“So tomorrow,” Mr. Chambers reiterated for the benefit of all in the room, “Is merely a friendly lunch between the two of you?”
“Strictly,” she assured.
She looked kindly at her new friend. The color in Grace’s face returned. It appeared clear that she had a smitten heart when it came to Robert Holland. Mr. Chambers had apparently been aware of Grace’s sentiments regarding his cousin. She wondered if Robert had any idea of Grace’s affections. Jolene thought they would make a handsome couple, but matchmaking had never been her forte.
“Well, then, it seems as if you ladies have it all planned,” Geoffrey announced. “When shall we start the tour? Will the day after tomorrow suffice? How about ten o’clock in the morning?”
Grace looked over at Jolene waiting for affirmation. “If Robert has no objections and can attend, that sounds agreeable.” She thought for a moment and then with enthusiasm looked at Mr. Chambers. “May we visit the Tower of London first?”
“Ah, milady wishes to be locked up in the tower, does she?” His brow rose and roguish demeanor possessed him. “I shall rescue you as a damsel in distress.” In further jest, he stood and bowed at his waist making a grand gesture with one arm.
Jolene laughed at his antics. Grace shook her head and frowned.
“I shall not keep you any longer, Lady von Lamberg. I should be getting back,” he said. Geoffrey looked satisfied that he had accomplished what he came to do.
“I’ll see you out,” Grace offered.
She rose to her feet to keep her from Mr. Chambers’ side, no doubt. A minute later, she returned and pressed for more information about Lord Holland. “So Robert is taking you to lunch? How did that come about so soon?”
“We bumped into each other this morning over coffee at a neighborhood café,” she nonchalantly replied.
“Tell me, did he flirt with you and then you put him in his place? Is this how your agreement about the relationship came about?”
Poor Grace. Jolene reached over and touched her forearm. “Dearest, I get the distinct impression that you have an interest in him even though he is such a rascal as you say.” She patted her arm reassuringly. “After all, I do seem to remember the two of you danced often last evening.”
A second later, Grace brought both her hands to her face hiding in embarrassment. “Goodness, I can’t help myself,” she admitted. “I am hopelessly and irrationally attracted to him.”
“Irrationally...excellent choice of words. I totally understand your dilemma,” she chuckled.
“You don’t like him then?” She pulled her hands away and looked into Jolene’s eyes.
“I like him, but certainly not in the way you think. Let us just say we have some things in common. Nonetheless, we both agreed after spending time with each other, there could be no romantic attachment.”
“Thank God,” Grace sighed. “He seemed so jealous of Geoffrey last night that I was sure he would make a play for your affections.”
“I won’t deny that he did not try his best to do so,” she confessed. “I quickly put him in his place, and with civility he accepted my wishes.”
A frustrated puff of air left Grace’s lungs. “I wish he would make a pass at me, but it is obvious that I don’t exist in his realm of eligible women.”
“Perhaps, after spending more time with you while we tour the city, his interest will blossom.”
“I doubt that it will, but I will savor each moment that we can be together.”
An obvious reason popped into Jolene’s head. “It could be that he respects you, because of his friendly relationship with your brother.”
“I can assure you that it has nothing to do with it. I am not the type of empty-headed, silly girl he likes for companionship. Alastair tells me he likes them daft and loose, if you get my drift.”
Disconcerted over Robert’s reputation with women, Jolene scowled. Irritated, she rearranged her skirt as if she were thinking about rearranging his priorities. “Well, perhaps it is about time someone knocked some sense into his blond head. I would shudder to think that he is actually that shallow.”
Obviously, the blood that they shared through their mother had incited a sisterly reaction to his behavior. The concept of sibling rivalry and sparring with one another brought a mischievous smile to her face. Without thinking twice, she had apparently thrown her doubt to the wind with regard to Robert being her half brother. They had not even discussed the possibility in private and already she wished it to be true.
“Well, do me a favor then. Send him a note of invitation anyway just in case I forget to mention it during lunch.” Jolene wanted to give Grace the opportunity to write.
“Yes, I’ll do that straightaway.” Her countenance glowed with thankfulness.
“Grace, if you don’t mind, I’m going to retire to my room. I’m a bit tired.”
“Of course,” she said, rising to her feet, appearing surprised over the change in direction.
“We’ll talk later, I promise.”
After a slow ascension to her room, Jolene closed the door. She retrieved her hidden treasure and sat in a chair by the window. Flipping carefully through the tattered pages, she found the place where she had read the last entry. Another month had passed, along with another note of no pregnancy.
“My mistress cries each time she bleeds. When His Grace hears the news, he grows despondent and withdraws from her bed. I do not understand why God will not answer her prayers.”
For another hour, she read of Jacquelyn’s frustrations that she had expressed to Dorcas. There were scattered entries about how she loved to decorate the estate with the help of her mother-in-law. Jolene had not realized up until this point that the dowager duchess existed. It pleased her to know that Jacquelyn had support from another woman.
The pages became repetitious in style. Dorcas focused heavily upon her barren mistress, but after years passed a distinct concern rose in her writings. It appeared her respect for the duke waned.
