by Diane Gaston
Her breath caught.
How handsome he looked!
She remembered her first glimpse of him the night before, on the stairway behind her. He’d looked rakish with his beard shadowing his face and his brown hair tousled as if he’d just come in from a windy day. She had steeled herself to see him in London—how could she not see him when he was the close friend of Genna’s husband?—but she’d been totally unprepared to run into him at this inn in Cambridgeshire.
It had been quite the loveliest dinner she’d ever had, spending so much time with him. Every now and then during the dinner it would strike her that she was with Dell and without a care. They would never have another chance like that one. Walking in the moonlight with him had been magical, almost like her youthful romantic dreams, the ones she used to have before she married.
Her romantic notions must have been running amok, because afterward she even fancied he’d been about to kiss her. Now she was certain she’d been imagining things.
He rode away without having made any effort to say goodbye.
The snub pained her.
Chapter Eight
Lorene’s first days back in London kept her so busy that she had little time to think about Dell and the lovely interlude they’d shared at the inn in Cambridgeshire. She’d spent two Seasons in London in the past, but those had been under the thumb of her husband. She knew very little of how to conduct business in town. Goodness, Tinmore would hardly allow her to even hear the word business. No lady involved herself in such matters.
She asked for assistance from Genna’s husband. Lord Rossdale helped her find a man of business to act on her behalf. Mr Jeremy Walters, son of Ross’s father’s man of business, was eager to do whatever she needed. He helped her hire more servants to put the house in order and engaged a property agent to facilitate the sale of the house. With any luck she would be out of London in a month.
* * *
This morning her sisters had convinced her to go with them to the modiste to order new dresses. New gowns were a must because Easter, having come early this year, was past and now society’s entertainments would begin in earnest.
Not that Lorene had any intention of attending society events. Her old clothes would have done well enough, but the modiste was Tess’s former lady’s maid and Lorene wanted to see her more for a visit than for new dresses.
While there Tess and Genna had convinced her to order a few gowns and to stop at other shops for new hats, gloves, and shoes.
After their shopping expedition the three sisters returned to Lorene’s town house.
Mr Walters met them in the hall as the footman was collecting their packages, hats and wraps. ‘Oh, my lady! I did not expect you to return so soon. I hope it is not too inconvenient, but the property agent is at this very moment showing the house to a potential buyer! I did not think you would mind.’
Lorene handed her shawl to the footman. ‘Of course I do not mind! I am delighted. We will retire to the drawing room for tea and be out of the way.’
But from the top of the stairs they heard a woman’s voice. ‘It is a bit small, but it will do nicely, I think.’
A man’s accented voice responded, ‘I am still unsure why you wish to buy.’
The three sisters turned in the direction of the stairs as an elegant lady in her middle years, blonde hair fading but still lovely, descended the steps, a greying gentleman behind her.
Tess reached for Lorene’s hand. ‘Mama.’
Lorene and Genna gaped at her, then turned to the woman.
‘Tess?’ The lady broke into a smile and rushed down the stairs. ‘Tess! My darling girl! I never dreamed I would see you so soon.’ She embraced Tess and kissed both her cheeks.
Tess pulled away. Genna moved behind Lorene.
Lorene stared. Was this their mother?
Tess was the only one who would recognise her, the only one who had seen her since they were children. Tess had been reunited with their mother in Brussels during the days of Waterloo.
Their mother looked remarkably like Genna, Lorene thought. She could see in her mind’s eye an image of her mother the night she left them. Yes, this woman. Older. But...her mother, indeed.
‘Mother,’ Tess said in a tense voice. ‘This is Lorene and Genna.’
Her mother’s face lit up again. ‘No! Lorene!’ She put her hands on Lorene’s cheeks. ‘And Genna. My baby!’ Genna stepped out of reach. ‘How beautiful my daughters are!’ Her mother turned to the gentleman. ‘Ossie, look at how beautiful my daughters are!’
