Lady Unveiled - The Cuckold's Conspiracy (Daughters of Sin Book 5)

by Beverley Oakley

  “Kitty! You’re on!”

  Jennie gave her a shove in the ribs and then Kitty was skipping onto the stage, a bright, jaunty smile in place; her lines perfectly memorized as her professionalism took over.

  And for the next hour, she stole the show and won the hearts of all those susceptible gentlemen and whipped up the envy of the ladies.

  Indeed, immediately the cast had received their applause and had been invited to stop for a bit of dancing, Miss Mandelton did hurry forward to clasp Kitty’s hand and exclaim her utter delight at seeing her “old friend,” while a pale and shocked-looking Silverton brought up the rear.

  “My dear Silverton, can you believe it, but I met Miss Bijou only a few miles from here when she rescued Poppet for me,” Miss Mandelton explained over her shoulder to Silverton, finally relinquishing Kitty’s hand as she added, “And what’s more, she took the naughty creature away to be cleaned so that Aunt Bertha wouldn’t be in a crotchet the rest of the way here. So that makes her a very kind friend in my book. Not many people would have been so thoughtful, so I can’t speak too highly of Miss Bijou.”

  “I’m sure your opinion is shared by many,” Silverton murmured longingly as he locked gazes with Kitty over the top of Miss Mandelton’s head.

  A smile and brief thanks were as much as Kitty could manage, and as soon as she could in all politeness get away, she wove through the crowd of revelers—guests and actors—to seek the sanctuary of the garden.

  Gulping in the cool evening air, she bent double, gripping the branch of a tree that overhung the terrace.

  And then the tears came from nowhere. Great, gulping sobs that seemed to suck the life and soul from her. She thought they would never stop.

  “Hetty?”

  Into the soft light, there emerged a figure. A slight, motherly figure with a serene face obviously mistook Kitty for someone else, for she did not stop for clarification before she’d drawn Kitty into a comforting embrace.

  “Oh, my lady, you’re mistaken. I…I’m not Hetty,” whispered Kitty as she waited for Lady Partingon to drop her arms and no doubt hurry away murmuring an embarrassed—or perhaps shocked—rejoinder.

  Instead, she felt the momentary stiffening of the lady’s arms about her. But they did not drop from her shoulders. And the voice did not harden. In fact, the very opposite happened as Kitty’s father’s ignorant but oh, so kind, wife, murmured, “You may not be my daughter, but you clearly are in need of comfort.”

  She didn’t even look at Kitty, just held Kitty to her, and it was so wonderful to feel a mother’s arms about her—for Kitty couldn’t remember her own mother ever having offered her affection like this—that she didn’t want to move away. Finally, when her sobs had subsided, and it seemed natural to speak, Lady Partington took her hand and led her farther along the terrace and into the shadows where she said, “Would it help you to tell a stranger what has made you so sad? You were truly marvelous on stage. I can’t imagine someone so beautiful and accomplished could be so sad. But you are from London, are you not? Perhaps you miss your family.”

  Kitty couldn’t meet her eye. She brushed her hand over the top of the low brick wall upon which she was resting. “I ran away from my family who disapprove of my calling, and I have a wonderful life. I’m not a bit ashamed of what I do, but I’ve fallen in love with a man who…cannot marry me, though his love is, I truly believe, equal to mine.”

  Kitty was not surprised to hear Lady Partington’s slight intake of breath. Then, with the faintest trace of suspicion, she asked, “So he has just left you? And that is why you’re crying?”

  Kitty shook her head. What did it matter if she spoke the truth? Lady Partington was in no danger of ascertaining Kitty’s true identity. And right now, it was cathartic to have the ear of one so clearly sympathetic, for, up close, Kitty was struck by just how kind and angelic a face Lady Partington possessed. In the moonlight, she looked half her age, and suddenly Kitty realized she didn’t hate the woman her mother had so bitterly denigrated her entire life. She even found herself able to talk to her with a frankness she could never have managed if she’d been talking to her mother.

