Wedded in Scandal bf-1

by Jade Lee

  With sudden resolve, Helaine took the bread from the girl’s hand. “Here, I’ll feed your son. You pack a bag. For tonight, at least, you will stay with me. I won’t hear a word against it. Honestly, you will be doing me a favor. Mama has nothing to do all day but sit and mourn everything she has lost. So, quick now. Before it gets dark.”

  Penny released the bread to Helaine, but she didn’t move. Her eyes were huge and so full of sorrow that it broke Helaine’s heart. “But I cannot, Lady Helaine. It wouldn’t be right.”

  It had been so long since anyone had used her true name that the words actually gave her a start. It sounded so foreign. “I am Mrs. Mortimer now. While you are packing, you must tell me how you came to have this handsome boy here for a son.”

  Penny gave in. She grabbed a satchel and put in spare cloths for the child and some very worn clothes for them both. Then the three of them began the walk to the dress shop, though God only knew how Helaine would house them. There was barely enough room for herself and her mother above the shop. As for food, there was some soup left. Enough for two, but not for four. And Helaine had just spent her last coin on Lord Redhill’s tea.

  But perhaps there was something she could manage. She was still thinking about what she would do when Penny finally found the voice to talk.

  “He’s not my son, Mrs. Mortimer,” she said. “He’s my brother now, but he was my cousin. Mama’s sister died of childbed fever. We don’t know where his father is. He’s a seaman and like as not won’t be coming back. So he came to be with us. Papa declared him the son he never had, and so he’s my brother now.”

  Helaine arched a brow and looked down at the girl. “Of course. How terrible,” she said. She didn’t believe a word of it. Many a girl had gotten pregnant and disappeared for a while, only to return with a new “cousin” come to stay. But given her own sordid history, Helaine had no right poking holes in anyone else’s tale. “That must have been very hard on your mother.”

  “Mama cried on and off for the first month. But only when Tommy slept. Then after that, she was too busy to cry. And Papa was too happy to finally have a boy to learn the trade.”

  “Your father made beautiful shoes. I still remember the pair my father bought himself for Christmas one year. They were perfect, and he said they fit like a dream.”

  Penny didn’t answer, and too late Helaine realized that it had been a mistake to mention her father. Penny was one of the few people who knew the truth of her past, knew exactly who her father had been. She couldn’t risk that information getting out. She couldn’t allow any of her customers to know her real name. They would frequent the shop of a known courtesan, but would never come to one owned by the daughter of the Thief of the Ton.

  “Penny,” she began, hoping the panic didn’t show in her voice. “Penny, if you are to stay with me, you must remember: I’m Mrs. Helen Mortimer now. A dressmaker. Anything I might have been before, anyone I might have known before, is gone. Dead and gone. Do you understand?”

  Penny finally lifted her chin, her eyes round with surprise and then a slow understanding. “That wasn’t your fault, what your father did. Everyone knows that.”

  “No, my dear, they don’t.” Helaine stopped walking. They were at the top of an alley underneath a single large maple that had somehow survived the growth of the city around it. Tommy had finished his bread and was squirming to get down. Though it saddened her to do it, Helaine passed the boy back to Penny. She had to make the girl understand. “Surely you know about mistakes, Penny? About wanting to start again fresh and new?” She glanced significantly at the child. “My other life, my other name, is gone. You cannot tell a soul about it.”

  An odd expression flicked over Penny’s face, a deep hurt as if Helaine had wounded her. “I understand, Mrs. Mortimer. I won’t tell a soul.”

  Helaine released a breath, relieved all the way down to her toes. She remembered Penny as a quiet girl with large eyes and a clever mind. She didn’t think the girl would be one to gossip. “That’s good. If you can manage, the shop is not far from here.”

  They started walking again in silence. It might have been awkward except that it was filled with babbling sounds from little Tommy. They were nearly there when Helaine at last found the words to break the silence between them.

