For the Love of Lynette

by Jillian Eaton

  “In a month?” she said incredulously. “How am I supposed to plan a wedding in a month?”

  “I am sure you will find a way.” Leaning down, Harold kissed his wife’s cheek. “If anyone can, it shall be you.”

  “You know what,” Rebecca said with one final sniffle, “you are quite right.”

  As he watched the exchange between his parents, Nathaniel couldn’t help but feel a tiny twinge of sentiment. Would he ever have that with Lynette? That sense of familiarity. Of knowing just the right thing to say to offer comfort. Of giving love and receiving it in return.

  Taken aback by the train of his thoughts, he scowled. He wasn’t marrying Lynette because he wanted familiarity or comfort or love. He was marrying her because it would, in the truest meaning of the word, be a marriage of convenience for them both.

  “I will arrange to have a carriage take you to Dunhill on Thursday afternoon,” he said.

  “Won’t you be accompanying us?” Rebecca queried.

  Nathaniel gave a slight shake of his head. “I have some business of a personal nature to attend to, but I will arrive no later than Monday.”

  His mother sniffed. “What could be more personal than traveling with your intended?”

  “And stuff six people in one carriage? What are we, canned sardines? No thank you,” Annabel made a face.

  “Well now that everything has been decided, I believe I shall retire to my study until dinner.” With a nod at his son and another kiss pressed to his wife’s cheek, Harold left the music room.

  “And I am going outside,” Annabel decided. “For once the sun is out and - drats,” she breathed as her gaze flicked to the window. “It is raining again. I will be up in my room.”

  “Please be on time for dinner,” Rebecca said.

  “Aren’t I always?” Annabel said with a wink before she followed her father out the door.

  Neatly refolding Nathaniel’s - now soggy - handkerchief, Rebecca set it neatly aside on a table. “Will you be joining us for dinner, dear?”

  Nathaniel shook his head again. “Regrettably no.”

  “I see.” She sighed, as if she’d been expecting nothing less, before she said, in a slightly more tentative tone, “Have you… that is, have you heard from your brother?”

  Any talk of Adam in front of Harold was strictly forbidden. The mere mention of his second son’s name turned his face a mottled red and had him breathing through his mouth in little fits and starts. But when her husband wasn’t around, Rebecca asked about Adam every chance she had. Despite his many flaws, she still loved him as only a mother could and believed - foolishly, to Nathaniel’s way of thinking - that he would one day see the error of his ways and rejoin their family.

  “No, I haven’t.” Seeing the disappointment on his mother’s face, Nathaniel crossed the room and rested a hand on her shoulder much as his father had done. “I am sorry, Mother,” he said quietly. “I know it upsets you.”

  Just as it upset him to see her so heartbroken.

  “It was him, wasn’t it?” She tilted her head back.

  “What are you talking about, Mother?”

  “At the ball. The one where you said you met Lynette for the first time. It was Adam who met her and brought her outside to the gardens, wasn’t it? Not you.”

  “How did you-”

  Reaching across her chest, she squeezed his hand. “I know I often come across as a bit silly, but that does not mean I am not paying attention. You positively despise lavish affairs, and if I recall correctly the Renoir Ball was one of the most lavish and opulent of the entire Season. I do not listen to gossip as a rule, but when it involves one of my children I tend to pay closer attention. This is not the first time I have heard of Lynette Swan, my dear boy.”

  If that wasn’t enough to rock one back on one’s heels, Nathaniel didn’t know what was. Raking a hand through his hair, he regarded his mother with a wry smile. “If you know who she is, why did you not saying anything?”

  “Well,” she said thoughtfully, tapping the tip of her chin, “it was a rather good story. And even though I know what really happened - or at least what people say happened, which I find is often two very different things - your father and sister do not. But I must know.” Twisting in her chair, she captured both of Nathaniel’s hands as she gazed up at him in earnest. “Are you doing this for yourself or for your brother?”

  “Why would I do anything for Adam?”

