giddy.

  “Mercy, good morning,” said Lavinia.

  “Lady Follett,” she replied.

  A soft smile appeared on Lavinia’s lips. “Sorry, I forget that is who I am now. There are times when I have to stop and remind myself that I am Reid’s wife.”

  A look of love and wedded bliss shone on her face. Kendal had told her that Reid and Lavinia had enjoyed a whirlwind romance which had resulted in a private wedding here at the house just before the charity concert.

  Lavinia crossed the floor and came to Mercy’s side. She met her gaze and a frown appeared on Lavinia’s face. “Are you unwell, Mercy?”

  Mercy gritted her teeth. This was the second woman who had asked her about her health this morning. If her morning sickness was that obvious, it was only a matter of time before Kendal saw it too. She dreaded what he would say, what he would do.

  “A fish pie at the tavern last night. Obviously, it hadn’t been cooked enough,” she said.

  Lavinia pursed her lips, then sighed. “Did you know that the servants in the kitchen can see out into the garden? Because if you did, then you would know that they would have been able to observe you making repeated trips to the privy this morning.”

  An icy hand of fear touched her. Her secret was on the verge of no longer being just hers.

  Lavinia reached out and brushed her hand over Mercy’s cheek. She looked deep into her eyes. “Your face is pale and there is a bead of sweat on your brow. People see these things. He . . . will see this.”

  Mercy shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “No? My mistake then. But just in case you were wondering where Lord Hartley is this morning, he and his father are attending a private meeting at Carlton House with the Prince of Wales. Lord Follett and Lord Morrison have also been asked to attend.”

  “But not Sir Callum Sharp?” she replied.

  “No, unfortunately not. From what I have seen, you and Lord Hartley appear to be on friendly terms, so I expect you know some of what has been happening within the group and that Sir Callum is no longer a Noble Lord.”

  Mercy’s gaze dropped to the floor. Kendal had told her a great deal of what had happened. Callum’s getting drunk and missing performances had long been a major bone of contention between the members of the Noble Lords.

  She took the time to choose her next words carefully. If she revealed the full extent of her knowledge, it might raise more questions regarding the true nature of hers and Kendal’s relationship. She didn’t need Lavinia to start putting two and two together. “Yes, Lord Hartley explained some things to me. The news of Sir Callum and Lady Eliza marrying, of course, was lovely. She was always smiling when he was around.”

  Lavinia pursed her lips. “Yes, well let’s just hope that they are happy together. Not every union is welcomed by the respective families of those who marry. I married my first husband for love, and my family did not approve. My father, the Earl of Bray, cut me off. After I was widowed, Jonathan and I spent the best part of six years living in a rundown building in Craven Street.”

  Craven Street. Mercy knew that part of London. It wasn’t the most pleasant of locations, with many brothels operating in the area. While it was on what was considered to be the better side of the Thames, Craven Street was no better an address than her own. Still Lavinia had once been a member of the ton. By becoming Reid’s wife, she was reclaiming her rightful place in society. She could not say the same for herself. Mercy Wood was from the gutter and in the eyes of London’s elite, no doubt that was where she belonged.

  A girl such as herself had no right making claims against the future Duke of Banfield. “It must be a relief to be back in elegant society,” said Mercy.

  “It is certainly a change from the life I have been living. But it is you who I am concerned about. Mercy, I know you might not think that I care about you, but I am here if you feel the need to talk. If you ever want my help. You do have friends in this house aside from Kendal.” Lavinia reached out and took a hold of Mercy’s hand. “If there is anything, I can do for you in your delicate condition, please let me know. If you wish for me to speak to Kendal, I can.”

  Mercy considered Lavinia’s kind offer then shook her head. Lady Follett might well have lived her recent years in reduced circumstances, but her origins lay within London’s high society. She was one of them. “Thank you. There is no need for you to speak to Lord Hartley. He has nothing to do with my private life; he is just a client whose piano I tune
each day.”

  “Are you sure about this? I mean, about me not saying anything to Kendal. He is not a blackguard,” replied Lavinia.

  “Quite certain. Thank you, Lady Follett.”

