The Redemption of the Shrew

by Barbara Monajem

  “I remember seeing a French engraving,” she said, “of a noble and a bishop both riding upon the back of a peasant.”

  “Exactly so, but the behavior of religious leaders does not negate religion itself. It merely obliges one to find one’s own way.”

  The chilly night wind picked up, and they hurried along the last few streets to her house. What a strange conversation to have with Philippe de Bellechasse.

  At the door, she groped in her reticule for the key, but before she found it, the door flew open. “Thank the Lord you’re home, my lady,” Elspeth said, holding up a lantern, her features tight with worry.

  “You needn’t have waited up for me. I was perfectly safe with Mr. Alexander and then Monsieur le Marquis.” Gloriana turned to say farewell to Philippe and realized he was shivering. “Oh, drat, your clothing is wet. You must be so cold! Come indoors.” Before he had a chance to refuse, she tugged him inside and shut the door.

  ~ ~ ~

  Philippe was bloody cold, but more than that, he was taken by surprise. He was suspicious of women by long experience. He hoped to God this wasn’t another attempt to entrap him. He recognized the maid—the same one who’d opened the door to him at the Dower House in Lancashire.

  “Elspeth, I lost my temper and spilled a pot of porter on Monsieur le Marquis, and he is like to catch his death of cold,” Gloriana said. “Please find a spare shirt and breeches. Gregory is about his size.” She turned to Philippe. “Gregory is my footman. Come, let’s go to the kitchen, as there are sure to be some warm coals in the stove.”

  The kitchen sounded safe enough, and the maid would be there, too—not that servants were much use as chaperones. According to gossip, Gloriana had dispensed with her elderly female companion. He shouldn’t have come inside.

  “Don’t take this as an apology, by the way,” she said. “As I told you earlier, I don’t want your death on my hands.”

  “Nor do I, but it is improper for me to enter your house when you have no female relative living with you. It was foolish of you to get rid of her.”

  “That is none of your business!” she cried.

  “It endangers your reputation and renders you vulnerable to unwanted advances,” he said as stuffily as possible.

  “You’re as bad as my brother. Stop fussing. No one will know you were here.”

  Perhaps, but he didn’t trust her. He wouldn’t remain here any longer than absolutely necessary.

  The maid led them down a dark corridor and a flight of stairs to the kitchen. She lit a branch of candles and set it on the deal table. The kitchen was blessedly warm. A boy slept on a pallet in a corner, wrapped in a rug.

  “No, don’t wake him, Elspeth,” Gloriana said. “I’ll poke the fire into life. Just get the clothing, please.” She opened the stove and peered inside. “I’ll need to add more coals.”

  More surprised by the second, Phillipe found the coal scuttle and brought it over. He tried to take the poker from her. “Let me do that.”

  “I’m perfectly capable,” she began testily, and then added with a huff, “but likely you need the warmth.” She relinquished the poker. “I’ll heat some water. A good cup of tea will warm your insides.” She lifted a kettle from the stove, testing its weight. “This won’t be enough.”

  The boy turned over and muttered something, pushing himself up on an elbow.

  “It’s all right, Tom. Go back to sleep,” Gloriana said. The boy subsided with a grunt and began dutifully to snore, and she disappeared into what Philippe supposed was the scullery. He added coals and got the fire going. After a minute, he heard voices—hers and Elspeth’s—and Gloriana returned with a kettleful of water and set it on the stove.

  “I don’t need tea,” he said belatedly. “A change of clothes, and I’ll be on my way.”

  “Elspeth says you’ll want to sponge down to get rid of the odor of porter. She’ll put you in the butler’s pantry for privacy.”

  “How very kind of her,” he managed. And where would Gloriana be whilst he was half naked?

  “Elspeth is the kindest, best person in the world,” Gloriana said.

  The maid appeared with an armful of clothing and a frown. “Nonsense, Miss Gloriana, I’m only doing my job. Off to bed with you. I’ll get Monsooer taken care of and on his way.”

