“I’d like to see you try, old man,” John countered. “It doesn’t sound all that threatening when you say it in your puffed-up French accent!”
“John, please,” Tristan spoke up. “Dubois, John does not have to come with us if he doesn’t want to. I’m sure I can manage on my own. I’ve been known to tie my own cravat on occasion. In fact, I don’t see much need for a valet. It’s not like I’m going to need to be dressed to the nines. I’ll go around in my shirtsleeves if I want to… with scuffed boots!”
John heard a challenge in the viscount’s words. “No, my lord! I’m coming with you!”
“What about zis fiancé of yours?”
“Yes, who is she?” inquired the ill-fated viscount. “It’s the first I’ve heard of her. What does she do?”
John looked at the ceiling, as if the answer would fall from the sky. “I don’t know, my lord. She’s a baker’s daughter. She don’t do nothing, really.”
“Can she bake?”
“I ‘spose so,” John answered with a shrug. “She makes good treacle tart.”
“Well, I see no reason why she can’t come with us. I’m sure Dubois could use some help in the kitchen. How long has he been doubling as a chef? I’m sure he could use a break.”
Nell sobbed again, and everyone turned their eyes on her. When she noticed she was being watched, she said, “Poor Lord Randall! He’s the one who’s dying, and yet he’s being so considerate to all of us! He’s so… sensitive to our needs!” She buried her face in the handkerchief.
“Yes… well…” the viscount said, clearing his throat as he spoke. “Ask her if she’d like to go to Berkshire with you, John… that is, if you think it’s a good idea.”
John gave a nod. “I think it’s a brilliant idea, sir.”
A brief silence fell over the room. There was another topic he needed to address, but he was waiting for Nell to collect herself. When she seemed calm enough, Tristan said, “I have something else to say. When we go to Berkshire, I plan to go there with a wife.”
He thought he heard Nell draw a breath. Dubois’ frog eyes were bulging.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Tristan said. “It should be wrong to take a wife, knowing I could make her a widow in a week. But I don’t want to leave this world without knowing companionship. I don’t expect love to come out of such a union, but I want someone by my side when I draw my last breath. I don’t want to be like my father…dying alone.”
“But my lord,” it was Dubois who finally spoke up. “Are you sure about zis? Won’t it be difficult to find a wife so qweeckly?”
Tristan felt a little tug on his heart, like someone reached into his chest and gave it a pinch. Was it his heart condition, or was it the thought of marrying that made his heart contract?
Leaning forward in his chair, the viscount answered, “Actually, Dubois... I already have someone in mind.”
Chapter Six
Leona stayed in her room for several days. After the way he treated her, she didn’t care to see her father. She hated to have to rely on him for anything, let alone her means for existing. Was there really nothing she could do for herself?
For awhile, Leona thought she might starve herself. Mary brought her several meals, which Leona didn’t touch. Her appetite was gone, even though she was supposed to be eating meals for two. When two breakfasts and two suppers were completely untouched, Leona’s maid got on her hands and knees and begged her to put something in her mouth.
“Please eat!” Mary had tears in her eyes as she spoke. “I know about the baby, miss!”
Leona gasped. “You… what?!”
“I overheard what you and your father were saying! I couldn’t help it, he was shouting so loud! No one else knows! And I promise I won’t tell anybody! But you must eat something! You have to keep your health!”
“Are you trying to blackmail me into eating?”
“No, miss!” Mary gasped, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. “How could you think such a thing? I never would! I just don’t want to see any harm come to you is all!”
Leona lifted her fork and dropped a carrot in her mouth. When Mary seemed so concerned about her, it was impossible to disappoint the girl. The maid wasn’t a handsome woman, but she had the warmest, gentlest eyes. To see disappointment in those eyes would have been heartbreaking. “I’m so ashamed of myself, Mary. You must think I’m a terrible girl.”
“It’s not my place to judge you, miss,” Mary answered solemnly. “And even if it was… my opinion of you hasn’t changed. We all do things we’re not proud of, don’t we? It’s part of being human.”
