The Nuisance Wife

by Camille Oster

  "Perhaps," she started, "as neither of us, as grown adults, particularly like balls or society parties, we could find another way."

  "I suppose we don't exactly need the chaperoning system of the society drawing rooms. Saying that, courting you throughout the season would provide the perfect excuse for dragging my brother through said ballrooms of London. What kind of a brother would I be if I didn't force him around town until he found someone to his liking, or rather someone who could tolerate him."

  Eliza chuckled. "Then perhaps we simply need to endure. And that is a little ungenerous. Your brother is perfectly tolerable, if a little prickly at times. I am sure the perfect girl is out there somewhere." And if Julius couldn't find a single person after a season, maybe there was no hope for him if some lost love really had his heart so completely. She hoped not. That would be sad and awful. Maybe a fate that awaited all of them if they didn't try a little. It was worth trying, wasn't it?

  A lightness filled her, because he was giving her time. He was giving her a means of adjusting, one step at a time. Or one cotillion at a time. They could get to know each other again, and in a way that did always delve into their deepest injuries every time they spoke to each other.

  Never would she have expected she’d be attending the season again. But something about this was amusing, and one thing they'd always done well together was having a grand time. And frankly, a day ago she’d have balked at the idea. Now, a certain excitement was growing in her.

  Something was melting away inside her. Maybe her wounds had been exorcised to the point where there was nothing left there. It had been a painful and trying exercise, she had to admit, one they'd both have to go through.

  The very idea of putting the past behind her was exciting, but she was jumping to conclusions. This was to be a slow process, one dance at a time, one ball at a time, and maybe the love that had been there would flourish again, as would their enjoyment of being in each other's company.

  Hope flared in her heart and it had a painful tinge, but the pleasure of it far outweighed the pain. Maybe she did dare let him closer once again.

  There was a lightness about him too, a smile lingered on his lips. Of course the season was at least a month and a half away. Suddenly that seemed like a really long time.

  Chapter 34:

  THEY'D STOPPED AT AN inn and had eaten roast lamb. Unpleasant weather had rolled in for the last part of their journey, but it didn't diminish his mood, because Eliza smiled and even laughed. She was still guarded, but the scowl was gone, and that could only be a good thing.

  And they had a plan, a means of finding their way back to each other. Eliza had been curious about it, so come hail or high water, he would be accepting an invitation to every ball in the city this winter.

  In the meantime, he might write to her. What were a courting couple without love letters? Octavia would have to help him. Fine sentiments on paper were well out of his realm of experience. And he didn't even wish to recall his clumsy attempts as a young man, where he’d rather have died than have shown them to Octavia, and they were worse off for it.

  The narrow streets of Lambeth were slow to get through, but they arrived at Eliza’s house. It was raining heavily and the driver handed down an umbrella as he got out and walked her the few steps to the door.

  Water flowed off the sides of the umbrella. Proper autumn rain.

  At the door, Eliza stopped and turned to him. "Thank you again for taking me. It was an interesting excursion and hopefully the start of a business relationship that will go on for some time."

  "I think we also discussed some things that needed to be said."

  "Yes, I suppose."

  "And now starts our official courtship. And what courtship doesn't start with a stolen kiss?"

  Her mouth open in surprise and it was the opportunity he took, claiming her lips and kissing her like he'd wanted to so many times. The sweetness of it suffused his mind. Her lips soft, but reticent. There wasn't rejection there, but she wasn't abandoning herself to it completely. It was nice. The first of many, he hoped.

  Breaking the kiss, he walked back to the carriage so she didn't have a chance to rebuke him. As she stood on her doorstep, her fingers pressed to her lips and he waited for her to slip inside. And then he sighed, still feeling the ghost of the kiss, the taste of her. It had been such a long time since there had been a kiss between them. In the rush at the end of their relationship, such animosity, he didn't actually remember when the last kiss had been. Likely some quick kiss as she'd walked in or out of a room, that neither of them had expected to be the last one. Well, now it wasn’t the last and hopefully this one wouldn't be either.

  "Let's get off home, Joseph," he said to the driver and they drove off. It felt wrong leaving her behind, but that was what they’d agreed. In the morning, he’d continue onto Denham. It was time to take Octavia back and he also needed to twist Julius' arm into attending the season. It would take some time to achieve, but they had time. Too much for his liking, but it was what it was.

  *

  "Brother," Caius said as he arrived at Denham Hall. Octavia walked in beside him and went to her typical seat in the salon.

  "It's so nice to be home. London is utterly mad," she stated. "And I think we all need to spend the winter there."

  "What, no!" Julius said.

  Caius had discussed the plan for the season with Octavia during the carriage ride and they were in agreement. Julius was to spend the season in London, attending every ball with his siblings.

  "Caius needs to make an effort wooing his wife, and you need to support him," Octavia said.

  "What, no!"

  "You cannot hide away in the country all your life. Caius needs your help."

  "He doesn't need me to hold his hand."

  "As you are unmarried, we need the excuse. Caius needs a chance to charm Eliza."

  "You’re unmarried too," Julius accused.

