Sins of Omission

by Irina Shapiro

  Frances’s eyes drifted down the table toward Luke. He was conversing with an older woman who seemed to be hanging on his every word. Luke’s eyes met Frances’s for a moment, and he smiled just for her before turning his attention back to his dinner companion. Frances looked away, and tried to focus on what the heavily rouged and bewigged gentleman next to her was saying. He was asking her something about the plays of Moliere, but she’d never even heard of the famed French playwright until today, so just pretended to be interested when her mind was really on Luke and their earlier encounter.

  Frances was glad when the meal was finally at an end and barely suppressed anticipation rippled through the guests. The candles were blown out by the numerous lackeys, and all conversation ceased as the curtains parted to reveal the stage, the play starting at last. Frances tried to concentrate on what the actors were saying, but her French was still rudimentary, so she was quickly lost, failing to grasp the meaning of the double entendres. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the performance, which was eliciting gasps and bursts of laughter. The king seemed to be enraptured as he gazed at the stage, clapping like a child when he was pleased. Frances continued to look at the stage, but with no conversation to concentrate on, she allowed her mind to wander.

  **

  With Lord and Lady Everly both occupied, Frances had more freedom than she’d ever had in her life, which was as frightening as it was liberating. All these people were fawning over her, paying her compliments, and inviting her to walk and talk with them, join them for a game of cards, or simply for a gossip. She knew nothing of Court affairs, but tried to be as polite and charming as she could. Of course, Luke had been her savior. He was always on hand; ready to help her out when she was out of her depth. Frances was grateful for his timely interruptions and invitations to take a stroll through the gardens. Of course, Luke had his own agenda, as Frances soon found out. A stroll in the ornamental garden turned into a walk in the wooded park where privacy could be found if one were looking for some. Luke had drawn her off the path and into the trees where they could be completely alone for the first time since their acquaintance.

  “I’ve dreamed of being alone with you since the moment I first saw you,” Luke confided as he smiled into her eyes and moved closer to her, forcing Frances to take a step back. “I feel as nervous as a boy,” he said with a shy smile as he took her hand in his warm ones. “You’re cold.”

  “I’m nervous,” Frances replied, meaning it. She was terrified. She hadn’t been alone with any man besides her husband and Archie, and she wasn’t at all sure how to behave. She liked Luke, and she trusted him, but although Luke was still his charming self, something had changed in the past few weeks, something that put Frances on her guard. Perhaps she was being overly sensitive, but she’d been courted by Lionel, who had been a perfect gentleman while he wooed her, but turned into an abusive, cruel master as soon as they were wed. Frances learned the hard way that trust was not to be given lightly. Luke was gazing at Frances with undisguised adoration, but she drew back ever so slightly in a subconscious attempt at self-preservation.

  “Please, don’t be afraid, Frances. I only want to make you happy. If you wish to go back to the terrace, we can go right now,” Luke offered, but his eyes were pleading with her to stay, and she gave in to his boyish charm. If Lord Everly trusted Luke, then she had no cause for concern, Frances concluded as she allowed some of the tension to leave her body.

  “No, let’s wait a few minutes,” Frances said, gratified to see the joy in Luke’s eyes. “To be honest, I’m a little overwhelmed by all those people. I feel as if they are staring at me as if I were a curiosity of some sort.”

  “But you are. You are the most beautiful woman here, and they are green with envy,” Luke replied. Frances wasn’t sure if he were being honest with her or still playing the role of the simpering courtier. Flattery was the most valuable currency at Versailles, and the better flatterer you were, the more you could hope to gain in terms of favor and sexual conquests.

  “There are plenty of beautiful women out there, Luke, with Lady Everly being one of them,” Frances answered a trifle too defensively. She’d heard the comments about Neve, and felt an overwhelming desire to punch out anyone who said anything disparaging about her friend.

  “Neve is very beautiful, but she’s taken, and you are not. Are you?” he asked, suddenly serious.

