Wedded in Scandal bf-1

by Jade Lee

Helaine laughed. “My father is a talkative drunk, my lord. Having grabbed such an excellent brandy, he immediately had a party. And when asked by his drinking companions where he’d found such wonderful vintage, he told them. He just…told them. And there were likely servants there, too.”

  “Good Lord.”

  “In any event, Bedford found out and cried foul…”

  “And your father was soon banned from society and you along with him.”

  She let her head lean back against Robert’s arm and wondered how she could possibly be about to cry. She hadn’t cried about this in so very long. “My father was a drunk and a fool, and because of that—”

  “Because of him, you and your mother have had to fend for yourselves from almost the very start.” He sighed. “Which means, of course, that you have been the one doing it.”

  “Oh, no! At first my mother was quite the wizard at keeping us together. At finding the way to get us a free meal or new clothing on the sly. But most of that was dependent upon society. Upon friends who invited us to their homes for tea or the like. Once, I believe, one of her oldest friends paid my tuition at school.”

  “But some scandals cannot be overcome, even by old and very dear friends.”

  She sighed, mourning more for all that her mother had lost rather than herself. “Mama had married for love, you see. I knew that, of course. Papa could be so much fun.”

  “No wonder you take a dim view of passion, Helaine. You have seen how very costly it can be.”

  She nodded, seeing that he was right. Perhaps that was why she was so shocked by her mother’s revelation. “She hates him, though. She has said so often. She said it tonight as well, almost in the very same breath that she said she would do it all over again. It makes no sense.”

  “But isn’t that the point of love? To not make sense?”

  “But she hates him. I know she does.”

  “And she still loves him. The two are not so incompatible.”

  She twisted so that she could look him in the eye. “Of course they are. Hate and love are opposites. My mother is simply confused.”

  He laughed then. A low, rich sound that rumbled through his body into hers. It was so delightful a sensation that she could not be angry with him for laughing at her. “You would rather believe your mother insane than in love?”

  “I would rather the world made sense again. My father is a cad and a fool. My mother would be better off having never met him, never loved him, never married him.”

  “And yet she said tonight that she still loves him. And that bothers you.”

  “How would you like proof positive that your mother is insane?”

  He snorted. “We shall leave my mother and her ailments out of this, hm? We are speaking of your parents. I, for one, find it reassuring that love can withstand even the most terrible things. Yes, you suffered horribly because of your father’s mistakes, but the heart does not adhere to logic. And it can love despite someone’s faults.” He twisted slightly and she could see his eyes squint at her in the darkness. “Is that why you have never married? Never found a lover?”

  “What?”

  “Because you are looking for someone without faults. Someone who will not disappoint you as your father has done.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. No one is without faults.”

  “Exactly. And so you are alone.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that. She wanted to dismiss his idea out of hand, but inside she quailed. Was it true? Had she locked herself away because no man could possibly be perfect enough to not hurt her? “Then why am I here with you?” she said aloud, the question more for herself than for him.

  He tweaked her chin. “Perhaps because I am as perfect as you can find?”

  She snorted. “Hardly that.”

  “And yet, I am not so bad, either.”

  “What you are, my lord, is extraordinarily persistent. How many times have I rebuffed you? And yet you show up at my doorway and demand to see me.”

  “I made no demands,” he said with pretend hauteur. “I merely asked.”

  “It is one and the same with you.”

  “You did not need to come down.”

  She shrugged. “My mother insisted.”

  “Now, that is a bald-faced lie!”

  “She did!”

  “And you could have easily refused. But instead you put on a gown, brushed your hair, and are now here with me. Why, Helaine? I’m grateful, of course, but why?”

  She shook her head. “I told you before. Because I want to see this secret of yours.”

  “Ah, yes,” he said, though she could tell by his tone that he didn’t really believe her. “Then I suppose it is fortunate that we are here.”

  She straightened up from his side. She hadn’t even noticed the cab slowing down, but a moment later the door was opened and the driver was handing her down. She stepped out and looked around, recognizing the district if not their actual location.

