She watched him go as Julia entered, and she swallowed against the tightness in her chest. Once again her eyes clouded over with tears she found impossible to repress.
“I’m so sorry. I did not mean this to happen,” she mumbled miserably as Julia approached the bed. “What must you think of me? I’m not usually so weak or so emotional.”
“The doctor said it’s to be expected in your condition,” Julia said gently.
Louisa nodded, gulping down her tears. “I know.”
“Sadly, Joshua and I were never blessed with children so I am hardly the person to give advice,” Julia told her, sighing deeply, and Louisa detected a note of regret in that sigh. “I hope you don’t mind Alistair telling me about the child, Louisa. He had to tell someone and he and I have always been close. We’ve always been open and honest with each other.”
Louisa lowered her eyes, not wanting Julia to see the agony in their depths, as all the painful moments since James had almost ruined them swept over her. “No, I don’t mind—but you must have been shocked.”
“No. I wasn’t shocked. Surprised is the word I would use—and pleased. You see, Alistair decided that after his marriage to Marianne, which was tempestuous, to say the least, and far from happy, he would never give another woman the chance to hurt him again. I’ve been telling him for years to forget about her and what she did to him, and marry again—if not for his own sake then for Mark’s. I do my best and do adore the child, but he does need a mother. It will be hard for Alistair to give up his independence, I know, but it’s high time he settled down and distanced himself from some of the people he is sometimes seen with.”
Louisa glanced at Julia sharply, detecting a note of censure in her tone. “Oh! What do you mean?”
“I would not dream of advising Alistair on his choice of friends—indeed, he would not stand for it—but I am not ignorant of the fact that he often keeps the company of Lady Bricknell and her associates when he’s in town. Oh, their relationship is purely platonic, not of an intimate nature, you understand, Louisa,” she said hurriedly, when she caught Louisa’s sharp, enquiring glance. “Her husband and Alistair were close friends for many years before his tragic death in a riding accident.”
“Alistair has told me this,” Louisa said, in an attempt to make it easier for her.
“And you have met her?”
“Only very briefly.”
“She is high up the social scale, I grant you, which makes her desirable in consequence, but there is nothing genteel about her behaviour. It is well known that she keeps open house and her soirées can be described as ostentatious routs, and I consider the people who attend them to be a sad set of beings.”
Louisa listened with quiet amusement, wondering what Julia would say if she were to tell her that she had paid an uninvited yet brief visit to one of Lady Bricknell’s soirées herself, and that, recalling the conversation between them at Dunstan House, she had found her to be a woman blessed with complacency and kindness, being at ease and affable, and she could well understand why she was such a popular lady.
“Her husband left her immensely rich, I believe, and a woman with such a colourful character is bound to be popular, I suppose. But, Julia—how can you say you were pleased when Alistair told you about the child? You must see that he doesn’t want to marry me,” Louisa said in a low voice, meeting Julia’s eyes directly.
“Now that I cannot believe, Louisa. Alistair took improper advantage of you and has a duty to stand by you. Besides, he must feel something for you, otherwise you would not be in the condition you are now. I can see you care for him a great deal,” she said softly.
Louisa swallowed hard. “Yes,” she whispered, realising with stark reality that she did care for him, deeply. “I do. Very much.”
“Well, then—try not to worry about anything else. It is not good for the baby. And I wouldn’t worry too much about Alistair, either. I know my brother. Oh, he is the most stubborn man I have ever known. His mind is so strong, so powerful, that it can completely override all his emotions. After Marianne’s death he stored them all away—both his emotions and his memories—separating himself from anything whose loss could cause him further anguish. When wronged he is unyielding—refusing to forgive or forget.”
Louisa sighed sadly. “Then, knowing this, I have little hope of softening his attitude towards myself.”
Julia smiled softly and, reaching out, gave her hand a reassuring, comforting squeeze. “You are being too hard on yourself. Alistair has a wilful heart and will stand his ground, but he’ll come round. He wouldn’t allow himself to be forced into anything he objected to—which goes to show that under his male arrogance and indomitable pride he cares for you too.”
