The Fallen Woman (A Regency Romance) (17 page)

“So…” Leona sat down on the blanket and grabbed the picnic basket. “Does the doctor have any specific name for what ails you? To say you have a heart condition is somewhat vague.”

“Most doctors
are
vague,” Tristan answered. His health wasn’t a subject he wanted to discuss on their pleasant outing, but Leona deserved some answers. She was, after all, his wife. And they’d been getting along so well lately.

Leona dug into the basket and pulled out a puffy croissant, which she proceeded to cover in strawberry jam. “I think doctors are vague when they don’t know what they’re talking about. Is it possible he could be completely mistaken? That is to say… what are the odds that you’ll live to be an old man? It’s not beyond the realm of possibility, is it?”

“I thought I was already an old man.”

“Don’t make jokes! Of course you’re not old!” his wife countered. Squaring her shoulders, she added, “I’d like to go on believing you’ll live for years and years, and who cares what the doctor says? You should get a second opinion. Maybe he’s wrong?”

“I
have
gotten a second opinion, and both doctors said the same thing. They both heard an irregularity, and they came to the same conclusion.”

“Hmph.” Leona took a large bite of her croissant. The large mouthful might have been considered unladylike in other company, but she didn’t think Tristan would mind. She felt more and more comfortable around him as the days went on. “I’m going to go on believing there isn’t gloom and doom in our future. I hate to think of it!”

Our future.
Her words made Tristan’s ears tingle.

“Is that why Andrew’s been staying at Randall Hall so long? Does he fear the worst?”

“You seem to have an aversion to poor Andrew.”

“No, it’s not that I dislike him. I just… I don’t think it would be normal, in other circumstances, for a man to spend so much time with a recently wedded couple.”

“By all means, continue to dislike him. It’s an interesting change from the norm.”

Leona hoisted an eyebrow. “The norm?”

“Any animosity toward Andrew is strange, considering how most women clamor for his attention. Don’t you think he’s handsome?”

“Handsome? I suppose he is… if you like a boyish face,” Leona answered with a shrug. She took another bite and continued with a full mouth, “Beshides, I don’t shee why I should clamor for hish attention,” she swallowed, “when I already have the attention of a kind, caring husband.”

“I’m kind and caring?”

“Of course. You have many wonderful qualities.”

“As do you,” he said. “Should I name them?”

Leona put her finger over his lips. “No, please. I don’t know how I’d react if I heard compliments from you. I don’t feel worthy of them.”

He lifted her finger from his mouth and held her hand in his. “Why not? I’m sure your innumerable London beaux would shower you with compliments all the time. Besides, I would compliment more than your beauty. I like how you’re pure of heart, and so full of life.”

Leona shuddered. She knew there was nothing pure about her. “I don’t know about that.”

“You’re kind and vivacious.”

“Wild and tempestuous is more like it.” She rolled her eyes, but the gesture was disguised by her bonnet.

“Most importantly,” he continued, “you make me smile when you smile. It’s been a long time since these lips of mine have gotten so much exercise.”

“You are
much
too kind to me, Tristan. Besides… didn’t I tell you not to compliment me?”

“I couldn’t resist.” Tristan laid down on the blanket, and every inch of his body felt relaxed. His head was so close to her, it was nearly resting on her lap. “You have a very lovely chin,” he said, grinning up at her. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it from this perspective.”

“Well… my chin thanks you for the compliment.”

“Oh!” Tristan laughed. “Your chin can take compliment, but
you
can’t?”

“Maybe my chin is the only part of my body I have confidence in,” she stated matter-of-factly, even though she wanted to laugh.

“Anyway, on the subject of Andrew… you won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“Actually, he’s decided to leave us. He left for London this morning.”

“Without saying goodbye? How very rude!”

Tristan and Leona were silent for a several seconds, giving each other time to concentrate on eating, not talking.

Suddenly, Leona said, “Open your mouth.”

“Open my… what?”

