by Lauren Smith
“Yes. I had tiny, quick feet back then.” She giggled. “Henry came down from London that year, and we danced at his father’s Christmas ball. He told me years later that he never regretted dancing with only me that night, though his parents were quite scandalized.”
Gillian caught a glimpse of the lovely young woman James’s mother had once been. That made her illness only more heartbreaking. She seemed like a wonderful woman, and knowing that the person she used to be was slowly fading away broke Gillian’s heart.
“Is James a good dancer?” Gillian asked.
“James?” Lady Pembroke asked, her brows knit in confusion.
“Yes, your son.”
“But I don’t have a son. I’ve only been married a year.” The older woman was now frowning at her, her hands wildly tugging at her shawl in her lap, fraying the fabric’s cloth ends. “But James is a lovely name…”
“Lady Pembroke, let me serve you some tea.” Dr. Wilkes was there in an instant, soothing her and placing a cup of tea in her hands.
“I should be going,” Gillian said. “I’m sorry I upset her.”
Dr. Wilkes shook his head. “Nonsense. You did very well. There’s not many young ladies who would have tolerated the situation as you have.”
“Tolerate? She needs compassion,” Gillian said, taken aback that anyone would be upset with the older woman.
Dr. Wilkes nodded. “That she does, but most ladies your age don’t know how to cope with caring for someone in Lady Pembroke’s condition. For most people, it reminds them far too much of their own mortality and it isn’t easy to face.”
“Oh, that’s…that’s awful. She so very sweet.”
“Isn’t she?” The doctor patted Lady Pembroke’s shoulders as the woman drank her tea and gazed out at the gardens. Gillian sincerely hoped that somewhere deep inside, Lady Pembroke had some memories, ones that she could always fall into even for the briefest of moments inside her own head.
“Thank you, Dr. Wilkes, for seeing to me last night.”
“Of course. I was happy to. Does his lordship know you are leaving? I thought you both might have some breakfast with Miss Fordyce and myself shortly.”
“No!” Gillian gasped, then calmed. “I mean no, he was still sleeping. I didn’t want to bother him, and given the scandalous nature of my arrival, I’m not certain I could face Miss Fordyce over breakfast.” Letty, James’s sister, was wonderful, but she was also protective of her older brother and had made it quite clear that she didn’t want ladies with ill intent breaking her brother’s heart. Those sentiments were understandable and very noble. James deserved a wife who would love to care not just for him, but his family. In another life, Gillian would’ve given anything to be that person, but James could not marry the bastard daughter of an earl, at least not one working as a servant.
“Good day, Dr. Wilkes.” She kissed the doctor on the cheek, feeling grateful for everything he’d done. The man blushed and bid her farewell before he returned to Lady Pembroke’s side.
As Gillian left the house, the sun finally rose over the tops of the other houses, painting the streets with pale morning light. Coaches were beginning to rumble along the cobblestones, and soon people would be taking early walks. Gillian waved down a coach and took one last look back at James’s home. Then she bid goodbye to her dreams once and for all.
She was gone. When James woke a few hours after dawn, the realization had been like a knife to his chest. The woman he’d shared the most intimate night with had abandoned him. Rather than James running out like a heartless rogue, she was the one who had fled. It was as though the world had turned upside down on him.
James hunched over on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor where his clothes lay in a crumpled heap. He was completely naked, which wasn’t unusual, but for once he felt exposed. He’d never taken mistresses, had only bedded one other woman in his life before last night, but damned if he didn’t feel as though he had lost his virginity rather than Gillian losing hers.
“My lord?” Dr. Wilkes’s voice came through the closed door.
“Yes, Dr. Wilkes. Give me a moment.” He scrambled out of bed and hastily threw on his clothes. When he opened the door, Dr. Wilkes was standing there, frowning.
“I wished to check on you. It’s not like you to—” Dr. Wilkes’s eyes strayed to the bed and the blood spotting that James had forgotten to cover in his haste to answer the door.
Damn, the man would surely know what had happened.
