On his right sat Lucy, her eyes aglow as she gazed at the audience. Such variety, including a sprinkling of women whom he suspected hailed from Madame Chambon’s.
What would Lily think when she saw him in the front row next to Lucy?
Would it give her cause to hope?
Should it?
Hamish put his hand to his head which ached; and not from the hocus pocus smoke that was swirling about the place.
Lady Bradden. She was a baronet’s wife. A member of the upper classes with, no doubt, a loving family who would support and cherish her, and delight at knowing she was safe in London and not still locked up in some terrible asylum in another country.
If Hamish had any duty towards her, it would be to persuade Lily to seek out the people who would help her. If her husband was a cruel man, there had been changes to the law that would protect her. She could go back and live with her father.
Hamish had learned that Lady Bradden had been Miss Taverner before she’d married and that her father was wealthy. If Hamish was to aid her in any way, perhaps it would be to inform her father of his daughter’s whereabouts.
Anything between them of a romantic nature was doomed.
For Hamish was in a different league. A different class.
And Lily was a married woman.
A thumping noise and the clash of a cymbal diverted his line of thought. When he blinked open his eyes, there was Mrs Eustace, dressed in a flowing black gown that contrasted magnificently with her golden tresses and ivory skin, her eyes closed and her plump, rosebud mouth pursed as she hummed tunelessly.
Helpless, he stared. He’d plundered those lips just days before; had run his fingers through those golden tresses. He swallowed down the lump in his throat. Had she indeed resorted to sorcery to bewitch him? For bewitched he certainly was.
Though when he glanced at the white-haired old man who sat in a chair a little distance from her, his bushy eyebrows and moustache twitching as he stared, mesmerised at her, Hamish thought that a great many in this room were under the same spell.
When she began to speak, he could understand why.
She was gentle but compelling. Passionate, yet wholly believable and deeply empathetic.
The old man, who was of course Lord Lambton, asked questions about his daughter, and the spiritualist communing with the lamented departed answered with compassion and insight.
What had Cassandra felt about her father, Lord Lambton asked? Had his attempts to keep her safe been misconstrued as controlling? What of his deep love for her which she’d thrown back at him as less than his fondness for his cat?
Mrs Eustace communed with the dead to bring comfort to the living. She did it in a way that was compelling and believable, and when Hamish saw what it did for Lord Lambton, he began to question his scepticism.
Mrs Eustace’s fame had spread, not because she was a charlatan, but because she was sincere. Others here tonight had come to mend their broken hearts, showing her photographs of their dead loved ones, and speaking brokenly of their regrets that rifts had not been healed before it was too late, or of their final harsh words which could never be taken back.
It was a much noisier gathering than Hamish had expected. Certainly, it had started in silence and with a hushed reverence, but by the end of the evening, a buzz of excitement had infected everyone.
Even Lucy, it seemed, whose eyes were shining as she rose, saying, “I daresay it’s not the done thing to speak to Mrs Eustace when all these people are gathered, but perhaps you could send her a note asking if she’d like to avail herself of a lift home in our carriage.”
Hamish stiffened. “I don’t know, Lucy—”
“It would be rude not to. Why, I’ll ask her.”
Now he and Lucy sat in the carriage, his sister leaning across the small space to declare, “Mrs Eustace, I remember Lord Lambton as an ogre, not the tenderhearted man you’ve revealed. Cassandra spoke of him as if he were a monster. But then, Cassandra had some strange ideas, I will admit. As for tonight, I didn’t know what to expect. But I certainly wasn’t expecting this.”
Hamish had certainly not been expecting this. He caught her eye, and the communication was like the thrust of a spear through the heart.
How could he forsake her when she deserved so much more of him?
“Lord Lambton is a kind man, Lucy.” The beautiful young woman patted his sister’s hand, adding with a smile, “I think he’d seen it as his duty to protect Cassandra from fortune hunters, but she saw it differently. I think that with age, he has mellowed. But he has lost his daughter. And he realises he will never get her back. It must be hard for a man to realise too late that he has thrown away something pure and worthy.”