  Mercy was relieved when Lavinia finally let the matter drop and left the room. She didn’t want to tell Kendal about the pregnancy, suspecting that there would be little he could do about it. It was not unheard of for the noble sons of England to meddle with housemaids and lowborn girls and get them into trouble. What was never heard, however, was the sound of wedding bells when those little accidents happened.

  Throughout their love affair, Kendal had always said he would take care of her, that he would do what he could for them to remain together, but he had never actually mentioned the word marriage. With his recent elevation to the Marquess of Hartley, it made sense that he would be careful to hedge his bets. This affair risked much for the both of them.

  She suspected that there was a good chance that if she told him she was pregnant; his family would force Kendal to cut off all communication with her. There was also the threat to her father’s business and livelihood if it became public knowledge that his daughter had conducted a secret affair with the son of a duke. She couldn’t risk leaving her family penniless. Months from now she would have an extra mouth to feed.

  Which left Mercy holding the exact same opinion as she had before leaving home this morning; she was pregnant with Kendal’s baby, and she would have to find her own solution to the problem of being an unwed mother.

  What she was going to tell her father didn’t bear thinking.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  There was a sense of hollowness inside Kendal. The Noble Lords were going to debut their new lineup tonight, and his sadness over the loss of Callum could not be alleviated by the inclusion of Marco Calvino.

  After climbing into the carriage as they left Follett House bound for the venue, Kendal took the seat opposite Marco, doing his best to muster up a smile for the newest member of the group. Callum might well be a cantankerous pain in the arse, but he was their pain in the arse—an integral part of both the group and the music. Marco could play the piccolo and try to replace Callum and his flute, but it simply wasn’t the same.

  The only positive thing to come out of the whole situation was the freshly minted friendship between Marco and Owen. They had gone from being sworn enemies to sharing jests and smiles.

  “So, your family holds a significant part of Venice?” asked Owen.

  Marco chuckled. “No, we own some major properties within the Venetian Province. After the republic ended, Venice was divided up. My father owns a lot of buildings in the city of Venice and then a large estate farther inland. It is all a bit of a mess and Venice is not the economic powerhouse it once was.”

  “I hope to travel there one day. My old music teacher came from Venice and I would love to visit him,” said Kendal. He settled back into the seat and stared out the window, imagining what it would be like to take Mercy with him to Italy. To show her the wonders of Rome and the magnificent artworks of Florence and Venice. To make love to her under the bright stars of the Adriatic Sea.

  This upcoming royal command tour could not have come at a worse time. How am I going to get things sorted with Mercy and my father while I am busy with all this?

  Winning his father over was going to be a huge task. The Duke of Banfield would likely have a fit when he found out that his new heir wanted to marry a piano tuner. That Kendal was determined to make Mercy his future duchess.

  One day I will get the chance to shine, but it won’t mean anything if I can’t have her as my wife.

  Reid was quiet and withdrawn this evening. Apart from Owen and Marco making small talk, there was little other merriment within the group. Kendal could understand the difficult situation the lead singer of their group now found himself in. Despite Reid’s best endeavors to keep them apart, Eliza had secretly married Callum. His new brother-in-law had been thrown out of the Noble Lords, and lifelong friendships shattered. While they put a good enough front up for the audience, welcoming Marco as their special guest, Kendal still grappled with a prickly sense of foreboding.

  Something was wrong with Mercy, and he was secretly worried that she was about to end their relationship. The news of him becoming the Marquess of Hartley had not gone down well if her tepid response was any indication. The only comfort he had been able to draw from their recent discussions was her declaration of love for him.

  But this week, Mercy had missed several days at Follett House and when she did reappear, it was without any explanation for her absence. They had spent time together as lovers, but even as he held her in his arms, Kendal sensed the distance growing between them.

  Thoughts of Mercy kept his mind distracted from almost everything. As he played tonight, his fingers danced over the keyboard, but his heart wasn’t in it. Even Mozart failed to stir his mind, and Mozart had always managed to get on his nerves. His playing was at best proficient—at worst, it bordered on indifference.

  What is wrong with me?

  Marco took center stage and sang. Owen accompanied him on the violin, giving Kendal a rare respite in the evening’s performance. He sat and took in the gathering, but it held little interest. Unlike the charity show, there was no chance that Mercy would be found sitting at the back of the room snacking on roasted chestnuts. He would pay someone a pound to suddenly make her materialize.

