The Fall of a Saint

by Christine Merrill

  Michael paused at the last door before his room, remembering the sly smiles of the women he’d seen leaving this wing, the sudden raucous laughter, smothered whispers and the cries of delight. It had been a stark contrast to the dead silence of his mother’s side of the house and the equally silent nursery wing.

  When he had been old enough to understand, he’d sworn that his life would never come to this. His behaviour would be exemplary. His marriage would be one of mutual respect. His family would be large and happy.

  He had failed. For all the trying to be otherwise, he was his father’s son. He went into his father’s room, slammed the door and rang for brandy.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘But, your Grace, it is so lovely that it would be a shame not to try it.’

  Maddie glanced at herself in the mirror, shocked at her appearance. Perhaps there was something in the air of this building that changed one to suit the surroundings. If so, they must open the windows and clear the miasma away. She had gone to sleep in a bedroom suited to a harem. Now her maid was trying to force her into a day dress suitable for a sultan’s captive.

  ‘Surely there must be something more practical that would serve.’ The ladies she had seen in dishabille at the houses where she’d worked had been far more sensible in their dress. And likely they had been warmer. They’d had the sense to keep their bosoms covered. This confection of ruffles and muslin barely covered hers.

  ‘But it is so very French, your Grace. And you look lovely in it.’

  ‘It does not fit,’ she argued. Had it been so terribly low when she’d tried it at the modiste’s? Or was it just the pregnancy that had increased what the bodice was supposed to hide? Her breasts seemed to float on a tide of lace, ready to bob to the surface at any moment.

  ‘Do not tug on it, your Grace. You will tear the trim. That is how it is meant to look.’

  ‘I seriously doubt so.’ In the mirror, she could see the tops of her nipples peeking over the edge of the neckline. The fabric under it was so sheer that even with lining it hid nothing. But to put on stays and petticoat rather defeated the purpose of dressing for morning comfort.

  ‘Perhaps just a touch of rouge,’ the maid suggested, glancing at her décolletage.

  Maddie did not need rouge to create a flush in her nipples or anywhere else. The idea was completely scandalous and the blush it created was natural.

  ‘It is only to take chocolate in the salon,’ her maid prompted. ‘No one need ever see.’

  She wanted to argue that that alone was reason not to bother with it. But the sumptuousness of her surroundings seemed to call for such behaviour. The memory of the satin coverlet against her cheek and the ridiculously large bed that practically screamed to be sported in...

  This was the true danger of her long-ago fall from grace. She knew too much about such things. Although the memory of Richard grew dimmer with each passing day, the sight of her husband’s bare flank was etched for ever in memory. She could imagine running her hand along that flesh, the way he might respond to it and the feelings of pleasure that would arise in her to see him aroused.

  The room felt unaccountably hot as she thought of it.

  The past two weeks had been spent in a panicked rush towards the performance of wedding and breakfast. This morning would be the first uninterrupted quiet she’d had in ages. But that did not mean that she must sit barely dressed on a satin cushion, thinking scandalous thoughts about St Aldric’s legs. It would have been more in character to find a book and a quiet spot to enjoy it in.

  But that would have required roaming this museum of a house for a library. If the ground floor was anything like the bedrooms, there was no telling what disasters might await her. With its maze of connected rooms, her wing seemed designed to separate her from the rest of the world. Was she to be a prisoner here? Was it a punishment? Or did he truly think that such total privacy was either necessary or welcome?

  It was quite beyond comprehension until after some sort of breakfast. She gave up with an exasperated sigh. ‘Very well, then. I shall wear the gown. But no rouge,’ she said hurriedly. ‘And I will keep my wrapper handy, should I take a chill. Bring chocolate and some toast. And an egg or two.’ She thought again. ‘And some of the condiment that St Aldric recommended.’ If nothing else, she must thank the man for the return of her appetite.

  ‘Hallo,’ a feminine voice called from the next room. ‘Is her Grace receiving?’

