by Merry Farmer
“Oh?” Reese grinned at him. “It sounds serious.”
It was serious. Ever since Ellie had pushed him away from their kiss the day before, his conscience had been roiling. She was right to put a stop to what could have been much more between them. She was right to suggest that their ruse had gone too far and needed to draw to a close. They’d started off wrong, and if there was even a ghost of the chance of the two of them being together, they would have to come clean.
“I’ve been lying to you,” he said, easing Hector into a slower walk. They were far from the house, far from any prying ears, and he wanted to keep it that way until the truth was completely out.
“What do you mean, lying?” Reese asked uncertainly.
Henry clenched his jaw, fighting down the wave of shame that threatened to bubble up in him. Reese had felt forced to lie about himself in so many ways for so long, but he’d finally confessed everything about his differences to Henry a few years ago. It had been a relief for both of them to be utterly transparent with each other, and now Henry had broken that bond of trust.
“Ellie is not Helena Mortimer,” he confessed in a rush.
Reese pulled his horse to a full stop, turning to face Henry directly with a confused frown. “What do you mean, not Helena Mortimer?”
Henry blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “My fiancée, Miss Helena Mortimer, fancied herself in love with one of the porters on the R.M.S. Kestrel. When they docked in London, she ran off with the porter.”
“But—”
Henry raised a hand to stop what could turn into a flood of questions. “Ellie was Miss Mortimer’s maid. It’s rather a long story, but she broke the news of Miss Mortimer’s elopement to me.”
Reese blinked a few times, then asked, “So how did she end up taking her mistress’s place?”
With a wince, Henry confessed, “That was my idea for her to impersonate Miss Mortimer in order to play a joke on Father. I was angry that old bastard had sold me off in marriage.”
Reese let out a wry, humorless laugh. “I know how you feel on that score.”
“Yes, well, it gets worse.”
“Worse than tweaking Father’s nose, you mean?”
Henry rubbed a hand over his face. His brother was taking things well, considering the circumstances. But he didn’t know the whole story. “Ellie isn’t just a lady’s maid. Before her association with Miss Mortimer, she…she was a whore working in a brothel in the American West.”
Reese’s brow shot up so fast that Henry was certain his eyebrows would fly right off. “Ellie is…you brought her…to Father….” He cleared his throat, adjusted his seat, and asked in a slightly elevated voice, “Does Mother know?”
“No, of course not,” Henry sighed. “It would break her heart. It will break her heart.”
“And it will cause Father to burst a blood vessel once he knows,” Reese went on. He shook his head, then had to steady his horse, who danced to the side as if he too were flabbergasted by the whole thing. “Well, she’ll have to go,” he said. “You’ll have to make some excuse and get her out of here as soon as possible.”
“That’s just the thing,” Henry said, disappointed by his brother’s reaction. “I love her.”
Reese’s eyes went wide again, but this time, instead of bursting into another round of shock, a bittersweet, knowing look came to his eyes. “You love her,” he sighed.
“I do,” Henry insisted, carried away on a wave of everything he felt. “She’s truly the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met, Reese. And as she explained, she didn’t become a whore by choice. Life was cruel to her.”
“And you want to save her?”
“Yes,” Henry answered, then shook his head. “Well, no. I think that job has already been done.” When Reese glanced strangely at him, he went on with. “The place where she was…working, in Haskell, Wyoming, is more of a reformatory for women who want to get out of that life than a full-fledged brothel. Or so I understand. Ellie was already well on her way to picking herself up out of that life and moving on to better things.”
“I see.”
“Do you?” Henry was desperate for his brother to understand. “I’ve never met a woman who is filled with such determination. Such happiness as well. In spite of everything, Ellie is far happier than you or I. She has taken her life into her own hands. I was the one who convinced her to veer off course to do this…this favor for me.”
“And you fell in love with her for it,” Reese finished his thought. Fortunately, he looked as though he genuinely believed Henry.
