Authors: Denise Patrick
It was Aunt Mirabel who suggested Corinna ask Miss Ridley for help in securing a position as a governess or companion. It had not occurred to Corinna to ask her former school’s headmistress for assistance, but after Aunt Mirabel’s death, she had nowhere else to turn.
Although she believed Marcus’s assertion that she had done nothing wrong, she knew the
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might not see it that way. The doctor and magistrate might say Aunt Mirabel’s death was from consumption, but it would only take a few dropped hints that all was not as it should be and she had something to do with it, and she and Marcus would be shunned. The scandal might very well follow them for years.
Marcus entered the sitting room, drawing her from her thoughts. She looked up and smiled, the morning’s unpleasantness forgotten at the sight of his handsome features.
“Knowing that Felicia was busy with her unexpected guest, I thought you might like some company for lunch,” he said.
“I would have been fine with a tray up here, but I’m glad for the company.”
Looking down at her, he noticed the blanket and turned and glanced back at the fireplace. It was empty. He frowned.
“Something wrong?”
He reached down and took her hands in his.
“You are cold,” he stated unnecessarily.“Why are you sitting in front of the window instead of the fireplace? And why is there no fire?”
“I like looking down at the garden,” she responded, but she looked away as she answered.
“That doesn’t explain the lack of a fire,” he insisted. “I shall have to remind Wharton to make sure there is a fire in here and the bedroom now that the days are becoming cooler.”
“There’s no need,” she said quickly, standing to head for the door. “I’m fine without a fire. In fact, I prefer not to have one.”
“Why?”
“I–I just do,” she replied evasively. She turned toward the door, but Marcus’s fingers tightened on hers. “I’m hungry, Marcus.”
Marcus hesitated for a moment longer then let her go. He followed her from the room and was still frowning when he joined her at the top of the staircase. Over lunch she was surprised to discover Davey had left.
“He had plans to meet Jay and Brand for lunch to discuss what he was going to do next,” Felicia said. “He’s at that awkward age right now where he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.”
“A difficult time in any person’s life,” Marcus remarked.
Chapter Seventeen
It was wonderful to hear of your good fortune. I wish you the very best.
Miss Theresa Ridley, Miss Ridley’s Academy for Genteel Young Ladies, to Corinna Waring, Countess St. Ayers
Corinna descended from the carriage before St. Ayers Place with mixed feelings. The plain, brick-fronted, three-story-plus-attics house looked much like the other houses situated on the fashionable square, including Kent House, which faced it across the small fenced park in the center. She was looking forward to having her own home and entertaining.
Jeffers, the overseer, came out to meet them, ushering them into the large foyer. A slight man with overlong, dark hair tied back with a leather thong, he had a large, leather apron tied around his small frame. Taking in the dust covering him from head to toe, Corinna was glad she had chosen to change into one of the dresses she used to wear while out playing with the twins.
While Marcus conversed with Jeffers, she wandered into the room to her left. Two large windows let in generous amounts of daylight, the afternoon sun pooling on the faded carpet. This was to be the main drawing room. It, and the ballroom, would be the main entertaining spaces. With that in mind, she had decided on St. Ayers colors—red, black and gold—for this room.
Eliza warned her she was breaking new ground as most drawing rooms were decorated with decidedly feminine overtones, and in pastel colors.
“I know,” she laughed, “but not many drawing rooms are quite as large as this one, so I don’t think the dark colors will make the room seem so small and close. And there’s also the fireplace to consider. Black marble would not blend well with all those light colors.”
“Black?” Eliza had been astounded. “The fireplace is of black marble? How unusual.”
“I thought so too. There is also one in the master bedroom.”
Corinna approached the fireplace now and reached up to retrieve the large packet she had left there. Opening it, she pulled out the samples she had put together for this room, imagining what it would look like once the room was furnished. The gold wall covering with red roses would blend well with the gold velvet drapes. In the end she had chosen a carpet with an oriental pattern because those were the only ones she could find in the colors she was looking for. The pattern, she decided, wouldn’t matter much once the various sofas, chairs, settees, a chaise or two, and a few small tables, all upholstered or covered in red and black, sat upon it.
Satisfied with her selections, she returned to the foyer.
She could hear Marcus and Jeffers in the library across the way, but she headed toward the back of the house to a smaller drawing room that overlooked the garden to see what was being done there. Glancing in, she noted workmen on ladders plastering the ceiling and decided against entering. Eliza would approve of her plans for that one and another on the first floor. The one facing the garden she had decided to decorate in peach and blue and the second-floor drawing room would be decorated in a floral motif with leaf green drapes and carpets.
Marcus and Jeffers were emerging from the library as she returned to the front foyer. Jeffers left the two of them and headed toward the back of the house while they climbed the staircase.
As they stood in what was to become the sitting room of the master suite, she noted, “I’m sure this was probably the Countess’s room before, with a sitting room through there.” She pointed to a door in one of the walls.
“Would you prefer to have your own suite?” he asked.
“I hadn’t really thought about it,” she answered. “I know most homes have something like St. Ayers has—with separate bedrooms—but my parents didn’t have separate rooms.”
“Your parents were unusual within the
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.”
“Because they loved each other?”
Marcus did not reply. Crossing the room to the window, he stood looking out over the back of the house.
“What about Eliza and Trent, and Felicia and Brand? Are they unusual?” She moved to stand beside him. When he did not answer, she finally asked, “Do you not believe in love, Marcus?”
He sighed. “I don’t know.”
“What about your parents?”
