“And how do you propose to” — he cleared his throat — “live it, ma’am?”
“First of all…” She paused and glanced around the overly masculine room. “This is my home now and I intend to make it mine. Each and every room. I have made a list.” She stepped to the bed, picked up her sketchpad and scanned the neatly written words. “I want you to send for cabinet makers. While the furniture in here is of excellent quality, it is far too heavy and entirely too ancient for modern sensibilities. I also wish to see fabrics for bedcoverings and drapes and curtains and upholstery and carpets and, oh, yes, selections of wallpapers and paint.” She looked up at him. “Have I forgotten anything?”
He had the oddest look in his eye, like that of a cornered woodland creature, but his expression was unruffled. “It does not appear so, ma’am.”
“Come along, then, Gordon, we have a great deal to do.” She beamed at him and started toward the door.
“We shall go room to room and make notes on changes I want made. I want this to be my house, but I don’t wish to turn it into an overly feminine enclave. I have never been keen on flourishes and florals, although I have frankly never had much say in my surroundings. I daresay you shall be of great assistance to me, from a masculine perspective, that is, and I shall greatly value your opinion.” She pulled up short and whirled around. He paused in midstep a few paces behind her. “I do hope you won’t hesitate to be completely honest with me.”
“I shall do my best, ma’am.” His voice was collected, but behind his spectacles, the look in his eyes was distinctly uneasy.
“Come, now, Gordon.” She grinned. “It shan’t be that bad. In truth, I see it as great fun. Oh, not an actual adventure, of course, but something to occupy my time in the coming months.” She turned and again started toward the door. “I shall have a great deal of time on my hands and I think it’s best to put it to productive use.”
“I take it your revelation involves household furnishings, my lady?”
“That’s just the beginning, Gordon.” Again she stopped and swiveled toward him, turning so quickly he nearly walked into her. At once she noted the butler was substantially taller than she’d realized and the oddest thought flashed through her mind that he must have been quite an attractive man in his youth. He immediately stepped back and she pushed the disquieting idea away.
“No, Gordon, my revelation has to do with the nature of my new life as well as the nature of my late husband.” She pulled her brows together. “You see, I did not know Lord Wilmont well enough to have married him and in that I have already admitted my mistake. Much of his character was known to me only through his reputation and, in truth, I disregarded that as nothing more than rumor and gossip. He was dashing and charming and I quite thought we shared a certain amount of affection. At least before we were wed. Afterwards…” She shook her head and thrust the memories of her brief marriage aside.
“Suffice it to say, the man I knew before we married is the memory I will retain, and that gentleman would not have wanted me to pine away through mourning that is more a show for propriety’s sake than anything else. The Charles who captured my” — she searched for the right word — “hand was known for reckless behavior and squandering his fortune and his exploits with women. While I have no intention of following the example he set entirely, I shall spend his money — my money — in whatever manner I see fit. I am quite certain he would approve, and until he comes back from the grave to tell me otherwise I shall conduct myself under that assumption.”
“I see.” Gordon studied her for a moment. “May I speak freely?”
“Please do.”
“I wish to inquire, then, ma’am, as to precisely how closely do you intend to follow his example? This refurbishing you propose strikes me as neither improper nor scandalous, although there may well be talk about a newly wealthy widow freely spending her deceased husband’s wealth —”
“Do you know what they call women who marry for money in this day and age, Gordon?”
“I wouldn’t hazard to say,” he said in a lofty manner.
“They call her clever.” She cast him a quick grin, then shrugged. “Although I had no idea of my husband’s worth. And, between my dowry and my own expectations from my family, I had no need of his wealth. Given that, I doubt if anyone would consider me especially clever, but his money has made me independent.” She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “You have more to say, don’t you, Gordon?”
“I was merely wondering, ma’am, do your intentions toward your new life involve activity of a more scandalous nature? I should point out there are certain rules regarding mourning and the behavior of widows, indeed of all women, that society does not take the breaking of lightly.”
“I am well aware of that and I’m not entirely certain that I care. I have lived my life thus far according to the rules of propriety, at least until recently. It seems rather a pity to turn back now.” She hugged the sketchpad to her chest and leaned against the open doorframe. “However, honesty demands I confess that my thoughts have not gone considerably beyond this house. I have been a widow far longer than I was a wife and I plan on fulfilling the latter role considerably better than I did the former. But I shall do that according to no one’s standards save my own.”
She straightened and met his gaze head-on. “At the moment, I don’t know precisely what I intend, but if I have learned nothing else in the past months or so, I have learned I have a longing for adventure and excitement I never suspected. Charles has given me the means to pursue both.
“I am embarking on a grand adventure, Gordon, the adventure of the rest of my life.” She paused. “At the very least I shall need a stable household in order to do that. If I have offended your sensibilities, if indeed you do not feel at ease with what might well be a rather unusual circumstance, I will certainly accept your resignation and send you on your way with a sizable severance and excellent recommendations.”
Gordon stared, obviously shocked, and Delia pushed aside a twinge of guilt. She had no desire to sack the elderly servant. In truth, she found his presence a comfort, his quiet dignity reassuring. Yet from this moment forth, she would accept whatever criticism came from without, but she would not tolerate disapproval within her own home.
