Shrouded Passions

by Faye Hall

  Devon had always been a temptation to her, and now wasn’t any different. Her flesh still tingling from the intense passion she’d just shared with Devon, Lotte admitted that things were indeed different now, far more so than she had envisioned them being.

  She was no longer just sneaking into Devon’s study to taunt him and keep her memory ever constant in his mind. Now she was surrendering her body to him, wherever and whenever he seemed to wish. She was acting little better than the whore she had pretended to be when first their passions reignited at the Pioneer Hotel. Lotte knew what she was behaving like. She knew too what she was allowing Devon to treat her as, still she couldn’t stop what was happening.

  She wanted to put business first, concentrating only on finding the person who was blackmailing Elizabeth. Lotte wanted to be able to focus all her attention on Elizabeth and finding just what she needed to prove her the murderess she knew her to be. She wanted all of this so she might be able to return to the life that was so suddenly taken from her. She wanted…

  Falling back on her bed, Lotte admitted what she wanted most was the life with Devon that was taken from her. She wanted to be able to go to this man freely, surrendering her passions to him, not fearful they would be discovered. Lotte wanted to be freed from the shroud of secrecy she and Devon had always been forced to live under. She wanted to love this man as she once had, as she still did.

  The sound of Elizabeth ringing the bell pull dragged Lotte from her pitiful musings. She didn’t know if she could face Elizabeth, not now at least, her anger growing at what had been forced to become of her life. It was all starting to be too much for her, and Lotte wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep doing this. She had to find what she needed to prove Elizabeth’s guilt and be done with this charade.

  The bell rang again, more insistently and constantly. Wiping the tears from her face, Lotte straightened her clothing and walked to the house to attend to her mistress.

  Standing in Elizabeth’s room, Lotte went about her duties of readying her mistress for her engagement that evening.

  “You truly are a wonder, Lotte,” Elizabeth complimented her. “In fact, I’d have to say you are the best handmaiden I’ve ever had. You know everything there is to know about the requirements of society and the most hidden secrets of some of the town’s wealthiest families. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you’d once lived in the same circles as I.”

  Lotte nodded, innocently smiling as if oblivious to what Elizabeth was meaning. She knew now wasn’t the time explain how she knew so much about the families Elizabeth was struggling to impress. “Thank you, Mrs. Munroy,” Lotte replied, knowing she still had to hide her true identity. “I try my best to be of service.”

  “You would be wise to make your ‘services’ only available to me,” Elizabeth uttered as she walked away from her handmaiden, admiring her reflection in the mirror. “Heed my warning, Lotte. Stay away from my husband.”

  “What?” Lotte asked, slightly nervous as to what her mistress could be meaning.

  Elizabeth turned back around to look at her handmaiden. “I’ve seen the way Devon looks at you. It’s the same way he’s looked at every other handmaiden that’s worked for me. And if I find you in his bed like I did all of them, your bags will be packed and you will no longer be able to work in Brandon again.”

  “I haven’t slept with your husband, Mrs. Munroy.” Lotte tried desperately to defend herself. “I don’t know why you would think such a thing.”

  Elizabeth turned back around, again admiring herself in the mirror. “Keep it that way, Lotte. If I ever hear that Devon has laid so much as a finger on you, the people of this town may well end up fishing your dead body out of the waterhole.”­

  Turning swiftly on her heels, Elizabeth walked toward the door of the room and then out to her waiting carriage.

  Looking out from behind the curtain in Elizabeth’s room, Lotte watched as her mistress got in the carriage and was driven away to attend her evening events in town. Lotte had arranged for Elizabeth to have a very full night with several of the wealthy families in Brandon. With any luck, she would be gone until the early hours of the following morning, just long enough for Lotte to search her room thoroughly for any incriminating evidence regarding the murders she was certain Elizabeth had committed.

