Seduction In Silk: A Novel of the Malloren World (Malloran)

by Jo Beverley

  “Indeed. Rothgar had us all trained to the highest standard. He said he wouldn’t lose us to a bullying swordsman.”

  “A wise decision. If my sister’s husband had been trained that way, he wouldn’t have been murdered in a duel.”

  “I heard the tale. A man paid to call him out and kill him. How is the lady now?”

  “In a new marriage, which is apparently happy, despite immuring her in muddy Devon.”

  “It can’t always be muddy!” Cyn said with a laugh.

  “My mother’s account of visiting there is vivid. Georgia was such a Town butterfly.”

  “You worry about her. It’s the way with families. I worry about my twin, even though she seems happy. And she worries about me.”

  “I’d forgotten you’re a twin. I’d ask advice, but male and female twins must be different to two boys, and identical at that.”

  “When we were young we didn’t allow the differences to rule us, but in time we were each pushed onto a different path. I didn’t mind, but Elf did, a lady’s path being much less adventurous. It was hard for her when I joined the army.”

  “Envy or worry?” Perry asked.

  “Both, but mostly the latter. She’d have had me in a drawing room stitching samplers.”

  “It’s not unreasonable to worry about a soldier.”

  “That’s what she says. I tell her it comes down to luck, but that never seems to reassure her.”

  “She wishes to control destiny, as do I.”

  “A fool’s game,” Cyn said. “Life’s too chancy.”

  “I refuse to believe that.”

  “Then why are you married?”

  “A point, damn you, but the marriage was caused by Cousin Giles’s malice, not chance.”

  “Unless the curse was behind it.”

  “I don’t believe in curses,” Perry said, but he knew that deep inside that curse still worried him. He wished there was a way to prove it to be nonsense.

  “One’s shaped your life, even so. And your wife’s life, with less blame on her side.”

  “I carry no blame for Giles Perriam’s sins.”

  “It came through your blood.”

  “I’ll be damned if I accept blame for everything a Perriam’s done through the ages. Do you accept every Malloren sin?”

  “No, but I don’t believe we can control life. We can only do the best with what comes and pray for good fortune when the balls whistle around our heads.”

  They had reached the fencing academy and paused by the steps.

  “Shall we fight on the point?” Perry said. “Can life be steered aright with enough sense and application, or are we feathers on the wind of fate?”

  “Agreed,” Cyn said, and they went in.

  When a long hour of fencing resulted in a draw, Perry found that rather ominous.

  Chapter 29

  Claris tried to put the Fox out of her mind but failed. Her marriage might be a practical one, but Perry was her husband and she burned with outrage.

  She wasn’t in the mood for tedious linens, so she suggested to Ellie that they explore some wooden chests in the attics. “Even a glimpse the other day showed much grander discards.”

  “A good idea,” Ellie said. “We might find pieces that could be used to trim our clothing.”

  “I thought we were above mending and patching.”

  “Trimming’s different, dearie. If they were as careless about fine discards, there could be some lovely silks, velvets, and lace.”

  There were, but mostly well used and past repair.

  All the same, ripping a silken bodice that had decayed beneath the arms felt more satisfying than ripping a sheet.

  Ellie chuckled. “Now, who would you like that to be? Can I guess?” She was sitting on a chair by the chest, inspecting a long embroidered flounce.

  “Mistress Foxell-Smith.”

  “And who’s she to raise your temper?”

  “Athena thinks she’s my husband’s mistress.” Claris told the story. “Perhaps she did have hopes that he’d marry her.”

  “Very likely.” Ellie put the flounce on their good pile. “He’s only a younger son, but the younger son of an earl. Not to be sniffed at.”

  “She can hope no longer. He’s married—to me.”

  “That might make her your enemy, dearie. So be careful.”

  “Our paths won’t cross again. She won’t return here to face Athena.” Claris considered the ripped bodice. “The front and back are still strong, and it’s lovely silk. It could be used for a purse, shoes. . . .”

