The Fallen Woman (A Regency Romance)

by K. L. O'Keefe

  Tristan chose to remain silent on the matter.

  “You don’t think I could have real feelings for a woman who isn’t the epitome of beauty? Is that what you’re thinking?”

  “I wasn’t thinking anything of the sort.”

  “Well…” Andrew got up and started pacing the room, his thoughts at a standstill. “To be honest, I… I have no idea why I’m so interested in her. Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s the challenge that tempts me. I’ve never met a woman so openly disinterested in me.”

  “The fact that she overheard you saying her appearance is ghastly doesn’t help matters, I’m sure. Perhaps that adds to the challenge?”

  Andrew sighed. “I’m afraid you’re right, Tristan. Everything you’ve said is true, isn’t it? I’m an awful man, and I’m wooing her to sate my ego. I can’t let a woman reject me.”

  Tristan shrugged.

  “Well, be that as it may, there’s something about her that just… I… I don’t know.” Andrew looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “When I’m next to her, I feel like I have no right to call myself a gentleman. She makes me want to be a better man.”

  “Impressive,” Tristan said with a chuckle.

  “I’ll just have to try harder,” Andrew said. “And so will you.”

  Tristan sat up in his chair. “Me? What do you mean?”

  “Well… Leona’s been in her room all morning, and I think I heard her crying,” Andrew explained. He started inching toward the door, in case Tristan felt compelled to throw something at him for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. “I have no idea what’s going on between the two of you, but it sounds like you could be doing better.”

  “Leona was crying?”

  “I believe so,” Andrew said with a nod. “And quite profusely at that.”

  “Then I’m an awful man too,” Tristan said, moving past Andrew to get to the door.

  Andrew, surprised by Tristan’s dash for the door, followed the viscount out of the library. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you move so quickly. Are you sure the doctors are right about you?”

  “You don’t understand, Andrew.” With a slight grin on his lips, Tristan turned to look at his friend. “A man on a mission mustn’t tarry.”

  Chapter Twenty Three

  When he knocked on the door to Leona’s bedchamber, it was Mary who answered.

  “Um… good morning, my lord.” Her eyes flickered over to Andrew, who was standing beside the viscount. “Or… is good afternoon more appropriate?”

  “Either one is fine, Mary.” He tried to peer over Mary’s shoulder for any sign of Leona, but he didn’t see her. “I’m here to have a word with my wife. Is she present?”

  “Um… no. I mean… yes. She’s in here, but… I don’t know if she wants any guests at the moment. I…”

  “It’s alright, Mary.” Somewhere in the room, Leona spoke up. “I’ll talk to him.”

  “Oh… right… I, um…” Mary hovered in the doorway, reluctant to leave her mistress in such a troubled state.

  “You can go, Mary,” Leona spoke. “Thank you for tolerating me.”

  Tristan turned to Andrew. “I’m banishing you as well,” he told his friend. “And don’t even think of eavesdropping.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Mary,” Tristan addressed the maid, “make sure Andrew doesn’t put his ear to the door when I’m gone. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  With a nod, Mary exited Leona’s bedroom and joined Andrew in the hallway. “Come on, Mr. Lamb,” she said. “We shouldn’t hover by the door.”

  “I thought you liked to eavesdrop?”

  Mary clenched her teeth in frustration. She knew exactly what he was referring to, and she thought he was heartless for mentioning it. She should have known a man as handsome as Andrew would be completely devoid of any redeeming traits. “Intentional and unintentional eavesdropping are very different things, Mr. Lamb.”

  When Mary started down the hall, Andrew trailed after her. “You’re still lording it over me? I thought you’d forgiven me for what I said.”

  “I have forgiven you. I wouldn’t have mentioned it if you hadn’t brought it up.”

  “If you’ve really forgiven me, would you still be running away from me every time I approach you? It’s hard to keep up with you, you know? For such a small woman, you move very quickly.”