“Oh, Mary… it’s so kind of you to say that. I just wish my father felt the same way.” Leona stabbed another carrot with her fork and held it in front of her face. She could eat the carrots, but the smell of the duck made her nauseous. “To be honest, I understand why he’s acting the way he is. A lady of my class has to set an example, and I’ve let him down. I’ve lost my virtue. I’ve lost the very asset which allowed me to call myself a lady. I’m no longer the sort of daughter any man would want.”
“Oh, miss…” Mary shook her head. “You’re being so hard on yourself!”
Leona closed her eyes and heaved a sigh. She felt like she needed to be hard on herself. One moment of stupidity would cost her a lifetime of potential happiness. When she opened her eyes and saw the concern on Mary’s face, Leona felt a little relieved. At least there was one person in the world who wouldn’t despise her.
Well, maybe two.
As if reading Leona’s mind, the maid said, “Miss Westcock stopped by today.”
“Silly!” Leona exclaimed.
“Yes. I believe that’s what you call her,” Mary chuckled.
A crease formed between Leona’ eyes, marring her flawless face, like a crack on a porcelain statue. “Why did no one tell me?”
“Your father turned her away as soon as she got here,” Mary explained. “He said you were feeling under the weather… that you weren’t up to receiving visitors.”
“Oh, that’s awful! He’s cutting me off from everyone, isn’t he? Is that what he’s planning to do?” Leona bit into another cooked carrot, and it tasted blander than ever. As she chewed, she thought about how impossible it would be to explain everything to Silly. Her friend would lose all respect for her. After a moment’s consideration, Leona amended, “No… he’s right. It’s for the best.”
Mary started to head for the door. “Well, miss, I’ll leave you to enjoy your dinner. If there’s anything you need--”
“Thank you, Mary,” Leona interrupted. As soon as Mary left the room, Leona added in a whisper, “I appreciate your concern. You may very well be my only friend.”
And she shoved her dinner aside.
* * *
A few days later, Leona heard her father’s voice in the hallway. It was the first she had heard of him since she cloistered herself in the bedroom. She’d been writing in her diary for nearly an hour, but the sound of his voice made her drop her quill.
When Leona heard the knock on her door, her body went into a state of petrification. It was a miracle she got her lips to move. “Y-yes?” she reluctantly called out.
“It’s your papa.”
Papa? If he was referring to himself as “papa,” maybe he’d had a chance to soften? Nevertheless, Leona didn’t want to get her hopes up. “Come in.”
When he entered the room, Leona kept her back to him. She was sitting at her desk, using an old handkerchief to dab at the spilt ink from her dropped quill. She was afraid to see his face, but she knew she had to look at him eventually. After he was silent for several seconds, Leona clenched her ink-stained handkerchief and turned to face him. “Father,” she acknowledged quietly.
“Yes. Good morning.” His face wasn’t friendly, but at least he wasn’t firing daggers with his eyes.
“Good morning.”
“You’ve been in your room for a week.”
“Yes. I suppose I ha
ve.”
“That’s foolish. I didn’t mean that you had to stay in here all the time.”
“Oh,” Leona looked down at her hands, which were restless on her lap, twisting the handkerchief. “I see. Well… now that I know I am at liberty to wander around the house, I guess you’ll be seeing me more often. However, I wish you would let me choose whether or not I want to send my friends away.”
“Are you talking about that Westcock girl? You’re better off without her… or… she’s better off without you,” he coldly replied. “And I didn’t think you'd want to see any beaux in the state you’re in.”
“Beaux?!”
“Yes. Of course. There’s been gentlemen coming and going every day. Didn’t you know?” her father asked. “I told them you were feeling ill, and they sent you their regards. There’s a small garden of flowers sitting outside your door.”
“Oh.” Leona felt a wrench in her gut, like someone was twisting her handkerchief inside her stomach. A ghost of Leona’s former life came to haunt her in her father’s words.
