Will jerked his head toward the door and Jack hurried after him. They burst out onto the pavement and hurried up the street, neither of them speaking until they reached the corner.
“Stop, stop!” Jack said breathlessly. He leaned against the wall to recover.
Will propped himself against the bricks, too, and blew out his breath heavily.
“No wonder the butler laughed at us,” Jack said.
“Right pair of fools, we must have looked,” Will muttered.
The silence built for a moment, as they revived. Around them, the nightlife of Paris was strumming. Like her streets, Paris’ night time entertainment was of an altogether different flavor.
“Did you know women did that?” Jack asked.
Will shook his head. “Only, when you think about it, it makes an awful kind of sense. After all, men do it. Together, I mean.”
“Some men,” Jack said darkly.
“I’ve heard some of them even wear dresses.”
Jack turned his head to look at Will in disbelief. “So in Paris, the ladies do it too?”
“We probably shouldn’t call them ladies,” Will observed.
“Most certainly not. I don’t want my nose broken,” Jack said fervently.
They both burst out laughing. The last of the unpleasant surprise churning in Will’s chest eased.
“Thank heavens we didn’t bring Peter with us,” Jack said. “Can you imagine the fuss he would have made about that?”
Will shook his head. “Paris…” he murmured with a sigh.
* * * * *
For a week, Natasha did not stir from the house. She cancelled all her appointments, which had not been many to begin with. Instead, she spent a lot of time with the twins and Lisa Grace. They were the only three children left in the house and even they were growing up rapidly. Daniel, the next oldest, was at Eton with Neil, who was completing his last year there before going on to Cambridge, where Cian was studying. Lilly, of course, was living with Elisa.
The girls adored having their mother with them and their happiness made Natasha feel guilty. She had always spent as much time with the children as they had seemed to need and they had thrived as a result. Had she been neglecting the girls lately?
To make up for any lack, Natasha told their governess, Adelaide, to take a week’s holiday while the weather was so glorious. Natasha took over their lessons for the week, although she was not nearly as rigorous in their application as Adelaide might have been. There was a lot of giggling and simple fun in that week. Corcoran spent most of the week looking upset, as he trailed after the girls, picking up, putting to rights and wiping off smears.
Elisa sent three letters, demanding to know why Natasha had failed to meet appointments they had in common, such as Lady Arrowood’s whist afternoon. Natasha wrote back, explaining truthfully that she felt uncomfortable about appearing in public so soon after yet another scandal.
Elisa’s third letter was far more direct.
Have you spoken to Raymond since the ball?
Natasha took a day to answer that one. When she did, she prevaricated.
I’m very busy with Lisa Grace, Mairin and Bridget.
She sealed the letter and dropped it on the tray before she could change her mind.
The truth was, every time she thought of Raymond, which was often, she thought of the kiss. It had been hovering near the front of her mind all week. When she relaxed, the moment would slide back into her thoughts and her body would tighten and her heart thud and the ache would return in a rush.
Then she would think of Seth and moan with self-loathing. At night, the empty pillow next to hers seemed to accuse her.
When Elisa wrote for a fourth time, insisting Natasha attend Sarah, Lady Bellfield’s at-home the next day, Natasha assured Elisa she would be there. Hiding away in the house was making things worse. She had far too much time to think.
Elisa sent a message saying she would pick Natasha up and take her to Lady Bellfield’s herself.
Natasha did not dispute the arrangement. Elisa was merely ensuring that Natasha would arrive as promised. It would be good to have a friend by her side when she finally faced the ton once more.
She donned her best afternoon dress. The skirt was a pale blue organza and the jacket was made of three different shades of blue, ranging from the blue of the skirt to a deep, midnight blue. Her bonnet was the same shade as the darkest blue on her jacket.
Elisa’s carriage arrived precisely on time. Elisa did not alight to step into the house to collect her. Instead, she remained in the carriage. Corcoran drew Natasha’s attention to the waiting vehicle.
