“Room 214, and I’ll have one of the bellboys bring the rollaway and bedding as soon as possible.”
“Thank you,” Reginald replied. He grabbed his suitcase and one of mine, and we headed for the staircase. My legs felt like wilted flowers underneath my body, and it took all my effort to climb the few steps to the second floor. Thankfully, the room wasn’t too far down the hallway. After inserting the key, Reginald reached around the corner, finding a light switch, and flipped it on before we entered. Just as we did, I heard the rolling of wheels and caught a glimpse of the bellboy heading our way.
“Rollaway,” he said, pushing by us through the open door. He set the small foldout springs and mattress against the wall. “An extra pillow and blanket are in the closet, as well as clean sheets,” he said.
“I’m grateful for your help,” Reginald said. He set the suitcases down, took out his wallet, and gave the young lad a tip. After he left and the door was closed, I glanced around our room. It was clean and comfortable, and the bed looked terribly inviting. It was big enough for two people, but of course that option was out of the question.
“Well then,” he said. “I better figure out how to open this contraption.”
“Let me help.” After inspecting it for a moment, Reginald unlatched the mechanism that kept the foot and head folded against each other. When he took one end, I took the other, and we lowered it into place. The mattress looked a bit lumpy and old, and I felt sorry for him. The poor man looked exhausted, and he needed a good night’s sleep too.
After opening the closet and finding the extra sheet, blanket, and pillow, I began making the bed for him.
“I can do that,” he said, reaching out and grabbing the cover.
“That’s a woman’s job,” I protested. “I’m happy to help. After all, I learned how to tuck a rather tight corner in my homemaking class.”
“You did?” he said, watching me with a grin on his face.
I giggled. “Frankly, I don’t think my mother has made a bed in the past twenty years, and to be honest, I’ve never made one either.”
After finishing the masterpiece, I wasn’t quite sure what to do next. We both stood there, looking at each. He didn’t look embarrassed over the situation, but I felt awkward to be spending the night in the same room with a man. Perhaps I should have worried a little that he would take advantage of me and the situation, but in my heart, I knew he was not a scoundrel.
“I need to get my nightdress out of my suitcase.” After picking one case up and placing it on the bed, I unlatched it and opened the contents.
“Well, we’re going to have to do this delicately,” Reginald announced. “Why don’t I find my pajamas and change in the washroom.”
“All right,” I agreed. “You go first, and then I’ll change afterward.”
“Well, that’s not right,” he protested. “Ladies first.”
“But then you’ll see me in my nightgown.” I scowled.
“Well, you’ll see me in my pajamas,” he countered with a silly grin.
The situation was becoming a choreographed pajama affair, and I just wanted to sleep. “Okay, you first,” I proposed, “then when you come out, I’ll turn around while you get into bed. Then I’ll change, and when I’m ready, you can hide under the covers or something until I am settled.” Thinking that I had solved the problem, he had one last question.
“Who will turn off the light?” His eyes sparkled mischievously.
“I will since I’m last in bed.” I pointed toward the bath chamber. “Now go. I’m tired,” I groaned.
After rummaging through his suitcase, he grabbed his things and retreated. He took his sweet time changing. I heard the toilet flush and the water running for a few moments. Finally he poked his head out the door.
“If you don’t want to see a thirty-something-year-old man in striped pajamas, I suggest you turn your head.”
Instead, I stood there like a fool and gawked at him as he walked in front of me. He neatly set his trousers, shirt, and other items down on a nearby chair. All of a sudden, I had a terrible curiosity flash through my mind about what he looked like naked. Apparently, I still had a tempting weakness in my personality.
“You looked,” he said, pulling back the covers on the rollaway. He slipped in, lay on his side, but leaned on his elbow. “Your turn.”
“Yes, my turn,” I said, scurrying away. As soon as I closed the door behind me, I leaned against it and exhaled the breath that I had been holding. What in the world happened to me out there? I knew I could trust Reginald but was quite aware that I could never trust myself. Perhaps this had been a terrible decision to room together, but nothing could be done about it.
After the same routine of using the toilet, washing my face, and gathering up my clothes in my arm, I slowly opened the door and called out. “Turn around, please.”
“Will do,” he answered. The rollaway bed creaked as he rolled over. “It’s safe now.”
Slowly I tiptoed in my bare feet and put my clothes down on another nearby chair. The light switch by the door wasn’t too far away, so I ran over, flipped it off, and turned back toward the bed. Before I made it safety, my toe caught the corner of the rollaway, ramming it straight into the metal leg.
“Bloody hell!” The words just flew out of my mouth before I could even think about what I said. I lifted my foot and hopped over to the bed. Of course the screech alarmed Reginald, who promptly jumped to his feet and flipped on the light. Tears rolled down my cheeks from the pain.
“Stubbed it, eh?” He walked over and stood in front of me.
“I’m sorry I swore,” I blubbered. “But it hurts like the dickens.”
“Let me take a look at it. Hopefully, you didn’t break it.”
“Break it?” The thought angered me. Just what I needed, a broken toe.
“Do you mind if I touch it?”
