He reassured her that funds had been set aside for her personal maintenance, as well as that of the maintenance of the townhouse, so that she need not worry about covering her expenses for the remainder of her life. And that included such costs as lady’s maids, modiste’s and entertaining.
And yes, Mr. Daniels was no longer employed by Milton Bloomington, but by herself, unless, that was, she wished to hire a driver more familiar with the city.
Imprinted memories of Chance sitting inside of the carriage pricked her thoughts–– of him holding Mr. Dog.
Sometimes beside her and other times from the opposite bench, but always those smiling eyes laughing into hers.
Memories that tortured her heart.
“I do have one question.” She spoke up.
“Anything, anything at all,” Mr. Burleson leaned forward.
“Would it be possible?” She twisted the ring on her hand. “To purchase a different carriage? This one…”
Mr. Burleson tilted his head. “I rather think I understand. You are recently widowed, and the carriage must remind you of your deceased husband.”
Aubrey had not thought of that.
“Well, um yes. Are there enough funds to purchase a different one? We can sell this one, of course.”
“But of course, Mrs. Bloomington,” he smiled sympathetically. “And Mr. Daniels?”
“I’m fine with him. It’s just the carriage…” Yes, she’d rather not be confronted with the memory of Chance—of Mr. Bateman—holding her comfortingly, or making her laugh, every time she deigned to take a ride.
“No trouble at all. Here is my card. Please, send for me if you think of anything else you require.”
“You are certain the coach will not be too great of an expense?”
“Of course not. And if you have need of anything, anything at all, simply contact my office.”
It was all rather overwhelming.
That afternoon, as she strolled through Hyde Park, which was a mere three blocks from her new home, and marveled that she had practically everything she ever could have asked for. No, she did have everything she’d ever asked for.
And yet she felt dead inside.
Upon arriving back at Autumn House, guests anticipating her return. Yes—actual guests—awaiting her in the small drawing room.
Chance?
She did not ask who, but rather rushed to the doorway and pushed it open impatiently.
Of course, it was not him. And Mr. Carrington had said “guests” not “a guest.” Two elderly ladies sat upon the lovely velvet sofa in the middle of the room. Backs straight, the two of them were dressed impeccably. At her sudden appearance, they both smiled and rose to stand. Another visitor, a pleasant looking gentleman who seemed as though he was close to her own age, had risen from the seat he’d taken as well.
“I—“ Aubrey stepped inside more slowly and then approached the two ladies. “Hello. I am Mrs. Aubrey Bloomington.”
The shorter of the two women, a woman with curling red hair piled high atop her head, bright blue eyes and an easy smile stepped forward and nodded. “I’m Lady Zelda and this is my dear friend, the Countess of Longthorpe—Lady Longthorpe—and her youngest son, Mr. Jeremiah. When we heard Autumn House was being opened up, we simply had to stop by and welcome you to the neighborhood.”
A lady? And a Countess? Aubrey dipped into an awkward curtsy. She’d never met actual titled people before. “My Lady, My Lady,” And then she turned toward the gentleman. “Mr. Jeremiah . Welcome and please, do sit down.”
“My but aren’t you a lovely young lady,” the countess smiled as she seemed to study her. “I must admit that we expected someone much older. Our condolences, for the loss of you husband last year.”
“Did you know Mr. Bloomington?” Aubrey couldn’t help but ask.
The two women glanced at one another. “A very. Very. Long time ago,” Lady Zelda responded. “Nearly forty years ago?” She turned to her companion to confirm.
At the other lady’s nod, Lady Zelda continued. “Indeed. And so, of course, when we heard you were taking up residence, we wanted to be the first to welcome you. And invite you to Lady Longthorpe’s ‘at home’ in two days’ time.”
Lady Longthorpe turned to address her. “I do hope your journey was a pleasant one? I always say that a journey without excitement is the best kind.”
Had her journey been pleasant? Oh, my, but how could she answer such a question.
“Aside from a few unfortunate… mishaps,” Aubrey answered. “It was most pleasant indeed.
But that she could chalk Chance Bateman up to an ‘unfortunate mishap.’
“Is this your first visit to London?” The gentleman sitting off to the side finally spoke up.
Aubrey nodded, still dazed by her guests’ appearance—grateful, but taken aback.
She conversed with her visitors for another ten minutes before the countess rose, along with her son and Lady Zelda, announcing that they had other visits to make. Aubrey promised she’d attend the Countess’ at home but forced herself not to recoil when Mr. Longthorpe bowed over her hand, a rather warm expression in his gaze as he met her eyes.
Not that he was unattractive, or undesirable in any way. In fact he was rather pleasant looking and had seemed to be a kind gentleman.
But Mr. Cochran Charles Bateman’s betrayal had left her feeling raw. Upon meeting Chance, Audrey had begun to consider that she might marry in the future. But upon loving the blighter, doubted she could ever open her heart again.
She would remain a widow forever. Which was likely for the best.
She had a home, funds, friends. It seemed she had a future.
If only Chance Bateman had not come along to ruin it all for her, she might have known true happiness.