  “My mother will ask, you know. She was never one for discretion, not when you are to stay in our home with us. Will you tell us what happened to your family? Or shall I make something up?”

  Penny lifted up the boy in her arms, tucking his head against her shoulder. She rubbed her cheek against the curly mop of his hair as if for comfort. But when she spoke, her words were clear and calm and filled with such anger that it stunned Helaine.

  “My parents were murdered. Nearly six weeks ago. The creditors came and took everything they could. I have only our home, no money, and no one to care for Tommy while I look for work.” Then she lifted her head off the boy and looked Helaine in the eye. “So if you want me to keep your secret, you must make a bargain with me. Or I shall tell everyone who you are and what your father did.”

  Chapter 9

  Robert frowned at his desk, not at all pleased with the correspondence lying before him. There were the usual three piles. The first was a to-do pile of decisions regarding the family investments. It included letters from his stewards, management reports, articles, and a variety of scientific discussions regarding everything from mining to fishing rights. It was a very large pile and it sat at the top of his desk.

  At the far left where he really didn’t want to look was the pile he called “family melancholia.” This included his father’s latest ideas, reports about his younger brother’s Grand Tour of debauchery through Europe, and finally the doctor’s missive on his mother’s ailment. She had chronic pain, or so she claimed. Mostly, the woman just sat in the dark and stared at the fire. Some days she didn’t even get out of bed. The pile was dubbed “melancholia” because, despite his best efforts, he had been singularly unable to affect any aspect of that pile. His father had more wild ideas every day; his brother, Jack, obviously planned to seduce every female on the Continent; and his mother would not step out of her room. So whenever he looked at that pile, he was buried beneath a tide of sadness mixed with futility. It had gotten so bad lately that he’d ordered Dribbs to put a full, bushy plant on top of the pile. The man never did, of course, but he did keep a full bottle of brandy nearby.

  The third pile was easier to deal with, but no less small. It was simply bills. And his family had a lot of bills.

  But none of those piles were the subject of his current disgust. No, what lay before him dead center was two notes. One from the delectable Helaine and another from Charlie, the new mine manager. Helaine’s note held his attention the most. He smiled at the rough linen paper, held it to his nose to detect the faint sprinkling of lemon, and even traced his fingertip over her soft curving letters. Very feminine, to his mind, and also unusually fine penmanship for a girl of the middle classes, even a courtesan. So she must have had a decent education. All of that made him smile. Her words, however, did not.

  To Lord Redhill,

  Three vendors visited me this morning with offers of credit. Thanks to your efforts, I have hopes of establishing my little shop as a premier dressmaker to the ton. Words cannot adequately express my thanks. All I can do is to offer this humble token of tea for your enjoyment as it reminds me of you. Please know that my deepest expression of gratitude will come to you through your sister. I shall work tirelessly so that she is the most beautiful bride any woman could hope to be.

  With humble thanks,

  Mrs. H. Mortimer

  Robert snorted as he read it through again. He did not want her gratitude, and he certainly did not want it expressed through his sister. The very idea made him slightly queasy. Of course that was clearly the point. It was rather repulsive to think of his mistress also being his sister’s dressmaker. Only a madman would pursue such a thing, especially against both lad
ies’ wishes.

  And yet he could not stop himself. Helaine drew him. She challenged his mind, she roused his protective instincts, and she made him harder than granite. No woman of his acquaintance had ever done all three things. He had barely spent more than a couple hours in her presence and yet he’d spent the better part of the last two days thinking of more ways to intrigue her. Intrigue her, tempt her, then seduce her. That was his plan, and he was spending an inordinate amount of time thinking of ways to do it.

  The other letter on his desk was not nearly so enticing. It was from Charlie, the young man who had shown such strength of character down in the mines that one benighted day. After firing the old manager, Robert had promoted Charlie to the job. The boy wrote that the sacked Mr. Hutchins was stirring up the workers. He said that men who had not one month ago cursed Hutchins’s name were now following him as he fostered a revolt. It was all because Robert had shut down the mine for repairs. He would not allow one man, woman, or child inside the damn place until it was safe to do so. But men out of work had little to do but curse the people in charge. And Robert’s other decree, that he would hire no woman and no child under the age of twelve, had hit some families hard. They needed the extra income. Which meant that the whole area was a powder keg of unrest.