Louisa gave a wry smile. “I think it’s the child he is thinking about.”
Julia frowned in disagreement. “Be patient with him, I beg you, and do not underestimate yourself, Louisa. You are an extremely beautiful young woman. Any man would be proud to have you as his wife. And Alistair will not be able to resist you once you are married. You’ll see. He isn’t made of stone, you know. I want nothing more than for the two of you to fulfil each other’s lives—as mine is with Joshua.”
“With everything that is between us it will be no easy matter,” Louisa sighed, with a far-away look in her eye.
Julia glanced at her curiously, strongly suspecting that there was more to Alistair’s relationship with Louisa than he had told her, and she sincerely hoped that whatever it was would be resolved once they were married.
“There is nothing that cannot be defeated, Louisa—not even my brother’s indomitable will and stubborn refusal to see beyond his own situation. And when the child is born it is bound to draw you closer together. It will be a bridge between you. You’ll see.”
“Julia—what was she like—Marianne?” Louisa asked tentatively as she rose from the bed and was about to turn away, her feminine curiosity about her predecessor getting the better of her. “Was—was she very beautiful?”
Julia’s smile faded and her face became grim as she averted her eyes, her voice strained. “Yes, she was. I would be lying if I said otherwise. But she was also completely selfish, having learned from an early age how to twist men round her finger—and Alistair was no exception.”
“Then perhaps he fell so much in love with her that she cast a spell over him, so that he can never love another woman again,” Louisa sighed.
“No,” Julia laughed. “It wasn’t like that. Alistair can be a passionate man, but he can be remarkably disciplined when he so wishes. Marianne scarred him deeply, and after her women became a bitter fruit for him.”
Louisa listened, amazed, for her remembrance of Alistair’s lovemaking did not bring to mind an embittered man. Quite the opposite, in fact.
“But—forgive me, Louisa. I think you should ask Alistair about Marianne. I make no secret of the fact that I never got on with her and could never forgive her for treating him so abominably, so my opinion of her is extremely biased.”
She smiled suddenly, clearly not wishing to embark on further discussion about her brother’s first wife. “Now, I can see that you’re tired so I’m going to leave you. I’ll have one of the maids assigned to you until we can find one to attend you on a more permanent basis. Providing you are well enough, we have a heavy schedule tomorrow, if we are to fit you out with a new wardrobe, so I hope you manage to get some rest.”
“I will—and thank you, Julia. You have been very kind—more than I deserve.”
Feeling much better the following afternoon, Louisa went shopping with Julia, who happily transported her into a world of high fashion. They went to the most fashionable milliners, hosiers and glove makers to be found near the Exchange, then to the smartest drapers, where they purchased the finest linen petticoats and nightdresses, going on to the silk mercers on Ludgate Hill before finishing in New Bond Street, Julia advising and superintending the choice of colours and materials for her new gowns. Alistair had insis
ted on only the finest, and very soon Louisa’s head was in a whirl as she was measured for a wide range of sumptuous gowns, some designed for the future to accommodate her expanding waistline.
Having finished the shopping for one day, and feeling pleasantly exhausted, Louisa emerged into the afternoon sunshine to the waiting carriage, leaving Julia inside the shop to make arrangements for further fittings for the gowns she had been measured for, and to instruct the proprietor to have items they had purchased that day delivered to Dunstan House.
At that moment Louisa saw Sir Charles Meredith sauntering down the street, dressed as magnificently as if he were going to a Court ball. His expression was one of hauteur and pleasant civility, and his eyes glowed when he saw her, complimenting her appearance, a smile parting his sensual lips.
“Why, Miss Divine! It’s been an absolute age since I last saw you in St James’s Park. Too long, in fact,” he said, smiling down at her with good humour.
Concealing the rush of dislike and repugnance that washed over her on seeing him again, for she had no reason to be uncivil to him, Louisa gave him her usual courteous attention, but there was no welcoming smile on her lips.