  “He has to marry properly, and indeed there is a very worthy young lady to whom he has become affianced to please his family, but in truth, his heart belongs to me.”

  “And you mean to stay with this young man?”

  Kitty bridled at the inherent criticism in Lady Partington’s tone. What should she have expected, though? Kitty was just a lowborn actress with morals to match. Of course, Lady Partington would look down her nose at her. “He would have married me if it had been possible.”

  “Yet you intend to live as his…mistress…while he marries another?”

  “I will have his heart, and that is more important to me than status or position or his money.”

  “My dear, you may have his heart, but it is a poor bargain for all three of you.”

  Kitty noticed Lady Partington sounded distressed and was surprised. After all, she didn’t know Kitty. Kitty wanted to argue, but she held her tongue as Lady Partington went on, “He may think he will be happy, and that he can salvage his conscience by being all things to both of you, but if his heart belongs to you, what of his wife?”

  “She will have everything she could wish for, even his affection, I believe.” Kitty gulped. “But not his love, for that will always be mine and knowing that, it will be enough.”

  To Kitty’s surprise, Lady Partington gave her a little shake. “My dear Miss Bijou, I will offer you a confidence held close to my heart. ” She stared into Kitty’s eyes. “Only because I would not see another innocent sacrifice her happiness out of ignorance. Do not, I beg you, go ahead with this unhappy arrangement. You say he loves you, but that duty requires him to marry another? All three of you are condemning yourselves to a lifetime of unhappiness. Think of his future wife. She knows nothing of you, is it true?”

  “She is a sweet, simple soul. They are childhood friends. She doesn’t expect his heart.” Kitty was clutching at straws, but as she thought of Miss Mandelton, her own heart seemed to shrivel inside her. Lady Partington was only saying what Kitty, herself, knew to be true.

  “Does not his future wife deserve to enter her marriage full of hope for the future? Is she not right in hoping that theirs will be a partnership that will be rewarding and fulfilling, that they will be blessed by children who will bask in the affection of adoring parents?”

  “She will be given everything she could want. She will have his affection—”

  “His loyalties are already divided. He will resent one or both of you. The children he has by his wife and those he has by…by you, will never know the fullest extent of a father’s love as he juggles his double life, trying to fulfill his promises, but failing, not because he is inadequate or less of a man, but because it simply is not possible to give two women—a wife and a mistress—and the resulting children, what they should regard as their due. I speak from experience. I spent twenty years locked in a union without love with a man whose heart belonged to another. Yes, to a woman he would have married had his parents not prevailed at the last moment.

  “I wish to God he had married her for he resented me for what I did not, could not, know. I, who had never known love, entered marriage believing we could forge a future together based on a general liking and respect, which I naively assumed would blossom into love when our children were born. Nor was it only I and his other woman who suffered. The children suffered, too. Greatly. So, I beg you, consider long and hard what you are about to enter into. It can only bring the deepest pain, recrimination, and heartache.”

  Kitty stumbled into the ballroom. She’d been gone for some time, and now the actors who’d been allowed so graciously to hobnob with the grandees were being chivvied to disperse.

  There was Jennie in the arms of a footman, the butler at his shoulder. Mr. Lazarus looked like he was preparing to prize the pair apart, but the lad relinquished his hold at the last moment.
Kitty had little doubt Jennie would orchestrate some assignation for later.

  At the far end of the room she glimpsed Silverton; head bowed as he attended to Miss Mandelton. It seemed he was attuned to Kitty’s presence, however, for he immediately whispered something hastily to his future bride before making his way toward Kitty.

  She turned abruptly. No, she could not speak to him and possibly give herself away in front of everyone.

  And then, to her shock, her sister crossed her line of vision. Not Araminta or Hetty whose movements she’d carefully monitored but Lissa, her full-blood sister whom she suddenly realized how greatly she missed. She reached out and gripped her arm, pulling her to the edge of the room.