“Mouth,” she repeated. “The thing you talk out of. There are two lips, a tongue, and…”

“Hey!” Tristan playfully shook a finger at her. “You don’t have to educate me on the function of a mouth, my dear. I was just surprised by your command. And
I’m
supposed to be the one who gets to tease you, not the other way around. So, you want me to open my mouth?”

“Exactly.”

“Are you going to feed something to me?”

“Maybe.”

“You sound a bit mischievous. Should I be worried? You’re not going to feed me a spider or a worm or something along those lines…?”

“I’d never do such a thing!” she gasped. “Now, open your mouth.”

When he did as he was told, Leona dipped her hand into their picnic basket and twisted a grape from its vine. She dropped it into his mouth and smiled.

“Better than a bug,” he said as he chewed.

“Don’t choke!” Leona exclaimed, feeding him another one.

Tristan held the grape between his teeth for a few seconds before swallowing it down. “You’re so adorable from this perspective,” he said. “I’m sure you’re adorable from every perspective, but you look adorable when you’re upside down. I can see up your nose, you know.”

“That’s terrible!’ Leona swatted his shoulder. “No more grapes for you!”

“I had to mention your nose because I’ve spent the last several seconds hoping the moisture that fell on my forehead didn’t come from your nose. Rather, I was hoping it came from the sky.”

Leona looked up at the dark clouds swirling overhead. “Oh no…” she gasped. “It’s going to rain, isn’t it?”

“Most likely. We should finish our lunch as quickly as we can.” Tristan sat up and reached for a sandwich.

A few seconds later, the top of Leona’s head was hammered by a huge raindrop. “I think we might be too late.”

“So much for decent weather,” Tristan hopped to his feet and offered Leona a hand. “We should take our picnic basket and head for the house.”

“Good idea,” she agreed, taking his hand and hoisting herself to her feet.

Tristan and Leona headed in the direction of Randall Hall, but the weather had other plans for them that didn’t involve dry clothes. As soon as they started to head back, the rain picked up immediately. Tristan grabbed Leona’s hand and made a dash for the house.

“Will you be alright?” she asked, concerned for his health. “I mean… with the rain… and the running?”

“We don’t have that far to go. I’ll be fine.”

When they reached the front entrance of Randall Hall, they were moderately damp and somewhat bedraggled. Leona pushed a few tendrils of hair from her forehead with a grumble. She’d spent so much time on her hair that morning, trying to look nice for Tristan. “So much for that!” she said out loud.

“I suppose our little outing was ruined, wasn’t it?”

“Actually, I was referring to my hair. Poor Mary spent nearly an hour perfecting it, only to have it ruined by the rain.”

“It still looks lovely to me,” he said, capturing a wet strand of her hair between his fingers. “You look adorable when you’re wet, too.”

“Oh, come on. Surely--”

Leona didn’t have time to finish her thought. While she was busy fussing about her hair, Tristan decided it was time for a kiss. He leaned toward her, and his mouth brushed hers. His lips were softer than she thought they’d be, and tender. It was just a small kiss, but it was enough to make her tingle from the tips of her fingers to the bottom of her toes.

And it was enough to leave her wanting more.

Maybe her life wasn’t so bad after all?

Chapter Twenty

On a stroll through Hyde Park, it seemed Andrew Lamb couldn’t walk twenty steps without running into a woman with amorous intentions. Every few seconds, he was approached and propositioned by a lady—if one could still call them ladies after all their brazenness.

First, it was Lady Stanbury, a handsome countess almost ten years older than Andrew. Nevertheless, he had bedded her at least a dozen times. He knew some people would fault him for making a lover out of a married woman, but someone had to do it. After all, poor Lady Stanbury was married to a man who was eighty, if he was a day. Someone had to make her feel better about her dreadful situation.

“Ah! Andrew!” she flitted over to him as soon as she spotted him. Her dress was so low cut, Andrew nearly choked when he saw her. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from what was below her neckline. “Well… I don’t blame you for staring, dear. This
is
a fetching dress, isn’t it? When did you return to London?”

