Title Sinful Tales of Desirable Ladies

by Lucinda Nelson

  Her tears spilt over, and she said nothing.

  “You are a bitter, gormless woman,” Lord Blackhill said. She could hear the sound of a sob rising in his throat, but he wouldn’t let it loose. “If I do not find Loraine, know that you have crumpled more hearts than my father ever did.”

  Esther felt her heart break open, as this truth settled in her mind. As Lord Blackhill briskly left the room, she put her face into her hands and wept.

  ***

  Lord Philip Everton, Marquess of Blackhill

  Philip was starting to sober up, and all the things he’d learnt that night were crashing into him. He could hardly cope with the information. It was stirring up a storm in his mind.

  Before Philip reached the door, he was stopped by Mrs. Barrow. “Lord Blackhill,” she said.

  He stopped and turned around, but his expression was vicious. “I suppose you played a part in all this?”

  Mrs. Barrow’s calm countenance didn’t change. “I was wary of you,” she admitted. “But I didn’t agree with Lady Esther’s plans. And neither did Loraine, at first. But her aunt can be very convincing, and Loraine has always felt indebted to her. You must understand that saying no was almost impossible for her.”

  It was what he needed to hear. He needed to understand what had driven Loraine. But more importantly, he needed to know how much of her was real. “When did it stop being a game?”

  “I’m not sure,” Mrs. Barrow answered. “But I know that any feelings she expressed to you were sincere.”

  Philip didn’t answer, but nodded slightly to acknowledge that she’d spoken.

  “There’s something else,” she said, when he turned to leave again. She pulled a stack of letters from her pocket and looked down at them. “These are from Loraine,” she said, quietly, brushing her thumb over the torn envelopes. “She’s been writing to me since she left.”

  Mrs. Barrow extended the letters towards him. “They should give you some idea of where she is, and where she’s going.”

  Philip’s lips parted as he looked down at the letters. He took them, tentatively. “You want to help me find her…”

  “I’ve never known her to be so happy as when she’s been with you,” Mrs. Barrow admitted, softly. She even smiled a little. “I hope you find her. And if you do… perhaps you’ll bring her back?”

  Philip’s face softened as he looked into Mrs. Barrow’s eyes. She missed Loraine. Perhaps as much as Philip did. At least that was something they shared in common. “Thank you,” he murmured, and tucked the letters into his pocket.

  Having left the Beauchamp estate, Philip went home, where he sat up for the rest of the night reading the letters. They didn’t mention him. Not once.

  But he could hear an undertone of sadness, which lingered between each word. Reading her words made him feel like he could almost hear her voice, speaking into his ear. It made him miss her more furtively than ever.

  In the morning, without having slept, he called on Bradley and Theodore. They convened at Bradley’s estate and Philip showed them the letters. He told them everything he’d learnt and watched their expressions move between shock, horror, rage and sadness.

  Once he’d told all, he just looked at them and waited for them to speak. “If this is all true…” Theodore whispered, but said nothing more.

  Philip understood. If this was all true, which he believed it to be, then Theodore had gravely misunderstood Loraine. All of them had. “I’m going to find her,” Philip said. “And I want you both to come with me.”

  Not so many months ago, Edgar had come to Philip and asked him to do the same thing. To come and help him win Loraine. But Philip, in his self-absorption and grief, had said no.

  But Bradley and Theodore would not make the same mistake he had. They agreed, and each of them packed their bags that very afternoon.

  Chapter 36

  Lady Esther Beauchamp

  “My Lady,” Mrs. Barrow said.

  Esther was sitting by the window, but the curtains were closed. Occasionally she’d reach out and touch the fabric, but she never once looked outside. She didn’t answer.

  “Lady Esther.”

  She heard Mrs. Barrow approach. She looked up at her, with a lifeless expression. “What is it?”

  “This is not healthy.”

  Lady Esther breathed a tired laugh. “Why do you care? You’ve never much liked me, have you, Mrs. Barrow?”

  Mrs. Barrow frowned and did not immediately answer. Then she nodded slightly. “No,” she admitted. “I’ve never much liked you. I think your efforts to warp Loraine’s mind are the cause of all this pain. And I suspected that you would not be good for her when first we came to America.”

  Esther looked away. Her eyes started to water and her chin trembled, but she wouldn’t weep. She’d been weeping for days, and her chest hurt terribly from it.

  “But that being said,” Mrs. Barrow added, more softly. She crouched down beside Esther’s chair and put her hand on her arm. “I know that you love her as dearly as I do. And that was something I had not expected from you.”