  Ellie took it. “Not for you, dearie. Servants’ pile.”

  “Will they really have use of silk?”

  “Of course they will. A pretty purse, a pair of shoes.”

  Claris shook her head. “I’m stupid about so many things.”

  “No, you’re not. You just haven’t experienced much yet.”

  “Certainly not the right things.”

  Ellie pulled out a long piece of lace. “The Foxy woman will probably hurry back to Town.”

  “For fear of Athena?”

  “Perhaps.”

  Or to rush back to Perry. Claris tugged at a blue velvet jacket, but it didn’t give her the satisfaction of parting. “Still sturdy, but sadly faded in places.”

  “One of the servants will make a treasure out of it.”

  Claris put it on that pile. “Perhaps I should give them the entire chest. As you say, I don’t need patched and mended finery.”

  “Worth checking,” Ellie said. “Look at this.” She spread a gown of lilac brocade over a nearby table, where the weave caught the sunlight. “There’s nothing wrong with it except where it’s singed on the hem here. Some woman was lucky not to be burned.”

  “Indeed.” Claris went over to touch the skirt. “It is lovely.”

  “And not so old as to be out of style. The color would suit you.”

  “But where would I wear it?”

  “You spoke of going to Town with the twins.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  Claris fingered the skirt, loving the feel of the silk, which always connected in her mind with her silk robe, how it had slithered to the floor, and what had followed. . . .

  “We won’t be attending balls.”

  “You never know. Best to be prepared.”

  Claris didn’t want to disappoint Perry.

  “With luck it’s a bit long,” Ellie said. “It’ll be easy to cut off the burn.”

  Attending a ball, dressed in this gorgeous lilac gown.

  “You should at least try it on,” Ellie said. “Even if it’s the right length, we can find some other way to conceal the damage. Careless to have discarded it over such a blemish.”

  “Perhaps the memory frightened the owner,” Claris said.

  “More likely it belonged to the second wife. According to all I hear, she was one to discard anything without a thought and buy new. Of course, she was failing to conceive. Turns some women odd, that does, and turns many to buying, buying, buying, as if to fill the hole.”

  “I hope I don’t become that way, if . . .”

  “Still not sure, dearie?”

  There’d been no way to conceal the consummation from Alice, and so no way to hide the fact from Athena and Ellie. Athena hadn’t commented, but Ellie was excited at the possibility of a baby.

  “My courses are a little late,” Claris confessed.

  “Well, then,” Ellie said with a beaming smile. “You’d best wear that lilac whilst you can.” She returned to the chest and pulled out a brown bodice. She tossed it on the servants’ pile. “It’ll be grand to have a baby here.”

  “Athena won’t think so.”

  “It’s a big enough place to keep them apart.”

  Claris inspected a long gauze shawl, seeing a lot of pulled threads. “Does she truly dislike children?”

  “Not to want to murder them, but she’s not drawn to babies like most women are.”

  “Did you never want
children?” Claris asked.

  “I suppose most women do now and then, dearie, but not without a husband if they have sense. I never met a man who tempted me from Thenie and her exciting ways. Let me see that.”

  Claris passed over the shawl, recognizing an opening to a subject she wanted to discuss. “She doesn’t seem content here.”

  “She’s not one for country living any more than your husband is. This could be mended, but it wasn’t fine stuff when new.”

  “Then put it for the servants.”

  “But there’s not much money left.”

  It took a moment for Claris to see the context. Athena. Money.

  “What happened?” she asked. “Didn’t she receive an allowance when she separated?”

  “Heavens no. That would have meant a connection, and neither of them would have tolerated that. She won a lump sum and he had to sell land to pay it. She managed it well enough, but in her prime she never thought she’d live to an old age.”

