Pulling herself away from Adeline, as though she must finish her tale of horror, Lettie put her face into her hands with shame. ‘I—I know someone who knows a doctor who will do it. He—he’s fully qualified—in open practice—so it will be quite safe. I have been assured it will be no brutal kitchen surgery of a back street abortionist.’
What Lettie was saying was impossible—too hideous for Adeline’s mind to grasp. Absolutely horrified, she reached out and gripped Lettie’s arms, forcing her to look at her, unaware that her own cheeks were wet with tears of pity and compassion for her friend. ‘Lettie. Lettie, my dear, dear friend, listen to me.’ Lettie looked at her, and the pain in her eyes was frightening. ‘You must promise me that you will not do that. It is wrong—so very, very wrong—and you could die. I will help you, I swear I will, but you must not abort your child. Oh, dear God, Lettie, I cannot bear the thought of it.’
‘But I am desperate, Adeline—and in these matters I find myself as ignorant as the most wretched servant girl. The option of an abortion is more acceptable than an unwanted pregnancy—than bearing his child.’
Adeline regarded everything that Lettie said with particular horror. ‘Lettie, this is a baby you are talking about. A baby.’
‘It isn’t,’ she said fiercely. ‘I can’t think of it as that. It’s a monster, and I want to tear it out of me with my bare hands.’ In desperation she looked around the room. She made a vague gesture. ‘If only there was some medicine—quinine, or mercury, or some such thing—something I could take.’
‘No, Lettie. There isn’t—and anyway I won’t let you.’
Lettie bowed her head. ‘How can I tell my mother? Have you any idea what this will do to her? Can you tell me that—and Grant? He’ll kill me. I’m not proud of myself. I—could kill myself,’ she said quietly to herself.
‘Lettie Leighton! Don’t you dare talk like that. Please. You terrify me. You will find a way to get through this. I’ll help you. Now it’s happened you must brave it out.’
‘I don’t know how I can do that.’
‘You will, Lettie. Don’t be afraid. Now,’ she said, standing up, ‘I think the sensible thing for you to do is to stay here tonight. I’ll have Mrs Kelsall prepare a room, and I’ll send word to Lady Stanfield so that she doesn’t worry.’
Lettie stood up quickly. ‘No, I must go back. The carriage is outside.’ She gave Adeline a wobbly smile. ‘Don’t worry about me. Now that I’ve told you I do feel a bit better. I’ll plead a headache and have an early night.’ Lettie looked into Adeline’s eyes and wondered for a moment how they could be so warm and loving after she had listened to the shocking and unbelievable things she had just heard. ‘I’m sorry to burden you with this. Do you hate me, Adeline?’
‘Hate you?’ Adeline placed a comforting hand against Lettie’s tear-drenched cheek. ‘You must never think that, Lettie. Ever. Our friendship is as steadfast now as it has ever been—undiminished by the knowledge of what Jack Cunningham has done to you. We have to work out what is to be done—and we will do that together.’
Taking Lettie’s hand, Adeline accompanied her out into the empty hall, where she put her arms about her and hugged her, then kissed her on the cheek. ‘Come and see me in the morning, Lettie—and promise me you won’t do anything rash.’
‘I promise,’ she said huskily. ‘I know I can trust you not to speak of this to anyone, Adeline.’
Adeline opened the door to find a light mist had settled over the street. It smelled of soot. Streetlights along the pavement made small pools of ragged light. She watched Lettie walk steadily towards the carriage, her back straight, her head held high, and was suddenly struck by the clamped expression of determination on her face. She looked as though walking across the pavement to the carriage was a goal of such enormity and distance it would take all her strength to reach it.
As Adeline brooded over Lettie’s sickening plight—for sickening it was to anyone who knew Lettie—she felt more and more depressed, and so concerned for her friend that she was unable to sleep or concentrate on anything else. It had been bad enough when Lettie had told her she was seeing Jack Cunningham, but this was a situation of such magnitude she didn’t know how to deal with it.
Lettie had come to her in an act of trust, so one thing she did decide on was not to confide in Grant. She would support and help Lettie in any way she could, but it was up to Lettie to tell her family, when she felt ready and strong enough to do that. But what on earth could have happened to turn Lettie against Jack Cunningham in the space of forty-eight hours?
