Tears gathered in Henrietta’s eyes. Sickness roiled in her belly. She’d not nabbed a wink of sleep, so troubled by last night’s stormy row. The fury in Sebastian’s eyes haunted her still. The hurt, too.
She had to set things right. She had to make Ravenswood understand she was not just another fawning young miss, looking for a brilliant match. She loved him, the blackguard! So much so, her heart ached at the thought of losing him.
“Good morning, Miss Ashby,” said the courtesan. It was a drab morning, so like the gloominess in Henrietta’s heart. She looked up to say so, when she noticed the decor in the boudoir, all scarlet red in hue. Drapery…rugs…silk wallpapered walls. All red. And then there was the bed. A bright red satin bedspread with flowing chiffon curtains framing the four walnut posters. It was a big bed. And a small Madam Jacqueline was cozy under the covers, sitting up and reading a newspaper.
“I’m sorry,” said Henrietta. “I didn’t think you were still in bed. The footman assured me I could come right up to speak with you.”
Madam folded the newspaper in her lap and put it aside. “You are welcome, Miss Ashby. Now tell me, what seems to be the trouble?”
Henrietta groaned, “Where to start?”
Madam Jacqueline patted the bed. “Come and sit by me.”
Henrietta obeyed. She sat down at the foot of the bed, facing the courtesan.
Madam was draped in an elegant white night rail with rich embroidery. Her hair was hidden beneath a regal white turban, a brilliant diamond wedged snug in the center. The pale apparel only highlighted her eerie mist green eyes, which captivated Henrietta the moment she settled next to the woman.
“What’s happened, Miss Ashby?”
“It’s Sebastian,” she sobbed. “He hates me.”
It was a crushing blow to the breast, to say the words aloud.
Madam Jacqueline eyed her shrewdly. “Why do you think he hates you?”
Henrietta took in a shaky breath before she recited the entire wretched tale.
“If only he’d never found the naughty book of pictures,” she said in closure, wiping the tears from her eyes.
The courtesan tsked. “I warned you not to be too zealous, Miss Ashby.”
“I know,” she said quietly. Ardent emotions frightened a man into retreat. So to find such a book in her room, to hear such a scandalous confession from her lips, that she had tried to seduce him, must have bowled Sebastian over. “How do I set things right, Madam Jacqueline?”
“Tell me, did Sebastian suspect you were seducing him before he found the book?”
“No, he looked so surprised when I told him.”
“Then he is also very angry.”
“Livid,” said Henrietta, last night’s row popping back into her head. She shivered at the morbid memory, so cold. Sebastian had never treated her so icily in all their years together. It was a terrible feeling, being cast aside like that. “I tried to apologize. I tried to make him see I wasn’t out to snag his title, his fortune.”
“But he doesn’t believe you?”
“No.” Henrietta bowed her head. “He thinks I’m just another scheming flirt out to trap him into matrimony.”
“I’m afraid he’s going to stay angry with you for a very long time, Miss Ashby. He feels duped—by a woman. Most men find that humiliating.”
Not the comforting words Henrietta was hoping to hear. “So I’ve lost him?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Then there’s hope?”
“You’re going to have to apologize again.”
“Oh, I’ll say anything!” cried Henrietta. “Just tell me the right words to say.”
The courtesan shook her head. “You can’t tell him in person. He will slam the door in your face, I’m afraid.”
Henrietta slumped her shoulders forward. “So how will I tell him?”
“In a letter.” Madam Jacqueline pointed to the desk. “Go to the vanity and collect a sheet of paper and quill.”
Henrietta scrambled off the bed and hurried over to the cherrywood furniture. She plopped down on the quilted stool, snatched a quill from the inkwell, and readied her hand.
“You must feel guilty,” said Madam Jacqueline.
“Oh, I do,” Henrietta vowed.
The courtesan waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “It does not matter if you really feel guilty, Miss Ashby. You just have to sound like you do. You must also sound remorseful.”
Henrietta nodded sagely.