  Esther looked down at Mrs. Barrow. Her face was so open, where usually it was stern. Esther had always felt threatened by Mrs. Barrow, who had been with Loraine all her life, but she hadn’t wanted the woman to hate her. She certainly didn’t hate Mrs. Barrow.

  “I do not believe that any other guardian could have loved her more.”

  “There were no other guardians,” Esther reminded her, in a broken voice.

  Mrs. Barrow smiled a little. “But if there had been. If she’d had all the family in the world, no one would have loved her so much as you have. And being loved is more important than anything else.”

  The notion made Esther’s tears spill over her wrinkled cheeks. Before Loraine, there had been no one to love her. No one. “I know that I can be-” Her voice trembled. “A bit mad,” she concluded.

  Mrs. Barrow smiled wider. She almost had affection in her countenance. It surprised Esther. “That is true,” Mrs. Barrow said, warmly. “But your eccentricities have made her different from other women. And is that not why we love her so much?”

  Esther smiled a little. She knew what people said about her. That her mind was feeble and a little mad. But Mrs. Barrow was right. It was that very madness that had made Loraine what she was.

  Her smile slipped away as quickly as it had come. “But what does it matter now?” She murmured, despondently. “She’s gone now. I ruined it all.”

  “Perhaps you can fix it.”

  “How?”

  “By showing her that you have changed.”

  Esther looked back towards the curtains and shook her head. “She won’t believe it.”

  “Then prove it.” Mrs. Barrow stood as she said this. She threw the curtains wide open, which made Esther squint, and came to stand in front of her. “Go to the Everton estate.”

  “He will not speak to me again,” Esther reminded her.

  “I am not suggesting you speak to Lord Philip,” Mrs. Barrow said. “You will speak to his father.”

  Esther’s eyes widened. “Are you mad? I have not spoken to him in decades. He’s a cad. No, I will not.”

  Mrs. Barrow quirked a brow. It was a look she must have picked up from Loraine, because it made Esther feel small all of a sudden. A power that Loraine had mastered at just seventeen years old.

  “Think about it.”

  “To what end?”

  “It may afford you the opportunity to heal, Lady Esther.”

  Esther was horrified by the mere thought of seeing that man again. That man who she’d been so desperately in love with once. Who’d hurt her and shamed her. “I suppose you want me to make amends? With him?”

  “Perhaps,” Mrs. Barrow answered. “Or perhaps not. Speaking to him is the first step, given that his son is in love with your niece.”

  “It doesn’t matter if he’s in love with her. She’s gone now.”

  “But she may not be for long.”

>   Esther’s brows pulled together. “What?”

  “Lord Philip has gone looking for her.”

  “How could he possibly know where to find her?”

  Mrs. Barrow looked uncomfortable, but compensated by lifting her chin a little higher. It was clear that she was hiding something, and when what it was dawned on Esther she felt a slice of pain through her heart. “Have you been in contact?”

  “We have,” Mrs. Barrow answered, in a level voice.

  Esther turned her face away and put a hand to her mouth to cover her trembling lips. “I see.”

  Mrs. Barrow didn’t say anything else. She slipped quietly out of the room, leaving Esther to her thoughts, her sadness and the smallest feeling of hope.

  Though it hurt her that Loraine had contacted Mrs. Barrow and not her, the prospect of Philip finding her and bringing her home was a bright one.

  And if that was going to happen, then Mrs. Barrow was right. Esther had to prove to Loraine that she could change. And there was only one way to do that.

  The following day, Esther left the estate. As always, she looked positively impeccable. Though her face was tired and her eyes manically bright, her dress was made from the finest materials and floated about her. She was an emerald, with her hair pulled back into a neat bun.

  “To the Everton estate,” she told the carriage driver, as she stepped inside. She looked back at the house, to see Mrs. Barrow standing in the doorway, smiling.

  On the carriage ride, Esther wrung her hands in her lap. She felt this quivering feeling in her throat, like she’d swallowed a live bird. She was nervous.

  When they arrived, she sat for several moments, wetting her dry lips with her tongue. Then she took a deep breath and stepped out into the courtyard. The house looked very quiet. Far quieter than it had been when she’d visited it last.

  When Lord Blackhill had been courting her all those years ago, she’d loved this house. It was so grand, and the gardens were kept so very well.

  She felt an onslaught of memory strike her. It almost made her turn back and ask the carriage driver to take her straight home.

  But she didn’t.

  She went to the door and knocked tentatively.

  It was the younger son who answered.

  “Hello, father,” she said to him.

  “Lady Esther,” he answered, with an expression of surprise. “Good morning. I am very sorry if you have come to see Philip. He is not currently in England.”

  “I am aware of that,” she replied. “I am actually here to see your father.”

