by Heather Boyd
Lenore gave Carmichael the dog leash. She urged Hero to jump out onto the pavement, and she then climbed out herself unassisted.
She looked up at her friends’ house. A groom had already run up to the door to present her card, even though she was expected at this hour. Their kindly butler’s face appeared, wreathed in smiles at seeing her arrival. She was always welcome here, and it was a lovely feeling to be wanted. She glanced up at the clouds, still thick overhead. “I fear it will rain again soon, though.”
She ought to get inside out of the weather and learn about last night’s mysterious new client of the Hillcrest Academy. But she cast a glance at her husband when she realized he remained at her side instead of departing. He was watching her, leash still in hand.
“I do beg your pardon.” She held out her hand for the leash. “Thank you, my lord. I do hope you enjoy your day, and your dinner tonight.”
Carmichael put Hero’s leash in her hand very slowly, but he didn’t release it. He studied her, a frown forming on his handsome face. It was a little unsettling to have him look so directly at her for a change, and she dropped her eyes, feeling unaccountably flustered.
He stepped closer and spoke quietly to her. “Next time I offer my hand to you, perhaps you will allow me the privilege of helping you out of the carriage, instead of the dog.”
She was startled by the rebuke but not for long. She was becoming so used to looking after herself that it had become second nature not to expect anything from him. In this marriage they’d made, it seemed prudent to continue to rely upon only herself until she knew her husband’s feelings better.
She met his gaze and smiled sweetly at him. “I’ll try to remember for next time.”
“Please do,” he said with a curt nod. He put his hand firmly over hers.
Lenore’s smile faltered as his touch warmed her fingers through. She was suddenly very aware of her husband’s qualities. He was very handsome. But it was his nearness that nearly made her swoon. Lenore’s heart began to race in response. But then his gaze shuttered and his hand fell away. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Yes,” she managed to reply. “Morning.”
Morning, the only time she could guarantee they’d talk, was also the only time she could count on seeing him for longer than five minutes. He was always running off somewhere without her, never saying where he went even the next day. Did he forget he was a married man when she was not standing right before him? She didn’t want to know if he did. “Come, Hero.”
She made her way up the front steps of her friends’ home, feeling a little low. Marriage was turning out to be something of a disappointment. Not that she had expected great things from their arrangement, but she’d hoped her husband might try to get to know her better before the day came when they shared her bed.
Being together seemed the last thing on his mind…but it was always on hers of late.
The Hillcrest butler took her hat and greeted Hero, who seemed to like the old man very much. From the corner of her eye, she noticed her husband’s carriage pulling away. He did not wave or even look back at her as he went on his way.
“The ladies are waiting for you in the drawing room,” the butler informed her.
“Thank you,” Lenore said as she shortened the leash, wrapping it firmly around one hand. Sometimes Hero forgot his manners, especially if there were cakes left on a low table.
Thankfully today, refreshments had not yet been laid out. She gave him a little more latitude to move but kept him close as she greeted her friends until the excitement of being here again wore off. “Good morning.”
“Good morning to you, too,” Aurora exclaimed in her usually bold way. “Good morning, Hero,” she said as she scrubbed the dog’s head fondly.
Kisses were exchanged, the dog fussed over some more, and Lenore ended up seated beside Sylvia.
“We were not sure you would come today,” Sylvia confessed.
“I said I would,” Lenore reminded her.
“We thought, hoped, you might be off somewhere exciting with your handsome husband.”
She made herself laugh. She’d come here nearly every day after her wedding day. Weeks had passed as her husband had gone his own way, and she hers. “Not today.”
“Well, perhaps tomorrow,” Sylvia murmured, one brow raised. “We have a client coming today, so it is good that you are here to help me.”
“Oh?” Lenore looked around. She’d never been involved with the Hillcrest clients before. Usually they came in the evenings, or if, at other times, Lenore would move into another room with one of the cousins to ensure the gentleman’s privacy was maintained.
“Aurora and Eugenia must go out together today, and we really didn’t want to disappoint the new client.”
She brightened. A bit of excitement would be part of her day, after all. “What do you expect of me?”
“Nothing but your presence as a chaperone. We make a promise to our clients that they’ll never be put in the position where they might be expected to marry one of us. Our reputations, too, would suffer for that if it was known we’d met with a man quite alone.”
At least someone needed her. She nodded, keeping a smile on her face. “I’m happy to help in any way I can.”
Aurora and Eugenia rose, kissed their cousin’s cheek, and bid them goodbye.
Sylvia stared at the door after they were gone, biting her bottom lip. She seemed nervous.
Lenore placed her hand on Sylvia’s, breaking her reverie. “Are you worried about this client?”
“Oh, no. Not really. It is just a different set of circumstances that brought him to us. He’s a widow who must marry again.”
“I see.” She frowned, not seeing the problem. “I thought your clients were the nervous type and inexperienced with women.”
“All men are nervous when it comes to marriage.” Sylvia shrugged. “This particular client’s first marriage was a love match, and his wife died suddenly. Heartbreaking, really. He’s being pressured to find a wife soon by his family, but he feels just thinking about it betrays her, let alone actually beginning to court someone.”