“And you must inspire Sebastian to want to return to you; remind him of the night the two of you shared.”
Yes, that’s exactly what Henrietta wanted to do!
“Now I want you to write down every word I say,” said Madam Jacqueline. “You will then deliver the letter to Sebastian and let him come to you when the time is right.”
Henrietta hurried through the house, looking for Sebastian. The letter clutched tight in her hand, a snippet of hope bloomed in her breast at the thought that all was not lost after all.
At the end of the passageway was a set of steps—at the top of the landing was Peter.
Henrietta darted up the stairs, while Peter bounded down to her. The two met in the middle.
“Henry, I’ve been looking for you.”
“I can’t talk now, Peter.” She brushed him aside. “I must find Ravenswood.”
He gripped her arm, preventing her flight. “Henry, he’s gone.”
Her heart shuddered. “Gone where?”
“Back to London, I think. He left this morning in great haste.”
She groaned, “Oh no.”
“What happened, Henry?”
There was no sense in keeping the secret from Peter. He was her ally, after all. She might as well confess the horrible happening to him.
“I made a terrible blunder last night,” she said.
He offered her a handkerchief, his voice gentle. “What blunder?”
She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with the napkin. “I tried to seduce him, Peter, but I failed.”
He balked. “My dear, that was a rather bold move.”
She sniffed again. “But I’ve been practicing for months.”
This time he really looked ashen. “Good heavens, Henry, how?”
The story about Madam Jacqueline poured forth: about Henrietta’s transformation from fumbling novice to skilled seductress—well, perhaps not that skilled.
“Really?” Peter furrowed his brow. “But I never noticed a change in you.”
“That’s because I wanted to charm Sebastian, not you. You weren’t supposed to notice anything different about me.”
Peter took in a deep breath. “Well, we must find a way to right this matter.”
Henrietta had already found such a way: the letter. But now she had to find Sebastian so she could deliver it to him.
With newfound determination, Henrietta gripped her skirts and mounted the steps again. There was a heart to mend. No sense whimpering when there was work to be done.
Peter fell in step behind her. “Where are you going, Henry?”
“To London.”
“Oh no.” He followed her back to her room. “It’s too dangerous.”
But Henrietta dismissed his concern and set about gathering her things: a few toiletries to accommodate her on the short journey to London. She wasn’t going to stay in Town for very long. She was going to deliver the letter, and then head back to the country. She wasn’t even going to meet with Sebastian. That was a definite faux pas, according to Madam Jacqueline. Henrietta was to slip the letter under Sebastian’s door or deliver it to him via a third party. And then wait. Wait for Sebastian to read the letter. Wait for his temper to cool. Wait for him to come to her. That was the plan.
“I’ll take my maid with me,” she said to reassure her alarmed brother-in-law.
“Your maid will not protect you from highwaymen, Henry.”
Henrietta dropped a small trunk on the bed, and then dumped the toiletries inside. �
�Fine. I’ll take you with me to London instead.”
“No, Henry, I’ll go to London,” he said in a firm voice. “Alone. You stay here where it’s safe.”
She paused to glare at him. “I thought you wanted me to be with your brother?”
“I do.”
“Then why are you trying to keep us apart?”
“I’m not, Henry.” He moved to the other side of the bed. “It’s dangerous on the road. It’s better if I go and talk with Seb.”
Henrietta mulled that over. Perhaps she should ask Peter to deliver the letter instead? After all, Sebastian was very angry with her. It might be better if she steered clear of the city altogether.
But what if Peter lost the letter on the road? Or what if he forgot to give it to Sebastian once he reached London?
No, it was better if she delivered the letter. At least then she wouldn’t wonder about the missive, and if Sebastian ever got it.
Henrietta shook her head. “I have to go to London, Peter. I have to set things right.”
“But you’ll never find him once you reach London.”
“Rot.” She stuffed a fur-trimmed hat into the trunk. “I know where he lives.”
“He won’t be home, Henry. I’m sure of it.”
