by Nina Mason
As the carriage rolled along, he thought back to their conversation about Fanny Hill. The book wasn’t banned only because it was pornographic. The greater objection was that it celebrated female sexual pleasure. Unmarried women were not supposed to think about sex—let alone enjoy it with numerous men. And, even more scandalous, Fanny Hill ended up happily married after all her erotic escapades.
In Great Britain, it was unthinkable that a fallen woman should be rewarded for her licentious ways with a good marriage and legitimate children.
Do you believe women feel the same passions as men?
Of course they did. And anyone who thought otherwise—or believed it ought to be otherwise—should be castrated.
Under a surge of affection and gratitude, he kissed the top of her head. “Are you terribly sore, my darling?”
“Not terribly, no. But a little.”
“Shall I bring a cushion along tomorrow for you to sit upon? The roads are rough, as I said before, and all that bouncing might prove disagreeable.”
She looked up at him and tenderly stroked his cheek. “For so long, I felt as though my heart was Pandora’s Box, and that all my feelings—all my good and tender feelings—were locked inside, unable to get out. Then, you came along with the only key in all of existence that fit the lock. And now, all those happy feelings are twinkling inside me like stars.”
Deeply moved as well as astonished how closely her description expressed his own feelings, he captured her upraised mouth with his own. The kiss—a heartfelt exchange of deep and tender emotion—lasted until the carriage rolled to a stop outside Greystone Hall.
Before disembarking, Theo waited a few moments for his rekindled lusts to cool down. After he and Louisa were wed, he wanted to spend whole days lounging in bed with her, talking, kissing, and making love. Being with her made him feel more whole in both body and spirit than ever before. She filled the emptiness that had been there since he was a boy—an inner void so familiar to him he rarely noticed it anymore.
Now presentable, he climbed out of the carriage and turned back to help Louisa down the retractable steps. Offering his arm, he escorted her across the porch and through the front door.
In the entry hall, he found Winnie waiting. Her obvious agitation alarmed him. Deep in his gut, he had the disquieting feeling something was wrong—or would go wrong before he and Louisa could get safely away. If he could, he would set off for Scotland this very minute and marry her as soon as they arrived. For not until they were irrevocably bound would his anxieties leave him.
“Is anything amiss?” he asked his sister.
“No,” she said, still looking strange, “I am merely eager to hear how the picnic went.”
“All went well,” he told her, relieved she had no bad news to relay.
“I can see that by the state of Louisa’s hair,” she said, smiling slyly. “It looks to me as though she has been rolling about in the shrubbery.”
Fury flared in Theo’s breast. Though Winnie was only teasing, her innuendo tainted Louisa’s honor as well as his. “For your information, sister dear,” he retorted snidely, “there was a strong wind.”
“It must have been a very strong wind indeed, brother dear,” she returned with a snigger, “to have blown your waistcoat inside out.”
A mixture of embarrassment and rage heated Theo’s face. Normally, he did not mind his sister’s teasing, but this time, she had gone too far. “Curb your tongue, girl, and take Miss Bennet upstairs to your maid before your impertinent remarks lose you her friendship and my favor.”
Winnie, looking mortified, brought a hand to her mouth. “Oh, Theo. I’m so sorry. I did not mean to give offense.” Turning quickly to Louisa, she said with almost painful remorse, “Forgive me, Miss Bennet, I-I truly meant no insult. I am just so very fond of you—and in such a habit of teasing my brother—that I thought…well, what I mean to say is…is, well, I think of you almost as my sister…not only because my brother cares for you, but because of the friendship between us, and, and…well, you see, I thought, therefore, it might be all right to tease you the same way I do him.”
Louisa, smiling serenely, stepped up to Winnie and set a gloved hand upon her forearm. “Far from affronted, I am honored that you feel comfortable enough with me to include me in your jests. Furthermore, I think of you not only as my friend, I hope to call you my…well, perhaps I should leave it for your brother to tell.” She turned her gaze upon Theo. “You do plan to tell your sister, do you not?”