“I shall remain here as long as you wish, my lady,” he said staunchly. “On one condition.”
She raised a brow. “A condition, Gordon?”
“You said I may speak freely.”
“And I meant it. Go on.”
“Since I have been in your employ, you have on occasion mentioned that you value my experience and counsel and whatever wisdom I may have accrued during my long years.”
“Indeed, I meant that as well.”
“Very well. My condition is simply that you continue to allow me to speak my mind, and furthermore that you heed any advice I may offer in your best interests.”
She laughed. “I accept wholeheartedly the first part of your condition. As for the second, I will agree to listen to your advice and give it my complete consideration, but I will not promise to blindly follow it.” She leaned toward him and met his gaze directly. “I must live my life as I see fit, Gordon, and I daresay I shall make any number of mistakes, but I must be free to make them. Would you deny me that?”
“I would deny you anything that would make you unhappy or cause you harm, my lady,” he said without hesitation.
A flush of warm affection for this old man surged through her. What a dear he was. “Thank you, Gordon. Will you stay in my employ, then?”
“For as long as I can be of service.” There was an odd intensity in his tone she attributed to loyalty. She had indeed done well to hire him.
“Excellent. Now then, if there is nothing else —”
“There is, my lady.” He held a note in his hand she hadn’t noticed. “This arrived a few minutes ago.”
She handed him the sketchpad, took the note eagerly and unfolded it. “It’s from my sister.”
My Dear Delia,
The tide is turning quite nicely. Yesterday, while driving in the park, Lady Beaton and her daughter approached me and requested that I convey their sympathies upon the death of your husband. The younger lady remarked as to how tragically romantic your current circumstances are and her mother was quite sympathetic as well, saying the course of true love can be sadly cut short. These were not the only comments I received during my ride.
I must say I was hard-pressed not to chortle with satisfaction. My plan is working far better and far more quickly than I had hoped. You, dear sister, are fast becoming the symbol of lost love and shall soon surpass Juliet herself. Even Mother seems to be softening, although that may be more attributable to a change in the stars, father’s annoyance at her unyielding attitude and the fact that, while she refuses to admit it, she has missed you.
There is more good news as well. We received a letter from Grandmother insisting you present yourself at Effington Hall by week’s end. The Ride is two days hence and Grandmother’s ball, as always, the next evening. Mother protested, of course — all that mourning business, you know — but she cannot go against Grandmother’s wishes. Grandmother wrote that this is not the time for you to be estranged from your family, and furthermore she wishes to speak to you personally. She is sending her private carriage for you.
I am off to the country today and I shall be eagerly awaiting your arrival.
Until then, I remain affectionately yours,
Cassandra
”Wonderful news, Gordon.” She beamed at the butler. “I am going to the country for a few days at my grandmother’s request.”
“Then all is well with your family, ma’am,” he said cautiously.
“It will be.” A determined note sounded in her voice. Effington Hall was the perfect place to confront her mother. Right or wrong, it was past time Lady William, Georgina, accept that her daughter’s life was her own to live. Or ruin. And the stars be damned. “It most certainly will be.
“The Roxborough Ride is in a few days, Gordon.” She started down the hall, addressing him over her shoulder. “It’s an equestrian competition that my family holds every year. The Ride is quite a test of both horse and rider and as much fun as my grandmother’s ball, always held the next night. I doubt if I’ll compete this year, although perhaps I will.” She swiveled back to him. “Yesterday, I would not even have considered such a thing, but today, I am in a glorious mood and the world is full of possibilities. How is your mood?”
“Cautious, ma’am.”
She laughed. “Of course, it would be.” Once more, she started off. “While I am gone, I should like for you to begin arranging appointments regarding the refurbishing and, oh, yes, we must hire additional servants. I am in dire need of a lady’s maid and I should like an additional maid as well and a footman or two. And do start looking for a good cook. I am frankly desperate for something with flavor.”
She marched to the next room, Gordon a step behind her, jotting notes on her pad or making a quick sketch of a window or piece of furniture, but her thoughts were distracted. Gordon’s question lingered in the back of her mind and she couldn’t quite ignore it.
Do your intentions toward your new life involve activity of a more scandalous nature?
Did they indeed?
She’d meant it when she’d said she hadn’t thought that far. But she’d also meant it when she’d said she would live her life by no one’s standards but her own. And weren’t those standards already questionable? Why, hadn’t she come to Charles’s bed entirely of her own accord? With no expectation of marriage and knowing full well the repercussions of her ruination?
Delia had no desire to marry again. She’d only just tasted independence and quite liked it thus far. She suspected it would only get better.
Precisely how closely do you intend to follow his example?
How closely indeed?
The answer was at once wicked and delicious.
Independence wasn’t the only thing she’d had a taste of. She had rather liked relations with her husband, brief as they had been, and suspected that too could only get better. As she had told her sister, the act of lovemaking had had potential. Great potential. She was fortunate enough not to have become with child from that and she was certain there were ways an experienced woman could avoid such complications. Certainly she was not an experienced woman yet, but in the eyes of the world, her status as a widow assumed her experience.