“I got a letter from a man today,” her father went on, “and it gave me an idea.”
“A man? An idea?” Her father gave her little information to sate her curiosity.
“Yes, yes. I got a letter from the son of an old friend, and the letter ignited a spark in my head. Well… the idea had already been sitting there, but I needed something to give it a little shove.”
“Father, you’re not making any sense.”
“I’ll get around to it in a moment, daughter. Don’t be impatient,” her father chided her. “I had a thought, that is… to marry you off.”
But who would have me? Leona wanted to ask. “Marry me off?”
“Yes. Quickly. Very quickly.” Mr. Lennox gestured toward his daughter’s stomach. “And I thought we could pass that bastard off as your husband’s.”
Leona’s mouth fell open. She stared at her father for what felt like an eternity, unable to speak, unable to move. Finally, she said, “But father… that’s wrong!”
“Ain’t nothing wrong about it!” he protested. “What other choice do we have? It’s genius, if you ask me! If we can patch it together quickly enough, the taint on your name will be erased, and that bastard… assuming it’s a boy… will be this man’s heir!”
“Father…”
“I said I’d decide your fate, and that’s what I’m going to do! I’ve already decided!” He clenched a fist and waved it in front of her. “Now, now… don’t flinch, Leona. I’m not going to hit you, I’m just excited. This is the best idea I’ve had in my whole life. And you have to go along with it. It’s the only way out of this mess you’re in.”
“To lie?” Her lips were quivering. “Forgive me if I’m not thrilled about the prospect of sinning to erase my sin. I already feel like a terrible person. My own father wants me to feel worse!”
“Don’t be a foolish girl. There’s no need to get melodramatic about it. You can either take my advice, or let the whole world know you’re a whor… uh… a mother without a husband. I think your course of action should be obvious, poppet.” He tried to pat her on the head, but she dodged it. “Now, here’s what’s going to happen. There’s a young man coming to visit us in--”
Leona interrupted him. “Who is this man you expect me to marry? Shouldn’t I know the name of my future husband?”
Mr. Lennox grinned. He thought her curiosity must’ve been a sign of her compliance. “Viscount Randall.”
“A viscount?” Her mouth fell open. “But… father… he has a title? You want me to trick a viscount?”
Her father nodded, and calmly proceeded to explain the situation. “You met His Lordship when you were barely fifteen, but you must have made quite an impression on him. He wrote with an expressed interest in marrying you, dear. I didn’t even have to approach him on the matter! We’ve arranged everything nice and quickly, you see… the whole thing’s been dashed easy.”
Leona’s eyes felt like they were on fire. Suppressed tears made them burn. “I don’t remember him. Why would he want to marry me, of all people? Why now?”
“What does it matter? He wants to marry you, and that’s all that matters to me. You better not get any ideas in your head, Leona. If you spoil everything I’ve arranged, I’ll turn you out on the streets. I swear to God I will!” Mr. Lennox laid an arm across his daughter’s back in a poor show of affection. “If you do this, I’ll never have to worry that my daughter’s not taken care of. He’s got quite a fortune, you know. And the title. He might not be a handsome man, but you know how I feel about handsome men. You might even grow to like him.”
Leona didn’t know what to say. What could she say? Even if she objected to her father’s idea, what other choice did she have? If she took a gamble on the viscount, wouldn’t it be better than staying locked in her room, bearing her father’s consternation for the rest of her life? Even if her child was conceived in a moment of foolish lust, didn’t it deserve a chance? To have a fallen woman as a mother would be a poor start for any child, and a viscount would be a far better father than some uncaring, unnamed cad.
“Alright, father,” Leona answered with a sigh. “When is my husband… to be expected?”
Chapter Seven
Andrew was completely and utterly gobsmacked. “Leona Lennox? Are you sure about that, old chap? You haven’t got the name wrong?”