  Waiting until the carriage had left the estate grounds, Lotte let the curtain fall back in its place as she turned back to the contents of the room. She didn’t know exactly what she was searching for, or even where to start looking. All she knew was that she needed something more than just her scars and the blackmail letter she had previously found before she could go to the police.

  Several hours later, the whole room having been thoroughly gone through, Lotte had been unable to find anything that would label Elizabeth Fanti as the murderer she knew her to be. Out of pure frustration, Lotte threw the few garments she was holding back into the open drawers, her hands going to her face. Was there nothing to prove the monster Elizabeth really was?

  If only she could find the person blackmailing Elizabeth, maybe he would be able to help her. Or if Sarah could help her find the identity of the young man seen running from Charles Davern’s house, maybe he could tell her something about Elizabeth. Lotte knew her brother had warned her about chasing this blackmailer, still she had to do this. At this moment, he was her only hope of finding what she needed.

  “What are you doing in here, Lotte?” Devon asked from the doorway.

  Her hands falling from her face, Lotte turned suddenly, surprised to see Devon there at this hour. Suddenly, she began to fear what lie she would have to tell him should he demand to know her reason for still being in Elizabeth’s room long after her mistress’s departure.

  “Your wife has already left for the evening, Devon,” Lotte began to explain. “I could send word to you when she returns if you’d like to come see her then?” Lotte stood nervously, waiting and watching as Devon took his measured steps toward her, her heart pounding in her chest.

  “I didn’t come here to see Elizabeth.” His words were soft, his stare never faltering from her.

  Stopping in front of her, Devon lifted his hand to her face, his fingertips running along her cheek as if touching something precious.

  “Who are you, Lotte?”

  She lowered her head, breaking their joined gaze and stepping away from him. “I’m your wife’s handmaiden, Mr. Munroy. And I’m the whore you hired for a night at the Pioneer Hotel.”

  Devon’s expression turned thoughtful, his eyes studying her. “You are no whore, Lotte, of that I am sure. But there is something about you, something you are hiding.”

  Lotte could feel slight fear of discovery consuming her. “I’m hiding nothing from you, Mr. Munroy,” she said, trying in vain to fob off his remark.

  Devon’s gaze narrowed slightly. “I think you are, but I can’t figure what it is, nor why you are being so secretive about it all.”

  “We are all entitled to a shroud of secrecy, sir.”

  He nodded in agreeance. “That we are, but I fear there is something more to this, something more to who you are. You seem so very familiar to me. I even noticed it that night we shared at the Pioneer Hotel. It is like we have met before, even shared time with each other before.”

  Listening to his heartfelt pleas to understand what was happening, Lotte’s heart ached to finally confess the truth to Devon. But she knew now wasn’t the time. There was still so much she had to do, things her true identity would only get in the way of.

  “We haven’t met before. Nor am I a girl you have spent part of your past with.” She bit her lip, struggling to hold her tears in check. “I’m nobody, Devon.”

  “You aren’t a nobody,” he reassured her. “Of that I am certain. As for you not being Lotte Higgins…” His words trailed off, his gaze studying her intensely. “Are you sure you aren’t my Lotte?” he finally asked her. “You are so much like her—your hair, your eyes, your smell.”

&
nbsp; “Maybe you just want me to be her,” Lotte said tartly as she turned away from him and walked toward the door. “I will tell Elizabeth you came looking for her.”

  With that, Lotte walked from the room, knowing that if she were to ever find the evidence she needed against Elizabeth, it would not be in that house.

  “Andrew,” Lotte called to the gardener as she walked outside. “I need you to send for Sarah.”

  Andrew Hult stopped weeding the garden and looked up at her. “Honey, you can’t keep sending for Sarah to meet you here. Sooner or later, Elizabeth or Devon will realize your connection to her. They will realize who you are. It isn’t safe for you being here. You need to return to the tavern and to your brother.”

  “I will, Andrew,” she assured the older man. “After I have what I need to prove it was Elizabeth who shot me and tried to murder my brother.”

