“And you will visit me in this quaint house on the edge of town,” she said buoyantly.
He heaved a sigh of relief and briefly closed his eyes, wiping a hand down his handsome face. He nodded.
“I hope you will visit often,” she said in the silence, because he was still too affected to speak.
He put his hands to her waist and drew her to him, the color returning to his face. He kissed her forehead.
“So often it will be as if we are not living apart, but in the house together. I plan to stay for weeks at a time—”
“When you are not needed here, with your family, or required in London?”
He nodded. “We will be a couple in every sense.”
“In every sense…?” she asked curiously.
“In every sense that matters.”
“Oh! Yes, I see…”
He started to make plans for their future, saying aloud, “You will need pin money.”
“Will I?”
“Yes. You must have an allowance, so you have money of your own.”
“And you mean to give me this allowance—this pin money?”
“I do.”
She would save as much of that as she could for the day when he no longer came. For a gentleman with a pedigree must marry, and marry well, and he would want a family of his own one day…
“And a dress allowance,” he stated. “For as many dresses as you desire. I would like to see you in satin and silks.”
“That would be lovely.”
Good. She would save most of that money too. How many dresses would she need out in the country? Perhaps if she saved enough she could travel on the Continent? She’d always wanted to visit Constantinople, a wondrous city on the edge of the civilized world, and a place full of medical marvels and learning, according to Dr. Warner.
“And you must have a personal maid.”
“I’ve never had a personal maid. Perhaps a female companion, too? For when you are not with me…”
“A companion. A personal maid. An upstairs maid. A butler. A housekeeper. A cook, and a footman. It will give me great pleasure to spend my wealth on you.”
“You overwhelm me with your generosity…” She looked at him keenly. “But you do mean it—about assisting you with the work of the Fournier Foundation—because I cannot be idle in Bath, and I do have many ideas I wish to share with you, and with the Foundation, on how best to provide for the dispensaries and the physicians—”
“After receiving my offer, every girl I know would be calculating how best to spend my largesse on themselves, but not Miss Crisp,” he interrupted, smiling at her note of hesitancy and look of uncertainty. He gently touched his nose to hers. “She wonders how best she can serve my foundation, and help me go about distributing my wealth amongst the sick poor.”
“Is that so wrong?” she asked, the note of hesitancy still in her voice because he was looking down at her in a way she could not accurately interpret.
He shook his head. “No. Everything is right about it—Everything is right about you…”
She smiled and kissed him on the mouth, and he folded her into his embrace, and they shared a long lingering kiss, to seal their bargain. He then let her go, and she took a few steps away from the oak, brushing down her flimsy apron and her petticoats and fussing with her hair. It was as if these mundane actions would calm her, for she had just made the most momentous decision of her young life. Perhaps in this magical place she was a witch and he a sorcerer, for she could never have imagined while in London agreeing to such a scandalous proposal to become a nobleman’s mistress.
But there was no thought of reneging. Not even when they parted, and Henri-Antoine headed off to the jetty, and she took the long way round to the pavilion via the terraced gardens. Every step closer to the pavilion and the sounds of female chatter was a step away from him, and she wished with all her heart she was still in his arms and they had remained under the oak until the stars appeared.
SEVENTEEN
THE PRETTY PAVILLION by the lake was festooned in a riot of silk ribbons in pastel shades of pinks, yellows, and blues. The fat marble columns were wrapped in sashes tied off in large bows, chairs were similarly adorned, and so too the large tubs bursting with color and the heavy scent of summer flowers. Ladies in flowing gowns of painted cotton with layers of diaphanous petticoats and tiers of delicate lace cascading from elbow to wrists, had draped themselves on chairs, or on tapestry ottomans, and languidly fluttered fans to push the cool air coming off the lake across their white décolletages, while engaging their nearest neighbor in conversation. The low mahogany table was lost under the weight of baskets of seasonal fruits, pretty little cakes, macarons, and pastry delicacies contrived by the hand of a master pastry chef. And all served on plates of porcelain rimmed in gold and emblazoned with the ducal coat of arms of the dukes of Kinross.
