by Anne Herries
‘You should change before the countess sees you. She would be horrified. I fear you smell, Lottie.’
‘Yes, it was my intention to go straight up before seeing anyone,’ Lottie said and frowned. ‘I thought the countess was in London?’
‘She says she needs to speak to you, dearest—but please change before you see her.’
Lottie hurried to change. She knew that she must look terrible, but she had hardly sat still a moment these past weeks since Nicolas left. It would not be true to say that her heartache had eased, but she had little time to think of him, at least during the day. At night her loneliness was hard to bear, but bear it she must, for there was nothing else to be done. Nicolas did not want or need her and she must fill her life with good works.
Having changed into a clean gown and scraped her hair back into a knot at her nape, Lottie went down to the parlour. Henrietta was there alone, and her eyes went over Lottie with disapproval.
‘It seems there is not much to choose between the two of you,’ she exclaimed. ‘I came down to tell you that my godson is on a course set straight for hell and will not long be for this world if something is not done. Now I find you in hardly better shape. You have lost weight, Lottie. What in the world has got into the pair of you?’
Lottie flushed—she knew she had not bothered with her appearance of late. ‘Forgive me for not making more effort, Henrietta, but I have been working at the Hollow. I spent the day helping a young woman to move house and—’
‘Surely you have servants enough without working yourself to the bone?’ Henrietta frowned at her. ‘I thought you might see sense, but it seems you are no less stubborn than my godson—did you hear what I said about Nicolas?’
Lottie frowned. ‘I heard, but I did not understand you. Is Nicolas ill?’
‘Not yet, but he mostly certainly will be if he continues this way. He has been drinking and gambling, and I’ve never known him to be so careless of his appearance. I called on him the other morning and he looked terrible.’
Lottie’s heart contracted with pain. ‘I am sorry to hear that, Henrietta, but I really do not see what I can do about it. Nicolas would take little notice of me.’
‘You are his wife, Lottie. Do you not care what becomes of him? I have never seen him like this. I do not understand what has changed him—he is like a man possessed, driven to destruction. Indeed, he reminds me of his father just after the marchioness died.’ Henrietta’s eyes narrowed. ‘Have you quarrelled with him, Lottie?’
‘No…at least nothing that should upset him in the way you describe. I believe he may regret that he married me. He was not in love with me, Henrietta. There was someone else he cared for deeply.’
‘Are you certain of that?’ Henrietta looked puzzled. ‘He was always moody, of course. Not when he was younger, but these past few years—but then he seemed much happier. I really thought you were the perfect wife for him.’ She looked at Lottie intently. ‘Do you care for him at all?’
‘I love him with all my heart—but please do not tell him so. I fear I drove him away. He does not wish for a clinging wife.’
‘Ridiculous! What Nicolas needs is to love and be loved. If you cared for him, you would do something before it is too late.’
‘Would you have me send for him? I doubt he would come—and if he did I could not keep him against his will.’
Henrietta was about to answer, but Aunt Beth entered the room and she thought better of it.
Lottie was thoughtful as she handed out tea and cake. Was Nicolas really behaving that badly? Could he be upset over their quarrel? She had not thought it would affect him—or perhaps he was simply being reckless because he felt trapped?
It was a problem, for she could not simply ignore Henrietta’s appeal for help. Her mind was busy with all the alternatives as she went upstairs to change for the evening. If Nicolas wished to be free she would oblige him, but first he must be honest with her and tell her what he wanted from her.
Lottie did not think there was much point in sending for her husband. He would either ignore her or pay a flying visit that would do no one any good. For a while she could not think what she ought to do, but as she was dressing the idea came to her. She had not bothered to purchase many clothes, for she had thought she would have no need of them, but she had been invited to dine several times by her neighbours, and if she were to visit Bath with her aunt she would certainly need more fashionable clothes.