  ‘Evelyn?’ She reached for her robe, but it was too late. The midwife had already entered.

  ‘So this is where you are hiding.’ Mrs Hastings poked her smiling head through the connecting doorway of the first guest suite. ‘I am unannounced. And for that, I am sorry. Sam is talking with Michael on the opposite side of the house. But they deemed it inappropriate to entertain me in the duke’s bedchamber. So I came to seek you out.’

  ‘And I am deporting myself half-naked, like the Queen of Sheba,’ Maddie said glumly.

  ‘In this environment, one can hardly blame you,’ Evelyn said with sympathy. ‘If it helps you to know it, the downstairs is quite normal.’

  ‘That is a relief. I had not seen it yet and feared the worst. When we arrived, St Aldric escorted me directly to this wing and abandoned me.’

  Eve glanced around her at the opulent hangings. ‘It is rather much, is it not? The dowager had passed long before my visit to Aldricshire. Michael took me no farther than the dower house and the receiving rooms downstairs. But if this room is any indication, his mother must have been quite colourful.’

  ‘That is a charitable description at best.’

  Evelyn admired her costume. ‘And I must say that your current attire suits the room well. It is very...’

  ‘Wanton?’ Maddie asked, staring down at her own breasts.

  ‘I was going to say feminine,’ Evelyn supplied.

  ‘I look like a Cyprian,’ she said, tugging at her bodice again.

  ‘I have seen more shocking sights in London, I am sure. It is a very pretty gown. In the privacy of your own home, it will do no harm. And Michael will find it most fetching.’

  Michael again. Though Maddie could not manage it, Evelyn had no trouble calling the duke by his Christian name. Michael had brought Evelyn to Aldricshire. And apparently, it had been without her husband. It all sounded very cosy.

  ‘I do not care if my husband appreciates the style,’ Maddie said, annoyed. ‘He will not find me on a recamier with my gown half falling off.’

  Evelyn came to sit at her side and took her hand. ‘I did not mean to tease you so. You may change if you like. But I think you are lovely, just as you are.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said with relief. ‘But the room is terrible, is it not? I think it is affecting my mood.’

  Evelyn nodded in sympathy.

  ‘And you say you have been here before?’ She paused for a moment to give Eve a chance to correct her understanding, and added, ‘With your husband, of course. He must know the estate well.’

  Evelyn paused. ‘Actually, he has never seen the place. Nor did he meet his father.’ She paused again. ‘How much has Michael told you of our history together?’

  There was the name again. And the implication that this woman knew much more about her husband than she did herself. Did he mean to keep secrets from her? Or had he not thought it worth the effort to share them? ‘Absolutely nothing,’ Maddie admitted at last. Then she added, ‘You know much more of my past than I do of yours.’ Not that there was likely to be anything exceptionable about Evelyn. She seemed the epitome of social grace and decorum.

  But Evelyn sighed as though relieved to unburden herself. ‘It was not too many months ago that we all assumed I would be the Duchess of St Aldric. I was engaged to Michael. For less than a week,’ she added hurriedly. ‘But we courted for most of the Season and there w
as an expectation.’

  How horrible. ‘And then he...’

  Evelyn laughed. ‘No, darling. It had nothing to do with you at all.’ She sobered and said, in a small voice, ‘But I fear that I might have had some part in what occurred in Dover. It was after the broken engagement, you see, that Michael ran amok. It was the illness as well, of course. But it was also about that time that I chose his brother instead of him. And though he claimed that he was not bothered, I worried.’

  ‘Because you had affection for him?’

