Larken (7 page)

“Why do you have nightmares?” Myles asked.

She sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know that, either. I suppose it’s because something frightening happened to me and I haven’t quite come to terms with it.”

“Am I going to have nightmares about Mama?”

“I hope not.”

“When I had a fever last year, I dreamed I was hiding under the bed and the devil was jumping on the mattress and laughing at me.”

“That
is
a horrible nightmare!”

“Yes. It only happened the one time, though. I wouldn’t like to dream that every night.” He paused. “When we’re in church this Sunday, I’ll ask God to take your bad dreams away.”

Her heart melted. “That’s truly the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. Thank you.”

As the world lurched sideways, Larken sat up in bed with a gasp. Darkness combined with her nightmare to render her disoriented, and she stared wildly around until she remembered she was in her new room next to the attic stairs. Her throat felt raw, as if she’d been screaming, and her lashes were moist with tears. With a sigh, she fell back onto her pillow. Hopefully, Myles had been undisturbed. Otherwise, she might have to move into the attic itself.

She reached for her bottle of laudanum and let a few drops fall onto her tongue. The bottle was nearly dry, so she’d have to ask Mrs. Mason for another one soon.

Chapter Five

Pedestal

O
N
T
HE
D
RIVE
T
O
N
EWCASTLE
with Nell the following morning, Larken’s feeling of anticipation was muted by a stab of anxiety about her scars.

“I won’t be required to disrobe, will I?”

“Measurements will be taken, but you won’t have to disrobe completely. Even if you did, you’ve nothing to be ashamed of.” Nell gave Larken a smile of encouragement. “Please don’t worry. Most ladies enjoy shopping.”

Along the way, Nell told her a little of Newcastle’s history, which Larken found fascinating. Originally a Roman settlement, it was named for an eleventh century castle built by the son of William the Conqueror. Larken took delight in viewing the various landmarks Nell pointed out, and by the time the carriage arrived at the exclusive shop, called Bower-on-Tyne, Larken was already enjoying her outing.

When the salesclerks saw Larken’s unfashionable and somewhat shabby gown, her reception wasn’t particularly warm. Their attitudes changed, however, when Nell introduced her as Mrs. Brandon King of Graceling Hall. Although Larken was slightly bewildered at the array of garments she was shown, Nell proved to be very helpful in selecting her new wardrobe. In addition to what was available at the shop, she was shown fashion plates from which she could choose all manner of custom-made ball gowns and evening wear, in a dizzying assortment of fabrics. Despite Larken’s reluctance to select a ball gown, Nell insisted she include several in her order, to be delivered to the house when they were ready in a month’s time.

While the clerks busied themselves boxing up the day’s purchases, Larken and Nell chatted quietly near the window display.

“I hate to incur the expense of gowns that will likely never be worn,” Larken murmured.

“Several Newcastle families can be counted upon to give balls in December, and you don’t want to be caught unprepared.”

“Nobody in the neighborhood knows Mr. King has married, so we won’t receive invitations.”

“Make no mistake, once we leave here, these clerks will make sure to tell everyone who comes into the store about you. The London Season is ending in a few days, and after hunting season, families will return. They’ll be curious about Mr. King’s new bride, and I suspect you and he will thereafter receive a multitude of invitations.”

Larken had no wish to refute Nell’s assertion, but she had ample reason to believe the unsociable Mr. King—Brandon—would refuse any and all invitations. If not, she would be faced with another challenge; she didn’t know how to dance.

As the carriage rolled up the drive toward Graceling Hall, the pounding of a horse’s hooves on the lawn outside drew Larken’s attention. She watched through the window as Mr. King, astride his stallion, galloped across the lawn, cleared a hedge, and came down on the far side in a smooth motion that demonstrated his skill.

“Mr. King is quite the horseman,” Larken said, impressed. “I probably would have fallen off during that jump and broken my neck.”

“Some people are born to it,” Nell said. “Now that you have a riding habit, you can ride too.”

Larken grimaced. “I used to enjoy riding, but I haven’t been on a horse since the train accident.”

“The groomsmen at the stables will be happy to give you a lesson, any time at all.”

Brandon circled around and met the carriage at the entrance. Nell and James busied themselves with the packages while Brandon dismounted and escorted Larken into the house.

“From the number of boxes strapped to the back of the carriage, I see the shopping expedition was a success?”

“Yes, I believe it was.”

“Will you have dinner with me this evening?”

Larken was confused for a moment until she realized he must be planning a family evening. “Oh…certainly. I’ll make sure Myles is suitably dressed.”

“Myles can come another time. Tonight, I’d like to dine alone with my wife.”

She made no attempt to disguise her consternation. “Why?”

He chuckled. “I have a little surprise for you. Dinner is at seven.”