  Damn. It would take more money and more time to settle this peacefully. And that would take him away from London when he really wished to be with Helaine. Enough dithering, he told himself sternly. It was time for action. So thinking, he grabbed his own stationery and pen. Two minutes later he had invited the lady to share tea with him at a small, intimate café. If she wanted to express her gratitude, then she could do so in person. Where he could persuade her to be more demonstrative of her thanks. A minute later, he rang his bell for Dribbs.

  “Dribbs, I need you to send a footman to deliver a note for me, if you would.”

  There was a deafening silence as his butler hesitated at the door, neither coming closer to grab the letter nor stepping outside to call for a footman.

  Robert looked up with a frown. “Dribbs?”

  “Er, might I inquire, my lord, is that perhaps a missive for Mrs. Mortimer, the dressmaker?”

  Robert straightened up with a frown. “My correspondence is none of your concern, Dribbs, just the delivery. Any competent butler would know that.”

  The man colored a dark red to the tips of his ears, but he did not back down. “Of course, my lord,” he said. “But it may interest you to know that I also received a note from Mrs. Mortimer.”

  Robert felt his eyebrows rise almost into his hairline. “Did you?” he asked, his voice deceptively low. “I can’t imagine what about.”

  “Well, my lord, she bade me to make a pot of your new tea directly, and…um…”

  “Spit it out, man.”

  He didn’t spit it out. In fact, he dashed out of the room only to return a second later with the tea tray. On it was a steaming pot of tea, presumably with the leaves already brewing. The tea, he recalled, that Helaine had sent. The tea that reminded her of him. He took a tentative sniff and felt his sinuses clear. Good Lord, but that was strong stuff. Meanwhile, Dribbs finished setting out the tray, but he didn’t leave. Instead he stood there, still flushed a dark red, and with a clear apology in his eye.

  “She said something else, didn’t she?” Robert asked.

  “Yes, my lord. She said if you were to write her a letter or in any way try to contact her, I was supposed to give you something. And say something.”

  Robert leaned back, surprise and pleasure slipping through his mind. “Go on.”

  “She said that she hopes you enjoy this rather strong, almost overbearing brew. And that while you are drinking, you might enjoy some reading material.” At which point, Dribbs held out a political pamphlet.

  Robert took it, frowning as he saw an unfamiliar woman’s name as the author. A quick glance, however, had him bursting out with laughter. The opening lines asked these questions: Why can’t women have productive careers? Why are we forced to choose between becoming a wife or a whore with nothing in between? It went on to claim that a woman without a man was perforce expected to become a mistress. She was barred from most legitimate trades and occupations. And even the lower orders such as maids and cooks were subjected to the lewd and unwanted advances of their employers. Almost as if the men believed that if a woman had no protector, she must wish to be a whore.

  The message from Helaine was obvious. Coupled with her statement that this overbearing tea reminded her of him, she was sending him a well-deserved slap. After all, she had refused him. And when he thought to ignore her refusal, she turned his own butler against him.

  “Clever woman,” he said as he continued to scan the pamphlet. Sadly, he did indeed recognize the attitudes described in the treatise. Other men of his set, and certainly his own father, believed the female staff existed to serve his needs—sexual and otherwise. He had not until this moment put himself in that category.

  Meanwhile, Dribbs was shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, obviously nervous about his employer’s reaction. Robert barely spared him a glance.

  “Never fear, Dribbs. You are not about to be punished, but do try to recall that you work for me and not Mrs. Mortimer.”

  “Of course, my lord. Did you…would you still like me to call a footman for your letter?”