  "Yes, but it will look more strange me being chaperoned by my brother. We are better off all going. It will be fun. It's been years since we’ve spent a winter in London," Octavia countered.

  "No, it won't. It will be awful."

  "Well, you're coming all the same," Octavia said with her arms crossed, and they both knew she wouldn’t be changing her mind when she took this stance and would pester until every ounce of resistance was defeated.

  "Fine," Julius said ahead of one of Octavia's onslaughts.

  "I wonder if Cecilia Blackwell will be there."

  "That awful girl. I'm not surprised she’s still unmarried."

  "Yes, well, she is too choosy for her own good. There isn't a man in the country she hasn't turned down already. I guess it’s your turn."

  "Ugh, never," Julius replied.

  "Never what?" Father said, walking into the salon, dressed to go out, which he rarely did.

  "Never deal with designing women," Julius said.

  "We are all spending the season in London," Octavia said brightly.

  "Oh thank heaven. Months of peace without you all," Father said tartly. "Well, have fun. When do you leave?"

  "Not for another month at least."

  "Right," Father said. "I'm going to see Mr. Chateron about that stallion of his. We should come to some kind of agreement on the stud fees for spring."

  "Oh, I'll come," Julius said, partially to get away from Octavia's planning for their future.

  Throughout his life, Caius had never developed the interest in horses that his father and brother shared. He appreciated his horses, of course, but beyond getting him where he wanted to go and doing so without biting, he couldn't care less about their pedigree or breeding benefits.

  Julius followed his father out and Octavia retreated to her room to freshen up after the journey. It still rained outside.

  It still felt strange being back here. They all tended to revert to their younger selves when they were together, and there was something nostalgic about it. Now he had to wait out some weeks here befor
e the season started. In that time, the days would grow colder, the bad weather becoming more frequent. At times when he'd been gone, he'd missed this time of the year, after the harvest when everything slowed down. The fields were burned and the yard was bedded down for the winter.

  At the window, he saw the apple tree he used to climb on a regular basis. In his time away, he seemed to have grown distant from the person he'd used to be, the husband he'd been, and even the child that had grown up here.

  How he wished Eliza was here, and that they could talk the way they'd used to. Almost like a ghost, he could see her walking around the salon, chattering like she’d used to about whatever she’d learned from whoever had come calling to the house. Would they get there again? There was hope, and right now he couldn't bring himself to consider the alternative.

  *

  "We really should have brought father with us," Octavia said as they walked into the family's Belgravia townhouse.

  Excitement at seeing Eliza was coursing through Caius' veins. It felt like it’d been months, when it’d only been one month. He'd received one letter from her in that time, and he'd written two. Writing sentiments wasn’t his strength, so they’d been short and had mainly described what he'd been up to, and how his siblings were looking forward to seeing her during the season.

  Luckily, Octavia had taken care of all invitations and responses, which was a surprisingly time-consuming activity.

  "He wouldn't come even if Denham burned to the ground." Julius said tartly.

  The house was nicely warm as they'd given the staff notice of their arrival, and truthfully, it was nice, because Denham was impossible to heat during the cold months. At the very worst weather, some rooms even had ice on the windows, and that was on the inside of the panes. This was much more comfortable.

  "Now I think we should call on Sophia Worthingham tomorrow," Octavia said.

  "Calling is where I draw the line,” Julius said flatly.

  "How are you supposed to get to know these women if you don't call on them?"

  "You’re enjoying this much too much," Julius accused. "I will only be pushed so far."

  Octavia rolled her eyes and Caius left them to squabble. Julius' accusation was true. Octavia was enjoying every moment torturing her brother, but he’d agreed to come, which meant that on some level, he was seeking a wife. Granted his prospects would be looked on much more favorably if he’d received his title, but that could be decades away and Julius would be of risk of getting set in his ways at some point.

  Because Julius could be just as stubborn as their father, he wouldn’t have come if there was nothing in him that felt he needed to be here. Julius wanted a wife—not that he wouldn't complain the entire way.

  "I'm going for a walk," Caius said, feeling the need to stretch his legs after the long journey. The carriage had been cramped with the three of them.

  The air was brisk outside, but not sweet like the air at Denham. But the excitement of the city was around him and he was on his way to his club to see if there was anything new to try on their whiskey shelf.

  His heart wanted to walk south, but he wasn't going to push seeing her. There was a certain sweetness in anticipation. The next time he saw her would be at a ball in a few days' time and she would be dressed in a new gown. At least he hoped so. He'd set up an account under his name at one of the celebrated seamstresses in the city and urged Eliza to order whatever she required.

  It could be that she still refused his assistance in all things, but he hoped not. He also recognized that Eliza could probably afford to buy her own gowns, but it wouldn't be something she would do if he wasn't insisting on courting her at every ball in town.

  It was a mad idea, but it had seemed like a brilliant compromise at the time. And he would probably hate having to attend balls, but he was so excited to see her.

  "Afternoon, Lord Warwick," the attendant at the door said as he reached his club. "We are pleased you could join us today." The man took his hat and coat.

  "Thank you, Turner. Thought I would sample some of Mr. Waincoat's new purchases."

  "I believe he has tracked down some nice bottles. Scoured the country."

