by Heather Boyd
All things considered, Lenore was happy to have her own carriage, and she waltzed out the front door as often as she pleased. But as she was driven through Mayfair in her expensive carriage with just her dog for company, she longed to have her husband by her side more than ever.
She was at the end of her patience with him. Yes, she could use her carriage when she liked, and Hero quite loved sitting in it beside her. But the arrival of a second carriage meant there was no need for Price to travel with her anywhere now, unless they were going to the same place.
Which they never did.
Today, she was going shopping yet again, meeting Sylvia Hillcrest at a discreet place of business to ensure the consummation of her marriage had the best chance of success. She had decided now was the right time. She wanted it done before her husband could leave her behind or send her to the country while he attended some house party.
Lenore had become very close to Sylvia of late and they spent much time together planning and discussing how she’d phrase her request to her husband. They practiced and discarded Lenore delivering subtle hints and had decided a blunt, direct invitation would be easiest for her to deliver. It wasn’t going to be at all romantic. It wasn’t meant to be.
Aurora and Eugenia Hillcrest remained in ignorance about Lenore’s unhappiness with her husband. That pair were pursuing new business opportunities outside of the ton and she was glad for their distraction. Sylvia was the only woman she really trusted to be honest about her marriage to, and she had been an excellent listener—cautioning Lenore not to imagine refusal but agreement.
Lenore hoped her friend was right. She was to deliver her request to her husband soon, before she lost her nerve.
Carmichael had been, as usual, nowhere to be found in the house after they had breakfasted together that morning. They were ships passing in the night still—polite strangers who shared a home and his name. The one party he’d taken her too had unfortunately come to an abrupt halt due to rain. They had been having fun together, she thought. But he had taken her home to change into dry clothes and abruptly taken himself off again for an urgent meeting with another lord.
At least he’d told her where he was going and why, for once.
Their butler, Humphries, became uncomfortable every time Lenore asked about her husband’s whereabouts, so she had stopped asking. She had promised to be a good wife to Lord Carmichael, and she meant to be—and that included allowing him to live his own life while she did hers.
But she believed it was past time for her to take the next step in their marriage, which was why she was traveling along Bond Street today in a slightly nervous state.
The carriage drew to a stop in a narrow lane. Nearby was a shop reputed to be the only one a lady could ever need to pull off a seduction. Lenore did not want to draw attention to herself lest it get back to her husband. She could not see Sylvia, but Lenore alighted with her dog, dismissed the carriage for one hour, and entered the little shop trying to control her nerves.
The little bell on the shop door gave a happy jingle as it closed behind her, and she immediately ordered Hero to be good. Sylvia had not arrived yet but Lenore was not unduly alarmed. She stood looking about the chamber for someone to attend her, gripping Hero’s leash tightly.
A small woman rushed out from the rear of the building. Lenore assumed there was a fitting room back there, though she’d never visited this particular establishment before. “I have an appointment.”
“La, you must be Lady Carmichael,” the small woman proclaimed, beaming widely. “Welcome, welcome to Madam Du Clair’s establishment. I am her assistant, Maxine.”
“Thank you. I trust Madam can see me today.”
“Oi, my lady.” The woman drew closer. “Unfortunately, she is running just the teensiest bit late with a fitting if you do not mind a delay of a few moments more.”
Lenore had nothing else to do, so she inclined her head graciously. “I will wait.”
She moved to a table and chair in the corner and sat with her hands folded in her lap. Hero at her feet. The assistant served her up tea and put a plate of little cakes on the table, too. Lenore was too nervous to eat, so she fed a bit of one to her pet while she waited.
From behind the drape, she heard whispers, then an excited utterance of her title.
Lenore looked up at the far room door just as it cracked open wider. A woman, only one eye to be seen, peered out at her and blinked.
Lenore drew in a sharp breath but then merely picked up her cup, ignoring the woman spying on her. The door shut quietly, and silence reined within the establishment again. Just as Lenore was starting to feel she’d waited long enough, the fitting room door opened, and one of her husband’s friend’s wives emerged.
