"Who are you?" Hagan's curiosity immediately registered in his eyes.
"I'm your sister's maid."
"Huh?"
"Sorry, Rebecca, but everythin' has tae be explained tae my brother." Kristen turned to Hagan. "She's going to help me with my clothes and hair and accompany me when I go places. She's called a lady's maid."
"You mean help you get dressed like you used to help me?" He giggled, truly enjoying himself.
"That's right." Kristen said and waited for the next why.
"Why?"
"Hagan!" Her smiled faded replaced with a frown. "Ye'd drive a person tae drink with ye infernal questions, but ye answer is because that's the way things are done."
"I hate it when you change your voice like that." He was crestfallen, his smile faded for just a moment.
"Sometimes 'tis the only way tae get through tae ye."
Hagan stared at her a moment then grinned. "If you need help, Kristen, you need help . . . nothing to be ashamed of." At that he ran for the door and was gone before she could catch him.
Kristen looked at a laughing Rebecca. "Do ye have brothers?"
"Afraid so." She nodded and held up two fingers. "Two of them."
"Yer poor, lass. I feel sorry for ye."
They both laughed, then proceeded downstairs, prepared for the day's adventure.
Chapter Three
Outside the three-storied, brick town house, a carriage drawn by two black horses stood motionless while a footman held the horses' bridles. The sleek black carriage wasn't as fancy as some Kristen had seen. Perhaps, it was a clue to the mysterious Duke's personality, she thought. So far she hadn't found Trevor Claremont a man to flaunt his wealth, but she knew absolutely nothing else about him. What was he really like? Then again what difference did it really make? She probably wouldn't be with him that long. She thought of this arrangement as a temporary condition . . . one that would keep her out of jail.
A young, but somber, footman held the door open, his other hand extended to assist her into the carriage. Once inside, she found lush wine-colored cushions and drapes secured with gold cords at each window. The inside was much fancier than the outside. She wondered where the others were, but she didn't have long to wait for her answer.
Claremont entered and settled next to her. Next Hagan and Rebecca made an appearance and sat across from them.
When the door was closed. The carriage moved forward, and Kristen found the ride very smooth. She pulled back the curtain, so she could see outside, marveling at the world as it passed. People walked down the sidewalks as if they had naught a care in the world. The women's elaborate hats probably cost more than she'd seen in a life time. They rode through Hyde Park passing several stylish carriages.
Here no one darted across the street, trying to find hiding places in fear of his life. No one lounged in a doorway, sleeping off last night's supper of whiskey. And no one looked hungry or cold. These people were so far removed from the “real” world. Kristen sighed. Could she somehow forget the place she'd come from? At the moment, she didn't have an answer to her question. She doubted she could ever forget some of the things she'd witnessed.
Hagan talked non-stop and Rebecca patiently answered all his "whys." The funny thing was how fast Hagan had adapted to their new situation. Maybe because he was so young, he would be able to put the past behind him.
"You're very quiet, Kristen," Trevor said. He leaned over and whispered, "Is something bothering you?"
His whispered question felt like a feather on the back of her neck, and she jumped as a chill ran over her. What was the matter with her? She couldn't let this man affect her this way. She barely knew him. Yet the minute he touched or looked at her, she couldn't seem to think straight.
Pulling back from the window, she looked at Trevor. "It's just that--" She searched for the right words and hesitated when she saw his intense stare, as if he were truly worried about her. She wanted to reach out and touch his cheek, but knew she shouldn't. "I've never ridden in a carriage before."
Trevor smiled. When she stared at him again with that wide-eyed look, he saw her rare beauty. She'd bring any man to his knees. When she let down that guard of hers, the one she used so effectively to protect herself, she became a child-woman, and the combination fascinated him.
Kristen was as fresh as a sunny morning, not corrupted by the ton like so many of the others he'd known. Things he took for granted, she thought of as luxury. Had he grown so distant from the things around him that he'd truly become as cynical as the rest? Had he learned to accept all the things he despised about the ton? God, he hoped not. Maybe that was another reason he needed Kristen.
