“Quite passionate about your novels?”
“Only ones I like,” Flora answered, pushing her plates away and ringing a bell for the help. When the butler and his lackeys arrived to clear their plates, Flora turned to the head of staff and said, “We’ll take dessert and chocolate now, if you please.”
“Anything else?” the butler questioned, peering at Andrew from under lowered brow.
“No, thank you,” she replied, smiling sweetly up at him. When they were gone, she faced Andrew again. “He’s always despised me.”
“Who, your butler?”
She nodded. “Very much so. I was quite the wild child and he always hated how I would set the chickens free in the kitchen and steal the tarts as soon as they left the oven.”
“What a brat.” He laughed.
“A noble brat, which is the most terrible kind.”
“It seems you’ve very much improved since then.”
“I would hope so,” she muttered as the butler returned with their treats. “Oh, goody, my favorite part of a meal.”
She felt Andrew watching her as she piled their plates high with raspberry tarts, shortbread, and poured large cups of sweet hot chocolate. Flora tried to ignore his gaze. It churned her stomach to sense him so close, although they had been closer before. He watched her as she moved, but not like she was a specimen, but a piece of fragile art.
“Are you cold?” Andrew asked her, studying her face with his warm brown eyes. “You’ve suddenly gone pale.”
“I’m fine, just a little tired,” she lied smoothly.
She sipped her hot chocolate, waiting for the creamy sweetness to calm and cheer her. But it tasted like dust in her mouth and she fought to swallow the bitter stuff. And it wasn’t that Andrew made her feel sick and unsettled. In fact, it was the opposite, and that frightened her greatly. He was gentle and sweet with noble ambitions and a jolly nature. And Flora was merely used goods.
Chapter Ten
Flora sat before the window, perking up as each carriage approached, then slumping back down when each passed the MacLeod town house. Conner and Charlotte were already several hours late in arriving, and she feared they had missed their train altogether. While she liked the freedom that came with no overbearing brother to vex her, she longed for his steady calm and Charlotte’s warm embrace. Her courses still hadn’t come and she was beginning to panic.
Thankfully, she had The Fog on the Lake to keep her company and her mind diverted. As soon as she saw it, she immediately opened the novel and hadn’t put it down since. By the time she had awakened briskly at nine, the book was already waiting for her in the parlor. A small note accompanied it:
Flora,
I hope you find this book as enthralling as I find you. I look forward to discussing it at length, at the ball.
Yours,
Andrew
She twirled the card between her fingers as she pored over the pages. The book was just as good as Andrew had promised, perhaps better. But the nagging thought of Charlotte and Conner never coming to London and leaving her to stew in her own ruination picked at her subconscious. She needed their amusing interactions to distract her and their strength to carry her through the tedious wait for her monthlies. Charlie was a well enough diversion, but he could only do so much. Besides, he was more likely to cause trouble than to soothe her.
When the familiar carriage stopped beside the walkway, she leaped from her seat and ran out the front door, knocking a poor footman to the side on her way. As soon as Conner left the carriage and held out his hand to help his wife, Flora threw her arms around his middle, breathing in the familiar woody, Scottish scent.
“Ach lass, ye scared the shite out o’ me!” he roared with a wide grin, squeezing his sister.
“And you, a fearsome warlord.” Charlotte giggled as she came to stand beside them, baby Alec in her arms.
“A year o’ no one but my wee wife to fight with has left me soft.” He sighed, patting his trim stomach.
Charlotte rolled her eyes and gave Flora a swift kiss before handing over her child into her sister-in-law’s arms. “I see you’re well?”
“Very,” Flora answered, brushing a finger over Alec’s chubby cheek. “But it’s been too quiet without you two bickering and this little one to screech whenever he feels the need.”
Alec yawned loudly in response and Flora gave him a peck on his little snub nose.
“Now ye’ve got the lad, he’s your responsibility now.”
Flora cooed down at her nephew. “Fine with me. He’s precious.”