Dr. Wilkes cleared his throat. “Miss Beaumont has left. When you missed breakfast, I grew worried.” Dr. Wilkes, ever the professional, did not mention what he clearly understood had happened last night.
“Is there any food left?” he asked.
“The cook kept a few kippers, herring, and eggs in some chafing dishes on the sideboard. They should still be hot.”
“Thank you.” James knew he should wash and dress in fresh clothes, but his stomach ached. He hadn’t had much in the way of dinner before he’d gone off to Coventry’s Wicked Earls’ Club.
“How is my mother today?” he asked as the doctor kept pace with him.
“Well enough. Miss Beaumont had the opportunity to meet your mother while I examined her wound before she left.”
James froze. Gillian had met his mother? No wonder she had fled the house. Being compassionate with words was easier than being compassionate by deed. No doubt she’d been overwhelmed by his mother’s deteriorating condition and fled.
“Was Miss Beaumont very unsettled by my mother?” He tried to keep emotion out of his voice.
“Not at all.” Dr. Wilkes and James descended the stairs and headed to the drawing room. “She had a pleasant conversation with her and got her to talk much more than I’ve been able to in days.”
James’s heart gave a little start. It was not what he had expected to hear.
“Truly? She was talking to Gillian?”
The doctor eyed him for a moment, perhaps noting that he’d called Gillian by her first name, then answered. “Yes, she spoke about your father and how they met. Always a charming story.” Dr. Wilkes’s eyes were soft, and it made James proud that he’d found one of the few physicians in London who didn’t let science alone rule his head. It was the reason James had hired him. He needed a man who had a heart to care for his mother.
“And Gillian, how is she? I didn’t get to see her before she left this morning.”
“She seems fine. That woman has a strong, sturdy skull, thank heavens.”
As he and Dr. Wilkes entered into the dining room, James collected a plate and helped himself to kippers and eggs and coffee before he took a seat facing the gardens. Dr. Wilkes walked to the window and stared at the view.
“Is my mother resting?” James asked.
“Yes.” The doctor turned toward James, still frowning. “My lord, she’s beginning to lose control of her limbs, and she’s been trying to walk about without the servants to watch for her. I’m worried that if she falls, we won’t…” The man’s words faded into the silence of the room.
James set his fork down, his stomach knotting painfully. “What do you propose we do?”
The heavy solemnity of the doctor’s voice terrified James. “We should think about moving her to the Pembroke estate. I know you wish to stay close to her, but she will need to live in a place without stairs. The manor house has rooms on the first floor.”
Dr. Wilkes was right. The estate would be better for her with fewer stairs, but that would mean he would not see her as often. Much of his family’s investments kept him busy in London. He thought it over for a long moment. His mother had made so many sacrifices, as all mothers do, and losing their father had been the hardest on her. James wanted to do what was best for her. He owed her the best care for her steadfast love for him and Letty all these years, despite her illness. His throat tightened as he met Dr. Wilkes’s eyes.
“Go ahead and make the necessary preparations. I shall arrange things here so that I
can retire to the country for the rest of the Season.”
Dr. Wilkes pulled out a chair, sat, and cleared his throat.
“May I be frank with you, my lord?”
“Of course. You may always speak honestly,” James assured him. He had employed the doctor five years ago, and in that time, he’d grown to see the man as a friend.
“I admire the nobility of your heart, of wanting to stay with her even when her world is growing dark inside her mind.” Dr. Wilkes’s voice roughened, and he paused as if he needed a moment to master his emotions. “But you risk losing yourself, my lord. Your own life is frozen, but the rest of the world is moving on without you. You deserve a life too, one of joy, of marriage and children. Your mother would not want you to be without your own life for the sake of hers.” Dr. Wilkes looked away as he finished, his face red with embarrassment.
For a moment, James pondered his friend’s words. It was true. He wanted a life. He had let his fears for his mother trap him in a place where he’d become afraid to move forward. But he couldn’t simply send her off to become someone else’s concern.
Dr. Wilkes spoke up. “I daresay that the change of environment might even help her condition in some manner. I assure you I will do all that is required to keep her mind active. And when time allows, then you should join her. But not before.”