  Andrew struggled to his feet. “I saved your life once, Lotte. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it again,” he said, the concern obvious in his voice. “Elizabeth Fanti is a monster, as her father was before her. She has no care for whom she must destroy along her way to get her money. Surely you must know that by now.”

  “Money?” Lotte asked, confused. “What money?”

  Andrew shook his head. “No, I have said too much already.”

  Lotte went to him, stopping him from returning to his duties. “Please, Andrew,” she pleaded with him. “I’m begging you. I need to know what money you speak of.”

  Taking his hat from his head, Andrew wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm. “George Fanti had little wealth left before he died. Some say he was on the brink of losing everything he owned here in Brandon. Elizabeth refused to live in poverty, so she told her father that he would have to arrange a profitable marriage for her. She chose Devon.”

  “Because of the money our fathers stole back in Victoria?” Lotte asked, studying him.

  Andrew shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. All I know is Elizabeth saw Devon as her money pool. When Jack Munroy and your own father died, she was certain she would inherit it all.”

  “My father?” Lotte asked. “Elizabeth could never have any claim to that though. Even after his death, all the properties, all the monies, they were left so only his children would inherit his estate.”

  Andrew nodded. “Yes, miss, but the only children she knew of were you and Patrick. She didn’t know any other existed. No one did. When she was told she wouldn’t inherit the Higgins estate and monies, Elizabeth was furious. She’s been searching these last four years to find who is left that she has to do away with so she can claim the wealth of all your families.”

  “I need to prove Elizabeth was the one who shot me, Andrew,” Lotte pleaded. “I need to prove her guilt so I might come out of hiding and get my life back.”

  Andrew put his hat back on his head, his expression sad as he looked at her. “Short of getting her to confess, Lotte, I doubt you’ll ever be able to.”­

  * * * *

  Devon stood at the window of his wife’s room, his fingers lifting the curtain subtly as he looked out to the gardens. Seeing Lotte hurriedly leaving the house, he found himself needing to see where she might be going. Watching as she ran directly to his gardener Andrew Hult, Devon found his curiosity again arising as the two continued to talk in what appeared to be quite an intense manner. It was as if they knew each other, or at the very least were familiar with each other in some way. But what connection could these two people have other than being servants of the same estate? Devon didn’t know, but as he continued observing them, something told him that whatever connection laid between these two people was far more than just casual. Usually, Andrew kept to himself and to his duty of caring for the gardens. Never before had he involved himself with, or befriended, any of the household staff. So why was this girl so different?

  His gaze intent on the two servants standing in his gardens, Devon found himself needing to know what lay between these two and how they might have come to meet each other before Lotte entered employment at his estate. He doubted they would have met each other at the Pioneer Hotel, for the behavior between them wasn’t sexual in any way. It was more… Devon couldn’t put a name to it. All he knew was that it seemed almost as if Andrew was trying to protect Lotte from something or someone. But if such was the case, why would his most trusted servant keep such a thing secret from him, and why had Lotte never mentioned to him any past she may have shared with his gardener?

  Running his free hand through his hair out of pure frustration, Devon couldn’t stop from thinking about all the secrecy that seemed to surround his wife’s handmaiden. It was almost as if she were needing to hide something from him. But what and why?

  Seeing her turn and walk back toward the house, Devon rushed down to meet her at the servant’s entrance. She was almost at the stairs that entered the house when Devon reached out to her, grabbing her by the elbow and pulling her behind the old gum tree that stood there.

  “Who are you, Lotte?” he begged her. “Please, I need to know.”

  Lotte tried to pull herself free from his hold. “I told you, Devon, I’m nobody.”

  He continued holding her, stopping her escape, his frustrations with her mounting. “Tell me what you’re hiding from me, Lotte!” he demanded. “Tell me why you are here! I want the truth!”