The gentleman had reached the bottom of the stairs. ‘Indeed. Quite beautiful.’ He bowed. ‘I can see that emotions are too high for introductions. I am Count von Osten.’
The lover with whom their mother ran away.
Lorene shook herself. ‘Yes. Well. Perhaps you should come into the drawing room. Some tea?’
Another man walked down the stairs. The property agent, she supposed.
Mr Walters strode up to him. ‘Ah, sir. Perhaps it is best if you return to your office. Your purchasers will not be talking of buying at quite this moment.’
The man frowned. ‘If any deal is made behind my back, I will hear of it! I expect my commission.’
Mr Walters guided the man towards the door. ‘If any deal is made you will certainly receive your commission.’
The footman was ready with the man’s hat and topcoat.
‘Come into the drawing room,’ Lorene repeated to her mother and von Osten.
‘I will see to your tea,’ Mr Walters said.
Genna mumbled under her breath, ‘I am going home.’
Lorene took her by the arm. ‘No, you are not. We all should be together.’
Their mother wrapped her arm through Tess’s and walked to the drawing room. ‘It is such a treasure to see all of my daughters at once!’
‘What—what are you doing here, Mother?’ Tess asked.
Their mother and Count von Osten sat together on the sofa. Genna took the chair furthest from them and Tess and Lorene sat facing them.
‘We are here to see you, of course!’ their mother replied, smiling as charmingly as Lorene remembered. ‘And I missed England. London, especially. We are staying at Mivart’s Hotel on Brook Street, but, you know, I fancied a house of our own and I was told this one was for sale.’ She laughed. ‘I never dreamed you would be in residence, dear Lorene! Who could have guessed I would look for a house and find my daughters?’ She reached over and squeezed Lorene’s hand. ‘Edmund sent me word of your husband’s death, my darling. How very fortunate you are!’
‘Edmund might as well be a town crier,’ mumbled Genna.
‘And, Tess, my love!’ their elegant mother cried. ‘You have made me a grandmother! I cannot wait to hold that little one in my arms. Of course, I quite consider Edmund’s son my own grandchild, but he is not really, is he?’
‘Why did you not write and tell us you were coming?’ Tess asked.
‘Yes, why?’ Genna echoed.
‘I told you to write them,’ the Count said. ‘That we should not come unannounced.’
‘Nonsense!’ she said. ‘Of course, I meant to tell all that I was here in London. After I was settled. I do detest a hotel room.’
The Count broke in. ‘Mivart’s is quite agreeable.’
Their mother ignored him. ‘Lorene, dear. Are you truly selling this lovely house?’
‘Yes, Mother,’ she said.
Her mother swept her hand across the room. ‘Whatever for? It is a fine house.’
‘I do not intend to live in town.’ Lorene’s head was spinning. Surely this was not truly happening. This was not her mother returned to England and acting as if she had never left.
‘But you must stay for the Season! Now that you are free!’
> ‘Never mind that,’ Tess persisted. ‘Why are you in London, Mother?’
Von Osten leaned forward. ‘We are here to be married. Now that your father has been gone a respectable amount of time, we can finally be married.’
Their mother’s smile turned stiff. ‘Now, Ossie, we agreed we might marry. I am not so eager as you in that regard.’ Her gaze swept over Lorene and her sisters. ‘We are here, though, to enjoy the London Season. To attend the theatre, to shop, to attend balls and routs. And to see my beautiful daughters.’
‘As an afterthought,’ Genna whispered just loud enough for Lorene to hear.
The footman brought in the tea, which Lorene poured and served to everyone. Genna and Tess placed their teacups on the table untouched. Lorene needed the hot liquid warming her throat and chest to reassure herself she was not dreaming this.
Her mother began to rattle on about Mivart’s Hotel and its accommodations and food when Genna slapped her hand on the table next to her. ‘How can you go on about a silly hotel? Do you not know how hard this is for us?’