“Lady Farleigh means to force me out of the house one way or the other,” Natasha told him.
“She is indominable,” Corcoran murmured and handed Natasha her bonnet.
Elisa smiled when she saw her. “You look lovely, as usual. That blue matches your eyes.”
Natasha settled on the seat next to her and pulled her skirt aside so the footman could close the door. “Is it at all shocking?” she asked anxiously, smoothing the skirt, as the carriage rolled into motion.
“Not in the slightest,” Elisa assured her. “I am sure no one blames you for what happened with the Duke, Natasha.”
“I can’t help but feel it was my fault,” Natasha said. “For years I have not had a single inappropriate comment or leer. I had grown used to not being seen and had relaxed and enjoyed myself. Then I lowered my dress, uncovered my arms and wore something other than black.” She shook her head. “I wish I had remembered how some men seem to think I am something they can play with.”
“You had forgotten because Seth was always there. He kept you safe,” Elisa said.
“He did. I am only glad Raymond saw what was happening.”
Elisa sighed. “So am I.”
“Really, Elisa?” Natasha asked her. “I thought you could not cope with the idea.”
“I cannot, although I am trying my hardest to find a way.” Elisa bit her lip. “If Raymond had not stepped in, though, you would have been far more hurt than you were. For that, I really am glad. How are your bruises?”
“They are nearly healed,” Natasha said. She glanced out the window and frowned. “Where are we? Is your driver using a different route today?”
“Possibly,” Elisa said, glancing out the window. “Tell me how your week of playing with the girls went. Your letters were short on details.”
Natasha described the lessons, the games and the silliness of the week. Her gaze was drawn through the window as familiar houses passed by, halting her narrative. “Why, this is…Berkeley Square!” She looked at Elisa accusingly.
Elisa peered through the window for a long moment. “I do believe it is,” she said softly and sat back, her gaze ahead.
“Lady Bellfield does not live on Berkeley Square, Elisa,” Natasha pointed out. Many of the friends they had in common did live on the square, including Raymond. That fact was making her heart beat harder. “Why are we here?” she demanded.
The carriage came to a gentle stop. A quick glance across the road at the houses there confirmed what Natasha suspected. They had stopped at Raymond’s house.
“Elisa?” she prompted.
“I grew tired of you hiding away,” Elisa said. She waved toward the door as Raymond’s footman opened it. “After you.”
Natasha stayed where she was. “Did you talk to Raymond again?”
“There have been as few letters from him as from you. In fact, he has been hibernating here. One might almost say he has been brooding.”
Natasha shrank back on the seat. “He has no idea we are here, does he?”
“By now, he will,” Elisa said. “Thomsett is a spry young man and won’t have dawdled to tell Raymond he is about to have visitors. There is no point in clinging to the seat, Natasha. Out you go.” Elisa pushed at her hip.
Natasha’s belly cramped. “What about Sarah, Lady Bellfield?”
“I told her we were both indis
posed,” Elisa said. She pushed again. “My lord, you are a rock, aren’t you?”
“I am not,” Natasha replied hotly. She rose and stepped out of the carriage, irritable and upset. “How could you do this to me? To Raymond?”
Elisa took her arm and almost dragged her over to the door, where Thomsett stood waiting, holding it open for them. “Inside,” she said firmly. “I refuse to discuss this on the pavement as though I were a fishwife shouting her wares.”
“Good afternoon Lady Farleigh, Lady Innesford,” Thomsett murmured as they stepped inside. “Can I take your things?”
“I won’t be staying, Thomsett,” Elisa said.
“What is this, Mother?” Raymond said.
Natasha looked over Elisa’s shoulder. Raymond was emerging from the library, pulling his coat into place. He must have been working in shirt sleeves. Elisa really had caught him by surprise.