  “Why would you bring me here?” she gasped. They were in the center of a row of large houses pressed tightly together. Farther down the street, a barely dressed woman stood at a doorway gesturing men inside. They were in an area known for its houses of prostitution, and he had brought her here!

  She was turning around to get right back into the carriage when he pulled her wrap over her head to shield her face. “Cover your head,” he said, “and keep tight to me until we are inside.”

  “But—”

  “Trust me!” he hissed as he grabbed her elbow and half walked, half marched her to a door. Had she been thinking more clearly, she would have resisted. There could be no good reason for him to take her to a place like this. But she was always muddleheaded around him, and so she went with him, ducking quickly inside when the door opened. Fortunately her madness never lasted for long. Once inside, she rounded on him immediately, her mouth open to blast him for whatever he thought he was doing. But her words were stopped in midbreath.

  They were standing in the middle of a large entry overdone in velvets and gilt. There were candles everywhere, or their stubs at least, and an open, spacious feel that she couldn’t help but appreciate. It was exactly as she might expect from a house of prostitution, except that she didn’t see any. No prostitutes. And even more confusing, she didn’t hear any. What she heard was children laughing. Three, if she had to guess—two girls and boy—but she wasn’t sure.

  “They’re playing with the kittens,” said the woman who had opened the door. “An’ jes’ like I said, that mama cat’s the best mouser I ever seen.”

  Helaine didn’t know what to say. Nothing made sense. Meanwhile, Robert was pushing the door closed and latching it with long familiarity. As he turned back, he touched Helaine’s elbow. “Mrs. Mortimer, may I present to you Chandelle of the Chandler.”

  The woman dropped into a neat curtsy, though her knees cracked as she did it. “Right pleased I am to meet any friend of Robert’s. I heard tell of your shop. Supposed to be right lovely designs.”

  “Uh—thank you,” Helaine responded, her gaze now taking in the woman before her. She was dressed practically, in warm wool of a common design. Her eyes were lined with wrinkles, not kohl, and she wore no jewels or anything, for that matter, that was designed to attract a man. She was as far from a working girl as Helaine could imagine, and that confused her even more.

  “Chandelle used to be a madame of a house of prostitution called the Chandler,” he began.

  “But we ain’t been doing that since ’is sixteenth birthday,” cut in Chandelle. “Now we’re jes’ a home for rest. Plus then there’s the kids.” At her gesture, they walked around a corner of the large room. There, rolling about on the floor, were three children and five kittens. The children were on their feet in a moment, all crowding around Robert. They were so thick that Helaine almost missed the younger woman sitting nearby. Her face was sallow, her eyes dull, but she smiled when she saw them and she greeted them in a whisper.

  “Evenin’, sir
, miss.”

  Robert spent a few moments with each child, speaking to them by name and asking over this or that. Helaine could tell he was well known and trusted by each child. Then he detached himself from the group to kneel before the young woman, his gaze intent on her face. “Good evening, Nettie. You shouldn’t be out of bed.”

  “Ain’t no bleeding or swelling,” she said. For proof, she took his hand and pressed it to her left side. Robert’s eyes narrowed as he poked lightly. She winced with every touch.

  “It’s still tender.”

  “’Course it be,” Nettie answered as she pushed his hand away. “What with you prodding at it. You leave it alone. I’m watching the children.”

  He stood up with a smile. “Very well, but not too long, mind.”

  Chandelle stepped in. “She’ll go to bed in five minutes, along with the children.”

  A chorus of dissent rose up from that statement, but Chandelle gave them all a stern eye. She didn’t even have to say a word, and within a minute, every one of them said a soft “Yes, ma’am.” Helaine couldn’t help but be impressed. Clearly Chandelle was the law around here. Meanwhile, Robert took her elbow and steered her back toward the main entranceway.

  “My father gave me the Chandler on my sixteenth birthday not knowing, of course, that all the women here were sick with a fever. He left, but I stayed on, helping to nurse them. We’ve been a hospital of sorts ever since then, but the name remains.”