Lenore inclined her head. “Lady Wade,” she murmured, striving for calm. She had hoped to complete today’s purchase without meeting anyone acquainted with her or her husband.
“Lady Carmichael. What a pleasure to see you again, and here, too,” the redhead promised, with a grin. “I trust you are well.”
“Indeed, I am.”
The lady nodded. “I was saying to Carmichael the other night that it has been much too long since we last sat down to dinner together.”
Lenore’s smile felt frozen in place, and she recognized the emotion surging through her as jealousy. This beautiful woman had seen her husband one night when Lenore wasn’t with him. She fought not to reveal her upset. “Is that right?”
Lenore was more than a little annoyed—but not with Lady Wade. She felt abandoned and uneasy that her husband had been having conversations with other ladies about her and had not told her about them. Of course, he could not avoid his friends, but Lenore would have felt better to be told about such meetings so she was not unprepared the way she was today.
“I shall have everything ready for you next week,” the modiste announced, emerging from the workroom, but she stopped and looked between them curiously. “I gather you are already acquainted, my dears?”
“Indeed we are.” Lady Wade smiled affectionately. “Could any lady of the ton be happily married without patronizing your wicked little shop?”
“I should hope not, Lady Wade. I fear your poor husband would feel neglected without my creations to tempt him.” Lady Wade was steered away to the door. “Adieu. You must not keep him waiting.”
“Until next time, Lady Carmichael,” Lady Wade sang as she was shown out, throwing a last regretful look in Lenore’s direction that she had to go.
Madam turned and smiled. “A thousand apologies for the delay, Lady Carmichael. If you would come this way, it shall be my pleasure to serve you,” she claimed.
Lenore stood, her mood soured by that unexpected meeting. “I am expecting my friend, Miss Hillcrest, to meet me here shortly but she is late. I hope that is not a problem.”
“The more, the merrier, my lady,” she crooned, ignoring Lenore’s clipped tone. “Everyone is welcome in my little shop. Here, a lady is ensured complete discretion and a level of personal service not found anywhere else in London.”
Lenore found the woman’s confidence that anyone held their tongue premature. What sort of woman was Lady Wade, really? Would she tattle on Lenore to her husband and spoil her plans to seduce him?
She rose and tugged on Hero’s leash. Hero followed her obediently into the workroom and, once released, found himself an out-of-the-way spot to lie down in.
Madam frowned as she put spectacles on her nose. “I usually do not admit pets in my workroom, my lady.”
That was going to be a problem. “I go nowhere without my Hero,” she explained.
The woman clucked her tongue, considering. Hero was freshly bathed and his coat was glossy black. He would soil nothing. Touch or lick nothing.
Eventually, Madam nodded. “As long as he behaves, he may stay.”
“I assure you he is very well trained. He will not be a bother, and I made sure he was exercised before coming here. He will most likely sleep throug
h the appointment.”
“Good, for we want no distractions.” The woman looked her up and down. “How may I help you today?”
What Lenore wanted to buy would be considered scandalous, or could have been if she was still an unmarried woman. However, she was married, and would not be made embarrassed by her request. “I require a negligee. Something suitable for the boudoir or bed. Do you offer them?”
The front doorbell jingled again, and Madam froze, listening in. The voices outside continued on a few minutes, so low Lenore couldn’t understand at first. But then she finally heard her friend’s tones, and flew to the doorway to poke her head out.
“Oh, there you are!” Sylvia exclaimed, rushing over. “I was afraid I’d come too late and missed you entirely when I saw a carriage leaving.”
“You’re just in time.” She returned to the workroom, drawing Sylvia with her, and moved to the center of the room. “I apologize for the interruption. My friend is here to lend her opinion.”
“Oi.” The modiste nodded, sizing up Sylvia, too. She smiled and then faced Lenore. “Something in satin?”
