His fingers still played over her dewy skin. Vivian’s nails penetrated his lawn shirt, holding fast to his shoulder as she too neared her release. She sucked in a sharp breath and held it a second before it burst from her on the most alluring sound. The cries of a woman in ecstasy made even more beautiful because it came from the woman he loved.
As their breathing slowed, he brushed the hair from her eyes and cradled her face between his palms. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind as he gazed into her silver-blue eyes.
How much she meant to him.
How blessed he was to have found her.
How grateful he was that she hadn’t turned away from him when she learned of his weakness.
But the words that formed on his tongue seemed trite. There were no words to express the depth of his feelings for Vivian, so he told her the only way he knew how.
He kissed her again.
10 September 1818
Dear Duchess of Foxhaven,
I had the good fortune of making His Grace’s acquaintance recently in Dunstable. Clearly, he is an honorable gentleman. Despite my close friendship with Lady Ashden, my conscience cannot allow me to hold my tongue when an upstanding member of the nobility is in danger of being duped. It gives me no pleasure to inform you, Madame, that your son’s betrothed is a lady of loose morals. I have personal knowledge of her involvement with a servant once under the employ of Lady Vivian Ashden’s cousin, Lady Brighthurst.
I would be happy to journey to Irvine Castle as a witness to the lady’s immoral behavior and bear testimony. His Grace should not be held to a promise given without sufficient knowledge of his intended’s reprehensible habits. I could set out for Northumberland immediately once your invitation arrives. I am certain we shall get on quite well once we have met.
Your humble servant,
Mrs. Virgil Honeywell
Twenty-three
Luke entered his mother’s chambers with a mixture of elation after his night with Vivian and worry for his mother. He hadn’t doubted Miss Truax’s account of Mother’s cause for insomnia, necessarily. He simply needed to see his mother for himself.
When Mother had found his father the morning after he had passed, it had shaken her badly. Father had slipped away sometime in the night after retiring to bed early with complaints of a stomachache. She had blamed herself for allowing him to sleep alone that evening, but there would have been nothing she could have done to save him. Likely she wouldn’t have known anything was amiss, for the doctor had said he’d gone peacefully in his sleep. This did not stop Mother’s haunted dreams from coming nightly for months.
On many occasions during their period of mourning, Luke had heard her crying and sacrificed sleep to sit with her until she had surrendered to slumber again. He truly hoped she was free from the horror and despair that had accompanied her dreams all those months as Johanna had claimed.
He found his mother at her desk, scribbling on a piece of foolscap. “Rearranging the seating for this evening, or are you making last-minute changes to the menu again?”
She grinned up at him and replaced her quill. “I’m afraid poor Mrs. Winchcombe would be beside herself if I altered dinner this late in the day. Where have you been hiding?”
“Not hiding. Richard and I have been reconciling the accounts and answering correspondence.” He moved behind her to place a kiss on her dark hair. A few silver strands grew at her temples, but her face remained remarkably unlined for a lady her age.
She gestured toward the settee. “Please join me. Would you like refreshment? I could ring for tea.”
“I should get back to my work soon. There’s still much to sift through and arrangements to be made in Town if Lady Vivian and I are to take up residence at Talliah House after the honeymoon.”
As he and his mother settled on the lavender sofa, she patted his hand. Her eyes shone with tears, her emotions still fragile under the surface. “Your father would be proud.”
He shrugged, uncomfortable with her assertion. Luke had yet to do much to make his father proud of him, but he wouldn’t turn his back on his duties again. “Perhaps you and my sisters would like to join us in Town come spring.”
They hadn’t spoken of his mother rejoining London society yet, but his sister, Gabby, should return next Season to continue husband hunting.
His mother nodded slowly and dabbed at her tears with a handkerchief. “Perhaps.”
That seemed the most he would receive from her at the moment, so he didn’t pursue the topic.
She shifted toward him and pursed her lips, a worry line appearing between her brows.
“What is troubling you, Mother? Did you ask Miss Truax to keep it secret that you had another of your dreams last night?”
She made a dismissive sound. “Nothing like that. I am beyond such things now. You have enough demands on your time that you shouldn’t spend it fretting over me. It’s just that I received an annoying letter in the post this morning from a lady I have never met. A Mrs. Honeywell from Dunstable. She claims to know Lady Vivian.”
The busybody from the church picnic? His jaw tightened. “And what does she want?”
“I assume what most ladies desire, an elevation in social status. I believe she is hoping for an invitation to the castle. She insinuated we would get on well together.” His mother stood and retreated to her desk to pull a letter from the neat stack at the edge. She waved it as she carried it back to the settee. “Lord knows why Mrs. Honeywell thinks threatening my future daughter-in-law will further her cause.”
“She threatened Vivian?” Luke snatched the letter when his mother held it out to him and scanned the contents. He felt sick to his stomach. The woman was insinuating Vivian had taken another man to her bed. Vivian hadn’t even known how to kiss properly their first time. He crumbled the letter into a ball. “It is a lie.”
“Of course it is. Your father was not a foolish man. He suspected something was amiss when Lady Vivian’s brother approached him about a union between our families.”