She remembered she had promised Grant she would ride with him at six in the morning, and as much as she wanted to see him she wished she hadn’t. It would be awkward being in his company, knowing what she did about Lettie.
Daylight had broken when Adeline trotted towards Hyde Park. The sky was dull and overcast, threatening rain later, but it didn’t dampen her spirits for the ride. On reaching the corner of Park Lane she felt a thrill of delight to find Grant already waiting for her, mounted on a tall bay gelding, his muscular thighs clamped to the horse’s sides.
She was attired in a green velvet riding habit the same colour as her eyes, which fitted her slender form like a glove, with the heavy mass of her hair anchored beneath a jaunty matching hat. Grant watched her ride towards him, feeling a familiar quickening in his veins. He wasn’t surprised to see she was riding side-saddle, with no sign of breeches beneath her habit. No doubt when she was in town she felt she had to bow to protocol rather than risk a scandal by riding astride and wearing men’s breeches. The bay shifted restlessly and he tightened his hands on the reins.
Telling her accompanying groom to wait for her, Adeline joined Grant. He was hatless, and wearing a conventional frock coat, light trousers and tan riding boots. His gaze was unnervingly acute.
‘Good morning,’ he greeted her. Noting how pale and strained her face was, and the purple smudges beneath her eyes, he frowned. Narrowing his eyes, he locked them on hers. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Yes, everything’s fine,’ she replied, forcing a smile to her lips and looking away to avoid his searching gaze. ‘I’m just a bit tired, that’s all. I didn’t sleep very well.’
‘Then perhaps a ride to clear your head is just what you need.’
‘I hope so.’ In no mood for conversation, she gestured towards the park, eager to get on. ‘Shall we go?’
‘We’ll head for the Row. The track will have been prepared for galloping.’
The park was deserted as they rode over the soft green turf.
‘Does your father ride when he’s in town,’ Grant asked, for something to say to break the silence between them.
‘No. Riding is not one of his interests.’
‘Unlike his daughter. I’m surprised he’s allowing you to spend so much time in town alone.’
‘So am I. He’s not usually so amiable. When Lettie wrote asking me to come to London I was amazed at how easy it was for me to persuade him.’
‘Maybe it was because he has invited my mother to spend a few days at Rosehill.’
Adeline looked at him in amazement. ‘He has?’
Grant nodded.
‘When?’
‘About now.’
‘Goodness! I had no idea. And I do find it rather odd. Whenever he’s expecting guests he always needs me to take care of everything.’
‘I’m sure you have a perfectly capable housekeeper to do that. And besides, maybe he wanted to have my mother to himself.’
Adeline looked at him sharply. ‘And are you happy with that? At Oaklands you gave me the impression that you did not approve of them becoming too friendly.’
‘I’ve changed my mind. If my mother is happy, then I shall be happy for her.’
Having reached the track, both horses tossed their heads, tugging at the reins, eager for a run. They let them go. With the heavy pounding of horses’ hooves beneath them they rode neck and neck, flying past St George’s hospital an
d the statue of the Duke of Wellington behind the trees. The sky was peppered with waking birds, but the two riders were too preoccupied with their ride even to notice them. Adeline was exhilarated. The blood flowed fast in her veins, her heart pounded and her skin tingled, and for a while the burden of Lettie’s situation was lifted. Grant was right. The ride was just what she needed.
Grant gave his horse a flick with his crop, urging him to a faster pace and pulling away from Adeline by a couple of lengths. Looking back, his hair dishevelled, his coat flapping behind him and his bent arms moving up and down like birds’ wings, he grinned back at her and she laughed at him, her teeth gleaming white in her rosy face.
‘I’ll catch you,’ she shouted. ‘I swear I will.’
‘How much would you like to bet? A kiss?’
The redness in her cheeks deepened, but, goaded by the mocking amusement in his voice, she snatched up the gauntlet of the challenge. ‘Done.’
