Julia London (96 page)

This whole messy affair had become impossible to cope with. Last evening, she had cried for what seemed the hundredth time since returning to London. This surveillance of him was ludicrous! As if the
ton
did not have enough to talk about without her walking up and down Audley Street each day seeking the nerve to knock on the blasted door! Her lack of courage angered her, and she was weary of tears. She simply had to
make
herself see him so that she could return to Rosewood without delay, because she had absolutely no hope he would receive her apology with anything less than hatred.

She was as prepared as she would ever be, but it was hours yet before she could go. In the meantime, she would take her jam to the infirmary. They would welcome her—they welcomed
anyone
who took the time to call. Yes, it would be the perfect diversion from her misery.

   A generous patron of the Haddington Road Infirmary, Hannah Christian made a point of visiting every third Friday of the month. Her pattern was the same: she listened to Mrs. Peabody’s catalog of complaints, read a weekly paper to Mr.
Croyhill, and visited the newcomers. Having completed her rounds this month, Hannah walked to the infirmary door, listening to Dr. Metcalf expound eloquently on his plans to operate a wing for those suffering from consumption. As she pulled on her gloves, a commotion outside caught her attention, and distracted, Hannah glanced through the front door’s thick panes of etched glass. Though her view was distorted, she could swear it was Countess Bergen. She took a step closer to the door, and lifted her quizzing glass.

It
was
Countess Bergen! Her arms extended, she was nervously urging a hack driver not to drop the box he edged from the top of the hack and held high above his head. The man stumbled backward, but quickly regained his balance, squatted, and slowly brought the box down to rest carefully on the sidewalk. Curious, Hannah watched as Countess Bergen extracted what looked like a small jar and handed it to the driver. They exchanged a few words, and she produced another jar. His face beaming with delight, the driver dipped his hat no less than three times as he returned to his hack, gripping the two jars against his chest.

Hannah smiled as Dr. Metcalf came to stand beside her and peer outside. “Who is that? Oh my, Countess Bergen!” he exclaimed with some dismay.

“Has she been here before?” Hannah asked, watching as the countess knelt to rearrange the contents of the box. She smiled up at a passerby, responding with a cheerful nod to his greeting.

“She has visited from time to time,” he muttered. “But that was before we
knew,
” he said, and reached for the brass handle.

Hannah glanced at him. “Knew what?”

The doctor colored. “Before we knew of her …
reputation,
” he said, almost strangling on the word. “I shall take care of this.” He slipped out the door before Hannah could stop him and marched down the steps to where Lauren
stood. Hannah could see her beatific smile; it was no wonder Alex was so in love with her.

That glorious smile faded rapidly, however. Motioning to the box, Countess Bergen exchanged words with the doctor. His back to the door, he brought his hands to his hips and looked down at the box, adamantly shaking his head. The countess paused, her hand delicately brushing a loose curl from her cheek. Clutching her reticule, she glanced uneasily up the street. Dr. Metcalf said something else, his head bobbing intently like a little bird. Countess Bergen nodded slowly and turned toward the street, leaving the box at the edge of the infirmary steps. The doctor called a man working nearby to fetch the box, and turned toward the door, his step light as he bounded up the steps. As he entered the foyer, he grinned at Hannah. “Nothing to fear, your grace,” he announced grandly. “I have sent that woman on her way.”

“Have you indeed?” Hannah seethed. “Pray tell, sir, why in God’s name would you turn a benefactress away from this institution?” she bristled.

The young doctor reddened. “But … she is without care for her
virtue
, my lady! I should think we do not
want
her benefaction!” he blustered uncertainly.

Hannah’s eyes narrowed as she angrily adjusted her bonnet. “Her
virtue
, my good man, is a generous spirit with which she donates to your very worthy cause! How dare you be so presumptuous as to deny her gift!” she said coldly, yanked the door open, and marched toward her coach.

“Your grace!” the doctor called as he raced after her. “Please, your grace! I shall accept the jam!”