Natasha realized she was staring at him, her gaze moving from toe to tip, taking in every detail. The heavy yearning billowed, making her limbs feel weak and her heart strain. It had only been a week since she had seen him, yet it felt much longer. His thick black hair looked disheveled. Even his dark eyes looked tired. Every time she saw him, she was reacquainted with how tall he was.
She shivered.
Raymond lifted a brow at his mother.
Elisa glanced at Thomsett.
“I believe I am needed in the kitchen,” Thomsett said and hurried away.
Elisa waited until Thomsett disappeared, then turned to Raymond. “You are both behaving like small children. Hiding away, licking your wounds because the world frowned upon you. You must have known you courted disapproval, yet you sulk when you receive it. Well, no more. I brought Natasha here today so you can speak in private. You and she must decide what you want, Raymond. Then you must hold up your chins and look the family and the ton in the eye.” Elisa turned to Natasha. “You did exactly that for me, once. For me and for Vaughn, even though it might have misfired and you would have been a social outcast for doing so. Now, I will do the same for you. Talk to Raymond. Decide what you want. Whatever you decide, whatever it is you want, I will stand by your side for the world to see and support that decision.”
She nodded at Raymond and turned to go.
Natasha caught her wrist, as Raymond hurried to open the door for her.
Elisa looked at her hand, then at Natasha.
“You would do that, even though you do not approve?” Natasha asked.
“My objections are all purely emotional,” Elisa said. She looked at them both once more. “I will not be the cause of your unhappiness. There are far too many others you have yet to face who will deliver their own suffering.”
She stepped out of the house and over to the waiting carriage and did not look back.
Raymond shut the door, leaving Natasha alone with him.
Chapter Nine
Natasha gripped her reticule. She felt frozen to the spot.
Raymond met her gaze. “Why don’t you at least take off your gloves and bonnet? Even if you return home immediately, it will still take some time for the carriage to be ready. You can be comfortable while you wait.”
Natasha wasn’t sure she wanted to move. She was gripped by a paralyzing mix of conflicting emotions. “I did not know Elisa would do this,” she said. Her voice was strained.
“I could tell that when I watched you arrive.” He held out his hand. “Give me your purse. Let’s begin there.”
She hesitated. Yet there was nothing significant about handing over her things. She did it many times a day. She held out the reticule on its cord.
Raymond took that and put it on the sideboard under the big mirror.
It was automatic, after that, to take off her gloves and remove her bonnet. Raymond put both of them next to her reticule. “Now, would you like tea?”
“Something stronger, actually,” Natasha admitted.
His smile was small, deepening the line on one side of his mouth. “That sounds like a very good idea. I have some madeira—”
“I would prefer brandy.” Madeira was a lady’s drink.
Raymond’s brow lifted again. “Brandy it is, then.” He waved toward the drawing room.
“The library,” she said. “The drawing room is too…”
“Formal,” he finished and nodded.
Natasha walked over to the recessed doors into the library and stepped inside. This room wasn’t nearly as large as Elisa and Vaughn’s big archive, yet it had the same sort of warmth. There was something magical about a room filled with books. People who read books, who owned them and cared for them enough to give them a special room were thinkers. Natasha had grown up without one, yet her years with Seth and his habit of reading anything that crossed his path had taught her to appreciate the wealth of knowledge a library held. A library always made her feel comfortable.
She moved over to the pair of dark green velvet armchairs arranged in the corner opposite Raymond’s desk and settled in one.
Raymond poured brandy into two snifters and brought them over to the chairs. He placed one on the small round table next to Natasha and sat in the other chair, his snifter in his hand. He crossed his knee over the other. It made him look relaxed. Natasha wondered if that was his true state and glanced again at the dark marks under his eyes.
“How do you fare, Natasha?” he asked. “Are you quite well, now?”
“Well enough. You look tired.”
He took a sip of the brandy. “I admit that sleep has not come easily to me lately.”
“Because of me?”