  “Thank you, Elspeth.” Gloriana turned to Philippe. “My pistol, please.”

  He handed it to her. “Promise you’ll let me find the book for you.”

  “You’re the one who should be promising—to stay out of my business. Thank you for bringing me home.” She lit herself a candle from the branch on the table and left.

  He blew out a frustrated breath, watching her fade into the dim corridor. He shouldn’t have reprimanded her. Nothing was more certain to put her back up.

  Elspeth poured hot water into a jug and preceded him to the butler’s pantry. She set a basin, a washcloth, and a towel on a shelf. “There you go, sir. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

  “Thank you, Elspeth.”

  “And by the bye, sir—”

  “Yes?”

  “Pray accept my apologies on my mistress’s behalf. She’s even-tempered most of the time, but when her feelings are hurt, she’s liable to lash out.”

  “Ah,” he said.

  “I don’t know if it was something you said, sir, but I can always tell when she’s sore to the heart, poor love.”

  How could the damned woman’s feelings be hurt by the truth?

  Unless what he had implied wasn’t the truth.

  He made short work of dressing and found, upon returning to the kitchen, that the maid had not only brewed a pot of tea, but had fetched a decanter of brandy.

  “Just what you need to warm your insides.” She dolloped some into his steaming cup.

  He couldn’t bring himself to refuse. Besides, each encounter with Gloriana left him more baffled. Perhaps this was an opportunity to understand her—or more likely to find more reasons to avoid her. He took a chair and warmed his hands on the cup. “Does your mistress often get a fire going herself?”

  “Often enough that she knows what she’s doing, sir.” Elspeth poured a cup of tea for herself and set the pot at the edge of the stove to keep warm. Then she sat across from him—as if she considered herself his equal! How astonishing, particularly in the household of Gloriana Warren.

  “It’s an unusual accomplishment in a lady,” he said, once he had mastered his surprise.

  “True, but she tries to be considerate of those who serve her.” She offered him a loaf of sugar and a pair of nippers, which he refused, and then nipped off a small lump for herself. “Sometimes she comes down in the night to make tea or hot milk. She refuses to wake anyone to help. She says we need our sleep, and right glad we are of that. You wouldn’t believe how many ladies expect service from before dawn until midnight, and sometimes in the wee hours as well. It’s right cruel, sir.”

  He sighed internally at this second point in Gloriana’s favor. Elspeth seemed to expect a response, so he said, “My parents were just such people, which is one reason we became estranged when I was young.” He wasn’t about to explain the other reason—the one which had caused the permanent rupture of their relationship. “I left home at the age of sixteen and never returned.”

  “Tsk,” she said. “All on your own, sir?”

  “Not quite. I found work, and I had help from courageous friends, and then the revolution took hold. My parents had other matters to worry them after that.”

  “Such as keeping their heads, sir?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Tsk,” she said again. “It’s barbaric, that’s what it is. Nor is it right that a young nobleman such as yourself was reduced to working for a living. Not that you aren’t able, sir, but y
ou weren’t bred to it.”

  “It was good for me.” Maybe Elspeth didn’t know about his career as a thief, for she nodded at this and serenely sipped her tea. Again, his suspicions poked up their heads like mushrooms, but he quelled them. He needed information more than he needed to protect himself. Far worse trouble hung over his head than what a night in Gloriana’s house might cause.

  “It was not long after Lord Garrison’s scandal,” she said, as if he’d asked a question. “The present Lord Garrison, that is. And then came Miss Daisy’s scandal.” She shook her head at that. “But she’s Lady Kerr now and very happy with Sir Julian.”

  “He’s an excellent fellow and one of my closest friends.”

  She smiled. “Is that so, sir? I’m happy to hear it.”

  This might be merely politeness, or it might conceal an ulterior motive. Sir Julian would consider him obliged to marry Gloriana if he compromised her. He shouldn’t linger here. He drank some tea, scalding the roof of his mouth.

