“You looked very young and innocent in that portrait,” he persisted.
“Young. That is true enough, but innocent…?” She smiled and shook her head, starting the room spinning nicely. “David had me sit for that portrait right after I gave away my child. It was a reward, you know…for doing the right thing…for making the correct decision.”
“You gave away Garrick’s child?”
“No! No! No!” She shook her hand in the air impatiently. “I was already carrying someone else’s child when I first saw David. He was playing Richard III at Drury Lane. I fell in love with him…and he with me.”
“And he asked you to rid yourself of the child?”
“It was not like that!” She reached for the cup but it was out of her range. “Give me a drink, Sir…Sir…what is your name?”
“Nicholas,” he replied, holding out the cup to her. “What do you mean, it was not like that?”
“I mean…David was trying to do the right thing…but it was for that fool Guilford…and for me.” She took the filled cup from him. “Aye, Guilford was the father…and he was in love with me…but he was married. Still, he was stubborn and high-minded and…well, he meant to do right by me…you know, in providing for the child. And then, when David and I fell in love, I wanted no part of him…or his family…or his help.” Jenny stared down into the cup. “And, to be truthful, I was not sure that I even wanted his child anymore. So that is when David talked me into…into giving the baby to the father and washing my hands of the whole thing.”
“And you did? You gave up your child?”
“Gladly! And everyone was perfectly happy!” She raised her cup and took a sip, immediately spraying the liquid across the room. “What the devil is this?”
“Water!” he said calmly before sitting down. “Do you know what became of your child?”
Jenny frowned and threw the cup to the floor. “I do not want to talk about her. Ask about me and David—about the stage and the theater. About all the fun we had together until…until he cheated on me and married that bitch…that Viennese harlot…that…dancer.”
“Everyone knows about that part of your life, Jenny.” His voice was gentle, soothing to the ear, and she suddenly felt very tired. “But I do not believe many people know anything about this mysterious daughter.”
“Of course not!” she said heavily, finding the chair suddenly very uncomfortable. “People know nothing of her…and no reason they should. Except that other gent… Heartfelt…Hartingford…Hartington…that’s it. Except for Hartington, you are the only other gentleman who’s ever been interested in this.” She peered at him suspiciously. “Do you know him?”
“Hartington?”
“Aye. When was that? He’d hired her…it was a long time ago. He came to see me…fancied me, he said. A bit of a romance, we had…I think. And then I come to find out my Rebecca was working for him.” Jenny reached over for the bottle on the table, but it was gone. “I need a drink…No, wait! We shall go over to my place and…and get acquainted properly.”
He rose to his feet and she had a sinking feeling from the look on his face that it wasn’t eagerness to go home with her.
“Another time, Mrs. Greene,” he said cheerfully. “I shall have my carriage take you home, though. I don’t know if there will be a chair available at this hour”
“Your carriage?” she huffed. “Damn your impudence! I need no sympathy from a water mongering whelp!”
“Do not mistake my offer as sympathy. I should be truly honored if you would accept the use of my carriage.” He took her hand and helped her to her feet. “Mrs. Greene, I believe you were the most beautiful actress that has ever lived.”
Her throat was dry. She was tired. She needed his strength even to take a step. And he supported her until they were outside and she was tucked safely in the carriage.
“Any regrets, Jenny?” he asked before closing the door of the carriage. “Do you ever wish that you had kept your daughter?”
She glanced at the well-appointed but empty interior of the carriage. She thought of the cold bed that was awaiting her at the house. And then, in her mind’s eye, she saw the crowd on their feet before a stage. The repeated shouts of her name. The lines of admirers.
“No!” she said haughtily. “Only a fool would trade what I have had for a mere child.”
***
The sky beyond the window seat was a shade lighter, and Rebecca knew the dawn was about to break. Carefully, she lifted Stanmore’s arm from around her waist and slipped from his embrace. He stirred slightly, and she felt the temptation to curl back into his warmth.
The polished wood was cool and smooth on the soles of her feet as Rebecca padded across the floor to the window. Pulling a quilt around her, she looked through the glass panes. The moon had dropped low in the night sky, making the drive leading out of the estate and back to the St. Albans road eerily white. She sharply turned her gaze to the silvery and magical reflection of the moon on the lake.
Rebecca wanted this scene branded in her memory—the moon, the lake, the bridge, the meadow climbing upward from the water’s edge. She wanted something that she would be able to recall during the empty years ahead of Solgrave—something other than the man and the boy whom she loved more than life itself, but had to leave behind.
“Why are you out of bed?”
His voice was a warm whisper in her ear. Rebecca’s breath hitched in her chest as she felt his warmth close around her. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth—of already mourning the time when she had to leave. “I couldn’t sleep.”
His hands gently pulled the quilt off her shoulders, and Rebecca felt the covering pool at their feet as his naked body pressed against her own from behind. “Then you should have awakened me.”
Rebecca felt his teeth scrape over the sensitive skin beneath her ear, and she shivered with excitement. “I wanted to…but I felt so bold…after everything we shared during the night.”
One hand cupped her breast, the other slid down her stomach and lower to cup her already damp folds. She leaned her head back against him as his teeth nibbled her earlobe.