‘What is hard, my darling baby girl?’ her mother responded.
‘What is hard?’ Genna stood. ‘You. Being here. Without a word to warn us. Acting as if you were only gone a few days? Do you not have anything to say about why you left us?’
Lorene thought she should stop Genna, but her mouth would not form the words.
Genna went on. ‘I think you owe us an explanation.’
Her mother carefully placed her cup on the table and looked up at her youngest daughter. ‘First of all, I did not plan to see you this way. I am also taken aback. And you know why I left.’ She cast a loving glance towards von Osten.
Genna’s eyes flashed. ‘You left your children. I was only six. And Lorene was nine. Did you know she took over the care of us after that? At nine years old? And she had to marry that detestable old man for us. Did you know she did that for us, because our father left us without a penny?’
‘Genna, please—’ Lorene begged. It was over.
‘I am sorry for all that,’ her mother said, ‘but had I been here, would I have been able to stop any of it from happening? I would not. Besides, it has worked out well for you, has it not? You will be a duchess some day.’
As if that mattered to Genna.
Lorene lifted her hands. ‘Let us not quarrel. We must get used to each other.’ She turned to von Osten, because, unlike the rest of them, he seemed to have his wits together. ‘Maybe we just need a little time.’
Von Osten nodded. ‘Wise idea, my dear.’ He stood. ‘Hetty, let us take our leave and allow your beautiful daughters time to become used to the idea of having their mother back.’
Having her back? Tess and Genna and Edmund had needed their mother when they were little, not now.
They all stood and their mother dashed over to each of them to give them huge hugs. ‘Oh, my darlings!’ she exclaimed. ‘I am so happy to see you. So very happy!’
Von Osten took her by the elbow. ‘Come, love.’
Lorene escorted them into the hall and waited with them while the footman retrieved their things.
‘Please have the agent contact my man of business if you decide you want the house.’
‘Oh, no.’ Her mother smiled. ‘I cannot take this house from you!’
‘I do not want it, I assure you,’ Lorene told her.
She patted Lorene’s hand. ‘Do not be hasty, my darling daughter.’
The footman brought her cloak and put it over her shoulders.
Lorene spoke suddenly. ‘Oh. I did not think. Do you need my carriage? I can send someone for it, if you do.’
‘Kind of you, my dear,’ von Osten said. ‘But we have hired a carriage. He will be circling the streets.’
The footman opened the door.
Lorene’s mother dashed back to her and hugged her again. ‘I am so very happy to see you!’
They were out the door and gone.
Lorene stared at the door for a moment before returning to her sisters.
* * *
The next day Lorene’s butler came to her while she was writing a letter to Edmund. ‘Lady Summerfield and Count von Osten to see you, m’lady.’
The blood drained from her face. Not so soon!
But perhaps they had decided to purchase the town house. She would have to ask them to wait, though, until Mr Walters returned the next day.
‘Thank you, Trask. I’ll be right down. Show them to the drawing room.’
She capped her bottle of ink and wiped her pen and steeled herself for another bout with her mother while she was still reeling from the one the day before.
When Lorene entered the drawing room, her mother ran up to her, hugged her and kissed her on the cheek. ‘I am so glad to see you again. I believe you look even prettier than yesterday!’
‘Thank you, Mother,’ Lorene said reflexively. ‘To what do I owe the honour of your visit?’
‘We are intruding,’ Count von Osten said with an apologetic smile.
Her mother took her hand and led her to the sofa. ‘Well, after yesterday, I was thinking of you all alone in this big house.’
Yesterday she had called the house a bit small.
‘And I wanted so very much to be reacquainted so I convinced myself—and Ossie—that the best thing to do was for us to become your guests.’
‘My guests?’
‘Your guests.’ Her mother smiled her charming smile. ‘I am certain you would have invited us if you’d had any time to think of it.’
