She had told him about the visit from Giles yesterday, although only in very general terms. She seemed to like the fellow however, and that made Max more jealous that he was comfortable with.
Harris knocked and entered then, telling him that Madam Poisson was here to see him.
Max sighed, not looking forward to seeing her again. His breeches did seem to tighten however, as he considered using her to vent some of his frustration, just as he had done so very many times in the past.
It was wrong though and he couldn’t use her in that way any longer, nor could he betray Lucy.
“Marie?” He smiled as she entered but couldn’t find the will to rise.
She came in, her large skirt bustling around her as she bent to kiss his cheek.
“Max, darling, how are you?”
“I’m fine,” he smiled.
“You don’t look fine. In fact, you look miserable.”
Max nodded; she wasn’t wrong.
“Lucy took a fall last week, she… she lost our child.”
The shock on Marie’s face was real, although she managed to hide her pleasure at that revelation.
She hadn’t known about the baby but now that she did, she was thrilled. Her little scheme couldn’t have worked out any better than it already had.
“I’m so sorry, my darling. How is Lucy?”
“Devastated,” he answered truthfully, though he couldn’t say if it was with losing the baby or him.
“You poor baby, having to deal with her pain while you must also be grieving.”
“Thank you.” He smiled at her, pleased that someone was thinking of him in all this. So far everyone’s concern had been for Lucy alone.
To his surprise, she didn’t try to tempt him into sex, nor even kiss him, other than his cheek when she arrived, she just sat there and listened as he told her all about his problems. How Lucy was so cold and unfeeling towards him now, and how he was beginning to lose hope that she would return to the warm woman that he used to know.
She said all the right things, assuring him that she just needed time and until Lucy did recover, Max was more than welcome to talk to her about his problems. He thanked her and suddenly remembered that he hadn’t even thought about contacting any of his friends in the theatre, to see about getting her an acting job. She really was a good friend to him and he should have tried to help her
After she had gone, he had time to reflect on the two women in his life, the one who wanted him and his wife, who seemingly didn’t any more.
On the surface, Marie and Lucy were completely different. Lucy was all about duty and responsibility, doing her best to live up to her dead parents’ legacies. Marie was full of fire and passion and spontaneity.
Max however, felt that both personas were, to some extent at least, an act.
Lucy could be fun and spontaneous, and she had certainly matched him in the bedroom, perhaps the only place when she felt free of Society’s constraints and able to be herself.
On the other hand, he would bet good money that Marie wasn’t nearly so carefree as she would have him believe. She wasn’t French, that much he knew but as to who she really was, he had little idea.
She was being who she thought gentlemen wanted her to be, every bit as much as Lucy was trying to prove that’s she was worthy of her inheritance.
He knew Lucy in a way that he could never know Marie though, for he had known Lucy since before she felt the burden of her estate. Even as a child, she had never exactly been carefree, Society women (even future Society women) weren’t allowed to be, but she had always possessed an adventurous spirit, and it had never been too difficult for him to talk her into accompanying him on some mischief. Nor had she ever judged him for his antics, no matter how poorly the rest of Society might view them.
Until she began managing her inheritance that is, a burden he blamed his father for placing on her shoulders. She was a young woman, she should have been free to choose her own future, free to spend her time drawing and socialising or helping at the orphanage, leaving the care of her estate to his father and her future husband.
Then he realised that he was her husband, and until she had begun to teach him, he’d had no clue how to manage her estate at all.
Reluctantly, he had to admit that perhaps his father had been right.
***
When Lucy arrived back home, she stopped into the parlour to greet Max, as a good wife should, and her nose was immediately assaulted with the scent of lavender and musk.
She had been here.
Lucy quickly excused herself and went to her room. She approached the window and looked out on the small garden at the rear of the house.
The day was so beautiful, bright sunshine and hardly a cloud to mar the bright blue sky. The flowers were blooming a riot of beautiful, rich colours and the birds were singing their sweet melodies.
None of it touched Lucy’s heart though. To her, the world felt as barren as an icy wasteland and as much as she wanted to feel the warmth of the sun on her skin and be charmed by the birdsong, she knew that such things couldn’t touch her heart at the moment.
Abruptly she turned away from the window and found her sketch book. Keeping her back to the window, she began to let her pain out onto the page, drawing the baby that she would never have, Max and Marie in passionate embraces, their illegitimate children in their arms as they smiled at each other. Then she drew only Max, his features as handsome as ever but distorted slightly, to make him look demonic and evil.
She knew that she wasn’t being fair to him but at least this way, she could release some of her feelings, without ever needing to tell anyone how foolish she had been.
Chapter Nine
Having decamped to her Canterbury estate, Lucy was anticipating the arrival of May, with equal parts dread and pleasure. May was Max’s younger sister, just six months younger than Lucy and probably Lucy’s best female friend in the world.
