A Gift From a Goddess

by Maggi Andersen

  “It’s nothing,” Emmy said, her lip trembling.

  “No long carriage rides,” Colin said firmly.

  “Oh, Lewis,” Emmy put a hand to her mouth, “I hate to miss your wedding.”

  “I am sorry, too, Emmy. I shall bring Hebe to meet you when we return to London.”

  Emmy cast an anxious glance at Colin. “We wish you every happiness, Lewis. Don’t we, Colin?”

  “Indeed we do,” Colin said.

  When Lewis left, he feared his marriage might cause Emmy more anxiety than when he remained stubbornly single. Was she completely well? He had expected them to attend his wedding and perhaps should have insisted it be held in London. But better surely to hold it as far away as possible from the ton’s gossips and return quietly to London afterward.

  The next day, Lewis left London at the crack of dawn. His coach passed through the tall gates of Longford House before luncheon and drove along an avenue of aged oaks toward a rambling old house built several centuries ago. The estate, not far from Tunbridge Wells, had a fine park, the formal gardens well-tended.

  A footman stood waiting at the door as the coach was driven away to the stables.

  Lewis removed his hat and gloves and handed the liveried footman his card. “Lord Chesterton.”

  “You are expected, milord. Please come this way.”

  He followed the servant up the stairs. The drawing room had a low beamed ceiling and was furnished in the old style, with heavy furniture and velvet drapery. The earl sat by the fire, a shawl around his shoulders. A fusty smell lingered in the air. “Lord Chesterton, milord,” the footman announced.

  “Close the door, confound it, Joseph. You’re causing a draft.”

  “Don’t just stand there,” he said gruffly to Lewis. “Come over here into the light.”

  Lewis strode across the carpet and offered the gentleman his hand. “My lord, it’s good to meet you.”

  Longford peered up at him, his aged face creased into lines of discontent, his grip weak, his skin papery and cool. “I don’t know why it should be. No one wants to visit a sick old man. I’ve been forgotten long before I’m dead.”

  Lewis wasn’t sure how to reply to that.

  “Well, sit down.” Longford waved his cane at the armchair opposite him.

  Lewis sat. He could do with a drink, but apparently wasn’t about to be offered one. He trusted his coachman and groom fared better.

  “So you are Chesterton,” his lordship stated. Unnecessarily, Lewis thought. Was he about to have his past dredged up?

  “I am, sir.”

  “You are to marry my granddaughter, I’m told.”

  “This coming Sunday.”

  “Good of you, considering,” he said stroking his chin.

  “I consider myself fortunate indeed,” he said. It appeared the man didn’t care tuppence about Hebe.

  “I daresay. She has no dowry. I wish to make that plain.”

  “I have no expectation of one.”

  The old man nodded. “Love match then. I believe she’s turned into a beauty, like her mother. Society won’t accept her though, because of the scandal. But you’d know that.”

  Lewis wanted to leap to her defense, but feared it would make matters worse. The man was a curmudgeon.

  Lewis cleared his throat. “I am to drive Lady Forth to Brighton.”

  “I am aware of it.” The earl snorted. “But I don’t have to like it. She’s been looking after me. Does a fine job too. I’d discharged two nurses before she came.”

  So Lady Forth was now living in a better house, but as a servant to a recalcitrant old man, Lewis thought bemused. Well, he’d see about that. “Might I speak with Lady Forth?” he asked. “We will have to leave for Brighton soon.”

  Longford picked up the bell on the console table beside him and rang it. When the door opened, he instructed his footman to fetch her.

  Lady Forth must not have been far away, for a moment later she appeared. She was an older version of Hebe, her fair hair, and blue eyes a little faded by the years and her face marked by the anguish she’d experienced. Lewis bowed over her hand.

  She gazed speculatively up at him. “It is good to meet you, Lord Chesterton. I am packed and ready. Do you wish for a bite to eat before we depart?”

  “I would appreciate it, thank you. And something for my coachman and groom if you will.”

  She gave the order to the footman then went to a table to pour medicine for Longford. The old man opened his mouth and took it from her spoon without a murmur.