His voice was a husky growl. “Don’t you already know that I cannot get enough of you?” The play of his fingers in and out of her flesh had her body humming to the most tantalizing song. “Call me selfish if you will, but knowing that you are afflicted with the same suffering makes me a very happy man, my love.”
She leaned to one side and dug her fingers in his hair, kissing him deeply.
Although they’d already made love numerous times during the night, the force of his passion at this moment was unmatched. He turned her toward the mirror hanging above the dresser beside the window, allowing Rebecca to look at their reflection as he entered her. She watched through a thick haze of passion how one expert hand cupped and caressed her breast while the other continued to coax the pleasures of womanhood within her. He slid into her again and again, and Rebecca stared with utter disbelief at the image of these two people rising together on undulating waves of passion before finally coming apart in an explosion of ecstasy.
Breathless before the power of what she’d witnessed, Rebecca closed her eyes and etched in her mind this memory, too.
CHAPTER 29
The church was deserted but for the two women speaking quietly by the ancient crypt.
“Everyone is afraid. Since yesterday morning, even his own people scatter when he comes around. And I do not think…it is anger. There is something more—a madness has taken hold of him. He is in his cups all the time. He never sleeps, as far as I can tell. This morning, he beat one of the scullery maids for not knowing when Lady Nisdale was coming back. And then he ordered one of my maids—Vi, a young and innocent thing—be brought to him in his study.” Millicent shivered. “We had to hide the terrified creature in one of the slave huts in the Grove and lie and say the girl had gone to St. Albans to look after her sick mother. I am hoping he forgets about her.”
Rebecca’s hand rested on her friend’s arm. “How about you? Will you be safe there until the end of the week?” With the netting pushed up, she had a clear picture of Millicent’s hideous bruises.
“I am already defeated as far as he cares.” Her voice was flat and empty. “He is now on a rampage to crush those who have any life left in them. I am more docile than I have ever been.”
“How about the bailiff? Is he still there?”
“Mickleby is still there, but his bluster is only a veneer. The rumors that Lord Stanmore has ordered him be shot on sight have clearly frightened the bully. I heard one of the maids say the coward would swim to Jamaica if the squire released him and paid him the wages he’s owed. For now, though, he is still there.” Millicent’s gaze met Rebecca’s. “But how is Israel?”
Rebecca told her friend about the lad’s broken ribs. But she also mentioned how much better the boy was, even after only a day, and how Jamey was keeping a vigil at the bedside.
“Are you still…still planning to go?”
Rebecca quickly pushed aside all of her own hurt and longing and painted a smile on her face. “We are…the two of us will go this Friday. I have already asked one of the grooms at Solgrave to hire us a carriage. You must meet me at the end of the orchards…by the road to Melbury Hall…early Friday morning.”
“I shall be there!” Millicent said excitedly, clutching Rebecca’s hand. “I have only a little money, and some jewels…I shall be leaving with not much more than the clothes on my back. But it does not matter…nothing matters. I shall be free…and happy for the first time in my life!”
Rebecca’s hands patted her friend’s back as Millicent hugged her tight. Blinking back her own tears, she tried to not think of what she herself would be leaving behind—Jamey, Stanmore, and all that they meant to her. Rebecca fought back her rising anguish and tried to not think of the happiness that her past was robbing her of. Millicent was right…it does not matter…nothing matters.
“I’ll wait for you by the orchards.”
***
The lawyer stared incredulously at the visitor. “And does his lordship know anything about what you are up to?”
“Do not discourage me, Birch,” Nicholas warned. “This is the noblest thing I have yet done in my life. In fact, now that I think of it, this is quite like something Stanmore himself would do.” He shook his head. “This is not good. I have been ruined by him after all. You mustn’t tell anyone. Think of my reputation!”
Birch started pacing the room. “I hardly think his lordship would be pleased to know your involvement in his affairs!”
“You mean, if you were to tell him that I was the one who discovered this most damaging information about Mrs. Ford.”
“Miss Neville,” Birch corrected. “I received a letter from his lordship yesterday. She has confirmed what I discovered earlier…and through my own efforts.” He paused, glowering at Nicholas. “Her name is Miss Rebecca Neville. There never was a husband, after all, and she was not an acquaintance of Elizabeth beforehand.”
“So the mystery lies in…”
“What caused her to run and change her name ten years ago.”
“Which brings us back to her early years in England and…perhaps to a possible employer?”
Birch stopped pacing. “I am not denying the significance of what you have learned, Sir Nicholas. It is just…well, because of the sensitive nature of this matter…”
“How sensitive an issue is it?”
“He plans to marry her…” The lawyer glanced at the letter from Stanmore lying on his desk. “Soon, perhaps this week.”
“That is exactly what I was afraid of.” Nicholas sank into a chair.
“I can assure you, there is nothing to fear. Mrs. Ford…I mean Miss Neville is an absolute exemplar of propriety, a paragon…regardless of her mother’s reputation. Of course, we must search out this Mr. Guilford, whoever he is.”