Astonished, she watched him stride off. During yesterday’s terse conversation in the garden, she’d made it clear she’d accepted his aloofness. She could refuse to dine with him, of course, but such behavior would be exceptionally rude in the face of the horrendous amount of money she’d just spent. In all likelihood, Mr. King probably wished to discuss Myles and how he was settling in. The surprise he referred to might be a new pony, toy, or outing for the lad. Since Myles was a delightful child whose every interest and activity fascinated her, Larken relaxed. If pressed, she could talk about him all night long.

Larken ascended the stairs and made her way to Myles’ playroom. The boy was fixated on the new zoetrope Mr. King had given him—the image of a horse seemingly galloping along as the drum sped around and around.

“That’s so beautiful!” she exclaimed.

Myles glanced up. “Did you buy pretty dresses?”

“I bought so many dresses I’m not sure how I’ll ever wear them all! Tonight I’m going to wear one of my new gowns to dine downstairs with Mr. King.”

“That’s good. When he sees how pretty you are, he’ll want to dine with you every night.”

Larken rumpled the boy’s hair. “I daresay he just wants to talk about you.”

That evening as Larken prepared to dress for dinner, she decided to examine the scars on her lower back. When they were fresh, the scars had been red and puffy, like fat, angry caterpillars. Ever since Mrs. Howley had pointed out how disgusting they were, she’d taken pains not to look. With her door locked, Larken removed her clothes in front of her vanity mirror, steeled herself, and glanced over her shoulder at her reflection. To her intense relief, the redness had faded away, and the marks almost blended into her ivory skin color. She ran her fingertips across the smattering of white welts, which were all about an inch long. The scars
had
been disfiguring at one time, but only the most critical person would consider them repulsive now. To a man who loved her, of course, it shouldn’t matter. Satisfied she wouldn’t have to shy away from dressmakers or mirrors any longer, Larken reached for a dressing gown and unlocked her door.

When Nell arrived to help her dress, Larken selected a grayish blue silk evening gown the same hue as her eyes. The skirt was more elaborately trimmed than any dress she’d ever worn before, and the fabric made a luxurious swishing sound when she walked. The bustle was also fuller than she was used to, and she had to practice getting in and out of a chair in a graceful manner. Nell arranged her hair in a cascading display of shining spirals. When Larken examined the effect in the mirror, she giggled.

“My mama used to curl my hair this way,” she said. “It always made me feel like a princess.”

“You’re a beautiful lady now,” Nell said. “I’m sure your mother would be proud of the way you’ve turned out.”

After Larken fastened her mother’s locket around her neck, she was ready. She stopped in Myles’ playroom on the way downstairs, to show him her dress. His eyes widened and his mouth formed an O.

“Have I your approval?” she asked.

“When I grow up, I want to marry a girl just like you.”

“I’m sure your wife will be much prettier and far more amiable.” She gave him a hug. “You’ll be dining with one of the maids tonight. Don’t let her sit on Lord Topper.”

Myles was laughing when she left the room. Her skirt was so full, she was obliged to take the stairs slowly lest she trip on the fabric. Halfway down, she glanced around to make sure she was unobserved…and then she became a princess in a foreign land, descending the steps as her adoring subjects cheered. Her chin lifted and she gave the crowd a beaming smile and a cheery wave.

When she entered the drawing room, Mr. King was nowhere to be found, but a clean-shaven and terribly handsome man was standing next to the fireplace. Her husband hadn’t told her they were expecting a guest, but perhaps this was the surprise he’d mentioned. Could this be Theo King, her brother-in-law?

“Good evening.” She curtsied.

The man came forward, and she extended her hand. Instead of a handshake, however, he bent over and brushed the back of her hand with his lips. When he straightened, his likeness to the painting over her fireplace hit her with an almost physical blow.
Lord Apollo!

“Thank you for coming,” he said.

Confused, she peered at him more closely. She’d heard that voice before, and his eyes looked familiar. With a shock, she realized the man standing before her was Brandon King.

“Your whiskers are gone!”

A laugh. “I was given to understand Myles didn’t like my beard, so I decided to shave it off.” He stepped back to admire her dress. “You look quite transformed.”

Her mind was reeling. It was as if she’d somehow become Alice in the Lewis Carroll novel she read recently, entitled,
Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There
. Fortunately, Mr. King didn’t appear to notice—or perhaps he was used to women staring at his exceptional good looks. He moved over to a sideboard and lifted a decanter of wine.

“Would you care for a glass of sherry?”

“I-I don’t know. I’ve never had sherry before.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Well, let tonight be the first.”

He poured two glasses and handed one to her. She sniffed the liquid a moment before draining the glass. A shudder shook her body.

“That’s horrible!”

Mr. King smirked in a cocky manner as he refilled her glass. “It’s meant to be sipped.”

Larken’s face burned with humiliation. Why hadn’t he told her so instead of letting her embarrass herself? Furthermore, he’d seen his portrait in her sitting room and said nothing when she referred to him as Lord Apollo. He’d been laughing at her the entire time, just as he was laughing at her now. The anger she’d repressed since the wedding came to a boil.