“Aye, precious.” Conner yawned and stretched. “Ye will no’ think so in the wee hours o’ the morning.”
“Didn’t you bring a wet-nurse?” Flora asked, handing Alec back to Charlotte, who took the boy inside.
“No, Charlotte believes in true motherin’, as she did no’ have one o’ her own. How are ye, Flora?” He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “We’ve been worryin’ about ye.”
“I’m all right. Charlie’s been keeping me entertained.”
Conner grimaced, his jaw locking. “Lord, give me strength to no’ throttle the fool.”
“He’s been on his best behavior.” Flora turned and dashed up the stairs to evade the conversation and possible reprimand that was sure to follow. But before she entered the front door, she turned to look back at Conner and yelled, “Lovely to have you!”
***
Later, she found Charlotte lounging in the sitting room, Alec nowhere to be seen. “Where’s the baby?”
“I gave him to Mrs. Neely to put down for a nap. He was very vexed to be taken from home.”
The butler entered with a plate of sandwiches and tea.
“I’m so glad to be done traveling,” Charlotte added.
“I was worried you missed your train.”
She shook her head and took a bite of her food. “No, we actually saw Drum and Penelope just as we were on our way from the station.”
“They’re in London already?”
“Apparently so. I saw some footmen taking luggage into the Elmsly townhome.”
“What about that place Drum was going to buy?”
She shrugged, taking another sandwich. “Apparently Penelope wanted to stay with her parents whenever they visit, as they won’t see them any other time. Her parents are too old to travel far.” Charlotte lay back on the arm of the couch, but shot up suddenly and reached between the cushions. She pulled out a small silver flask. “What on earth…”
Stifling a burst of laughter, Flora plucked the flask from her grip. “The rascal Charlie.”
“Makes sense.” She settled back. “Have you only seen him during your stay?”
“No…not exactly.” Flora wasn’t sure if she wanted to tell her sister-in-law about her evenings with Andrew. But after a moment of thought, she decided to keep it a secret. For now.
“Flora, you need to get out,” Charlotte pressed gently. “It’s no good to sit and dwell.”
“I haven’t been. I’ve had teas and even went to the opera house.”
Charlotte smiled, her eyes closed. “I’m glad to hear it. But…is everything else…well?”
“What?”
She peeked at her through one eye. “Don’t make me say it.”
“Say what?”
“Your…monthly,” Charlotte hissed.
Flora felt her stomach drop. With the excitement of seeing her family again, she had briefly forgotten about the importance of her courses. Without the regular reminder from her womb, she could still possibly be with child—Jasper’s child. As she wracked her brain, she tried to remember the last time she had her monthly. It had never been important to her to track when it came. She clutched her middle, suddenly feeling very ill.
Charlotte sat up, her smooth brow uncharacteristically furrowed. “Don’t fret, it’ll be all right.”
She groaned and unscrewed the lip of the flask, taking a heavy swig of whisky. “I’m embarrassed to admit that I was so focused on forgetting ever
ything that transpired, that I forgot about everything.”
“As you should have. I’m sorry for prodding. It was none of my business.”
“No, I’m glad you’ve thought of it. I just don’t believe I could handle carrying Jasper’s child.” Flora felt hot tears of fear and humiliation begin their long journey over the slopes of her cheeks. “My heart would break.”
Charlotte sighed and left her place, coming to kneel beside Flora. “Flora, what I am about to say to you is something out of love and my caring for you as my sister. What I will tell you is only for your ears and only to give you options you might not have known you had.”
Flora wiped her face. “Options?”
She lowered her voice again. “There have been many, many women in high society who have found themselves…up the river, so to speak. Some go away for many months and return sadder and thick about the middle, always grieving, their children raised to never know their true parentage. Some bear the children and raise them as their own, always living in the shadow of their folly. Some give the baby to family, visiting often as an aunt or cousin. We could do that for you, if you wished it. Conner and I could take the child and give it the same life as Alec, with you to do as you pleased. I would never ask you to part with your child if that is not your wish.” Charlotte paused and lowered her gaze. “And there is a final option.”