Chapter 14
Part Two, Chance
1825, (Two Years Later)
Chance dropped the red rose atop the fresh mound of dirt and backed away. A headstone would be placed months from now, allowing the masons time to craft a monument worthy of a duchess. Such practical matters, such mundane matters, required time.
His wife had been barely twenty years old when she’d died. Time had not been on her side. And yet she was at peace now. The pain she’d endured for most of her life could finally cease. No one had expected she would live much longer than she had.
Chance wondered when he would begin to live again. It seemed as though his life had stopped two years ago. When he’d left the woman he loved in order to marry a woman he had barely known.
It had not been a marriage, in truth. But he had done his best to make her comfortable.
“It’s over. Finally.” A hand dropped on his shoulder. “You fulfilled your obligation, paid your dues. The question is, what will you do now?”
Chance was free and yet, was he? He’d be expected to spend a year in mourning. Another year alone.
If he were to travel to London, there was no way he could avoid seeing her.
Chance shrugged as he glanced over at his friend. “I don’t know.” Hollis knew everything. He knew the true circumstances of Chance’s marriage, he knew why it had been that way, and the bastard knew about Aubrey.
In a moment of weakness, sometime during a night of heavy drinking, Chance had told him all about the auburn-haired young widow he’d fallen in love with at the very worst possible time of his life. Hollis knew how they’d met, how Chance had felt about her and how Chance had left her.
The memory of that morning never failed to haunt him. He’d hurt her, he knew that, and yet she’d stood a better chance at happiness if she wasn’t waiting for him. She could go on with her life if she hated him.
And so he’d done the very thing he’d promised her he would not do. He’d left without saying goodbye.
“She is in London. She is unmarried. Have you considered talking with her? Have you considered telling her the truth?” Hollis had the annoying habit of oversimplifying complicated situations.
An icy gu
st of wind tore across the field, sweeping leaves, long dead, through the family graveyard. Chance and Adelaide had buried their mother here a little less than one year ago, beside their father. In the course of two years, everything had changed. He felt decades older than the man who’d accompanied her on their unforgettable journey. He could not expect that Aubrey would be the same woman he’d known for such a short time. His Princesse…
“If you wait much longer, you may very well lose this one opportunity. It’s not as though the gentlemen of the ton haven’t noticed her. Not only is she beautiful, but intelligent, charming… and wealthy. Eventually she will accept one of them. You must ask yourself, my friend, do you wish to live with the regret? Do you wish to live never knowing ‘what if?’”
Chance slid a glance toward his best of friends and scowled.
Not a day had passed that he hadn’t thought about her. Hardly a night had passed that he hadn’t dreamt of her. Dreamt of the taste of her on his tongue, dreamt of his cock buried in her warmth.
Two years.
He’d never intended to make love to her. He’d ached to, he’d fantasized about it, but he’d promised himself from the onset of their journey together that he would not. He’d renewed the promise over and over as he’d come to know her better.
Chance removed his hat and ran one hand through his hair. He’d chosen to walk back to the manor, despite the cold, and Hollis had stayed back with him.
As a storm moved in, even his great coat did little to prevent the biting ocean winds blowing over the moors from chilling his bones.
In the end, he’d broken more than one promise. The one to himself, and then the one he’d made to her.
“If she doesn’t hate me anymore, then likely she’s forgotten most of what transpired.”
Hollis let out a short laugh. “Women do not forget that sort of thing, my friend. But it’s your life. If you’re willing to remain here at Palais de le Secours, nursing your damn broken heart, well, that is up to you. But you have not been the same since your marriage and I was hoping that if you confronted your past, you might return to your former self.”
“You are returning to London soon?” Hollis had responsibilities that there. Family. Duties. Friends… a life.
“Next week.”
The two men continued walking, both caught up in their own private thoughts. The journey from Secours to London was not a short one. Depending upon the weather, the horses, the roads. It could take as long as two or three weeks.
He’d made it in less than one, however, on a few occasions.
Apparently, he’d suffered from one too many dreams about his Princesse because his curiosity was beginning to overcome his chivalry. What if she could forgive him? What if she still loved him? He doubted it possible, but could he live with himself if he didn’t bother trying to find out?
He’d been chivalrous enough already, perhaps it was time he chase after the one thing in life he really wanted.
***
“How was it?” Adelaide looked up at chance as he entered the drawing room that had been their mother’s favorite. Although she was dressed in black from head to toe, she’d not attended the funeral. Women weren’t expected to and Chance hadn’t tried to convince her otherwise.
Adelaide had befriended Hannah, the woman who’d been his duchess for a short while, but his sister had suffered a great deal over the past few years herself. Chance did his best to help her maintain the balance she’d achieved since all of the… ugliness.
He shrugged. Death was never pretty. “It was… sad.”
Adelaide nodded.
The irony of it was that Hannah’s death was a tragedy, indeed, but not nearly so much as her life had been.
“She is at peace now. Those last few weeks were...” His sister frowned and shook her head. “She was in so much pain. I am relieved for her.” Hannah had struggled to breathe. The physician had done all that he could to make her comfortable, but her agony had been visible for all to see. “How are you?”