  Lotte finally succeeded in pulling herself free from his grip. “You care nothing for who I am or the secrets I hold.” She spat the words at him, as if hurt by something he had said or done. “All you care for is the unpaid whore I play in your bed.”

  Devon didn’t try to hide the stabbing pain her words caused. “How can you say that?” he asked, his tone suddenly much softer.

  “Have you forgotten so soon where we met?” she asked, her expression cold. “Have you bought so many whores from the Pioneer Hotel that I am now but one of many faces for you to forget?”

  Devon reached for her again, his fingers firm on her forearm, holding her and stopping her from her attempted escape. “But I didn’t buy you did I, Lotte? For you told me yourself that you wouldn’t take my money,” he reminded the struggling girl. “All I did was handpick you from every working girl at the hotel to spend the night with. I chose you because there was something so very familiar about you that I was certain I knew you. When I saw you walk past me that night through the crowded bar, I knew I had to have you even if only to try and uncover why you seemed so familiar to me. I needed to make sense of the myriad of emotions you filled me with, feelings I had not felt in so long.”

  Lotte finally succeeded in pulling herself free from his hold, tears welling in her eyes. “You didn’t want to uncover anything. You just wanted some nameless whore in your bed to sate your lust on.”

  Before he could reach out to her again to stop her, Lotte turned and ran past him back into the house.

  Devon didn’t try to follow her. He only stood watching this woman run away from him, his confusion over her ever growing. She said she wasn’t his lost love, and he knew she couldn’t be, but the constant shudder in his heart whenever he was near her forced him to ponder what if. Devon shook his head. He knew he was acting a fool. This woman he’d been bedding regularly wasn’t Lotte Higgins. She couldn’t be. But then who was she and why did she seem so familiar to him?

  Rubbing his hands across his face in frustration, Devon knew he had to bring clarity to his mind and somehow separate his past from his present. He had been told so many things about what happened that fatal night four years ago. He had been made to believe that the woman he was now so regularly bedding was little more than a handmaiden. But then why did he find writings he knew without a doubt belonged to Lotte Higgins in the drawer of this handmaiden’s room? His frustration mounting, Devon knew there was only one person who could answer these questions, but she was also the one evading them most.

  “Bring my carriage!” he yelled.

  When the driver pulled up before him, Devon went to step into the ve
hicle.

  “Take me to the Pioneer Hotel.”

  Devon knew the alcohol wouldn’t give him the answers he so needed, but it would at least help numb the emotions that were constantly being stirred inside of him.

  Arriving at the hotel, Devon stepped from his carriage. This wasn’t where he wanted to be tonight. He wanted to be in his house, in his bed with his wife’s handmaiden’s body entwined with his. Throwing a bag of coin to his driver and dismissing him, Devon couldn’t help but think yet again that Lotte wasn’t really a handmaiden. In truth, he doubted she was a working whore either. Then who was she?

  Devon didn’t know. Maybe the bartender or one of the working girls might be able to give him some answers. Surely someone in Brandon must know the truth behind who this girl really was.

  Thinking back on her words to him earlier though, Devon blamed himself for how she’d reacted. He had never treated her badly, but he had also never given her any reason to think she was any more to him than the whore he first thought her to be. But she was wrong about one thing. He didn’t want just any nameless whore in his bed to sate his lust on. He didn’t want just any woman to surrender his passions to. Who he wanted was her, only her.

  She had ignited a passion in him unlike any other he remembered feeling, even for Lotte Higgins. Something in him was sure this woman was his Lotte back from the dead...but how? And why did she keep insisting she wasn’t his lost lover?

  He hadn’t lied to Lotte about how much she reminded him of the woman he loved, nor about how much she was like her; so very much that she could almost pass as her twin. But he knew now she was also very different from the girl he remembered. Her hair was lighter. Her skin more tan than he remembered. Her curves so much more subtle and desirable. But anyone could alter their appearance to try and hide who they were. His confusion came from something far much more intense.