An American Lady

by Emma Brady

  “I guess it’s better for me to be a good daughter now than never.”

  “You were a good daughter, Miss. They were proud of you.”

  Sinclair felt the tears burning in her eyes as she struggled to swallow a sob. If Frederick heard her crying he would forget about propriety and come in to comfort her. Sinclair was certain her grandparents would not approve.

  “Thank you for saying so.” She told him, which was not the same as agreeing with him. Sinclair didn’t feel like she had made her parents proud, but now it was too late to change. “You should go to bed before anyone else wakes up.”

  After she heard the click of the door, Sinclair tried to close her eyes and sleep. It didn’t work. She wound up lying in bed, waiting for the sun to rise.

  IN A WELL-FURNISHED bedroom, near a fashionable part of London, two people lay comfortably beneath red satin sheets. The woman’s lush figure was barely covered by the soft fabric. Her thick red hair, straight as a pin, spread out around her head like a fiery halo. Lucas reached out to stroke a bare arm before pulling away. Marissa Bedeau awoke to his touch.

  “Are you leaving?” she purred, stretching like a cat beneath the thin covering.

  “I have some important business to take care of.”

  “More important than being here?”

  “I am going to help a friend.”

  “A female friend?”

  There was a warning edge in her voice that grated on his nerves. He was beginning to think that she wanted more out of their arrangement than he was willing to give and he would need to make sure she understood. Lucas began to dress without answering her question. He could hear her moving around in the bed, but refused to turn and look at her. He was in no mood to for a jealous fit tonight.

  “Are you visiting another woman?” she asked again.

  “Not tonight. It is too late for most respectable women.”

  Lucas was already putting on his highly polished boots when a porcelain vase flew past him to break against the wall beside him. He recognized the yellow roses that landed among the shattered pieces. Picking up one the flowers, he turned his hard gaze to her. He glared at her and saw Marissa’s breath catch in her throat.

  “Are you attempting to anger me, madam?” he whispered, his voice as hard as steel.

  “I have a right to know where I stand.”

  “You are a diversion, nothing more,” said Lucas, his voice cutting through the air. “We owe each other nothing.

  “Is this your way of saying it is over?”

  The woman’s black eyes narrowed on where he stood before the fire. Her high cheekbones turned a deep red as she struggled to contain her anger. A beautiful woman could become quite ugly when she let her emotions run wild. This dramatic scene was becoming tiresome and he was eager to leave.

  “I am reminding you that I may do anything I please, without answering to you.”

  In truth, things between them had been getting sour for the last few weeks. Marissa had been one of his longest affairs, but she had started making demands she shouldn’t. He had been thinking about ending things with her for some time and this only made it seem more necessary.

  “You would not set me aside,” said Marissa with confidence.

  “Oh?”

  “I am too great a prize to turn away.”

  Turning her lips up into a coy smile, the woman slid off the bed with the satin still draped around her. Every tempting curve was visible as she moved slowly towards him. The memory of their bodies together only an hour before stirred his manhood. With practiced skill, she stretched her body along his and leaned in until her softness pressed against him.

  “I can feel how much you appreciate me.” Marissa purred, running a hand up his trousers.

  Years of practice had given him considerable control of his base urges. To him, nothing was truly irresistible.

  “I’m leaving.”

  She ignored his words and continued to stroke his body in slow, languid movements. It did nothing to convince him to stay.

  “You will not find anyone else who can please you like I do,” she whispered in his ear.

  In one quick motion he pushed her away and reached for his coat. The hand clutching the sheet between her breasts trembled as she stood there fuming. The Frenchwoman was known for her uncontrollable temper, but Lucas was hardly intimidated. He’d handle her as he had all other women, enjoy them in this moment and forget them in the next. Like everything in his life, women had a place and he made sure they stayed in it. Nothing was more important than order, certainly not the illusion of love.

  “All women please me,” he said with a smile. “There is nothing you do differently.”

  He tossed the rose at her feet and left before she could muster up the words to voice her indignity. Marissa was more trouble than she was worth. Though she was a talented bed partner, the young widow had begun to hint at a more permanent relationship. The last thing Lucas needed was the entanglements of a manipulating female.

  The world was still dark when Lucas entered his home. On the walk home he had decided it was time to end things with Marissa. Tonight it was made clear that the casual affair they had enjoyed would no longer satisfy her. His life revolved around his business and his sister, leaving no room for anything more. Somehow he would find a way to part with her on agreeable terms.

  It was quiet as he crept upstairs in the dark. The servants were used to his late hours and no longer waited up. Gently opening the door to his sister’s room, he felt himself relax at the sight of Charlotte’s sleeping form. He paused for a moment, taking in the calm serenity of her face. His sister resembled an angel when she slept, with her flawless skin and golden hair. She was the reason he worked as hard as he did, with as many sacrifices as he made.

  This would be the first year since their parents deaths that he would be able to enjoy the season. He had made sure he had enough money by her first season to buy her the things a respectable lady needed to succeed in the hunt for marriage. His sister would be able to do quite well and he was glad for it. Nothing mattered more than making sure that his sister would never want for anything.

