“Maybe you should try to see your situation in a more positive light. A child is a miracle.”
“Wait… but…” Leona stirred on the bench. “Did you just say something about the next Viscount Randall?”
Tristan nodded. “Of course! Naturally, our son will inherit my title,” he said. “That is to say… as far as the world’s concerned, he will be my child. Unless you have any objections?”
“No!” she nearly shouted.
“I haven’t repeated to anyone what you told me… the reason behind your father sending you away. And I don’t plan on it.” When he saw the terrified look on Leona’s face, Tristan chuckled. “You don’t have to look so worried, Leona! I’ve fully accepted the fact that you’re with child. No… I’m happy about it.” He reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re providing me with a family I never thought I’d have a chance to have.”
“You really feel that way?”
“Of course.”
“Then… how do you feel about the name David?”
“I think it’s a fine name.”
“Good.” Leona leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder, but as soon as she did, Tristan rose from the bench and looked off in the direction of the cathedral.
“We should probably head back to my aunt’s cottage,” he said, offering Leona a hand.
With tears in her eyes, she took his proffered hand and rose to her feet. She thought his reaction to her closeness was proof that he wasn’t completely tolerant of her situation. Leona could tell he cared about her, but she knew he was hiding something—an unspoken suffering. Regardless of how kind and accepting he had been, she knew her deception was eating him inside. Could he really be that happy about raising another man’s baby? Tristan might have been the kindest person she’d ever known, but he wasn’t a saint. She wouldn’t blame him if he resented her.
If he did resent her, Leona knew she would spend the rest of her life resenting herself.
Chapter Twenty Eight
“Not only does he break vases…” Aunt Bess said with a sigh, “but he also has horrible table manners.”
She was referring to Andrew, who was busily stuffing a slice of beef, a large slice of potato, and a few beans in his mouth. He chewed them all at once, as quickly as he could. Another slice of roast was hanging at the end of his fork, eagerly waiting for his mouth to swallow so he could eat some more.
“He’s… not usually like that,” Tristan defended his friend. He looked over at his wife, whose wide eyes were intent on watching Andrew shovel food into his face. He was unaware, or perhaps not caring, that he was the topic of conversation.
“Is your friend really a gentleman? He doesn’t act like it most of the time,” Bess added haughtily. “He chases after women, he breaks priceless valuables, he acts like a boor at supper, and he courts maids!”
“He’s usually an impeccable gentleman, I assure you.”
“Well, he does look like one,” Bess said, waving her fork in Andrew’s direction. “He’s dressed to the nines. Is there some special occasion I’m not aware of?”
“If there is, I’m not aware of it either,” Tristan answered.
Grumbling, Andrew took a break from his binge so he could answer the witch’s question. At least, to him she was a witch. He didn’t understand why Tristan went on and on about how sweet his aunt was—she was always nasty to Andrew. “I’m trying to eat quickly because I have somewhere I need to be!” he confessed. “I don’t usually make a habit of eating like a pig, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Bess dropped her fork on her plate and raised an eyebrow. “You have somewhere you need to be? At this hour?”
“Why is that such a surprise?”
Bess raised her shoulder at Andrew, who was sitting on her left. It looked as if half of her body was cringing. “A tryst with some woman, no doubt.”
“Even if that’s the case, I’m not likely to confess it, am I? Besides, I hardly think my penchant for romantic exploits is an appropriate dinner conversation. There are ladies present!”
“Mr. Lamb, the only two ladies present are Lady Randall and myself. If she’s that easily offended, I do apologize. But I’m not the sort of woman to bat an eye at the mention of a tryst! And I’m not afraid to call out a man’s bad behavior when I see it!”
Andrew locked eyes with Tristan for a few seconds, which gave him the strength to hold his tongue. He didn’t want his clash with his friend’s aunt to escalate any further. “I’m not doing anything bad, ma’am. I never would!” He took the tiniest piece of roast between his teeth and nibbled on it.
