by Diane Gaston
‘Of course you can!’ Nellie squatted down to look into her face. ‘What is it, m’lady?’
‘You must promise to tell no one.’
‘I promise,’ Nellie cried. ‘I would never talk about your private matters.’
‘Well.’ Lorene glanced away. Who else could she talk to? She took a breath. ‘I have taken a lover.’
Nellie broke out into a smile. ‘Oh, that is wonderful, m’lady! Who is it?’
She did not expect that question. ‘I would rather not say.’
‘That is all right,’ the maid said. She gave her sideways glance. ‘I’ll wager it is Lord Penford.’
Lorene’s cheeks burned. ‘Why do you say so?’
‘Oh, at Summerfield House we used to wonder why he let you stay. We thought he might be smitten with you.’ She grinned. ‘It will make us all happy.’
‘You cannot say so to them!’ Lorene said.
Nellie lifted her hands. ‘I will say nothing. I already promised.’
‘I need your help, Nellie. I do not have anyone else to ask.’
Her maid nodded. ‘I will help you.’
She rose from the chair and walked over to where she had dropped the bed linens. ‘I need to have these laundered without anyone knowing.’
Nellie looked puzzled, but took the bundle. ‘I will do this, certainly.’
‘But there is more,’ Lorene said. ‘I need to know how—how to prevent a baby.’
Nellie looked aghast and Lorene wavered. Had she gone too far in confiding in Nellie?
Nellie’s eyes were wide. ‘Do you mean, you do not know?’
Lorene shook her head. ‘In spite of my being married, I have no experience in such things.’
‘Well, we must get you a sponge—’ Nellie seemed to know all about this.
The maid explained how to use the sponge and promised to bring her one before the next day.
When she finished, Lorene hugged her. ‘Thank you, Nellie! What would I do without you?’
Nellie’s grin erupted again. ‘You could ask your mother, perhaps?’
Lorene gasped at the thought. She did not know her mother well enough to trust her and what she knew made her question her mother’s judgement.
‘Speaking of my mother,’ Lorene said. ‘Is she at home?’
‘Yes, m’lady, but Count von Osten is not.’
Lorene presented her back to the maid. ‘Then help me dress, Nellie. I should probably speak with her.’
* * *
Lorene found her mother in the drawing room seated in a chair, a glass in hand and a nearly empty crystal decanter on the table beside her.
‘Mother?’
Her mother raised her glass as Lorene approached her. ‘Lorene, my darling daughter. Haven’t you been gone a long time?’ Her words were slurred. ‘Not as long as some, though.’ She laughed.
Lorene picked up the decanter and received a strong whiff of brandy. ‘Are you drinking the Count’s brandy?’
‘Why not?’ Her mother drank the remaining contents of her glass. ‘Ossie will not need it.’
Lorene had no idea what that meant. ‘You’ve had quite a bit of it.’
Her mother poured the last of it into the glass.
‘Did something happen with Genna?’ If so, it must have been a terrible row.
‘With Genna?’ Her mother seemed to struggle to recall. ‘Oh, with Genna. She scolded me for leaving when you were children and scolded me for coming back and scolded me for causing more gossip. Disagreeable girl. Perhaps I should have been around to teach her some proper manners.’
‘Genna is outspoken,’ Lorene said. ‘It is one of her most admirable traits.’
Her mother laughed again, though it was a dry sound. ‘And one of her abiding faults.’
‘So you quarrelled?’ She feared they would quarrel.
‘Oh, no,’ her mother said, taking a sip from her glass. ‘I was all properly contrite. Shedding tears and all, so she had to agree to be friends.’ She stared into the glass as if reconsidering. ‘Not friends, precisely. She did make me agree not to cause any more scandal, but I do not know how I can do that when I don’t cause scandal. Other people merely like to gossip about me.’
‘When you accept invitations from Lord Alvanley and others of the Prince Regent’s set, you are causing gossip.’
‘Now you are scolding me,’ she pouted, putting the glass to her lips again.
‘Are you upset about Genna?’ Lorene asked.
Her mother made a scornful face. ‘No. She will get over her sulks.’
This was becoming more confusing. ‘Then why are you drinking a whole decanter of brandy?’
Her mother leaned forward, almost losing her balance and slipping off the sofa. ‘Because, my darling daughter, Count von Osten has left me.’ She shoved a piece of paper at Lorene.
Lorene unfolded it and read silently.
My dear Hetty,
I have had all I am able to endure. I came to London to marry you, not to stand around while you flirt with a gentleman of questionable character.
I return to Brussels. Fabron may pack my things and follow me, but I am already gone.
Yours, et cetera,
O.
Lorene looked up from the letter.
‘He has left me!’ Her mother flung herself down on the sofa and had a fit of weeping.
Lorene came to her side and tried to comfort her, even though she secretly felt her mother was at fault. The Count might have been the reason her mother abandoned her children years ago, but he’d always seemed like a decent man. His devotion to her mother was evident, but his decision to stand up to her was admirable.
‘Now, now, Mother,’ Lorene murmured. ‘Perhaps you can go after him. I will send you in my carriage.’