"I hope this will be the first of many things I will show you," he said as he leaned over so only she could hear. Her answering blush only heightened his desire and pleasure.
"I will escort you to Grafton House, and Rebecca will stay to assist you while I take Master Hagan to another shop for men."
"Us men have to have our own place." Hagan grinned at his sister. "We don't need that girl stuff."
Kristen reached over and patted Hagan on the knee. "Ye have a little growin' tae do, young man, so ye mind yer manners."
"Ah, Kristen."
The sleek carriage came to a halt in front of a small linen-draper's shop that didn't look very important at all. As they disembarked, two elegant ladies dressed in fancy velvets and silk were emerging from Grafton House, but they stopped suddenly when they saw Trevor step from the carriage.
"Your Grace." They both curtsied. One of the ladies tapped him on the arm. "It is so nice to have you back in town. You have been very naughty by ignoring us for so long," the younger lady said as she batted her eyes flirtatiously.
Kristen watched through the carriage window. The other girl had the same coloring, and it was evident she was daughter of the grand lady. She smiled at Trevor. "Are you attending the Cranford bash? Everyone’s bound to be there." She giggled nervously.
Since Trevor was occupied with the two women, the footman helped everyone else from the carriage and they started for the door of the small shop.
"I haven't made plans yet, ladies. It was good to see you." Trevor nodded, dismissing them both as if they were pesky flies. "If you'll excuse me."
He opened the shop door for Rebecca and Hagan who entered the place, followed by Kristen, but not before she turned and said, "How can ye miss such a lovely invitation?" She batted her eyes as she'd seen the other lady do. Trevor gave her a smile that sent her pulse racing as he gently pushed her through the door.
"Who's Cranford going to hit?" Hagan whispered behind his hand to Trevor.
Trevor chuckled. "In this instance it doesn't mean hit. Bash means a party."
Hagan digested the information. "Really? Can I go?"
"May I," Trevor corrected automatically. "Afraid not. It's only for your elders."
Kristen smiled at the patience that Claremont displayed with her brother. He would probably make a good father someday. Then she shook that notion right out of her head. She didn't want to be attracted to this man. How many times did she have to remind herself? She needed to keep her wits about her, so when it came time for her and Hagan to leave, she could do so without any regrets. A marriage could not survive without love.
A lady appeared from the back. Her blonde hair was streaked with strands of white and pulled up high into a chignon. Her Teray velvet dress was a rich brown with a standing collar.
"Your Grace, what a pleasure to have you once again in my shop. Word was sent that I am to be clothing your fiancée. Will she be coming shortly? I see she has sent her maids ahead."
"Rubbish." Kristen started for the door, but Trevor caught her by the elbow and brought her next to him. She thought about jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow, but he must have expected such a move, and held her firmly within his grasp.
"You are mistaken, Madam Marie." His brow raised. "This is Lady Kristen, my future wife."
Kristen watched t
he woman's face flush the color of a ripe apple, but she didn't question him. At the moment, she seemed at a loss for the right word.
"And I'm Master Hagan."
"As I was saying . . ." Trevor cut his eyes at Hagan with a warning. "Kristen is in need of a complete wardrobe as hers has been stolen. Plus the few lessons that I spoke to you about earlier. Kristen was raised in a convent and has been shut away from society."
Kristen looked sharply at Trevor. The man was daft!
"What's a convent?" Hagan chimed in.
"Not now, Hagan," Trevor warned.
Marie walked about Kristen with her hand propped beneath her chin as she studied every inch of the girl. "She has very unusual coloring, but if I pick just the right colors and accessories, you'll not recognize your future bride upon your return."
"I truly doubt that," he observed.
"Then let's say, I'll make her so lovely you will not be able to take your eyes off her."
Trevor chuckled. "I would know Kristen across any room." And, he realized, what he said was true. In just this short time, he couldn't imagine not ever seeing her. And it frightened him to admit the fact. "Then, I shall leave her in your capable hands. When shall I return?"