It was apparent, by the look in Bess’ face, that she was only tolerating him for her nephew’s sake. “I’m sorry if I’m being hard on you, young man… it’s just that you remind me of every man who ever broke my heart. I’m sure you’re out there breaking hearts as well.”
Tristan started to nod, but he felt Andrew kick him under the table.
“Well, then…” Andrew cleared his throat and rose from the table. “I guess I should get going. I don’t want to be late, you know.”
“For your tryst,” Bess murmured.
“For my meeting,” he corrected her. He’d only met three women in the world who were impossible to win over, and they were all under the same roof. Andrew swore there had to be some conspiracy against him.
“No breaking hearts!” Bess called to him as he retreated from the room.
“No breaking hearts,” he agreed. “I promise!”
Too bad it was a promise he couldn’t keep.
* * *
Molly walked into the room with a sneer on her face, which was her usual expression when she was in Mary’s company. With one hand on her meaty hip, the unpleasant maid bellowed, “Ya got a package outside.”
Mary, who had been enjoying a rare moment of solitude, sat up in her bed. “What?”
“Do you need to clean your ears out, girl? Didn’t you hear what I said?” Molly grumbled. “You got a package.”
She slid off the bed and walked over to Molly, not letting the larger woman intimidate her. “Where is it? Outside this room?”
“Yeah. ‘Tis.” Molly grabbed the doorknob and threw open the door. Sure enough, there was a large box sitting on the floor. “Go on and get it. I can’t be trippin’ over that every time I want to come into me room, can I?”
Mary carried the box into the room and sat on the bed. She started to open it, but her eye was caught by a note on the top of the box. “Are… are you sure this is addressed to me?”
“Of course it is!” Molly said with a roll of her eyes. “Why wouldn’t it be yours? It’s got your name on it, dunnit?”
Mary pulled the note off the box and sighed. With a heavy heart, she stared at the carefully-drawn letters. “I can’t… I mean, I…”
“Ye can’t read?” Molly finished for her. “Goodness, girl… I’m right, ain’t I? You mean you can’t even read yer own name?”
Mary shook her head with shame.
Molly reached over and snatched the note from the other maid’s hand. Mary started to protest, but she decided not to. She had no other way of reading it. Maybe Molly actually wanted to help her—for a change.
Molly unfolded the note and grimaced. “Hm… hmm… eh…?”
“What does it say? Who is it from?”
“That gentleman. The other one. Mr. Lamb,” Molly said. “There’s a dress inside that box.”
“A dress? Well… what does the note say? Can you tell me exactly?”
“A summary’s good enough.” Molly tossed the letter and let it flitter to the floor. “He wants to take you somewhere.”
“Are you sure? Where is he taking me?”
“You ask too many questions. You’re disturbing me peace.” With a groan, Molly flopped down on the bed adjacent to Mary’s. The bed popped and squealed when she sat. “Just open the box and close yer mouth.”
Mary didn’t care for the other woman’s tone, but she thought her advice
was sound. She opened the box and peered inside, half-expecting Molly to be mistaken about the contents of the box. There was, indeed, the most beautiful dress inside, softer than any fabric Mary had ever touched. The dress was the color of wine, and it was trimmed in crème-colored lace. She nearly gasped when she saw it. “This is… for me?”
“I thought I told you to be quiet!” Molly grumbled.
“He shouldn’t be giving me gifts like this. It’s… not proper,” Mary whispered to herself. Gentlemen weren’t supposed to give such lavish gifts to ladies—of course, she wasn’t a lady. Nevertheless, she knew she would have a hard time accepting such a thing. Raising her voice a bit, she asked, “You said he was taking me somewhere. When? Does he want me to wear this now?” As soon as she spoke, Mary cringed at her own words. She didn’t want to sound too eager or too hopeful where Mr. Lamb was concerned.