  "Excellent," Caius said and walked into the warm, comfortable surrounds of his club. His ease this time was much stronger than the last time he'd been here, which must have been after one of his tear-inducing interactions with Eliza. Hopefully those were at an end. There had been enough of her tears. Now he wanted joy and laugher, and he’d do just about anything he could to make her laugh.

  Men greeted him, getting more used to seeing him here now. He wasn't such an oddity anymore, a remarked stranger in their midst.

  "Ah, Lord Warwick," Mr. Waincoat said. "I believe I have something that will delight you."

  "Wonderful," Caius said. "That warms my heart on a cold and dreary day like this."

  Taking the bottle down, the man poured him a measure into a glass, and Caius took a sip and savored it. Both sweet, smooth and bitter, all at once. "That is a lovely find."

  "I think so," the man said and nodded as Caius grabbed a copy of the paper and found his seat in the sparsely attended parlor.

  Chapter 35:

  ELIZA TRIED NOT TO MOVE as sharp pins surrounded her. Looking down, she saw the rich, light blue material that shimmered with light.

  "It's a stunning dress," Teresa said, sitting in a velvet-covered chair at a dressmaker Eliza hadn't used before.

  "Apparently I am not living up to the expectations of Lady Warwick," Eliza said, considering herself in the mirror. It was a gorgeous gown. She didn't dare think how expensive it was. Caius insisted on her putting it on the Warwick account. She had mixed feelings about doing so, but also recognized she wouldn’t be getting this dress if it wasn't for him.

  In the last few weeks, she'd gone back and forth about this idea of attending balls. At times, she was beside herself with excitement. Other times, it seemed a silly and stupid idea. But one thing she had learned was that she’d missed him. It was a surprise, but it was true nonetheless. At times, she’d wanted to point out something to him, but he wasn't there—wasn't even in London.

  "Are you sure this is a good idea?" Teresa asked. "Is this what you want?"

  "Going to balls? No, I can't say that it is."

  "Then why are you doing it?"

  It took her a while to answer, while the French seamstress pinned more needles around her skirt. "I suppose it is an avenue to…"

  "Rekindle?"

  "Get to know each other again. We’re both different people now. Do you think I’m being silly?" Eliza asked, looking back at Teresa through the mirror. A voice in her head was accusing her of being weak and folding—that her fortitude had stood for nothing.

  Teresa shifted and crossed her arms. "I suppose it's something that he is willing to try. And he doesn't hit you."

  "No, of course not," Eliza said with an immediate frown. Whenever Teresa talked about her husband, it sounded like a horrific marriage.

  "I take it you believe he's changed for the better," Teresa continued. "Personally I would never put trust in any man."

  "I don't want to be the kind of person who can't put trust in a man, and I don't think you should be either. There are good men in the world."

  Teresa sniffed. "Maybe if I had a man who was willing enough to attend every ponsy ball in the city, I might consider it."

  "Why don't you come with me?"

  "To a toff ball? I'd rather poke my eyes out. I'd stick out like a sore thumb."

  "No, you wouldn't. Quite a few people know who you are. You've met just about every charity in the country." When they’d prepared for Eliza's divorce, they had quite firmly placed Teresa as the head of the company. "You should come."

  "No, I couldn't imagine anything more uncomfortable. I’m not made for ball gowns."

  "Going alone isn't ideal as I’m technically not arriving with my husband. It will definitely get the gossips going—unless I am introducing someone."

&n
bsp; "Well, it won't be me. Why don't you take that Jane Brightly girl?"

  "Who?" Eliza searched her mind, but the name didn't spark any recognition.

  "That orphan girl who applied to work as an illustrator. She's from a good family."

  "She did? I don't recall."

  "I did mention it, or rather shouted it down to you in your pit of despair."

  "Right. Sorry, I don't recall."

  "Yes, well, she's found herself in unfortunate circumstances and is currently without means of supporting herself and has no family to speak of. She'll have the right pedigree, and will probably hold her teacup right."

  "There aren't typically teacups at balls."

  "See, there. I don't know those kinds of things."

  "So this Jane Brightly applied to be an illustrator? What did you say?"

  "I said I’d see if we have any such work available, and that we do have illustrators we use already. I haven't sent any work her way yet. I thought I’d give her a try when the opportunity arose."

  Eliza frowned, feeling sorry for the girl, remembering what it was like arriving in London with nothing but her trunk. It was terrifying. "Where is she?"

  "Brighton, I believe. She's staying in some boarding house."

  "Poor thing."

  "Well, I take it she could most definitely not afford being debuted at the society balls."

  "True," Eliza said, looking at herself in the mirror. This girl might not have the appropriate wardrobe, but that could be fixed. Caius wouldn't even notice if she added three additional dresses to the account. "I could enact her debut. It would be a purpose for me being there. Brighton, did you say?"

  Teresa nodded. "I'm sure she'll come if we asked her to."

  "It would be the opportunity of a lifetime for her, being debuted during the season.” It would give this whole venture a real purpose, other than her and Caius… She didn't even know what to call it. Nerves clenched in her stomach. "Well, we’d better get her up here quick smart if we’re to get some dresses made for her."