But it was no good. With the promise of a kiss at the end of the race, Grant showed no sign of slowing down—not until they neared the end of the track and he eased his horse to a canter, beating Adeline by a length. Knowing she was beaten, and would have to suffer the consequences, Adeline dropped her horse to a walk and went towards where he was waiting.
Waiting in anticipation for her to offer him her lips, Grant couldn’t take his eyes off her. The ride had tinted her face a delicate pink, and he knew that when he touched her mouth he would feel the warmth of her blood coursing beneath her flesh.
‘I won,’ he declared.
‘That’s hardly fair. You were already well ahead when you issued the challenge.’
‘And that’s a feeble excuse if ever I heard one, Miss Osborne. Are you reneging on our wager?’
‘No,’ she replied, eyeing him warily.
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Turning his head, he looked towards a group of trees, smiled wickedly, and then looked back at her with narrowed eyes.
‘Prepare to pay your forfeit, Miss Osborne. Pray follow me. When I claim my reward I have no wish to have the whole of London gawping at me.’
On reaching the seclusion of the trees, knowing there was no escape, with a pounding heart Adeline nudged her horse close to his, intending to give him nothing more than a peck on the cheek. But she should have known that Grant Leighton would be satisfied with nothing less than a full-blown kiss.
He leaned across to her, and instead of drawing away she shyly met him halfway. With his face just two inches from hers, for a moment his eyes held hers, and then, taking her chin gently in his fingers, he let his gaze drop to her lips. Gradually his head moved closer and his lips brushed hers, undemanding, caressing tenderly, as if testing her resilience. Then with the confidence of a sure welcome they settled over hers, becoming firm as he turned his considerable talents to savouring their luscious softness.
The contact was like an exquisite explosion somewhere deep inside Adeline. The kiss deepened, and her lips were moulded and sensually shaped to his. She felt that kiss in every inch of her body. In response, warm heat ignited and radiated through her flesh. Jolt after jolt of wild, familiar sensation pulsated through her. He parted her lips, his tongue teasing and tormenting, sinking into the haven of sweetness and claiming it for his own.
The kiss ended when Grant’s horse shifted slightly and they were forced to draw apart. Adeline gazed at his face, at the harsh set lines, seeing the evidence of desire ruthlessly controlled. She wasn’t ignorant of his state—had she not seen it once before? Almost kissed into insensibility, she watched his smouldering gaze lift from her lips to her eyes, and then his firm lips curved in a smile and he drew back.
‘If we don’t stop now I swear I will dismount, drag you from your horse and into those bushes and make love to you—which I have wanted to do ever since our first encounter—to discover what I missed, you understand. So, while I would like to experience more, I will press you no further. The time is not right. Others will soon be arriving in the park and I fear we will be caught out. I live in hope that there will be other times when I will hold you closer and for much longer, Adeline. But now we’ll ride at a leisurely pace back down the track, and I shall hand you over to your groom.’
‘When will you see Lettie?’ Adeline dared to ask, not looking at him lest he saw the guilty secret in her eyes.
‘I shall return to the hotel and have breakfast, and then I intend calling on her before she disappears to one of her meetings.’
Not until she had left him and was riding back to Eaton Place did what he had said hit Adeline—he intended further intimacies in the future to satiate his desire. Her face burned. How could she have forgotten that only the day before last she had vowed not to become one of his flirtations? How could she have forgotten how utterly amoral he was, and how supremely conceited?
But his kiss, the feel of his lips on hers, the way her body had reacted, the sensations she had felt, made her want, yearn, for what she knew he could give her.
When Lettie didn’t call at Eaton Place that same morning, Adeline, deeply concerned about her, and wondering how her meeting had gone with Grant, went to Upper Belgrave Street—only to be told by Lady Stanfield that Lettie was visiting a sick friend and wasn’t expected back until evening. When Adeline asked if Grant had called to see his sister earlier in the day, she was disappointed and angry to be told he hadn’t.
After spending some time with Marjorie, talking about her impending engagement party, for which preparations were going on in earnest, still feeling tense and upset because she hadn’t seen Lettie, Adeline returned home. She felt as though she were sitting on a volcano, and in awful suspense as she waited for something to happen.
It was shortly after nine o’clock when a cab arrived at the house with Lettie. Mrs Kelsall opened the door to her, and Adeline met her in the hall.
