by Robyn Carr
At last the good lady arrived. Chelynne had gone to great pains with her appearance, hoping to put forth her best. She was in awe of the woman’s regal nature, her coach drawn by eight white horses, footmen, driver and horsemen neatly attired in the red livery of her house. She descended with the flair of any queen and her hair and throat sparkled with jewels. Her velvet gown draped her well-endowed form handsomely, cut low to expose the most beautiful bosom Chelynne thought she had ever seen. Chelynne sighed her appreciation quietly, so intent on this sophisticated creature that she completely missed Chad’s black scowl.
Totally ignoring Chelynne, Lady Graystone extended her hand to Chad. He bowed somewhat stiffly. “Greetings, Gwendolen. Good of you to visit.”
“The ride was a dusty one, my lord,” she said with a laugh. Her eyes went briefly over Chelynne and she gave a little nod. Chelynne wore her admiration openly, her smile warm and her greeting sincere. Gwen almost laughed. Chelynne was grateful for the visit! “Might I have some time to freshen myself before tea?” Gwen asked her hostess.
“Of course. We’re at your disposal. Chad?”
Her husband’s next actions confused her. Lady Graystone was in like afflicted. Chad took his wife’s arm and allowed Gwen to enter ahead of them but without escort. Once inside he beckoned a servant to show Lady Graystone to her rooms, a breach of etiquette digested with some difficulty by both women.
Gwen had little choice but to go with the servant, but the minute she was out of sight Chelynne turned to Chad with a curious frown. “Surely you could act better the host to Lady Graystone, Chad. I hope you haven’t insulted her.”
He grunted. “You worry too much over her, Chelynne. It’s obvious you don’t know her very well.”
“And how could I? We’ve only met once.”
“Well, I’ve known her for a good many years. Let’s see about tea.”
When Gwendolen joined them in the drawing room some time later she was dripping with gossip fresh from the court. Chelynne listened with half an ear. The Duke of Buckingham had killed his mistress’s husband in a duel. Barbara Palmer, the king’s favorite mistress for many years, had fallen far from her post and the most recent slander was that she was paying her lovers. As the news went on Chelynne felt her cheeks pinken more than once, for all the information concerned the various adulteries, aborted plots and questionable births. And she was not accustomed to such descriptive detail.
Chelynne was bemused by two things during the conversation. The first was the fact that Lady Graystone, recently widowed, did not wear black for her husband. The other, that every snippet of conversation was directed completely toward Chad. Chelynne might as well have been invisible.
“And will you be going to London, Chad?” Gwen asked.
“We will. Though I can’t say when. My father is not well.”
“Oh, pity. Where will you be staying?”
Chelynne pricked up her ears, for the trip had not been mentioned to her and she thought perhaps he meant to leave her in the country. “I have a house there, Gwen.”
Gwen stiffened slightly. Now both women were listening attentively.
“When did this come about?” Gwen asked.
Chad smiled a little and answered with ease. “Two years past.”
If he was aware that he had insulted one woman and hurt another, he didn’t show it. The fact of the matter was that Chelynne had been told nothing of a residence in London. Indeed, she was informed of nothing about him but what little bits of information he let fall her way. And Gwen had been his favored mistress in London less than two years ago when he had pleaded no place to take her but a scurvy room atop a tavern in a not very pleasant part of the city. They were both more than anxious to see this house.
Chelynne sat quietly watching her folded hands in her lap, but Gwen seethed. She wanted to hurl herself at the arrogant varlet and scratch that smile off his handsome face. That he should use her like a common harlot! Her words caught in her throat and then suddenly her eyes took on a mischievous gleam as Tanya entered bearing a tray of sweet cakes.
“Why, Chelynne, is this the little wench you’ve taken away from Lord Shayburn?”
From across the room Chelynne could feel Tanya’s shudder at the sound of that man’s name. With a reassuring hand gesture she bade the girl set down her tray. A light pat on the hand and a gentle smile smoothed out the fear and Tanya was sent about her duties.
“Your pardon, my lady,” Chelynne said. “We don’t speak of that around Tanya. The girl was distraught enough with her treatment there.”
“But you’ve done wonders with her, darling. And I was told you lifted her right off the street!” she laughed. “I believe you’ll manage very well for yourself if you can get the best of that man. He’s not an easy one to outwit.”
“I never thought to outwit him, madam. I simply couldn’t leave the girl there in good conscience. She had been abused.”
“She seems to be doing well enough here,” Gwen observed.
“Indeed,” Chad confirmed. “Chelynne has taken a great many pains to help her recover.”
Chelynne wondered where he would even learn of her efforts, being so often absent from the house. But without worrying over that she turned to Gwen. “When did you hear of it?”
She laughed her best embarrassed laugh. “Why, Chad, didn’t you tell your wife that you visited me? Surely she’ll think the worst now.”
“I don’t imagine she’ll think any worse than you intended her to, Gwen,” he muttered.
“Chelynne, your husband and I have known each other for a long time. The truth is we were playmates as children.” With that statement her eyes glittered toward Chad knowingly, advertising to Chelynne that they had not been engaged in children’s games. Then with sincerity so obviously mocked, she continued. “Since my husband’s death there have been some problems with my estate. I do hope you don’t hold it against me, but there was no one I trusted more that I could call upon.”