  Maybe he was being a coward right now, but that didn’t explain why Gloriana thought him one.

  “With two recent scandals in the family, old Lady Garrison was beside herself with worry that Miss Glow wouldn’t marry well, or at all,” Elspeth said. “One day she caught her sharing a jest with a footman and flew into a rage. She dismissed the footman without pay for daring to smile at Miss Glow.”

  This was the sort of senseless, cruel act of which he would have thought Gloriana capable. During the year after that incident in the summerhouse, she’d shown herself to be a copy of her mother and her equally haughty aunt.

  “Poor Miss Glow was distraught. She begged and pleaded with Lady Garrison to keep the footman. It wasn’t his fault, she said. She’d been the one to jest. Lady Garrison wouldn’t budge. A footman who doesn’t know his place must be got rid of, and how did Miss Glow expect to marry well if she hobnobbed with servants? There was a rare to-do, and Miss Glow lost her temper, and Lady Garrison threatened to dismiss me if she didn’t shape up, and Miss Glow swore she would run away if I were let go.” Elspeth choked up a little on those words. “She’s a lovely, loyal lady, but I would never have permitted her to do so.”

  “I don’t suppose she would have waited for your permission,” he said ruefully.

  Elspeth smiled again. “No, sir, most likely not.” She had a friendly smile . . . But no, she showed no sign of wishing to beguile him. Come to think of it, he knew she had a sweetheart—a big fellow, solid and muscular by the look of him, probably one of Lord Garrison’s footmen. He’d taken an evening walk last summer at Garrison House and glimpsed them kissing under cover of darkness.

  Damnation, he had become so wary of women that even a pleasant-faced lady’s maid had become a threat! More evidence of incipient cowardice—although, once again, nothing to do with Gloriana’s comment.

  It still irked him. No man likes to be called a coward, but at least he should know why he is so accused.

  Elspeth took up the tale again. “Her ladyship took to her bed—her usual method of expressing a grievance, but to be just, her health was poor by then—and Miss Glow sent me after the footman with all she had left of her allowance. She wrote secretly to Lord Garrison in London, who gave the man his full year’s pay—more than was owed—and wrote him a good reference. But after that, Miss Glow learned to pretend, for—” The maid paused, perhaps thinking better of what she was about to say. “She’s a good actress, sir.”

  “Is she,” he said, but it wasn’t a question. It seemed he knew very little about the real Gloriana Warren.

  ~ ~ ~

  Sophie’s lover arrived so late that she’d begun to give up hope of seeing him that night. “Ah, mon Dieu, I am so happy you have come, Eric.” She shut the door and hurried ahead of him up the back stairs.

  “I’ve just got here, love,” he murmured, “but I’ll be coming soon, I hope.”

  She laughed softly. She loved his vulgar jests. He did not pretend to be something he was not.

  In her bedchamber, he shucked his overcoat and laid it on a chair. “I met your brother tonight.”

  “What?” she squeaked and clapped a hand over her mouth. What if one of the children woke? She hurried over to lock the door. “When? Does he know about us?”

  “No.” He grinned. “You did not tell me he was a thief.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that. She couldn’t admit to Philippe’s criminal past.

  “I see why you couldn’t,” he said. “It so happens he’s friendly with Cartway, a burglar I’m acquainted with. And you are correct—he is in love with Miss Glow.”

  “Tell me!” she said, so while she undressed him, he told her about playing bo-peep with Miss Glow, who, he said, was the tensest armful he’d ever encountered. “At first, I thought it was because she is an innocent, not used to such close proximity to a man.”

  “A man with a reputation,” she said wryly. A reputation which he had mended as best he could. He was a clergyman and a schoolmaster. If their liaison were revealed, the consequences would be disastrous. Miss Glow’s school was a respectable one, and Eric risked his livelihood every time he sneaked into Sophie’s house.