  “You know I’m not. Why would you ask such a thing?”

  “I’ve heard some disturbing rumors,” Luke replied seriously. “People are saying that you are Hugo’s mistress.”

  Frances just gaped at him, amazed that he would give credence to such a blatant lie, especially since he was one of Lord Everly’s oldest friends. “How dare you?” she fumed, stomping her foot in anger. “Hugo Everly is the most honorable, brave, and caring man I’ve ever met, and he would never, you hear me, never do anything to dishonor Lady Everly. He genuinely loves her, something you clearly know nothing about. Take me back this instant,” Frances demanded, but for some reason she hadn’t moved. Perhaps she wanted to hear Luke beg for her forgiveness, or perhaps she was suddenly too mortified to return to a gathering where everyone believed her to be a cheap strumpet who would sleep with her guardian right under the nose of his wife, who was her closest friend in the world, and the woman who made her believe that it was possible to make one’s own choices for the future. Frances would sooner die than do anything to hurt either Neve or Hugo, but she supposed Luke had no way of knowing that. There was much she kept from him, so all he saw was the image of innocence she projected to the world, and especially to him.

  “I’m sorry, cherie,” Luke murmured, drawing her closer. “I was just overcome with jealousy. Forgive me. Please,” he breathed into her ear, making her forget her outrage. “You are so incredibly beautiful that any man would be mad with lust if he had to share a house with you, even Hugo, but I know that he is an honorable man and would never stoop so low. It’s just that I know so little about you. You are an enigma to be solved.”

  Luke’s gaze was full of expectation. Did he expect her to just blurt out some shameful secret? Frances wondered as she looked at him. She supposed he had a right to know something about her if they were to continue their courtship, but Lord Everly had warned her to reveal as little as possible. What happened to her in England was no one’s business, and although Hugo never said so outright, her past experiences diminished her value on the marriage market a great deal. But Luke was so kind to her, and so trusting. Perhaps he had a right to know a little more.

  “Luke, this is not common knowledge, but I was married before,” Frances murmured. She expected him to be shocked, but Luke just stood there with his head tilted to the side, watching her intently and silently.

  “I hope that doesn’t change the way you feel about me,” Frances said, thinking she should have just kept quiet.

  “Is your husband still living?” Luke asked carefully. His expression was inscrutable as he continued to watch Frances.

  “No, he’s dead, so I am free to marry again,” Frances replied, watching Luke for any sign of disappointment. He expected her to be a virgin, so her revelation could very well have just put an end to their courtship, but Luke didn’t appear shocked or disgusted. Instead, there was relief in his eyes which Frances didn’t quite understand. It’s as if he already knew, and wanted to hear it from her.

  “Nothing can change the way I feel about you, Frances,” Luke replied softly. “You have every reason to be apprehensive, but I swear to you that should you accept my suit, I will be the most attentive and devoted husband you could ever wish for. I would never lay a hand on you in anger, or treat you with disrespect. I have asked Hugo for your hand in marriage, but he doesn’t wish you to rush into anything. I will wait as long as it takes as long as I know that I have a chance. Do I dare hope?”

  Frances averted her eyes for a moment, suddenly unsure of the answer. To tell Luke that he had hope was as good as agreeing to marry him, but a
lthough she genuinely liked him, it was Archie’s face she saw before she fell asleep at night, and Archie’s voice she listened for when she woke up. But Archie didn’t want her; he’d made that clear enough. Nor would Lord Everly approve of Archie as a potential suitor. He wanted better for Frances; a man who would give her financial security and social standing. Lord Everly was the closest thing she had to a father, and he seemed to favor Luke. Did she dare to disappoint him?