‘Invited you?’ She was still not certain what her mother meant.
‘We have come to stay!’ Her mother clapped her hands. ‘Will that not be delightful? Say yes, my darling daughter, and we will have the coachman unload our luggage.’
They’d brought their luggage?
No! They could not stay!
But if it became known Lorene had turned them away—and she could just hear her mother telling her friends that her daughter turned them out into the street—there would be talk. And Lorene detested this sort of gossip.
No one would expect Tess and Glenville to invite them to stay. Tess and Glenville lived with his parents. Genna would throw them out with her bare hands and damn the consequences, which her mother must have guessed.
‘You may stay,’ she said finally. ‘But only until you find a house of your own.’ She stood. ‘I’ll have the main bedrooms readied for you.’ She’d chosen to stay in one of the smaller bedrooms, thinking it would make a better impression on potential buyers to have those main bedrooms untouched.
‘That will be lovely, my darling. We will need rooms for Marie and Fabron as well.’
‘Marie and Fabron?’ Lorene asked.
‘My maid and Ossie’s valet.’
Soon four trunks and assorted other baggage were brought into the house, as well as her mother’s lady’s maid and the Count’s valet.
‘And another lovely thing,’ her mother said as they were served tea in the drawing room. ‘We are invited to a ball tonight.’
‘How very nice for you.’ And very surprising. Lorene had been convinced that her mother would have been cut from everyone’s guest list.
‘The Duchess of Archester included you, my darling.’
Lorene remembered the Duchess. The older lady had been kind to Lorene the last time Lorene had been in town and had said she’d been a friend of Lorene’s mother.
‘I cannot attend,’ Lorene said.
‘You must attend! Your sisters will attend. You must attend, as well.’
‘I did not pack any ball gowns.’ Her mother would understand that reason for not going. She remembered that much about her mother.
‘No ball gowns!’ Her mother seized her hand. ‘Come quick. You
will wear one of mine. Marie can alter it after she unpacks the trunks.’
Lorene held back. ‘Really, Mother, I did not come to London to go to balls. I am only here to sell this house and be about finding a property in the country.’
‘Nonsense!’ Her mother halted on the stairs and took Lorene’s face in her hands. ‘You cannot hide that lovely face in the country! You are a widow! A widow is in the best position to enjoy herself.’
Lorene was swept along to the bedchamber she’d given her mother. A pretty woman was in the room, unpacking one of three trunks.
Nellie, Lorene’s lady’s maid, was assisting her. ‘Oh, m’lady. I knew you would not mind if I helped. So many trunks to unpack! Besides, I thought it would be a way to help Marie feel more at home here.’
Now even Nellie seemed caught up in the whirlwind that was Lorene’s mother. ‘That was kind of you, Nellie.’
‘We need to find ball gowns for tonight,’ Lorene’s mother told the maids. ‘One for Lady Tinmore and one for me.’
It was three against one. The maids embraced the project with as much enthusiasm as her mother. Four ball gowns were pulled out of one of the trunks, each more beautiful than the next.
‘The colours are all wrong!’ her mother lamented. ‘With that beautiful fair skin and dark hair, you will look so much better in dark, rich colours. Not these pale things.’ She picked up the skirt of one of the gowns and tossed it down again.
She picked up one dress and held it to Lorene’s body. ‘This will do.’
The dress had a white silk underdress with three layers of net in a golden yellow. The net overdress was embroidered with flowers in gold thread along the hem and bodice. It was a lovely gown, but nothing like Lorene would pick for herself.
‘Here, girls, alter this to fit her.’ Lorene’s mother handed the dress to the maids. ‘We need it by tonight.’
So against Lorene’s wishes, her mother and her mother’s lover were staying in her house and with them she would attend a ball given by the Duchess of Archester. No doubt the presence of her mother and Count von Osten would cast much attention on the Summerfield sisters as well as their mother.
She did not look forward to this ball.