  “No, no. I shall have to write something else now.” Then, while Dribbs was bowing himself out, Robert took his first sip of the tea, which surprised him by being rather delightful. It was bold, strong, and with a hint of something sweet underneath that kept it from being crass. In truth, it reminded him of her.

  He continued to sip his tea and think of her. He also read her pamphlet from cover to cover, then, when that was done, he turned his attention back to Charlie and the difficulties at the mine. It was another hour before he realized he was stuck. And another hour beyond that before he was rescued and from a most unusual source: Gwen’s fiancé.

  The boy was of a lanky build and quiet demeanor and had the rather prosaic name of Edward. His father had died of a fever some years back, so he had inherited the baronetcy as well as a parcel of domineering women in his mother and an aunt who had been a stern schoolteacher. He had a younger brother who was off at school and a sister who was growing up to resemble the mother, more’s the pity. And yet, this quiet, henpecked boy, who looked just like an Edward ought, had somehow captivated the vivacious Lady Gwen.

  Exactly how he had done it was a mystery Robert wanted to solve. And given that Robert was doing nothing more than sipping cold tea and staring at correspondence that annoyed him, the sound of Edward’s voice in the hallway was a welcome distraction. When the boy requested a moment of his time, it seemed like a gift from heaven. When Dribbs opened the door, Robert bade the boy to please sit down, by God. He ordered something stronger than tea, too, though, given this tea, he wasn’t sure anything but a stiff brandy would qualify.

  “Hello, hello, Edward,” Robert began with a warm smile. “What brings you here this afternoon?”

  “Escaping my mother and aunt, of course,” said the boy as he dropped into the leather chair by the fire. “Must tell you how sorry I am that we rented the house next door. You’re not used to having all those women squawking about, and I’ve talked to them about making too free with your door, but they don’t listen. Not yet, at least. But if you want them barred, I’ll see to it.”

  Robert took a moment to stare at the boy. Edward wasn’t fidgeting, just sitting there with an open-eyed honesty. “You’re asking me if I want to bar your mother from my doorstep a few weeks before your wedding?”

  “My mother, my aunt, and my sister. Yes, my lord. And myself, too, if you wish, though I’d be sad ’bout that, you understand.”

  “But you’re about to marry my sister.”

  The boy grinned. “Exactly. I’m stuck with my kin, you see, but you aren’t. And I can’t see the point of upsetting my future brother-in-law just because my mother
likes to poke around where she’s not wanted.”

  Robert tried to think back. “Has she poked herself somewhere she wasn’t wanted?”

  “Well, she did rearrange your mother’s thingy-bobs.”

  Robert raised his eyebrows. “Thingy-bobs?”

  “A shepherdess and her flock, I believe. In the salon.”

  Oh, that. He remembered now.

  “And she bought your mother perfume, too, I believe.”

  Robert was busy unstopping the brandy bottle but he did manage to raise an eyebrow. “Why would I be insulted by a gift of perfume?”

  “Well, she gave it to your mum by way of saying that the lady smelled and this would sweeten her up.”

  Robert released a snort of amusement. “My mother does smell badly at times. So maybe she will take the hint.”

  “And then she forced your mum to take a walk. All but abducted her. I doubt Mum could have done it alone, but she had my aunt and sis with her. To hear them tell it, they grabbed both of your mum’s arms and just lifted. Then didn’t stop until they were blocks away.”

  Robert set the brandy down, his mouth slack with astonishment. “They forced my mother to walk with them?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “But she hasn’t been out of the house in…in three years.”

  “So I was given to understand. Which was the final straw, you see. I don’t listen to half what they say, but that was too much. If your mother’s of a delicate constitution, she won’t be proof against the women of my family. They’re too much for most men, you see. And, well, I wouldn’t want to overset something you had placed in balance. But that’s what my mum does, you see. Oversets things that are in balance. Which leaves the rest of us to put everything back in order.”

  “You mean you do it,” Robert said. “You put everything back in balance.”

  “Well, I am the man of the household. It is my duty, and all.”

  “By asking me if I want to bar your family from my door.”