  ‘As a brother. Nothing more than that.’ Evelyn looked relieved to be able to tell the story. ‘There was never anyone for me but Sam. I have known him for as long as I can remember and loved him almost as long. But he was far from London and had never met Michael. And when I did...’ She gave a helpless shrug and smiled. ‘You must see the resemblance. I had to bring the two together. So I cultivated Michael’s interest, persuaded Sam to return to London, the two of them were introduced and learned the truth....’ She shrugged again. ‘It was all a bit of a muddle, for a time. But things worked out for the best. We are quite happy now. And you will be, as well. Despite his behaviour when you met him, Michael truly is a saint amongst men, though he hates to admit. He will be a wonderful father and a husband, as well.’

  ‘And now we are all in Aldricshire together,’ Maddie added. Once again, she was the interloper, just as she had been in London.

  ‘Sam is the duke’s personal physician,’ Eve explained. ‘Not that his services are required, of course. Michael is as healthy as an ox. But we will admit to some curiosity about the house and grounds. Sam knows practically nothing of his father. And Michael rarely speaks of his childhood and visits the house even less so.’ Evelyn smiled and laid a finger on the side of her nose. ‘So I proclaimed it my professional opinion that you could not possibly manage without a midwife, so that we might use your strategic retreat to the country to investigate. I hope you do not mind.’

  It was too late to object, even if she did. ‘Of course not. But I know little about the place myself and I am not sure where best to put you.’

  ‘It is all arranged,’ Evelyn assured her. ‘Michael suggested the dower house and it is quite suitable for our needs. It is small and utterly charming, tastefully decorated and far enough away so that you might have the privacy you need.’

  Evelyn seemed to imagine a happy honeymoon already in progress. It was just another sign of the woman’s optimism. ‘We have too much privacy already. This whole wing is mine to command. The duke has space of his own on the opposite side of the house.’

  By the worried look on Evelyn’s face, the arrangement was as odd as it appeared. ‘The estrangement between the last duke and duchess must have been more deep than Michael let on. Sam was born shortly after Michael. The duke never acknowledged him. The duchess was upset. This—’ she waved a hand to encompass the house ’—must have been the result.’

  And now the new duke had married a near stranger who had requested a divide between them as deep or deeper than any his parents had known. The experience must be quite painful for him.

  But had that not been the object all along? If she meant to hurt him, she had succeeded in making him come here. But strangely, there was no joy in it.

  ‘It must have been difficult for him,’ Maddie said cautiously. ‘He does not seem to like the place at all. If mine are any indication, I cannot imagine what his rooms must look like.’

  ‘So Michael is sequestered on the other side of the house and you have not seen his rooms?’ Eve raised her eyebrows.

  ‘We have only just arrived,’ Maddie said hurriedly, not wanting the situation to sound any more unusual than it already was.

  ‘Well, I am aflame with curiosity. I will torment Sam mercilessly until he has uncovered every last detail. Then I shall share them with you.’

  ‘Please, don’t.’ Even in war, there must be some rules. And if anything were hallowed ground, it should be childhood.

  ‘It is all right, I am sure,’ Evelyn announced, paying no attention. ‘If he thought to marry me, he must have known that I would learn all his secrets.’

  ‘As if I could manage to keep anything from you, Evelyn. You are a terrible nuisance and I am lucky to be rid of you.’ The duke entered, his tone affectionate and his attention focused on his former fiancée.

  Then he froze in the doorway, shocked to immobility. He was staring at Maddie, half-clothed and reclining, just as she had feared he would. His gaze was riveted to the neckline of her gown and the non-existent coverage it provided her modesty. His blue eyes were practically black. His breathing was slow, deep and, without thinking, hers slowed to match it. The air between them seemed to crackle with tension. Her nipples tightened as though presenting themselves to be kissed.

  Deep inside, she felt a trembling, like the rush of water, and the growing desire to relax into it, lean back onto the chaise and show him that the skirt was as thin as the bodice. The muslin would caress her legs and reveal their curves to him. And he would smile and send Evelyn away.

  Beside her, she heard Evelyn giggle. Then the duke broke his gaze and turned to speak to someone in the hall behind him.