  Lady Forth came to sit on the sofa. “I have many questions, my lord, but they shall have to wait until we are on our way.”

  “You will come back immediately after the wedding, won’t you, Abigail?” Longford sounded querulous, his pale blue eyes vulnerable.

  “Of course. Didn’t I promise?” Hebe’s mother said placidly. How like Hebe she was, Lewis thought. The same calm acceptance of her lot. Did she really want to return to this mausoleum and this cranky old man?

  Longford nodded. “I shall expect you. If I am still above ground.”

  Abigail came to pat his hand. “Of course you will. You are getting better. I’m only sorry you cannot attend Hebe’s wedding with me.”

  He scowled. “Weddings! Bah!”

  After a strained hour spent eating chicken pie and salad and imbibing coffee in the dining room while his lordship picked at his food, Lewis said his goodbyes to the disgruntled Longford and escorted Lady Forth to his coach.

  “The earl is not a happy man, is he?” he asked as the horses took off down the drive.

  “No, losing his son has destroyed his peace of mind,” she said. “I feel sorry for him.”

  “I suspect you are a paragon, Lady Forth,” Lewis said with a grin.

  She shook her head. “The reason I came here was to ask for his help. We have been in difficult straits since my husband died. I’m sure Hebe would have told you.”

  He nodded.

  “But I’ve come to understand my husband’s father a little better. He is a bitterly disappointed man.”

  “You don’t have to live at Longford if you don’t wish to. You are most certainly welcome to live with Hebe and me.”

  “You are very kind, my lord,” she said. “But I must return here. Longford is estranged from his daughter, Prudence. I hope to see matters mended between them before he dies.”

  Lewis didn’t comment for he rather doubted such a rift, whatever the cause, between the eccentric lady and irascible old man would be easily mended.

  Lady Forth rested her gloved hands in her lap. “As we must spend some hours together, Lord Chesterton, I should like to know more about you.” She smiled to soften the words, but she looked determined. Lewis groaned inwardly. What he was able to tell her, without giving away Hebe’s secrets, one might write on the head of a pin.

  By the time they approached Brighton, Lewis had made a small amount of information stretch to its absolute limits. While not lying precisely, he’d omitted meeting Hebe in London and anything about his sordid past. Instead, he told her mother about his sculpting, his London house, his estate, his sister, his cat, and his dogs, hoping the good lady might drop off to sleep. She remained bright eyed and inquisitive, however, asking all manner of intelligent questions. His sympathy for her, and for women who through circumstances beyond their control had found themselves in a similar position, deepened. A practical woman, he struggled to convince her that his marriage to Hebe was for all the right reasons.

  The coach pulled up outside Lady Prudence’s house in the early evening where candlelight brightened the windows. The door opened, and the big servant lumbered over to heft the trunk down as Hebe and Aunt Prudence appeared at the top of the steps.

  Hebe hurried to hug her mother. “Are you well, Mama?”

  “I am very well, my dear.”

  “Did you have a good journey? You are just in time for dinner,” she said, finally turning to Lewis.

  He placed a
hand on her slim shoulder and pressed a brief kiss on her cheek. “Excellent. I am famished. And afterward I shall take myself off to the Old Ship Hotel.”

  Hebe took his arm with a worried glance and walked with him into the house. “I must tell you all about Aunt Prudence’s wedding arrangements. She has done a splendid job sending out invitations to I don’t know how many people.”

  His bride to be didn’t appear to be happy, Lewis noted. “I am eager to hear it.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  After dinner, Hebe sat with Lewis on the terrace. The night was pleasantly warm. Crickets chirped in the garden and moths fluttered around the lanterns. She felt a little like a moth herself drawn to the man beside her. “Might Lord and Lady de Lacy come to Brighton?”

  “I’m afraid not. My sister is expecting a baby, and the doctor forbids long journeys.”

  “Oh, a baby! That is wonderful news, Lewis.” She had met Lady de Lacy during her first Season in London and found her charming. “Will many of your friends and relatives attend our wedding?”