  Claris tugged at a woolen caraco and it held, but moths had worked on it in places. It could be mended. . . . But that was her old ways speaking. She put it in the pile for the servants and picked up a pair of silk stockings, knotted together. As she untied them she pondered her grandmother’s finances. Had she come to their rescue not because she cared but because her money was running out?

  Did no one want her without a selfish motive?

  That was pitiful thinking. Both Athena and Perry had benefited her, no matter what their motives.

  She put her hand into one of the delicate stockings, gently stretching it so she could search for flaws. It was embroidered up the side.

  “Ivy,” she said with a laugh. “I wonder if that had some meaning. A thread’s given here and caused a run, but I gather stockings can be mended.”

  “So well that no one would ever know. No servant would have a use for those.”

  “Though a servant could wish she had.”

  “Not wise to wish too high, dearie. Reach for what’s in reach. Ask your maid if she can mend those. If not, take them to London when you go. There are people there who make it their trade.”

  Claris folded the stockings carefully. “I’m of a mind to go to London soon.”

  “That’d be nice.”

  Claris took out a petticoat. “My husband said the boys should visit London before they go to school.”

  “Are they off to school soon, then?” Ellie asked, putting a stomacher on the good pile.

  “No, but we can still go to London.”

  “You want to guard the chicken house from the Fox,” said Ellie. “You’re his wife, dearie, not her.”

  “But . . .” Claris huffed out a breath. “I know I have no right to object, but I can’t bear the thought of him and her.”

  Ellie just gave her a look.

  “I know,” Claris sighed. “It’s a practical marriage and we’ll mostly be living apart, so of course he’ll want other women.”

  “Some men can do without.”

  “I doubt he’s one, and why should he? He married me to oblige his family.”

  “Some men take their vows seriously, no matter how made.”

  “But why should he?” Claris repeated. “I don’t mind,” she added, knowing it was a lie and that Ellie would know it too. “I want to see his world. I want to see him in his world.”

  So I’ll understand how far apart we are and always will be.

  So I can accept that he’ll never spend more time here than he must.

  So I can make my life good here without him.

  “In that case,” Ellie said, standing up with a bit of a wince, “we’d best see to the lilac gown. We can improve your wardrobe, as well. There are a couple of maids here who are competent with a needle, and a seamstress in the village who’s reputed to have some skill. We already have the makings in this pile of rescues.”

  Ellie gathered up the pile, but Claris carried the lilac silk downstairs. It was a more delicate silk than her wedding gown and it rustled and slithered in her arms. Once in her room she hurried to try it on.

  “You’ll need hoops beneath that,” Ellie said. “Athena has some she hardly ever uses.”

  The color did suit her, and it fit perfectly except for being too long. Even when Ellie returned with the hoops and Claris put them on, spreading the skirt wide, three inches trailed on the ground. When that was cut off, the blemish would be gone.

  Alice hurried in. “You should have called for me, ma’am.”

  “Miss Gable assisted, but this gown must be shortened and soon, for I intend to take my brothers to London. I hope you’ll accompany me.”

  The maid’s eyes sparkled. “Yes, ma’am!”

  Claris turned back to the mirror, loving the way the skirt swayed with the hoops and the soft whisper of the silk.

  She could be a fine lady in this gown.

  Perhaps she could even show her husband that she might belong in his world.

  * * *

  Perry read his wife’s letter with a grimace. He’d suggested that her brothers visit Town and would have made arrangements in good time. But not yet.

  Not now, when he was entangled in politics and diplomacy and ready to shoot someone, many someones, to cut through it all. Ryder and Pierrepoint were clearly guilty, but the link to Guerchy eluded them. The men were being followed at all times, and he and Cyn sometimes took part.

  They’d discovered nothing and feared Guerchy had discovered their suspicions. He might have stopped the espionage, or turned to some other, as yet undetected tools. With the rumblings of war growing louder, that was intolerable.

  There were frequent meetings with Rothgar, often attended by the secretaries of state, the Duke of Grafton and Mr. Conway; the first lord of the Admiralty, Lord Hawke; and the new commander in chief of the army, Lord Granby.