  “Because you have always tried to protect him,” Rebecca said fondly. “Even when you were little boys. It wouldn’t be a far leap to assume you’re now protecting those he has hurt, would it?”

  Had he truly thought his sister was the perceptive one in the family?

  How very wrong he had been.

  “I suppose I am doing it for him,” Nathaniel said after a moment’s hesitation. He could have lied, but what would be the point? “And for her. And for you and Father.”

  “You do not have to do anything for your Father and I, my darling.” Using his hands for leverage, Rebecca rocked herself to her feet with a tiny huff of breath. Once standing, she stepped around the chair and lovingly cupped her son’s jaw. Her skin was cool to the touch, and Nathaniel swallowed a sudden lump in his throat as he realized how papery thin and frail it had become. “We want you to be happy, that is all. If this woman makes you happy, then you have our unconditional blessing, no matter her past or what other people might say about her. Well?” she asked when he remained silent. “Does she?”

  His voice uncomfortably gruff, Nathaniel reached deep inside of himself to pull out the words his mother wanted to hear. Words he was surprised to discover rang with a large amount of truth. “I believe she could make me very happy.”

  “There now.” Rebecca patted his cheek as, for the third time since he’d arrived, her eyes filled with tears. “What more could a mother ask?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  The next three days went by in a blur of endless questions and packing. For every dress and bit of linen Lynette managed to stuff into a trunk, she was forced to reply to at least half a dozen questions, nearly all of which she was incapable of answering.

  “No,” she told Delilah for what had to be the eighteenth time. “I do not know if there will be ducks at Dunhill. But if there are not, I am sure we can arrange for some to be brought over. Yes, Temperance, we will be coming back to London for the Season. No, I haven’t any idea how many horses Lord Townsend owns but you can certainly ask him yourself when you meet. Enough!” she cried when Delilah opened her mouth to ask yet another question. The bonnets she’d been attempting to fold flew across her bedroom in a flutter of lace and faded cotton. “That is enough. I cannot take anymore. I simply cannot!”

  Temperance, who had been sitting on the wide windowsill watching yet another rainstorm blow by, turned her head and lifted a brow. “We’re only curious about our soon to be brother-in-law. You must admit, you haven’t exactly been forthcoming with information.”

  Lynette threw up her hands. “Because I do not have any information to give other than what I have already told you!”

  “Which is not very much,” Temperance pointed out.

  “Well I am sorry,” Lynette said as she began to collect the bonnets with the help of Delilah, “but you know as much as I do. Lord Blackbourne proposed marriage, I accepted, and we are to be wed by the end of the month. In the meantime, we will be temporarily moving into his country estate until the Season begins upon which time we will return to town.”

  “And live where?” Delilah asked

  “I - I do not know,” Lynette admitted.

  “You do not know where we will be living?” Dropping down from the sill, Temperance crossed the small bedroom in three short strides and threw herself - rather dramatically, in Lynette’s opinion - upon the stripped mattress. “What I still do not understand is why you would accept the proposal of a man you know absolutely nothing about. Particularly given that this man is the twin brother of the one who ruine
d your reputation and put us in this mess to begin with!”

  “True love?” Delilah suggested, her voice muffled as she scrounged around under the bed for the lost bonnet. Retrieving it, she wiggled out rump first and jumped to her feet with a triumphant grin. “Got it!” she said, holding out the now dusty bonnet.

  “Thank you.” Lynette gave the bonnet a good shake before folding it into a tidy square and stacking it on top of the rest of the clothes she’d decided to bring with them on their journey to Dunhill. Dresses that did not fit or shawls with too many mended holes would be donated to a local orphanage. As would all of the furniture, silverware, plates, and paintings. Anything of small sentimental value they were bringing with them in one of a half dozen trunks. Anything too large to bring would be shipped separately courtesy of Nathaniel’s footmen.

  Mark everything you would like to keep, he’d written in one of the brief correspondences they’d exchanged over the past three days, and I will make certain it gets to where it needs to go.

