by Emma Brady
Chapter 20
When Sinclair opened her eyes the next morning her head was pounding. The world seemed to be spinning beneath her as she tried to sit up in her bed. Looking down, she saw that she was still wearing the same clothing from last night. The dress clung to her in shreds and her corset was gone. As hard as she tried, things were blurry about how she got that way.
Her movements were slow as she tried to dress in a simple gray morning gown. A knock at the door was heard as she struggled with the buttons of her shoes. Grumbling, Sinclair refused to answer the obnoxious sound.
“My lady, I have something out here that might make you feel better,” Frederick said through the door.
“Thank goodness,” she sighed. “Come in quickly.”
With his usual quite grace, the butler entered her room with a large tray carrying two cups. Only one had steam rising from it. Sinclair eyed the other cup with suspicion. It smelled like a wet lawn and looked as appetizing.
“Is that what I think it is?” she winced as she turned her gaze to look at Frederick.
“My special mixture to make your head feel better, my lady.” He didn’t look amused but she knew he must be.
The smell coming from the gray liquid was pungent and made her nose scrunch, but Sinclair took a deep breath and forced it down. Frederick held out a steaming cup of coffee that washed away the disgusting taste.
“Does anybody besides you know the condition I’m in?” she asked.
“Charlotte is still sleeping, but Lucas asked me to bring this up.”
“After last night, I can only wonder what he thinks of me.”
“Did you behave badly?”
“I honestly can’t remember.”
He raised an eyebrow to indicate that maybe he knew something she didn’t, but he remained silent. Shrugging, Sinclair finished the cup of coffee in slow gulps, savoring the taste. Sinclair allowed him to leave, then began to do her hair. As a new wife she had a long list of things to do and no time to waste.
“I thought you were still asleep,” Sinclair said when she met Charlotte on her way out of the house.
“That obnoxious butler of yours woke me with a knock on the door and a reprimand.”
“He reprimanded you?”
Charlotte shot her a warning look that sent Sinclair into a fit of giggles. Years of experience had taught her that Frederick often stepped over the line of propriety, but in London it was seen as severe misbehavior.
“I’ll speak to him about his behavior,” she said, “It won’t happen again.”
“You may speak to him all you like, but I doubt it will do any good.”
“You think he is that unmanageable?”
“Yes.”
Sinclair knew Frederick could annoy a person, but she never saw anyone this ruffled by his actions. Charlotte’s face was pinched in a sour expression and her cheeks were bright red.
“He means well.” Sinclair felt bad that her friends were not getting along.
“That man thinks he has the right to boss people around, when he’s the servant.”
“That’s my fault. I’m afraid my parent’s always treated him as more than just an employee. He tries to behave, but sometimes he can’t help stepping out of bounds.”
Charlotte thought that over for a few minutes before giving a sigh. “I just wish he would keep a little more distance from me. Something about him makes me nervous and he’s your butler, not mine.”
It didn’t take long for the girls to arrive at the dressmakers. Charlotte had convinced Sinclair to order a few things while they were buying her gown from the night before. They now needed to be fitted, an activity Sinclair couldn’t stand. Resigned to her fate, Sinclair followed her friend into the ruffled interior of the shop.
“Lady Westmore, I have not gotten all your things finished yet, but I do have the things ready for your sister,” said the wiry dressmaker.
“That will be fine,” answered Sinclair, wishing she could remember the woman’s name, “I’m not feeling well, so I’ll enjoy sitting down.”
“You have a seat over there and I will have someone help Lady Charlotte into the first gown.”
Watching Charlotte being led off with a large grin on her face, Sinclair eased into a comfortable chair. She could barely sit quietly as she waited for Charlotte to exit the dressing room. When he young girl emerged, Sinclair sighed in contentment at the perfect picture of femininity.
“I think you should wear more pink.” Sinclair offered, “It would beautiful on you.”
“I prefer blues and greens.”
“You wear them too often, though. During my first season I tried to wear every color at least once.”
“They were the colors my mother always picked out for me.”
“She had wonderful taste, but you’re a young woman now. You should be able to pick your own wardrobe.”
Charlotte nodded in agreement while staring at her reflection in the mirror. The soft slate blue morning gown she wore needed to have the hem shortened for her tiny height, but otherwise looked lovely on her. A seamstress hurried to put pins in the gown as quickly as possible.
“Did you enjoy the festivities last night?” Sinclair asked her, while watching her in the reflection of the morning.
“The music was wonderful, but the company was lacking.” said Charlotte.
“No one caught your eye?”
Charlotte made a face in the mirror that made the seamstress giggle with pins in her mouth.
“Your brother is insistent on you finding a husband this season.”
“He will adjust to disappointment.”
Hiding the slight grin on her face behind the cup of week tea she was offered, Sinclair waited for Charlotte to change into another day gown, this one in a bright mint green. The color made the young girls eyes look like the color of the sea.
“Have you decided to never marry then?” Sinclair asked, worried about what the answer might be.
“I have decided to listen to your advice and wait to marry until I find a man who can offer me more than just money.”
