“Is Miss Spencer in?”
The butler appeared taken aback for a moment, before quickly recovering his decorum. “Who may I say is calling, sir?”
“Tell her it is a gentleman who made her acquaintance last evening and was quite taken with her.”
The butler didn’t miss a beat. “Very good, sir. If you’ll just wait here but a moment, I will see if Miss Spencer is in.”
The staid butler shuffled away, and Lucien couldn’t help but wonder at his surprise. Belatedly he realized he’d come empty handed, and wished he’d had the foresight to bring along a gift of some sort. A peace offering if you will.
He leaned against the door, studying his surroundings as he waited. He stood inside an elegantly decorated foyer, though with a faint musty odor that still clung, as though the house had only recently been reopened and aired.
And then he heard her voice, as she approached the foyer from the direction of the back of the house. “Thomas, you must be mistaken. You know I never receive gentlemen callers. Are you sure it’s not a gentleman come looking for Izzy?” Her voice was hushed.
“I’m not mistaken, little miss. My eyesight might be shot, but I still have my hearing, despite what the missus would tell you.”
The butler’s words might be construed as extremely insubordinate, if the note of affection in the tone wasn’t so clear. A smile pulled at Lucien’s lips. It said much about a woman who held the loyalty of her staff. And also solved the mystery of the old man’s surprise. So, Miss Spencer didn’t often receive gentlemen callers? Interesting.
“I’m telling you, Thomas-” her voice trailed off abruptly as she clapped eyes upon him standing in the foyer. “You!”
Lucien couldn’t prevent a grin from slipping out as he straightened himself from the wall. Not one for formalities was his Belinda, apparently.
His Belinda? Hell, where had that thought come from?
“It’s a pleasure to see you again as well, Miss Spencer.” He bowed slightly, using the opportunity as he righted himself to study her. She looked much different than she had at court where she’d been done up in all her finery. Mousy wasn’t quite the word he’d choose to describe her. Nondescript seemed more apt, the way she stood before him now, with her dark blonde hair pulled back severely, and a book held loosely in her hand, as if she’d meant only to come to the door to prove the caller wasn’t for her, then return to her reading. Her prim, pale blue day gown covered her from neck to ankle, leaving everything to the imagination.
But he’d held her in his arms for the briefest of moments on that terrace, and his imagination needed no urging to supply him with the memory of the curves hidden beneath her plain clothing.
She was frowning. From his observance last evening and the two minutes he’d been in her presence today, she did that a lot. It brought out an urge in him to make her smile.
Which was all so very intriguing. Frowning, nondescript women were not the type to attract his notice.
“Tsk tsk, Miss Spencer. If this is the way you treat all your visitors, it’s no wonder you receive so few.”
Her cheeks pinkened as it dawned on her he’d overheard her comment to her butler. Amused, he watched her struggle to bring her ire under control. Ah, she was so much fun to tease!
“What is it I can do for you, Lord Lucien?”
He nodded toward a parlor situated off the foyer. “May we speak for a moment?”
Her brow crinkled in confusion, but she nodded anyway, leading him into the room. She took a seat, sitting gingerly on the edge, waiting for him to speak.
He grew serious. “I’m afraid the tidings I bring are not good ones.” Worry immediately leapt into her eyes. She had such an expressive face. Had he really thought her nondescript? Upon close examination in the well-lit parlor, he revised his opinion. Her features were what might be described as unusual. Her cheekbones were very high and narrow, her eyes almond shaped, slanted upwards at the corners, their blue color reminding him almost of a Siamese cat, though thankfully without the cross-eyed effect. Her nose too, was narrow, dusted with freckles, but the end tipped up in an adorable manner. Her bow shaped lips, a pearly pink hue, rested above a chin that was almost too wide within her narrow face, yet had the most arresting cleft in the middle. No, she wasn’t plain, though nor was she beautiful. His mind sought about for some word to describe her. Exotic. Yes, her features were very exotic.