‘Run after him?’ Her mother sat up and looked aghast. ‘Never! I have done nothing wrong.’
‘Mother.’ Her tone was direct. ‘Really. You have treated him shabbily since you arrived here.’
‘I have done nothing of the sort!’ Her mother tried to stand, but lost her balance and collapsed on to the sofa again.
‘Mother, this is the man you love, is he not?’ Did she not love him more than her own children?
‘Doesn’t matter,’ her mother muttered. She tried to stand up again, this time bracing herself against the sofa to keep her balance. ‘I am not going to chase after him!’
‘Where are you going, then?’ Lorene asked.
‘Out,’ her mother said haughtily. ‘To call upon my friend.’
‘The gentleman of questionable character?’ She used the Count’s words.
‘Why should I not call upon him?’ Her mother lifted her nose indignantly.
‘Because the Count asked you not to.’ And because calling on the gentleman would undoubtedly put her name in the newspapers yet again.
‘Ossie is not my husband. He cannot dictate who I call upon and who I do not!’ She’d spouted the same refrain that morning.
It seemed so long ago. ‘Now, he did not dictate, did he? He simply asked you.’ It would not have been like the Count to forbid.
She took a swaying step. ‘I am going out anyway.’
‘You will not go out!’ Lorene stated firmly. She took hold of her mother’s shoulders. ‘You are in no condition!’
‘I will do as I please!’ Her mother wrenched away, but had to grab Lorene again to keep from falling.
‘Not this time, Mother.’ Lorene pulled her away.
Her mother used a table to help keep her upright.
Lorene crossed the room and tugged on the bell pull.
Her mother staggered her way towards the door, leaning on the furniture as she went.
Lorene’s butler appeared at the door.
She gestured for him to enter. ‘Trask, help me take my mother to her bedchamber. She needs to rest.’
‘As you wish, ma’am.’ Trask hurried to her mother’s side.
Lorene put one of her mother’s arms around her shoulder and Trask took the other one. She protested loudly the whole way to her bedchamber on the same floor, but did not resist.
Her mother’s lady’s maid was in her room.
‘Marie, my mother needs a nap,’ Lorene told her. ‘Help her, will you?’
‘Of course, madame,’ Marie said.
Trask left the room and Lorene and Marie helped her mother undress down to her shift.
‘Come, Mother,’ Lorene murmured. ‘Sleep now.’
They helped her into bed.
When Lorene walked back into the hallway, she leaned against the wall. The happy glow of her time with Dell had faded, dimmed by the drama her mother created.
* * *
The next morning her mother elected to remain in bed. Likely the effects of the brandy were preying upon her. Lorene prevailed upon her mother’s maid and Mr Trask to keep her mother inside while Lorene went on her ‘errand’.
Dressing for the day was difficult. Lorene wanted to look her best for Dell, but she also did not want it to be obvious she had fussed with her appearance.
Nellie solved the dilemma. ‘May I suggest, m’lady, a gown you can take off and put on by yourself?’
Practical Nellie.
Nellie had also provided the sponge Lorene had first learned about the day before. Who knew why Nellie was so knowledgeable?
Lorene had told Mr Walters that she would meet him at the town house at one in the afternoon. Mr Walters was to see that Mr Good, the architect, was informed of the one o’clock time as well.
She walked unaccompanied the short distance to Dell’s town house and used the key to let herself in. She arrived before the time she and Dell agreed upon so she could put the freshly laundered linens on the bed.
* * *
When the time neared for Dell to arrive, Lorene paced the hall. Would it be as she remembered? Would he be as she remembered? Or would what they’d shared together somehow change things between them?
She already felt changed.
Through the window she saw him walk up to the door, carrying a basket. Before he could sound the knocker, she opened the door. Her uneasiness grew.
He stepped into the hall, dropped the basket and immediately pulled her into his arms, capturing her lips as if his first meal in a week. Her hands held his face, holding him in the kiss for fear he might stop and separate from her again. The kiss was more than eager, more than intense, more than any kiss could possibly be.
‘I have missed you,’ he murmured, finally moving away just enough to be able to speak.
She smiled. ‘I missed you, too.’ At least she’d missed him when her life gave her the luxury of thinking about him.
They kissed again. Lorene captured the moment in her mind. She would remember the feel of his lips against hers, the taste of him, his scent.
Still pressing his lips against hers, he lifted her and she wrapped her legs around him. He carried her up the stairs to his bedchamber and, like the day before, set her on the bed.
She looked up at him. ‘I am prepared this time.’
He nodded approvingly while she unfastened the front of her dress and he tore off his coat. Soon they were naked and his flesh was pressed against hers.
Another moment to savour. The feel of his body against hers. The intimate touching.
This lovemaking was eager, as eager as the greeting kiss had been. He entered her and they rushed to their climax as if they’d already waited too long when they’d been apart.
The next time was slow and sensuous. Dell stroked her body until Lorene thought she would shatter with desire. The waiting, the slow build, worked a magic she never expected. Her pleasure intensified and seemed to roll on for ever.