“Are you certain?” It hadn’t been that long ago that Charlotte had considered marriage the definition of her life.
“I am not worried about being alone anymore.”
Sinclair looked at her skeptically but chose to keep quiet on the subject. She remembered the many times her mother had argued with her over the same topic, never swaying her opinion. It was best to just leave it alone until it worked itself out.
“We’ll just keep that information away from Lucas for now,” she said, “He has enough of a challenge dealing with me at the moment.”
“I agree. What he does not know will not irritate him.”
Sinclair gave the girl a nod of approval and Charlotte disappeared once more into the dressing room.
“That was a lovely shade of green your friend wore,” purred a sultry voice from the door.
When Sinclair looked up she was shocked by the fiery beauty standing framed in the sunlight. The woman had a voluptuous body tapered into a tiny waist and her thin skirt indicated long legs. Bright red curls were arranged on top of her head in an elegant array of color. A flawless face peered out from beneath the brim of her red hat.
“I always loved greens like that in the summer,” the woman continued as she took the only remaining seat in the shop, “It gives the impression of youth.”
“I look ill in such a color,” Sinclair said, not able to take her eyes away from the sultry woman and unsure why she would answer so honestly.
“With your complexion, I imagine blue is your color.”
She nodded her head in silence, stunned by the blinding smile the woman gave her. Sinclair wondered who this finely dressed woman was. She wore the clothes of a lady, but had the air of someone standing outside of society. Glancing at the shopkeeper, she saw that no one made eye contact with the lady in red.
“Have we met?” Sinclair asked hoping to find out the lady’s name.
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“No, I am not much for society.”
“I should introduce myself then, I’m...”
The woman pressed one finger to Sinclair’s lips, silencing her in mid-sentence. It surprised her that someone would do something so rude in public. The woman’s eyes narrowed to give Sinclair a steely glance that sent chills along her arms. Flashing a sharp smile, the woman released her hand slowly.
“I know who you are, Lady Westmore. Everyone knows you. The story of your marriage to the Earl of Westmore has become the tastiest bit of gossip this season.”
“My marriage is hardly worthy of such attention.” Sinclair wished that were true.
“You should be proud to have landed such a prestigious man.”
“You must not know my husband.”
The woman laughed, a deep husky sound.
“Since you know my name, may I have yours?” asked Sinclair.
“You will find out about me soon enough,” the woman said, standing to leave, “I just wanted to put a face to the name I heard so much about.”
With a sway to her hips, the woman walked slowly out of the little shop. Sinclair watched her go, silence clinging to the air. A whispered sound caught her attention and when she turned, she saw Charlotte peeking out from behind the dressing room door. Sighing, she motioned for the girl to come out.
“Is she gone?” asked Charlotte.
“Yes, thankfully.”
With timid steps Charlotte emerged in yet another dress to stand before the mirror. Her eyes kept drifting to look at Sinclair in the reflection. Suspicious about what the young woman might be thinking, Sinclair decided to be forward and ask.
“Do you know who that woman was?” Sinclair suspected her friend knew a great deal about the woman.
Charlotte shook her head vigorously but a visible lump was in her throat. The young girl was terrible at lying, something Sinclair was grateful for.
“Charlotte, do you know who that woman was?”
“I might have heard her name mentioned before.”
“Oh?”
She waited through the silence for Charlotte to crack and saw the exact moment when the girl gave up. Closing her eyes, Charlotte turned to face her. When she spoke, her voice was soft and quiet, barely loud enough for Sinclair to hear.
“The woman’s name is Marissa Bedeau. She is a French widow.”
“That would explain her peculiar dress. Widows are allowed more freedom than other women.”
“She has more than most.”
“Oh?”
“She is no longer accepted in society.”
“I hope she wasn’t cast out for wearing the wrong color.”
“No, she became known in society as being a popular mistress for men of the ton.”
Sinclair could feel her throat tighten as the pieces began to come together in her mind. Not wanting to believe her own thoughts, she asked the one question she was afraid to know.
“Is she currently the mistress of my husband?”
The look in Charlotte’s eye answered her before the words could form on her lips. The truth stabbed through her, knocking the wind from her lungs. She could feel her emotions threatening to get out of control, so with shaking steps she hurried to the door. Behind her she could hear Charlotte calling her name.
LUCAS HAD BEEN PACING the floor of his study all night. Earlier he had heard the ladies leaving and it only made him more nervous. Last night forced him to realize that his relationship with Sinclair wasn’t turning out to be as simple as he’d hoped. This woman was different from all the others he’d known; she had managed to get deep into his skin, soaking his mind.
In the afternoon a letter arrived. It was in a simple blank envelope, delivered by a small boy who disappeared after handing it to the maid. Lucas was stumped until he opened the envelope and pulled out the piece of paper it held. The strong scent of familiar perfume wafted into the air around him.
The letter was from Marissa, claiming she had urgent news to tell him. Her plea sounded sincere but Lucas suspected the sly woman was up to something. To take his mind off of his marriage, the earl decided a visit to his former mistress might be in order. Things needed to be tied up with her quickly and with as much ease as possible.