The viscount’s valet held out a coat, and Tristan slipped his arms through the sleeves. “Yes. Leona Lennox,” he simply replied.
“Are you sure we’re talking about the same girl? The Leona Lennox? The Leona Lennox I’m thinking of has an entire army of beaux at her disposal.”
“I can’t imagine there are too many Leona Lennoxes,” Tristan added thoughtfully.
“You arranged the whole thing with her father? I s’pose he must’ve gotten tired of waiting for her to choose. That sort of thing happens now and again. A father wants to marry off his daughter, but she’s being too picky…” Andrew took a puff from his cigar, and finished his glass of port.
“You know, you shouldn’t smoke those things around me. They might have some sort of effect on my delicate organs,” Tristan said.
But his friend ignored him. “I can’t believe you’re marrying Leona Lennox. What do you know about her?”
“Well… she’s pretty,” the viscount offered with a smirk.
“That doesn’t even begin to describe her. This girl has so many admirers, she should have a shrine in Greece… next to the goddess Aphrodite! I never pursued her myself, but I know several men who have. How’d you do it? How’d you decimate your competition so quickly?”
“They’re better men than me, I’m sure. I simply got lucky. Her father was an old friend of my father, and he was looking for a suitable husband. Everything was very timely.”
“Yes… well…” Except your dying. Andrew didn’t want to sound insensitive, so he kept his thought to himself. There was nothing less timely his impending death, which was surely a constant thorn in Tristan’s side. He didn’t need to be reminded of it. “Wow. I can’t believe you’re really getting married. It seems like only yesterday we were expressing our aversion to married life.”
“Needless the say, the circumstances… my circumstances… have changed. I only hope the girl’s wishes aren’t so vastly different from her father’s. I’d hate for her to resent me.” Tristan lowered his head, ashamed of himself. He knew nothing of the girl’s consent. What if marrying him was the last thing she wanted to do? How could he ever forgive himself if he became the cause of her unhappiness?
Tristan wondered if he should tell the girl’s father the truth about his situation. He didn’t have long to live, but how was he supposed to mention such a thing?
Andrew gently laid his glass on the table and flicked the ashes from his cigar into a small dish. “So, you’ll have me go with you, of course?”
“No.” Tristan’s refusal was adamant. “I don’t mean to sound cold, but no. This
is something I must do alone.”
There was a pained expression on Andrew’s face.
“As much as I appreciate your concern for my personal affairs, you mustn’t come with me.” Tristan’s valet, John, handed him a walking stick. It was more than a decoration these days. He needed to lean on it. “I’m afraid my fiancé would take one look at me, one look at you, and realize what a poor match her father made for her.”
* * *
“Father…” Leona peered through the window, trying to steal a glimpse of her fiancé as he alighted from the carriage. “You never told me he walked with a cane. Is he limping?”
“What?” Mr. Lennox nudged his daughter out of the way, stealing her view. “I don’t remember him being some sort of invalid. Well, I suppose it’s been about five years since I’ve seen him. Maybe he’s had some sort of accident.”
“Or maybe it’s just a walking stick? Gentlemen carry those.”
“Well, whatever it is, it looks like he’s using it as a cane,” Mr. Lennox added lazily.
“Such a fancy carriage!” Leona observed. “I suppose that makes sense. He is, after all, a viscount.”
“Hmm. Well, I don’t think his pockets are as vast as they could be, but he’s the best I could arrange in a short amount of time. He’s rich enough.”
Leona tried to reclaim the view of her fiancé, but her father refused to budge from the window. “He’s not so bad. I was expecting him to look like some kind of ogre. He’s not what I’d call handsome, but he has a nice face.”
Mr. Lennox gave his daughter another gentle shove. “He’s coming, Leona. Go upstairs. Give us gentlemen a chance to chat, will you? I’m sure there are some final arrangements that need to be made.”
Turning toward the stairs, Leona quietly countered, “you make it sound like you’re selling a horse.”
The Fallen Woman (A Regency Romance) Page 4