A blanket spread on the lawn and scattered with cushions was in the shade at the base of the steps, occupied by Elsie and three little girls about the same age. They had with them their dolls, and child and doll were both dressed in their summer finery, their gowns and abundance of shiny hair a miniature mirror image of the clothes and coiffures of their mothers, aunts, and cousins up in the pavilion. They were enjoying a feast of their own on small plates and cups that matched the Kinross porcelain dinner service, watched over by nurses, maids, and governesses who hovered at a discreet distance—not too close to their charges, but close enough to be called if needed.
And snaking in and around these pampered and privileged females, in the pavilion and on the lawn, were a small battalion of liveried footmen, in their distinctive peacock-green wool frock coats with silver braiding and buttons, offering trays of delicacies, tumblers of fruit punch, and flavored ices. They came and went with food and drink from the main house at the top of the terrace in a steady stream, much like ants coming and going from the nest.
Lisa encountered them as she came along the path of the second tier of the terrace between the hedgerows and tended garden beds, and she held back while several footmen rushed up the stone steps in pursuit of more ice from the ice house. With the path clear, she took the stone steps down to the lawn, and there found several more footmen waiting for her to pass, carrying empty trays.
She kept her head down, thankful she was wearing the wide-brimmed straw hat. It covered her mussed hair, and shaded her face from the sun and the cursory sly glances of footmen and upper maids. She wondered if her lips were swollen and bruised, for that is how they felt. They still tingled from his kisses. She pressed her lips together, hoping to somehow hide her mouth and the telltale signs of her shameless behavior, which was a thoroughly idiotic notion and one that caused her to blush at her own naïveté. What was a passionate kiss behind a tree when she had agreed to an immoral relationship with Lord Henri-Antoine Hesham?
She was suddenly thirsty and hoped one of the army of footmen would offer her a tumbler of cool lemon water. She would then find somewhere to sit at the far end of the pavilion, where no one would notice her, and no one would engage her in conversation. And there in her corner she would silently observe the dazzling spectacle of fresh porcelain-skinned beauties in their sumptuous fabrics of incalculable cost. Their braided hair threaded with silks and pearls. And as if they were a commonplace thing, there were strings of pearls about their wrists and about their throats, and stitched into their silk bodices, and onto their silk slippers. And with their fluttering fans of ivory and pearl and tortoiseshell, there was an elegance and ease of movement in their wrists and to their swanlike necks that to Lisa it was as if she were witness to a carefully choreographed piece of theater, representing aristocratic privilege and plenty.
What she could not have foreseen was that the little girl whom she had befriended at the swing was waiting and watching for her arrival. The ramifications of being the new best friend of the most important little girl at the party, as well as the best friend of the bride to be, were soon apparent when she found he
rself the unwanted center of attention, and every conversation paused, and every pair of eyes looked her way.
AS SOON AS Elsie saw Lisa coming down the terrace steps, she put her dolls aside and jumped to her feet. She rushed across the lawn, brushing down her crumpled petticoats as she went and almost toppling face first into the grass, such was her excitement. Her three young relatives looked about to see what was the matter, and her chief lady-in-waiting sent two of her maids scurrying after her. Her absconding was not immediately apparent in the pavilion, but then one of the three little girls jumped up, too, not to follow in Elsie’s footsteps but to go up into the pavilion seeking her mother, Deborah, Duchess of Roxton, with the news of the latest arrival before anyone else could make the announcement.
“I’ve waited a very long time for you to come,” Elsie stated, standing before Lisa, with a concerned frown. “Were you lost?”
“Yes. A little,” Lisa fibbed, and hoped her smile at least appeared genuine. “I’m sorry you had to wait. I must have turned right instead of left in the gardens. I never was very good with my compass points.”
Elsie accepted this explanation and taking hold of Lisa’s hand walked with her across the lawn.
“We’ve had pistachio ices, and there’s lots of cake. Julie ate two helpings of vanilla. Tina likes the lemon tarts best. She’s eight. Harriet is six. She spilled strawberry punch on her gown and cried, because it is her very best gown. Would you like a slice of chocolate cake, or do you like vanilla, like Julie?”