Fetching? Scandalous was more like it. “I, um… just a day ago, my lady.”

“You were visiting that friend of yours, right? What’s his name?”

“Lord Randall.”

“Yes. Lord Randall. Everyone’s been saying he’s ill. I DO hope that isn’t true!”

“Unfortunately, there’s truth behind the rumor. My friend isn’t doing as well as I would like,” Andrew answered with a sigh. “So, Lady Stanbury… what have you been up to lately? I hope you found sufficient entertainment while I was away?”

“Oh… it’s been awful without you, Andrew. Positively awful!” Lady Stanbury pouted as she spoke. “I’ve missed you so!”

“I’ve missed you as well,” he answered, not giving much thought to what he was saying. He was distracted by something, and it wasn’t her bosom.

“Can you some see me again? Soon?” she whined. “Lord Stanbury will be out of town in a few days. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you kept my bed warm while he was away.” She cackled. “Well… I’m sure he
would
mind, but he doesn’t need to know.”

“That’s as tempting invitation, one I will surely consider.”

“You better do
more
than consider it!” she scolded him. “You better accept it, dear!”

With a shuffle of her skirts, Lady Stanbury was on her way. Several seconds later, a blonde cherub came rushing toward him with a stern-looking chaperone trailing closely behind.

“Mr. Lamb!” the cherub squeaked. Her voice was so high-pitched, she could make gentle dogs turn rabid. If she wasn’t so adorable, Andrew never would’ve wasted any time with her. “Mr. Lamb… it’s so good to see you again! You’ve been away from London… it’s been so terrible!”

“Terrible, Miss Bluebell?” Andrew answered, sounding incredulous. “Surely not. I haven’t been away too long.”

“But it
has
been terrible! I don’t like any of my suitors nearly as much as you, Mr. Lamb! I miss your compliments! Your words are like poetry. Your voice is like…”

Behind her, Miss Bluebell’s chaperone cleared her throat. Apparently, she didn’t like the way her charge was conducting herself.

“None of your other beaux give you compliments? How foolish of them. Why, I could think of at least a million compliments I could pay you, starting with the way your hair seems to glow like gold when the sun hits it, or… how your blue eyes put the sky to shame.”

“Oh, Mr. Lamb! You’re too kind!” Miss Bluebell clapped her gloved hands in a way that was almost ridiculous. “My other beaux
do
compliment me on occasion, but none of them are as eloquent and handsome as you. Now that you’re back in London, will I be seeing you at Lady Stanbury’s ball? She’s having one next week.”

Andrew nearly choked on his tongue. He didn’t realize the two ladies were acquainted. “I… I suppose I could make an appearance.” He flashed a disarming smile. “For you, I would most definitely come.”

“Oh, Mr. Lamb… you say
all
the right things!” She sighed so loudly, Andrew was afraid the silly girl might faint right in front of him. Leaning toward him, she whispered, “You can pull me aside and steal a kiss, if you want to…”

Behind her, Miss Bluebell’s chaperone cleared her throat again. She didn’t approve of their closeness.

“Sorry, Auntie,” the young woman squeaked. “Well, Mr. Lamb, I guess I should be on my way. It was SO wonderful to see you again!”

“The feeling is mutual,” he answered mechanically. As he watched Miss Bluebell scuttle away, he was surprised by how little emotion he felt when he spoke to her. He lived to flirt with women, but today he wasn’t inspired in the least. Why was he so bored?

An image of a maid’s freckled face came to mind, but he quickly pushed it aside. Why would he be thinking about
her
when a voluptuous red-haired widow was heading in his direction?

On most occasions, Lady Dudley put every other woman to shame. She carried herself like a queen and looked like a goddess. Her hair was a waterfall of fire, and he could picture it spread across his pillow. It was a picture he was quite familiar with, as he’d shared his bed with her numerous times. If she propositioned him again, how could he refuse? A beautiful widow of seven and twenty needed some companionship, did she not?