by Cari Hislop
She could only hope the light was so bright he couldn’t see her blushing. “I fear you need spectacles your Grace.”
“I only need spectacles for reading. I can see you quite clearly.”
“Your eyes must be under a spell to see plain women as beauties.”
“If my eyes are under a spell, I pray it never ends.” There was a long pause as he looked away as if to study the wallpaper before returning to look at her, as if testing her theory. “I wished to call and thank you for acknowledging me at the ball. Your good opinion appears to carry great weight. Several people actually bowed to me as I left.”
“Perhaps seeing I survived our conversation unscathed persuaded them to give your rumoured reputation the benefit of the doubt?”
Cynical amusement faded from his eyes leaving them cold and hopeless. “My reputation Madam is well deserved. This interview will probably ruin you.” He blinked in shock as if horrified by his own impudence. “I mean, it will give people reason to think…ill of you.”
“There’s always more than one perspective my Lord. “What will your hellish friends think when they hear you’ve been visiting the plain Mrs Spencer who attends church every Sunday? They might think you’ve started taking communion. The next thing you know they’ll be jeering at you, calling you the Parson’s favourite parishioner. This interview may ruin your image as a heartless rake-hell.”
Blood red lips twisted into an amused smile. “You’re an angel!”
She shook her head. “No more angelic than the next woman.”
“I can’t imagine you breaking any of the Ten Commandments.”
“I must disappoint you; I’ve always found number five rather trying.”
“Which one is that?”
“Honour thy Father and thy Mother…”
“That’s one of the ten I don’t practice. My parents deserve no honour.”
“Mine don’t qualify for the honour either. My sisters and I have always been viewed as inconvenient investments. Mr Spencer paid twenty-thousand pounds to own me.”
“They sold you for a measly twenty thousand?”
“Measley? Twenty-thousand pounds for a plain woman? It was a fortune and when he realised I’d never love him, Mr Spencer resented every single pound. I don’t understand how anyone could purchase a spouse and then expect love and respect. Treating another human being like a dog or a table can never inspire respect. The slave will always resent being purchased. Why is that so hard for some people to understand?” Tolerance bent over and set her wriggling son on the floor. Watching her baby crawl in towards her guest she wondered if his outraged tone implied he would have paid more. Would it have been different to be purchased by the Devil’s Corpse? Her heart seemed to think so as it thumped her chest in longing. It was another silly thought. The man wasn’t going to offer for her; Dukes didn’t marry commoners unless they were beautiful or rich or both. “Alex, where’s your teething toy? Alex?” She rolled his toy after him, but the baby ignored her and pulled himself up on the sofa near her guest. “I wouldn’t relive the last year for anything, but it’s hard not to see my son and feel I’ve been blessed.
“Are you an eternal optimist Mrs Spencer?”
“I suppose; my glass is always half-full. You can either see what you don’t have or be grateful for what you do have. Life is often cruel, but it’s also often kind and good when you least expect it. Mr Spencer was a hateful man, but a year as his…wife, gave me my son and freedom.”
“But what if the glass is full of rancid milk?”
“Then one pours out the contents of the glass, washes it, and refills it with something more palatable.”
“Why is he waving his arms like that? Does he want me to leave?”
“No, Alex wants you to pick him up.”
The rake-hell looked aghast. “I couldn’t, I might break him.”
“Put your hands firmly under his arms and stand him on your knees. He likes being bounced up and down, but I can only do it a few times before my arms feel like they’re being torn off. I’m sure he gets fatter by the hour.” She shook with silent laughter as the Duke of Lyndhurst looked back and forth between her and the baby with open consternation. Alex decided the situation by grabbing the duke’s garter ribbon holding up his silk stockings and untying the bow so he could put the ribbon into his mouth. The man gently tugged at the ribbon getting a howl of rage for his pain. He quickly put his hands around the child and lifted him up successfully distracting the small person from the wet bedraggled ribbon.
“He’s heavier than he looks.”
“Yes, he’s quite a pig.” The proud mother sat back and watched the Duke of Lyndhurst slowly relax as her baby screamed with delight. What was it about the man that made her feel safe? He didn’t look safe. With bright sunshine filling the room she could clearly see the dark circles around his sad hollow eyes and the unhealthy yellow tinge to his pale skin. The man needed to eat. If she ordered refreshments there was a chance he might stay longer.
Chapter 4
Geoffrey’s aching arms felt like they were going to ripped from his shoulders as he bounced the laughing baby up and down, but he ignored the burning pain as he watched the mother out of the corner of his eyes. What was she saying to the servants? He’d already outstayed the acceptable length of time for a social call from a stranger, but he didn’t want to leave. The house smelled clean and cheerful. He watched with anxiety as she turned back into the room, but she didn’t return to her seat. She walked over to his settee and sat down beside him as if she felt safe in his presence. She looked completely relaxed as she smiled at his efforts to charm her infant. He couldn’t remember the last person who sat next to him without fear in their eyes. His arms were suddenly aching with the need to put down the baby and to pull the mother close, but he couldn’t. If he gave in…the thought of being banished from her presence pumped chilled blood through his heart.
