The Price of Innocence (The Legacy Series) (25 page)

“Well,” he replied with a sigh, “you’ve only seen the good parts, I’m afraid. We do have some problem areas of poverty and crime, much like Paris, I’m afraid.”

Eventually, the carriage left the cobblestone streets and traveled down a lane lined with large oak trees. A few minutes later, it slowed and arrived at its destination.

“I’m sure you will be quite comfortable here, Suzette, until we can talk more of your future. In the meantime, this will be your home.”

The driver jumped down and opened the door. Robert exited and offered Suzette his hand. When he led her up the small stoop to the front door, the housekeeper opened the door, as she had been waiting for their arrival.

“Lord Holland,” she said with a curtsy, eyeing Suzette as she entered alongside him.

“I trust everything has been prepared as instructed?”

“Yes, Lord Holland, just as instructed.”

“Good then. Suzette, this is Madame LeBlanc.”

The maid greeted Suzette. “Bienvenue à votre nouvelle maison.”

Robert smiled at the surprised look that came across Suzette’s face. “I thought having the company of another French lady in your presence would be a warm welcome.”

“Oh, indeed!” Suzette spoke, her eyes shining. “Merci, de votre accueil chaleureux!”

Robert felt the clutch of Suzette’s arm around his own, sensing her pleasure. Proud that he had made the correct choice for a housekeeper and companion for Suzette, he began to lead her through her new home room by room.

The two-story country cottage contained a parlor, dining area, and kitchen downstairs, as well as a modest room that would be used for the maid’s quarters. He escorted her up the stairs to the second level and showed her the main bedroom and small guest room.

Upon entering her bedchamber, Suzette looked at the surroundings that were somewhat reminiscent of her former life with her father. This was the first permanent dwelling she could call her own since the day she left the apartment. It was too much to bear.

As the tears trickled down her cheeks, Robert took notice and gathered her in his arms, tenderly holding her against his chest. “Don’t cry, Suzette. You’ll be safe here. I’ll see to it.”

As she lifted her head from his chest, he spotted a few moist curls and brushed them away. The light in her eyes touched his soul. They kissed, and when their lips met, he could no longer control the urge to take her. He reached for the door, closed it, and set the lock to inaugurate their new bed of lovemaking.

* * *

Suzette opened her eyes and sat up, discovering herself draped in a sheet on an unfamiliar bed. She glanced around the room and realized she had fallen asleep. Robert wasn’t there. The clock on the fireplace mantel showed 6 o’clock. She looked out the window and saw it neared dusk.

She threw the sheet from her naked body, swung her legs around, and sat on the edge of the bed. The memory of their intimate moments earlier brought a smile to her face. Robert had worn her out, and she remembered Nadine’s statement,
“There’s something about hours of pleasure that relaxes you like a drug. I come back, and I’m out like a light.”
Indeed there was, Suzette admitted.

Suzette knew she was quickly falling in love with the handsome lord. His constant care and generous outpourings of gifts were more than enough evidence for her to draw such a naïve conclusion that he too felt the same. Though he never spoke the words, Suzette felt it with every fiber of her being, especially when he made love to her with such tender attentiveness.

She rose from the edge of the bed and retrieved her corset and bloomers off the floor, then went into the washroom to freshen up. A few minutes later, she emerged dressed.

Suzette wondered where Robert had disappeared to and made her way downstairs to the parlor looking for him. Instead, she ran into Madame LeBlanc. Immediately, she lowered her eyes in embarrassment that the housekeeper knew what had transpired upstairs. Her maid smiled and spoke in French.

“Lord Holland departed, Mademoiselle, but left you this note.”

Her hand stretched forward, and Suzette took from her a folded piece of paper. Quickly, she opened the note and read his penned words.

Suzette,

I hope that you are comfortable in your new surroundings. You were sleeping so peaceful; I had not the heart to wake you. I will be gone for a few days, as family matters and responsibilities are demanding my attention. As soon as I return from Surrey the end of this week, I will call upon you and see how you are faring.

Fondly,

Robert

Suzette’s face turned sullen.