His laugh was one of incredulousness. “As a child, it was likely I believed that my parents cared for each other. I know my father cared deeply for Brand and Eliza’s mother, and, remembering what he was like, I have a difficult time believing he would have even started an affair with my mother if he wasn’t attracted to her. So perhaps there was something there to begin with.” He took a deep breath and blew it out noisily. “But as an adult, it is extremely difficult to believe my mother ever saw my father as anything other than a means to an end. People simply do not murder those they care for.”
Corinna turned toward him then. For a moment, she’d forgotten about his parents’ difficulties.
“I’m sorry,” she said slowly. “I didn’t mean to dredge up unpleasant memories.” She moved closer to him and slipped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest. Marcus put his arms around her, holding her gently against him. They stood that way for a while before she raised her head to look up at him and ventured an opinion. “It’s time, Marcus, time to let it go.”
“Time to let what go?”
“The pain, the horror, the guilt,” she replied. “It’s time to let go of the past. Your parents are gone and no one, save for Brand and Felicia, knows what happened. And even they don’t know the whole story.”
She felt him take another deep breath. “You may be right,” he concurred, “but that doesn’t make it any easier. I suppose I shall always look back on my childhood with that knowledge as a filter. It makes me question everything I thought I knew about my parents.”
“I wish it wouldn’t.” Her voice was soft as she continued. “Eliza knows nothing about what happened, and because of it she remembers a wonderful, happy childhood with two parents who loved her and each other. It couldn’t have been any different for you.”
“Perhaps I would have been better off never knowing as well. Forgetfulness will be a long time coming, if ever.”
“I know you cannot forget, but could you try not to remember your mother in such a terrible light? It will only continue to hurt you and I couldn’t bear to watch you suffer for it.”
He slanted a glance down at her. “And why is that?”
Corinna tilted her head to one side and studied him for a few moments. Did he truly not know how she felt? Should she tell him? Once she discovered her feelings at St. Ayers, she’d resolved not to tell him. But how long could she keep it to herself?
“Because I cannot bear to see you hurting,” she said simply, removing her arms from around his waist to slide them up around his neck. Pulling his head down as she lifted herself up on her toes and kissed him.
Marcus’s arms tightened around her as he responded to her invitation, sinking into her softness, and reining in his natural inclination to take control. She did not take the initiative very often, but he found that he enjoyed it immensely when she did. His body stirred as she rubbed her lips against his, and when he felt the tip of her tongue slide along his bottom lip, he parted his lips, allowing their breath to mingle.
It was a gentle, yet exquisite moment for the two of them. The slide of her tongue against his was subtle yet intoxicating to his senses. He was aware of every inch of her—breasts, stomach, thighs—all intimately pressed against him, warm, soft and inviting. He nearly groaned as he raised his head and looked down into her expressive eyes.
He knew what she wanted to hear. But he couldn’t voice it. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to, but he truly didn’t know himself. How did a person know they loved someone else? He had loved his parents, but the love of a child for a parent was different from the love Corinna expected. There was no question in his mind that he would love his children. But between the two of them, it seemed there should be more, even if he couldn’t put a name to it.
“Lady Barber to see you, my lady,” Wharton announced, standing aside to allow Julianna to enter the drawing room of Waring House the next morning.
Corinna rose from the sofa to greet her. “How nice to see you,” she greeted the young woman. Fashionably dressed in a fuschia morning gown trimmed with white lace around the neckline, her dark hair braided and wound into a simple coronet, Julianna looked lovely.
“I hope I’m not intruding,” Julianna demurred as Wharton was sent for tea.
“Of course not.” Corinna smiled.
Corinna was glad of Julianna’s friendship. Although Corinna hadn’t remembered her very well, they had known each other at Miss Ridley’s and Julianna had admitted that since she was a year younger, they had truthfully only known each other in passing. The acquaintance, however, had been enough for Julianna to strike up a conversation with Corinna at the Gillendale’s ball a few days ago.
“And how is little Joseph doing today?” Corinna asked after Julianna’s son.
Beaming proudly, Julianna launched into a recital of her three-month-old’s latest accomplishments. Corinna noticed Julianna talked excitedly about her son and parents, but rarely mentioned her husband, Lord Barber, who, it turned out, was a distant cousin and her father’s heir.
The family had been devastated at the death of her brother four years before, leaving her father, Viscount Northrup, without an heir. The ensuing search for the nearest male relative had meant tracing the family tree through a number of generations. Julianna and her husband shared a great-great-grandfather, but that was all, as the fifth Viscount had been married twice, and Julianna’s husband had descended from the son born to his second wife. In her father’s eyes, it had been fortuitous, and he had insisted that the two of them marry.
“Did you not have a Season, then?” Corinna had asked.
“Actually, I did, but I found none of the young men to my liking. Then when I met Vin, Papa gave me a choice. He seemed quite nice, so I said yes.”
Yet, Corinna felt a reticence in Julianna when it came to talking about her husband and she wondered if perhaps they did not get on very well. It would not be the first
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marriage based on connections rather than mutual affection between the participants, but Corinna could not help but feel sorry for her. Perhaps he had been
quite nice
in the beginning, but once he had his heir had already gone astray. Corinna could not put her finger on what she sensed, but it did not seem to be a very satisfying situation for Julianna. At least she had Joseph.
At the same time, having a friend her own age helped her tread the sometimes dangerous waters of the
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with a little more confidence, and meant she did not have to lean on her family as much for company.
“Do you remember Annabelle Malton?” Julianna suddenly asked her.