Her plan was bold and risky—Nicolas would be within his rights to be angry. She had agreed to his terms, which were that he would be free to go to London while she stayed here or visited the house in Bath. If she turned up at his London house on the pretext of needing to buy clothes, he would quite possibly be furious.
Well, if they had a row, it might clear the air. Lottie faced the prospect head on. If Nicolas wanted a separation he must tell her—otherwise he would simply have to put up with having her around.
‘Go to London to buy clothes?’ At dinner that evening, Henrietta looked at her in silence for a moment, then she smiled. ‘I think that is an excellent idea, my love. We shall all stay at Nicolas’s house while you refurbish your scanty wardrobe. If you will be guided by me, I think we can soon have you looking more the thing, Lottie.’
‘I think I shall need your advice if I am to acquire a little town bronze, Henrietta. I do not expect to become the toast of the town, but I should like to be well received.’
‘I see no reason why you should not be—and I know my friends will be happy to take you under their wings, my dear. People have been asking why you had not come up with Nicolas. I could not explain, for I had no idea.’
‘That is simple—my aunt was poorly, but she is recovered now, are you not, Aunt Beth?’
‘What are you up to, Lottie?’ Aunt Beth said. ‘If you do not mind, I shall stay here, dearest. I may pay your father a little visit, just for a week or two while you are away. He wrote to me and seems worried about your sister.’
‘Yes, of course. Go to him if you feel he needs you,’ Lottie said. ‘But please come back to me soon, aunt.’
‘I shall not desert you, Lottie,’ Aunt Beth said. ‘But I think you will do better with the countess in town. I have no wish to be racketing around.’
‘I dare say we shall not be out so very much,’ Lottie said innocently. ‘I may be gone only a short time—it depends on what I find…’
Lottie was thoughtful as she went to bed that evening. Perhaps she was a fool but there was no point in staying here pining for something that might never happen. Nicolas was obviously not going to return of his own accord. He might be furious with her, but that would be better than this silent indifference. If they were to part it would be better done now—though in her heart Lottie knew that she would never love anyone else.
She could not stand by and see Nicolas go to the devil without at least trying to discover the cause.
Nicolas stared at himself in his shaving mirror and cursed what he saw. He looked as if he had been dragged through the gutters the previous night; for all he knew, he might have been. He had visited various clubs, discovered that endless gambling bored him and returned home to lose himself in a brandy bottle.
The trouble was, he suspected, that he was missing Lottie. Her perfume seemed to haunt him and he was conscious of a hollow place inside that had been filled for a little time by her presence. He could not get her out of his mind. The drinking and gambling had done nothing to ease the ache inside him or the sense of shame he felt for having abused his wife.
She would hate him now, of course. From the very beginning he had done nothing but insult her—and that last quarrel was unforgivable. How could he go home, which was increasingly where he wished to be? Lottie’s clear eyes would show her disgust too plainly and it would kill him to know he deserved her hatred.
Of course he was not in love with her. Romantic love was a myth, but he had enjoyed her company and he wanted her affection—her respect. And though he
felt sure that he could never return it, he’d selfishly wanted her love.
Well, he had forfeited it and there was no going back to before that night, but it was time to bring an end to the mad behaviour of the past weeks. He would ruin himself or end up dead in the gutter.
Perhaps he would write an apology to his wife. If she accepted it, he could at least visit her sometimes.
Feeling better, he decided to visit the fencing master he sometimes patronised. It would sharpen his wits and get rid of the sluggish feeling, which was the result of too much wine of late.
‘His lordship said nothing of your coming, my lady,’ the startled housekeeper said when Lottie and the Countess of Selby arrived on the doorstep of the London house that morning. ‘It won’t take above half an hour to prepare your rooms—if you would step into the parlour and partake of some refreshments?’
‘I dare say my husband did not get my letter,’ Lottie said blithely, though she had sent none. Had she informed him, she was certain that Nicolas would have told her not to come. ‘We shall be quite content to sit and drink a dish of tea while our rooms are prepared, Mrs Barret.’