“He also asked me to give you this.” Suzette took an envelope from her hand and opened it, finding a large sum of bills. Madame LeBlanc’s eyes grew wide as Suzette gazed inside the envelope.

“A generous benefactor, oui?”

Understanding the inference in her statement, Suzette immediately closed the envelope and corrected the housekeeper’s misconception. “He is not my benefactor.”

“I apologize, Mademoiselle,” she said. “Your trunks arrived. I will see that they are emptied and your clothes are put away.”

“Yes, thank you,” Suzette replied tersely, irked over her maid’s belief she was Robert’s mistress. “Is there anything to eat?” she asked. “I’m famished.”

“Yes. I have a small dinner ready. I will serve it shortly in the dining room.”

She scurried off to the kitchen area, and Suzette stood silently in the hallway glancing at the trunks that had arrived. An overwhelming desire for Robert’s caring arms tugged at her heart, and she wished he hadn’t disappeared so abruptly without saying goodbye. She wanted to be in his arms, safe and secure. Now, the entire week lay ahead. She was alone in a new home and in a new country with nothing to do.

She folded the note and envelope and shoved them both in the pocket of her skirt before making her way to the dining room. Suzette worried whether his return to England would draw them closer or push them apart.

Chapter Eighteen

As soon as the carriage lurched forward toward its destination, Robert leaned back in the leather seat and heaved a sigh. He wondered whether he had made the right decision regarding Suzette. Even though he adored her, he feared she would expect more from him than he was able to give due to his station in life.

Right now he had to turn all of his attention upon family matters. He was due in Surrey—in fact overdue. His father had sent numerous communications to him at his townhouse after his return. Though he was not deliberately ignoring his father’s request for a visit, he was procrastinating due to his situation with Suzette.

As much as he respected his father, the Duke expected him to assume his duties. Each time Robert returned home, the pressures to act his age came from everyone. Even the household butler seemed to raise his brow upon his return, as if he knew what bed he had just visited.

His frequent jaunts to Paris were for the sole purpose of escaping his pestering family and choking responsibilities. He much more preferred to frequent brothels, casinos, and horse tracks than the stuffy estate in Surrey that housed his family. After his arrival, the lectures would ensue about his need to settle down, assume his role in society, and marry. Robert took bets in his mind as to which one would lay into him first.

The twenty-mile carriage ride to his family estate took enough time to allow Robert the opportunity to gather his thoughts on what lay ahead. When the carriage finally pulled down the long tree-lined lane to the residence, Robert’s demeanor turned pensive. The Holland estate looked regally placed in the midst of manicured green lawns, steeped in centuries of history. As beautiful as the land and residence appeared, the estate walls loomed above him like a prison. Upon his father’s death, the lands, and title of Duke would be his to assume.

As the carriage stopped before the doorway, Robert inhaled a deep breath, preparing for the inevitable onslaught. He waited until the uniformed footman opened the door, then he gathered his hat and cane and stepped out resolutely to face his fate. As his boots landed on the small round pebble stones of the drive, he dug his heels in with resistance. Merely a symbolic act, it somehow brought a strange comfort and delight to show an ounce of rebellion upon his return.

With lips pursed and hands clenched, he strode toward the door. It opened by the hand of their faithful butler, Nelson, who greeted him with the anticipated raised brow.

“Lord Holland, welcome home. It is indeed a pleasure to see you again.” Instantly, Nelson reached for his hat and cane and assisted Robert in removing his cloak.

“Where is my father?”

“In the study, your lordship.” Nelson bowed once at the waist and then left.

Robert pulled his jacket downward to straighten the creases from the trip and stomped down the hallway toward the study to his waiting father. The sound of his heels clicked across the marble foyer, until he reached two double doors, with one slightly ajar. The smell of cigar smoke filtered into the hall. Robert clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white and then tapped on the thick wooden entry.

“Enter,” his father replied, in his deep stoic voice. Robert walked inside and found the Duke sitting behind his desk, cigar in one hand, quill in the other, penning a document. Silence filled the distance between the two, except for the scratching noise of the feather’s tip meeting the paper. His father flicked the cigar ashes into a nearby container without looking up at his son to acknowledge his arrival.