“Please.”
The modiste brought out a length of thin knotted ribbon and took all of Lenore’s measurements first. She turned away when she’d measured all of her and snatched up bolts of fabric to hold against Lenore’s body in all different colors, but then discarded each and every one.
Hero slept, his feet twitching occasionally.
Sylvia sat in a deep armchair, eyes alight with keen interest as she oversaw proceedings. Their eyes met, and Sylvia’s danced with excitement. “How is your husband today?”
Lenore shrugged. “The same.”
“Tomorrow morning, he will be different,” Sylvia promised.
“Tonight?” Lenore experienced a small pang of anxiety, but nodded. It gave her less time to reconsider. “Tonight it is.”
“Not satin, after all, I think,” Madam murmured to herself, and then found a roll of very dark navy fabric. Lenore frowned when she realized the material was sheer netting, the sort worn over the top of a satin gown. Ladies often dressed that way when they were in mourning. If she wore two layers to bed, Lenore felt she might as well be dressed in an ordinary nightgown dyed dark. This was not a time to be sad. “I don’t think—”
“This is just the thing to tempt your husband,” Madam promised. “Please let me show you.”
Madam Du Clair rummaged in a nearby cupboard and brought out a neatly folded garment in the same dark navy. It was clearly an order meant for someone else.
She held it against Lenore and smiled. “Your husband will fall at your feet when you wear this and nothing else.”
Lenore blinked several times. “Nothing else underneath?”
Sylvia began to chortle and clapped her hands together, sitting forward. “I told you this was the place for wives to shop. I love it!”
Lenore bit her lip, uncertain whether such provocative and scandalous attire was truly necessary. “But do you think he will?”
“Oi,” Madam beamed. “What could be more erotic and seductive than the skin so very nearly revealed? Many of my customers buy similar garments to this…and then return for replacements because they inflamed their husbands entirely too much.”
Lenore was not convinced she wanted Carmichael to lose his manners over a daring negligee, or her, either. She had not been intimate with her husband, so she had no idea how he might behave in the bedchamber.
But Lenore did feel she needed an edge when it came to pleasing him. She was no young beauty. Some considered Lenore downright plain. That was why Lenore thought a negligee might prove helpful for Carmichael to get in the mood to bed her. Something daring like Madam suggested now might just be in order…or it might be too much altogether.
Sensing her doubts remained, Madam smiled. “At least let me show you how you will look in this before you say no,” the modiste suggested.
“The gown clearly belongs to another.”
“No, I have made this and put it aside for urgent orders from my customers. This one has no home to go to.”
Lenore considered, and then nodded slowly, glancing at her friend and seeing her nod enthusiastically, too.
The modiste helped Lenore undress down to only her stockings, and then slipped the garment around her. It fell to her ankles and to her wrists, but the sleeves were full and would reveal her arms when she lifted them to embrace her husband.
Lenore blanched at just how little the creation hid from view though.
Sylvia came closer and started taking pins out of her hair. “For the full effect,” she murmured. “A little color on your lips and a welcoming smile. No jewelry but a sweet-smelling lotion on your skin, and you’ll be irresistible.”
While Sylvia fluffed out her hair down her back, Lenore caught the net in her fingers.
It was softer than she’d first imagined it would be, trimmed with lace and little embroidered adornments all over. A satin sash for the waist was the only means to hold the garment together and accentuate her waist. It concealed nothing. Her nipples, dark splotches under the net, and her curls lower seemed much too obvious.
As she looked at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t imagine Carmichael becoming aroused by the sight of her in this. She still looked like herself. “No. I can’t.”
“But wait, my lady.” Madam’s hands were suddenly in Lenore’s hair, too. Madam drew some strands forward over her breasts but kept a middle section down her back. But the daring plunge to her navel remained. “Like this, or perhaps all across one shoulder.”
When Lenore looked again, she jerked up her chin in surprise. She turned to view herself from all angles. She looked different, indeed. Almost a temptress.