  Through his letters, she’d learned that she and her sisters would be traveling to Dunhill in the company of Nathaniel’s mother, the Countess of Townsend, and his younger sister, Lady Annabel. He’d made a vague remark as to his own arrival, although had been very careful not to give an exact date, leaving Lynette to wonder when she would next her intended. She hoped it would be sooner rather than later, if only to finally be able to put to rest many of Delilah and Temperance’s probing questions.

  “We are not in a mess,” she said, glancing at Temperance who sat up on one elbow with an incredulous expression marring her ivory and cream countenance.

  “Not in a mess?” she echoed. “What would you call stuffing everything we own into trunks and leaving our home to go live with a woman and her daughter we’ve never met so you can marry a man you’ve spent less than a day with?”

  “That does sound rather messy,” Delilah agreed. Stealing the now vacant windowsill for herself, she hopped up on the wide ledge and peered down at the street below. “Oh look!” she said, pointing.

  “What?” Clutching a pair of shoes to her chest as a jolt of nervous energy passed through her body, Lynette hurried to the window, fingertips bracing against the glass. “Is the carriage here?” If so, it was at least half an hour early. Why, she hadn’t even gone through her hair ribbons yet!

  “The carriage?” said Delilah blankly. “What carriage? Oh that carriage. No.” Her soft blonde curls flew across her rosy red cheeks as she shook her head vigorously from side to side. “But there is a stray dog. Do you see it?” All but pressing her nose into the window, she pointed again at a tiny black and white bit of fluff huddled under a row of shrubbery. “The poor thing! It must be freezing. I wonder if it has a home.”

  Hearing the hopeful speculation in her sister’s voice, Lynette firmly said, “I am sure it does. Temperance, please go downstairs to the parlor and-”

  “But how do you know? Can we go and see? Please?” Delilah implored, looking back over her shoulder and blinking her big doe-eyes.

  “I am sorry, but we do not have time-”

  “Please?” she whispered, bottom lip quivering.

  “Very well,” Lynette said in exasperation. With everything else on her mind, the last thing she was prepared to do was withstand a teary-eyed assault from Delilah. Denying her anything felt like...well, it rather felt like leaving a poor puppy out in the rain. “But be quick about it, and do cover your hair. It took me ages to fashion those curls!”

  In a vain attempt to impress the countess, Lynette had roused her sisters well before dawn in order to style their hair (and had burned her thumb with the curling tongs in the process). They’d all proceeded to put on their very nicest dresses. A modest empire-waist blue dress for Delilah, a yellow muslin frock with a matching spencer jacket for Temperance, and for herself a pale rose-colored dress that had once belonged to their mother. It was a bit old-fashioned, but Lynette liked to think it complimented her dark hair and ivory complexion.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Leaping off the windowsill, Delilah dashed out of the room, revealing her drawers for all of King and country to see as she hiked up her skirts before taking the stairs two a time.

  “This is not going to go well, is it?” Temperance remarked from the bed.

  “It will be fine.” She took a deep breath. “Everything will work out splendidly.” I hope. “Now do sit up and make yourself useful. There is a white vase in the parlor I would like to bring with us. Can you fetch it, please?”

  Though she sat up, Temperance made no other motion to get off the mattress. Instead she regarded her eldest sister with a critical eye, and when her stare became too much Lynette threw down the walking slippers she’d been trying to stuff between two dresses and a hatbox.

  “What?” Feeling very much at her wit’s end, she crossed her arms and blew a loose curl out of her face. So much for trying to impress her future mother-in-law with a sleek coiffure! “What is it now?”

  “Why are you doing this?” Temperance asked quietly. “Why are you marrying him? You cannot say it is because you love him.”

  Shoulders slumping, Lynette moved a trunk of dresses to the floor and sat heavily in a mahogany desk chair. She wanted to bury her head in her hands, but pride and resolve kept her chin upright. She’d kept herself so busy over the past few days she hadn’t had any time to dwell on Nathaniel or their kisses or how his short, impersonal letters made her feel which was to say quite wretched. Faced with Temperance’s unyielding stare, she was finally forced to confront all of the emotions she had been avoiding. Emotions that ranged from doubt to uncertainty to tentative hopefulness. Emotions she didn’t know how to process, so she’d been keeping them buried and now that they were being unearthed she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “What do you want me to say?” she whispered.