Lenore nodded. “It must be a difficult situation to be in.”
“Indeed. Lord Sullivan is quite troubled, and more than a little lost, to be honest. He does not think cupid will strike twice and bring him another woman to love.”
A knock sounded on the drawing room door, and the butler entered, followed by a footman, and Lenore had no time to ask any further questions. “Lord Sullivan has arrived, Miss Hillcrest. Shall I have Hero taken out for a walk while the earl is here?”
Lenore considered her dog’s occasional strong reaction to strange men might not be in the best interests of the Hillcrest Academy and nodded quickly. “That might be wise. Thank you,” she murmured as the footman took Hero by the leash and promised him an exciting outing.
“Please show Lord Sullivan in now and bring tea to us in twenty minutes,” Sylvia said with a bright smile of welcome on her face, standing. It was not her usual smile, it was bolder, and Lenore realized that her friend had donned a different persona since moving to the capital. She was no longer a timid, shy spinster but a woman with business on her mind.
A tall man with thick dark brown hair and an engaging smile quickly appeared. Though he threw an alarmed glance Lenore’s way, he bowed to Sylvia. “Miss Hillcrest.”
His voice, deep and confident, filled the room.
Lenore could only gape. How could this fellow need anyone’s help? He was handsome and had a title. He seemed unlikely to have any difficulty finding himself a bride, in Lenore’s opinion. Women should be lining up around the square for his consideration.
Sylvia nodded. “Lord Sullivan. Welcome.”
“Thank you for seeing me again and at such notice. I hope you are well.”
“Indeed, I am. The Hillcrest Academy is always willing to offer gentlemen support and guidance. May I introduce my friend to you?”
“Of course.�
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“This is Lenore, Lady Carmichael.”
His brows knit together as he held Lenore’s gaze. “Carmichael, you say?”
“Yes, a pleasure to meet you.” She curtsied to him but noticed his eyes were full of questions.
“I’ve only recently married,” she told him, and his expression cleared.
“I’ve only just returned to Town myself, so I hadn’t heard the news,” he said. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, feeling awkward now. She still felt an imposter each time someone used her new title.
“Do sit, my lord,” Sylvia said as she beamed him a sincere smile. “Lady Carmichael will be our chaperone today, as my cousins discovered they had a prior engagement elsewhere they could not get out of.”
Sullivan’s shoulders seemed to droop. “I’m sorry to hear they won’t be joining us,” he said, but didn’t really sound at all disappointed. Perhaps he wasn’t as confident as he first appeared after all.
Sylvia raised one hand to the hovering butler. “Mills, would you have tea brought in at once.”
“Yes, Miss Hillcrest.”
Lord Sullivan cast Lenore another glance, and Sylvia noticed it.
“You can be assured of Lady Carmichael’s complete discretion. We’ve been friends for many years, and she understands the nature of our work with our clients.”
“Indeed,” Lenore promised, quickly making the gesture to lock her lips and throw away an imaginary key.
Lord Sullivan laughed. “Very kind of you.”
Lenore beamed. She’d answer him if her lips weren’t meant to be sealed. She sat in silence as Sylvia began to question him about his life. They talked about family pressure to make a match for a while, pausing only for the arrival of the requested tea tray. Then Sylvia steered the conversation around to a specific women he’d met recently, and his feelings about her.
Lenore was deeply impressed with Sylvia’s ability to put her client at ease. She turned the conversations this way and that in a way that did not seem to pry, but clearly drew out Lord Sullivan’s opinions on women over the next half hour.
Lenore was surprised how masterfully Sylvia handled herself, and the delicate subject of making the right match for the right reason. In company, in the country years ago, Sylvia had been the last to voice an opinion, but around Lord Sullivan, she seemed entirely comfortable with so intimate a conversation.
“You ought not to compare the women you meet to your late wife so much,” she suggested. “She was unique. Every woman is. What you need to keep foremost in your mind is whether or not they appeal to you now—both physically and intellectually. Could you stand to be stranded with them in a place not your own? Or would you want to strangle them after the first ten minutes of conversation.”
Lord Sullivan laughed softly. “You have a unique way of putting things, don’t you? Who would you recommend for me then?”
“Lord Sullivan, this is not a matchmaking agency. You will have to find your own bride in society in your own time. My job is merely to support your decision to do so and help you become reconciled to being happy again. I offer advice and an ear to unburden your fears upon. From what I have learned today, you obviously need no tutoring on courtship rituals. You are a gentleman, experienced in women and marriage. You need but to trust that when you do find someone you think might suit, that it is not a betrayal of your first wife.”
He nodded slowly.
“It might seem obvious to say so, but you have nothing to fear from women. The lady’s you meet in the future will likely come from the right families, possess enormous dowries, and your whole family might approve the match. But you are the one who has to live with them. Share your life with them.” Sylvia leaned forward a little. “Make babies with them.”
Lord Sullivan’s smile fell away.
Sylvia offered him a plate of cakes, and Lord Sullivan took a piece and ate slowly in silence. A look of grim determination came over his face, and Lenore could swear Sylvia’s words had made him upset. Lenore felt she’d missed something of the conversation, but didn’t dare interrupt.