“Perhaps after I have something to drink. All that walking about the gardens in the sun has made me parched.” She looked down at Elsie and said conspiratorially, with a quick hunch of her shoulders, “I may have a slice of each.”
This made Elsie smile, and she led Lisa across to the edge of the blanket and introduced her to Lady Christina Fitzstuart, whom everyone calls Tina, and Lady Harriet Hesham, whom everyone calls Harriet. She could not say where Lady Juliana had run off to. Tina knew. She announced Julie was in the pavilion, adding by way of explanation to Lisa, who had such a lovely face she was sure there would be no harm in confiding in her that, “Julie doesn’t like sitting with us. She says playing with dolls is for babies, and that now that she’s turned twelve, she’s an adult. But her mama has her sit here because she isn’t an adult yet—”
“Mama says she must keep an eye on me because I’m her little sister,” Harriet added, squinting up at Lisa.
“And she plays with our dolls,” Elsie said in support of Tina and Harriet. “You can sit with us and have your punch, even though you’re an adult, can’t you, Lisa? Teddy does.”
Lisa was startled by two footmen who suddenly materialized at her elbow. One held a tray of tumblers and a pitcher of fruit punch, and the other was there to pour out and hand her the tumbler. She was so thirsty she took a sip of fruit punch without really tasting it, and partially numbed her tongue and her lips, before looking into the tumbler and discovering shaved ice floating in her drink. She had never had ice served in a drink before. In fact, she had never had a flavored ice or ice cream. Her Cousin Minette had received a most exotic porcelain ice pail for storing ice cream as a wedding gift, and informed Lisa that ice creams, flavored ices, and crushed ice added to drinks in the summer months were all the rage amongst the nobility, who built icehouses on their estates to store ice. Lisa was certain then that this estate must have an icehouse, and no doubt the big house across the lake had one, too. She made certain to savor this new experience, drinking the rest of her fruit punch slowly, for it was delightfully refreshing, and just what she needed after the walk through the terraced gardens, and helped to settle her after her encounter with Henri-Antoine.
And because the wide brim of her straw hat shielded her face, she kept her chin lowered in the hopes of not catching the eye of those up in the pavilion, hoping she might be able to spend a little time with Elsie and her young relatives, to make up for her tardiness. But she was not given the opportunity to take up Elsie’s offer of sharing cake on her blanket because Teddy pounced on her. She had rushed down the steps and put her arms about her.
“Here you are! We all thought you’d been lost and were about to send out a search party.” She untied the ribbons holding on Lisa’s straw hat and removed it, and quickly tidied Lisa’s hair by repinning a few strands come loose from their pins. “We must have you looking your best to meet Cousin Duchess and Aunt Deb and Aunt Rory. And then I have another surprise for you.” She turned and bobbed down and hugged Elsie to her and said kindly, “Thank you for letting me borrow your new friend for a little while. I want her to meet your mama. And perhaps when all the introductions are over with you can come up into the pavilion and sit with us while we have our coffee? Julie is there already.” And before Elsie had time to nod in agreement, Teddy kissed her swiftly on the cheek, and swept Lisa away, up the steps and into the pavilion to meet her female relatives.
All this was accomplished within minutes, without giving Lisa time to think too deeply or prepare herself for meeting the one person who had made such a difference to her life. Not only had the Duchess of Kinross sponsored her enrollment at Blacklands, she had then gone to the effort of discovering her whereabouts, and ordered Lisa’s aunt to give assurances of her attendance at Teddy’s wedding. What did one say to such a wonderful woman? A simple thank-you seemed wholly inadequate. And if all this weren’t enough to make Lisa anxious, there were the years of listening to her Aunt de Crespigny’s stories about the fairy tale world she had inhabited as lady-in-waiting to this most beautiful, kind, and loving noblewoman, which had elevated Mme la Duchesse to mythical status within the de Crespigny household. And here was Lisa, who never expected she would ever know what such a mythical creature looked like, least of all be in her presence, was about to be introduced to her.
“Here she is, Cousin Duchess!” Teddy announced brightly, bringing Lisa to stand before four women and a young girl, all sitting close together on an arrangement of comfortable chairs and a chaise longue.