  “Nothing more and nothing less than the truth.” Temperance squared her shoulders. “You are doing this for us, aren’t you? Marrying someone you hardly know in order to provide for Delilah and I.”

  Lynette did not bother even attempting to lie. “Yes,” she said without preamble. “But-” she continued when Temperance began to protest, “-I am also doing this for myself. For my own peace of mind, and my own future.”

  “You shouldn’t have to marry a man to secure your future.”

  “No,” she agreed, “I shouldn’t. But such is the world we live in as women. I wish it was different, and someday perhaps it shall be, but for the here and now this is the best choice I could possibly make. And yes, I am making it so you and Delilah will have a better life. The sort of life you deserve. But I am also making it because - well, because...because…”

  “Because…” Temperance prompted.

  Because I believe there may be something between Nathaniel and I. Something neither one of us wants to admit even though we both feel it.

  Lynette shook herself. “Because I have always dreamed of being a countess, of course.”

  “Of course,” Temperance said sarcastically. “It is what you have always talked about.”

  “Please.” Pinching the bridge of her nose, she closed her eyes. “Please do not make this any more difficult than it is. Lord Blackbourne is not a bad man.” Nor a bad kisser. “He and I will both benefit from this marriage, as will you and Delilah. Unions where the bride and groom know little more than each other’s names is not uncommon.” Her eyes opened. “In fact, the ton does it with rather alarming regularity.”

  “And if everyone in the ton jumped off a bridge, would you do that too?” Temperance demanded.

  “If it meant saving myself and my sisters from starvation then yes, I certainly would.” The minute the words were out of her mouth Lynette regretted them. She didn’t want Temperance to blame herself, and she saw by the sudden paleness of her face that her sister was doing precisely that.

  “I could get a job.” She jumped to her feet and her skirts swished about her ankles as she began to pace the bedroom. “I c
ould be a governess or a nanny.”

  “You despise children,” Lynette reminded her.

  “I do not despise them. I merely strongly dislike them.” Coming up short at the foot of the bed, she wrinkled her nose. “They have sticky fingers and are always crying.”

  “You are not going to work,” Lynette said firmly, “and neither is Delilah. I wouldn’t hear of it.”

  Temperance perched a hand on her hip. “You were looking for employment all over London.”

  “I made my bed, and I was prepared to lay in it. And that,” she said as she briskly wiped her hands together as though by doing so she could somehow physically dissolve their conversation into dust, “is all I will ever say about that. Lord Townsend and I are getting married. He will be a good husband to me and a generous brother-in-law to you and your sister. One cannot ask for much more than that.”

  “One most certainly can!” Temperance exclaimed. “What about love, respect, physical attraction-” She cut herself short when Lynette’s cheeks suffused with color. “Why are you blushing?”

  “I am not blushing,” Lynette denied even as she felt blood creep from her cheeks down her neck and flood across her cheek.

  “You are.” As the gleam in her eyes turned crafty, Temperance walked to Lynette and tugged at the collar of her dress. “Even the back of your neck is blushing. How...interesting.” Rocking back on her heels, she folded her arms across her chest. “Is there something you would like to share?”

  Unbidden, the memory of Nathaniel pushing her down on the dining room table while he suckled her breast rose to the forefront in Lynette’s mind and turned her face from bright pink to a dull, mottled red.

  “Nothing,” she squeaked. “Absolutely nothing. We - we should go see what Delilah is up to.”

  “Mmmhmm.” Doing a poor job at disguising her grin, Temperance strolled to the window. “I do not see her, but a carriage has just pulled up.”

  “What?” Lynette gasped as she whirled around and hurried to her sister’s side. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they both peered down at the rain slicked street below and the roof of the black carriage parked directly in front of their house. “Do you think it is the countess?”