“I did.” Henry nodded. “She embodies everything I want to be. I want to lift myself out of this wasted existence we live.”
The brothers were silent. Anyone else would have taken offense at Henry’s words, seeing as the life he wanted out of was the life that Reese was fated to live. But they both knew exactly what the cost of that life was, especially when it was dominated by a father who saw them as pawns instead of beloved children.
“So what do you want to do about it?” Reese asked at last, quiet and solemn.
“I want to marry her,” Henry said. “I want to make a life with her, doing something useful rather than wasting my life contributing nothing of any consequence to the world.”
To Henry’s surprise, Reese let out an ironic laugh and shook his head. “We both want to marry people who are forbidden to us.”
It was Henry’s turn to blink in shock. “You…how…who….”
“He barely knows I exist,” Reese confessed in a near whisper. “Even if he did, even if he shared my feelings, it would be utterly impossible. I’m stuck with the harpy princess instead. You, on the other hand,” he said before Henry could get a word in, “actually have the ability to marry the person you want. The law won’t stop you. I don’t think the church would even stop you.”
“But Father would.”
Reese snorted. “How? You’re far too old to be locked in your room and fed only bread and water until you concede to his wishes. And at his age, you could thrash him in any fight.”
“But he’s Father,” Henry insisted.
“And the worst possible thing he could do to you would be to disinherit you and cut off your money.” Reese stared pointedly at him. “Which would only last until the old bastard kicks up his heels and hands the reins over to me. Knowing you the way I do, would that really be so bad?”
It wouldn’t. Henry knew it in an instant. In fact, the very idea of being cut free from the bonds that chained him to his legacy made his heart soar. If he were free to start over, to choose a profession and work, to contribute something useful to society, even if it were a struggle to get by while doing it….
“He’d forbid me to see Mother ever again,” he said as the miserable thought struck him.
Reese, too, deflated. “He would,” he admitted with a sigh. “But there has to be a way around that as well. I know plenty of fellows who have been disowned by their fathers for their peculiarities, but for most of them, their mothers have found a way to maintain contact.”
The tiny peek into Reese’s world was eye-opening. There were likely hundreds of worlds that Henry knew nothing about, hundreds of ways that people lived and got by that were only whispered about. Some were probably just so distant from what he knew—like the lives of cowpokes and ranchers in Wyoming—that he’d never considered them. But as he considered them now, hope flooded him.
“Would you support me if I took this plunge?” he asked, surprised at how much depended on the answer.
“Would you support me if I ever choose to do something outside of society to ensure my happiness?”
The question caused a sheet of cold prickles to pass down Henry’s back. He’d always considered his brother’s inclinations a mystery best not explored and so far outside of what was socially acceptable that he couldn’t comprehend them. But how very different from all that was his determination to marry an American prostitute?
“Of course I wou
ld,” he answered, voice hoarse. “You’re my brother. I love you and want you to be happy.”
The burst of emotion that came over Reese, making his eyes glassy with grateful tears, was so powerful that instead of crying, Reese burst into laughter. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear that,” he said. “I don’t think you could ever know.”
“I think I can,” Henry said, surprised to find himself blinking back tears as well. It seemed ridiculously unmanly, but in that moment he had never felt so close to his brother, so accepted by another human being, in his life. It was the most exhilarating feeling of freedom he’d ever experienced.
“Let’s ride back up to the house and take what we deserve,” Reese said, sniffing and rubbing his eyes with the back of his sleeve, then laughing at himself and Henry. “Besides, it looks like it’s about to rain.”
“Mother will be miserable if it rains on her garden party,” Henry said, laughing as well. Even though he thought a bit of cleansing rain might be just the thing right then. “Although we could take the long way ’round, if you want to make the most of the afternoon,” he added, not wanting to part company with his brother so soon after the important moment that had passed between them.