  She stopped dead in her tracks, her mind working too slowly. “So I wasn’t wrong. This is…It was…”

  “Yep,” inserted Chandelle as she came forward. “It were, but it ain’t been that for a long time now. Go on,” she said as she gestured them upstairs. “Go on and show ’er what you really do when you come here.” Then she released a cackle. “Well, that’s when I ain’t got him doing bedpans.”

  Helaine gasped. “You…you empty bedpans?”

  He gave her a rueful look. “On occasion.”

  “Ha!” Chandelle inserted. “I makes sure ’e does ’em once a week just to keep ’im humble.”

  Helaine felt a smile curve her lips. “I’m afraid it’s not working very well, then. Perhaps you should increase the frequency.”

  Robert groaned. “Lord, Helaine, I didn’t bring you here to get me in trouble.”

  “Twice a week it is,” confirmed Chandelle. “Now go on up! Afore the rats get yer dinner.”

  Robert arched a brow in mock challenge. “I thought you said the mama cat was a great mouser.”

  “She’s only one cat!” Chandelle exclaimed. “She can’t get them all. Now shoo! You know the children won’t go to bed if yer around to play with.”

  At that Robert extended his hand to Helaine. She took it and they began to climb. It wasn’t a long way to the upper floor, but she spent the whole time sorting through what she’d seen and what she’d guessed. It started with Gwen. “Your sister has no idea about this, does she? Not what the Chandler was or what you’ve made of it.”

  “It mortifies me to think that she’s heard of this. I will have to explain it to her, so she knows not to be blurting it out.”

  “Why haven’t you already?”

  He grimaced as they topped the last step. “Because it is none of her business!” he groused. “This is my place. Every gentleman should have a place to go for some peace. This is mine.”

  “Most men pick gaming clubs.”

  He snorted. “Betting on a roll of the dice has always seemed singularly useless to me. The stakes are too low. Money, pshaw! Trying to find the cure for the pox or a bad knife wound, now that is a puzzle for a man.”

  Helaine had no answer for that, and while she sorted through those words, he squeezed her fingers. “Forgive me, but I really need to check on the baby. His mother died a few days ago. We’ve found a wet nurse, but one can never tell if the babe will take.” So saying, he knocked lightly on the nearest door, waiting until it opened. There stood a woman with full breasts and a milk-stained gown.

  “Just got them both down, sir. Sleeping like a dream.”

  Robert tiptoed inside to look down at two cribs, the first with a girl who had the nurse’s light brown hair. But the second was a tiny boy with dark hair and the tiniest little face Helaine had ever seen. He couldn’t be more than a couple weeks old at most.

  “So he’s feeding?” Robert asked the woman.

  “Oh, yes, poor mite. Took a bit o’ coaxing, but he’s all right and tight wi’ it now.”

  “Thank you, Nan. You make sure to tell Chandelle if you need anything.”

  “We be right perfect, we is. I can’t thank you enough for letting us stay here. We were in a right poor way, me and my Missy.”

  Robert held up his hand to stop the effusive thanks. “That was Chandelle’s doing, not mine.”

  “But you paid fer the doctor—”

  “Chandelle did. Good night, Nan.” And with that, he backed out of the room.

  Helaine snorted. “Liar,” she whispered after he had shut the door.

  He spun around. “What?”

  “You are paying for this. For everything.”

  His lips quirked, but he shook his head. “Chandelle manages it all. I merely visit from time to time.”

  “To clean bedpans.”

  “Yes. And to…I’m sorry. One moment more.” He tapped on another door, opening it when a quavering voice bade him enter. Inside was an old woman, clearly bedridden, but with eyes that warmed to light honey when she saw him.

  “Sir!” she cried, then she descended into a bout of coughing that left her weak and pale.

  He crossed to her quickly, supporting her body as she gasped for breath, then helping her drink from a glass of water when she was done. “It is not helping, is it?” he asked when she was finally back against her pillows, her breath shallow but steady.

  “It’s my time, sir. Ain’t no medicine…can stop it now.”