* * *
Dell’s desire was sated and his body languorous after. He focused on those feelings rather than admit to himself how hard it would be for this idyll to come to an end.
He left the bed still naked and walked downstairs to retrieve the basket he’d bought at Fortnum and Mason before coming to the town house. Sitting cross-legged on the bed and facing each other, the basket in the middle, they drank wine and nibbled on a selection of cheeses and sweetmeats while Lorene shared her ideas about the next rooms to finish.
‘I have decided to move into this house,’ he told her, popping a piece of cheese into his mouth.
‘You did?’ Her lovely face brightened. ‘I am so glad.’
‘When do you think it can be accomplished?’ What went in to setting up a new household? He’d never been faced with this problem. ‘How might it be accomplished?’
‘First thing is to hire servants,’ she said.
Having servants in the house would change things, he thought. Other gentlemen might entertain all sorts of women under the noses of the servants, but Dell could not see compromising Lorene’s privacy like that.
That thought depressed him. ‘When servants are hired, we will not be able to meet like this.’
He watched dismay come over her features.
‘Not without risking talk, I suppose.’ She put on a brave but sad smile. ‘I suppose I always knew we could not continue for long.’
He lowered his voice. ‘I do not want this to end now, Lorene. Not because of a town house and servants.’
‘I do not want this to end now either,’ she said.
He smiled. ‘Servants must have a day off.’
Her eyes sparkled. ‘They do indeed!’
‘We might have a whole day together.’ He filled her wine glass. ‘Perhaps I will purchase a pianoforte and you will play for me.’
‘As I did at Summerfield House that first time we met.’ She smiled and took a sip. ‘You so politely allowed me to play my old music on the pianoforte that I grew up playing. I was so touched when you gave me that music later.’ Her eyes grew huge. ‘It was you. You sent me the Mozart Quintets!’
‘I thought you might like it,’ he said.
That first Season after they’d met, he’d seen her at a musicale. She seemed to enjoy the music performed more than anyone else in the room, so the next day he combed the music shops until he found piano sheet music for the Quintets, possibly the last copies in London. He’d sent them to her anonymously. It seemed too presumptuous a gift for a single gentleman to send to an elderly earl’s new wife.
She put down her wine glass and moved the basket from between them. She placed her hands on both sides of his face and carefully kissed his lips.
‘That was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for me.’ Her voice was raspy with emotion. ‘They are my favourite pieces of music. Now I shall treasure them even more.’
He kissed her back and felt the flaring of desire, but he had delayed long enough what he must tell her. He nestled her against him, his arm around her, his fingers playing with her hair.
‘There is something I must tell you.’ He’d delayed long enough.
He must have sounded ominous, because her voice turned wary. ‘What is that?’
‘Lady Alice has apparently told her parents that I was courting her and that I had made her an offer of marriage.’
Lorene slid back to her seat opposite him.
‘It is not true,’ he quickly told her. ‘I danced with her at balls and I took her for one ride in the park. That is all. I do not know why she said what she did. But apparently the Duchess of Kessington has been meddling as well. She told Lady Alice’s mother that I intended to offer for their daughter. The Duchess knew very well that I had decided no such thing. She was manipulating.’
Lorene covered
herself with the bed linens.
Dell felt the bleakness creeping back. ‘I am hopeful that Lord and Lady Brackton will not risk their daughter’s reputation by disclosing any of this, but we shall have to see.’
‘Has this become common knowledge, Dell?’ she asked.
‘Not yet, apparently,’ he responded. ‘But I wouldn’t put it past any of them to open their mouths about it.’
‘I will not expose myself to scandal. I cannot. Imagine if we are seen together.’ She averted her gaze and he felt as if he’d lost her this second.
She climbed off the bed. ‘I should get dressed.’
Before she could pick up her clothes, he stood and faced her, holding her by her upper arms. ‘Stay, Lorene.’
She tilted her head up and looked him in the eye. ‘You may be obligated to another. I cannot do this.’
He gripped her arms. ‘I refuse to be obligated. I will not be manipulated into marrying a lady I do not love.’ To think he’d been about to do that very thing.
Her face was inches from his. He kissed her again as passionately as before and with desperation, because he feared he’d lost her. She kissed him back with equal fervour, but with the aura of goodbye.
When he broke away, he rasped, ‘I will not give this up without a fight.’
She shook her head. ‘A fight would merely bring more gossip.’ She touched his face. ‘We will see what happens. That is the most I can say. But now we must return to the—the way it was before yesterday.’
He released her. And felt the blackness descend upon him.
Chapter Seventeen
The next few days were an agony for Dell. He saw Lorene at the town house when she met with Mr Good or the workers. Her man of business accompanied her and there was no opportunity to speak privately. He’d engaged an agency to find him servants and had to interview the applicants for butler at the town house. Once he hired the butler, he’d trust him to select the other servants.
He would have liked Lorene to sit in on the interviews and tell him who she thought would be best, but under the circumstances, how could he?
This day was the last of the applicants for butler. After the man left, Dell found himself unexpectedly alone with Lorene in the hall.