It also baffled Selina why Lord Ashcott’s widow would have married Rupert Crowe, but then Lady Helen had always been an unmitigated fool. The daughter of the Marquess of Brockhurst and a remarkable beauty, her behaviour had been a scandal long before she had deserted her husband and run off to the Continent with her lover, Lord Benton.
Selina recalled hearing that Lady Helen, no longer young or beautiful, had returned to England after Benton’s death a year or so ago, but no one in society, including her sisters and brothers, would have anything to do with her.
When Reeves answered Selina’s knock, she took advantage of his momentary shock at the sight of her to brush past him into the house.
Recovering himself, the butler said, “Lord Vayle is not at home.”
“I know that. I have come to see Lady Vayle.”
“His lordship left strict orders that no one is to be admitted to see his wife while he is in Ireland.”
Reeves had always seemed so humourless to Selina that she could not resist teasing him a bit.
“But surely you can make an exception for me.” Selina gave him a wicked smile. “After all, his lordship and I are such old and dear friends.”
“And that, Lady Brompton, if you will pardon my say—”
“I wish to see my caller, Reeves.”
The feminine voice behind Selina was pleasant and melodious, that of an assured woman used to commanding a household.
Turning to see Lucian’s wife, Selina found a very young girl with huge blue eyes watching her from the drawing room door. Her face was rather plain except for those eyes. Her dark hair was pulled back carelessly, and she had on a dreadful dress that no female over the age of twelve should have been permitted to wear.
The girl’s voice was at such odds with her appearance that Selina could not help staring.
The girl stared back, clearly as curious about her visitor as Lucian’s mistress was about her.
Poor Reeves, usually the soul of imperturbability, looked as though he were suffering from a bout of extreme indigestion. “But, Lady Vayle, his lordship expressly—”
The girl said, “I am certain, Reeves, that my husband would not wish you to turn away such a dear friend.”
Selina experienced a moment’s unease. Surely, the child could not possibly know who she was.
The girl said, “Please join me in the drawing room, Lady Brompton.”
The butler protested, “But, my lady—”
My lady said firmly, “I assure you, Reeves, that it will be fine.”
Reeves looked as though it would be anything but fine. However, he was clearly at a loss how to explain to his young mistress the reason she should not welcome her husband’s “dear friend.”
Selina went into the drawing room, thinking that Vayle’s wife might look like a child, but she was no weak, simpering miss.
When the two women were seated across from each other, Selina said politely, although not entirely truthfully, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Vayle.”
“Please call me Angel,” she said with an enchanting smile that made her rather plain face suddenly seem lovely. With the right coiffure and clothes for her petite figure, she could be very striking.
Selina observed, “You cannot be wearing one of the gowns that Lucian bought for you from Madame de la Roche.” Lucian’s taste was much better than that.
Angel’s smile faded. “No, it seemed a waste to wear them when Lucian is not here to see them.”
The wistfulness in her tone touched Selina’s heart, and she said sympathetically, “You must be lonely without him.”
“I am,” Angel admitted. “I am glad you called on me, Lady Brompton. I have been very curious to meet you.”
“I am surprised that you would know who I am. Do you?”
“Aye,” Angel answered with another friendly smile. “You are my husband’s mistress.”
For a moment, Selina’s voice failed her. Then she said weakly, “Surely Vayle did not tell you that.”
“No. I had great difficulty even getting him to explain to me what a mistress is.” Her guileless gaze met her visitor’s. “You see, I did not know.”
Conjecture swirled in Selina’s mind, and she blurted, “My dear child, just what did Vayle tell you?”
“That a man sleeps with both his wife and mistress.” Angel paused, then added hastily, “But not at the same time, which would be excessively uncomfortable.”
“Excessively,” Selina agreed dryly. Fascinated by these candid revelations, she could not resist asking gently, “And now that you do know what a mistress is, how do you feel about me?”
Angel’s face puckered a little. “I confess that when I learned that it meant he made love to you as he does to me, I was very jealous of you.”
Selina said softly, “I think it is I who am a little jealous of you, Angel.”
“Oh, you should not be,” the girl assured her kindly. “If you are Lucian’s mistress, it means he chose you. He did not choose me.” Her brilliant eyes clouded. “The truth is he did not want to marry me at all. He was tricked into it by my dreadful stepfather and his son.”
That was the last thing Selina had expected Angel to disclose to her, but she seized the opening. “How did they manage that?”
“They drugged him and me, put me in his bed, then arranged for us to be discovered like that before we awoke.”
“Dear God,” Selina said with feeling. “How terrible for both you and Lucian.”
“It was, but then I made the situation even worse,” Angel confessed dolefully.
“How did you do that?”
“You will think me very stupid, but, you see, I did not understand how babies were made. I thought I had only to lie beside him and I would…”
“I do not think you in the least stupid, Angel, only very innocent.” Selina was remembering another young girl who had been every bit as naive and guileless as Angel when she had married, years earlier at age sixteen, the man of her dreams.
And then he had cruelly shattered those dreams—and her heart.