Her gracious forbearance caused Theo’s heart to swell with pride. As the two women he loved most in the world started toward the stairs arm-in-arm, he called after his sister. “And Winnie, while your maid sees to Miss Bennet, come back down, for I wish to speak to you regarding a matter of great import.”
“Of course.”
When the ladies had disappeared from sight, Theo informed Mr. Murphy he would be leaving early in the morning for an extended holiday. He thought it best to keep the specifics close to the vest in case someone should come looking for Louisa. While he trusted the butler implicitly, he also knew no man could sell secrets he did not possess, even for the price of a year’s wages.
As soon as Murphy left the room, Winnie came in. “Close the door,” he told her, “and have a seat.”
Her eyes danced with excitement as she sat on the sofa near his chair. To increase her torment, he said nothing for several minutes—repayment for her teasing in the entry hall.
When she reached the end of her patience, she cried, “Tell me this instant, you wicked creature, or I shall run mad!”
Leaning closer to her, he lowered his voice. “I will only tell you if you promise not to breathe a word to another living soul.”
She rolled her eyes. “Gracious me, how overdramatic you are being.”
“Will you promise to keep quiet or not?”
“Of course,” she said impatiently. “Now out with it.”
“Louisa and I are going to Scotland tomorrow to be married.”
Winnie leapt out of her seat and bounced on her toes while clapping her hands. “Oh, Theo, I was so hoping that was what you would tell me.”
He could not help but smile at her display, which told him she was still a girl in many ways. “I gather you approve?”
“You know I do,” she exclaimed. “I have been praying the two of you would wed since I saw the two of you speaking at our first ball here in Much Wenlock. And now she will be my sister. My real and true sister! I could not be happier, though I daresay the Cuthbertsons will not be pleased when the news gets out.”
Concern stabbed Theo in the gut. “The Cuthbertsons? What do they have to do with it?”
“Oh, Theo,” his sister said, looking mildly perturbed, “you must know Mrs. Cuthbertson has her eye on you for her eldest daughter.”
“I suspected as much,” he said. “And that is why I tried to discourage her once again at the assembly last night.”
“Well, you obviously failed to make the desired impression.”
Annoyance and alarm were tying double-knots in his intestines. “Confound it, Winnie! Stop beating about the bush and tell me outright what any of this has to do with my forthcoming elopement.”
Her expression grew serious. “They paid us a call this afternoon…while you were out with Miss Bennet.”
Alarm jangled behind Theo’s breastbone. What trouble might befall him as a consequence of their visit? Just one possibility came to mind—but it was only a danger if Winnie had been indiscreet. “Where did you tell them I was?”
Her expression changed in a blink from concerned to perturbed. “Do give me some credit, brother. Surely, you cannot believe me imprudent enough to give you away. I told them you went to Shrewsbury, to be fitted for a new pair of shoes, you nit.” She shook her head and lowered her gaze. “It wounds me deeply to know how little faith you have in me.”
Guilt squeezed his chest. He had misjudged his sister and now regretted his error. “Forgive me, Winni
e. I promise you, I have every faith in your discretion…and am now ashamed to have given a different impression.” He swallowed and moistened his lips. “Will you accept my apology and let bygones be bygones?”
“Of course.” She gave him a weak smile. “For I would not have you go off to Scotland with a rupture between us, especially over something so petty.”
“That is very good of you,” he said, relieved. “Now, tell me everything that happened while the Cuthbertsons were here. Leave out no detail, however trivial it might seem.”
“Well, let me see…,” she began, thoughtfully stroking her chin. “As I recall, Mrs. Cuthbertson asked a lot of questions about you, which I thought rather nosy, but—”
A knock on the door cut her off. When Louisa came in, Winnie ran to her, squealing with excitement. “Oh! Miss Bennet. How happy I am for the both of you—and myself as well, for now I shall have the sister I have always wanted…and not just any sister, but my very best friend in the world!”