Perhaps the best way to begin the grand adventure of the rest of her life was to become what the world assumed she already was.
An experienced woman.
Chapter 5
“Blue in here, I should think.”
“Blue would be exceptionally nice, my lady,” Tony murmured, then winced to himself. Blue would be exceptionally nice, indeed. This entire charade was absurd. Ridiculous. And he was in it up to his ass.
“A deep blue, perhaps.” Lady Wilmont stood in the middle of the bedchamber one door down from her husband’s and considered the room thoughtfully. “Not so deep as the night sky, nor as light as the morning, but something more akin to a…a what, Gordon?”
Your eyes, my lady. “The sea, perhaps?”
“The sea, exactly what I was thinking of. Thank you.” She sighed wistfully. “Oh, I do love a nice sea-blue.”
It complements the color of your hair. “May I suggest, ma’am, that you then employ blue in the room you intend to make your own and in here use a pleasant” — he forced the words out — “sunny yellow?”
“Yellow? I hadn’t thought of yellow.” She nodded at the window. “Although there is but one window in here and yellow would brighten it up a great deal. Yellow it is, then.” She flashed him a smile that lit her face as much as any color could ever light a room, then scribbled a note on her pad.
What was he thinking? This sort of thing would only get him deeper in trouble and he was already off his stride.
He’d berated himself ever since he walked into Wilmont’s room and saw the disarray. He should have heard her last night, but his own quarters were in the back of the house on the ground floor. And blast it all, after the long days and nights of sorting Wilmont’s finances he was exhausted. No excuse, really. He should have been on his guard.
“The furniture in this room as well is horribly out of date and…”
Anyone could slip in here unnoticed in the middle of the night. Starting tonight, after she was abed, he would sleep in one of the rooms on this floor.
“…the carpet is quite worn and really unserviceable…”
There had been no incidents, nothing at all unusual since Lady Wilmont had moved in, and it was entirely possibly whoever had searched the house before her return had already found the notebook.
“…and I daresay there is no longer a need for…”
However, if indeed the notebook was still missing, there was also a distinct possibility whoever wanted it would assume she had knowledge of it.
“I think that will do in here for the moment.” She glanced at him. “Have I missed anything?”
“I cannot think of a thing, ma’am.”
She grinned and shook her head. “You are not enjoying this, are you?”
“I can think of nothing I would rather do, my lady,” he said staunchly.
It was only a partial lie. He didn’t find it the least bit taxing to follow her from room to room, her dark skirts swishing provocatively with her walk, although it was difficult to keep his mind on questions regarding anything other than the lush figure those skirts concealed.
“You are not a very good liar, Gordon.” She laughed, laid her hand on his arm and lowered her voice confidentially. “However, I am most appreciative that you are willing to placate me.”
He’d never been particularly enamored of women in black, but black quite suited her. Her pale complexion contrasted with the stark shade and made her appear fragile and vulnerable and altogether exquisite. Her blue eyes were even more inte
nse against the canvas of her porcelain skin and her blond hair glowed with a light of its own. She was far lovelier than he had first thought. Was this what Wilmont had seen? Had the man married her for a reason other than honor? Had he been so enamored of her charms and her unsuspected wit that he’d lost his head?
Nonsense. Wilmont was not the type of man to be lured into marriage by a pretty face and clever manner.
She removed her hand and headed out of the room. “Once we finish this floor, we will go downstairs and see what can be done about the public rooms. I think in the future I shall wish to do a great deal of entertaining and we will need…”
He watched her walk down the hallway, her hips swaying seductively, invitingly beneath the black fabric. His arm was warm where her hand had rested and his stomach clenched. He drew a deep breath. He might as well face it.
She had charmed him utterly and completely. And he wanted her as he had rarely wanted another woman before. But he’d never dallied with the wife of a friend before, regardless of whether said friend was alive or dead, and he had no intention of doing so now. Still, with Lady Wilmont, Philadelphia, Delia, he suspected it would not be a mere dalliance. It would be something better, richer, deeper. Something forever.
Was this what Wilmont had thought?
“Any suggestions for this room, Gordon?” Delia stood in the doorway of the next chamber and inclined her head toward the room.
“Red,” he said without hesitation.
“Red?” She drew her brows together and studied the room. “Red. What an interesting idea.”
“Red would make a…statement, my lady,” he murmured. He didn’t give a fig whether she used red or purple or tartan plaid in this or any other room, it was simply the first thing that had popped into a mind occupied with more pertinent questions.
“It would indeed. I quite like the idea,” she said thoughtfully. “I wonder if I can persuade my sister to assist me in all this. Her sense of artistry has always been much better than mine.”
At the moment, it was his duty to watch over this woman but nothing more. Surely Tony’s desire for her was due only to their close proximity. He would probably feel precisely the same way toward any other moderately attractive woman whose constant company he shared. He could not, would not, allow the waters to be muddied with irresponsible desire. He would not let his loins rule his head no matter how delightful he found Delia, Philadelphia, Lady Wilmont.
The Lady In Question Page 7