Hamish shifted in his seat, and felt the heat rise in his cheeks. For she’d been looking at him when she said this.
* * *
Back in her own lodgings, Lily sat alone in her sitting room, with the lamp turned down, and only the fire for company. It had been a successful evening, but, like every evening, it took a while for the energy pulsing through her to subside.
She’d have liked company. She had so little of it. No one to speak to of her fears for the future. To talk to about their day.
To ask if they thought she really was mad.
She tensed at the sound of light rapping upon the front door.
Surely Teddy would not seek her out at midnight?
Grace was asleep, and when she found the courage to open the door, relief had the blood fizzing through her veins, thrumming in her ears, and her breath coursing through her lungs, fast and shallow.
“Hamish! You came!”
“How could I not? After tonight?”
So, it wasn’t only she who felt the connection between them?
“Come in.” She stepped aside, the eagerness in her voice and her discomposure making no secret of her pleasure at seeing him. And her hope.
“Grace is asleep, and I’m very glad to receive you,” she whispered, leading him up the passage and pausing by the drawing room when she so longed to take him further. Up the stairs to her bedchamber.
He must have understood, and, with no words needed, she put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself against him as his lips came down upon hers.
Pressed between the wall and his chest, she could feel the hammering of his heart. Hers seemed almost ready to leap out of her chest cavity as his arms went about her, skimming her waist, contouring her breasts.
“Shall we go somewhere more comfortable?” she managed between kisses, cupping his face as he continued to kiss her, not breaking the contact as they clumsily negotiated the stairs to the next level; arms entwined, with only one thing on their minds. He clearly needed no prompting.
This man was as enamoured of Lily as she was of him.
And, when finally skirt, basque, and breeches fastenings had been dealt with, they clung to each other on the bed, Lily in her linen chemise, and her lover in only his shirt.
With naked limbs entwined, and mouths fused, words were not needed as they continued to fulfil what both had desired the moment each had laid eyes upon the other.
The intensity of suppressed desire came together in a perfect storm of loving. Lily opened herself up with a willing heart, body, and mind to the man who offered her everything she needed at this moment.
It was an act that went so far beyond mere physicality. The aching void of her soul was filled by the act of exquisite plunder. Their need for one another was like a living thing; rapidly escalating heights of sensation, scaled with unfettered abandon and mutual, almost painfully exquisite rapture.
“I love you, Lily,” he ground out as together they crested the wave of mutual pleasure and an abundance of joy, finding outlet in a fury of passionate kisses and tangled limbs.
When the fury of their lovemaking subsided, replaced by a deeply satisfied quiet, overlaid by their soft, rapid breathing, they lay side by side, staring up into the darkness.
Hamish reached
for her hand, raising it to his mouth as he languorously kissed each finger.
“That was incredible,” he whispered.
“I’ve wanted you from the moment I met you,” she whispered back, the sting of tears like a catharsis for the years she’d not known him. When she’d found the courage, she asked, “Why did you come here this evening?”
“Because I realised I was wrong to let you go as I did the other night. Because I realised that I need you in my life.”
“Even though you know loving me will not make your life easy?”
He tapped his heart. “I can’t fight what’s here.”
She inched her body closer, in the inky blackness more than ever aware of the sensation of touch: the heated moistness of his skin against hers, and the curdling in her belly that longing and hope combined to create.
Could there be more to tonight than simply the physical union? She was not the virtuous embodiment of womanhood esteemed, but he knew that.
“There is so much that is a mystery about you, Lily,” he murmured, gently placing the palm of her hand upon his heart. “But I do know that I can’t live without you.”
Chapter 25
For a long time, Lily stared at the door that had just shut behind Mr McTavish.
He’d come back to her.