The sight of his future bride would have filled him with joy had he not been so worried about the Cuthbertsons. Though his encounters with those gold-diggers had been few and brief, he’d nevertheless gotten the strong sense they were the spiteful sort. If they had somehow figured out that he and Louisa were courting in secret, they could ruin everything.
And yet, how could they know?
Louisa, finally free of Winnie’s effusions, came into the room looking considerably more put-together than when she went upstairs. As he gazed upon her admiringly, all his fears came flooding back.
“Perhaps, to be safe, you should spend the night here,” he suggested, struggling to his feet. “You could send a note making some excuse…and also ask that they send over a change of clothes.”
“Captain,” she said with a disapproving eye, “such a note, I daresay, would have no different effect to one communicating our plans to run away together.”
He dragged a hand down his face. “Yes, yes. You are right, of course. It is just that…well, I have this terrible fear that, once you walk out that door, I might never see you again.”
She came to him, set her hand on his arm, and looked into his eyes. “I have the same worry, but we must not let fear get the better of us. I have considered it from every angle, and there is no way anyone could know our secret.”
He tried to convince himself she was right. It was only fear talking, and fear often lied through its teeth. He took her hand and pressed his lips to the back of her glove. He would have given her a proper kiss good-bye had Winnie not been in the room.
“Try to get some sleep, my love, and I shall collect you tomorrow, as agreed.”
She set her hands on his shoulders, rose up on her toes, and kissed his cheek. Then, very softly, she said near his ear, “I love you, and cannot wait to be your wife.”
“Your sentiments echo my own,” he whispered.
As he escorted her out, he fought the compulsion to stop her from going. The only way to be safe, after all, was to go tonight. And that would mean traveling without clothes, food, or any readying of the horses and carriage—a considerable inconvenience to appease something as insubstantial as a bad feeling.
* * * *
The coachman cracked the whip, driving the horses harder. Louisa shivered. Her heart seemed to gallop along with the team. Faster and faster they ran until the speed and her escalating trepidation made her sick to her stomach.
Papa could not know. Papa could not know. There is no possible way Papa could know.
Though she repeated these reassurances over and over, they did naught to thaw the block of ice in her belly. She forced herself to think joyful thoughts. Making love with Theo in the meadow under the warming sun…exchanging their vows while the bagpipes skirled softly in the background…spending the rest of her life married to a man she loved more than she ever thought possible.
In a few hours, all her dreams would come true—unless her father had somehow learned they had been courting in secret. But how could he have? Only Georgie and Winnie knew, and surely neither of them had betrayed their dearest siblings.
Papa could not know. There was no way he could know. It was simply impossible.
So why was she so on edge? Her mind turned at once to Augusta Cuthbertson and her mother. Outside the parlor door, she’d overheard Theo and her sister discussing their visit. Could Winne have let something slip unintentionally? No, surely not. She had promised her brother she had exercised the height of discretion.
The horses were still running hard. Louisa’s heartbeat now outpaced them. Lord, how she longed to scream at the driver to turn back. What a fool she had been to decline Theo’s offer to stay the night. Now, she would have to face her father. And, if he did suspect something, she would never be able to hide her guilt.
As the landau drew to a halt outside Craven Castle, Louisa struggled to contain her fears. Unless the Cuthbertsons had put the pieces together—which seemed unlikely—there was no way Papa could know. For Georgie, she was certain, would never reveal her secret, even if Papa tried to beat it out of her.
Or would she crack under the lash?
No, she would not. She could not, because Papa suspected nothing.
Exiting the carriage, Louisa peered at Craven Castle with mounting foreboding. In her fear-addled brain, the candlelit windows became lambent yellow eyes and the front door, a mouth waiting to devour her. Swallowing hard, she bid Winnie a reluctant farewell, and hurried toward her fate.
