Born to Be Wilde: The Wildes of Lindow Castle

by Eloisa James

“You may,” Lady Gray said, as indifferently as if she had welcomed him into a sitting room rather than her bedchamber.

  “You remember my mother?” Lavinia asked him.

  “Good morning, Lady Gray,” Parth said, bowing over her mother’s hand.

  Lavinia nodded. “Now that you have ascertained that I have arrived at Gooseberry Manor safe and sound, Mr. Sterling, may I request that you return to Lindow and spend the day with your family, as I shall do with mine?”

  He did not answer her, but turned to her mother instead. “Lady Gray, may I request the honor of your daughter’s hand in marriage?”

  Lavinia’s heart felt naked. She felt like a childish fool. You don’t really like me. You will never forgive me for being . . . myself.

  “You may not,” her mother said without hesitation, startling Lavinia so much that she almost gaped. Lady Gray was smiling faintly, but her voice was firm.

  Parth turned to Lavinia, and the look in his eyes affected her so deeply that her heart skipped a beat. He was so good at looking as if he adored her. Maybe, in some queer way, he did adore her.

  It’s just that he felt she was . . . well, all those things he didn’t admire at the same time.

  “We wouldn’t be happy, Parth,” she said, her heart pounding. “Please, accept my refusal.”

  “I will not,” he said stubbornly. “I don’t care that you have no dowry. You never gave me a chance to say it, but I am proud that you earned commissions.”

  “My daughter does have a dowry,” her mother intervened. She dropped another pin over the side of the bed with a distinct pinging sound. “I shall be selling my country estate and deeding the proceeds to her; her dowry will be one of the largest in all the British Isles. Other than royalty,” she tacked on.

  Parth’s eyes didn’t shift. “Lavinia.”

  “You may not want the dowry, but you cared about how mine was spent,” Lavinia said quietly. “The scorn on your face—”

  Her mother interrupted. “The dowry was lost through my misfortune, and you, Mr. Sterling, are not welcome to air your opinion on the matter.”

  Lavinia’s heart was beating quickly. She had to head off this conversation or her mother would tell Parth the truth. She still didn’t want . . . she didn’t want him to know. “I choose not to marry you, and that is the end of it.”

  “That is not the end of it,” Parth said. He turned to Lady Gray. “I took your daughter’s virtue.”

  Silence.

  Parth had the scalp-tingling feeling he had only experienced in moments that would make or break a fortune.

  But this was his entire life.

  Lady Gray regarded him thoughtfully, her eyes resting on his hair, taking in the color of his skin, drifting down his face, down his coat, breeches, riding boots, wet from snow.

  “I am sorry to point out an obvious fact: My daughter must not have found you acceptable in the deed,” she said, in the haughty tones of an aristocrat born and bred. “I trust she will choose better the second time.”

  Lavinia made a choked sound, almost a laugh.

  “She is mine,” Parth said bluntly. “I will not give her up.”

  She was angry at him; he accepted that. He’d hurt her feelings. He could have killed himself for wounding her.

  “I love you, Lavinia,” he said hoarsely. “I love you.”

  Lavinia’s eyes were bright with tears, and one slipped down the curve of her cheekbone.

  “Please don’t cry, love.”

  “My daughter can do better than you,” Lady Gray said. “She deserves a better husband, and a better mother as well. When I became addicted to laudanum, I spent thousands of pounds on nothing.”

  Lavinia groaned.

  Parth dragged his eyes from Lavinia’s face. “You did?”

  “The dowry that my husband carefully laid out for Lavinia’s future marriage was squandered in a series of opium-induced wagers.”

  “Please don’t,” Lavinia whispered, her voice pained.

  “Once, when I had taken a great many drops, I gave an opera singer forty guineas for a kiss,” Lady Gray said, holding Parth’s gaze. “So if you have been blaming my daughter for rashly spending money, you were far from the truth of it.”

  “Oh, Mother,” Lavinia whispered.

  “What is more, I stole jewelry and money from young people under my care. My daughter, by her own diligence, has earned the money to pay back my thefts.”

  Parth made a hoarse sound.