“The letter di’nt say whether to put on the dress or not,” Molly answered with a shrug, sounding considerably more tolerant of the fact that her peace was “disturbed”.
“But--”
“But I would assume ye should. He’s definitely takin’ you someplace tonight.”
“I didn’t agree to go anywhere with him, just so you know.”
“As if that’s any concern ‘o mine!” Molly rolled over. “If you have anything else to say to me, you’ll have to say it to me back. I know you haven’t been working since you been here, but some of us have to get up before dawn breaks.”
Mary frowned. She couldn’t remember the last time she had encountered such rudeness. She had no idea why Molly disliked her so much. Mary couldn’t bring herself to imagine it might have anything to do with jealousy—there was nothing to be jealous of! The attention Andrew paid her couldn’t possibly be a reason to envy her. Whatever Andrew was playing at, Mary knew it couldn’t be genuine. She had to keep reminding herself that over and over again, because she was starting to like Andrew too much for her own good. It was so much easier to distrust him than it was to like him, because at least there wouldn’t be any adverse side effects to mistrust.
Her conscious told her not to play Andrew’s game. It told her to return the dress and refuse to go anywhere with him. But her curiosity was too great. The idea that he might really like her—even a little bit—was enough to seduce her out of her bed. Mary removed her clothes and slipped into the dress, shaking her head the entire time. What was she thinking?
Standing in front of the looking glass, she started to twist her hair into a bun. Such a plain hairstyle did nothing to complement the fancy dress, but she didn’t know how to style her hair any other way. True, she styled Leona’s hair every day, and she was very good at it. But her own hair was an entirely different story.
As soon as she was finished with her hair, a knock on the door made Mary’s heart leap. Was it him? Was it Andrew? What if it was someone else? What if the dress really wasn’t meant for her? What if Molly was lying to her about who the box was meant for? When she heard the knock, a hundred different scenarios sprang into her mind, each one ending with the day becoming the most humiliating day of her life, even worse than the day she overheard Andrew saying she was “ghastly.”
She turned the doorknob with a trembling hand and took a deep breath. Indeed, it was Andrew on the other side of the door.
“Good, you’re wearing the dress,” he said. Wave after wave of relief washed over her as soon as she heard him say those words. “You look lovely. No… you look beautiful. That dress looks beautiful on you.”
Mary heard a groan behind her. It was Molly, of course… groaning into her pillow.
Mary pinched the cuff of her dress. “Did you really mean to give this to me?”
“Of course!”
“I don’t know if you should give me something like this, Andrew. This dress is ten times prettier than anything I’ve ever owned!”
Andrew smiled, secretly pleased that she called him Andrew instead of “Mr. Lamb.” He was starting to think she might never warm up to him enough to discard the formalities. “I think it looks perfect on you, Mary. I want you to have it. I’d give you a million other gifts, if I could… each one more grand than the next. Actually…” With a grin, he slipped his hand into the pocket of his greatcoat and pulled out another box. “This is also for you.”
She stared at the box with wide eyes, as if she expected it to bite her. “What is it?”
“Another gift.” He held it out to her. “Why don’t you open it?”
Taking the box in hand, Mary joined Andrew in the hallway and closed the door behind her. She didn’t want Molly’s prying ears to hear any more of their conversation. When she opened the box, it was all she could do not to gasp. Inside the box there was a necklace literally dripping in diamonds.
“This can’t be for me!” she exclaimed. “I can’t accept it!”
“You’re really bad at accepting gifts, you know. Here.” He plucked the necklace from the box and made a twirling motion with his finger. “Turn around. I’ll help you put it on.”
“Andrew! I can’t!”
He ducked behind her and slipped the necklace around her neck. “Yes… you can.”
“Why do I have to be dressed up like this? Where exactly are you taking me?”
“To see an opera.”
“And why would you even assume I’d be willing to go with you?!” she complained. “You shouldn’t make those kinds of assumptions!”