“What is it?”
“I know of a woman…I’ve even sent some servants to her before, when they asked. She knows the brew that will keep the child from…she can relieve you of a pregnancy.”
Flora felt as if she would faint, the horror of Charlotte’s words chilling her to the bone. She would have never thought that her sister-in-law would suggest such a thing. “No.”
Charlotte grasped her hands tightly. “I meant nothing by it. You know I will help you in anything you choose to do in this world. All you need do is tell me how to help you and I will follow your instructions without question, nor judgment.”
Flora felt the tears begin to flow again, the dampness followed by wracking sobs that shook her shoulders and scraped her throat raw. Everything that Charlotte had told her was monstrous in it’s own way. She didn’t feel she could bear to give her baby away, no matter whom the father was. But she also knew she couldn’t raise it openly, as she could with one born in wedlock. The child would pay for her sins throughout its life by no fault of its own.
“Come,” Charlotte fussed, drying Flora’s cheek. “Let’s get you into bed with some tea and a book. Would you like that?”
Flora sniffed. “Can you just bring me Andrew’s book from the front room? I left it there when you arrived.
“Andrew? Andrew Philips?”
“He’s a friend and he loaned me a novel in a series we both enjoy.”
Charlotte pursed her lips, but her face was still almost unreadable. If she had any questions about the mysterious Andrew, she certainly wasn’t going to ask at that moment. And Flora appreciated her sturdy resilience, thanking her good fortune to have Charlotte in her life.
It felt rather nice to be fussed over. Charlotte helped her out of her day dress and into bed, tucking the covers over her and around her legs. She then poured a cup of tea for Flora and splashed the remaining contents of Charlie’s flask into the china for good measure. Lastly, she handed Flora The Fog on the Lake.
“Do you need anything else?” she asked as she twitched the bedroom curtains open just enough to let in some light for reading.
“No,” Flora replied. “Thank you.”
“Please, don’t think of it.” Charlotte went to leave, but then stopped at the door. “You know, Andrew has wonderful taste, and not just in books. You’re a perfect darling, Flora, and anyone who thinks otherwise is a damned fool. Including you.”
Flora stared at Charlotte until she left, and then kept her eyes on the closed door, her fingers soaking up the warmth of the teacup. She knew she meant well with her words, but they did little to calm her depression. Charlotte had wedded and bedded the love of her life and was now perfectly happy, as was Conner. Flora had done something wrong and lived to tell the tale.
She sipped her cooling tea and read her borrowed books. As she skimmed each line, a thought pricked the back of her subconscious. She imagined Andrew sitting before a fireplace, gripping the smooth leather spine of the novel, his slender finger keeping the pace. And when the tea was gone, the book read, and the last light of day gone from the window, Flora fell into a contented sleep, dreaming of a kind young man with a dimpled grin.
***
“Flora. Flora, get up,” a voice cooed into her ear.
Flora pulled her comforter over her head and buried her face into the pillow. “Too early,” she grumbled, trying to brush off the hand that was now shaking her shoulders. She felt the person sit by her side on the bed.
“Now, that’s no way to treat your dearest friend.”
She frowned. It sounded like something Charlie would say, but the voice was that of a woman. It could only be…“Penelope!” Flora threw off the blankets and flung her arms around Penelope’s slender neck.
“Goodness, I can’t breathe!” She laughed, holding Flora just as tightly.
“I’m so happy you’re here.” Flora heard her voice crack a bit as she spoke. “I’ve missed you so much and I want to hear everything about your trip! Oh, never leave again.”
Penelope pulled away. “Don’t fret. Drum can conduct his affairs from England or Scotland, so we can stay as long as we wish.”
Flora’s eyes flitted to the window, where bright light streamed in. “What time is it?”
“About noon. Charlotte said you were feeling poorly and wanted us to let you rest. But I couldn’t wait any longer. I suppose you’re exhausted from your evenings with Charlie, no doubt?”