He frowned, looked down at the brandy. “Because of Rose,” he said shortly. He met her gaze. “Because I kissed you.”
Something shifted in her chest and tension loosened. It was relief. “I have been feeling as though I am the most despicable woman alive,” Natasha said softly. She groped for the glass and brought it to her lips.
“Because we enjoyed it,” he finished.
Natasha nodded and met his gaze once more. “Why did you tell the family about…us?”
“I only told them that I was involved with you in some indeterminate way. I was not indiscreet, Natasha.”
“I didn’t think you were,” she assured him. “Yet I thought we had agreed that our friendship should remain a secret.”
“From the ton, yes,” Raymond replied. “However, that moment with the Duke told me we will need allies, going forward. We will need safe haven. The family can provide both. I wanted to test their tolerance, to see if they could accept the idea of a possible liaison.”
Her heart jumped. “We have only spoken of being friends…”
Raymond’s gaze wouldn’t let her go. “What we have spoken of barely begins to plumb the depths. You know that as well as I. It is in your face as we speak, right now.”
Natasha dropped her gaze to her brandy. The glass was empty. She had not noticed how she had gulped it. She put the glass back on the table and rubbed her hand where the sharp edges of the crystal had dug furrows. “You said you would not force the issue, that I could set the terms.”
“I did not lie.”
“Is that why you have stayed away for a week?” she asked, able to look at him once more.
His gaze was steady. “I needed to sort things out in my own mind, before I saw you again. I have trouble thinking when you are in the room, you see.”
Her heart squeezed and her body tightened. She swallowed. “Even now?’
“As my mind is settled now, I can sit here and enjoy your beauty.”
Natasha could feel her cheeks growing warm. Many men had told her she was beautiful. Raymond, though, made it sound profound and moving, that he really did think she was beautiful and only wanted to appreciate that and not possess her, as the Duke of Urlingford had.
She touched her hair self-consciously. Until this moment, the white streak that had appeared there a few years ago, running from her temple, had not bothered her. Many ladies mourned their youth when they
spotted gray in their hair and would beat their chests and despair. Just not her.
Until now.
“That only makes you uniquely beautiful,” Raymond said.
“It makes me look old.”
“It makes you look like a woman who has lived,” Raymond assured her. “That is a prize no debutante can offer.”
She realized she was trying to hide the streak with her hand and lowered it back to her lap. “It just appeared overnight,” she confessed.
“When Seth died,” Raymond added.
She jumped. “How did you know that?”
“I saw it appear, too.”
“You noticed that?”
“I did.” He shifted, putting both boots on the floor and the empty glass to one side. “Shall we agree on something, Natasha? Shall we agree that we are both free to speak of those we have loved who have gone?”
Natasha drew in a shaky breath. “You would not mind?”
“Seth was part of you. He is still a part of you. No, I don’t mind. I would encourage it. You loved him. It has made you who you are and I would know all of you, if you will let me.”
Natasha met his gaze once more. “And will you tell me about the woman you loved?”
“Rose?” he asked, puzzled.
“Susanna.”
His jaw flexed. “Susanna is not gone yet.”
“For you, she may as well be,” Natasha replied. “Rose inspires guilt in you when you kiss me, because she died. I think it is Susanna, though, who has prevented you from sleeping and put those marks under your eyes.”
“You are right,” he said. “But not for the reasons you think. I will tell you about Susanna one day. I promise you I will. For now, though, I cannot, for the same reasons I refused to give anyone in the family details about you.”
He had refused because he was honorable and had given his word. Discretion was a part of his marrow, Natasha realized. In that, he was just like his mother. She would have to remember to point out to Elisa exactly how much Elisa had influenced her son.
There was clearly a similar impediment preventing Raymond from telling her about Susanna, even if he wanted to, which he said he did. It would be unfair to probe any further. “Very well,” Natasha said. “I will not ask about her again.”
Scandalous Scions One Page 13