“I—you may be right. I will stay in London, then, but if she needs me for anything, you must send for me at once.”
“Of course,” Dr. Wilkes vowed.
James’s mind was flooded with the chaotic panic of sending his mother away mixed with the fear he’d never see Gillian again. Dr. Wilkes was right. He had to move forward, had to find happiness, and that meant finding Gillian Beaumont. He was going to start by heading to Viscount Sheridan’s townhouse and seek her out there. Audrey Sheridan had to know where Gillian was.
He left the dining room and walked to his study, where he kept the most up-to-date copy of Debrett’s. He searched page by page, looking for the name Beaumont. If she was connected to any peer, she would be here. With a little cry of triumph, he found the Beaumont name and then frowned. The Earl of Morrey was named Adam Beaumont, and he had one sister, Caroline, just as Wainthorpe had told him.
Perhaps Gillian was a distant cousin? Someone not titled and only distantly related? She would not be included in Debrett’s if that was the case. He closed the book and slipped it back in between other gilded titles, then headed for his chambers. In a few hours, he would pay a call on Audrey Sheridan.
Or perhaps he should say, Lady Society.
“I think you’ve gone mad,” Gillian informed her mistress.
Audrey lay on her stomach on the bed, penning her next column for the Quizzing Glass Gazette. A sleek black cat pawed at the quill pen each time Audrey frowned and crossed a line and rewrote something in its place.
“Hmm?” Audrey murmured, clearly not listening.
Gillian rolled her eyes. She folded the red silk gown Audrey had worn the previous night, though it was perhaps beyond repair. It was tattered, and its stitching was ripped in a few places, no doubt caused when Audrey had scaled the window.
“I said I think you’ve gone mad, my lady.”
Audrey’s eyes flicked up from the paper, and she stared at Gillian.
“Mad because I’m writing an exposé on the Unholy Sinners of Hell, or mad that I brought home Archimedes?” She glanced toward the handsome black cat on the bed beside her.
“Both, I should think.” Gillian stared at the black cat. The Unholy Sinners had claimed he was the devil. Gillian was not fool enough to believe such nonsense, but the cat had an eerie way of watching her. She could feel its gaze when she turned her back.
“Nonsense. We unmasked nearly all the men during the fight last night, and it’s time we let the ton know who among them are not in fact gentlemen.”
Gillian grunted in disagreement. “And what does Mittens think of Archimedes?”
“Mittens? Oh, she sulked a bit at first, but I believe she’ll come around.” Audrey eyed the cat critically. “He’s a bit like Muff, don’t you think?”
“Muff looked sweet,” Gillian said, thinking of Mittens’s littermate. The two ancient cats had been in the household since they were kittens. They had become a welcome presence over the years, but last fall someone had killed Muff as a message, to hurt and warn Audrey’s brother. After Muff’s death, Mittens had wandered around the house, crying for him to come back. She’d finally given up and settled back into her old routines, but she hadn’t been the same.
“Archimedes is sweet,” Audrey said.
“I highly doubt that,” Gillian replied as she picked up Audrey’s boots and set them in the hall. Sean would collect them soon, and they would be polished.
“Why did you name him Archimedes? I should think Lucifer would be more appropriate.”
Audrey leaned over and covered the cat’s ears, as though muffling anything he might hear.
“Just because he was presiding over a devil’s feast doesn’t mean he’s a wicked cat. He might’ve been lured there as we were, under false pretenses.”
At this Gillian couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Lured under false pretenses? He’s a cat. They probably snatched him from some alley in the street.”
“Nonsense.” Audrey sat up and cuddled the feline to her chest, nuzzling her face against his fur. “Cats never go anywhere they don’t choose to. During the fight, he attacked one of the men, Lord Augersley, before I grabbed him from the table. Yet he didn’t fight me at all, did you?” Audrey asked the cat. The cat blinked.
“Good Lord.” Gillian groaned and headed for the door. She had no desire to listen to Audrey sing the praises of a devil cat.