“Oh?” A pair of boots next. “And where will he be?”
Peter raked a hand through his sooty black hair. “There’s this place on the Thames near Marlow, an abbey.”
Henrietta cringed. “Oh no, Sebastian’s going to become a monk! I never thought my seducing him would upset him that much.” She tossed a dress into the trunk without a thought to the potential wrinkles. “I have to hurry!”
Peter lifted his hands. “No, Henry, he’s not going to become a monk.”
A fluttery sigh of relief. “Then what’s he doing at the abbey?”
“Seb sometimes visits the abbey. It’s…Oh, never mind. The point is, the friars are very strict. They will not permit a lady inside.”
Henrietta snorted. She would just slip inside then. She’d been doing that a lot of late, sneaking in and out of houses to visit Madam Jacqueline. An abbey would be no different. She could slip the letter under Sebastian’s cell door, then quickly skirt away. That would work just as well.
“Henry, stop.” Peter reach over the bed and took her by the wrist. “You cannot go after Sebastian. Let me deal with my brother.”
Henrietta was about to argue, but the stubborn gleam in Peter’s eye reminded her so much of Sebastian.
After a lengthy pause, she huffed, “Oh, all right.”
“Promise me, Henry, you will not chase after Sebastian.”
She crossed her fingers behind her back. “I promise.”
Chapter 15
H enrietta squished closer to her maid for warmth. She was on her way to the abbey to look for Ravenswood. It was dark out. And cold. There was a brick beneath her feet to keep her warm; she had stuck it in the kitchen fire before setting out on the jaunt. That had been hours ago. Wrapped in a bearskin blanket, she was also spared from the lashing wind, boxed inside the sleigh.
“Where are we going, Miss Ashby?”
Henrietta sighed. Her maid had an unfortunate tendency to fret too much. “I already told you, Jenny, to the outskirts of London.”
“Are we going to see that woman again?”
Jenny had always referred to Madam Jacqueline as “that woman.”
“No, Jenny, we’re not. We’re going to an abbey.”
The girl sniffed, her nose runny. “But why?”
Henrietta handed her a kerchief. “I have to deliver a letter.”
“To whom, Miss Ashby?” Jenny blew her nose in the kerchief.
“To someone important,” she said softly.
Henrietta peered out the window, daydreaming. Even though it was dark, it wasn’t very late. About half past four, she reckoned. Still, her family would be worried about her. She had left behind a missive to ease their troubled hearts, indicating she was off to visit a “friend,” but was it enough?
It would have to be. Henrietta had to deliver the letter she clutched in her hands. She couldn’t trust the post or Peter to be messenger. This was too important. She couldn’t risk another blunder. She had to do this one thing herself. And she had to do it right if she wanted Sebastian to forgive her.
Would he forgive her?
A bereft part of her was not so sure. She had never seen Sebastian so filled with fury. What if she couldn’t get his temper to cool? What if he was still furious with her even after he read the letter? What would she do then?
Pestering doubts! And Henrietta had the whole of the journey to suffer with them.
A few hours later, the sleigh slid to a stop.
Henrietta peeked outside the window.
It was a large abbey, Gothic in architecture, with spiked towers and hideous gargoyles. A row of trees framed the path leading to the abbey door, and a tall iron gate bordered the wooded property.
The abbey appeared to be deserted. There was no light flickering through the stained glass windows. But perhaps the friars had retired early to bed? She hoped so. It would make things much easier for her. She could sneak inside the abbey without disturbing anyone and deliver the letter.
“Wait here, Jenny.”
The maid grabbed her forearm. “Miss Ashby, no!”
Henrietta patted her hand in a reassuring gesture. “Don’t fret, Jenny. I won’t be gone long. I promise.”
“But—”
“Please, do as I say, Jenny.”
The girl sighed. “Yes, Miss Ashby.”
Henrietta bobbed her head. She gathered her gloves and stepped out of the sleigh.