“I’ve been at home in Surrey since then and only returned to London yesterday.”
“I see. I’ve been away myself until recently.”
“To your home, Sir Charles?”
“Yes. In Sussex.”
Suddenly he had all Louisa’s attention. She’d had no idea that he lived in the same county as Alistair. “Really! Whereabouts in Sussex?”
“A village close to Huntswood, the home of Lord Dunstan, as it happens,” he told her quietly, watching her reaction and smiling faintly.
Louisa gave him a level stare, all her senses suddenly vibrating and alert, her instinct telling her that there was some underlying, devious reason for him telling her this. “And was the country not to your taste, Sir Charles?”
His eyes slipped her a stealthy glance. “On the contrary. It has its charming, feminine diversions—one young lady in particular has claimed my attention—and I intend returning there very soon. But country ways are monotonous and too confined for my taste, and I do not care to be away from London for long.”
“Then perhaps the lady you pursue could be persuaded to come to London, too?”
“Unfortunately not. She is rather young, you see,” he said quietly and with a conspiratorial lowering of an eyelid, scarcely troubling to conceal his glee, “and, if it is not the servants or her dragon of an elder sister on sentry duty twenty-four hours a day who restrict her movements, she is often under the watchful eye of her dominant brother. But in time—with a little gentle coaxing and planning—I am sure I shall succeed in prising her away.”
Louisa stiffened and found herself staring at him, finding it odd that she should think of Sophie, Alistair’s sister, at that moment, and that she should recall the conversation she’d had with Sir Charles in St James’s Park, and his crude remarks after Alistair and his sisters had moved on that day. The encounter had been brief, but it had shaken her, because the bold message in his eyes had told her that he had marked Alistair’s young sister down as a victim. She remembered all too clearly how he had looked at her—and what he had said about the unobtainable being the most desirable.
If she was concerned by her thoughts she concealed it, for if matters were so hostile between Alistair and Sir Charles, then Sir Charles was hardly likely to pay court to his sister. And Sophie was so young, only sixteen, in fact, and no match for an experienced man of Sir Charles’s unprincipled reputation, a man almost twice her age.
But he had told her himself that he would make Alistair pay for what he had done to him, for stealing Marianne away from him. Would he dare compromise or harm Sophie in his desire to exact revenge? No, she thought, reproaching herself severely for thinking such fanciful, ridiculous thoughts. She must dismiss such imaginings from her mind. However, her every instinct was alert and made her wary of him.
“For the time being,” he went on, breaking into her thoughts, his gaze moving from her mouth to her breasts with rakish leisure and then to her eyes, “there is someone equally desirable standing not so far away from me at this very moment.” Initially his interest had been bestowed on Louisa half in jest, wanting to prolong and enjoy the chase—his eager pursuit being for the sheer novelty of the experience—but now he desired more from the delectable Miss Divine. “Let us arrange a meeting.”
Astonishment arched Louisa’s brows and she felt her cordiality slipping, no longer able to hide the distaste she felt for Sir Charles Meredith—especially in light of her suspicions where Sophie was concerned.
“What? You are impertinent, sir. That is not possible—and nor do I wish to have anything to do with you on those lines.”
He chuckled, undeterred by her sudden show of anger. “I cannot believe that. Fraser is not always so attentive towards you. Come, now, charm is hardly his stock-in-trade, is it?”
“I am allergic to your kind of charm, Sir Charles. It does not seduce me,” she said curtly, meeting his gaze directly, knowing the moment of truth had arrived. “It is time I confessed who I really am. Contrary to what you may believe, James Fraser is my brother, not—as you surmised and for reasons of my own I let you believe—my lover.”
Sir Charles stared at her, both startled and pleasantly surprised, believing that nothing now stood in his way. “Good Lord! Who would have thought it? You mean you are not Miss Divine after all? That it was all a charade?”
“That is correct. My name is Louisa Fraser.”
He chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming. “You’re a plucky little gamester, aren’t you, my dear? This alters things considerably. If it was a game you were playing then I like games too. In fact, some of them I happen to be very good at. We could meet—spend an evening together.” He was adamant.