“Are your arms aching?”
“No.”
“Liar!” She reached over and lugged her baby off his knees and set him back down on the floor where he howled in rage until he saw the dangling wet ribbon and shoved it back in his mouth. “Will you stay and take tea? My housekeeper made scones this morning.”
He blinked in stunned disbelief. “It would be a pleasure.”
“Good, because I think Alex has become attached to you. You may have to abandon your garter or I’ll have no peace.”
Geoffrey looked down to see the baby happily chewing on the red ribbon. “I can’t imagine that tastes very good.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Oh?” One of his black eyebrows rose in query.
“Don’t laugh, but when I was a girl my favourite game was to suck on a magic red ribbon and then rub it over my lips and cheeks to make me beautiful.”
“And what did you do in fairyland with painted cheeks?”
“I went to a ball of course where a handsome old fashioned wigged gentleman in an embroidered jacket and waistcoat with satin breeches and buckled shoes would ask me to dance a cotillion after being affected by my new found beauty. You’re not supposed to laugh.”
“You don’t need a magic ribbon Mrs Spencer.”
Her sudden bashful smile made him feel like he’d conquered the world. “It’s very kind of you to say so Your Grace, but I do own several good mirrors. I know what I look like.”
“No, you don’t.” She glanced at him as if she hoped he wasn’t merely being kind and then turned away to direct the butler setting down a small table for the footman’s heavy tray.
“The ribbon your requested Madam.” She accepted the long pink ribbon and laid it on her lap.
“Thank you Jenkins, that will be all for the moment. Please leave the door open.” Her hands were visibly shaking as she cut the scone and slathered both halves with clotted cream and strawberry preserves. She barely glanced at him as he took the offered plate and turned to make one for herself. Holding her plate in one hand she seemed lost in the ta
ste until she suddenly glanced in his direction and burst out laughing.
“What?”
“You have clotted cream on your cheek.”
“I’m not the only one with cream on my face.”
“Oh, trust me to make a mess…” She reached for a serviette and quickly wiped her mouth.
“Look at me.” She obediently turned and stared into his eyes as if he were some dashing young soldier. “Hold still.” Wiping the cream off the tip of her nose he licked his finger and smiled as she blushed again and turned away to look at her child. Holding his breath, he prayed she’d look at him again. As if she could hear his thoughts her eyes glanced up at him causing the blood to gush through his veins demanding more. Holding her eye he reached out again to gently wipe another glob of cream off her cheek, but the sight of his pale skeletal finger caressing living flesh made his heart sink in despair. She wouldn’t want to bed a man who looked like he belonged in a mausoleum.
“Thank you…” She touched her cheek as if his caress had caused pleasure. “…is there any more cream on my face?”
His eyes trailed over her face searching for another excuse to touch her. “Unfortunately not…”
“Oh…good…” The words were tinged with disappointment. “…I had the maid bring one of my ribbons to replace the one my son has chewed. If you’ll allow me to remove my impertinent child and his new toy…Alex, let go of His Lordship’s ribbon so I can untie it.” The tiny creature wailed in fury as the ribbon was tugged from his mouth and unwound from Geoffrey’s leg. He held his breath as she bent over him affording an unwitting view of her charms. Geoffrey gulped down the hunger as kind fingers hovered near his knee, untying his garter and handing it to her child who was immediately placated as if it had never left his mouth. The angel then rose and knelt in front of him and proceeded to reverently tie a pink ribbon around his leg as if she were paying homage to a prince. Her head leaned closer as she finished tying the bow, but she shook her head and tried again. Geoffrey clenched his teeth as her fingers brushed against his leg causing jolts of pleasure. Ignoring the impulse to pull her into his arms, he was trying to memorise the sight of her bent over his knee when the footman came in with the silver tray holding another card.
“Lady Sophia Grayson wishes to know if you are receiving Madam.”
Geoffrey silently cursed his sister to hell as the angel briefly turned away from his garter to glance at the footman. “Yes of course Jenkins; please bring us a few more scones.”
“Very good Madam.”
She returned to retying his garter for the second time, but her hands were shaking. Was he making her nervous or was she affected by his nearness? It was silly to believe the latter. It was more likely she was coming down with the flu. “Forgive me my Lord; I’m all thumbs today.” She was retying the bow a the third time when Lady Sophia sailed in and froze with horror.
“Mrs Spencer…what are you doing?”
