The Lady and Her Secret Lover

by Jenn LeBlanc

  “What do you take me for, a novice?” Perry asked plainly.

  “Perry,” was all Hugh said, and Perry raised his hands in acquiescence then ran across the lawn toward the house again.

  Louisa didn’t want to feel anything more. She didn’t want to know what had happened to her. She wanted Ellie, she wanted to go home, and she wanted to leave London and never return. She felt Hugh tip her face up to him with a gentle hand.

  “Louisa.” His other hand rubbed circles into her back then smoothed the hair from her face, his thumbs skimming her cheeks. She opened her eyes. “What happened?” he said. “If he ruined you, I’ll marry you. I will protect you. I only need to know if it’s necessary.”

  Louisa felt tears scorch her cheeks and she shivered. “He touched me.”

  “How did he touch you? Louisa, I ask because I wish to protect you. I’ll do whatever need be done to protect you. If he took your maidenhead—”

  “How do I know? It hurt. That’s all I know.” She clenched her eyes tight, tucking her head against his chest, suddenly ashamed.

  “Louisa, this is not your fault. Don’t be afraid to tell me—let me be your friend.”

  She nodded stiffly and began to speak again, closing her eyes and telling him everything she remembered.

  “Was it just rough? Or did it feel like flesh was torn?” he asked. As if he’d asked about cream or sugar. As if he’d asked her preference for dinner. As if he’d asked whether she preferred blue over lavender.

  She kept her eyes closed tight and nearly cried anew. “I’m torn,” she whispered. “I don’t… It hurt. What he did, it hurt. That’s all I know.”

  Hugh nodded and skimmed the tears away with his thumb. “I will call on you tomorrow, Louisa. You will tell me if there’s blood. That’s how you’ll know. If there’s blood…I’ll marry you. I wish for you to be sure, Louisa, because I know this marriage isn’t what you want, but I’ll not abandon you. I’m so sorry this has happened. Do you know who he was?”

  Her eyes snapped to his then as she thought back to her father, and the introduction.

  “Something Greek,” she said.

  “Hephas—”

  “No.”

  “Hippocrates—”

  “No.”

  “Hippolyta—”

  “No. Hepple—something. He’s from Shropshire,” she whispered. “But my father made the introduction. My father knew… I must be confused. I don’t understand,” she finished.

  Hugh’s arms tightened around her, pulling her into his chest.

  She stiffened at first and he looked down to her, but she shook her head and relaxed into him. “Just take me home.”

  He nodded against her crown.

  You will tell me if there’s blood, Louisa. If there’s blood, I’ll marry you. Louisa closed her eyes against the thought and hid her face against his chest, nodding once. His hands tightened on her to let her know he got the message without another word. She could take no more.

  The carriage door opened then closed. She heard the crack of a whip and they jolted forward. For a moment, they were silent.

  Louisa opened her eyes to find Ellie, pale as a ghost in the passing street lamps, a look of horror on her face. Louisa turned back into Hugh’s chest. What had Perry told her? Louisa wanted to hide then, to pop right out of existence. She’d been manhandled before, but never to this extent. She wasn’t sure how she’d allowed it to get so out of hand this time. She stared out the carriage window as the light from gas lamps slipped across them, one after the other, and thought about the last hour.

  “I am going to see the two of you to the door. I’ll call on you tomorrow. Will you be well on your own tonight?”

  “I’ll not be alone,” she replied as she glanced to Ellie. “Will I?”

  “No,” Ellie whispered, frightened but sure. “You’re not alone,” she said, and Louisa filled with a warmth that emanated from her chest, wrapped her up in a way Hugh’s arms could never do, and made the pain fade. His hands tensed against her back and she knew he wished to do more, but there was nothing more he could do at least not tonight. Really, there was nothing at all that he could do for her now.