“Today my mistress bled in her bath water. I had never witnessed such a sight in all of my years. She screamed for me like a mad woman. Her fists pounded the water until it splashed upon the walls and floors, tinted pink with the flow of her menstrual blood. I nearly wept as I pulled her from her bath and consoled her distraught state of mind.”
Jolene closed the diary and set it down. It had become too heartbreaking and depressing to read any further. With the growing knowledge of Jacquelyn’s sad plight, her heart held little respect for the woman who supposedly was her mother. Dorcas’ entries told a tale of a brokenhearted duchess, who suspected her husband’s infidelity. Why did Suzette become his mistress knowing it could destroy the heart of another woman? As a tangled web of deceit and betrayal unfolded, anger toward the duke and his current duchess grew.
Agitated over the diary, she wrapped it back in the towel and shoved it onto the shelf and out of sight. Tomorrow, when Robert visited, she would retrieve it with reservation.
Chapter 12
The Power of the Tongue
When Jolene woke in the morning, she only had one thing in mind—her luncheon with Robert. It would be a turning point for both of them. Of more importance, she wanted to know his opinion of the letter.
Feeling rather famished for breakfast, after having a less than hearty appetite for dinner, Jolene entered the dining room. The morning meal was an informal occasion. Each member of the family came to dine anywhere between seven and nine o’clock. Silver warmers overflowed with bacon, eggs, and various sausages, along with a section of grilled tomatoes and mushrooms. A plentiful stack of toast with butter and marmalade sat on the table.
Jolene filled her plate and sat down with Lady and Lord Whitefield. Grace and Alastair were either late or had already eaten. Lord Whitefield hid behind an open newspaper barely taking notice of her arrival.
“Lady von Lamberg, do you have anything planned for today?” Lady Whitefield asked while buttering another piece of toast.
“Actually, yes. I will be having lunch with Robert…I mean Lord Holland.”
Lord Whitefield lowered his paper and peered over the top. “Alone?”
“Yes, alone. I’ll be fine,” Jolene dismissed his concern. She needed time with Robert and determined to keep others away.
“Do you think that wise?” He gave her a fatherly look, which in Jolene’s opinion had overstepped his boundaries as a host.
“We have formed a friendship, Lord Whitefield, and nothing more. Robert and I have a common interest in horses and other sports.” Jolene was not one to lie, but she had stretched the truth to the breaking point. “I believe he has some questions about the Spanish Riding School in Vienna.” Maybe she should bring up the school as a subject, so what she spoke would not count as a fib.
“I see.” He lifted the newspaper in front of his face.
Glad that interrogation was over, Lady Whitefield interjected with a question.
“What time do you think you will be returning this afternoon?”
“Time?” Jolene thought for a moment. “Well, our lunch is at noon, so I presume no later than two or three o’clock—unless I decide to do some shopping.”
“Excellent,” she responded with a broad smile. “I do hope you will be here at three, because I have invited a few women over for afternoon tea. Grace will be joining us too.”
“Might I ask who?” Jolene braced herself.
“Lady Chambers and her sister-in-law, the duchess, will be joining us.”
Jolene clung to her fork tightly so it would not land in the middle of her soggy eggs. “Well, that sounds pleasant.” Not really, she thought to herself. Obviously, the diary had tainted her opinion regarding Robert’s mother. Still, if she could hold her tongue and reign in her emotions, the three o’clock tea might prove useful.
“Well, I’m happy that you will join us. I know that Lady Chambers is dying to ask you questions about Vienna.” She took a bite of her toast and chewed it slowly. After swallowing, she added another comment.
“She may also put in a good word for her son. Frankly, I think that is why she is coming to tea so that she can rave about his admirable qualities.”
Lord Whitefield lowered his paper and peeked over the top again. “Qualities?”
“Shush,” Lady Whitefield scolded him.
“And why is the duchess coming?” Jolene had to pry about her motives.
“Well, she and her husband are staying with the Chambers until June, along with their son Robert. As you know, they are related, so it’s a family gathering.”
A piece of bacon stuck to the back of Jolene’s throat over that revelation. Quickly she washed it down with a sip of tea. Meals at the Whitefields were turning into informative occasions.
“They don’t have their own townhome here in London?”
“They sold it,” a gruff voice bellowed from behind the paper. “They owned one in Paris as well, which went on the market only a year or two after they wed.”
“Why?” Jolene cringed over her own brash nosiness.
“George, let’s not gossip.” His wife scolded him firmly.
With a huff, he lowered the paper, folded it, and laid it on the corner of the table. “It’s not gossip, woman, it is fact.” He turned to Jolene and spouted off the reasons. “The Hollands are nearly bankrupt since His Grace returned...”
“George!” Lady Whitefield abruptly cut him off. “I told you no gossip,” she growled.
He narrowed his eyes and glared in return. Jolene cringed at the sparks flying between husband and wife. Slowly, his lordship rose to his feet and looked Jolene straight in the eye. It was obvious he wanted to tell her the sordid truth, but instead he played the gentleman and departed.
Jolene’s fork poked at the eggs in the midst of the tense atmosphere that hung in the room. She glanced over at Lady Whitefield, who was red as a beet. “Your husband does not seem too fond of the Chambers or the Hollands.”