In the foyer, she removed her bonnet and gloves while taking the house’s emotional temperature. Though all seemed calm and quiet, she remained on guard as she crept toward the stairs. Dinner was always served at six o’clock sharp. That gave her only fifteen minutes to dress.
As she tip-toed past the morning room, the butler came out. “Ah, Miss Louisa. I thought it was you. Your father has been waiting anxiously upon your return. You will find him in the library.”
Dread hooked her stomach and pulled it toward her chest. On shaky legs, she made her way to the library. The door was ajar—not a good sign. She knocked softly. Her heart was pounding so hard she feared it might break her breastbone.
“Louisa, is that you?”
“Yes, Papa.” She pushed the words past the lump in her throat. “Carlyle said you wished to speak with me.”
“You have been correctly informed,” he said with a sternness that stripped her last hope away, “and have my permission to enter.”
Adopting an expression of obsequiousness, she entered the room as if the floor was strewn with broken glass. Her father was at his desk, reading something through his monocle. He looked up as she approached, doing her best to hide her guilt.
He set down his eyeglass and looked at her across the tidy desktop. “How was your visit to Greystone?”
“Very pleasant.” Her tongue felt thick and her throat tight.
“Pray, how did you find your friend, Miss Raynalds?”
“Perfectly well.” She licked her lips. “I will let her know you asked after her the next time I see her.”
Dropping his chin, he looked up at her from under his heavy brows. “And how, pray, is her brother? Did you see much of him during your visit?”
Louisa quaked inside. These sorts of questions were out of character for her father. He never took an interest in anything she did, especially her social calls. This, therefore, was a trap—and one she had little hope of escaping.
“Only at first,” she said, choosing her words with great care, “for he went out shortly after I arrived.”
Papa put on his monocle and stared at her like a monster with one giant eye. “I want the truth, Louisa. Is her brother paying court to you without my consent?”
The noose tightened around her neck. Her only salvation was to lie convincingly. “How did you come up with such an outlandish idea? For, I promise you, Captain Raynalds is no more to me than the brother of my new friend.”
The denial, though necessary, made her feel as betraying
as Judas Iscariot.
“Is that so?” He stood, came around the desk, and clasped his hands behind his back. “Well, I have heard a different tale—and one I am more inclined to believe. From Mrs. Cuthbertson, who paid a call upon me earlier today.”
Louisa wanted to strangle Mrs. Cuthbertson with her bare hands. She now knew where her daughter got her petty and jealous nature.
“When the lady asked after you,” Papa continued, “I told her you were spending the day with Miss Raynalds at Greystone Hall. So, you can well imagine my surprise when she informed me you were not there…nor was the Captain. She had called there before coming here, you see, and found Miss Raynalds quite alone. Her brother, the girl informed her guest, had gone to Shrewsbury for new shoes. But that cannot be true, now can it?—as no cobblers there are open on Sundays.” He leaned over the desk as he added, “That brings us to the question of your whereabouts. I want the truth, Louisa. Were you out with Captain Raynalds unchaperoned?”
Louisa searched her rattled mind for a way to explain her absence. Where could she have been when Mrs. Cuthbertson called? Out in the garden picking flowers? In the stable admiring the horses? Above stairs having a lie-down? Even were he not already convinced of her guilt, Papa would find none of these excuses plausible. For what guest would go off to explore on her own while her hostess remained in the house?
God help her. She was trapped like a rabbit in a snare and could come up with no fiction to support her innocence. “Papa, please try to understand,” she cried, breaking down. “I love him—as he loves me. The Captain is a good man. Good and honorable…which you would see if you would only set aside your prejudices.”
Her father only harrumphed in response. “If you believe him honorable, it is you who is mistaken in his character. For no respectable man would court a young lady behind her father’s back…or take her on outings without a chaperone…or put her reputation at risk so recklessly. No, Louisa, his actions only confirm my prejudices, as you call them. He may have pulled the wool over your eyes with his seductions, but I can plainly see he is unworthy of you in every possible way.”