  “I swore for years that I would stop taking drops, and I was unable to do so.” Lady Gray turned to her daughter. “Make no mistake, Lavinia, if the doors of Gooseberry Manor were not locked, I would walk down the front drive and buy what I need. No matter what I had to do to get it.”

  Parth was aching to take Lavinia in his arms and absorb the pain he saw in her eyes.

  “It’s all right,” Lavinia said, taking her mother’s hand.

  “I can’t get overly excited,” Lady Gray said, her voice trembling.

  Lavinia patted her hand. “I’ll ring for Mrs. Aline.” Without turning, she said, “Parth, please leave. Go back to Lindow, and close the door behind you.”

  Parth bowed to Lady Gray and walked down the stairs feeling dazed. He had lost Lavinia.

  He’d had her, and now he’d lost her. Desolation hit him like a tidal wave. He had hurt her. He had made her feel as if she was soiled. He felt as if that word plunged a knife into his heart to prove what a shallow, despicable man he was.

  In the entry, a liveried butler handed him his greatcoat.

  The matron of the house advanced toward him. “Lady Gray is still recovering,” she said, without preamble.

  “I understand that.”

  The chatelaine at her waist jingled like small bells. “If you wish to stay for dinner, Mr. Sterling, your presence might make a more pleasant day for Miss Gray. We welcome friends and family. We sometimes have large families pay a visit to a patient, at Christmas, for example. In time, Lady Gray may leave for short occasions.”

  “Do you mean to tell me that she has to remain here for the rest of her life?”

  “Laudanum addiction is not easy to overcome, Mr. Sterling. The cure can take years.”

  Parth nodded. “I’m happy to hear that you invite large families to visit, Mrs. Aline.”

  Half an hour later, Lavinia left her mother’s room, closed the door behind her, and leaned against it.

  Nothing in the world would make her happier than to be married to Parth. To have his conversation, and his embrace, the erotic delight in his eyes, and his rare smile.

  But she would be content without him. She would will herself to be content. By next Christmas, she’d be married. She would have a masquerade ball to go to, and it wouldn’t be in Cheshire.

  Lost in thought, she slowly descended the stairs, hoping to find Mrs. Aline. At the landing, she felt a draft and saw the front door was open. A light swirl of snow was covering the parquet floor, but there was no sign of the butler or the two footmen who had been there the night before.

  Shivering, she hurried down the steps in order to close it, but when she reached the opening she came to an abrupt halt, mouth open.

  A large bulbous traveling coach had drawn up in front of the house, with another behind it, and a third bowling up the drive. She recognized those carriages. She knew the insignia, the gilded embellishment, the coachmen.

  A liveried groom pulled open the door of the lead carriage and Wildes poured out. Lady Knowe, the duke, the duchess, Diana . . .

  More Wildes exploded from the second carriage, laughing and shouting. Lady Knowe trotted back toward the third carriage, and the duke took the duchess’s arm so they could walk to the manor.

  Lavinia didn’t move. Her eyes were fixed on Parth, who stood beside the first carriage, his face guarded, looking at her.

  Waiting for her to move. Waiting for her to do something, say something.

  Lavinia felt as if her heart had frozen. More than anything, she wa
nted to throw herself down the steps and into his arms. But—

  She couldn’t.

  She couldn’t do it again. Giving herself to Parth would confirm all her own worst fears about herself. It would be like embracing the pain of never being good enough.

  In that moment, she was certain of one thing: Her mother loved her, but not unconditionally. When she married someone, he had to love her more than she loved herself.

  It wasn’t too much to ask.

  With that thought, she looked away from Parth. The duke and duchess were almost at the door, so she dropped into a deep curtsy. “Your Graces. This is a wonderful surprise.”

  Before they could reply, Diana ran up the steps and wrapped her in an embrace. “I didn’t want you to be lonely on your birthday, so Aunt Knowe had the idea of paying you and Lady Gray a visit. Isn’t this fun, Lavinia? We’ve brought the cook and there’s a carriage following with a feast!”

  Parth was not behind this visit.

  Lavinia had foolishly thought this turn of events was his attempt at a grand gesture. Bringing the whole family to her as a way of saying, Please marry me. Please be a Wilde. You may not be born a Wilde, but you can be a Wilde, just as I am.