Lettie just stood and stared at Adeline. She looked ghastly—like death. Her face was as white as parchment, her eyes leaden and as colourless as the sea on a dull day. After a moment, as if she couldn’t bear to look at Adeline any longer, she hung her head as though in the deepest shame.
That was the moment Adeline knew what she had done. Something inside her lurched in terror. Why, she didn’t know, for surely the worst had happened? Nausea rose in her throat. Oh, dear, sweet Jesus, her mind whispered, what had they done to her? Concern for her friend came to the fore and propelled her across the floor.
‘Lettie,’ she whispered, taking her cold, trembling hand and placing her arm about her shoulders.
Mrs Kelsall hovered and stared, not knowing what to do. Adeline looked at her. ‘As you can see, Mrs Kelsall, Miss Leighton isn’t well. Prepare a room for her, will you? And have someone go to Lady Stanfield and inform her that she is staying here with me tonight. Tell her she is not to worry. Some tea would be welcome. We’ll be in the drawing room.’ She turned her attention to Lettie. ‘Come, Lettie. Come and sit by the fire, and when Mrs Kelsall has prepared a room I’ll take you upstairs.’
Lettie’s movements were wooden as she let Adeline lead her into the drawing room and sit her in a chair close to the fire, where she began to tremble uncontrollably. One of the maids brought in a tray of tea things. Adeline poured, and held a cup to Lettie’s frozen lips. But she shook her head and turned it away. Kneeling beside her, Adeline took her hand where it lay in her lap.
‘Lettie, please speak to me. I know what you’ve done—and, oh, my dear, I am not angry, but I am concerned. Are you in pain?’
Swallowing hard, Lettie nodded, her eyes swimming with tears. Her lips moved in reply, but Adeline could not catch what she said.
‘What is it, Lettie?’ she asked, leaning closer. ‘What did you say?’
This time she did hear the words.
‘The baby…’ Lettie’s throat was so tight the words were forced out.
Trying to keep her voice from shattering with the sorrow she felt, Adeline drew a long breath and said, ‘I’m really sorry you had to resort to th
is, Lettie. I really am.’ Her eyes, too, filled with tears, and all she could do was hold Lettie’s hand tighter.
‘Please forgive me, Adeline,’ she whispered.
‘It is not for me to forgive,’ Adeline answered quietly. ‘Everything’s going to be all right. Don’t worry any more. But you look most ill, Lettie. I must send for a doctor to take a look at you.’
Lettie’s look was frantic, and she gripped Adeline’s hand with remarkable strength. ‘No—please—please no,’ she whispered raggedly. ‘It’s a doctor who did this to me. No more, Adeline. No more. I can’t take it. It’s done—over—and I thank God for the release.’
The door opened and Mrs Kelsall appeared. ‘The room is ready, Miss Adeline. The fire is lit.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Kelsall. I’ll take Lettie up.’
‘Can I—be of help?’
‘Thank you, but I think we can manage.’
Somehow Adeline managed to get Lettie up the stairs and into the bedroom where, like a child, she let Adeline and Emma undress her and put her in one of Adeline’s nightgowns of fine embroidered cambric. After unpinning Lettie’s hair and sponging her face, Adeline laid her in the bed. Immediately Lettie lay on her side, with her back to Adeline. Closing her eyes, she drew her knees up to her chest and began to whimper.
Telling Emma she could manage, and sending her to bed, Adeline sat beside the bed and began a silent vigil, hoping and praying that Lettie was going to be all right. She was breathing heavily, and sweat stood out on her skin.
The pain got worse during the night, and she began complaining of the heat and throwing off the covers. Becoming more and more concerned, Adeline touched Lettie’s head, then wrung out a cloth in a dish of water and placed it on her brow. After another couple of hours Lettie began shivering and moaning, almost senseless, tossing her head from side to side, her fingers plucking at the bedcovers.
That was when Adeline, in desperation, wrote a note to Grant. She sent one of the servants with it in the carriage, to the Charing Cross Hotel, asking him to come immediately and—even though she knew Lettie would reproach her for it—to bring a doctor.
Wicked Pleasures Page 17