“Certainly not,” Chelynne returned graciously. “Call upon us whenever there is need.”
Through the rest of the conversation Chelynne longed to be away. Her hands were clammy and she kept them folded in her lap to prevent them from trembling obviously. She smoothed her hair nervously a few times, realizing only after she had done it that the woman opposite her watched her reactions with some amusement. She felt an ache creep through her. She was so far removed from Gwen’s stately airs and the same distance at least from Chad’s affection. She was an alien here, in her own home, and it simply could not be denied.
Finally, able to withstand no more, she begged to be excused to freshen herself for dinner. Chad rose to see her out of the room and she went quickly, never acknowledging him for his courtesy.
Chelynne escaped to her room for quiet, not grooming. So that was how it was, as the earl had explained it to her. That was how noble lords played at their leisure, with whores and mistresses and other men’s wives. By repeating the court gossip Gwen had made it obvious that a man who found no contentment with his wife could be easily taken care of. And her husband, who did not need her, not even for base relief, found his vigor and satisfaction in other beds. Chelynne felt lacking when faced with Gwen. There was nothing she could claim that Gwen did not have more of.
She rested with a closed book in her lap, her eyes shut. To her surprise she heard Chad call to her from the door.
“Madam?” She opened her eyes to look at him. “I thought you were asleep.”
“No, come in.”
“I’ve come to explain—”
“There’s no need,” she replied, looking away from him.
“There is a need or I wouldn’t have come.” That sure, that matter-of-fact voice again. He came not out of guilt or sympathy but to finish business. “There is little I can do to shut that woman’s mouth and I’ve found another course to dealing with her more advantageous. Now, listen to me carefully. Gwen has been about a long time and plays this game well where you d
o not. She was in fact a mistress of mine and is not now.”
“Her manner with you is most familiar—”
“Of course it is, and she would have you think it is intimate as well. She has had a keen eye on this estate for a long time and seeks favor here as more than a mistress. Even if that position were open to her I would not see fit to let her have it. Deal with her as you might, Chelynne, but don’t let yourself be driven into a state of distress with her crudeness for there is no real cause.”
“She doesn’t like me,” Chelynne murmured.
Chad laughed heartily. “She doesn’t like anyone better than herself, my dear. You may be assured that when you are a countess she’ll treat you with more care, if not more kindness. Perhaps this visit was a good idea. You’ll have to learn to cope with others like her when we go to London.”
“I had so longed to see London,” she sighed. “And now...I don’t know...”
“Well, London these days is not a pleasant party. It’s a mess, and you’ll be faced with those who would prefer to spit at you than to treat you with courtesy. But they will be masked, madam.”
“I’m quite willing to stay here,” she offered.
“I’m afraid that’s out of the question. I have business there and much would be thought amiss if you did not accompany me.
“I thought wives often stayed—”
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t consider it. And neither will I be able to coddle you through every tea you attend. Rest now, if you wish, and I’ll see you downstairs for dinner.”
Gwen was the first downstairs. She handed a young maidservant a few coins and thanked her with a sly smile. Her assets were running low but she had no compulsion to be frugal.
She made her way to the drawing room to await the others, and when Chad entered alone she was pleased. He offered her wine and she accepted, taking the glass from his hand with a lingering touch and a sweet smile.
“There’s a great deal of whispering about your halls, Chad,” she said after a long silence.
“Is there now? I don’t doubt it.”
“There are those who say there isn’t much affection between the bride and groom.”
He laughed and took a sip of his drink, cocking an amused brow at her over the top of his glass. “Music to your ears, Gwen?”
“Then it is so? You don’t care for her?”
“Don’t get your hopes up, Gwen. I care for my wife a great deal.”
“But it’s said you don’t darken her door often and when you do you don’t stay long.”
He laughed again, seeming to gain mirth from her comment. “Surely you, of all people, would not doubt my inventiveness.”
Gwen felt as though she had been stuck with a pin. He had certainly changed. Now he was condemning the very thing he once loved about her. There was a time when her sensuality seemed an addicting brew to this man, and now he treated it more as a curse, a joke. She stabbed for a deeper wound. “Some say they doubt the marriage was even consummated.”
He smiled, but eyed her coldly. “That is amusing, Gwen. I, for one, have no doubts whatever about that.”
Gwen was pushed too far. “What farce do you fob off on me? I’ve known you too long to believe that little chit to be the manner of woman to keep you occupied on long winter nights! I could teach the child—”
“I beg to differ,” he broke in. “She is exactly as I would have her.”
“Playing the gallant husband does not suit you, darling,” she sneered.
“Indeed? Playing the harlot suits you perfectly.”
“How dare you!”
“How dare I? By right of conquest, in which I am far from alone.”
“You monster,” she breathed.
“Then you do not desire me any longer? Pity.” Since the day of his wedding he had been called to Gwen’s manor several times. Matters of business were her excuse, but he had barely warmed a chair in her sitting room when her unabashed proposals came. He was not surprised, for he had fully expected that to be her game. What did surprise him was the repugnance he felt. It had been his intention to take advantage of her willingness, if only for convenience’ sake.