Lottie glanced around her as they were taken into a very elegant salon. It was furnished with delicate satinwood furniture inlaid with porcelain plaques and looked as if it might be French in style. Perfect for entertaining one’s friends, but not as comfortable as her parlour at home.
Lottie frowned, because she had been used to thinking of Rothsay as her home and that might change quite soon. She lifted her chin, putting on a brave face. Henrietta had spoken of Nicolas as being in a parlous state, but she would judge for herself when he came in later. It seemed that he was expected for dinner that evening.
What would he say when he discovered his wife had come to stay? Would he be furious and ask her to leave first thing in the morning?
Why should she leave until she was ready? Nicolas had bullied her into marrying him when she would have released him from the contract. Now he must just put up with the inconvenience until she was ready to leave.
‘So what do you think of the house?’ Henrietta asked. ‘Nicolas had it refurbished when he was first on the town. Personally, I feel it is stylish, but not truly a home.’
‘I think it is perfect for entertaining, though if I were often here I should like something more comfortable for the afternoons when I was alone.’
Henrietta laughed. ‘Lottie, my dear, I can see this is your first visit to town. The whole point of being in town is that one is never alone—one is always coming or going or entertaining. I dare say your boudoir may be more comfortable.’
‘My boudoir? Do you imagine I have one here?’
‘Yes, certainly. Nicolas must have prepared the master suite for the comfort of the lady he intended to be his wife. You may care to sit there sometimes—if you are at home—but I am sure that once I tell my friends you are here you will not have time.’
Lottie looked at her uncertainly. The countess seemed very certain that she would be welcomed into society by everyone. As yet, Lottie was not quite so sure.
‘Lottie…’ The door that divided her suite of very attractive rooms from those that Nicolas used when in town was suddenly flung open and her husband strode in. Her heart caught as she saw him, because she had temporarily forgotten how very handsome he was. ‘I could hardly believe it when Barret told me you were here.’
‘Nicolas.’ Lottie’s pulses raced as she looked at him. ‘I am sorry you did not get my letter. I hope you will not mind my coming up to town, but I find I cannot manage with the clothes I have. Though you were undoubtedly generous with the gowns you organised for me before the wedding, I have been entertained by most of our neighbours and if I am to take Aunt Beth to Bath, I need some town bronze. Henrietta was kind enough to say she would help me choose the right seamstresses.’
For a moment Nicolas was silent, his manner uncertain, as if waiting for something, then, ‘Of course I do not mind, Lottie. I told you that you would need more clothes, did I not?’
‘Certainly you did, Nicolas.’ Lottie kept her expression bland, wanting to give nothing away as she searched his face for signs of the depravity the countess had spoken of. He looked tired and there were shadows beneath his eyes, but at the moment he was sober and she could see no sign of desperation. ‘I dare say it will only take me a few days to be suited and then you may be peaceful again.’
‘Please stay as long as you wish, Lottie.’ She noticed a little pulse flicking at his temple. ‘Are you quite well? I think you have lost some weight? You look thinner than I remember.’
‘Perfectly well, thank you,’ she replied and allowed a cool smile. ‘You will not pull caps with me, Nicolas. Mr Masters said that you had given me a free hand—and I fear I have taken advantage. We have started work on the Hollow, using mostly local labour. I must tell you that one of the new houses is almost built and that terrible ditch has been covered in and drained into a cesspool.’
‘Masters wrote and informed me,’ Nicolas said, his eyes narrowed and intent. ‘I should, of course, have seen to it years ago—but for reasons I prefer to remain private, I favoured pulling the whole place down.’
‘It would be a pity to drive people from their homes when a few repairs and some rebuilding will make it a perfectly decent place to live. Now that the open ditch is gone I am sure everyone will be healthier.’
‘Yes, I am certain you are right.’ He hesitated, then, ‘Dare I hope—have you forgiven me, Lottie?’