  Ellie

  Louisa yanked at her dress, flung her slippers from her feet and across the room, tugged at her stockings, and started to cry. Ellie felt helpless in a bone-deep way she never had. The man, Trumbull, had only said they had to go, that Louisa was in the carriage at the mews with Hugh and that something had happened and they needed to leave. Ellie hadn’t had to guess once she’d reached the carriage and had heard what Hugh had been saying to her.

  Now she only wanted to comfort her, to make her know she was safe…wasn’t she? Ellie had no idea. Louisa had said it was an acquaintance of her father’s. Certainly her father hadn’t known he would do…what he’d done. Ellie stopped and shook all thoughts from her head. Louisa, Louisa needed her now, and she was standing here like a dumbstruck fool. She walked to her, wrapped her arms around her and held on. “Hush, Louisa, we’re home and you’re safe. I’m here with you. I’m here,” Ellie said softly. She kissed her cheek, stroked her back, listened to her sob into her neck, Louisa’s tears streaming down her back and chest from her shoulder. “I’m here, and you’re safe,” Ellie whispered.

  At least for now, she thought, because what about tomorrow? Or the next day? What then? Louisa would have to go out in society again, and certainly this man would be there. That was how it worked—the men were free to do as they wished; the women were not. The women were victims who had to remain silent or be shuttled off to prevent a scandal, an embarrassment to their family. She felt Louisa’s breathing calm, the hitching of her chest from her sobbing slowing as she settled.

  “Get these things off of me, please,” Louisa whispered.

  Ellie leaned back, brushed the remaining tears from Louisa’s cheeks then turned her gently and started on the buttons at the back of the dress. She worked slowly, diligently, carefully. She kept her touch light and loving, not wanting to remind Louisa of the man who’d violated her person. A tear dropped to her moving hands, and Ellie realized for the first time that she too cried. She swiped it away and breathed deeply, continuing on her task. When the dress fell to the floor with the underskirts and bustle, it was behind a blur of tears.

  Louisa stepped out of the circle of fabric, then gathered it in her arms and tossed it out the window to the streets below. “I never want to see these things again,” she said, then turned her back once more so Ellie could unlace her corset.

  “That may cause a ruckus in the street tomorrow,” Ellie said, trying to smile.

  “Doubtful. The workers are out all night. It will be gone before anyone of importance sees anything,” Louisa replied and she was correct. The common people who worked the night would never pass up the chance at such finery, and that gown and the trappings with it would bring quite a fair price wherever they attempted to sell them.

  The corset slipped and Louisa caught it, flinging it out to join the dress on the street as the door to her room opened and Abigail entered. Louisa jumped at the sound, and Ellie turned to her.

  “A bath, please,” she said, then Louisa sat on the bench at the dressing table and removed her torn stockings. She really did have good aim; not a single thing hit the edge of the window. It all went straight through.

  Louisa

  Ellie knelt beside her as she sank in the tub and she wished she could go back in time. That they could go back to when they were here last, together, peaceful and whole. Untouched, unruffled, undressed, unabashed, just her and Ellie and nothing between them but love. She curled toward the side of the tub, her hand against Ellie’s. Everything had changed.

  “What can I do?” she asked, and Louisa didn’t have an answer for her. She wished she did. She wished this was something that could be easily fixed, something that could be forgotten.

  “I don’t know. Ellie, can I have a moment?”

  “I’ll be right back,” Ellie said
and she walked out of the room.

  Louisa watched her go, then stretched out in the bath, let her hands search. Her cheek hurt, her neck—he’d shoved her face into the wall. She ran her hands down her arms. Her shoulder hurt—she remembered it hitting the ground when she fell. Her legs hurt like she’d been riding all day; she was sore like that, like she’d done too much. But it was more. She ran her hands up the insides of her thighs and remembered his rough, hard hands there. She would have bruises tomorrow.

  She rested a hand on her mons, simply held herself and closed her eyes and tried to remember how violated she’d been. Would she be forced to marry Hugh? Would he be forced to marry her? She looked down and saw the pink tinge of blood in the bathwater, and knew Hugh would do as he promised. But she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to ruin both of their lives. If there was any hope for he and Amelia, he should have the freedom to pursue her.