Unfortunately, May was something of a dreamer. She had believed Max to be in love with Lucy when they were younger, and had almost convinced Lucy of it too. Of course nothing ever came of it and Lucy didn’t want a repeat of those platitudes, not when she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that May was wrong.
After her marriage, May spent most of the year in the Scottish highlands since she had married a Scott’s Laird. They wrote regularly and of course, May had written often once she had heard of Lucy’s miscarriage. Lucy was only able to skim her letters though, for fear of reading anything that might once again ignite those foolish dreams. She would have visited but Lucy told her not to. May had two children under three and Scotland was a very long way away. May had been insistent though and so they had compromised; May would come to stay with them once they returned to the country and spend two or three months, which would make the long journey worthwhile.
Her husband, Donald would join her sometimes but he also had business in London to attend to, so she and Lucy would have a lot of time to catch up, as long as May kept her foolishness to herself.
May and Donald arrived in the late afternoon and as well as the four of them, they brought May’s lady’s maid, a nanny, a wet nurse, as well as Donald’s valet and secretary, all of which required two carriages, and enough trunks to make Lucy believe that they could be staying permanently.
She was wary of seeing the children, especially the youngest, who was just six months old but as May climbed down from the carriage with the babe in arms, Lucy couldn’t help but love him, despite the painful reminders he brought of the child she had lost. She embraced her sister-in-law then took the baby from her, cradling him in her arms as if he were her own and May gave her a relieved smile.
May took after her mother and brother in colouring, as did all the Starks, but her features were a mixture of both parents, not quite as delicate as her mother but not strong, like the men of her family either. The mix worked well and May was considered a great beauty, having had many suitors before she decided on Donald.
Donald looked nothing like his wife, having a more traditional Scottish appearance. His curly hair was a very light red, almost strawberry blonde and although he was beginning to thicken slightly around the middle now that he was happily married, he hadn’t let himself go completely.
After a wash and rest, they joined Max and Lucy for dinner. Lucy could tell that May knew something was very wrong between her brother and her friend, but she was well-bred enough not to enquire about it over dinner. Instead she simply observed them that evening, leaving the majority of the conversation to Donald and Max as she did so.
Only after her husband had left for London two days later, did she suggest a private walk in the gardens with the children. May held hand of the oldest child, Sophie, while Lucy cradled baby James.
Lucy thought that May was a dreamer but she was actually far more insightful in many ways than her friend, and she knew that people were more willing to open up around babies than around adults. There was just something about the innocent, wriggling creatures that helped to open peoples’ hearts.
“So, I notice that you and Max hardly seem to be on speaking terms,” May began, sitting on a stone bench and releasing Sophie’s hand, so she could look around the bright garden.
“We talk!” Lucy defended, settling the baby in her arms as she sat, since his eyes looked to be growing heavy.
“You almost looked nauseous when he kissed your cheek yesterday evening.”
“Let’s just say, he’s not the man that I thought he was.”
“But you’ve known him since you were children.”
“He was sixteen, hardly a child.”
“Lucy, please, tell me what pains you so? I can’t bear to see you like this, so cold and unfeeling.”
“I'm not unfeeling,” Lucy said, bowing her head as her tears fell. “I rather feel too much for Max, which is the problem.”
“I don’t understand.”
“No, you don’t.” Lucy agreed.
May left her to get herself under control and didn’t press for more information. She knew her friend well enough to know that she would open up in her own time, or not at all.
Lucy kept her eyes focused on little James’ sleeping face and began her tale only when her tears had stopped.
“The day I lost the baby, I received a note from your father, requesting my presence urgently at a London address. I realise now that it must have been from Max’s mistress but I was too worried…” She remembered that May didn’t know the state of her father’s health either, “…by the urgency of the note, to think clearly.”
She took another break, breathing deeply to hold her tears at bay.
“When I got there, the door was ajar and before I could knock, I heard her and Max in conversation. They were arguing and he was telling her that he only married me for my money, position and faultless reputation. Then he told her how much he loved her and asked her to understand that he couldn’t marry a woman like her, even if they did have children together.”
May’s mouth had dropped open in shock.
“I fled from their words without making my presence known but my vision was blurred. I tripped and lost my footing, falling down a flight of stairs. That’s why I lost the baby.”
“Oh, my darling.” May put her arms around her friend and pulled her close, causing Lucy to begin crying in earnest, though she tried not to disturb the baby. “I’m so sorry.”
May didn’t know what was going on but she was certain that Max wouldn’t behave like that. He loved Lucy, she would bet her childrens’ lives on that fact, and no matter how forced this marriage had been, she was also sure that there were no two people more suited for each other than Max and Lucy. Yes, they had their differences as well as their similarities, but those differences compensated for weaknesses in the other.