  Slipping in was easy, since Charlotte slept like a rock. He easily stirred the fire to life and tucked the blanket around her. A chill still clung to the air. The light kiss he placed on her forehead brought a sigh from her, and he was hesitant to leave. Only the work that needed to be done in his study beckoned him out of the peaceful room.

  Chapter 3

  In the morning, Sinclair found she was nervous about spending more time with her grandparents. They were strangers to her, and she was afraid they might not approve of her personality. She knew that many people didn’t. For that reason, she spent longer than normal on her appearance and entered in the dining room for breakfast later than she wanted. They didn’t seem to notice her tardiness and welcomed her with warm smiles.

  “I hope you have not been to a dressmaker already,” said Lillith. “I had planned to take you to my shop this afternoon.”

  “I’m still in mourning. I don’t need any new clothing.” Sinclair looked down at her black muslin gown that lacked the fancy trim most women wore.

  “I know, but it’s the start of the season and I don’t think your mother would want you to miss it.”

  “I just arrived. I don’t think I’m ready to take on society.”

  “You are new and a mystery. That will work in our favor.”

  Her grandmother had a hopeful expression that Sinclair didn’t want to ruin. Shopping was one of her least favorite activities, but if it would please her new relative, she could endure it.

  Later, she allowed Lillith to drag her to the sunny little shop on Regent Street. The owner was delighted by their arrival and made no effort to hide it.

  “You have a petite waist,” the dressmaker said, leading Sinclair into a private room to undress. “But it would still benefit from a tighter corset.”

  “I don’t find them comfortable.” Sinclair ha
d always worn the most basic style, loosened enough that she could breathe.

  “No woman does, but it is the cost of being a lady.”

  “I can be a woman without one.”

  “A woman yes, but not a lady.”

  She allowed the woman to pressure her into ordering one, but she had no intention of wearing it once it arrived. The ones she had brought with her from Chicago would do just fine without the risk of suffocating her. She stood while her measurements were taken in a bustling fashion, wearing nothing but her chemise. Afterwards, she dressed and joined her grandmother to pick out patterns and fabrics.

  “Simple styles and darker colors.” Sinclair told her grandmother firmly.

  “That will not catch any attention. You need to be making an impression.”

  “I will make the impression that I am still suffering the loss of my parents. It hasn’t even been a full year yet.”

  “I know and normally I wouldn’t encourage you to go against propriety, but this is a special circumstance. You can’t afford to wait until the next year comes.”

  Sinclair gave her a stern look. Lillith shook her head but slid the swatches of dark blue in her direction.

  “I know you are hurting, but you have to keep living.” Lillth said in a hushed tone so the dressmaker would not hear.

  “I can’t. I miss them too much.”

  “I know how you feel, but it will ease over time.”

  “You don’t know how I feel,” she whispered. “You don’t appear to miss my mother at all.”

  She felt guilty when her grandmother didn’t respond. The silence stretched on for a moment, with only the sound of her grandmother’s staggered breathing. It was unfair to say something like that, to lash out at someone she hardly knew.

  “It’s my fault they died,” Sinclair said when she couldn’t stand the quiet any longer. “If I hadn’t taken so long getting out, they never would have gone in after me.”

  It felt as if Sinclair was unfolding her grief to let another person share in it. Just saying those words out loud made the burden of it lessen and she could feel her heart beat stronger for it. Confession was what she had needed for so long.

  “It is not your fault,” Lillith whispered. “Your parents loved you so much. They would not want you to waste your life avoiding the world. They wanted you to come here for a reason.”

  “I wish I could have had more time with them.” The finality of her loss was unfair, giving Sinclair nothing to do but suffer through the pain. “I would give anything for a few more memories.”

  “I feel exactly the same.”

  “Can you tell me why she left?”

  “She left while we were sleeping,” said Lillith. “It was the night of our annual ball. I remember we had forbidden your father from attending.”

  “Why did you dislike him so?”

  “We just wanted more for your mother.” Lillith averted her eyes, not able to look at Sinclair as she told the truth. “In our minds, she would not be happy with a merchant American.”

  “I can tell you from witnessing it myself, she was enthralled with him. I was the one she had trouble with.”

  “I have no doubt your mother loved you deeply. A mother always does.”

  Sinclair saw only love and forgiveness in her grandmother’s eyes when she was expecting blame. Trust wasn’t easily earned, but offering that kind of acceptance was a good first step. Sinclair let the woman wrap her in a tight hug, giving in for just a moment to the feeling of comfort. The dressmaker cleared her throat, the moment had passed.

  “Do you have anything that might be ready for her to wear in only a few days?’ Lillith asked the dressmaker. “We have already accepted an invitation to a ball and it would be nice if she had something new to wear.”

  She really meant something that wasn’t black. Sinclair didn’t remember agreeing to any invitations, but it would be pointless to argue. Lillith intended for her granddaughter to attend, so it would happen.