  “Hebe.” He took her hand, rubbing a thumb along the underside of her wrist. If he discovered the fast beat of her pulse, he didn’t acknowledge it. “I wanted to invite everyone of my friends and relatives to our wedding. But in the end I decided against it.”

  She drew in a breath. She was relieved, but struggled with the conviction that it was her shameful past. “Because of my family?”

  He frowned. “No. Because of this business with Marigold. I had a visit from the Bow Street Magistrate. The circumstances surrounding her death appear more complicated than we anticipated. It’s possible the investigation could drag me into it, and by association, you.”

  “Goodness.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “There’s been a suggestion that Marigold’s murder is linked in some way to Lady Chesterton’s.”

  Hebe stared at him. In the flickering golden light of the lantern she could not make out his expression, but the timber of his voice told her how concerned he was. “They don’t believe it was Crabbe?”

  Lewis explained what he had learned from Sir Robert Baker.

  “So nothing has changed,” she said with a sigh.

  “It is far better for us to return to London quietly as a married couple. I hope to keep news of our wedding from the newssheets and prevent a storm of interest settling on you.”

  “Oh yes, I see.” And to a certain extent she did. But she couldn’t help wondering if he was dismayed at the idea of marrying her and was just making a good fist of it.

  He took a jewel box from his pocket and flipped it open with his thumb. A diamond ring sparkled in the light. “Lewis, it’s lovely!”

  He slipped the ring on her finger. “Good. It needs no alteration.”

  She held her hand up to the light from the lantern and sighed as it flashed like brilliant fire. She looked up wanting him to kiss her, which he promptly did. A light touch of their lips, not the passionate kiss she yearned for.

  He drew her close. It seemed more of a protective gesture than desire on his part. Nevertheless, she liked to sit within the circle of his arm. She breathed in his clean male smell, finding it comforting while at the same time, unsettling.

  “Who is escorting you down the aisle?”

  “I don’t have anyone, Lewis. I don’t think Aunt Prudence would suit.”

  “I thought as much. I’ve invited a friend from my university days, Viscount Burns. Alistair has an estate not far away in East Sussex. Would you agree to have him take your father’s role? He would be honored.”

  A strange man leading her down the aisle? She almost said no, but the prospect of walking alone seemed even more daunting. “That is good of him. I would appreciate it.”

  Lewis nodded. “Once this matter has been laid to rest, and the murderer has been found, we will hold a ball and invite everyone.” His low voice rumbled in his chest near her ear. “At which I shall be very proud to introduce my beautiful wife.”

  One word sent prickles spiraling down her spine. “A ball? That would mean the haute ton would gather in one place and ogle her. There would be taunts and titters behind fans and a constant rehashing of her father’s suicide. She could almost see and hear it.

  “An excellent idea don’t you agree?” Lewis said. “Everyone who meets you will understand why I married you.”

  Why was he marrying her? He still hadn’t precisely said. She took a deep breath. This ball might be months, years away. They may never find out who killed poor Marigold. Although she prayed they would. And solve Lady Chesterton’s murder too, for Lewis’ sake. It seemed unlikely that the same person committed both murders.

  Lewis stood and drew her to her feet. “I am very much looking forward to our wedding, sweetheart.”

  “Are you sure you want to go ahead with this, Lewis? I shan’t hold you to it if you have given it more thought and changed your mind.”

  “I have not changed my mind.” He gazed down at her. “Have I not made my reasons abundantly clear? I need you. And more than that, I want you for my wife.”

  She shook her head doubtfully.

  He sighed. “Hebe.” He held her close and kissed her lightly on the lips. “The marriage has been horribly rushed. We must be patient with each other. I consider myself the most fortunate of men.”

  Did he really? It was not what she wanted to hear, but she could think of nothing to say in response. She drew in a breath at the touch of his mouth on hers. His kisses affected her more than they apparently did him. “And I, the most fortunate of women,” she said, wanting to throw her arms around his neck and tell him she loved him.

  He laughed and chucked her under the chin. “Sweet Hebe. I had best depart for my lonely hotel chamber.”