“As we hardly know one another, your statement is very disturbing. Please, tell me of these tidings you speak of.”
Her voice jolted him back to the reason for the visit. “I’m afraid things have gone terribly amiss between Ram and Izzy.”
“Did something happen to Izzy? Is she alright?” Gone was the demure and distant hostess. In her place was a concerned woman, who dropped all pretenses at the possibility her cousin might be in trouble. His opinion of her rose another notch.
She leaned forward, agitated. “I saw her not very long ago and she was so happy. What happened?”
“While Izzy was here with you, your friend, Paul Huntley, called on Ram.”
She frowned, rolling her eyes at the same time. “He is not my friend, as you well know. And, oh dear, if Paul came to see Ram, he could only have trouble in mind. What did he do?”
“He’s trying to blackmail Ram.”
“Oh dear,” she whispered again. “But what has that to do with Izzy?”
Lucien studied her closely, wondering how much she knew about Ram’s royalist sympathies. But her eyes were wide and guileless as she waited on him to continue. “The information he threatened to reveal was told to him by Izzy. Ram believes Izzy asked for Paul’s help to attain an annulment.”
Belinda clamped a hand over her mouth in horror, eyes widening even more. Slowly, she lowered the hand. “Ram thinks Paul blackmailed him at Izzy’s request?”
He nodded.
“But Izzy doesn’t want an annulment. She loves Ram.”
Lucien nodded again. “I agreed with Ram at first to the contrary, but having spoken with your cousin I’m inclined to agree with you. She didn’t ask Paul to do this for her, though she did supply him with the information.”
“If she did, her intention was never for this purpose. She has misplaced faith in him. Is she all right?”
Misplaced faith was an understatement. He shook his head. “Ram told her the marriage is over. He’s asked her to leave the house. She’s devastated, of course. Which is why I’ve come here to see you, as I think you ought to go to her. She needs you. I’m going to try to find Ram and see if I can get him to cool down enough to at least be in the same room with her.”
“You don’t sound very optimistic.”
“Your cousin seems to have a blind spot when it comes to Paul Huntley. She believes he meant no harm, and in fact was only trying to help her by his actions. Unless you can keep her from defending what Huntley did, I don’t think anything will convince Ram of her feelings for him.”
“Yes, of course.” She stood from the chair in an angry, yet controlled gesture, and began to pace. “Paul has always been a rat, but I never imagined his perfidy would lead him down the path of blackmail.”
“Any man who would force an unwilling woman holds little reservations and no scruples when it comes to any sort of behavior that might gain him what he most desires.”
At the quiet reminder of what had occurred on the balcony, she stopped pacing and turned to face him. A faint blush stained her cheeks. “You’re right.” Suddenly she seemed shy, her eyes downcast as she concentrated on the fingers she twisted together before her. “And I never did thank you properly for your help last evening.”
Treading on silent feet to stand before her, he placed his hand beneath her chin and gently raised her face to look into her luminous eyes. “There’s no need to thank me. And I apologize for acting like a cad once Huntley was gone. I merely saved you from one situation only to plunge you into a similar one.”
“Nay!” her denial came quickly. �
�It wasn’t nearly the same!”
As though realizing what she just admitted, her color heightened again.
Struggling to hide his amusement, he cupped her cheek in his palm. “Please, call me Lucien.”
She nodded uncertainly. “I am very grateful for your help, Lucien.”
“It was my pleasure.” His voice took on a husky tone, unable to stop his thoughts from reviving the memory of the kiss they’d shared. His thumb rubbed over the ridge of her cheek.
For one moment they stood there, a scant breath apart. So close to her, he could see the translucent blue lines that ran beneath her eyelids, see the dark blonde lashes that dusted her cheeks as her eyes drifted closed. She was ripe for kissing, and he fought every desire in his body to lean in and steal a kiss. He would meet with no resistance.
But for once, common sense prevailed. Izzy and Ram needed their interference. Now was not the time to woo a shy maiden.