Eventually, he nodded. “I understand.”
“Do you feel you have met anyone who fits my description on the sort of woman you might consider already?”
“Perhaps, but the last point you made presents a difficulty,” he said, and he turned his face away.
Lenore couldn’t see his expression, but she certainly heard him sniff. Was he about to cry?
Sylvia nodded. “You must keep looking until you find the one who makes that future not so frightening for you. There is no reason the tragedy you suffered will happen twice. Keep an open mind, and don’t immediately dismiss any woman you meet after barely two seconds of conversation. It is a big step, but I’m confident there’s someone for you out there. You just have to be more patient than your family seems to be about the matter.”
He nodded. “Thank you, Miss Hillcrest. You’ve helped me tremendously, and I appreciate your time today very much.”
Sylvia tilted her head to the side. “That sounds like we won’t be seeing you again.”
“Not for a while, I don’t imagine. I’m to spend a few months in the country. First, of course, I must visit with my family, who will no doubt bring up the subject of my remarriage five minutes after they get me alone. It’s been a pleasure coming here and talking with you today before I run that gauntlet. Give my best to your sisters. I am quite sorry I won’t be able to talk to them again before I leave Town.”
“I’m sure they’ll feel the same.”
Lord Sullivan turned to Lenore. “Until we meet again, Lady Carmichael. Perhaps at Exeter’s little party, we’ll have a chance to talk.”
Lenore had not heard of this party Lord Sullivan spoke of, but she nodded. “Until we meet again.”
Sylvia walked him to the door and returned a few minutes later, wearing an unhappy expression.
“What’s wrong?”
Sylvia sighed. “He’s leaving Town sooner than we anticipated.”
“Is that a problem?”
“A loss of a new client always presents a difficulty. I mean, we always lose the gentlemen when they marry. As the season winds down and more gentlemen leave for the countryside, the need for our services dwindle. We’d barely begun with Lord Sullivan.”
“Ah, well, perhaps you could view it as a holiday.”
“Yes, that is exactly what we must do, I suppose.” Sylvia shook aside whatever worry she might have had. “How exciting to hear you’ll be attending the Duke of Exeter’s winter gathering this year, too! They say it will be the party of the century.”
Lenore froze in place. Should she lie about going away to the country? Lenore had not the faintest idea if they were even invited, or if her husband had accepted the invitation. Perhaps her husband just hadn’t told her yet. Or was he going alone to that, too?
She quickly decided to change the subject rather than face that possibility. “What about becoming a father upsets Lord Sullivan.”
“His first wife died after giving birth, and the child died, too.”
“Oh,” she whispered. “That is a reason to hesitate.”
“But he cannot forever, of course,” Sylvia sighed. “Even you know your husband needs an heir soon.”
Lenore felt a blush building on her cheeks and quickly changed the subject yet again. She broached the idea of a visit to a bookseller with Sylvia and her cousins for the next day. Her husband’s library, while boasting numerous tomes she might read, included nothing suited to a lady’s tastes. Now she had money of her own, and no one to account to for the spending of it, she intended to purchase a few novels to read since she had only herself to entertain at night.
Chapter 8
Price rubbed his temples. “There’s not much to tell, really.”
He was in danger of suffering a megrim after the day he’d had. His fellow lords had been loud quarrelsome, so much so that he’d almost walked out before Wharton ha
d finished speaking. However, he could not desert a friend. Not when Wharton was counting on Price’s influence to sway the fence sitters in the House of Lords to his cause.
“Oh come on,” Wharton chided, punching him on the upper arm. “There should be a great deal to tell. You’ve been married long enough to voice an opinion. Was it a great sacrifice to wed?”
“No. We have settled into matrimony very easily.”
“What does your wife think of your politics? Do you usually agree or disagree?”
Price rolled his shoulders and sighed. “Honestly, I never speak to my wife of politics. I leave my opinions in parliament.”
Wharton, a passionate speaker in the house, bristled. “I certainly will do no such thing. Nothing will change without me.”
Price shook his head. Only Wharton would make that claim out loud. He wasn’t entirely wrong. A great many things did change because of Wharton’s advocacy. But it was just the teensiest bit arrogant of him. “Are you not sick of it all yet?”
“Of course not.” He grinned. “If I don’t speak, whom else would you have to listen too?”
“You might have a point.” Price saw an opening to change the subject. “Speaking of wives, are you still considering matrimony for yourself?”
“Hell, no. I brought up the subject in a bid to slow your demise. A pretty woman is always a good distraction, and you, my friend…well, I feared you were headed for an early death the way you were drinking.”
“I did not stop drinking when I married,” he asserted.
“But you now do not attack a bottle as if it could save your soul. It is now possible to have a decent conversation with you at the end of the evening again.”
Price shrugged, looking out at the street Wharton’s carriage traveled. “Perhaps I had nothing to say before.”
“You had a great deal to say but were wise enough to hold your tongue. You have a great future in politics if you want it,” Wharton suggested. “So tell me about your wife. What is Lady Carmichael really like? I’ve hardly lain eyes on her to find out for myself.”