  God, she hoped he wasn’t there. More than anything.

  This surprised the priest even more. He blinked and hesitated before answering. “Oh,” he said. He looked back over his shoulder. “Certainly. I’ll call for him, if you’d like to come inside and wait in the drawing room?”

  Esther nodded and allowed him to lead her inside.

  In the drawing room, she didn’t sit. She stood by the window.

  “Can I have anything brought for you?” He asked.

  “Some warm milk would be lovely.”

  He smiled a little and inclined his head, then left. A maid brought her the milk a few minutes later. She waited for a long time. Such a long time, in fact, that she perched on the window sill and started looking through the books on one of the shelves.

  Her nervousness fell away when she became distracted, and she stopped acting like a jittery foal. She almost forgot where she was.

  Half an hour later, Esther was sitting on the floor so she could reach the lowest shelf of the bookcase. She was looking through a collection of first editions with much interest. She didn’t often read, but she liked the smell of books.

  She put one of the books against her nose and breathed in deeply, with her eyes closed.

  “You still do that then?”

  Esther opened her eyes and looked up. “Rodrick.”

  His name spilled out of her mouth involuntarily, as she found herself gawping up at him. He put his hand out. “May I help you to your feet?”

  Esther swallowed. She expected him to look very different, and he did… in a way. He was aged, more slender, with crow’s feet around his eyes. But he still looked like Rodrick. She would have recognized him from a mile off.

  Esther took his hand and let him help her to her feet.

  “It has been a long time,” he observed.

  “Decades.”

  He gestured for her to take a seat, which she did. But after a moment, when she realized that he had no intention of sitting himself, she huffed out a breath and said, “You have not changed. Sit down.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I won’t be intimidated. Sit down.”

  It was a tactic she remembered him employing when someone surprised him with a visit. But Esther wouldn’t participate in his power games.

  Reluctantly, he took a seat, shaking his head as he did so. “Ahh, Esther,” he said. “What brings you here after so long?”

  “I think you know.”

  He quirked his brow. “I do not.”

  “Your son.”

  His brow furrowed. “George?”

  “What? No. Lord Philip.”

  “What has he done now?” Rodrick asked, with a sigh. He crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat.

  “Does he often make mischief?”

  Rodrick smiled a little. “He does.”

  “Then he’s his father’s son,” she replied, in a tight voice.

  Rodrick didn’t answer.

  “He has been courting my niece.”

  This seemed to sincerely surprise Rodrick. “And you want me to put a stop to it?”

  “No,” Esther said. “I want you to give your blessing.”

  It was over an hour before Rodrick understood everything that had transpired. When she tried to explain, in her own rapid and disjointed way, he’d frown and ask her to start over. They were both soon extremely exasperated. He had always been concise by nature, and Esther had always been the opposite.

  “So he had a bet on her?”

  “Does that surprise you?” She almost sneered it.

  “It does,” he admitted.

  “It is just the sort of thing you would have done,” she reminded him.

  “Well, yes,” he conceded. “But he was always more like his mother.”

  Esther frowned. “You must be jesting.”

  Rodrick shook his head. “He rebelled when he left for university, and even more so after his mother’s death, but he was always a kind soul.”

  Esther could scarcely believe it, but she held her tongue. She went on to explain about Edgar, and how she’d convinced Loraine to play with Philip.

  At this, Rodrick quirked his brow. “I suppose that was about me.”

  Esther’s jaw hardened. “Not everything is about you.”

  “But this was,” he said, with a shake of his head. “Oh, Esther, I do wish you wouldn’t bring my son into this.”

  “I know,” she snapped. “I know I shouldn’t have done it. But I did. And you can hardly blame me after what you did.”

  Rodrick went silent.

  “Well?” She bit out. “Are you going to deny what you did?”

  “No,” he answered, more softly.

  It bothered her that he said no more. She looked away from him, feeling her rage curdle in her belly again. Why had she come here? He was the same insufferable pig he’d always been.

  “Esther.”

  “What?”

  “Look at me.”

  Esther did, but out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t want to afford him the respect of facing him.

  “What happened between us was terrible.”

  When he said this, she did turn her face, involuntarily, so that their eyes could meet directly. Her lips parted, and her brow puckered. She felt afraid to hear him speak.

  “I know that I did wrong,” he confessed. Something she’d only dreamt of hearing him say. “But when my father ordered me to marry
my wife, I was too coward to refuse. But I never meant for it to happen that way. I never meant to-”

  To take her innocence and leave her. He didn’t need to say it, and she didn’t want him to. Esther swallowed, suddenly feeling terribly raw. “Do you mean it?” She whispered. “Are you sorry?”