Luke recoiled. “Father had her investigated?”
“He did what any father would do, and it is a good thing he did. Otherwise, this Mrs. Honeywell might have convinced us Lady Vivian is not as she seems.”
“What did Father learn?”
His mother crossed her arms and fixed him with a challenging stare. “As Mrs. Honeywell suggested, Lady Vivian was discovered in the stables with a groom in a state of dishabille. Further inquires by your father’s hired man suggested Lady Vivian might have been judged unfairly. Her activities were perhaps a bit unorthodox, but certainly nothing immoral was uncovered. Your father confronted Ashden about the rumors, and he was satisfied her brother was telling the truth about her remaining an innocent.”
“I still can’t believe Father sent a man to uncover Vivian’s secrets.”
“Really, darling, why would you think poorly of your father for trying to protect his family’s honor? You always were too harsh with him.”
She was right, of course.
“I have many regrets when it comes to Father. If I could undo them, I would. I fear I haven’t done right by any of you. Not like he would have done.”
She held her hand out and he took it. “You were there for your sisters and me when we needed you most. I don’t know how I would have survived those first months without your comforting presence.”
“But I could have been tending to business, too. Instead, I shifted my burden onto Richard’s shoulders.”
She sighed. “I’m your mother, Luke. I could defend you forever, but it is true you could have done more. Is there anything to be gained from castigating yourself now? Leave the past where it belongs. It’s hard to see where you’re going if you are always looking back.” She squeezed his hand then released him. “I should let you return to your tasks.”
He stood and assisted her to her feet. Moving with delicate grace, she left the settee and returned to her writing desk to pick up her quill. A soft smile gra
ced her lips as she extracted another sheet of foolscap from the stack.
“After meeting Lady Vivian, I must agree with your father,” she said. “He knew the moment her brother provided a true representation of the lady’s nature that she would make the perfect wife for you.”
Luke’s heart skipped. Had his father really known him so well? It certainly appeared to be the case. And Luke had been a complete arse with his father. Nevertheless, his mother was correct. He needed to look ahead, and in the future he imagined for himself and Vivian, she would not be the victim of false rumors.
“About Mrs. Honeywell…” he said. “I have a mind to ride straight through to Dunstable and set her straight.”
His mother looked up from her writing. “I know how to deal with Mrs. Honeywell and her kind. Allow me to take care of the situation.”
The hard glint in her dark eyes told him Mrs. Honeywell would be handled well indeed.
He nodded once. “Mother, please don’t mention this to Vivian. I don’t want to embarrass her. When she is ready, she will tell me about the incident.”
“Agreed. I shan’t mention it to anyone.”
He kissed his mother’s cheek and left her to finish the correspondence while he went in search of Richard. His brother had offered to read some of the letters still scattered atop Luke’s desk, and Luke had set his pride aside and accepted. He descended the stairs with a secret smile as he recalled the cause of his disorderly study.
Vivian had graciously released him from his promise to take her riding today since he hadn’t accomplished near enough with her interruption last night. He had arranged for a groom to accompany her and enlisted Johanna to keep her company. He hoped this would keep both women out of trouble. Although Vivian and Johanna didn’t seem to get on as well as he had expected, they seemed amiable toward each other. Perhaps a friendship would grow over time.
Now more than ever, Vivian would require a strong ally in London if Mrs. Honeywell’s gossip had reached anyone else. Johanna would be a valuable friend to have. She had shown exceptional skill at taking others to task when needed. No one who crossed the lady escaped without receiving blistered ears.
Luke chuckled. Yes, Vivian would have no trouble with Johanna by her side.
***
Vivi, tired of waiting in the foyer for Miss Truax to make an appearance, swept out the double doors of the castle and headed toward the stables. It was vexing to learn Luke had requested the lady accompany her on a ride when she had hoped for a less critical companion. Miss Truax’s tardiness only added to her disgruntlement. To keep another person waiting twenty minutes with no word was beyond rude, although perhaps Miss Truax deemed her undeserving of common courtesy.
She tried to shake off her irritation as she stalked to the stables. It wouldn’t do to remain in a foul mood when she sat her mount unless she wished to risk her neck. Horses were sensitive creatures. Besides, she didn’t wish to spend her first day exploring the fields of Irvine Castle in a fit of pique.
When the stables came into view, she forgot about her irritation with Miss Truax. Never had Vivi seen anything as stunning. Irvine stables could easily house thirty horses. Her breath quickened as she passed into the darkened belly of the building and recognized the heady aroma of fresh hay and horseflesh.
She scanned the area, searching for the groom assigned to escort her.
“Is anyone here?” she called out.
Her inquiry was met with the soft snort of a horse and a swish of a tail from one of the closer stalls. She strolled down the aisle, craning her neck to peer inside each stall as she passed. The first two were empty, but the next held one of the finest horses in England. It was pure white and surely belonged to one of the ladies of the house.
The horse shook out its mane, preening for her benefit, no doubt, and pushed its nose against the opening in the stall gate. Vivi moved closer to stroke the horse’s nose.
“My, but you are a beauty. And just look at your lovely eyelashes. I’m positively jealous.”