“Your assumption is correct. There are things about their pasts that are not readily acceptable in London society. People gossip and keep grudges.” Lady Whitefield sipped her tea and thoughtfully continued. “Christian conduct is often lacking in the inner circles of the wealthy. As the Good Book says, ‘the tongue is an unruly evil with deadly poison.’ My husband has yet to learn that verse, I am afraid.”
“I think it is the same on the Continent, Lady Whitefield. Society is no different in Vienna.”
Jolene finished the remainder of her breakfast in quiet contemplation. Her activities for the day consisted of the Holland family, and it would undoubtedly be a challenge.
* * * *
Branson announced the arrival of Robert, and Jolene smiled in relief that he had kept his promise for lunch. She secured her hat on her upswept hairdo and buttoned the jacket of her tailored, beige walking suit. With her diary in one hand and purse in the other, she descended the stairs to see Robert waiting for her at the door. The moment their eyes met, her heart jumped. He believed, or at least she thought he did by the expression on his face.
“Lady von Lamberg, you look nice today,” he politely said.
She kept the pleasantries in front of the staff to a minimum. “Thank you, Lord Holland.” She smiled demurely as they exited the house. Robert had arrived in a hansom cab, and Jolene was a bit disappointed it was not a motorcar. Nevertheless, if it were true that the Hollands were in financial difficulty she understood.
After they climbed in and started down the street, Robert announced where they were going. “I thought I’d take you to a small, local pub,” he said. “I think it will provide us more privacy.” He nodded at the diary in Jolene’s hand. “I see you’ve brought the history book.”
“And I’m anxious to show it to you, Robert.”
Robert remained pensive for a few moments and then confessed. “There are so many questions I want to ask that I don’t know where to begin.”
Surprised to hear the nervousness in his voice, Jolene glanced at him. Frankly, she felt the same way.
After a short ride, they exited the cab and Robert escorted Jolene into a pub. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the dark surroundings. Rather than bustling with patrons, only a few people sat spread out at various tables. Robert chose one tucked away from the main aisle. They ordered their lunch and drinks, and then sat awkwardly staring at each other. Finally, Robert pulled the letter from his inside coat pocket and slid it across the table at Jolene.
“I read it.”
“And what did you think?” Jolene held her breath.
“From what I’ve been told, the events did occur in that fashion. What is your book about? May I see it again?”
Jolene handed it to him, and he eagerly took it from her hand. He flipped from page to page scrunching his brow.
“Yesterday, when you found me at the coffee shop, I had just returned from the address on the back of the letter.”
“Really? Did you confront the lady’s maid about the letter?” A tone of anger came from his voice.
“She’s dead.”
“Oh, that helps,” he said. His shoulders slumped.
“Her sister answered the door and gave me the diary. She read it and believed everything to be true.”
Robert shook his head. “I don’t have the patience to read all this scribbling from the pen of an emotional woman,” he complained. “How far have you read?”
“Enough to aggravate me,” she confessed.
“Why?”
“You must understand that your father’s first wife, Jacquelyn, was the only mother I’ve known. Dorcas goes into much detail about her heartaches with your father and her inability to bear him a child.”
Robert closed the diary as if he didn’t want to know what it said and shoved it back across the table.
“Your mother...” Jolene’s words trailed off fearing to speak ill of her in front of Robert.
“My mother was his mistress, and I was conceived a bastard.”
The
expression on his face grieved Jolene. She had not previously thought of his own feelings about his heritage and past. All the secrets revealed were peeling back layers of hurt and pain.
“I’ve known for some time,” he added with annoyance.
Jolene wanted to object to his identification as a bastard, when he had received full rights and title from his father.
Their order was delivered, and thankfully, their thoughts had been momentarily diverted to food and drink. They ate and chatted about everything else but lay aside the other.
“Geoffrey is taking me on a tour of the city, Robert. It has been suggested by the Whitefields, that for the sake of appearance, that you and Grace accompany the two of us.”
Robert smirked over her announcement and shook his head. “I suppose if you are my half sister, I am obligated to protect you from lecherous men.”
“Protect me from Geoffrey, you mean?”
“It’s true that I cannot damn his roguish character when I am no better myself,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “If it were any other woman, I would not care.” He leaned forward and looked seriously into her eyes. “Seeing that it involves you, I do care.”
Jolene brought her hand to her chest in a swooning gesture. “Oh, now you’re going to make me cry, brother.”
He raised his eyebrows over her antics. As their eyes met, they looked at each other as if they realized their connection. Robert finished his sandwich and set his plate aside.
“Now, it’s your turn,” he said with a warm smile. “What the hell happened to you when Jacquelyn kidnapped you?”
Jolene mulled over her answer. Frankly, Jacquelyn had played the ruse quite well. How could she separate the admiration for her from the criminality of it all?
“My mother...” Jolene stopped again and squeezed her eyes together because she could not let go of the association. She began again. “Jacquelyn fled to Austria. She met my stepfather within the first year of her arrival. They married soon after they met, but she died when I was three.”
The Price of Love Page 12