“I went through a lot of trouble to arrange all this, you know… to get the dress, the tickets, the necklace. I want to show you I’m serious about you, Mary. I want to show you how much you mean to me. If you turned me down after all this, you’d break my heart! I just want you to give me a chance.”
“Well, I...” she locked gazes with him for a few seconds, and her brain froze. It was almost impossible to feign indifference when he had such a handsome face and entreating eyes. “Ignoring the fact that it’s highly improper, I see no reason why I shouldn’t go with you.”
He held out an arm. “We better get going, then. We don’t want to be late.”
When she took his arm, he led her outside the manor, where a small carriage was waiting for them. He took her hand and helped her into her seat.
“You make me feel like a lady,” she said.
“You are a lady.”
“You know what I mean.” Mary sighed. “In the strictest sense of the word, I’m not a lady any more than a farmer is a gentleman. I’m not one of your… fancy society people.”
When the carriage started to move, Andrew leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. “Who cares about that?”
“Oh, it’s not that I care. I just think it’s nice to get a glimpse of what life would be like if I’d been born into a different family,” Mary said. “You know… it’s not that I don’t enjoy your company, Mr. Lamb. I like the attention.”
A smirk twitched on Andrew’s mouth. “Oh?”
“It’s not that I’m thinking of you as a suitor or anything like that… don’t get me wrong. I’m not naïve enough to think something like that could happen between us. I do enjoy your companionship, though.”
“So, am I naïve to think something like that could happen between us?” he asked. “Surely you must know that’s been my wish all along?”
Mary didn’t know how to respond to that, because it was getting harder and harder to be adverse to the idea of letting him have his way with her. She tightened her lips and turned her attention to the carriage window, choosing to remain silent for the rest of their journey. Fortunately, it wasn’t a long journey, or her silence might have turned awkward. A few minutes later, they stopped in front of the theatre. Andrew hopped down from the carriage, looking like a gothic hero in his sleek black coat. He offered Mary a hand and helped her to the ground.
“I’ve never seen an opera before,” she quietly admitted as they walked through the opulent entryway. “I’ve never even been to a theatre before.”
“Then I’m all the m
ore pleased to be sharing this experience with you,” Andrew said, taking her arm and tucking it under his. “I’m sure the theatre in York isn’t quite up to snuff with the theatre experience in London, but I’m hoping you’ll enjoy it nonetheless.”
When they stepped through the curtains into their own theatre box, Mary nearly gasped. “This is for… us?!”
“Of course. I couldn’t imagine sitting down there with the rest of the crowd,” he said with a chuckle. “Anyone who’s anyone would have their own box.”
“Oh.” Mary sat down and humbly folded her hands in her lap. “Wow… the view from here is breathtaking!” She pointed a gloved finger toward the ceiling. “Look at that chandelier. I can’t imagine how horrifying it would be if that thing fell on the audience! I think it’s even larger than the one hanging in His Lordship’s dining room!”
“That chandelier is nothing. There are many things in the world that are much more magnificent than that. I’d take you so many places if I could. I’d take you to castles and palaces. I want to see your eyes light up every day,” he said, “if only you’d let me.”
Mary sighed. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that, Andrew. You’re so confusing.”
Andrew sat beside her and grinned. Confusion was a good sign. It meant her resistance was crumbling. It was a definite improvement over the continuous rebukes she used to give him.
The actors’ arrival on the stage was heralded by thunderous applause from the audience. The first actor sang in such a deep bass, his voice seemed to shake the walls. When Andrew saw the smile on Mary’s face, he couldn’t help but feel pleased with himself. Her smile meant she was happy, surely. Some time during the second act, he reached over and took her hand in his. To his surprise, she didn’t pull it away. She let him hold her hand through the rest of the show, but he wondered if she was too engrossed to care.
Her smile was gone at the opera’s end, replaced by tear-stained cheeks.
He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. “Why are you sad?”
The Fallen Woman (A Regency Romance) Page 18