Lady of Shame

by Ann Lethbridge

  She stroked his hair back from his temple, her smile soft. ‘You were her baby. She loved you. She did what she must. What any mother must. She gave you a chance at life.’

  ‘Damn it all.’ He pulled out a handkerchief, blew his nose and wiped his eyes. ‘Mon Dieu, what happened? I feel such a fool.’

  ‘No. No. There is no reason to feel foolish. Hush.’ She kissed his cheek. ‘I think the little boy who was lost just found his way home, that’s all.’

  She stroked his arm, patted his back. Nothing sensual or arousing. Just comfort. And he let it wash over him and through him while he tried to find himself.

  Finally she got up and poured him a glass of wine. ‘Only sherry, I’m afraid,’ she said as she put it in his hand.

  He took a sip. ‘It is perfect.’ He swallowed a mouthful. ‘Not as perfect as you, but excellent, nonetheless.’

  She laughed. ‘Thank you, kind sir.’ She bobbed a curtsey that reminded him of her daughter’s funny little efforts and he smiled.

  ‘Can you forgive me?’ he asked, suddenly wanting to say the things that were bubbling inside him, but not sure he had the words.

  She tensed. ‘Forgive you? For what, pray?’

  Curse it, what had he said? What did she think he was talking about? ‘Chérie, come here.’ He held out his hand and drew her down on his knee; he looked into those clear grey eyes and felt like a new man. ‘Claire, chérie,’ he whispered, ‘without you, I am hollow.’ He’d lost his English again. He wasn’t making any sense. ‘Je t’aime. I love you, Claire.’

  ‘You do?’ She sounded so doubtful it pressed down on his chest like a heavy rock. He deserved her doubt. He’d treated her abominably.

  ‘I came here tonight to explain why it could never be. Why you deserve so much more than me. And you do.’ The truth seared his soul. ‘Until tonight I was afraid to admit I needed anyone. When my mother left me, I told myself I was better off alone. Better to be alone than to be betrayed by someone you love. You freed me from a hell I didn’t realise held me in thrall. I can never express the gratitude in my heart.’

  ‘André, it is all right, you don’t owe me anything.’

  ‘That isn’t it.’ He opened and closed his hands, staring at knuckles still raw from his bout in the ring the day before, seeking the words he needed. It was so much easier to express anger than love. He took her face in his hands, looked into her eyes. ‘I need you, Claire. I need your generous heart. I need you more than I need air to breathe. You cannot know how scared that makes me feel inside. But it makes me feel free too. You gave me that freedom. The freedom to love again. It doesn’t matter if you can’t love me back. I will always love you.’

  ‘Oh, André,’ she sighed, reaching up to clasp her hands at the back of his neck. ‘We both have our dragons to defeat. My heart knew you were the right man for me the moment I saw you and Jane in your kitchen. But my heart has been terribly wrong in the past.’ A smile lit her face. ‘It is not wrong this time. I love you, André.’

  Joy filled his heart and flowed over and he kissed her until he was dizzy with longing and the bed beckoned, but there was more to tell and tell it he would.

  ‘Oh, chérie. What can we do? I don’t have the money to support a wife. I may not have it for years.’

  ‘Because you used it to save me.’

  ‘Because I could not bear to see you unhappy. Will you wait for me?’

  ‘For ever, if need be. But, André, dearest, it won’t be necessary.’ Her eyes gleamed with a wicked light.

  ‘What plot are you hatching?’

  ‘Crispin wrote to the regent telling him about a new hotel he planned to invest in and wishing he could let the prince be a part of it, but that all the shares were taken up.’

  He couldn’t grasp her meaning. ‘What hotel?’

  ‘Hotel du Valière. The prince insisted on putting up three thousand pounds, for a tenth of the profits.’

  ‘What? Are you jesting?’ It was the amount he needed. The amount he had given to pay Claire’s debts. ‘You never said anything of this before.’

  ‘No. Giles would have written and told you. After we returned to Castonbury, if you had not come today.’ She hesitated. ‘I did not want you to feel obliged. I wanted to know what was in your heart.’