  The dressmaker went into the back room and emerged with a wine colored gown. It was made of satin with a darker burgundy ribbon around the waist and the cap sleeves. The neckline was modest but low-cut enough for evening wear.

  “Another customer ordered this but changed her mind about the color. It could be altered to your measurements quickly.”

  The dressmaker looked at both Lillith and Sinclair, waiting for approval. Both women nodded, making it the first thing they had agreed on. Sinclair felt a rush of relief as she let go of some of her fears about her grandmother. Perhaps they were not the distant strangers she had originally thought.

  “You are going to take London by storm, my dear.” Lillith gave her granddaughter a light pat on the cheek. “You have the same good looks as your mother and they mystery of being new. People always love a good mystery.”

  “I’m not sure they will love me the same.” Sinclair hoped her grandmother wasn’t expecting too much. Her time in Chicago society had been unsuccessful, leading her to believe her time in London would be no different. Sinclair wasn’t made to be popular with socialites and she might as well get used to it early.

  “They just need the chance to get to know you.”

  “That’s usually when they decide not to like me.”

  “You just need to learn what to say.”

  Looking into her grandmother’s face, Sinclair recognized the same earnest hope that her mother had always had. Both women wanted the best for her but wanted her to change the way she was born to be. She had a sharp intellect and natural directness that she could never be rid of. Now there was another person she could disappoint. That wasn’t how she wanted things to go again.

  “I will do my best.” Sinclair said, meaning each word.

  “Good. I have asked an old family friend to help. His sister is also enjoying her first season.”

  The last thing Sinclair wanted was someone else to witness her struggle to fit in, especially if her failure might affect someone else’s reputation. She never blamed other girls for keeping their distance to protect their image. They only wanted to make their parents proud, like she wasn’t able to do.

  “Shouldn’t we ease into it?” Sinclair hoped her grandmother wouldn’t hear the distress in her tone. “Maybe start with a few quiet events and work up to a more grand entrance.”

  “Nonsense. The best way to do this is to dive right in. It’s better to make a splash than a puddle.” Lillith gave her a definitive nod. “Besides, once you make introductions at the ball, the invitations will pour in.”

  Sinclair cringed when she remembered the way her mother had waited for invitations the never came. Sandra had been able to use her own friends to garner some, but never as many as she would like.

  “This is going to be the season that you always dreamed of.” Lillith clapped her hands together.

  Becoming the darling of society had never been one of Sinclair’s dreams. Too much attention made her uncomfortable and the games people played never made sense to her. She preferred the world her father lived in, the world of business. That was something she could understand, because numbers were always predictable. Society was full of lies and false pretense.

  “I hope you’re not expecting me to find a husband.” Sinclair let out a sigh. “Men don’t generally find me charming.”

  “I don’t know why not.”

  “We both know why.”

  She gave her grandmother a look and the older woman blushed. At least her grandmother wasn’t a very good liar.

  “You just need to learn how to talk to them like a lady. Men don’t mind an intelligent woman, but too much independence makes them uncomfortable. Talk about things that are more appropriate for a woman of your station.”

  “I don’t enjoy those discussions. Am I supposed to do that the whole length of my marriage?”

  “No, but wait until they have fallen in love with you before behaving the way you want.”

  Sinclair couldn’t help it, that piece of advice was so abs
urd that she laughed. After a few moments her grandmother couldn’t help but laugh along with her. When the dressmaker returned, she found them both laughing hard enough to have tears. She looked at them with wide eyes but didn’t comment on the situation.

  “I guess it does sound bad when it’s spoken out loud.” Lillith wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. “I never realized how sneaky it was to be a woman.”

  “Sneaky is not something I’m good at.”

  “Then we will have to make sure you are so pretty they don’t notice.”

  There was no way she would convince her grandmother she should avoid society. With gritted teeth, Sinclair nodded and returned to the task of picking out gowns. If she couldn’t rely on her charm, perhaps she could at least look good while becoming a wallflower.

  A persistent knock annoyed the Earl of Westmore. Ignoring it only made the sound grow louder. Burying his head between his hands, Lucas ground his teeth in frustration. Using his most intimidating voice he called the intruder in.

  Tiny footsteps were heard walking across the expensive wood floor, stopping in front of his large mahogany desk. The rustle of silk as heard as his guest sat and he knew who it was. Lucas sighed, knowing this would not be a short conversation. Wearily, he looked up into the large aqua eyes of his younger sister, Charlotte.

  “I told the butler to let no one in,” he said between clenched teeth.

  “That does not apply to me.”

  He let his forehead fall onto the cool wood with a thud. It would do no good to argue with her, since he never won. She had a way of muddling his thoughts until he gave up. He waited for her to say what was on her mind and be gone.

  “Are you going to look at me at least?”

  “I would rather rest,” he replied. “I have a feeling I am going to need my strength.”

  He knew his sister rolled her eyes at him as she often did. He had learned not to let her get under his skin with that.

  “I would like to invite some of my friends to a weekly tea,” she said in a quiet, but firm voice, “To occupy my time.”

  “I am surprised you even bothered to ask.”