But her enticing body did not arouse him. He found himself increasingly preoccupied with other thoughts, something of a smaller stature, full and fresh, the untouched maiden that he housed.
“Chad,” Gwen sighed. “I’ve not come to quarrel with you. After all we’ve been to each other—”
“The thing between us is over, Gwen. And every word that leaves your mouth takes you farther from friendship here. That wheedle won’t pass with me. I am nothing to you that a dozen other men haven’t been and troubling my wife with your improper insinuations is taking a grave chance. I think you understand me.”
“You will never understand—”
“You’re wrong about that, my dear. I understand you perfectly.”
Gwen rose, and swayed about the room uneasily, feeling she was knuckling under to this child who played at being a woman. Nearly thirty years now, at a time when youth was by far the most admirable feature a woman could claim, she was forced to compete with this little girl. She figured quickly in her mind. She remembered many years ago to a time when she was but a child on her father’s lands. She had sought out the pleasures of a man’s body so early in her youth that she could almost have borne a child who would now be the age of her lover’s wife! A shudder of fear and revulsion shot through her and she turned on Chad with green eyes flashing.
“It is her youth!”
Chad smiled lazily, knowing that jealousy smarted sharply in Gwen’s heart. His answer came in a warm, sensual breath. “Yes, there is precious little of that around.”
“You seem to have a taste for children,” she sneered. “Mayhaps when she’s aged you’ll throw her down and seek out the cradle for yet another.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
She laughed wickedly. “You’ve gone to such pains to keep your affairs secret, but do you really believe it has been so? I’ve heard tales of your wenching. The stories go a long way back. I even know about the smithy’s brat you eased yourself on. Some say there was a child—”
“Shut your mouth,” he snapped,” lest you spill something you regret.”
Her laughter was loud and vicious. So finally she had hit a raw nerve! He was smitten with the wench; she hadn’t thought it possible. “Aha! Do tales of your bastards bring you pain, my lord?” she simpered. “We’ve had a mighty hard time finding out what’s yours, you play the ladies so sparingly, in this country at least. But tell your dear friend, darling, how many little bastards of yours are running around the—”
She was caught up in arms with an iron grip. His face was so close to hers that she could feel his breath in her half-open mouth. She had never been so afraid of him as she was at this moment.
“I have no bastards, Gwen. And since I’ve had done with you I have no whore. Take care that I don’t hear absurdities from you or I promise you...you’ll regret it.”
The drawing room doors stood open and there in their frame was a small figure in swirling skirts. Chelynne hesitated, arms out and palms turned up as if in embarrassed apology, watching their close embrace. “I...I’m sorry,” she stammered. Chad released Gwen so abruptly she almost fell to the floor. He started toward his wife, but with a strangled cry she fled up the stairs.
All the way up the stairs Chelynne thought wildly: apologizing to my husband for seeing him in another woman’s arms in my own house. Heaven above! She found her room and with a shriek she slammed the door. Stella came running to see what so upset her mistress and found Chelynne pacing angrily to and fro about the room.
Here I play the well-trained wife, she silently raged. Watching my husband from the greatest distance, seeing to his comfort as he would allow it, playing the perfect hostess to his friends, even his mistress, begging the slightest kiss as reward while he beds that whore beneath my nose! And loving him! Wanting him! Willing to wait for h
is good favors to turn to me! Ha! How could he ever need me when the wenches are groveling at his feet and displaying their treasures? How could he desire me when every noble dame seeks to bring him ease? Fool of fools, playing the game and biding my time!
The door to her bedroom opened and Chad strode in, an angry frown on his handsome face. He pointed a finger to Stella, who shifted from foot to foot, uneasy with this fury that seemed to have gripped them both. “Out!” he commanded. The old woman fled, twisting her hands nervously.
Chelynne faced him boldly. “Have you come to explain once again, my lord?”
“I need not explain myself to you. Calm down and listen to me. Gwen seeks only to shake your confidence. Do not judge me on what you perchance see, for you do not know the circumstances.”
“Pray tell me what I need to know of circumstances that find you clutching her body so closely. Did she perhaps faint?”
“Twas in anger I held her, not passion!”
“Tell me then what I must do to anger you to that point! Tell me what hateful sin I must commit to find myself in my husband’s arms! You must think me a shallow-witted fool!”
“Not shallow-witted, but narrow-minded for certain.”
“Get out!”
His face was a stony surface of utter rage. “You do not order me here,” he said slowly. “Now freshen yourself and cool your temper so you might play the hostess.”
“On my word, you expect me to play hostess to your whore?”
“Chelynne,” he warned.
“Nay! I’ll not coddle that bitch and welcome her into my home to sit and watch as she fondles my husband! Seek out another fool to play your games!”
“You will do as I say!”
“I will not let you shame me to that end!” Angry tears streaked down her cheeks. “You may play your affections on any ready slut while I sit in patient exile and wait for you to come to me in all good time, but I’ll not help your cause! Tell me, my lord, is my lady Graystone one of your little problems on which my exile is bent?”