  ‘And now you do.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, smiling. ‘I do. Your title will give our hotel great cachet with the ton.’

  He groaned. ‘I swore I would never use it. That I would make it on my own merits.’

  ‘Now that’s just plain silly.’

  He started to speak but she put up a hand. ‘If that is what you want, then it is up to you.’

  What he wanted was to make her as happy as she had made him. ‘If you think it will help us, then I will be a count.’

  She looked surprised. ‘You would take my advice?’

  ‘Bien sûr. Why would I not if it is good advice?’

  ‘André, you make me feel very happy.’ She pressed a hand to her breastbone. ‘In here.’ Tears glistened in her eyes. ‘Truly. You will let me help you with your hotel too?’

  ‘Chérie, I can’t think of anything I want more, except to relieve this overwhelming need to kiss you.’ And he did, most thoroughly until she could scarcely remember how to breathe.

  A knock sounded on the door and he cursed.

  She laughed. ‘It must be the maid come to help me pack.’ She made to jump up.

  He held her fast with a grin. ‘You are not the only one with secrets. Come in.’

  It was Giles who walked in. He frowned at them.

  André laughed when Claire wriggled on his lap, trying to stand up. ‘You find your aunt compromised, my lord. There is nothing for it but for us to marry.’

  ‘Is that a proposal, André?’ Claire asked, nudging him with her elbow.

  He kissed her cheek. ‘It is.’

  ‘I accept.’

  Giles gave them a comical look. ‘And I suppose you now expect me to inform my father.’

  ‘If you wouldn’t mind,’ Claire said.

  ‘I suppose it is the least of my worries.’

  The man sounded so harassed, André felt a pang of guilt. ‘I am sorry to impose on you.’

  Giles drew in a deep breath. ‘No. I’m only too glad to see Claire looking so happy at last. She deserves it.’

  ‘That is what I have been telling her.’

  She gave his arm a squeeze. ‘You too.’

  Giles rolled his eyes. ‘A little decorum please, Aunty Claire. You need to set an example.’

  Claire’s laugh made him glow inside. He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘I must go. It seems I have a hotel to organise and you have a daughter who needs to know you are getting married in seven days’ time.’

  ‘Seven days!’ Claire squeaked.

  ‘I’m sorry, but that is how long it takes to get a special licence.’

  ‘Only a week? Oh, my goodness. We have to get the house ready. Send out invitations. I need a dress.’

  This time André let her get up. He didn’t want to. He would far rather keep her there, close, where he could be sure he couldn’t lose her. But he knew he could trust her and he had to let her see that trust.

  He followed her up.

  ‘I’ll walk with you to Doctor’s Commons,’ Giles said.

  ‘Because you want to make sure I keep my word?’

  ‘No. To keep you two apart until after the wedding. We have enough scandals to keep hushed up without another one on top. Claire, be ready to leave when I get back, please.’

  André kissed Claire’s hands one at a time and then her lips. ‘I will be at Castonbury before you know it.’

  ‘And it will still seem too long.’

  ‘Yes, but it will be worth the wait.’

  He turned to Lord Giles. ‘I wanted to talk to you about a man named Webster. He was asking questions about His Grace.’

  ‘He is Sir Nathan’s man,’ Claire said.

  ‘I know of him,’ Giles s
aid. ‘He’s been hanging around the Dower House.’

  ‘Did you know he was interested in the state of your father’s finances?’ André said. ‘At first I thought he had something to do with Claire’s debts. His questions were very pointed.’

  ‘Really.’ Giles ushered him out of the room. ‘What did he want to know?’

  Epilogue

  The wedding breakfast was a small affair, only family and servants, held in Castonbury’s downstairs entrance hall, where harvest home was celebrated with the tenants. The mood was exceedingly cheerful.

  A wedding from one’s own home was far more enjoyable than a nightmare dash to Scotland, Claire decided, looking about her.