“Be gentle,” I pleaded.
“Always,” he replied, reaching out and taking my foot into his left palm. His fingers touched my reddened appendage. Gently he attempted to move it. “Does it hurt when I bend it a little?”
To my surprise, it didn’t, but it was turning blue at the base. “Not too much,” I responded. “Stupid toe.”
“Well, it doesn’t seem to be broken. It looks like you’ll have a nasty bruise though.” He thought for a moment. “I could ask room service to bring some ice. That might help.”
Reginald continued to hold my foot in his hand. His empathetic gaze reminded me of his mother. The same calming and loving demeanor she portrayed evidently resided in his soul too. The trait became another endearment in the growing list of things that I liked about him.
“No, that’s okay,” I replied, slowly removing my foot from his hand. “I’m so tired; I just want to sleep.”
“Well, if it starts to throb, let me know. I have some aspirin. You can take two to ease the pain.”
“All right.”
“Now get to bed young lady, and I’ll tuck you in and turn off the light.” He grinned.
“Tuck me in?” My eyes widened at him treating me like a child. I wanted him to see me as a woman. He waited for me to get under the covers, so I did. I almost thought he would bend down and give me a peck on my cheek and wish me good night. We exchanged a long silent gaze between each other, and I saw a spark of interest in his eyes again.
“Light,” I said, pulling the covers under my chin and my gaze away from his handsome face.
“Good night, Isabella.” He stepped over and flipped the switch. The room went dark, and I heard the squeak of the rollaway as he climbed on top.
“Good night, Reginald,” I whispered. No other words were spoken between us, and a few minutes later we both drifted off to sleep.
The night had swiftly passed but not before making a fool out of myself in front of Reginald. Since the birth of my baby, I had been haunted by reoccurring dreams. In the early morning hours, another haunting scene caused me to whimper and thrash in my bed. The
repetitive theme of a crying baby being taken away swirled in my mind. It always ended with my arms outstretched, hot tears, and a searing hole left in my chest.
When Reginald heard me cry aloud, I must have scared the daylights out of him. As I held my face in my hands, weeping, I heard his bed creak as he rose and came to my side. Without asking, he sat down on the edge and gathered me in his arms. His comforting hands stroked my back.
“Bad dream, Isabella. Just a bad dream,” he tenderly assured me.
Perhaps I should have resisted the touch of a male as I sat underneath the covers, but his arms of comfort enfolded me like a warm blanket. The pain in my chest eased, allowing me to take a deep breath again. After pulled gently away, the palm of my hands wiped my tears.
“Monsters in your dreams?” he asked.
I shook my head no. “Mary Jane,” I sniveled. He looked at me cockeyed not understanding my explanation. “My daughter. I named my daughter Mary Jane.” His breath hitched in his throat as if he were surprised at my response.
“You dream of her?”
“Of course I dream of her often but always with the same dream.” My voice trembled replaying the act over in my mind.
“And what dream is that?”
His head tipped to the side as he waited for my answer, but I felt as if it were an invasion of my privacy. I barely knew the man, and speaking of my personal pain did not sit well with me.
“I’d rather not say.” My eyes lowered to my lap, and I rolled my shoulder away in an attempt to convey that I wished the prying to end. My action expressed my wishes, and like a gentleman, he understood my needs. Afterward, he glanced at the clock on the nightstand.
“Well, it appears it’s time to get up anyway,” he said, rising to his feet. “Shall we go through the same routine dressing this morning?”
By the sullen look on his face, I concluded that I must have wounded him in some way by dismissing his inquiry. “Yes, that would work. Why don’t you go first?” My words were firm, wishing to convey that I needed a moment alone. Without protest, he did so, and we readied ourselves for the day ahead.
Chapter Nine
Homeward Bound
We traveled across the channel to Dover on the ferry and boarded the train back to London. As we settled into our seats for the final leg of the trip, Reginald had grown quiet. In retrospect, I realized that I had caused his change in mood. Throughout our journey, I kept one lingering question firmly tucked inside. Even though I knew it to be prying on my part, I turned toward him.
“Do you have any children?” My stomach tightened anticipating his response. He slowly turned his head and gazed at me for some time before responding.
“Yes. I have one child, who was born before my wife passed away.”
Reginald paused as if he struggled to continue. Anticipating more information, I felt slighted that he failed to elaborate. He gave no indication of the age or gender of the child nor who cared for him or her while he had been in France. After a few moments had passed, I noticed the former sadness in his eyes return. My inquiry perhaps had resurrected the sorrow of the passing of his wife, and I felt sorry for the child who lost a mother.
“I have something to ask you,” he suddenly announced. He reached over and picked up my hand, holding it gently. His thumb rubbed across my flesh back and forth.
“All right, ask,” I replied, wondering if he would bring up Mary Jane.
“Do you think...” He halted and gulped. “Do you think that we might see each other occasionally?”
Taken back by his suggestion, my mouth gaped open in surprise. Even though secretly I had hoped that would be the case, I couldn’t believe he articulated the same desire. I liked Reginald—immensely. Despite our age difference, I felt drawn to him and his kindness.