  Mary shot a furious look over her shoulder. “Seeing as you enjoy following me around, I thought I could use myself as bait to lure you away from Lady Randall’s door.”

  “Ooh. Touché,” Andrew said, clicking his tongue. “A woman with such crafty comebacks is a woman after my own heart.”

  “I’m not after your heart.”

  “What if I’m after yours?”

  “Mr. Lamb…” Mary sighed. “I really wish you wouldn’t play these games with me.”

  “Games? What games?”

  “The incessant flirtations… the lovesick falsehoods. I know you can’t mean what you say.”

  “Why do you think I can’t mean what I say?”

  “Because I’m a maid, and I’m ghastly, and you’re obviously a rake. You have a way with words, and I’m sure many women have fallen for them. You’re only trying them on me because there isn’t anyone else to flirt with!”

  “There are plenty of women in London, but I came all the way back to be with you. Remember?”

  When they were several corridors away from Leona and Tristan, Mary stopped. With a hand on her hip, she turned to face Andrew. “You really expect me to believe that?”

  Andrew closed the distance between them. He stood directly in front of her, towering over her, and bent his head closer to hers. “I don’t care what you believe. I already know what I feel in my heart.”

  “Your heart?” Mary rolled her eyes. She didn't care that he was the viscount's guest. Andrew made such a nuisance of himself, speaking her mind was long overdue. “Mr. Lamb, we can’t keep doing this. Every time I see you, it… it really unsettles me.”

  “Good.”

  “You think it’s good that I'm unsettled?”

  “It's an early sign of infatuation. Does your heart flutter when you see me? Does your face start to get warm? I bet it does… your cheeks are awfully rosy at the moment.” He leaned even closer. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not?” Andrew captured the back of her neck in his hand and brought his mouth down on hers. Her mouth was soft and warm, but he didn’t have much time to enjoy the sensation, because she turned her head away from his kiss.

  “I can think of a million reasons why not,” she answered softly. “Mr. Lamb, I--”

  “Please… I think we’re at a point where you can start calling me Andrew.”

  “Mr. Lamb,” she repeated, “I’m flattered by all the attention, but… you don’t have anything to prove! If you think chasing after me and planting kisses on me will make me feel better about what you said, it’s really not necessary. I get over things very quickly.”

  Andrew growled. “I’m not trying to fix your hurt feelings. I’m kissing you because I want to kiss you. What can I do to show you how genuine I am?”

  Mary turned away from him. “Please excuse me. I was spending so much time with her ladyship, I almost forgot about all the chores I need to get done.”

  “I can help you!”

  “Thank you, but… I’m sure your presence would only be a distraction.” With that, Mary bobbed a curtsy and hurried away from him as quickly as her legs could carry her.

  Andrew grinned as he watched her go. He couldn’t remember the last time he enjoyed something—or someone—so much.

  * * *

  When he walked into the room, Leona was lying in her bed with her blankets up to her chin. So consumed with shame, she could hardly stand to look at him. “Hello…” she greeted him softly.

  “Hello,” he returned her greeting with a smile and took a few steps into the ro
om. “Do you mind if I sit?”

  “No. Of course not. Go ahead, my lord.”

  “My lord?” he repeated. “You were calling me Tristan the other day. Have we really regressed that much?” He grabbed a chair from the wall and pulled it closer to her bed so he could sit beside her.

  “I… I don’t know. You must hate me.”

  “Why is that little head of yours so intent on making me a hateful man? Not every man is like your father, you know.”

  “But… I know you could never think fondly of me, after what I did… or rather, what I didn’t do,” Leona said with a sigh. “I should have told you everything from the start. I’m so sorry, Tristan.”

  Tristan tugged on her blankets, pulling them down to reveal her shoulders. “Ah, good. You still have a body! I was starting to think you were just a decapitated head under there.”

  “You don’t have to sound so cheerful. I know I’m in for a scolding…”

  “A scolding? Why?”

  “For… well… you know what for.”