  His gaze drifted, then stopped. He leaned forward almost doing a double take. There seated in the crowd was Owen’s former fiancée, Lady Amelia Perry, and she was staring straight at Owen. Kendal looked to Owen; he was staring back at her. Even at this distance, Kendal could feel the longing between the two of them, blinking back a tear when Lady Amelia gifted Owen with a shy smile.

  “Oh, come on, you two, set all your differences aside. You know this is destined,” he whispered. Out the corner of his eye he caught sight of Reid. His gaze was also moving back and forth between Owen and Amy, a hopeful look written all over his face.

  When Owen grinned at Amy, it was all Kendal could do to remain in his seat. What he really wanted was to stop the performance and go and grab a hold of the two starstruck lovers. To beg them to take the risk in loving one another.

  Come on, Cupid. Just one more arrow in Owen’s arse and the job is done.

  Chapter Thirty

  It was a miracle that she had made it all the way to Windmill Street this morning without having to stop and find somewhere to cast up her breakfast, but Mercy still felt like death warmed up. Morning sickness was taking its toll on her.

  When Kendal was not waiting for her in the ballroom as she arrived, she sighed with relief. Mustering the energy to give him a simple smile after the hour-long trudge was beyond her capacity.

  Even the piano didn’t hold the same appeal as it once had. Taking a seat at it, Mercy didn’t bother to lift the keyboard cover. Instead she folded her arms over it, then lay her head down. She was asleep within seconds—exhaustion had won.

  When a hand shook her shoulder a little while later, she didn’t stir.

  “Mercy, wake up.”

  The sound of Kendal’s voice finally roused her from the dream she had been enjoying. She lifted her head, slowly blinking as he brushed the hair away from her eyes.

  His handsome, smiling face came into focus. “Good morning sleepy head.”

  She glanced around, taking in her surroundings, then sighed. Disappointment stirred in her at the realization that she wasn’t in bed and that Kendal wasn’t part of the dream. She was awake and he was real.

  Mercy suffered a kiss on the cheek but put a hand up and pushed him away when he sought her lips. She was just keeping her breakfast down—the thought of kissing him was not something she could even contemplate.

  “You look exhausted. Are you unwell?” he asked.

  Yet another person was asking her if she was ill. Lavinia’s words came back to haunt her. ‘People see these things. He . . . will see
this.’

  For a moment she was tempted to tell him the truth. That she was carrying his child. But the knowledge that Kendal’s life had changed, and he was now heir to a title, stopped her. Future dukes didn’t marry girls from South London, even if they were in the family way.

  On another day, when she was feeling more human, Mercy might have been able to deal with it, but this morning all she wanted to do was tinker with the piano, get paid, and then go home and crawl back into bed. She could barely face Kendal, let alone deal with the problem of the baby growing in her belly.

  “I am just tired. Late nights at the tavern,” she replied.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee, or tea? That might help,” he offered.

  Mercy slowly shook her head. She doubted she could keep a cup of tea down. Her stomach was best left to settle. “No thank you. If it’s alright with you, I will just have a look at the strings and then be on my way.”

  He sat for a moment and stared at her, all the while Mercy quietly prayed, he wouldn’t press her to remain.

  Kendal took a hold of her hand and raised it to his lips. “If that is what you wish, then don’t let me keep you. Promise me you will go home and get some sleep. I don’t like seeing you out of sorts like this; it worries me,” he said.

  He went to give her another kiss, and this time she pushed him away with more force. “Please, Kendal. Leave me be. Can’t you see I am bone weary, or does that not matter to you? As long as you get a grope or cop a feel up my skirt—that is all that you care about. If you like, I could go to sleep on the floor, and you could take what you want—just wake me when you are done.”

  She hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but he didn’t seem to understand how dreadful she felt. Of course, how could he.

  Kendal pulled away and got to his feet. He took some coins out of his pocket and placed them on the top of the piano. He leaned over and brushed a kiss on her forehead. “You know that is not how I feel about you, so I am going to take your words as having been spoken while you were overtired. Go home, Mercy, and get some sleep. When you are ready for us to talk, my love, let me know. I will be here and waiting.”