Chance shrugged again. He was… numb. Relieved. Yes, he, too, was relieved that his wife no longer suffered. But he was also…
“Free?” He could only ever admit this to Adelaide and possibly Hollis, both of whom knew the true nature as well as the circumstances of his marriage.
Not that he hadn’t made Hannah a part of his family, but they had never become husband and wife in truth.
“Will you go to her?”
Hell and damnation, he never should have told Adelaide about Aubrey. Bad enough that he’d shared the information with Hollis. Adelaide, however, had noticed the ring Chance wore on his right hand. When she’d asked about it, he’d been at a low point. He’d suffered too many of those over the past two years.
But would he go to her––to his princesse?
“At least try to explain what happened. I know you want to protect me but if Mrs. Bloomington is a woman you would fall in love with, I trust that my secret is safe with her. You have my permission to tell her… everything.”
Chance did not sit down but rather moved across the room and stared out the window. He was a widower now. Society would expect him to be in mourning… although males were often allowed liberties in this area that females usually were not. It wasn’t as though Chance cared to protect his reputation… only that of Adelaide’s.
“I don’t want to leave you alone.” Which was true. Although his sister had kept herself out of trouble ever since that one horrific night, Chance worried about her.
“You cannot watch over me forever,” she responded from where she sat. “Besides, I am not alone. I have Harrison nearby. Chance rolled his eyes. Of all the names for the man his sister would affiancé herself to, it had to be Harrison--Harrison Beecham, the Viscount Bering.
“You mean Viscount Boring?”
“Lord Bering is not boring. Besides him, anyway, I have the lady’s guild meetings. I’ll keep myself busy.” She added, but then grew serious. “You can trust me, Chance. If you think you might still love her, and if you believe there is a chance, I want you to go. It would comfort me a great deal. It might even assuage some of my guilt—”
“I’ve never blamed you for any of it.” Chance interrupted his sister and turned to stare at her. She wore her hair, the same color as his, swept up into a simple but pretty knot. Her blue eyes no longer guarded secrets from him, but were wide, honest, and clear. Her gown was simple but also quite pretty.
She had changed.
She was stronger now.
“It has been a difficult year.” What with their mother’s death and then Hannah’s illness.
“And yet I have not fallen apart.“ His little sister smiled sheepishly at him. “I am not a child, Chance. You can go on with your life now. “ At the age of eight and twenty, her statement was true. And yet she’d always be his little sister.
“I’m proud of you.” The words nearly caught in his throat. She easily could have given up on life and yet she’d fought hard to find herself again—more than that, she’d accepted herself. And Lord Bering seemed to have done so as well.
Adelaide only stared at him. “Will you go to her?” She asked again.
Chance had waged this battle with himself since the moment Hannah had been lowered into the ground. Not well done of him? He supposed. And yet a part of him didn’t care.
“What if she is attached to another man, or married?” But she was not, according to Hollis.
“What if she is not?” Adelaide countered.
Chance’s heart raced at the thought that there might be hope. He didn’t respond, however, but instead turned to stare out the window again.
“Harrison and his parents have invited me to dinner tomorrow evening,” Adelaide’s voice barely registered with him. “I accepted because although we are in mourning, they are practically family. Do you have any objections?”
Chance just shook his head, still lost in the possibility....
“I didn’t think that you would. Will you be
joining me? You know that you are always invited as well.”
Was it possible she could forgive him? Was it possible that she could love him again?
“Chance? Did you hear me? Will you be joining me for dinner at Bering house?”
His sister’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts.
“I’m afraid I must decline,” he responded. “I’m going to travel to London after all. I have some urgent business I’ve already put off for too long.”
Upon hearing his words, Adelaide smiled broadly. “Well then, by all means…”
Chapter 15
Chance
Two Years and Two Weeks Before
(Four days after Chance left Aubrey)
Prosser Heights, Margate.
The country estate of the Earl of Beresford
Chance tugged at his cravat. It had been tied unusually tight that morning. He was going to have to have a word with his valet, Edward. Just because he was marrying didn’t mean he wanted an actual noose about his neck. It that was what he wished, well then…
“You’re certain you want to go through with this?” Hollis filled two glasses with a spicy amber liquor and handed one to Chance. “You could take your chances. Your title may be French, but you are still a duke. Likely, you wouldn’t be convicted.”
“Murder, Hollis. I murdered a God damn Viscount.”
“On the field of Honor. It could just as easily have been you.”
“Do you think Lord Groby’s parent’s care about that? Do you think they care that the scoundrel deserved it?” Chance shook his head, tugging at the cloth around his neck again. “And I refuse to regret it. Likely Adelaide is not the only one who suffered at his hands. Likely she would not have been the last.”
“And this is what they would have for their silence.” Hollis scoffed. “That you marry a sickly chit.”
“How many other titled men, do you think, are interested in marrying Lady Hannah? Her parents were not interested in money. According to the terms of their title, Lady Hannah can inherit but if she is without issue, it goes into abeyance. She is their only chance of maintaining the lineage.”
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