  “But when your brother came into the tavern, I realized it was also because she is in love with him.” He chuckled. “He scolded her, and he was jealous of me. Called me a libertine.”

  “How dare he!” But Eric was laughing, so she knew he didn’t mind. He was so easygoing, so forgiving, and so kind. What if she told him why they couldn’t marry, and he decided to end the liaison? She couldn’t keep refusing without a valid reason, or he would think she didn’t love him.

  If she really loved him, she should send him away.

  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

  “Nothing, why should there be?” She unbuttoned the fall of his breeches. She kept her eyes downcast, for she could not meet his gaze.

  He ran his hand through her hair and kissed the top of her head. There was a pause—a silence that frightened her. Don’t ask me to marry you again. Please don’t.

  He didn’t. Instead, he said, “Between us, Cartway and I forced him to accompany Miss Glow home. We shall see what comes of that.”

  “He refuses to take her to bed. He insists he does not love her.”

  Her lover snorted. “He couldn’t keep his eyes off her.” Judging by the way Eric was looking at Sophie, he felt much the same way about her. “We don’t have long tonight, love. Let’s disport ourselves while we can.”

  In other words, until it is over. She thrust that thought away and kissed him with all the desperate passion in her heart.

  Chapter 9

  Gloriana huddled under the coverlet and wondered what Elspeth was saying to Philippe. She was probably apologizing on her behalf.

  Oh, God, why did he think she was a wanton? He’d wanted to marry her, or so he’d said. How could he think she’d gone to him naked for any reason but love?

  As well as longing for escape from her mother and aunt, that is, but Philippe had been a godsend—or so she’d thought. She wouldn’t have used a similar trick on any other man. She would have put up with her autocratic, bigoted female relatives until they died, exactly as she had done in the end.

  She tossed and turned and tossed again. After a while, she heard Elspeth close the front door and shoot the bolt across. She considered getting up to question the maid, but decided against it. Far better to accept that Philippe disdained her. Far better to set all feelings for him in the past where they belonged.

  She slept late, but woke determined to find her own path to the tranquility of the previous months. She couldn’t stop Philippe from risking his life, but she had done her best. If only she knew what, if anything, he had said to Elspeth last night! But she shouldn’t ask. She shouldn’t care. She should concentrate on finding a way to recover
the book without Philippe’s help.

  But oh, how she wanted to know.

  She returned to her first idea, that of befriending Lady Marianne Delfin, in the hope of getting a chance to search for the book herself. To avoid arousing suspicion, she must make an oblique approach rather than a direct one. And she must be patient, for it would take time.

  She had Elspeth help her into a blue wool walking dress. “Another chilly day,” she said.

  “Windy, too, like last night. You’d best wear your new pelisse.”

  She eyed Elspeth, wondering if she’d mentioned last night on purpose. “I do hope the marquis reached home in good health.”

  “I expect he did,” Elspeth said.

  “I assume you served him tea.” Irritably, realizing the maid was amused, Gloriana crammed a fur-trimmed bonnet over her hair. “You took long enough to get him out the door.”

  “Tea with brandy.” She held out Gloriana’s matching pelisse. “I don’t think he wanted it, but he’s a civil sort of man. He didn’t even balk when I seated myself at the table. Seemingly, he truly does believe in equality.”

  “Yes, he does.” Gloriana buttoned the pelisse and picked up her gloves. “I suppose you apologized for me.”

  Elspeth nodded. “Aye, but I warned him that he must have hurt your feelings.”

  Gloriana groaned. “What did he say?”

  “Naught. He went and changed his clothes.”

  Evidently, he didn’t care. Why, oh why, was she always surprised? “I wish you hadn’t told him. It served no useful purpose.” And she didn’t want it to, she reminded herself.

  But she couldn’t contain her misery. “He well-nigh accused me of being a wanton.”

  “Tsk,” Elspeth said, adding gently, “but perhaps he thought he had reason.”

  “I was in love with him then! How could he so misjudge me?”