"We have much to do." Madam Marie clicked her tongue and tapped her chin and considered. "I should think late in the afternoon," she said finally. She searched the pockets of her skirt. "Oh, dear. I seem to have misplaced my timepiece." Her brows drew together in puzzlement. "A moment please while I check the back." She scurried through the curtains.
Trevor looked at Kristen. She stared back at him with those guilty green eyes, never once batting her pretty eyelashes. "Rebecca, please escort Hagan to the carriage, and I will follow in just a moment."
When the door had shut, he simply turned to Kristen and held out his hand, a stern expression on his face.
"What?" She looked at him, trying to look puzzled but failing miserably.
He took her arm and pulled her to the side. Again he held out his hand, more insistently this time. Kristen sighed. Reluctantly, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the missing watch and unwillingly placed it in the palm of his hand.
"You promised," he whispered with a vague hint of disapproval.
" 'Tis hard."
"Well, try." Trevor slipped the watch back onto the table, easing it under some papers just in the nick of time before Marie came through the curtains.
"I just don't know--I'm not usually so absentminded." She fumbled with the papers on her desk. "Here it is! I must apologize, Your Grace, perhaps I'm getting feeble-minded in my old age."
Trevor looked at Kristen and, at least, she did have the grace to blush. Perhaps, it was a small sign that she might have some kind of conscience. "We all misplace things, Madam Marie. I believe Kristen can attest to losing a few things herself."
"At least once," Kristen murmured.
"However, she is much better at finding things," Trevor teased.
"I'll keep that in mind." Madam Marie laughed. "Your Grace, you seem so different from the man who came to see me six months ago. Could it be love?"
Trevor stared at her, but didn't bother to respond.
Marie rushed on. "For a complete trousseau, I'm afraid, we will not be finished until five, and it will be quite expensive."
"Spare no expense." He moved over and kissed Kristen on the cheek, surprising himself at how natural it felt. "I'll pick you up sharply at five." He opened the door and Rebecca came in as he was leaving.
"Goodbye," Kristen said as she touched her cheek. She hadn't expected the small display of affection. She figured he'd be angry at her for swiping the watch. The man surely puzzled her, and she wondered if there was more to this marriage than he let on. No matter, 'twas better than being in the streets.
"This way, madam." Marie pulled the curtains back as Kristen and Rebecca followed to the back. "Is there a particular color that you like?"
"Color? I should like something truly different. Perhaps a lavender."
"I agree. Would go nicely with your complexion. I can also see you in russets, reds, golds and rich greens," the older woman commented.
"I think an apple-green would look pretty on Kristen, too," Rebecca voiced her opinion.
"Then I should like a green dress, too." Kristen smiled at her maid. "Please help me decide and choose wisely."
The next few hours became a blur of satins, laces, gauze and Indian muslins. There were buttons to choose and shoes and hats, and some of the softest fabrics she'd ever felt for undergarments. Kristen had never been pinched and prodded so much in her entire life, and she soon tired of all the fuss.
Every time a new material was wrapped about Kristen, Madam Marie exclaimed, "Oui, you are lovely. His Grace won't be able to take his eyes off you--not that he could when he was here earlier."
"Really?"
"Oui, I could see he is quite taken with you."
Kristen thought the lady was just imagining what she saw because Trevor didn't care for her in any way other than for his own purposes. Theirs was a business agreement--nothing more.
She stared at herself in the mirror. She couldn't believe how differently she looked when she finally dressed in the gown that had been made last night for her. Evidently the seamstress had been up all night sewing.
The pelisse was of silk; its color a light shade of marguerite. The collar stood up to allow a white ruffle, and down the front, rich satin of the same hue ran down the middle in a swirling design.
Rebecca insisted Kristen's hair must be done to go with her new outfit. She pulled Kristen's hair up and twisted and fastened the long curls at the crown.
After Kristen dressed, she sat at a table with Marie who began drilling the etiquette of the ton into Kristen's head. There were too many forks and too many glasses. They went over it again and again, and surprisingly, Kristen learned very quickly. It was like a game to her, and she was a master of games . . . a lesson she'd learned early in life.