“Gracing us with your presence, I see.” His voice, terse and cold, continued. “I suppose that I should thank you for responding to my request for a visit. I have some matters of estate that we need to discuss once you are settled.”

As the quill penned its last stroke, he lifted his eyes to his son. The Duke’s face was tired and drawn, and Robert thought he looked pale.

“How long will you be with us this time, Robert?”

“For a few days, and then I must return to London for an engagement.”

“Huh, engagement! Interesting terminology for your next departure to pleasure.”

The Duke returned his eyes back to the parchment underneath his quill, waving his other hand to dismiss his son until later in the evening.

“You may go.” Instantly, he picked up his cigar, taking a long puff and blowing the smoke into the air. “We’ll speak after dinner this evening.”

“Yes, sir.”

Robert turned around, leaving his father in silence, wondering why the change in demeanor. He was cold and distant, unlike other greetings upon his arrival home. His father’s usual tolerant patience had disappeared. It confirmed Robert’s suspicions that his summons involved something far beyond a friendly visit.

Not bothering to close the door, he strode toward the grand staircase and took two steps at a time until reaching the landing above. With his hand racing through his blond hair, he let out a sigh of respite, quickly proceeding to his personal suite.

“Robert!” He stopped at the sound of her voice and turned to face his mother.

“Finally, I get to see my darling son.”

Duchess Mary Holland, still quite strikingly beautiful for a middle-aged woman, flew into her son’s arms.

He tolerated her hug. “Mother,” he replied, as he bent down and gave her a kiss on the forehead. The strong scent of her doused perfume gagged him.

“Your sister shall be quite pleased to see you, my dear,” she said, patting him on the side of his cheek with the palm of her hand. “Are you staying long or returning quickly to your playground?”

“I will be here for a few days,” he said, showing no emotion. “If you don’t mind, mother, I need to unpack and relax. I’m a bit tired.”

The Duchess frowned in disappointment. “Always in a hurry to scurry off from your mother.”

Robert merely smiled, taking the palm of his hand and patting his mother’s cheek in return. He despised her show of affection by a pat on the cheek. He turned away and left her standing in the hallway.

He entered his suite of rooms and closed the door behind him. On the side table, he spied a decanter of brandy. He picked up an empty glass and poured the liquid. With a quick swirl around in the crystal container, he brought the glass to his lips and took a sip.

He strolled over to the window and looked out over the estate grounds. At least the weather was decent. His eyes drifted toward the Holland stables, and his familiar yearning for his favorite pastime called his name like an enticing adulteress. The other woman in his life needed attention, which was a black Arabian mare. An enjoyable ride sounded like a momentary diversion.

He flung off his waistcoat and walked over to his wardrobe looking for his riding jacket. Quickly, he downed the last ounce of brandy before leaving his quarters.

As luck would have it, no one lay in his path between his suite and the front door. Once outside, he headed for the stables. Upon entering, he walked down the row of stalls to the one that held his prized possession. Adara turned her head and whinnied upon seeing his approach, stomping her foot a few times. Robert smiled.

He instructed the groom to saddle her, while Robert stood nearby, stroking her muscular neck. When the saddle was on, Adara told him with a flare of her nostrils that she was ready.

Robert reached into his jacket pocket, took out a pair of soft leather gloves, and pulled them onto his hands. He grabbed the reins and placed his booted foot into the stirrup and mounted the horse in a quick gliding motion. With a slight kick of his heels, he sped out of the stables and across the estate grounds, leaving a swirl of dust in his wake.

The sound of the Adara’s hooves beat on the ground like thunder. It was music to Robert’s ears. She left in her path clods of dirt and grass flying into the air, while she ran like the wind. Rider and horse joined as one, and finally Robert found a moment of peace through another passion in his life—horses.

Adara possessed a heart much like his own. She was unbridled, spirited, and full of life when out on a run. When stabled, she became docile and quiet, but when released from the confines of her stall, she transformed into a horse whose speed no one in the county could match.