  She washed herself, determined. She would deal with the consequences if they came. But that man would never offer for her. If she was sent to a convent or a school, then so be it. At least it wouldn’t be here in London with all eyes on her.

  Ellie came back to the bathing room, a towel in one hand and a flowing cotton nightgown in the other. She’d managed to get out of her own clothes and dressed for bed.

  Louisa stood and allowed her to wrap the towel around her. “I think… I think I should return home. If anything comes of tonight, I don’t want any blame to fall on your family.”

  “Louisa—”

  “Ellie, I should go,” she said again and because it was Ellie, she nodded and without another word helped her to dress enough that she could leave quickly.

  Ellie

  Ellie watched the carriage pull away from her house, her footman nodding to remind her that they’d report back soon. All she wanted was to make sure Louisa returned home safely. She wished Louisa had stayed, but she couldn’t make her do it. She didn’t know what to do. She felt so helpless faced with this situation, the one that all the matrons harped on but none of them—not a single one of the young ladies—really believed would happen to them. And it didn’t, did it? It had happened to Louisa, and Ellie could do nothing to repair that.

  Louisa

  Louisa heard the knock at the door and gazed down to the front drive from the window seat in the gallery. All she could see was a top hat and capes over a tall, narrow frame. But the familiarity of the way he moved had her shifting forward, her hand pressed against the chilled morning glass.

  She went to the entry, preempting the need for the butler to find her, but when she walked to the balustrade and saw Hugh removing his capes and hat, she heard her father’s name and backed away until her back was pressed to the wall.

  He’d promised. He’d said he would come to her. He’d said nothing about speaking with her father unless she… Didn’t he need to know how she felt before he spoke with her father?

  Heavy shoes clicked across the entry as he was led to her father’s study, but she didn’t hear the door close. She waited until the butler shuffled off to whatever closet he stood in while awaiting his service then rushed the stairs and approached the room.

  “Baron Endsleigh. I’m not certain your suit is welcome.”

  No. She stifled any words by holding her breath, pushing a knuckle between her teeth.

  “Interesting, as I haven’t offered yet. I came to call on Louisa and thought it appropriate to speak with you first to make you aware I was doing so.”

  When she released the gush of a breath, she nearly toppled. Of course Ender respected her more than to go behind her back.

  “I find you calling on her unnecessary.” He was too calm.

  “She has a suitor then?”

  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” Her father was his ever-staid presence. He filled the room with a quiet menace, and she knew how dismissively he treated Ender. Probably sitting at his desk, continuing to write in his ledger while Hugh stood at the edge of his massive desk, not even asked to sit.

  “I’m confused as to how it isn’t. You’ve soundly rejected a suit I haven’t offered and refuse to let me speak with her altogether?” God, but Hugh was lovely as he stood his ground.

  “I haven’t refused to let you speak with her, yet. I’m stating that your suit isn’t necessarily welcome here, so you should tread lightly.”

  “I’d heard that any suit would be welcome at this point.”

  “Falsity. I’m Mayjoy. My daughter will wed per her station. She’s in no rush to see it done. We await the most appropriate offer, and it is not a lowly baron.”

  “Ah, I see. I appreciate your candor. So I’m welcome to your daughter, but not to marry her. Is that what I’m hearing?”

  “Sir, you try my patience.”

  “I’m attempting to discern to what purpose you believe my business if there is no purpose in seeing if Louisa and I would suit.”

  Heavy wooden chair legs scraped along the ruts long worn into the solid wood beneath the desk. Hugh had overstepped, and a shiver ran her spine. “You, sir, hang with the likes of Trumbull, who would be useful if he had anything to recommend him beyond his rakish behavior. He has little but money and connection to power. If you were friends with his brother Roxleigh, I might perhaps consider it because that family—”

  “Is one of the most powerful in England, as we all know.”

  “Yes. Well. Trumbull is the least of them, however.”

  “By your count, perhaps. But his worth isn’t determined by you.”