Removing his hand from her cheek, he took a step back, creating an invisible barrier of safety between them. “Shall I take you to Ram’s? I believe Izzy might still be there.”
Belinda seemed to snap out of the trance that had formed around them. She retreated a step as she contemplated his offer, but shook her head. She seemed almost disheartened to tell him nay, and that was absurdly pleasing.
“I should remain here in case she comes here. If she doesn’t return in a reasonable amount of time, I shall take the carriage and go after her.”
“Your idea has merit. And you know your cousin best.” meritorious her idea may be, but it would have been nice to have gotten her alone for a while in his carriage. He sighed in resignation. “Let’s see if we can’t fix what our friends are too stubborn to do for themselves, shall we?” he announced in a cheery voice.
“Belinda, it’s been a pleasure,” he took her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. The little gasp that escaped her lips was so innocent it instantly aroused him. What an intriguing creature Miss Spencer was. “I hope we’ll see one another again, under more pleasurable circumstances.”
A pink blush covered her face, and he was enchanted. Most of the women he knew had long ago lost the ability to blush.
“Good day, Lucien.” She whispered.
Leaving was more difficult than he’d have ever expected.
Chapter 27
Ram returned home in an even fouler mood than when he’d left, if that was at all possible. He’d accomplished nothing at court, and there was no one to lay the blame with for that. White Hall was in a state of mourning and pandemonium. Mourning because the King’s sister, Mary, Princess of Orange, visiting from Holland, had succumbed to smallpox during the night. And pandemonium reigned, because fear of contagion was fast spreading throughout the court and courtiers were making arrangements in haste to flee to their homes outside of London, in the hopes of avoiding the dreaded disease.
He’d spoken with Charles only briefly and then only to express his sympathies over the loss of his beloved sister. The King had remained by her side to the end, nursing her. Some thought it was the height of bravery, but Ram knew that Charles, like himself, had been exposed to Smallpox as a youngster and stood no danger of becoming infected.
Christ. Izzy had turned him into a pessimist.
Nursing his sister himself showed his dedication and love for her. Charles was devastated; it was neither the time to make requests nor ask for favors. Not while Charles dealt with the sobering reality that while being King meant he had everything he could ever need at his beck and call, he still held no control over the forces of nature. It had only been months since he’d lost his beloved brother Henry, Duke of Gloucester, also to smallpox. The loss of the Princess was a double blow. Death respected neither royalty nor nobility, and for the young king it was a bitter pill to swallow.
The annulment would have to wait, a reality that didn’t sit well with Ram. In fact, he’d been in such a rank mood when he’d left White Hall, he’d made a rare stop at a pub to drown his misery with some liquor and the cheerful company of the publican.
It hadn’t helped.
Making his way home, he’d been grateful at least he wouldn’t have to deal with Izzy’s presence. He’d been gone long enough, she should have had ample opportunity to remove her belongings to her father’s house, or wherever it was she would be decide to stay. And he was getting good at pretending he didn’t care where she went, even as part of him braced for the eventuality she’d soon be set up in a fine house by Huntley, the same way Ram had set up houses for the mistresses of his past.
Dexter was conspicuously absent when Ram arrived home, which set off internal alarm bells. The butler never missed greeting him at the door.
The house was shrouded in an almost unholy silence, as if all the living creatures within had taken shelter from some danger into the deepest bowels of the house. Frowning, he made his way up the stairs and toward his bedchamber.
He stopped short on the threshold.
Izzy was asleep in the bed. And not just in the bed, on his side of the bed, her arms wrapped tightly about his pillow.
No wonder the servants had made themselves scarce. They knew he’d be livid upon finding her thus.
And he was.
It wasn’t enough for the woman to betray him, and possibly cuckold him as well. She was intent on wreaking havoc with his emotions, and he’d had more than enough.