Closing her eyes, she slumped against the wall, clasping her hands and holding them to her breast as she recalled the glow in his eyes when he’d poured out his love through word and deed.
“Ma’am.”
She jerked open her eyes and swung round at Grace’s whisper, shocked to think that her maid may have witnessed her recent intimacy.
“Ma’am, yer doctor gennulman friend is waitin’ fer yer in the drawin’ room.” Grace came forward, her bed cap awry on her head and her little pinched face bleary from disturbed sleep.
“How long has he been waiting?” Lily exhaled on a fearful breath. She hadn’t expected Teddy to return. Certainly, not so soon. “Did he…?
“I don’t fink he ’eard Mr MrTavish,” Grace whispered, though she looked frightened. “He were already in the drawin’ room when yer came down.”
Lily looked down at her bare feet, her creased chemise, and ran her hands through her untidy hair. “Tell him I’m sleeping.”
“Lily, is that you?” His voice sounded from the next room before there was the sound of a chair scraping on the floorboards, and then Teddy was standing in the doorway to the passage, looking at her with interest.
“My dear, how...delightful that you were so anxious to see me. You shouldn’t have got up if you were already abed.” He stepped back for her to enter the drawing room, and with guilt and fear robbing her of speech, she obeyed.
“I didn’t think you’d come back so soon, Teddy?” To distract herself, so she wouldn’t have to look at him, or take the seat beside him that he was patting, she stroked a marble bust of Beethoven that stood upon the mantelpiece.
Teddy rose again and, coming towards her, put his finger beneath her chin and tipped her face to look at him. “Why would I wait a moment longer when you know my feelings for you, my love?”
She dropped her eyes from the tenderness she saw in his look. “Teddy, I—”
“It’s very late, I know, and you must have only just fallen asleep. I understand you had a performance tonight.” He hesitated. “Do you sleep well these days?”
She nodded, uncomfortable at his close proximity, unable to look him in the eye.
“You aren’t visited by the demons that plagued you when I knew you?”
Lily swallowed. “I have been so very well, Teddy,” she whispered. “And so much stronger.”
“Why, Lily, that is wonderful to hear! It’s not often patients report such improvement. Perhaps Brussels did you good, after all.”
Lily stepped backwards, turning her head and encountering Grace’s wide-eyed look as the little maid crouched, tending to the fire. No, there had been nothing improving about her time in Brussels, but she had not the energy to tell him that. Or anything that reminded her of those dark days.
“You must take good care of your mistress,” Teddy said, directing his words towards Grace. “She has been through a great deal, and we must ensure she remains strong.”
“Please, Teddy,” Lily whispered, embarrassed. “I’m very well these days.”
“But that has not always been the case; you must admit that, my love. You can’t wonder why I’m so anxious to reassure myself that you stay healthy.”
Lily dropped her eyes from his furrowed brow as he said, “I trust your mistress does not suffer from the fitful sleep and nightmares that plagued her in the old days.”
Grace fiddled with the poker. “No, sir.” She seemed awed by the doctor.
“I’m glad to hear it,” said Teddy. “Laudanum is not a cure-all, as you know, Lily. I trust you—”
“I haven’t touched a drop in more than two years, Teddy.” She closed her eyes, shame stinging the back of her lids as she pulled away from him and went to stand behind the sofa. She wasn’t going to add that the torment of her first months at the asylum had been exacerbated by the fact she wasn’t able to rely on her old crutch.
It was her incarceration which had made her realise it for what it had been. A drug that had done her more harm than good.
He rested an elbow on the mantelpiece, looking very much at home, and very disinclined to leave. “I’m very glad to hear it. Grace, take it from a doctor that there are too many hocus pocus potions to be wary of, sold by every apothecary who wants to profit from human misery. Isn’t that so, Lily?”
She nodded, unable to say more.