  Sam Hastings. Evelyn would not be laughing if her own husband entered the room to find her in this condition. The man was a physician. But that did not mean she wished to be displayed before him like an anatomy lesson. Maddie grabbed for the blue wool wrapper and shrugged into it, pulling it tight over breasts and thighs to hide her shame.

  ‘And here you both are at last,’ Evelyn said, ignoring her scramble for decency. ‘Michael, you must take us all through the public rooms. The tour you gave me last year was most interesting. Maddie must be eager to see her new home.’

  ‘I am sure she is,’ St Aldric said. He was staring carefully into her eyes, as though the interlude a moment ago had never happened.

  ‘Well, she must not set out without a guide,’ Sam announced, entering the room, oblivious to what had just occurred. ‘If the rest of the house is as confusing as this wing, we shan’t see her again if we leave her to find her own way.’

  ‘I am sure she will be fine. Now, come along, the pair of you.’ Eve rose and took them both by the arms. ‘Take me to the breakfast room, for I am simply famished. Maddie will meet us there directly, when she has dressed.’

  As they left, Peg appeared with the forgotten eggs and toast.

  Maddie waved it away. ‘It seems we are breakfasting below, with the Hastings. Find me a gown I can wear without creating a scandal. Then, for God’s sake, find me someone who can show me to the breakfast room.’

  * * *

  After they had eaten, Michael led the little group through the ground floor, reciting what he knew of art and architecture by rote and watching their reactions. They were properly impressed. Madeline, particularly, was in awe. Her soft lips parted in a continual ‘oh’ of surprise. It was a pity that she had changed the gown, for the thought of those perfect breasts rising and falling with each ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ would have been a beautiful sight.

  The appearance of her, careless of her beauty and displayed for him like an Aphrodite in that horrible salon, would cause him many restless nights, he was sure. Judging by the dress she had chosen to replace it, overly heavy, overly drab and covering her practically to the chin, there would be no repeat appearance of the goddess once the guests had gone. It was a pity. For all their difficulties, he could not deny that she was the most human thing in this mausoleum he had inherited and the most beautiful.

  For now he contented himself with casting sidelong glances at her and watching her amazement at each new glory: inlaid floors, carpets as thick as fur upon them, white marble fireplaces scrubbed so clean they might never have held an ash, crystal, china and gold. At least there was something she admired about him. If she had meant to spend his purse to empty, she must see
how impossible that would be. Mother had tried it upon Father, without success. Madeline would have no better luck with him.

  * * *

  The supper that cook prepared for them was a fitting ending to the day: the best food on the thinnest plates, with the heaviest knives and the whitest linen. And, as he had requested, a tureen of Wow-Wow sauce. Cook had been quietly horrified, thinking it was a reflection on her seasoning. Then he’d made it clear that it was for the duchess, whose digestion, of late, had been delicate. Cook had smiled knowingly and prepared the sauce.

  There would be gossip below stairs. But for a change, it would be happy gossip.

  Tonight, Evelyn was making enough conversation for the four of them. Michael sometimes found her outspoken nature more annoying than endearing. But it was better than the uneasy silence that he’d have had to endure, had he eaten alone with Madeline.

  ‘I am sure Maddie particularly enjoyed the music room,’ Evelyn announced.

  ‘Of course,’ he said, wondering if his wife had some talent in that area. He ventured a guess at what might have caught her fancy. ‘The harp is particularly lovely. It has been in the family for three generations.’

  ‘The school did not have a harp,’ Eve informed him. ‘But she is quite proficient on the pianoforte.’

  Madeline remained silent.

  Was this meant as some sort of hint as to her past? ‘You taught it, at this school?’ he offered.

  ‘I took lessons,’ Madeline replied, still looking down at her plate. ‘When I was a student. Before taking work as a governess.’

  The conversation was faltering and Evelyn rushed to rescue it. ‘It is a shame that the Colvers could not come to the wedding breakfast. I am sure they would have been most proud to see you so well settled.’