“Yes, he and Andrew have kept me much entertained.”
One of Penelope’s fair brows lifted, as did the corner of her rosebud lips. “Well, there’s a juicy bit of gossip I hadn’t yet heard. I’m not sure how Charlie managed to keep it locked away when I saw him this morning.”
Flora felt heat rise from her chest and burn the tips of her ears. “There’s no gossip to be had.”
Penelope pouted. “Well, that’s not fair. You were privy to all my doings.”
“Not all of them.”
“Touché. Now, will you come down for luncheon? I know Drum will want to see you and I hope that I can pry a bit about your man from Charlotte if you won’t talk.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Of course,” she muttered in that even society voice she used with her mother, Cecily. Penelope then rose from the bed and went to the wardrobe, pulling out a pale yellow dressing gown. “Since you’re ill, I don’t have any qualms about you going down not fully dressed.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Flora replied, pulling on the robe and tying the silk ribbon tight around her waist. “Do I look a fright?” She hadn’t seen a mirror, but only assumed her face would be puffed and blotchy from the tears.
“Oh, Flora…” Penelope’s gaze dropped to the ground. “I believe you should go bathe before coming to the dining room.”
“What? Why?”
Penelope cleared her throat delicately and looked pointedly at the bed. Flora followed her gaze and saw something she had been praying to see for two weeks. Her courses had come. There would be no child.
***
“Finally, there’re the lasses!” Drummond bellowed as Flora and Penelope entered the dining room. He immediately crossed to them and pulled Flora into a tight embrace that lifted her feet from the ground. “So good to see ye. Are ye in good health?”
Flora smiled. “I feel so much better,” she told him in all honesty. It felt as if a great weight had been lifted off her chest.
Drummond set her back down and went to help his wife into her seat. Flora took hers beside Charlotte, who looked at her rather strangely.
“You seem in good spirits,” Charlotte pointed out a
s their food was brought in.
“Because I have a lot to be happy about.” Flora tucked a strand of still-damp hair behind her ear and leaned toward her, lowering her voice. “I awoke to my courses.”
Charlotte let out an audible sigh. “This is good news.”
“Very much so. It is as if I’ve gotten a second chance at life.”
“What are ye whisperin’ about over there?” Conner questioned from the other side of the table.
“Charlotte’s taking me shopping for a new gown,” Flora lied smoothly, straightening up.
“A new frock?” Conner grimaced. “Ye have closets full o’ dresses.”
“But not one of deep blue,” Charlotte pointed out as she stirred her steaming bowl of soup.
Conner made a Scottish sound in his throat. “Ye lie, wife. I know right well that the lass has several. I get the bills, ye ken?”
“But do you have any of sapphire blue?” Penelope asked, looking particularly thrilled to be speaking about shopping.
Flora thought about the few gowns she had brought to her when she fled to London. “No…I have a green, a pink, some blue…but not one of that particularly royal shade.”
“Perfect. I looked in on my father’s emporium and he has some lovely silks, thanks to Drum’s gift.” Penelope gazed up at her husband with such unmasked adoration, Flora felt like an interloper into their short moment.
“That settles it then,” Charlotte announced. “We’ll go find Flora a dress this afternoon. Perhaps for the New Year feast we’re having back at the castle?”
“Why this afternoon? Can’t it wait a bit?” Conner asked.
Flora turned up her nose. “Well, I need a new dress for Friday.”
“What’s Friday?” Penelope’s voice was innocent, but Flora knew she was waiting for a hint.
“Andrew is taking me to a ball his uncle is hosting.”
Conner opened his mouth as if to say something, then snapped it shut. Flora could tell he wanted to know more about Andrew, probably so he could spy on the poor man. Although she had no right to feel anything toward Andrew, she felt as if she should shield him from Conner. If her brother had been protective before, she knew he could double down on his resolve to keep her safe from harm by a man’s hands. And Flora wasn’t looking forward to seeing how his concern would manifest.
His Tarnished Ruby Page 10