After another silence, he sighed. “I have timed my visit too late,” he said, straightening. “You are tired. My apologies. I shall leave you now, my dearest, and come back tomorrow.”
He moved towards the door and put his hand on the knob. Unable to meet his eye, Lily tried to think of something to say. Had he come back because he loved her? Because he wanted to help her? Such a short time ago he’d seemed her only salvation.
And then Hamish had come back to her. After tonight in his arms, she truly believed nothing could tear them apart. Not when so much of what had kept them from each other had been conquered.
Hamish knew the best of her.
And the worst of her.
Yet still he’d come back.
She didn’t want to hurt Teddy, but he was a painful reminder of the past. She wanted him gone.
When she glanced up, his brow was creased, as if he were trying to make sense of the Lily, Lady Bradden, he’d once known and loved.
“Good night, Lily. It’s good that you seem so much better. I’d hate to think you may ever be tempted back to your old ways.” He cleared his voice, adding, “And please understand that I’m speaking as your doctor with your health as a much major concern. Of everything sold over the counter, laudanum is the most dangerous and overused by society ladies. You’ve done well to wean yourself off it, Lily. You certainly look well on whatever it is that sustains you these days. I’ll let you go back to your slumber, but please see me out.”
As the door closed behind them, leaving them a moment of privacy in the passage, he put a hand upon the small of her back and whispered, “Can you tell me anything to put me out of suspense…or misery, Lily? Will I be welcome if I come back here again?”
She tensed at his touch, but said with more energy than she’d intended, “You’ll always be welcome, Teddy!”
Mostly because she was trying to cover up just how little she wanted to see him again.
He reminded her of days she would rather forget.
Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-six
Despite Teddy’s interruption the previous night, Lily woke feeling refreshed. With no performances that night, the day had been hers. She’d shopped and walked by the river. A weak sun had shone, and she’d felt nourished with hope.
Even the thought of Robert’s imminent return didn’t fill her with the
fear it had, for now she knew she had Hamish to support and protect her.
She didn’t have to perform at another séance for two days, and that would be her last, for soon it would be time for her to leave before Robert arrived in the capital.
All her thoughts centred on Hamish these days, and although she tempered the expectation, it charged her nerve endings as she imagined a future where the two of them faced shared hopes and dreams together.
Mr Montpelier and Mrs Moore thought they could continue to profit from the woman they had kidnapped by sending her to Madame Chambon’s, but Hamish would step in to save Lily from her uncertain future.
Their last loving encounter had reaffirmed his love and loyalty.
A smiling Grace opened the door at the end of Lily’s day in town, and the girl’s cheerful prattle added an extra layer of brightness to Lily’s mood, especially when Grace told her she’d sent her most recent visitor on his way.
“I tol’ Dr Swithins yer would’na be in ’til midnight an’ ’e said ’e ’ad ter go away fer a few days an’ ter pass on ’is respects.”
So, it was with relief that Lily walked into the drawing room, before shock stopped her in her tracks, which obviously caused Grace some alarm, for she darted forwards, picking up a copy of Manners & Morals that lay untidily on the table. She darted a guilty look at Lily. “I’ll get these cleared away right now, ma’am. Dr Swithins left no’ long ago an’ I gave ’im some tea but then the butcher’s boy were visitin’.” She broke off, blushing. “’E didn’t stay long, ma’am. Promise.”
Lily couldn’t care less about the butcher’s boy. She was looking dumbly at the letter on the table. It lay half under a copy of The Times, the name of its intended recipient proclaiming Lily’s lie for all the world to see.
Grace saw the direction of Lily’s look and snatched up the cream envelope.
“I’d ’ave gived that letter right back ter the postman if there’d bin a return address on the back, but…” She gave an eloquent shrug, “There weren’t. An’ I ’ave no idea who Lady Bradden might be. Wot should I do wiv it, ma’am?”
Loving Lily: Fair Cyprians of London: a Steamy Victorian Romantic Mystery Page 17