Even I have limitations as to what I can endure.
“Are we really not going to talk about it?” Audrey’s soft tone stilled Gillian as she reached the door. Her hand rested on the brass handle, and she drew in a slow breath.
She closed hers eyes a moment and prayed her mistress would not ask her about James. “About?”
“Last night. Jonathan brought me home, but you didn’t come back until early this morning. The messenger who brought the note said you’d been injured and that James had taken you to his townhouse.”
Gillian flinched when she recalled Lord Pembroke’s note to the Sheridan house.
“Gillian,” Audrey said even more gently. “I know you have a tendre for him. It’s not something to be ashamed of.”
“Isn’t it?” The words felt acidic on her tongue as she faced Audrey. “I’m not now and never will be suitable for someone like him. I’m a maid, my lady. He is an earl. I’d be lucky to be his mistress.”
“James has never taken any mistresses. None that I know of, anyway. And don’t forget who I am.” Audrey waved her quill as she slid off her bed and shooed Archimedes away from her letter. Gillian swore she saw the cat reading the paper. That was how badly she knew she’d struck her head. Cats did not read.
“Gilly, we must talk about you and James.”
“Having or not having mistresses is beside the point. He and I could never—” She shut her mouth, hating that her eyes were suddenly beginning to water.
Audrey walked over and gently embraced Gillian in a hug. Then Gillian burst fully into tears.
“Have a good cry. I always feel better afterward. Men simply don’t understand the power of a good cry.”
Gillian sniffed and let out a worried giggle. “There are far too many things men don’t understand.”
“That is certainly the truth.” Audrey chuckled and let go of Gillian, but her face sobered again. “Let me ask you something, and I want an honest answer, even if it pains you greatly.”
Gillian nodded. There wasn’t much she wouldn’t do for Audrey. Their loyalty to each other was almost like that of sisters.
“If you were a lady and James was an ordinary gentleman and there was no issue of risk of social standing and such nonsense, would you want to be with him?�
�
Gillian fought the instant denial and the need to hide her feelings and emotions. As the illegitimate daughter of a peer, she’d learned quickly that her feelings and thoughts would only lead to sorrow. But Audrey had demanded honesty, and she had promised to give it.
“Yes.”
Audrey’s eyes twinkled. “That’s all I needed to hear.” She spun, her pink gown fluttering as she sat back down on the bed and reached for her Lady Society column.
“You aren’t planning on interfering?” Gillian tried to phrase the question carefully, but it still sounded accusatory.
“Interfere? Heavens no.” Audrey sighed as she read over the paper. Then stopped. “I simply needed to know where you stand so that I might best deal with this matter should it come up in the future. I understand your fears. Loath though I am to say it, an earl and a lady’s maid would be quite an impossible situation. But I do not wish to see hearts broken, either. So forewarned is forearmed, as they say. Rest assured, I will deal with the matter appropriately should it ever come up.”
Gillian didn’t trust that statement in the slightest. “Interference” might as well have been Audrey’s second name rather than Helen, the one her parents had given her.
“Why do I not believe that?” Gillian muttered under her breath.
“You look a bit peaky, dear. Why don’t you go down to the kitchens, have a little rest and some tea. I’ll be here working on my article, and I won’t need you.” Audrey wasn’t looking at her now, but Gillian knew her mistress’s quick dismissal meant she was up to something. Gillian debated on staying to supervise her mistress, but she finally relented.
“Very well.” She left the bedchamber and met Sean in the hall as he picked up the boots she’d set out to polish earlier.
“I’m fetching tea and a bit of rest. Would you mind watching over her?”
The handsome footman grinned. “Up to her old tricks, is she?”
“Afraid so. She knows I’m cross with her for running off last night to that dreadful club. She wasn’t supposed to go, especially not alone.”
“Aye, she’s a reckless lass.” Sean’s Irish accent always softened his criticisms. The two liked each other very much, and Gillian knew he was worried about Audrey. Just as he worried about Gillian. Sean was the elder brother she’d never had.