Lucy was responsible, while Max tended to flee from it.
Max knew how to have fun, while Lucy tended to prefer being shy and demure.
They both had a temper and weren’t afraid to ‘tell the other their fortune’ if necessary.
And they both loved each other so deeply that it frightened them.
When Lucy’s tears had dried, May tried some gentle probing.
“How do you know he was talking with his mistress?” She asked kindly. Right now she was hoping that he had been talking to his mother, or perhaps Maude or Madeline, their other sisters.
“She came to see me at the orphanage before the wedding, under the guise of making a donation. I recognised her perfume as one I’d smelled on Max many times before.”
“But surely you couldn’t recognise her from her voice alone, after only one meeting?”
“She has the worst French accent in all of England; I’d know that voice anywhere.”
May was out of excuses. “I take it you haven’t spoken with Max about this?”
“No. This is my fault, May. I allowed myself to fall love with him-“
“We can’t help who we fall in love with,” she cut Lucy off.
“Then I allowed myself to marry him,” Lucy continued, “knowing full well that he didn’t feel the same. And then I deluded myself into believing that we could be happy, that he might come to love me the same way I love him.” She sighed. “I can’t help being angry though, no matter how unjustified and if I tell him anything about what happened that day, I might just end up killing him.”
“So you do still love him?”
Lucy looked at her friend for the first time since this conversation began.
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t care how many mistresses he has.”
“I’m sure there must be an explanation,” May insisted. “I have known my brother since childhood, well, since he was three to be exact, and I know he isn’t like that.”
“Like what? The type of man who sleeps with many different women? We both know that isn’t true.”
May wanted to scream that he only did that, because he was frustrated that Lucy wouldn’t love him as he loved her.
For two people who had always been as close as Max and Lucy were, they certainly were stupid sometimes.
“You can’t tell Max,” Lucy implored. “He would just try to weasel out of it, and I really don’t want to get blood on my rugs.”
May smiled, amazed at her friend’s resilience and that she could joke after all she had been through.
“Very well.”
“You swear?”
“I swear,” May answered, making a cross over her heart with her left hand, and keeping the crossed fingers of her right hand, safely hidden behind her back.
They sat in silence for a few moments, watching Sophie as she picked some daisies from the otherwise flawless lawn.
“If you ever find yourselves short of money, I'm sure our garden could use Sophie’s services. He is always bemoaning how quickly the daisies come up.”
May smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“So what happens now?” May asked.
Lucy’s smile faded too. “I will learn to forgive him for not loving me, I always have in the past, then we will carry on as we used to, as friends. He will get his heir one day, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m not, I'm worried about you. Both of you actually. You look as though you haven’t had a good meal in months, and Max looks as if he hasn’t slept in weeks.”
“I'm sorry if my distance is hurting him but I need it to survive right now, May.”
“I know.” She smiled. “How about if we continue this walk and try to think of happier topics?”
Lucy nodded and carefully got to her feet, so as not to wake the baby.
“Why don’t you tell me about this little man,” Lucy suggested.
“Oh, I could talk all week about that,” May grinned.
***
May returned to her suite of rooms for an hour, just in case Lucy was keeping an eye on her, then she went in search of Max. She found him in the study, looking out into the gardens. He didn’t turn as she entered,
so she marched up to him and cuffed him around the back of the head, none too gently.
“Hey, what was that for?” he turned to her, looking confused. May adored him, and he her, so this was thoroughly out of character for her
“For being the biggest idiot in all of England!” She was steaming mad. “How could you have a mistress, Max? I thought you loved Lucy?”
“What? I don’t have a mistress?”
“Really? Then who was the woman with the bad French accent that Lucy heard you professing love for, the day she lost the baby?”
“The… what?”
“That little conversation is the reason she lost the baby, Max. She was so upset that she tripped and fell down the stairs on her way out. And do you know what the silliest thing is? She blames herself for loving you so much, when she should lay the blame firmly on your stupid, idiotic, adulterous arse!”
The last four words were accompanied by punches to his bicep. Finally she seemed to have run out of words and she watched as the colour drained from his face. Seconds later the strength seemed to leave him too and he collapsed into the closest chair.
“Oh, God,” he uttered, looking stricken.
“So it’s true?” May felt tears prick her eyes. She hadn’t disbelieved Lucy but at the same time, she had always idolised her eldest brother.
“No!” he answered, with such vehemence that her heart swelled with hope, that maybe this could all come good in the end
“I think you’d better start at the beginning,” May said.
Max wiped a hand over his face, as if washing without water. He had dark circles under his eyes, as though he hadn’t slept in weeks.
“She was my mistress,” he admitted, “but I swear on our mother’s life that I haven’t slept with her since the wedding.”
The Convenient Bride Page 8