Lottie wrinkled her smooth brow. ‘I am sorry that Sam Blake was killed, but you were not present and the law was on your keeper’s side. I have offered to set Lily Blake up in her own establishment in Northampton. There is no way I can make up for what she has lost, but I hope that in time she will be able to move on and begin a new life.’
‘I did not mean…’ Nicolas shook his head. ‘Then you do not hate me?’ he asked, an odd expression in his eyes. ‘You said it the last time we spoke.’
‘I must apologise for the things I said to you, Nicolas. I was angry but—I could never truly hate you,’ Lottie said. ‘I know that I have broken the terms of our agreement by coming here—but perhaps you will not mind too much just for a little while?’
‘I find that I do not mind at all,’ Nicolas said. ‘Do you have enough money? If not, you must send the bills to me. I would wish my wife to appear in society in a manner befitting the Countess Rothsay.’
‘Thank you, I shall try not to let you down, Nicolas.’
‘How could you do that?’ he said. ‘I have an appointment to play cards with a party of friends this evening and ought not to cancel it—perhaps tomorrow evening we could go somewhere together?’
‘Henrietta says we are invited to a soirée tomorrow evening, Nicolas. If you care to accompany us that will be perfectly acceptable—if not, then perhaps another time. You must not think that you are obliged to dance attendance on me. I am perfectly able to entertain myself—at least with Henrietta’s help I shall be.’
‘Very well, I shall not interfere with your plans.’
‘Or I with yours,’ Lottie said. ‘It is not unknown for a husband and wife to attend separate affairs, I believe.’
There, she was being the perfect convenient wife.
‘It is often the case. We should hold a dinner ourselves—if that is agreeable to you?’
‘Perfectly. We may attend some of the same affairs, of course,’ Lottie said. ‘It must be just as you wish, Nicolas.’
‘So we are back to that…’ Nicolas nodded thoughtfully. ‘Very well, my love. I see we shall go on just as before.’
‘I hope that we may be friends again,’ Lottie said. ‘Have you forgiven me, Nicolas?’
‘There was nothing to forgive,’ he replied smoothly. ‘I thought—but perhaps I was mistaken… I find I cannot read you as well as I imagined, Lottie.’
‘Perhaps as time goes on you will know me better,’ she said. ‘Pray do not let me keep you from your appo
intment, Nicolas.’
He stared at her uncertainly, inclined his head and went back through to his own room, shutting the door with a little snap.
Lottie stared at the door and wondered. Had she noticed signs of frustration in Nicolas? Could it be that he had missed her just a little?
Nicolas’s thoughts were in turmoil as he left Lottie to change for a quiet evening at home. He found himself wishing that he might stay with her and talk about the future for them—but his pride refused to let him speak too openly of his feelings. She seemed to have forgiven him for that night or at least to have put their quarrel to one side. In Lottie’s estimation, it seemed, the only thing needful of forgiveness was what had happened to Sam Blake—and it appeared that she had accepted he could not have prevented it.
Nicolas was still having Larkin watched. As yet nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be happening. The man went about his work in an exemplary way—but did he know he was being watched?
Damn it! He could not worry about such things when Lottie was suddenly here and in the next room. Her manner was no different than it had ever been—it was almost as if they had never quarrelled. He could not be certain whether she was indifferent or merely making things easy for him.
Now all he had to deal with was his hunger for the woman who would be sleeping in the room next to him for the next week or two.
Would Lottie be prepared to go back to the way it had been on their honeymoon?
Nicolas’s pulses raced at the thought. He badly wanted to go back now and kiss her senseless, to take her to bed and make love to her until they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Now he was being a damned fool! Lottie might permit his lovemaking, but she did not love him. She had told him she would never love him, even if he obliged her to do her duty. Why did that matter so much? Nicolas dismissed the notion that he might be in love with her. He wanted her, liked her, and appreciated her good qualities—but love? If he felt the kind of love for her that his father had felt for Nicolas’s mother, it would lead to nothing but heartbreak.