Lisa managed to curtsy without faltering but did not know at which noblewoman she should direct her gaze. Her cousins’ warning reverberated in her ears, and it effectively made her mute: If you dare say or do anything that might interfere or diminish the special bond between Mama and Her Grace, we will hate you for the rest of your days.
The only woman Lisa recognized was Teddy’s mother. The Lady Mary was seated at one end of a silk upholstered chaise, a cushion supporting her arm in which she held her baby daughter to her breast. Lisa stared and then quickly looked down to the baby basket beside the Lady’s Mary’s silk slippers. Not because she had never seen a baby suckling before—often women came into the dispensary with a child clutching at their skirts and a baby at their breast—but because she never expected to see a noblewoman in layers of costly silk, with her bodice unhooked, feeding her infant, and at a social gathering.
Teddy gave Lisa’s hand a reassuring squeeze, which brought her gaze up from Lady Mary’s silk slippers, and made the necessary introductions.
“This is my fairy Godmother, Mme la Duchesse d’Kinross. She is the kindest, most loving godmother a girl could ever wish for, and I will never be able to thank her enough for all she has done for me, but most particularly for finding you, dearest Lisa.”
When Antonia Kinross blew her a kiss, she grinned and blew one back, and Lisa’s gaze swept over the Duchess, who reclined on cushions at the far end of the chaise in a cloud of cotton petticoats, a low-cut cotton caraco jacket buttoned across her ample breasts. Her mass of honey-blonde hair was generously streaked with silver, most notably at the temples, and she had a pair of fine green eyes that were reminiscent of Elsie’s in shape if not in color. But it was to her mouth—at the cupid’s bow—that Lisa was most drawn. Here was the feminine form of Henri-Antoine’s very kissable mouth.
“And the most wonderful mama to me you’ve already met, oh! and Sophie-Kate, of course,” Teddy continued, which caused Lisa to quickly look away from
the Duchess to be introduced to a second duchess. “And this is my Aunt Deb, the Duchess of Roxton, who is also Jack’s aunt, too. Which makes her extra special. She and Uncle Roxton have eight children. Imagine! Eight. Almost a cricket team—”
“Not quite, Teddy dear,” Deb Roxton said with a light laugh.
“And I am the Lady Juliana Antonia, the eldest girl,” volunteered a very beautiful young girl leaning against the Duchess of Roxton’s chair. She had honey hair and green eyes just like her grandmother, and wore a round gown of pale pink silk. She had her mother’s nose, but in every other respect she was a miniature version of Antonia Kinross. “Everyone calls me Julie. You can too.”
Lisa bobbed a curtsy and managed to say evenly, “Thank you, Julie.”
Lisa glanced at Julie’s mother and thought this Duchess had the prettiest dark red hair and kind eyes that were slightly familiar, and then she recalled Teddy had mentioned her Aunt Deb was also Jack’s aunt (though she looked too young for that) and realized Jack had those same eyes. She found it difficult to believe such a fresh-faced majestic woman was the mother of eight children.
“What you should have said, ma belle-fille chérie, is not quite a cricket team—yet,” Antonia Kinross quipped, green-eyes alight with mischief. “I am very sure my son Julian he has ideas of increasing that number to a cricket team, and there is little you can do about that, my dearest Deborah. What will be will be.”
This had the other noblewomen chuckling behind their fans and Deb Roxton opening her mouth to comment but thinking better of it and pressing her lips together, a heightened blush to her cheeks.
“And this pretty fairy is my Aunt Rory,” Teddy said, turning to a noblewoman with white blonde hair, fine features, and welcoming blue eyes, and who was dressed in lemon-yellow silks. She fluttered a fan that Lisa was very sure, if she had the leisure to inspect it more closely, was painted all over with the fruit of the pineapple plant. “Aunt Rory is the Lady Strathsay and married to my Uncle Dair. We think Uncle Dair must have plucked her out of his garden, because she is quite the loveliest flower I have ever seen.”
Satyr’s Son: A Georgian Historical Romance (Roxton Family Saga Book 5) Page 25