The snow was crunchy beneath her boots. She slipped on her gloves and lifted her hood, even though the wind had died. There was still a light snowfall dusting the earth.
After she bid the driver to wait, Henrietta scooped up the sides of her skirts and trudged through the snow.
It was quiet outside, the night still. Only her footfalls filled the silence, each step disturbing the frosty snow beneath.
The gate was open. A boon, for she had not the dexterity to scale the sturdy iron fence.
Henrietta peeled back the door, the icy hinges creaking. She winced. In the eerie calm it echoed like a ghostly cry.
Quickly, though, she moved through the gate and followed the snowy path to the abbey door.
The looming trees hovered above her; their twisted branches sagged with snow, shielding the sky and the land from sight. It was like moving through a tunnel, she reflected, and she shivered at the chilling darkness.
She hastened her steps. Above the abbey door was a stone carving with the motif: Do as thou wilt.
Odd. Not the religious greeting she was expecting. But Henrietta had not come to contemplate dogma. She reached for the door latch and was surprised to find it unlocked. Another boon.
She opened the door and stepped inside the dark entranceway.
This is too easy, she thought, apprehensive. She’d expected more resistance. Peter had vowed the friars were strict; they did not permit women inside the abbey. So why was the door unbarred?
Perhaps the friars had never dreamed a woman would be so brash as to enter the holy dwelling in the first place, hence they did not lock the door? Or perhaps the friars just forgot to lock the entrance?
Oh well. She needn’t fret too much. She was inside the abbey. That was all that mattered.
Henrietta skirted inside the great hall. The distant hum of male voices snagged her attention. The cloistered monks must be having dinner. And Sebastian was with them, surely. Now how was she going to find his room?
She could always peek inside each of the cells, she supposed. If the friars were gathered for a feast, their rooms should be empty. Henrietta could just sneak from cell to cell, looking for Sebastian’s things. After all, the friars weren’t likely to have fine woolen breeches and gold-threaded waistcoats. It should be easy enough to spot Sebastian’s fine apparel among the pl
ain monk garb.
Henrietta moved about the hall, looking for doors or a passage that might lead to the friars’ private rooms, but it was too dim to see anything.
She squinted, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the blackness. And just as a corridor came into view, more voices murmured outside the abbey door.
Panicked, Henrietta blindly dashed into a corner—and collided with a stone statue.
A bit breathless, she gathered her scattered wits and ducked behind the carved edifice, just before the door burst open.
Light streamed into the murky abbey.
Lantern in hand, an inebriated gentleman stumbled inside. A dandy of the highest order. And on each arm was a…nun?
Long black habits draped the giggling girls.
Girls?
Giggling?
Henrietta pinched her brow. What the devil was going on?
Eager for a better look, Henrietta eased out of her hiding spot and rested her palm on the cold, sleek surface of the icon for support.
She quickly recoiled, though. And it took a great effort indeed to keep from shrieking.
To her horror it was the smooth expanse of a woman’s bare bottom!
Henrietta eyed the blasphemous image in the dwindling light. The woman was perched on her hands and knees, legs spread wide, posterior thrust in the air.
Henrietta pressed her gloved hand to her lips, aghast. She had seen this kind of image before, in her naughty book of pictures. But what was it doing in an abbey hall?
The trio of peculiar characters moved through the passageway, taking the sole source of light with them.
Something was terribly amiss. And Henrietta was determined to find out what it was. She intended to be covert about her snooping. And she still intended to deliver the letter…but first she wanted to understand what was going on.
Stifling her distress and rampant heartbeats, Henrietta scurried after the party, keeping a good length behind them. She maintained her clandestine presence, while moving through the abbey walls in search of answers.
Heavens, was Sebastian in here? Henrietta had deemed the abbey a refuge: a place of contemplation. But it was a strange and frightening haven. She had never been inside an abbey before, but she was sure it wasn’t supposed to have naked statues and giggling nuns scurrying about. So perhaps it wasn’t an abbey?
Too Scandalous to Wed Page 11