“Lucas, I had hoped you would come quickly,” Marissa said as he entered her parlor.
The woman had the nerve to wear a red dress that clung to her body like a second skin. Her hair was its usual lustrous color, falling past her waist as she sat on the sofa. The way her body unfolded itself slowly on the velvet fabric reminded him of the way a cat stretched after a nap. It was obvious the woman still had talent when it came to presentation.
“Your message sounded urgent, but I see now that there was no emergency.” said Lucas.
“Clever as always, I see.”
“What are you planning, Marissa?”
He refused the seat she offered, choosing instead to lean against the doorframe. It upset her that he would rebuff her, but she covered it well with a smile. Only the spark in her dark eyes showed that she was less than pleased by his attitude.
“I needed to see you Lucas.” Marissa pouted her lips in a demure show of innocence, “I have missed you more than you know.”
“If you found a new man to occupy your time, you would not be lonely.”
“I do not want another man,” she said starting to cross the room in slow, seductive movements, “I only want you Lucas. You know how to please me in ways no one else does.”
Lucas watched as she stretched her full body against the cushion of the sofa, lifting her breast in the air in a way that used to drive him crazy. Now the sight of her overt sexuality held no excitement for him. The dark color of her eyes smoldered with heat, but it only left him cold.
“I am afraid that will not be possible,” he said, shaking his head but holding her gaze. “I am a married man now.”
A high pitched laugh came from her, ringing throughout the tiny room. With a flourish, they woman tossed her thick red hair over one shoulder and blew him a kiss. Narrowing his eyes, Lucas could feel his jaw tightening until it became painful.
“Men do not leave their mistresses’ for their wives.”
“I have more honor than most men.”
No matter what he might allow Sinclair to believe, Lucas couldn’t stomach the thought of being with anyone after her. His voice was firm but Marissa still laughed as if she thought he was only teasing her. Irritated, Lucas turned to leave. That must have caught her attention, because a hint of panic was in her voice as she called out to him.
“Do not tell me you really plan on being faithful to that little American,” she said. “The girl does not even know better than to wear eyeglasses in public.”
With his foot stopped in midair, Lucas glanced over his shoulder to stare at her. He saw her freeze, panic painted on her face. The dark wells of her eyes lost their glimmer as she stared wide eyed at him.
“How did you know she wears eyeglasses?” Lucas let the words fall from him slowly.
“Everyone knows that she walks around in them.”
A catch in her voice left him unconvinced. She cringed visibly when he turned to face her. Her hands clutched the sides of her skirt, while her eyes wandered around the carpet. Her cheeks were burning red and he could see her chewing on her bottom lip.
“Marissa, what have you done?”
“Nothing.”
“I do not believe you.”
She looked at him with tears in her eyes but he knew that they were as artificial as the rest of her. He’d seen her use this trick many times when she wanted something he wasn’t willing to give. With an eyebrow raised and a cold look in his eye, Lucas waited for her to elaborate.
“I might have run into your new wife while I was at the dress shop today.”
“What were you doing on the other side of town?”
“I thought a fancy new dress might make you forgive me for my misbehavior.”
That was most certainly
a lie, since Marissa never wore anything that wasn’t French. Still her little lie wasn’t the biggest worry Lucas had. The only thing that really mattered was what his wife might have heard.
“How much trouble have you caused?” Lucas could feel his heart racing as he struggled to control his anger.
“I did not tell her my name and I only spoke to her for a moment.” Marissa said, spitting the words at him.
“Every woman in the shop probably told her who you were.”
Lucas raked his hand through his hair and thought about how his poor wife must be feeling now. Marissa wasn’t apologetic about what she had done. She sat there staring at him with a smug expression. Only his good breeding kept him from saying something that would wipe that look off her face. This kind of manipulation was why he never let a woman come too close to his full life.
“Is it such a terrible thing for her to find out about us? It might be best if she knows early into the marriage that men have needs they fulfill outside the home.” Said Marissa.
“There will be nothing between us.” He inched closer to losing his temper, “Anything I need I will find with my wife or I will live without.”
“She could not possibly satisfy you,” Marissa exclaimed, stomping her foot in a most childish way, “From the look of her she is as cold as a fish.”
“You should have looked a little closer, then.”
He gave her a sarcastic smile that only fed her temper. The flush in her face matched the red in her hair, with darker spots along her chest. Sputtering like a fish out of water, Marissa watched the earl walk smoothly from her room.
“You will come back,” she called after him, “Eventually you will have to come back.”
He ignored her cries and walked home with determination, worried at the reaction his wife might have. If she was angry he might have to be careful or his face might suffer. Remembering her abilities in defending herself, he hoped that was the only part of his body to be hurt.
Chapter 21
Sinclair heard when Lucas returned home, but chose to stay in her room. She had given Frederick instructions to say she was feeling ill and was not to be disturbed. Lucas followed her wishes and never knocked on the door. When she emerged, it was well past nightfall and most of the house was dark. Once again she found Lucas sleeping in his study.