  “No, Miss Mary, it isn’t. We shall find—”

  “Stop!” she said with as much force as she could muster. “This your woman?”

  “I—,” he began, but his words were cut off as Miss Mary waved Helaine forward.

  “Come, come. Let me see…who ye finally picked.”

  Helaine stepped in. “Hello. My name is Mrs. Mortimer, and yes, I am certainly a friend of—”

  “Sir,” he said quickly, cutting her off. “I am simply ‘Sir’ here.”

  She arched her brow, but showed her understanding with a slight nod. “We are friends, he and I. Besides, I begin to think you ladies are his real love.”

  The woman laughed at that, her mouth opening to a toothless grin, but she hadn’t enough breath for a real laugh. In the end, she settled with a pat on Robert’s hand as she caught her breath. “He ain’t brought…no one here. Nor took…any woman. We all offered.”

  “You took sick,” said Robert as he pressed a kiss to the back of Miss Mary’s hand. “Otherwise I would have tumbled madly in love with you.”

  Miss Mary smiled, but her eyes were on Helaine. “Hurt ’im,” she said, “an’ I’ll haunt you. Your hair’ll go white. Teeth rot. Haunt you—”

  “I shall not hurt him,” Helaine said.

  “Swear it.”

  Robert patted the woman’s hand, trying to distract her. “There’s no need—”

  “I swear I shall do everything I can to see him happy,” she said, surprising herself with her words. But even as she said them, there was a rightness to it. Whatever else Lord Redhill was, he was a good man. Any man who could create a place like this—a home where women and children lived in happiness—was a worthy man in her eyes. His Grosvenor Square home showed the privilege of his rank. But this place, with the poor and the dying, was something else entirely. This showed his true heart.

  Miss Mary held her gaze for a long while, impressing her will upon Helaine. It was odd getting this steely a gaze from a dying woman, but there was strength in Miss Mary despite her frail body, and Helaine had no doubt she coul
d make good on her threat to haunt anyone who hurt her “Sir.”

  In the end, the woman was satisfied. Miss Mary let her eyes drift closed as she patted Robert’s hand. “Go. Be young. Make babies.”

  “I shall talk to the doctor tomorrow about your medicine. We shall find something to help.”

  Miss Mary didn’t answer except to wave him away. He nodded to her, though she couldn’t see it, and tiptoed out. Helaine followed a half step behind. He didn’t speak again until after the door was pulled tightly shut.

  “She was Chandelle’s madame, once upon a time. Quite a beauty, too. Used to run three houses with twenty girls each.”

  Helaine gasped, her eyes going back to the shut door. “She pulled girls into this life? Into—”

  “Don’t judge,” he said quickly. “The girls would be taking men either way. Best they do it in a clean, safe place where they’re paid for their service.” He turned to her, and in his eyes she could see that he wanted her to understand, to see the women beneath the job.

  “Of course,” she said slowly. She well knew the desperate straits a woman could face. She would not judge any woman who chose that path. But what about the woman who paved the road? Who trapped others into the life? In her mind, they were all like Johnny Bono, taking advantage where they could in service to their own base needs.

  She felt his hand on her chin, encouraging her to look him in the eye. “This is a place for women to come and die with dignity. Or to heal from wounds, like Nettie. She was stabbed by her customer because he didn’t want to pay. Chandelle mans the door, and only she can ask what happened to bring them here. I don’t care. Can you understand that, Helaine? I don’t care who they were. Only what I see before me: sick women who need a little care.”

  Helaine swallowed, ashamed of her own prejudices. She never would have thought that Robert would have a better understanding of the poor and the weak than she. She never would have thought he would prove to be kinder than she. But he was. This place proved it.

  “Show me the rest, Robert. Let me see it all.”

  His smile showed relief and joy, and before long, she was peeking in on ten ladies, plus Chandelle and the children. And then on the topmost floor was one last room, which he proclaimed his sanctuary. Pushing it open, she saw a ratty desk piled high with notes, another table of bottles containing what must be medicines, a plate of cold chicken and wine—their dinner, she presumed—and a large, comfortable bed stacked high with pillows.