“I haven’t given Percival here the chance to run full-out for a while,” Reese said, mischief filling his eyes.
“Race you to the old bridge?” Henry suggested.
“You’re on,” Reese replied, then kicked his horse into action.
Laughing, Henry turned Hector and sped after him, hardly believing how wonderful his life suddenly felt.
CHAPTER 8
F or the first time since arriving at Albany Court, Ellie didn’t sleep a wink. It didn’t matter how comfortable the bed was or how well the servants took care of her, she couldn’t shake the crippling dread of Olympia’s unholy bargain. Mostly because she didn’t believe for a moment that the woman would stay true to her word and keep her secret in return for the same. All night long, Ellie lay awake imagining every way Olympia could cover her tracks while leaving Ellie exposed and vulnerable.
By the time dawn tickled her curtains with its rose-hued light, Ellie was achy and miserable. The strong tea that Betsy brought her helped a little, but as soon as her maid asked, “Which gown would you prefer to wear to Lady Howsden’s garden party this afternoon?” Ellie’s heart sank. The garden party. She would have to negotiate that, keeping her eye on Olympia, on no sleep.
“Whichever gown you think will impress Lady Howsden’s friends the most,” Ellie answered, splashing her face with cold water and praying for some sort of miracle.
“The pale yellow, I think,” Betsy said, smiling as she headed for the closet. “It will make you look sunny, and it looks like things will cloud over later.”
Ellie managed to give the young woman a smile as she disappeared into the closet. Betsy enjoyed all of the fancy dresses far more than Ellie did. She knew more about them too. So much so that a few hours later, as Ellie stood, close to trembling, at the edge of what Lady Howsden called the Heritage Garden, she wished fervently that Betsy were there whispering in her ear.
“I hear that bodices will be dropping even farther next season,” Lady Bartholomew commented to the small group that Ellie had been invited to join.
“That’s good,” Ellie said, touching the buttons that ran up the front of her bodice, almost halfway up her neck. “I find the current style a little constricting. It’ll be nice to show a little shoulder again.”
Lady Bartholomew and the other two gray-haired women with them, Lady Morton and Mrs. Coussinet, gaped at her as though she’d torn her bodice off and swung it around her head.
Lady Bartholomew cleared her throat, looking as though the tea she was sipping had a fly in it. “The length of the curiasse bodice as it extends below the line of the hips,” she managed to say through pursed lips.
“I’ve seen designs coming out of the finest houses in Paris that show bodices reaching almost as far as the knees,” Mrs. Coussinet added, turning her nose up.
“At least it looks as though the days of these alarming bustles are nearly over,” Lady Morton said.
“Thank heavens.” Ellie did her best to keep up, even though she’d never seen so much as a corner of a fashion plate. “It’ll be nice to have a free and loose skirt again. They’re much easier to move around in.”
Again, the women stared at her as though she’d kicked up her skirts to show her ankles right in front of them.
“The trend seems to be heading toward close-fitting, gathered skirts,” Lady Bartholomew went on. This time, she turned away from Ellie, ignoring her completely. “Though how we are expected to walk in such styles is a mystery.”
“My dear, we are not expected to walk,” Mrs. Coussinet said. “We are expected to be like statues, immobile and on display.”
“They’ll have to attach wheels to our shoes and roll us around like wheelbarrows,” Ellie tried to add to the joke. She laughed, but the other women didn’t. They stared.
Ellie lost her smile, lifting her teacup to take a sip and to hide. She’d met all of these women’s husbands at the ball the other day, and it had been easy as pie to talk to them. The men had found her charming. Their wives on their own made her feel like she was prancing around in her knickers.
“Helena, dear.” Lady Howsden swept in to rescue her. Ellie could have cried with gratitude. “I wonder if you might share your experience of the voyage across the Atlantic with my good friend, Lady Richter. She’s about to make the crossing to visit her daughter in Boston, you know, and is exceptionally anxious about storms at sea.”