  “Yes, Luke, you may hope, but I need some time,” Frances finally replied. She knew she was doing the right thing, but she still felt unsure. Her answer bought her time, which is what she needed most. She was only fifteen, for the love of God, she fumed to herself, not ready to sign her life away once again. For the first time in her life, she felt safe and cared for, a part of a loving family. Agreeing to marry anyone would tear her away from the people she loved, and she wasn’t ready to leave the Everlys, not yet. Hugo wasn’t putting any pressure on her to marry; in fact, he was advising her to wait, so there was no reason to accept Luke’s proposal just yet.

  She gazed up shyly at Luke, who seemed satisfied with her answer. The sun filtered through the trees and dappled his face with light, making it almost glow with happiness. Luke bent down and brushed his lips against her ear, then moved down to her neck. His lips were feather-light against her skin, tasting and kissing her at the same time. He held her loosely, so she wouldn’t feel threatened, and continued his sensual exploration. Frances gasped as Luke kissed her breast, running his tongue along the top of her stiffened bodice. Frances shivered with pleasure, instinctively arching her back to lift her breasts higher.

  Luke kissed the other breast and lifted his face to kiss her in earnest. The kiss was tender, almost worshipful, which made Frances lean into him and wrap her arms around his neck for a deeper kiss. Luke didn’t disappoint. He crushed her against him and slid his tongue into her mouth, exploring her with a passion that was no longer held in check. With anyone else, Frances might have been scared, but she trusted Luke, so she gave herself up to the moment, savoring the kiss and mentally comparing it to Archie’s.

  The two men were different physically and emotionally, but she recognized the same intensity in Luke as she had felt in Archie. It was a barely suppressed longing, held in check only by the rules of propriety and the constraints of time. Luke suddenly broke the kiss and bent down, sliding his hand beneath her voluminous skirts. Frances stiffened with shock as his fingers caressed the bare flesh above her beribboned stockings and then slid further up to the cleft between her legs. She wanted to push him away, to chastise him for taking such liberties, but her knees buckled as Luke expertly caressed her, and she rested her forehead on his shoulder, moaning with unexpected pleasure. No one had ever touched her like this, and although she knew it was wrong, she liked it, and wanted more.

  “Luke, please,” she whispered, unsure of what exactly she was asking for.

  “Please more or please stop?”

  Frances could see the seductive smile as his fingers slipped inside, nearly making her swoon with the intensity of the feelings he was evoking.

  “Please stop,” she breathed. “I can’t take it.”

  “Has no one ever touched you like this, cherie?” Luke was watching her now, his eyes probing her soul, her memories.

  “No, no one.”

  “Not even your husband?” he suddenly asked.

  Frances pushed him away as she felt a tightening in her chest. She didn’t want to think of Lionel or remember anything he’d done to her, but her face must have betrayed her because Luke suddenly looked contrite, realizing he’d gone too far.

  “I’m sorry,” he pleaded as he tried to pull her back into his embrace, but Frances just pushed him away, harder this time. Angry tears ran down her cheeks as she turned to flee.

  Frances ran toward the path, but Luke caught her before she had a chance to reach it. “Frances, please, I’m sorry. Why are you so upset?”

  “My husband hurt me every day of our marriage. He nearly beat me to death. I wouldn’t be here if Lord Everly hadn’t intervened, so please, don’t ever ask about him again. He’s dead, and I’m glad. I thank God every single day that he can no longer get to me and claim me for his own. Now, let me go.”

  Luke didn’t let her go, but kissed her hard, pulling her against him until she felt his arousal through the many layers of fabric between them. “I will never hurt you,” he whispered. “Never.”

  Frances ignored her instinct to run away and surrendered to Luke’s kiss. She needed to feel loved and wanted, and Luke instinctively felt her vulnerability and knew it was the chink in her armor. He didn’t slide his hand under her skirts this time for fear of upsetting her; just kissed her and held her until she began to relax and allowed her anger to dissolve.

  “Frances, let me come to you tonight. It’s our only chance to be alone together before you go back to Paris. Let me show you how much I love you.”

  “I don’t know,” Frances replied stubbornly. “What if Lord Everly finds out?”