  “I would assume you’ve already been scolded by your father,” Tristan said. “I’ve no reason or need to scold you, nor is it my place to do so. On the contrary, now that I’ve had some time to think… I realize how terrifying this must be for you. You find out you’re with child, and your father forces you to marry some strange man against your will. To make matters worse, your husband just found out the secret you’ve been trying to keep. I think I understand what you’ve been going through, and I sympathize with your situation.”

  “You… do?” Unshed tears were searing Leona’s eyes. She thought Tristan would send her away. At the very least, she thought he would want to have nothing to do with her. The last thing she expected was to have him sympathize with her.

  “You should have told me from the start…” Tristan began, “if only to relieve some of your burden. I would have gladly bore it with you.”

  “Oh…”

  “Uh… that’s not to say your, um, situation is a burden,” Tristan added. “But after seeing how much distress this entire ordeal has caused you, I can see it’s been a burden on you.”

  “I-it has…” Leona quietly agreed. “I was so worried about what kind of person you’d be, or what you might think if you knew the truth about me. You’re such a wonderful man, Tristan. You really are the kindest, gentlest man I’ve ever known. Forcing me to marry you was the best thing my father ever did for me.”

  Tristan reached out to stroke her head a few times. “I’m glad you think so, dear. Please… don’t be so upset anymore. You don’t have to worry about anything. I’ll take care of you.”

  Leona wiped her eyes. She couldn’t stop the tears any longer. “I… I feel like all I do is cry.”

  “No more crying,” he playfully threatened her. “I’m serious! You have nothing else to cry about. Everything’s fine.”

  Leona sniffled and nodded.

  “Also.... I want you to know that I care about you very much. Everything that’s mine is yours, so I would assume the same principle would apply to me. As long as I'm alive, I will gladly act as a father to your child,” he said. “That is… if you think I’m up to the task?”

  Her laughter was choked by a sob. “I never expected to hear you say something like that.”

  “Then maybe you need to give me more credit!” He rose from his chair, but not before he leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. “Is there anything else you need? Or would like to discuss?”

  “I… don’t think so.”

  “No more secrets you’re keeping to yourself?”

  “No!”

  “Good.” If she’d revealed anything else, he didn’t think his poor heart could take it. After all, it wasn’t exactly in the best of shape.

  Tristan started to move toward the door, but Leona’s voice halted him. “Tristan?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you have to leave so soon? I always hate it when you leave the room.”

  “You might be the only person in the world who would enjoy my company so much,” he said with a chuckle. “Can I join you for dinner in an hour or so? Before I forget, I need to send a correspondence to an aunt of mine in Yorkshire. She has a lovely cottage not far from the Yorkshire Dales… you should see it. She’s invited us to an art exhibit in York, so if you’d be interested in going...”

  Leona sat up in bed. “Of course I’d be interested!”

  “Good,” Tristan smiled. “It’s about time I had the pleasure of introducing someone… besides Andrew, of course… to my beautiful wife.”

  Chapter Twenty Four

  When the viscount and his wife were finished with supper, the five servants at Randall Hall gathered for dinner, as they always did. Lorna, Nell, John, Dubois and Mary were all seated around a dingy, ovular table, enjoying a supper of leftover roast and fresh fruit. Their conversation was as inane as always.

  “Ugh… I hate these feet of mine!” Nell complained. “I’ve got to be on my feet all day, but they’re sore all the time. I hate getting old.”

  “You’re not even that old,” Dubois countered.

  “I am old. And my calluses are old. I think the calluses on the bottom of my feet could cut diamonds.”

  “Maybe you can cut a diamond fer us, Nell,” John said with a grin, looking over at his beloved Lorna. “I woulda liked to give me girl a ring.”

  “I didn’t say I had diamonds, I said I could cut them!”

  Mary probed her roast with a fork. She hadn’t listened to a word they were saying, and for some reason, she didn’t have much of an appetite. She had too much on her mind, from getting hounded by the supercilious Andrew Lamb, to lending an ear to her mistress’ troubles. Leona’s troubles were her troubles, since they were on her mind so much.