“I’d be happy to, Lady Howsden,” Ellie replied as Lady Howsden took her arm and led her away from one group and over to another.
“You looked as though you needed some help,” Lady Howsden whispered in her ear as they crossed the garden.
“They were talking about French fashions,” Ellie told her. “I confess, I don’t know much about them.”
“Yes, well, I suppose styles are a bit different in America.”
Ellie stole a sideways look at Lady Howsden. It was better she think location was the problem and not an utter lack of knowledge about anything sophisticated.
“Ah, here we are. Lady Richter, this is my delightful daughter-in-law to be, Miss Helena Mortimer. I’m sure she’d be delighted to share whatever she can with you about her recent Atlantic crossing.”
Ellie did her best to smile, but her heart kicked into double-time. Not only was the handsome, white-haired Lady Richter, with her perfectly styled dress and expensive-looking jewelry, part of the group, three ladies who were closer to her own age stood with them as well. And as soon as she noticed Ellie was there with Lady Howsden, Olympia dropped the conversation she’d been having nearby to join the discussion.
“There’s really nothing to worry about,” Ellie began, her voice unsteady. She did her best not to meet Olympia’s narrow-eyed stare. “We did have a few rough days during my crossing, but Captain Tennant’s crew was well-trained in dealing with passengers in distress due to choppy waters.”
Rather than putting the older woman at ease, Lady Richter made a horrified sound and pressed her hand to her stomach. “Are you saying you were ill on your voyage?”
Ellie panicked. She had no idea whether the woman wanted the truth or a pretty lie. “A little?”
Lady Richter and the younger women as well grimaced and made sounds as though they were offended. Lady Howsden suddenly seemed nervous.
“You must excuse our little liebchen.” Olympia stepped in. “Americans can be so crude sometimes. It’s almost as though they weren’t raised in good society at all.” She gave her last sentence such a subtle emphasis that anyone who didn’t know better wouldn’t have noticed. But Ellie did.
Her panic grew. Part of her wanted to fight back. She remembered the way that her friend Domenica—a fiery woman whose family had been the equivalent of aristocrats in Old Mexico, before the United States claimed California—h
ad taken a new girl down a few notches for calling her filthy Mexican trash. Domenica would have a thing or two to say to Olympia. But Ellie knew the consequences of stepping even an inch out of line with these women would be a disaster.
“I’ve heard such wonderful things about Captain Tennant.” Lady Howsden came to her rescue once again. “He was a decorated naval officer during the Crimean conflict, you know,” she told the other ladies. “And his older brother is the Earl of Marsden.”
That caused a round of oohs and appreciation from the other women.
“Did you become acquainted with him on your voyage?” Lady Richter asked.
At last, something Ellie could be proud of. “Yes, we spent quite a lot of time together.” They didn’t need to know that it was spent chasing after the real Helena Mortimer as she drove the crew crazy.
“How very daring of you,” Olympia said, a knowing flash to her eyes. “Many engaged women would not be so bold as to form an intimate friendship with a sea captain.”
Ellie could see in an instant that Olympia’s words hit their mark with the other women. The light of suspicion was particularly sharp in Lady Richter’s eyes. Ellie’s stomach was already tied in knots, so there was nothing for those knots to do but to sag and droop within her, pulling the rest of her down into hopelessness.
This wasn’t going to work. Olympia didn’t have to come right out and reveal who she truly was. She could keep her promise about keeping Ellie’s secret and still charge ahead to destroy her reputation in the eyes of anyone that mattered. It was easy to see that being American alone—regardless of whether she was a wealthy heiress or a former whore—was enough to make these society women believe the worst about her.
“If you will excuse me, Lady Howsden, I think I’ll get some more tea.” Ellie sent her would-be mother-in-law a weak smile, then stepped away from the group.
She got no farther than three steps, brushing past Olympia, before a splash of lukewarm liquid dripped down her arm.