Angel recalled, “It made Lucian very angry because he thought I was helping the Crowes in their plot, which I would never do. I was furious that he could think such a thing of me.”
“I hope you told him so.”
“I did. Then I challenged him to a duel.” Selina stared at her in shock. “Sweet heaven, why?”
“I had to defend my honour. Don’t you see?”
“What I do not see is how, after that, you two ended up married.”
“Lucian would not accept my challenge unless I agreed that if I lost, I would marry him.”
“I gather you lost,” Selina said, struggling valiantly to maintain the gravity of her expression.
“Aye, but he said I was one of the best opponents he had ever faced.”
“What a unique courtship,” Selina observed dryly. Now she began to understand the bafflement that she had seen in Lucian’s eyes before he had described his bride as unique. He was, she suspected, as nonplussed and enchanted by his innocent, unconventional bride as she was.
She also understood why he was so anxious to keep Angel hidden away while he was in Ireland. Selina shuddered to think what some of the more malicious gossips would do if Angel confided in them what she had just told her. Lucian had clearly recognized the danger and tried to protect her.
The dear innocent was not ready for London society with its cruel wit and vicious backbiting. Just as Selina had not been ready…
Her mind slipped back through time. She had been twelve when she had met the dashing, handsome Earl of Brompton, a friend of her father’s youngest brother. She had promptly become hopelessly infatuated with him.
When, after four years of paying her no notice, his lordship had offered for her, Selina had thought herself the happiest female on the face of the earth. She had never been to London, had never even been beyond the boundaries of her father’s estate. She had been raised, like Angel, as a protected innocent.
Selina had known nothing of society or its ways, had not even known that she was a great heiress with coveted family connections and a very rich marital prize for an ambitious, impoverished earl with an expensive mistress to maintain.
Selina had known no more than Angel when her new husband had initiated her to the secrets of love with superb expertise. On their honeymoon, he had been everything an adoring young wife could want.
Then they had come to London where she soon discovered that her naïveté embarrassed her husband. He had mocked her ignorance and branded her stupid for her candour. His mistress had spitefully embroidered the stories of the rustic little bride’s gaucheries and broadcast them to the world.
Selina had never forgotten how her husband and his mistress had humiliated her. Nor how lost and alone and confused she had felt when she had first come to London.
Fortunately, her aunt, the duchess of Stratford, had taken her in hand, and taught her the ways of society. Selina had been a quick study. In time her beauty and vivacity had made her the toast of London.
After she had dutifully borne her lord two sons, she had coldly informed him, to his shock, that he was no longer welcome in her bed. She replaced him there with men who appreciated her.
But she never again let a man touch her heart.
Lucian had come closer than any other man.
They had met when he had arrived with Dutch William when the new king had come to London to claim the throne after his father-in-law had fled. Selina and Lucian had quickly become lovers and friends.
She had sensed in him a kindred spirit whose own heart and pride had suffered a devastating blow, although he had never confided to her what it was, just as she had not told him about her mortifying experience at the hands of her husband and his mistress.
Now Selina was determined that Vayle’s captivating bride would not suffer as she had.
Angel needed to be taught how to dress and trained in the ways of London society. For her own protection, her candour must be curbed a little, but only a little. Angel had to be taken in hand as the Duchess of Stratford had once taken her niece.
And no one could do that better than Selina.
Chapter 22
Lucian had ridden like a madman from the coast, stopping only to change horses and to catch a few hours sleep.
Between the contrary winds in the Irish Sea and the king’s wish to keep him at his side in Ireland until after the Battle of Boyne, in which William had defeated James II’s troops, Lucian’s trip to Ireland had taken three weeks all told.
Now, reaching London, he went immediately to the queen to deliver the king’s messages to her and to reassure her personally, at William’s order, that her father had suffered no harm in his defeat.
As Lucian waited impatiently to be ushered into the queen’s presence, he pulled, as he had so often during the past three weeks, the miniature of Angel from his pocket and studied her face. It would not be long now.
He had worried about her sitting all alone, friendless and bored, in his London house, awaiting his return, and his heart had gone out to her, knowing how miserable she must be.
Once Lucian had given Queen Mary the king’s letters and assured her that both William and her father were in good health, he withdrew from the royal presence and left Whitehall at a pace that would have done justice to an entry in a Newcastle race.
When he reached his London house at last, he bounded up the stairs and inside.
Reeves met him in the hall. “My lord, we did not expect you.”
For some reason, his butler looked less than pleased to see him.
“I had no time to send word.”
Hearing footsteps at the top of the stairs, he looked up expectantly, thinking he would see his wife.
Instead a woman he had never laid eyes on before gave him a haughty perusal and retreated down the hall.
“Who the devil is that?” he demanded.
“Lady Vayle’s maid.”
“Where the hell did she come from?” Lucian demanded, nonplussed. “And where is my wife?”
Reeves nervously picked at an invisible piece of lint on his sleeve. “I fear she has gone out, my lord.”