  But no.

  Lady Knowe bounded up the stairs and gave Mrs. Aline an embrace. “We’ve been friends since the time we were too young to know better!” she cried. Then she looked at Lavinia and laughed. “We look silly together, I suppose?”

  Indeed, Lady Knowe looked like a stork with her wings around a cabbage, though Lavinia would never say as much.

  A footman staggered past them, weighed down by a platter containing a roast goose. “We brought half the castle,” Lady Knowe explained to Mrs. Aline. “Far too many guests will arrive tomorrow for the wedding, and I decided that we will all be better for a day away.”

  Artie ran by. Diana’s nephew Godfrey was holding one end of the open belt on her pelisse and appeared to be steering her.

  “It’s wonderful to hear children laughing,” Mrs. Aline said. “The house is so quiet.”

  “We’ll leave you to your peace tonight,” Lady Knowe promised. “But first I plan to beat you soundly at Snapdragon. I’ve promised the children we’ll play games with them. And then we’ll have a feast to end all feasts.”

  A fourth carriage had drawn up, and servants were emerging carrying boxes, platters, and baskets of fruit.

  “We couldn’t do without music, so my butler found a few musicians who were at loose ends and brought them along as well.”

  “Guess who hasn’t thrown up in six hours?” Diana murmured in Lavinia’s ear.

  “You?” Lavinia hazarded.

  “I am the only one who’s made a daily habit of it,” Diana agreed. “Let’s go to your bedchamber before Elisa catches us. She’s in the last carriage with North, and I told him to delay her.”

  For a pregnant woman who appeared to have lost rather than gained weight, Diana had a great deal of energy; she ran straight up the stairs.

  “Why?” Lavinia gasped.

  “I need to know what your intentions are,” Diana said, following Lavinia into her bedchamber. “Oh, by the way, Lady Knowe says Gooseberry Manor used to be a house of ill repute. Isn’t that fascinating? I’m going to lie on your bed, if you don’t mind. I’m less prone to nausea if I’m flat on my back. Now, tell me what your intentions are for Parth. He is madly unhappy and I overheard him tell Aunt Knowe last night that he’d ruined everything.”

  “He didn’t ruin everything,” Lavinia said. “We’re simply not meant to be together.”

  “Don’t tell me you believe in fate, because I don’t.”

  “I can’t be with him,” Lavinia said, ignoring that. “I just can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s embarrassing.”

  “You think it wasn’t embarrassing to face North when he came back from war and found out I had told everyone he had a son—when he knew perfectly well that he’d never done more than kiss me?”

  “Your humiliation doesn’t make mine any the less,” Lavinia pointed out.

  “Is Parth terrible in bed? He doesn’t look as if he would be, but I did hear that—”

  “No!” And then, because her cousin would not give up, Lavinia said, “He told North that I was as shallow as a puddle, if you must know.”

  Diana frowned. “That’s horrid. Obviously he changed his mind.”

  “I don’t like ‘horrid,’” Lavinia said. “It sounds like something children say to each other. He meant it. Though there are other parts of me that he likes, obviously.”

  “I don’t know a man in the kingdom who doesn’t like those ‘other parts’ of you, Lavinia.”

  “Yes, well, I don’t really care. My mother is selling the country house and I shall have a dowry again,” Lavinia said dully. “I doubt I’ll have trouble finding a husband. I’ll take Prince Oskar.”

  “But you want Parth.”

  “He grew angry two days ago and suddenly, we were back where we started: I am shallow, and the only thing I care about is bonnets. The important thing is that he’s not wrong, Diana. I do love bonnets. I just . . . I just can’t be scorned for it by the man I’m marrying. I can’t.”

  “Come here,” Diana said firmly.

  Lavinia plucked out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “No, thank you.”

  “Lavinia Rose Gray, come here now.”

  “It sounds as if you’re taking lessons from Lady Knowe,” Lavinia said. But she went over and sat on the bed.

  “You told me when you first came back from France that you had fallen in love with a bad-tempered man. It was Parth, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Lavinia said. “My feelings aren’t the issue, Diana. I don’t think he’s truly bad-tempered. It’s his opinion of me that I can’t abide.”