It was the last thing she heard as she was helped into her coach. “Turn this buggy around, Geoff, and find a young woman clad in dark blue!” she snapped.

   Dejected, Lauren numbly walked away from the infirmary. The whole of London had turned against her; she
herself had not realized how terribly bad her reputation was until Dr. Metcalf had asked her to kindly remove herself from his respectable institution. Good heavens, he had refused her
jam
! It was hopeless, utterly hopeless! She was the consummate
fool
for having come to London. She should have stayed at Rosewood where she belonged. She should have—

“Countess Bergen, good afternoon!”

She whirled around and saw a black coach sporting the Sutherland ducal crest coast to a stop. From its window leaned the duchess, smiling cheerfully and waving a handkerchief. Good God, what on earth was she doing? Surely his
mother
knew of her reputation? Did she not understand how this would
look
to everyone?

“Might I offer you a ride to your destination?” she called cheerfully, and motioned for a coachman on the back runner to open the door.

Lauren glanced surreptitiously around her. Several people on the street had paused to look at the duchess, some openly gaping at the ornate coach. “Thank you, your grace, but no.”

The duchess’s face clouded; she muttered something under her breath. Her head disappeared from the window, but appeared a scant moment later in the door. Grasping the coachman’s shoulder, Lady Sutherland hauled herself to the ground and marched to stand directly in front of Lauren, a smile plastered on her face. “Please, my dear, get
in
the
coach.
I should very much
like
to drive you to your destination,” she snapped through her smile.

Taken aback by her forcefulness, Lauren gulped. Acutely aware of the eyes upon them, she nodded faintly, and followed a smiling duchess to her coach. Once inside, Lady Sutherland frowned mightily. “Why in God’s name would you refuse me?”

“I … ah, I have a very good reason,” Lauren stammered,
mortified. “I am concerned about my …
reputation
, your grace.”

The duchess rolled her eyes. “And you think that signifies? I don’t give a hoot what they say about you
or
me! Now, where did you think to go on such a lovely afternoon?” she demanded.

Lauren swallowed her surprise. Where did she think to go? To beg her son to forgive her, that was where! But that was absolutely out of the question—she could not expect him to see her; dear God, the good
doctor
would not see her! “I, uh, was on my way home…”

The duchess’s face lit with her smile. “Splendid! No particular destination and I know of just the place!”

Lauren did not like the sound of that at all. She liked it even less when the coach pulled into the courtyard at the Audley Street mansion. When Lady Sutherland reached for her hand, Lauren gripped the squabs in stubborn refusal. The duchess frowned. “Countess Bergen, do you not think this has gone on quite long enough? It is time you and my very obstinate son spoke to one another.”

“Lady Sutherland, I understand what you are trying to do, but I do not think you understand! It is impossible!”

“All right then,” the duchess said, and folded her arms across her middle. “Make me understand! Expound if you will, Countess Bergen, on why it is so
impossible
!”

“It’s rather a long story—”

“I have all day.”

Lord
, why had she gotten in this coach? “He does not want to talk to me. I … I accompanied him to the opera one night when his … Lady Marlaine … was away. Shortly after that, he ended the engagement—”

“
She
ended it,” Lady Sutherland interjected, “or at least that is what we say.”

Lauren blinked and looked down. “There are those who think I had something to do with it—”

“You certainly did, thank God, but that is none of their concern.”

Lauren’s head snapped up. “All right, well,
then
he came to Rosewood—my home—but I had … I had … signed a betrothal agreement, and I did not think I could break my commitment—”

“But obviously you did,” the duchess said, clearly enjoying herself.

Lauren swallowed and clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “Well, yes, I did, but that was
after
he left. You see … I … I
hurt
him rather badly, I think, and he does not care to see me. And now, everyone thinks I am a…” She glanced at her lap, chewing on her lip. “A woman of ill repute,” she muttered.

Lady Sutherland snorted.