Kristen felt almost like a lady, and she smiled under Madam Marie's praise. It was amazing how new clothes could make her feel so differently, even though she knew she was the same person.
They finished a little earlier than expected so they were escorted to the front lounge to wait until Trevor came to pick them up.
"If you ladies will make yourselves comfortable, I need to give the seamstresses instructions, so you'll have your gowns in a few days. You're a very lucky lady."
"I know," Kristen agreed. "Thank you for all your help." She squeezed Marie's hand, deciding she liked the dressmaker.
Rebecca automatically relaxed upon the green velvet settee, but Kristen couldn't sit still. She paced, then she stopped, stared out the window, and then began to pace again. She wasn't sure if what she was about to do was very smart, but she was going to do it anyway, and now was the perfect time before she changed her mind. She tugged at the neck of her gown, not use to wearing such a confining garment.
"Listen, Rebecca. Where I used to live isn't far from here." Kristen's mind was working overtime again. She could do this. She needed to.
"I don't recall any abbeys around here."
Kristen recalled Trevor's lie. "I'll explain about that later. I need to get a few things I cherish before they're stolen."
"But mum, it's after two," Rebecca said.
Kristen started at her maid a little dumbfounded. "What does the hour have to do with anything?"
"Ladies are not usually seen after two o'clock around here. They don't wish to be thought of as fast."
Kristen laughed at the absurdity. If Rebecca only knew that she'd been on the streets at every hour of the day, Rebecca would probably turn several shades of red. "I will not bump into anyone, so dinna fret."
Rebecca hesitated, blinking with surprise. "I'm sure His Grace will take you there, mum."
"No." Kristen shook her head. "Ye don't comprehend. Where I came from 'tisn't very nice, and I dinna want Trevor tae go there. 'Tis bad enough he knows where
I came from, but seeing the actual place is a different story." She bent down and picked up her empty purse. "If I hurry, I can get everything I need and be back here before Claremont returns. Ye'll have tae stall him if he happens tae return early, but I'm sure he won't."
"No, mum! You can't go out alone." Rebecca got up with the intentions of going, too. "His Grace will have a royal fit."
"Rebecca, ye don't understand." Kristen grabbed the girl's arms. "I've been alone for years. One more time isn't going tae hurt. I'm only dressed differently, but I am the same person I was yesterday and the day before." Kristen dropped her hands and smoothed her dress. "Now, ye stay here and stall His Worship in case he takes a notion tae return early."
"But, mum."
That was all Kristen heard. She shut the door and hurried down the street. he knew these alleys like the back of her hand, but she felt different walking the streets this time and very much alone. Her heels clicking on the sidewalk sounded like a drum in her head.
A gentleman passing her doffed his hat, and she smiled, resisting the urge to see how much he had in his pocket.
It would be hard to mend her ways, but she'd try a little for Trevor's sake. However, she wasn't a fool. She'd be sure to fix a little nest egg for herself and Hagan.
She turned left at the corner and then a right and finally she saw her old grimy neighborhood--just the way she'd left it. Her stomach clenched tight. Some things would never change.
A wave of apprehension swept through Kristen, but she'd come this far and now wasn't the time to turn into a coward. Besides, it wasn't anything but a house--one she didn't have to stay in any more.
Wasting little time, she entered the shack that she'd called home for as long as she could remember. She shivered the minute she was inside. Funny, she hadn't thought of the place as being dumpy when it was all she had. Now it looked small and dirty, and Kristen realized she was thankful to be out of the place even if it might only be for a little while. Trevor had truly rescued her.
There wasn't time to stand around. She needed to get out of here. A brown box sat in one corner of the room, and Kristen went directly over to it. She searched through the wooden box until she found her mother's silver brush and mirror. Picking up the cold metal objects, she sat them aside. They were too large for her purse. Then she looked for the old can where she'd stashed a few pounds for when she was in dire straits.
03 - The Wicked Lady Page 4