“No, sir. I think not.”
“But you must. I find you an immense challenge.”
“Do you?”
“Indeed. I must tell you that I am an obstinate man, Miss Fraser, and noted for my persistence.”
“Then you will be disappointed. You see, I am not free to spend an evening with you, and nor do I wish to,” she said sharply.
“I will not take no for an answer.”
His tenacity was beginning to anger and irritate her, which made Louisa’s tone lightly contemptuous when she spoke. “It is quite out of the question, Sir Charles. I am betrothed.”
Sir Charles’s brows rose slightly in frank astonishment. “Betrothed? May I enquire to whom?”
“Yes, you may. It is no secret. It is Lord Dunstan I am to marry, Sir Charles. Your neighbour, I believe?”
Sir Charles’s reaction was one of absolute shock. He drew back and his smooth, amiable manner vanished immediately, his countenance taking on a look of anger. “My, my,” he jeered wrathfully, looking at her as if she were a traitor. “Things have moved on apace in my absence. I must say I find it strange that Dunstan should choose to marry a woman whose brother he damn near ruined. Is his desire for you so great that he has rescinded that debt?”
“Whatever the reason, Sir Charles, it is none of your affair,” Louisa replied coldly.
“And you believe his intentions towards you are honourable?”
“If you are implying that he is playing fast and loose with me then you are mistaken,” she said, with a calm that belied her rioting feelings. “Everything is arranged. We are to be married before the month is out at Bierlow, my home in Surrey.”
Sir Charles’s jaw tightened and his lips twisted in a malicious sneer. “Then so much the worse for you,” he said grimly. “You are a fool if you imagine you are to be the next Lady Dunstan. He thinks no more of you than all the other faceless wonders who have tried to capture his eye in the past—since he killed Marianne.”
Louisa felt her heart freeze and she went very pale, his words searing through her like the hot blade of a knife. For a moment she thought she was going to faint.
She stepped back from him, all the people milling about in the street becoming grey formless shadows as she stared at him, disbelieving, thinking she was going mad. Unless it was this cool, insolent creature, who seemed determined to ruin everything for her, who was the madman.
“What did you say?”
“That he killed Marianne—the woman who was to have married me—as surely as if it had been his hands that held her head under the water in which she drowned.”
A sound of hysteria and denial rose in Louisa’s throat, which did not pass her lips, followed close by a wave of sick disgust sweeping over her. At this moment in her life, when she was already battered inside, survival for herself and her unborn child was all-important to her, and nothing Sir Charles Meredith could say would convince her that Alistair was guilty of committing such a horrendous crime. She favoured Sir Charles with a glance of biting contempt.
“You are lying,” she flung at him with shaking fury, recovering her self-possession as she hastened to defend the man she was to marry. “I do not believe you. Alistair may be accused of many things, but I do not believe he would commit anything as culpable as murder.”
“He may not have struck the blow—in a manner of speaking, you understand—but the result was the same.”
“I find your accusations both vile and rash and I have no wish to hear more,” Louisa fumed. “Whatever is between you and Lord Dunstan has nothing to do with me.”
The savagery in her tone startled Sir Charles. “You are wrong, my dear. It has everything to do with you if you are to become his wife. Perhaps you will think twice before you consider shackling yourself to a murderer,” he hissed, his voice low and quivering. “He destroyed my life. He will destroy yours in the same rotten manner if you let him. If you marry him you are a fool.”
He ended on that note, for at that moment he caught sight of Julia approaching and his face turned puce. He scowled angrily, bowing briskly. “Excuse me. Your servant, madam.”
“Wait,” Louisa said quickly, halting him as he was about to turn away, alarmed at the hatred that festered inside him, hate that had clearly increased a thousandfold over the five years since Marianne’s death. “Whatever it was that happened between you and Alistair was a long time ago. Can you not let the matter rest? Please, Sir Charles, do not make mischief,” she begged.
An Innocent Proposal Page 19