“He won’t be able to keep his polite hands from you,” Sylvia promised with a wicked laugh.
A slow smile spread over Lenore’s lips as she imagined standing before him this way. She looked more appealing now with her hair closer around her face. Younger. Prettier. More enticing, she hoped. She could hide both breasts if she was too nervous, and reveal them later depending on Carmichael’s reaction. She revealed a little more of her cleavage and some leg also. Her pale skin shone in stark contrast to the barely there negligee.
Sylvia chuckled. “My friend the siren. Perhaps without the stockings for him, and point your toes a little.”
She turned her foot then blushed furiously. She liked it very much on her, and her confidence grew the longer she stared. She was not herself, and that was what she needed to be. She was a wife intent on seducing a reluctant husband. She was a woman meant to be bedded the moment he saw her.
“Oi,” she murmured without hesitation now. “I want this.”
This would do for consummating their marriage. If Carmichael proved partial to the costume, she would wear it again for him until she was big with child, and perhaps buy something else just as scandalous to tempt him to try for a second child when she judged the time was right.
Lenore didn’t want or need her husband to fall in love with her. Lust was enough, and only needed at night between them. Their marriage wasn’t about being physically close to each other outside of the bedchamber. During the day, they’d still go their separate ways, she was sure.
Madam helped her out of the garment and held out a robe. “What else can I help you with today?”
“That was all—”
“Actually, my friend is in desperate need for an entirely new wardrobe,” Sylvia declared, cutting into the conversation as she jumped to her feet. She drew close, and Madam stepped back as Sylvia began to whisper. “Don’t worry about the cost of new gowns. You will need them when the season begins, and I am sure Carmichael can afford to spoil you after all you’re doing for him. We need to show you off to your advantage, and make that husband of yours shower you with some attention. Some lower-cut gowns in sheer fabrics are just the thing to drive him out of his mind.”
Lenore wavered but then nodded again. She had not been extrav
agant so far. Especially knowing the size of the bills run up by her last employer, Lady Kelly. They had been greater than hers could ever be. Lenore did have to look the part now and prepare for next season. The cost of additional gowns was a reasonable decision.
There were a few of her newest gowns she had become dissatisfied with after talking with Sylvia, anyway. They had been perfectly befitting of a lady her age. But they were not exceptionally pretty.
When the carriage returned to collect her, Lenore sent it away for another hour as she poured over the modiste’s recommendations and redesigned her entire wardrobe around the impractical ambition of feeling herself a countess at last.
Chapter 12
Price slipped the mourning band around his upper arm, buttoning it into place, and then held his arms to his valet for his coat. As the garment slid over him, Price cast a glance at the connecting door to his wife’s bedchamber. He would like to speak with Lenore before breakfast. Figure out how and where they would spend the winter months. He had an invitation to the Duke of Exeter’s house party yet to answer, but she might want to go home to Edenmere Park instead first. “Has Lady Carmichael gone downstairs already, Norris?”
It still felt strange to ask that question and mean Lenore Griffin, the shy granddaughter of one of his former servants. He hardly felt married at all, even after so many weeks together, but there was no escaping the fact that he was a husband and he had to consider her wishes.
“Yes, my lord, though I believe she’s gone out with her dog.”
Price shrugged his shoulders, settling the coat into place and tugging down his shirtsleeves. Every time he thought to do something with Lenore lately, his wife was absent from the house. He was starting to find it annoying. “Walking in the square before breakfast?”
If she was in the square, perhaps he could catch up to her and get their plans settled before he went out himself.
“No, my lord. She took her breakfast on a tray in her room then went out in the carriage.”
Price hid his disappointment as best he could. She’d gone out before breakfast yesterday, too, without telling him she wouldn’t be joining him then, either. If she’d taken the carriage, then she was going farther afield and might not be back for a little while. He was not going to make any decisions without her, so the decision about Exeter’s party would need to wait for another time.