  Too many cooks, came to Perry’s mind.

  As he’d always known, he had no time for a wife.

  She was coming, however. She wasn’t requesting permission but announcing the date. He could exert his authority and command her to stay at Perriam Manor, but that went against his nature and their agreement. If he tried, she might well travel to Town anyway, pistol in hand.

  He smiled at the image, which made him accept that he’d be happy to see her again. He looked forward to showing her the many aspects of London and hearing her opinions. She’d probably disapprove of much, but he hoped she’d enjoy the better parts.

  He looked forward to sharing a bed with her again, but would they? She didn’t say whether she was with child or not. It had been nearly four weeks, so she might know. If she was . . . ? She’d been enthusiastic and passionate, so surely she’d want to enjoy more bed play.

  He refolded the letter, stroking the folds that she had made. His wife’s arrival would be a damned nuisance, but it could also be pure delight.

  * * *

  As the departure for London drew near, Claris became more and more sure she was with child. Her courses were now nearly three weeks overdue.

  Should she write to Perry with the news or wait to tell him upon her arrival? Perhaps she should write. If she told him in person, he might not show the pleasure she wanted to see. By letter, he’d say all that was appropriate.

  But . . . perhaps she needn’t tell him at all.

  Raw desire played a part in her urgent need to go to Town. If she was pregnant, he might feel no need to join her in bed.

  Could she keep it secret?

  Athena and Ellie were coming to London, and they might mention it.

  Athena was seething with plans, and letters flew in and out daily. She frequently mentioned Lady This and Mistress That, and a woman known only as Sappho.

  Claris had asked Lovell the origin of the name Sappho. He’d blushed and avoided answering, so she’d dug around in the library until she’d found a book about the ancient Greeks, which included a reference to the lady as a poetess. One of her poems was included, but unfortunately in Greek. She thought of Lovell�
�s blush and decided not to ask him to translate it.

  Perhaps she’d ask Perry about Sappho. Every time she thought about their reconnection, she couldn’t help but smile.

  By the day before departure, she still hadn’t decided whether to tell Perry about the child. She wasn’t even sure. Common knowledge said that women with child vomited, especially in the morning, but she hadn’t. Folklore said that cats acted strangely around pregnant women, but Yatta was his arrogant self.

  She summoned Mistress Eavesham and asked if there was a local midwife.

  The woman’s glance was sharp, but she answered. “Yes, ma’am. Becky Green in the village. She lives in a cottage hard by the Perriam Arms. She has an excellent reputation.”

  Claris walked there, upset by the housekeeper’s reaction. Did she, like Athena, think babies too much trouble?

  Mistress Green was gray and stooped, but her eyes were sharp. She accepted Claris’s gift of tea but turned grim when asked for advice. She asked a number of questions and then said, “Aye, ma’am, it’s likely you’re carrying. If you miss another bleeding, you can be sure.”

  “Is there anything I should do?”

  “Do?”

  “To ensure a healthy child.”

  “No one can ensure that, ma’am. It’s in God’s hands.”

  Claris didn’t care for the surly tone, so she left, thinking she might seek another midwife when her time came. On her way home, however, she came to a possible understanding.

  When she summoned the housekeeper again and asked, “Did Giles Perriam’s wives use Mistress Green for their deliveries?”

  “Yes, ma’am. She’s the only midwife locally.”

  “Does she also tend to the dead?”

  “When called upon, ma’am.”

  Claris sat for a moment in thought, and then went out to the smothered babes. Becky Green would have delivered all five and also laid out their corpses.

  The second wife might have asked for the midwife’s advice on her lack of a child.

  The poor third . . .

  Mistress Green had spoken grimly of God’s will because she feared more tragedies for a Perriam wife. Perhaps everyone here did. That could be why they were reserved, why Mistress Eavesham had seemed upset to be asked about a midwife.