  While they were missing many members of the family, Phaedra was there, sitting beside Jane looking beautiful. On her other side, wearing her most magnificent turban, Aunt Wilhelmina was tucking into the dinner prepared by Jeremy. Lily sat further along with her father. She would make a lovely bride herself in a few months and her love for Giles was clear in her eyes every time their glances met. Which they did often.

  André had arranged for men and women from the local inn to wait on them and so the servants were all sitting down at one end of the table. Becca looked nervous. Agnes beside Joe Coyle was whispering and giggling. Daisy had baby Crispin on her lap, while his mother conversed with William Everett beside her.

  Lumsden and Smithins sat opposite each other, competing to look the most patriarchal and keeping a close watch on the other servants’ behaviour, while Mrs Stratton cozed with the new cook, a woman from the village.

  ‘A toast,’ the duke said from the head of the table. He staggered clumsily to his feet. Giles put out a hand to steady him.

  The company rose to their feet. All except Claire and André.

  ‘To my dear sister, Claire, and her bridegroom, the Comte du Valière,’ Crispin said. The title had gone a long way to settling the duke’s concern about their marriage. Not that André would use it every day. ‘The happy couple.’

  ‘The happy couple,’ everyone chorused.

  ‘To my mama and Monsieur André,’ Jane said, coming in rather late, but her little voice ringing clear in the huge room. She took a sip of the champagne her uncle Duke, as she called him, must have poured for her, and screwed up her face with a shudder to much laughter. The star on the ribbon around her throat caught the light of the overhead chandelier with myriad pinpoints of fire.

  Claire stared at it.

  André rose to his feet, glass in hand. Claire felt so proud of him. He was just so handsome. He exuded confidence and charm and seemed somehow able to include everyone in his smile. He glanced down at her and grinned. The shadows were all gone from his eyes. Every last one.

  ‘Your Grace.’ He bowed, elegant and courtly as always. The duke inclined his head, his smile broad as if he, too, had forgotten some of his sorrows on this happy occasion.

  ‘Lords, ladies, mesdames et messieurs,’ he continued. ‘Et mes amis.’ Some of the servants groaned.

  ‘In English,’ Joe Coyle shouted, and received a repressive look from Lumsden.

  ‘My friends,’ André said, acknowledging the boy. ‘Thank you for attending what is the happiest day of my life. I wish all of you the same happiness et bonne chance.’ His grin broadened. ‘Good luck for those of you not fortunate enough to speak French.’

  More groans.

  He raised his glass. ‘To my wife. My dearest heart. My Claire.’ He leaned down and kissed her to the sound of cheers. Then sat down hard when she pulled on his arm. He laughed and she laughed with him.

  The servants began clearing away and an orchestra began setting up at one end of the room.

  ‘There will be dancing?’ Daisy asked, her face lighting up.

  Talk and laughter rippled up and down the table. Claire took advantage of it, leaning closer to her new husband. ‘André, is that star you gave to Jane set with real diamonds?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You said you bought it in a pawn shop.’

  ‘I did. It was my father’s. Sold off by one of the mob who destroyed my home, no doubt. It was an act of providence that I found it at all. It was grimy and labelled as tin.’

  ‘Providence indeed. But it is a family heirloom, surely?’

  He looked at her, his expression soft, his eyes full of love. ‘Jane is my family.’

  She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Not done, of course, really not done in the best of circles, but they were not in the best of circles, were they? They were with their family.

  Cheers and the drumming of hands on the table and feet on the floor lasted as long as their kiss, which lasted a very long time.

  * * * * *

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  Read on to find out more about

  Marguerite Kaye

  and the

  series…

  Ann Lethbridge has been reading Regency novels for as long as she can remember. She always imagined herself as Lizzie Bennet, or one of Georgette Heyer’s heroines, and would often recreate the stories in her head with different outcomes or scenes. When she sat down to write her own novel it was no wonder that she returned to her first love: the Regency.

  Ann grew up roaming Britain with her military father. Her family lived in many towns and villages across the country, from the Outer Hebrides to Hampshire. She spent memorable family holidays in the West Country and in Dover, where her father was born. She now lives in Canada, with her husband, two beautiful daughters and a Maltese terrier named Teaser, who spends his days on a chair beside the computer, making sure she doesn’t slack off.