Frantic, Lauren looked at the duchess. “I did something quite horrid, and even if he
were
to forgive me—and believe me, he is
not
so inclined—there is little one can do when an
infirmary
will not even take a donation of
jam.…
”

Smiling broadly, the duchess waved a hand to stop her. “If there is a man who can change the collective opinion of the
ton
about anything, it is my son. He is the nonpareil of influence in this town, and can be quite convincing when he is not being a stubborn, boorish
oaf.
Haven’t you heard of the extraordinary vote in the Lords allowing Catholic representation? I know Alex has been hurt, but that is bound to happen when one opens one’s heart. Of course,
he
does not understand that, because he is so—” She paused, catching herself before launching into a discussion of her son’s faults, and smiled charmingly. “He obviously loves you very much.”

Lauren winced and dropped her gaze. “I think he might have once, but not any longer. I do not think he will ever forgive me.”

“We will never know sitting in this coach, will we? Come along,” she said, and grabbed Lauren’s hand. “I do
not intend to let his true love slip away, my dear,” she avowed, and fairly yanked Lauren from the coach.

   “Enter,” Alex called at the light rap on the door of his study. He glanced up as Hannah sailed into the room, her hazel eyes blazing. “Good afternoon, Mother. Something on your mind?” he drawled.

“As a matter of fact, there is,” she said, and marched to his desk. “Do you know what I saw today? I saw an otherwise compassionate doctor turn away a donation of jam to his little infirmary. Not just any jam, mind you, but a box
full
of it! And what do you think made him do that?” she demanded, her fists punching her hips.

Alex leaned back in his chair. “I am quite sure you are about to tell me.”

Her flashing eyes narrowed. “He refused the donation because the woman who brought it had a rather unpleasant reputation. Can you
imagine
? Refusing a donation because of
hearsay
?”

He could not, and he shook his head. “It would seem rather narrow-minded.”

“
Narrow-minded?
It was the most
contemptible
act I have ever witnessed!” she blustered angrily.

Amused by her outrage, Alex smiled. “Would you like me to force the jam down his throat?”

“The woman was Countess Bergen! And before you insist her name not be mentioned in your presence, I will
remind
you that a memorable waltz requires the participation of at least
two
!”

Alex’s good humor rushed out of him. He sliced an angry glance across his mother, and quickly turned his attention to his work, effectively dismissing her. “Thank you for that reminder, Mother. If there is nothing else—”

“Oh, but there is,” she breathed. “She is suffering the disdain of this entire town, but she was not alone in her violation, and
you
are a
beast
if you allow this to continue!
Dear God, you loved her enough to end your engagement, but apparently not enough to keep her from ruin!”

Alex slapped a hand hard down on the desk, scattering several papers. “That is
enough
!” he bellowed.

Hannah smiled wickedly. “Yes, I think it is,” she said, and pivoting on her heel, marched out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Alex glared at the door. She was a foolish, meddling woman who had no business intruding in his affairs. Did she honestly think he did not know Lauren’s reputation was the direct result of his overwhelming desire for her? And just what was he supposed to do about it?
She
had turned her back on
him
, not the other way around! She had made a fool of him, and now he was supposed to come rushing to her rescue?

He started at the soft rap on the door and briefly considered locking it against another of his mother’s invasions. “Enter!” he barked, and busied himself with the invoices he was reviewing. Let her rail at him if she wanted; he had work to do. He heard the rustle of her skirts as she entered and wished to high heaven she would just say whatever it was and get out. The faint scent of gardenia irritated him; she would have to wear
that
scent, of all the scents bottled on her dressing table! He dipped the quill in the inkwell.

“I am so
very
sorry.”

Lauren.
His head jerked up just as his hand inadvertently sent papers flying from his desk. Dropping the quill, he clumsily stumbled to his feet, gripping the edge of his desk, speechless. God help her, but his mother would sorely regret this!

“I am so sorry, Alex. I never meant to hurt you, I swear to God I did not.”

She was
sorry
? Such empty words for having drawn a depth of love he had not thought himself capable of feeling and tossing it back in his face. She walked unsteadily toward
him, her dark blue eyes glistening. “Magnus has gone back to Bavaria,” she said.