“Tying a garter…”
“Around the devil’s leg?”
“Your brother is not the Devil.” Geoffrey’s growing anger eased at the kind rebuke. “There! I think that bow will remain tied. I wouldn’t want you to lose your stocking half way home; people would laugh at you and it would be all my fault.” Geoffrey bit his tongue as the angel smiled at him as she struggled to her feet. He was determined not to lose his temper in front of the angel. He didn’t want her to know that he really was a heartless fiend. “Will you eat a scone Lady Sophia?”
“I need to speak with you in private.” Lady Sophia scowled at her brother making it clear she wanted him to leave.
“Are you sure you can’t speak in front of your brother?” Mrs Spencer’s words allowed Geoffrey to return his sister’s contempt with a triumphant smirk.
“The Duchess said Lyndhurst asked about you last night. He wanted to know where you lived and if you had a chaperone, but she refused to tell him. I came to warn you that he intends to ruin you. Look at him; he doesn’t resemble a corpse because he’s attended too many funerals. The man is depraved, a worthless rake-hell who hasn’t a decent bone in his dead looking body.” Geoffrey clenched his fists in despair as he stood to take his leave. The angel wouldn’t want anything to do with him after hearing a list his sins. He knew he didn’t deserve a few crumbs of happiness, but he needed them. He needed the kind woman in his arms smiling at him.
“Lady Sophia, your brother may not be a saint, but…”
“List the most vile things one man can do to another human being and he’ll have done them all. Look at him! He doesn’t dare deny it.” Geoffrey could feel the angel’s eyes turn to look at him, but he could only stare at his sister with hatred for ruining his small taste of heaven. “He wouldn’t want to deny it. Who would he be if he wasn’t The Devil’s Corpse? The man couldn’t perform the smallest act of kindness without making it sordid. How could you even consider receiving him? Do you wish to be ruined? Your servants will be sure to spread the word that the good Widow Spencer received Him and you’ll share his fate. Your reputation as a virtuous woman is as good as damned. That’s a high price. I never thought you one of those women who’d do anything to be a Duchess.”
Geoffrey audibly sucked in his breath as his temper boiled over, “Mrs Spencer was being kind you hateful little…” He was abruptly silenced by a gentle hand on his arm.
“I find it comforting to know the entire Grayson family is concerned for my reputation, however, I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of. If I find your brother’s company pleasant, don’t you think that might mean he isn’t as wicked or evil as people think him? Can’t we give him a chance to prove he’s something more than his past mistakes?”
“Your tolerance will be your downfall. If you prefer the stench of social death…you may have his company and be damned.” Lady Sophia sneered at her brother, turned on her heel and marched from the room with her head held high.
Geoffrey’s heart convulsed as dark clouds rolled off the horizon nearly suffocating the angel’s sunshine. “Forgive me for calling on you, I…” His knees trembled with the desire to bend and allow him from the floor to beg her to be his friend, if only in secret, but Graysons didn’t beg. “…I’ll not bother you again Mrs Spencer.” Geoffrey could already smell gun powder. Bowing low, he turned away denying himself a last glance of happiness.
“My Lord, I’m glad you called.” Stopping, out of the corner of his eyes he could see a feminine hand extended. Slowly turning back he stared in disbelief from the small hand into determined eyes.
“Mrs Spencer…”
“Tolerance! My friends call me Tolerance. It’s my Christian name.”
Geoffrey blinked unsure if he’d heard her right or if the large amount of brandy he’d imbibed for courage was causing him to hallucinate. “Forgive me Mrs Spencer, but did you just give me leave to be your friend?” He sighed in relief as the fear of rejection evaporated in the warmth of her smile.
“I hope you’ll call again soon.”
“Why?” His heart threatened to faint from the shock of asking the unaskable. He didn’t want to hear that she pitied him. He tried to cover his vulnerability with a sneering smile. “Did you spend your childhood dreaming of being a duchess?”
“You’re quite safe my Lord, I have no wish to remarry. As to why I hope you’ll be my friend; there’s just something about you. I feel like I’ve known you forever. Does that sound odd?”
“No.” Looking into her smiling eyes he wanted to tell her that he understood exactly what she meant, but he couldn’t. She might think it was a cheap blandishment to help him win an invitation to view her bed. He’d tell her once she was naked in his arms. Just because she didn’t want to remarry didn’t mean she wanted a celibate life. Her smile gave him hope that he wouldn’t have to wait long. Geoffrey reverently took her hand and pressed his lips to her skin for as long as he dared. “Tolerant angel, I will endeavour to deserve the honour of your friendship.” He briefly pressed his lips a second time to the back of her
hand and reluctantly let it go. With another formal bow he turned and fled before the temptation to pull her close destroyed any future happiness.