A noise at the stable doors drew her attention. The figure of a man stood silhouetted in the entry.
“At last, someone arrives. I am Lady Vivian. Do you know if my mount has been readied?”
The man froze, poised as if to spin on his heel and dash away.
“Hold there.” She stepped forward, her hand raised in greeting. “You need only point me in the appropriate direction. Unless you are the groom assigned to accompany Miss Truax and me.”
He squared his shoulders and walked toward her. His deliberate footsteps struck the stable floors in an angry staccato.
Dear Heavens. Had she said something wrong? She began to back away until he moved into a shaft of light and his features were revealed.
“Owen?”
Her former groom’s glower could have reduced even the bravest of hearts to a quivering mess. Yet she knew Owen well. He was a harmless sort.
His golden brown eyes maintained their warmth, although his anger might account for the glow somewhat.
He had every right to be infuriated with her. She had caused him to lose his position and necessitated his move from Dunstable. After Mrs. Honeywell had spread the gossip around the village, no self-respecting family would hire him.
“My lady,” he said through clenched teeth.
“What are you doing at Irvine Castle? Are you employed by the duke?” It seemed too coincidental by half.
He stopped a foot in front of her. “Nay. I’ve a decent position with the dowager Countess of Stanwood, thanks to your cousin. Lady Brighthurst made certain I left with a letter of reference.”
“Oh?”
This was a much better outcome for his life than she had imagined. Why hadn’t Patrice told her Owen hadn’t been turned out without a reference?
She looked him up and down, unable to determine anything from his clothing. He dressed just as he had when he was a groom in her cousin’s stables. Even though he had crow’s feet and a weathered face now, she could still see the handsome youth he had been.
“What is your position?” she asked.
His frown deepened, and she realized she had been ogling him.
“Pardon me,” she mumbled and shifted her gaze to the ground.
“I’m an outrider.”
Her head popped up. “Truly? How marvelous. Do you often travel with the countess? I can’t imagine how exciting it must be to see the countryside from high on your perch.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Forgive me, my lady, but I should steer clear of you. Wouldn’t want you to cry foul again.”
“Cry foul?”
He tried to slip past her, but she halted him with a hand on his arm.
He recoiled.
“I never said a word, Owen. What is your meaning?”
“We can’t speak in the open if you refuse to let me go,” he whispered harshly.
Looking both directions and apparently determining all was clear, he grasped her elbow and pulled her into an empty stall. She almost laughed at his absurd solution. This was what had gotten them into trouble from the start.
His manner was too bold for a servant, but she had always considered him a friend. She could never take him to task for his presumptuous behavior. In truth, as a young girl she had thought they would marry and had told him as much. He had chucked her on the chin good-naturedly and said he would never marry a knobby-kneed twig like her. His comment had hurt her tender feelings, but later he had offered to help her climb the big oak tree she’d been pestering him about. She had forgiven him at once and renewed her determination to win his regard.
It wasn’t until two years later she had come to realize the truth. A lady of noble birth couldn’t marry a servant.
He closed the stall door behind them and whirled on her. “You told your brother I compromised you.”
“I did not! I told him nothing of the sort. He believed Mrs. Honeywell over me.”
Owen’s jaw hardened. “Do you swear it, Lady Vivian? Did you think w
e would be forced to marry if your brother thought—?”
“Heavens no! And I didn’t want to marry you anymore. I was just a girl when I said those things.” She covered her forehead with her palm and grimaced. All this time he’d thought she had lied about him? This was even worse than anything she had imagined. “How could you believe I would do anything so foolish?”
A corner of his mouth kicked up, providing a glimpse of the young man she had once known and admired. No doubt he was recalling several foolish things she had attempted in her younger years.
“Hold your tongue, Owen Randal.” She dropped her hand to her side. “So we are clear, life hasn’t been easy on me either.”
His brow arched slightly, but he said nothing.
“I speak the truth. Once Mrs. Honeywell told everyone in the village about what she had seen, I became an outcast. I no longer received invitations, and my dearest friends were forbidden from associating with me.”
She blinked away the tears blurring her vision. Why cry now? The moment had passed. Yet a vague worry gnawed at her. The past had a way of reappearing, and Owen was proof.
“I never meant to cause trouble for either of us,” she said. “Nevertheless, I did and I’m deeply sorry.”
His expression softened and he pulled a dingy handkerchief from his pocket then held it out to her.
She waved it away. “I am all right now. It has passed.”
He tucked it back in his pocket. “I shouldn’t have allowed you to stay in the stables when you should have been abed. I’m as much at fault, if not more.”
“I only blame myself.” Her reunion with Owen pulled her from the fantasy she had weaved together last night.
This was exactly the type of situation Miss Truax had reference when she had spoken of skeletons. What if news of her tarnished reputation came in the form of whispered speculation in the ballroom? Maybe it would come as a veiled comment over dinner. Did it really matter how Luke learned of her misstep? He had a right to know the type of woman he had pledged to marry. It wasn’t too late to rescind his offer.
Samantha Grace - [Beau Monde Bachelor 04] Page 20