  Ann visits Britain every year, to undertake research and also to visit family members who are very understanding about her need to poke around old buildings and visit every antiquity within a hundred miles. If you would like to know more about Ann and her research, or to contact her, visit her website at www.annlethbridge.com. She loves to hear from readers.

  Previous novels by this author:

  THE RAKE’S INHERITED COURTESAN**

  WICKED RAKE, DEFIANT MISTRESS

  CAPTURED FOR THE CAPTAIN’S PLEASURE

  THE GAMEKEEPER’S LADY*

  MORE THAN A MISTRESS*

  LADY ROSABELLA’S RUSE**

  THE LAIRD’S FORBIDDEN LADY

  And in Harlequin® Historical Undone! eBooks:

  THE RAKE’S INTIMATE ENCOUNTER

  THE LAIRD AND THE WANTON WIDOW

  ONE NIGHT AS A COURTESAN

  UNMASKING LADY INNOCENT

  DELICIOUSLY DEBAUCHED BY THE RAKE

  A RAKE FOR CHRISTMAS

  And in Harlequin® Historical eBooks:

  PRINCESS CHARLOTTE’S CHOICE

  *linked by character

  **linked by character

  Author Q&A

  Apart from your own, which other heroine did you empathise with the most? And which hero did you find the most intriguing?

  All of the heroines are fascinating in their own way, but I think Phaedra is one of my favourites. I like that she is such a tomboy. I must also say I have a bit of a crush on Giles. He is such a great brother and he not only has his own troubles, he is stuck with a great many he did not expect as a second son. He is very kind to my heroine.

  What is your heroine’s favourite childhood memory of Castonbury Park?

  Claire spent much of her time alone at Castonbury. Her own siblings were grown up while she was still in the schoolroom, so she loved it when Giles, Harry and the rest of the Duke’s family came to visit Claire’s father—their grandfathe
r. They were all about the same age and she really enjoyed rattling around the grounds with them.

  Which Montague do you think Mrs Stratton the housekeeper let get away with the most?

  Edward—he was the youngest and a great favourite with the whole family.

  Which stately home inspired Castonbury Park and why?

  Kedleston Hall was our inspiration for the house. Some of the authors had visited the house and so were able to give the rest of us insight into the architecture and layout. Its unusual design gave us lots to work with, both with the upstairs and the downstairs members of the family.

  Where did you get the inspiration for Claire and André?

  I had just taken a class about Regency cooking through the Beau Monde, a group of authors who write and study the regency era, and was aware of the influx of French chefs into England around this time —particularly Carême, who was employed first by Napoleon and then by the Prince Regent. And what woman wouldn’t fall for a tall, dark Frenchman who can cook? I also thought it would give an interesting dynamic to write about such a unique upstairs downstairs-relationship.

  Claire took me a bit by surprise. I knew a heroine with a daughter would make for an interesting journey for André, but I did not expect her to be sister to the Duke. She just walked up that drive holding Jane’s hand as I started writing the story and told me who she was and why she was coming back.

  What are you researching for your forthcoming novel?

  I am digging around in Cornwall—literally going underground. I visited a Cornish tin mine and it gave me some ideas. Tin mining and smelting was at its height in Cornwall during the Regency and, since my heroine is a teacher, she is very worried about the children who work in such dangerous places, as well as the owner of a mysterious house who seems bent on making her life difficult.

  What would you most like to have been doing in Regency times?

  Oh, that is a hard question to answer. I think I would want to be married to a fabulously loving husband, who would encourage me to do exactly what I wanted to do. Which is just how I am now. I am happy to say there were many writers in this era, from the bluestocking Mary Wollstonecraft and her daughter Mary Shelley through to Maria Edgeworth and Ann Radcliffe, and of course Jane Austen. These women were all well read, and all brought a voice to the women of their time. I would like to think I could join them in my own way.