  “It is where my accounting purpose is for an advantageous marriage for my child. You have connections to Castleberry as well, childhood friends if I’m told correctly, and I usually am.”

  She knew Hugh tensed at the name of the man who would marry the woman he loved. An old contract to be sure, but apparently a contract the Duke of Castleberry intended to exercise soon. “Sir, yes. Our far estates bordered. We did grow up in the company of each other.”

  “I would be more willing to exploit that relationship than the Roxleigh clan—”

  “Because Roxleigh has shown to be inexploitable?”

  “If you are here solely to poke at me with your wiry fingers, you may see yourself out.”

  Louisa shuddered, Hugh shouldn’t annoy her father so; if he decided she wasn’t to speak with him ever again, she wasn’t sure what she would do. She’d be lost to the ballroom without comrades to protect her. Except Ellie…but there was only so much Ellie could do. They needed men to be truly safe, men they could trust, and Hugh was one of a very short list of…one. She thought Trumbull was honorable but his reputation precluded any sort of ability for her to even converse with him in public. That left Hugh alone.

  She turned back when she heard footsteps heading for the door. She hadn’t been paying mind to what was being said and should have. She ducked around a corner as a servant panel opened and the butler walked through like a clockwork soldier ready to mark the time.

  “See him to the front parlor and find Louisa, but they aren’t to be left alone,” her father said from the hall. So he couldn’t even be trusted to ruin her and force marriage? That was the contempt her father had for a decent man. Well. She’d see about that.

  She waited for them to pass and again until she heard the butler’s shoes clicking up the staircase and went to the front parlor, checking to be sure her father wasn’t still in the hallway.

  She slid through the door to the parlor and turned to find Hugh with a creased brow and tense fingers, awaiting her, and she remembered. She remembered the night before in perfect clarity. “Oh,” she said, then she took his hand as he helped her to the settee. She couldn’t meet his face. He knew. He’d seen—horrible things, God knew what all. She flushed and turned her body away. Perhaps he should go. Perhaps she couldn’t be around him anymore. Her chest tightened, and she felt a hand on her knee.

  “Louisa, I’m so very sorry for last night. I’ll never have the words to express how I wish it hadn’t
happened. I won’t force you to look upon me if all you see is that. I’ll see myself out as long as you believe an expedient marriage isn’t necessary.”

  “No,” she said, and she shrank into her clothes. He was only here for propriety, not for comfort. She’d read much too much into their ballroom interactions, she supposed. “It isn’t necessary.” Whatever came, she would find her way on her own.

  “Louisa.” She felt the warmth of him when he shifted closer. “I wish there was more I could do. I wish I knew what I should do.”

  She turned then and gazed into his eyes and saw those gentle, smiling eyes she always felt safe with. “I’m…frightened,” she said, and then she swayed and he caught her, holding her in his warm, gentle hold. This was what she needed. A friend. She needed Ellie. She’d left her last night and…oh, Ellie was probably overwrought today not knowing what to do.

  “I spoke with your father.”

  “I heard you. You test him too much, Hugh. I can’t lose what small bit of friendship I have. You don’t understand. If you anger him, he will see to it to ruin you.”

  “He would try. He seems to think himself more powerful than he is and he puts on a good, blustery show, Louisa, but let me tell you, darling girl, he is not the great and powerful man you think him to be. He’s merely good at performance. And now with the link between he and Hepple—”

  “Hepplewort.” She straightened and shifted, and Hugh’s hands fell away from her shoulders but rested close by. “That was his name. Hepplewort.”

  “Yes. He’s not a good man, Louisa. You should not be seen near him. I need you to be even more diligent than ever that you aren’t alone where he could find you and harm you again.”

  “And how am I to do that? My father handed me off to him as though I were a gift— I…” A chill ran her spine and she wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed tight. My father handed me to him. “Did he know?” she whispered, but Hugh didn’t answer and Louisa feared looking at his face to find the truth for herself. A sob broke her resolve, and Hugh caught her up, holding her close once again.