  “So, his lordship’s goin’ to Yorkshire, is he?” Lorna’s soft voice pierced the short-lived silence. “That’s what I heard.”

  Her fiancé nodded. “Yeah. In a couple’a days is what I heard. And the only one of us who gets to go is Mary.”

  “Oui. I would have thought he’d take me along with him as well, at zee very least.”

  “Or me! I’m his valet, after all!”

  “Well, maybe Nell can rest her feet while he’s gone. He won’t know if we’re working as hard as we normally would,” said Lorna.

  “Yeah, but… his lordship’s been so good to all o’ us, and wit him bein’ sick and all that, I almost feel like we should be doin’ our best at all times, wot?” John added.

  “Don’t worry about my feet, lass. I complain far too much for my own good.”

  There was a long moment of silence. When no one else was speaking, Mary finally looked up from her plate and contributed to the conversation. “If you’d like, Nell… when I get back, I can take over a few more of your duties and give you a rest. I really wouldn’t mind. I… what?” Everyone was looking over Mary’s head. “Is something wrong?”

  “Look behind you, lass…” Nell whispered.

  Mary peeked over her shoulder. Andrew Lamb was standing not three feet behind her with a wicked grin on his face. “M-Mister Lamb!”

  “Hello, Mary,” he jovially greeted her. “It’s nice to see you. And it’s nice of you to talk about taking some of Nell’s work upon yourself, but I’d rather not see you overdo it. You’re always busy when I see you. I think you have too much on your shoulders as it is.”

  Mary was tongue-tied. If he’d been a ghost, she might’ve been less surprised to see him. “I… um…”

  “He’s right, Mary. You do take too much upon yourself, dear,” Nell agreed, reaching over to pat the younger maid’s hand. “I’m alright. Really! I just happen to be a champion complainer. I can’t help meself.”

  Mary continued to stare at Andrew, stunned. She knew he enjoyed stalking her, but she didn’t expect him to turn up in the servants’ quarters. “I… uh… Mr. Lamb, was there something you wanted?”

  “To see you,” he answered with a smile. “And to have supper, if th
at’s alright with your friends.”

  Mary could feel a wave of heat ripple from the bottom of her neck to the top of her head. What was he thinking? “I… don’t know…”

  “Monsieur Lamb wants to eat with us?”

  “Sounds alright to me,” said John.

  “We’d be honored, sir,” Nell said, pointing at an empty chair.

  Andrew pulled out a chair next to Mary and helped himself to a slice of roast.

  “I thought you, ah… I thought you usually took your meals with Lord Randall,” said Mary.

  “I do. But he needs some time alone with Lady Randall every now and then. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “But I’m surprised that you would…” Mary’s voice trailed off.

  “I would… what?”

  “Never mind,” she said, turning her attention back to her plate. She wanted to say it was incredibly odd for a man of his station to eat with a handful of servants, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

  Everyone was silent for a long time, which was surprising, considering that fact that every person sitting around the table, excluding Mary, was usually prone to chattering on and on about anything under the sun. As soon as Mr. Lamb entered the room, there was an obvious change in everyone’s disposition.

  “This is good roast,” Andrew said, waving a piece of gravy-soaked meat on the end of his fork. “You know… for some reason, I think the food tastes better here than it does in that stuffy dining room. Maybe it has to do with the company.” He looked over at Mary with a grin, but the expression was wasted, because she was too busy staring at her plate. Andrew wanted to laugh. She would do anything to avoid eye contact with him, wouldn’t she? “Anyway… don’t end the conversation on my behalf. Go ahead and talk about whatever you were talking about before I came in. I don’t want to ruin the mood.”

  “What were we talking about?” asked Nell.

  To which John answered, “Yer feet.”

  “No, besides that… what were we discussing? Ah, yes. Yorkshire. We were discussing how Mary’s the only one of us that gets to go to Yorkshire.”