  “Lissa!”

  “Kitty, I’ve been looking everywhere to catch you alone!” her sister exclaimed, her voice low as she glanced about her to ensure their clandestine meeting was not observed. “Did you see Papa turn apoplectic? He’s gone now, of course. Couldn’t face the possibility we might acknowledge him before he had a chance to scuttle away.”

  Kitty nodded sadly. Once, she’d dreamed of making her father proud as she performed to wild acclaim. Well, she’d performed to such wild acclaim here under his very roof, but he’d been horrified and embarrassed.

  And now he was nowhere to be seen, though that was perhaps not such a bad thing. She noticed Stephen Cranborne eyeing her with mild alarm. Kitty very much hoped he’d not divulge her true identity to Lady Partington, who had every reason to despise Kitty, just as Kitty had despised her until this evening.

  Mr. Cranborne was her father’s heir, but Kitty had met him only once—when she’d tumbled out of a tree and landed at his feet the year before. Kitty had sought sanctuary there when she’d been trespassing and had heard her father’s voice. As she’d risen from her undignified landing, she’d declared to her father her intention to run away and become an actress. It was as if voicing the words out loud had made her dream a reality.

  To Kitty’s surprise, Lady Partington was suddenly at Mr. Cranborne’ side, and for a moment, she could have sworn her ladyship briefly clasped his hand in hers before whispering in his ear.

  Kitty turned, dragging Lissa away with her. Lady Partington mustn’t learn that Kitty was the daughter of her nemesis. As much as anything else, Kitty had a very strong desire that she didn’t want to cause anyone anymore hurt than had already been dealt tonight.

  “Lissa, where have you been? I’ve searched far and wide for you, but after you disappeared from the Lamonts, I was at a loss until Mr. Lamont painted my portrait and I saw your name on the back of his sketchbook.”

  “We cannot speak here, Kitty,” said her sister as she sought refuge in the shadows with Kitty. “It’s wonderful to see you, and I can’t wait to hear more about Mr. Lamont and about you, but nor can we reveal who we are to each other. You understand that?”

  “Just as Lady Debenham is going to great lengths not to reveal what we are to her. Not that she knows who I am—other than the actress who helped her the night her baby was in danger of being delivered too early.”

  “Oh, Kitty, I must talk to you, only not here. Where are you staying?”

  When Kitty mentioned the name of the inn where the theater troupe had bespoken rooms, Lissa nodded after a quick glance over her shoulder. “I must get back to my charge now. Tonight was Miss Martindale’s first evening out in broader company, but it’s her music teacher, Lady Julia, whom I must ensure doesn’t create a scandal. I can see Lady Partington’s bristles are already set up. Oh, Lissa, it’s so good to see you again. I’ll visit you if I can before I leave, but at least I know where to find you.”

  Chapter 8

  But it wasn’t Lissa whom Kitty expectantly admitted following a soft rapping on her door later that night.

  “Silverton,” she murmured, stepping aside reluctantly though her heart was at war with itself. She opened her mouth to tell him what she’d determined earlier that night, but immediately the door closed behind him, he swept her into his embrace, bringing his lips down to hers in a passionate, all-consuming kiss that brought her spirits soaring to the surface once more.

  Kitty went limp in his arms as he carried her to the bed, his passion for her greater than ever, it seemed, and she responded with equal ardor, though she knew what they had could not be sustained. Not after what she’d seen and heard tonight.

  He barely spoke but to murmur endearments and words of passion as he quickly divested her first of the simple night shift which was all she wore, before attending to his boots and coat.

  Kitty’s heart was in danger of tearing in two. Not one word of the parting speech she’d rehearsed could she say in the face of her rising need for the one man who gave richness and meaning to her life.

  But at what cost? How could she bear to share him?

  “I love you, too, Silverton,” she whispered against his lips, though not so loud he could hear her. She simply had to say what was in her heart. And to show him that she was his. For tonight.