  Early, on the morning of the wedding the weather looked threatening. Hebe glanced out of the window again an hour later and saw the clouds were scudding away. In any event, their drive to Brighton would be comfortable and dry as Lewis had promised to send his coach to collect them. She tried to swallow away the ever-present lump blocking her throat, hoping she would find her voice for her marriage vows.

  “You look lovely, Hebe.” Her mother adjusted the circlet of pearls in Hebe’s curls. “I’m so pleased you chose this embroidered cream silk satin, and the beautiful lace. It is in perfect taste.”

  Hebe glanced at her mother’s face in the mirror. Mama was no longer in contact with her old friends, and her family had disowned them, so there was no one she would want to invite to the ceremony. But she might have wanted to organize Hebe’s wedding. When Aunt Prudence took control of the affair, should Hebe have insisted her mother was first consulted? But she hadn’t been sure if it was even possible for her mother to come to Brighton. Hebe smiled at her in the glass. “It’s so wonderful to have you here, Mama. Do you really have to go back to Longford?”

  Her mother smoothed a piece of wayward lace on Hebe’s sleeve. “Yes. I am perfectly content, Hebe. Your grandfather is ill. It’s my duty to care for him. Grieving for his son and estranged from his daughter has brought him very low. And he worries about his finances although according to his business manager they are quite sound. I must confess I like being needed again.” She smiled into the mirror. “You and your new husband will wish to be alone. It is only natural.”

  The thought sent a wave of apprehension passing through her. Her heart galloped.

  “You are happy you’re marrying him?” Mama asked again, sensing her change of mood.

  “Of course! Isn’t Lewis absolutely wonderful?” Hebe knew her burst of enthusiasm wouldn’t fool her mother. “And so handsome.”

  “He is all that,” Mama agreed, but her eyes searched Hebe’s while she secured the pearl necklace at Hebe’s nape. “He’s a bit of a mystery though. I suspected there was much he wasn’t telling me. And I wish the wedding wasn’t so rushed.”

  Hebe wanted to tell her mother how it all came about. The way Lady Stowe had behaved and how it aff
ected Aunt Prudence sending her on a quest to see Hebe married. She didn’t. Her mother had enough to worry about. “Once we’d decided to wed we saw no reason to delay.”

  “No, of course not.” Mama kissed her cheek. “I am thrilled for you, dearest.”

  Aunt Prudence entered the room with a bouquet of pale camelias for Hebe and a box containing one perfect white orchid for her mother. “These have just arrived from your intended. Her aunt wore an identical orchid pinned to the bodice of her purple gown.

  “How nice of him,” Mama said taking the box.

  “Look inside,” Aunt Prudence said.

  “My! Diamond earrings!” Mama read the card. “I shall have to thank him. I see you are wearing yours, Prudence.”

  “Lewis is very generous.” Hebe held the fragrant bouquet to her nose. “These smell heavenly.”

  “It’s time to leave, Hebe,” her aunt said briskly. “His lordship’s coach has arrived.”

  In Brighton, the sun danced bright lights over the sea opposite the Old Ship Hotel. The small wedding party made their way to the ballroom where the vicar, the groom, and Viscount Burns a man of average height with red hair, waited. He hurried over to her.

  “Miss Fenchurch,” he said with a smile. “I apologize that we have not been introduced, but a groom should not see his bride before the wedding. And we do not want to risk bad luck. I am honored to have been asked to perform this special task. May I offer you my arm?”

  “Thank you, Lord Burns.” She rested her white gloved hand on his arm, and when the organ music began, they walked down the aisle. Hebe was conscious of the guests filling the seats. She’d met some at the assembly but couldn’t recall their names. And there was the unpleasant Lady Stowe whose goading of her aunt had brought this wedding about. Hebe’s glance slid away from the gray-haired lady’s critical gaze to smile at her mother, Aunt Prudence, and Diggory in his Sunday best where they occupied the front seats.

  Hebe raised her chin. Lewis, elegant in gray stood beside the vicar and smiled at her. She reached his side. Was that admiration in his brown eyes? She hoped it was, but she thought she saw compassion too. She didn’t want to be pitied. The suspicion returned that he had acted impulsively and with noble intentions. She stood stiffly beside him as Viscount Burns stepped away.