“Might we clarify that inquiry?” Slyly grinning, I continued. “Are you asking to nurture our acquaintance as a friendship or do you have other objectives in mind?”
He stared at me for some time, and my eyes searched him for an indication. He blinked, then his gaze lowered to my lips. Before I could say another word, Reginald placed his mouth on mine. His touch was tender and his taste sweet. Naturally, I did not protest even when his hand came to the side of my face. He pulled back to observe my reaction and explained himself.
“I know,” he said, “it was cheeky of me to kiss you without asking. Hopefully, that answers your question.”
“Why?” It was the only word that I could think of at the moment. Why did he want to pursue me of all people? I still considered myself ruined and unworthy. “After what I’ve done?” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “By all accounts, I am a fallen woman with an illegitimate child.”
“Well, the only thing that you have done as far as I’m concerned, Isabella, is to capture my fancy.” His finger stroked the side of my cheek. “You have matured and grown into an intriguing young lady.” His hand tightened its grip. “Forget the past and let us see what might be in the future.”
Of course my parents drifted into my mind, spoiling the mood. They could vehemently disapprove of the dalliance. At least Father might, thinking that I deserved better in spite of myself. Mother would no doubt be surprised that anyone found an interest in me at all.
“I would think that I might be a conflict of interest should my father discover our relationship,” I blurted in a worrisome tone.
“Ah, yes, your father. I hadn’t thought about that,” he said, leaning back in his seat and blowing out a puff of air.
“Well, we needn’t speak of it early on.” My heart thumped in my chest afraid that I had just sabotaged his proposition. “Perhaps we could see each other occasionally in secret and see how it progresses.”
He shook his head and scowled. “On second thought, I don’t think that your father would approve of a solicitor courting you, neither would my business partner.”
Afraid that he would change his mind, I suddenly lunged in his direction, not caring who in the railcar witnessed my behavior. When my lips met his mouth, he put his arms around me and drew me closer, kissing me in return. Finally aware of my brash position, I pulled away and glanced at him with a sassy grin.
“Does that answer your question?” I posed.
“Absolutely.”
“Then I shall be delighted to get to know you better, Reginald.”
His hand brushed a stray curl that had fallen into my eyes during my whirl in his direction, and in his eyes I witnessed affection.
We held hands the remainder of the trip, chatting about trivial matters. All the while, my heart fluttered in my chest like an excited butterfly that a man had found interest in me in spite of myself.
Naturally, in the back of my mind, the looming objection from my parents cautioned me not to throw all my emotions into our arrangement at once. I wanted to get to know him and learn more about his child. What if we fell in love and eventually married? Would I then be a stepmother? Would that fill the terrible void in my heart?
As the train drew into the station, I felt a pang of sadness that soon we would part. “When shall I see you again?” my voice inquired anxiously. I wanted to cling to the hope of our next encounter.
“I’m not sure,” he responded. “You may telephone me after you’re settled, and we can arrange a rendezvous.” He pulled out a business card from his wallet. “Here is my office number. I’ve written my home telephone on the reverse side should you wish to call me.”
After taking the card, I flipped it over and saw the penned numbers. “All right, after I’m settled and can find a private moment, I’ll telephone.” The train stopped as I put the card into my purse in a safe place.
We gathered our luggage, hailed a cab, and Reginald escorted me back to Kentwood as he promised. When the motorcar turned up the drive and I saw the house in the distance, anxiety choked my breath. Instead of feeling excited to be home, I felt dread, fearing the unknown. Reginald didn’t notice until the car stopped, and he helped me out, holding my hand.
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“Are you all right?” He shot me a worried glance.
“A bit apprehensive,” I replied. The door swung open, and both my parents stepped outdoors at the same time.
“Reginald,” my father said, walking toward him. “I’m surprised to see you here.” Father shot an alarmed look in my direction.
“Yes, sir. As fate would have it, I happened to be in Lyon visiting my parents and boarded the same train on the return home. Lady Isabella and I crossed paths, and I promised to see her home securely.”
“Well then, thank you for delivering her here safe and sound,” Father replied.
“I will take my leave,” Reginald announced. He set my suitcases down, and the footman scurried out and picked them up.
“Lady Isabella, it’s been a pleasure,” he politely announced, tipping his hat. He showed nothing more than respect in the presence of my parents.
Naturally, I dared not gush over the man but merely nodded my head in deference. “Thank you for your assistance.”
Reginald climbed back into the cab, and I tried not to die a thousand deaths inside, watching him depart. Pulling my attention back to my parents, I flashed a weak grin.
“Father, Mother, it is good to see you.” Mother took a step toward me and eyed me up and down.
“You look well,” she said.
“I am well, thank you.”
“Come in and have a cup of tea and relax from your long trip,” Father suggested. “You can tell us about Switzerland and your schooling.”
Yes, my education. He would judge me for the next few weeks to see if his money had been well spent. Undoubtedly, both of them hoped a lady had returned with intellect and good character. My stomach knotted, and I wished that Reginald would hold me in his arms and tell me all would be well.
Ladies of Disgrace Box Set Page 6