“Out! I told her she was not to set foot beyond the front door.” Lucian was disappointed that even more time must pass before he could see his wife again. He was also outraged that she had blatantly disobeyed him and that Reeves had permitted it.
He growled, “This is not the kind of surprise I like.”
“No, my lord,” the butler said politely, then muttered something under his breath to the effect that it was not the only one his lordship was in for.
Lucian frowned. “I told you, did I not, Reeves, that you were not to let her go out.”
“Aye, my lord,” the butler agreed, “but I fear it is quite impossible to dissuade my lady when she has a mind to do something.”
“If she has gone out, why is her maid not with her? How could you let her—”
Lucian broke off at the sound of the front door opening behind him and turned to discover a very pretty young woman with glossy, chocolate curls caught up in a fetching style. Both the perky hat atop her curls and her rose gown were in high fashion. He was so taken by her that he paid no heed to the woman behind her.
The young woman saw him, and his breath caught at the sudden, brilliant smile that enveloped her face. She launched herself at him, throwing her arms exuberantly around his neck. “Lucian, Lucian, you are back.”
God’s oath, it was Angel.
His astonishment at the change in his wife since he had last seen her was overridden by his delight in seeing her at last. His own arms went round her, and he returned her embrace. Their mouths met in a long, passionate kiss that made him forget all else, including his ingrained abhorrence of displaying emotion in front of others.
Lucian drank in the sweet scent of dewy wildflowers that was Angel’s alone. When he lifted his lips from hers, he wanted to bury his face in her cascade of shining curls, but that damned, cute little hat defeated him.
He belatedly remembered that he was angry with her for disobeying him. “Angel, why are you going about London alone without your maid? Speaking of her, where the devil did she come from?”
“Angel was not going about alone, Lucian,” a familiar, throaty voice said from the threshold.
His jaw dropped in consternation as he realized that the woman with his wife was Selina.
“I was with Angel,” Selina said.
Bloody hell! This was definitely not the homecoming he had been anticipating.
“That should comfort me?” he asked acidly.
Selina ignored his question. “I also hired the maid for her.”
“Selina has been the greatest help to me,” Angel said happily. “You cannot imagine all that she has told me.”
Lucian could, but he would rather not.
“She has become my very best friend,” Angel assured him with one of her glowing smiles.
Lucian felt as though he had just stumbled into quicksand. Damn it, a man’s wife and his mistress were not supposed to become best friends.
His gaze chanced to alight on Reeves. His normally wooden-faced butler appeared to be struggling manfully to keep from grinning.
Lucian did not see a damn thing funny. He hoped to hell that Angel had no inkling of his relationship to Selina. But, of course, she could not, he reassured himself. She would never embrace his mistress as her best friend.
The house was so quiet one could hear a silk handkerchief drop. Lucian suspected that every servant who could manage it was an interested, if hidden, eavesdropper.
“Ladies, I prefer to continue this edifying conversation in the privacy of my library.”
Reeves looked acutely disappointed.
After Lucian had shepherded the two women into the library and closed the door behind them, he studied his fashionably dressed wife. “You have become quite a lady in my absence.”
She glowed at his pr
aise. “Selina has been so kind to me. She has taught me so much about how to dress and wear my hair and how I should act in society.”
“I am glad she has been of such service to you,” he said stiffly, wondering what the hell else his mistress had taught his wife.
Angel met her husband’s gaze with her guileless eyes. “I must confess that I was very jealous of Selina at first, but she is so kind and lovely that I can see why you would want her for your mistress, Lucian. I like her excessively.”
His smile vanished. He wanted to throttle Selina. Why in bloody hell had she told his wife about their relationship?
Angel said, “You have excellent judgment, my lord.”
“Thank you—I think.”
“I was very unhappy when you explained to me what sharing you with your mistress meant,” Angel confided, “but now that I know Selina I do not mind.”
“God’s oath,” he exclaimed, deeply chagrined and more than a little angry that she would not care. “Doesn’t it even bother you.”
“Well, yes,” Angel, ever honest, admitted, “but I want you both to be happy and—”
“You are very generous, Angel,” Selina broke in, “but I assure you that I am now Lucian’s former mistress. I do not feel that I can be both your friend and his lover.” She threw Lucian a mocking look. “And I prefer to be your friend.”
All power of speech had deserted Lucian. No, not in his wildest dreams, could he possibly have imagined this homecoming.
Angel protested, “But Lucian will be so unhappy.”
“No, I suspect he will be greatly relieved,” Selina said with a smile.
She was right. Her perception was another one of the things that he had always liked about Selina.
“I have given Angel an intense course in how to act and deal with society, and she is ready to be launched,” Selina said. “My aunt, the Duchess of Stratford, and I have managed to put an end to the worst of the stories that were circulating about Angel and your marriage.”
“How?” Lucian asked.
“With the truth. Angel told me how the Crowes had stolen her inheritance and drugged you both to stage that scene at Fernhill. My aunt and I have whispered the story far and wide. Coming from us, everyone believed it.” She smiled in satisfaction. “The Crowes can never hope to regain a position in society now.”
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