Striding angrily to the foot of the bed, he grasped the coverlet and yanked it roughly from her sleeping form. Denied the warmth she’d been snuggling into in her slumber, she awoke, looking around in confusion before settling her gaze upon him.
“Ram. You’re home.” There was no censure in her voice, but from her tone it was clear she’d waited on him for quite some time.
“What the hell are you doing here, Isabelle? I know I made my feelings about you presence here perfectly clear!”
She blinked. “I— we need— I wanted to talk to you. Now that you aren’t so angry”
“I know I also made it profusely clear I was done talking to you about anything. And I’m still abundantly furious. I’ve just come from Court where I saw the King. He’s agreed to help me.” He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing his objective had been frustrated that day. He would get his annulment, no matter how much it cost or how long the wait.
Some emotion he couldn’t name flickered in her eyes, but he would not convince himself it was grief.
“Nor do I have time to talk to you, even if I had the least desire to do so.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m seeing Louisa this evening,” he lied.
He heard the sharp breath she sucked in.
“Oh.”
This time there was no mistaking the hurt that flared brightly in her eyes. Her shoulders slumped and all the wind seemed to go out of her. She stared at her lap, a look of defeat on her face.
Petty though it might be, hurting her filled him with a savage satisfaction in light of the pain she’d caused him. “State what you came to say and then get the hell out, Isabelle.”
She swallowed hard. “Don’t do this, Ram! Please don’t go to her. I-I can’t bear it.”
“You’re making demands of me now? You lost that right when you betrayed me for your precious Paul!” Her audacity was astounding. Mind boggling, even. “You can’t bear it? Why, Isabelle? Because then she’ll know the truth and soon everyone at court will know it too? That what you told her last night was an utter lie and that I regret marrying you more than I’ve ever regretted anything in my entire life? I don’t care if you’re humiliated before the entire world!” He struggled to control his fury. “You reap what you sow, and you’ll just have to learn to live with it, I’m afraid. As far as I’m concerned our sham of a marriage is over, the annulment only a formality. I owe you neither consideration nor fidelity. I owe you nothing.”
She flinched and went pale. “I-I couldn’t bear it because I don’t want our marriage annulled, Ramsay.” Her voice was husky. “I can’t bear t
o think of you in her bed.” A single tear rolled down her cheek.
His fists clenched at his side. He studied her for a tense moment, trying to decipher what she was scheming for this time. She slowly righted herself in the bed and against his better judgment he took notice that although she wore her gown, she’d removed her stockings and shoes before lying down.
He tore his gaze from her legs and returned it to her face. “You made good use of the time I was gone, I see.”
“What?”
“Let me make a wild guess. You also went to White Hall. And you found Huntley, who told you he had no interest in marrying you and that his sole interest lay in padding his coffers?”
“What? Ram, nay”-
“And then I’m guessing you went on to see your father, who made it clear you are unwelcome back in his home. So you’ve returned here because you have no place else to go. Is my assessment correct? Does that about sum it all up?”
“Your assessment is ridiculous.” A spark of the Izzy he knew best made an appearance with her angry declaration. “I haven’t left the house since you stormed out earlier today.”
He snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. He’d play her game for a little while and discover just what she was after. “So why then do you suddenly wish to remain married to me so badly?”
Her gaze dropped to her fingers, which were twisting the hem of her gown. He watched her chest rise as she sucked in a breath and then lifted her face. Her eyes swam with tears that didn’t fall. God, she had a flare for theatrics.
“Because, I love you.”
Admiration fled as emotion hit him like a punch to the gut. And with it came a fury more potent than he’d ever felt, that she would play with him this way. Did she truly expect him to believe that, now? His bloodied heart couldn’t take anymore of her callousness or her lies. She just proved beyond any doubt that she was more than willing to say anything necessary to gain what she desired.
“That’s too bad, isn’t it, for I don’t love you, Isabelle, not one God damned bit. Nor do I want you as my wife any longer.”
Virtue and Vice Page 29