Nicholas let out a low whistle. “So…you are attracted to her, too. You and Stanmore both. And that is not all of it. Daniel…Mrs. Trent…even that old grump Philip. Everyone she meets falls prey to her charm, it appears.”
“I hardly think the term ‘falls prey’ applies here. In fact, I might argue that perhaps the fault lies with you, Sir Nicholas, as you appear to be so wholly unaffected by such a rare and wonderful woman. Far superior to any you might find among the ton, I should add.”
“No doubt. But who says I am unaffected by the woman?” Nicholas responded in self-defense. “I am only concerned with Stanmore’s rather precipitous intentions. I do not believe that either you or I would like to see him hurt again.”
Birch ran a hand over his face. “I certainly do not.”
Nicholas jumped to his feet. “Then it is settled. We shall proceed with my plan.”
“I still believe it would be best if you allowed me to visit this…Hartington residence on my own.”
“No chance of that, Birch.” Nicholas warned, picking up his hat and gloves. “Like it or not, I am involved and will remain involved until the woman is raised to sainthood or damned forever.”
Disgruntled, Birch moved behind his desk. “I shall send my card to this Sir Charles Hartington and appeal for a meeting with him tomorrow.”
“Do not bother with Sir Charles. Send your card directly to Lady Hartington.”
“And why is that?”
“Because the present baronet is not yet twenty years of age.”
“Twenty?”
“His father, the previous Sir Charles, was killed years ago. If there is anyone who can give us any worthwhile information about our mysterious Miss Neville, it will be the mother.”
***
They tried to be discreet. Stanmore would come to her bedroom late in the night, only after the household had retired. And in the mornings, he’d reluctantly leave her before dawn, going back to his own chambers to wash and change and meet James by the stables for their morning ride. But despite their discretion, as Rebecca made her way to Israel’s room to check on him before going down to breakfast, she felt as if everyone could see right through her.
True, she was a little dreamy-eyed from all she and Stanmore had shared last Sunday by the lake and in the course of two nights of blissful ecstasy. She was deliciously tender from his repeated lovemaking, yet always ravenous to see him again. He knew exactly how to bring her body to life and make her wild with desire. He knew how to strip away the encumbrances of her heart and her mind until she was freely whispering words of love to him. Not that any of it was a surprise, for Samuel Wakefield, the earl of Stanmore, was the only man she had ever loved. The only man she would ever love.
As she approached the dining room, Rebecca tried to fight back the grief that was welling in her eyes and knotting her throat. She was determined to not mourn her loss before going away. She had a lifetime in the colonies to ponder the emptiness of her existence, a lifetime to cry for her two men.
Philip was in the dining room when Rebecca entered. Pleasant as always to her, the steward was positively animated by news of the distinguished visitor that they were to expect at Solgrave before the end of the week.
“Lord North, the Prime Minister, will be stopping here…on Thursday!”
Though Rebecca tried to exhibit some enthusiasm, she honestly hoped no one would visit until she and Millicent had gone. It wasn’t the entertaining that she minded, of course, but rather the further loss of precious time she had to spend with the ones she loved. She accepted a cup of tea and admonished herself for her selfishness.
“Indeed, I remember reading about the king’s new First Minister when I was in the colonies. He took office early this year, I believe?”
“He did, ma’am.” Philip motioned to one of the servants to serve Rebecca her breakfast. “His lordship is a great favorite of the king. I believe they have known each other since boyhood. In fact, if I maybe so forward…”
He paused, waiting until the servant had completed his task and backed away. He
lowered his voice, speaking confidentially.
“In fact, ma’am, there is such a close resemblance between the king and Lord North that it is rumored they may even be related. Lucy Montagu, the mother to present Lord North, was known to be an attractive young woman and widely rumored to be quite intimate with the king’s father.”
Rebecca paused with the cup halfway to her mouth and raised an eyebrow at Philip. She would never have taken the steward as a gossip.
“Of course, this is just disgusting rumor based upon—did I say close?—slight physical resemblance between the two men…and upon court talk, which I would be loath to credit with any truth whatever!”
Rebecca hid a smile, deciding that Philip would be disappointed if she were to not pursue the topic. “Is Lord North’s father still alive?”
“Of course!” the steward added. “The old earl, who served as the king’s Governor in his majesty’s minority, you know, is quite advanced in years now. Spends most of his retirement at Wroxton Abbey near Banbury, I believe. In fact, that is where the Prime Minister shall be traveling from this Thursday. Despite all that scandalous chin wagging, it is well known that Lord North is quite fond of the old man.”
The appearance of Jamey and Stanmore saved Rebecca from having to ask any more questions. She was elated by the lad’s crushing embrace, and watched with a sublime sense of happiness as the boy attacked his food. Fighting an urge to send Stanmore the look of longing that was feeling in her soul, she simply smiled at him. His dark answering gaze, though, heated her entire body.
“Shall I tell her, or are you going to?”
Rebecca looked from Jamey to Stanmore and back.
“I believe you should,” the earl replied casually.
Jamey turned his bright face to her. “We are going to Scotland for an entire month, this August. That is earlier than his lordship goes every year, but he is changing his plans this year, so we can all make the trip before I go off to Eton.”
The Promise Page 32