  “He won’t. It will be our little secret. I promise you won’t be sorry. Don’t you want to know what it feels like to be loved by someone who worships you? Say yes, sweetheart,” he pressed.

  “All right. Yes,” Frances whispered, sealing her fate.

  Chapter 36

  Frances had been allocated a small bedroom at the back of a dim corridor. It was sparsely furnished, and not much bigger than a garderobe. She’d gotten out of bed several times over the past hour, first unlocking her door, then locking it, then unlocking it again in anticipation of her rendezvous with Luke. She almost wished that Lord and Lady Everly were just down the hall which would make Luke’s visit impossible, but Hugo and Neve were on the other side of the building. Their chamber was dominated by a large four-poster with hangings of golden-yellow silk elaborately embroidered with flowers and birds, and overlooking the gardens. They would have no inkling of Frances’s transgressions, unless some busybody made it their business to tell them.

  Sabine was quartered on the upper floor with the rest of the servants, forced to share a room with three other lady’s maids who snubbed her at every opportunity. They were employed by French nobility, not some English upstart and his dowdy wife. Despite the frosty reception, Sabine wasn’t upset in the least, since the prestige of having been to Versailles would give her much-desired cache and elevate her standing among the other servants at the Everly residence. It would also help her secure a better position once the Everlys no longer had need of her. She wasn’t around to offer Frances guidance and moral support, but she would wholeheartedly approve of Frances’s assignation if she were.

  Frances’s hands shook with nerves as she heard stealthy footsteps in the corridor and watched in trepidation as the handle slowly turned. She wasn’t afraid for her reputation, although she would hate to cause Lord and Lady Everly any distress; what she feared most was the actual lovemaking. She knew Luke was nothing like Lionel and would never intentionally cause her pain, but would she be able to respond to him? Frances had managed to endure a year of marriage with a man who cared nothing for her well-being or happiness, but was she ready to open up to someone who did? The thought of being touched intimately frightened her despite enjoying Luke’s caresses in the park earlier. What if she froze? What if she were unable to please him? What if all she felt was revulsion? She so desperately wanted to love and be loved, and to enjoy that which brought everyone so much pleasure, but was it possible that her experiences with Lionel broke something within her, and made her incapable of ever giving herself to someone without fear?

  Frances felt a little less panicked when she saw Luke’s sheepish smile as he quietly entered the room. Gone were the wig and the elaborate suit of clothes which Luke had been wearing earlier. Luke’s face was scrubbed clean of powder, and his natural hair was thick and wavy with a stubborn forelock that kept falling into his eyes. He was wearing breeches and a shirt that was open at the throat to reveal a mat of
curly hair. His stockinged feet made no sound on the wooden floor as he slipped into the room and gave Frances a conspiratory smile as he set down his candle.

  Frances held her breath as Luke turned the key in the lock before slowly approaching the bed. Now that he was here, she was glad that she had worn her prettiest nightdress and had brushed out her hair and arranged it artfully around her shoulders. Some women wore rouge on their cheeks and lips, but Frances didn’t need any; her lips and cheeks were rosy enough, especially now since she was blushing. Sabine said that her former mistress even put rouge on her nipples before her lover arrived, but Frances thought that was just silly. She suddenly remembered how Lionel forced her to use belladonna drops in her eyes to make them look wide and guileless, but pushed the memory away, annoyed with herself for allowing Lionel to violate even this private moment. It would take her a long time to forget him, but she would be damned if she allowed him to ruin every good thing in her life.

  “May I join you?” Luke asked as he climbed onto the bed next to Frances. She just nodded, momentarily unable to speak. Lord Everly would be very displeased if he ever found out that she’d taken a man to her bed, but she was a grown woman; a woman who’d been married and had borne a child, Frances told herself defiantly. She had a right to shape her own destiny, and she wanted to know what it was like to have a lover; one who actually wanted to make love to her, not brutalize her. Luke claimed to love her and had offered marriage, so it wasn’t wrong.