  Her cousin was silent for a moment, and then her hand tightened on Lavinia’s. “You deserve better than that.”

  Lavinia gave her a wobbly smile.

  “You are brilliant and creative. In fact, other than Parth himself, you’re probably the most exacting and brilliant person whom I’ve ever met,” Diana said.

  “Don’t be absurd.”

  “I’m not. Plenty of people think badly of Parth because he’s soiled his hands with trade. How is your work with clothing any different?”

  Lavinia shrugged.

  At that moment, Betsy poked her head in the door, saw they were both decent, and invited herself in. “Come along, you two! We’re about to play charades. Aunt Knowe is writing out the parts.”

  Lavinia considered saying “Please, no,” but instead she powdered her nose.

  Betsy snatched up the puff by its wooden handle, thrust it toward the ceiling, and cried, “Is this a dagger that I see before me?”

  “You could try stabbing yourself and see what happens,” came a wry voice from the door.

  Lavinia looked sideways, under her lashes. Two gentlemen stood in the open doorway: Lord Jeremy and Parth.

  “I’ve heard all the Shakespeare I want to in this life,” Lord Jeremy drawled. “Stab me if you intend to spout any more of it.”

  Betsy threw the puff at him and it hit his wig, causing a tiny explosion of powder. “You need this more than any of us. Did you even powder that wig?”

  “No,” Lord Jeremy said flatly.

  Under cover of the ensuing clatter, Parth went to Lavinia. “May I talk to you?”

  “I think not,” she said brightly. “I can see no reason for that.”

  From below, Lady Knowe shouted up the stairs. “Time for charades! Hip hop, skip skop, hockey pockey!”

  “Is it just me or does that woman make no sense?” Lord Jeremy asked Parth.

  “It’s generally understood that Aunt Knowe is the most sensible of us,” Parth said.

  “Shall we bring Lady Gray downstairs for charades?” Diana asked, sitting up. “At the very least, I would like to say hello.”

  “My mother mentioned that she’d like to be quiet today,�
�� Lavinia said.

  “Alas,” Diana said, “the house is anything but quiet at the moment.”

  “I sympathize with Lady Gray,” Lord Jeremy said. “I’m going outside because I would rather freeze than play charades.”

  A moment later Lavinia and Diana knocked on Lady Gray’s door, but there was no answer. They waited a few minutes while Diana told Lavinia all about the clever things that Godfrey and Artie had said in the last twenty-four hours, but even after Lavinia knocked again, there was no sound from the bedchamber.

  Finally she pushed open the door of Lady Gray’s bedchamber.

  Her mother wasn’t there.

  And the nightdress she had been wearing lay on the floor, atop a scattering of hair pins.

  Chapter Thirty

  The front door was standing open when Lavinia ran down the stairs. Footmen were still unloading bundles from the carriages, and in the interim, still another carriage had pulled up behind the first arrivals. Mrs. Aline was nowhere in view.

  Lavinia ran to the conservatory but returned immediately as it was empty. She grabbed the arm of Mrs. Aline’s butler. “My mother!” she gasped. “She’s not in her room! Has she left?”

  “Certainly not,” he said, freeing his arm from her grasp and brushing his woolen coat. “My men and I have been guarding the door ever since His Grace and his family arrived.” The way his voice dropped told its own story.

  Lavinia would bet her nonexistent dowry that Mrs. Aline’s butler had a sizable collection of Wilde prints in his pantry. Or hidden under his bed. In the present circumstances, he wouldn’t have noticed if Lady Gray had walked straight out under his nose.

  Not when his house was full of the infamous Wildes.

  Lavinia ran outside into the chilly air, looking around for Parth. A dark head jerked up, as if he knew instinctively that she needed him. The instant he caught the expression on her face, Parth began running toward her.

  “My mother,” Lavinia cried. “She’s not in her room, and I can’t find her anywhere in the house!”

  Parth nodded, wheeled about, and strode first to the men clustered by one carriage, then to the next. At the third, a servant pointed . . .

  In the direction of the road.