  When her body was laid open to his loving, she closed her eyes and allowed her mind this last time to take her where this wonderful man took her every time. With his mouth on her breast, his right hand gently stroking her cheek, his left stroking up her inner thigh and then to that magic spot at the very core of her where her heart, body, and soul seemed to meet, Kitty clung to him, trying to muffle her whimpers of desire when he moved over her. She was ready for him. She was always ready for him for she loved him so dearly.

  Silverton claimed her, bringing her to an earth-shattering climax. For a long time afterward, she lay silent in his arms, every fiber attuned to his rhythmic, labored breathing.

  She must remember every nuance, the exquisite sensation of his heated skin, lightly sheened with sweat, his chest hair tickling her cheek, the wonderful essence of him wafting through her senses.

  He felt rock solid, and he was in so many other ways, too. But he would not be there in the way she needed him to be; not if she were to escape the miserable cycle into which she’d been born. She wanted children. Children born within wedlock. Granted, Lord Silverton would be a more constant and loving parent than her own father, Lord Partington, had been. However, while her children by Silverton would enjoy their father’s protection and affection, they’d not have his name and, in this world, one’s name was everything.

  And so she must leave him but dear Lord, making that break would be the most painful thing she would ever do.

  Kitty reached across to stroke his face and murmured, “Your conscience must smite you,” then gave a gentle, ironic laugh as she felt him stiffen, the only indication that her words had found a mark.

  “It’s not as I would wish.” He spoke with difficulty as he stared at the ceiling, one hand resting behind his head, the other tightening over her fingers as he turned to face her. “I love you, Kitty, but I am duty bound to Miss Mandelton.”

  “And to the rest of your family. I understand.” A searing pain ripped through her, but she showed no emotion as she stared into his eyes, mirroring the flickering candle that sat on a low table beside the bed. “I thought I could accept it, too. Your arrangement, I mean. I thought I only wanted your heart…that I didn’t need more than that.” She swallowed, trying to keep at bay the rising tide of emotion. “But I know, now, that it’s not enough. If I were to sacrifice my hopes of children, it would be different, but that’s too much of a risk and too much for me to accept.”

  He rose onto his elbows and turned to clasp her shoulders. “What are you saying, Kitty?” There was a hint of panic in his voice.

  “That I will never risk having a child who would be branded a bastard. I have endured that burden my whole life. And if I cannot be your wife, I cannot risk such a possibility as your mistress.”

  “You would leave me?”

  Her sigh felt as if it were dragged from her very depths. “I am leaving you, Silverton.” She felt like weeping but knew she must be strong. This was the only future for her. Gently she
stroked his beloved features, both to comfort him and to commit them to memory as she tried to strengthen her argument.

  “It’s not just the children we might have together…out of wedlock. It’s what I’d be doing to Miss Mandelton, too. After my performance at The Grange, I chanced upon a woman who confided to me the pain she’d endured as an unloved, legally wedded wife. I would not do that to anyone, and I would not repeat the situation my mother has endured for the past twenty years.”

  “We can make it work, Kitty,” he whispered as he pulled her into his arms, but Kitty shook her head as she stared over his shoulder at the wall.

  She repeated dully, “I want marriage, Silverton. I told you from the start, when we were simply friends, only it was such a strange and dramatic set of circumstances by which I became your mistress with you on the way to meeting the wife your family had chosen for you. I always felt confident of your love, but when you marry, your first obligation would be toward your wife and—when they start arriving—your children. You would soon be out of my reach. I can’t do it.”

  “I would always be within your reach. You have my heart, Kitty. You will always have my heart.”

  “But at what cost, Silverton? I’ve met Miss Mandelton. She deserves better than what she’d have to make do with if you remained true to me.” She brushed away a tear, adding, “What we have together is pure and true. I know you don’t love her, and I understand the duty that compels you to follow through on an obligation made a long time ago, but that’s not compensation enough for me.”