A Whisper of Desire (24 page)

Today was the first day Marisa managed to walk downstairs at Kenwood House unaided. She'd been home for only one week, and it was almost six weeks since she sustained her injuries. Even with her terrible scar and limited movement, she'd never been happier.

Maitland slept in her bed every night. He hovered over her like an old woman. She had to repeatedly ask either Arend or Hadley to take him out.

This morning they had taken him to Tattersall's to look for a new steed for her. He wanted a more sedate horse while she was recuperating.

So the first face to greet her as she made her way to the drawing room was Simon's. The little boy had been made a page, and to her relief he was happy. He worshipped Priscilla and her two girls.

For one brief moment her smile faded. It was Clarence she was worried about. He was not suited for being in service. He hated taking orders and doing what he considered menial work. She sensed she was losing him. He might leave them and slip back into a life he found less demeaning than emptying chamber pots. She hated how he found his previous life more normal.

It was Maitland who gave her an idea one night as they lay talking in bed. Each night, they would lie, wrapped in each other's arms, talking late into the night. Every night she fell asleep wrapped in his warm, safe embrace. To her frustration, he still refused to make love to her, even though she was feeling much better.

“Good morning, young man.”

Simon beamed up at her.

“Would you fetch Clarence for me? Tell him I wish to see him in my drawing room.”

Simon's obvious happiness lifted her spirits higher. When Clarence arrived, all serious and annoyed, she wished she could help him more. Simon, being younger, was bouncing back. Clarence, on the other hand, had the guilt to live with.

He looked so handsome in his livery. She wasn't the only one to notice. The maids twittered and giggled whenever he was around. Priscilla mentioned they would probably have to watch him, but she'd not replied and simply frowned, wondering if he even desired women.

His smile for her was genuine. “It's wonderful to see you looking so well, Your Grace.”

“And you,” she replied. She beckoned him to take a seat. “Come, sit. I need your help with an idea of mine.”

Clarence's curiosity was piqued. He sat and looked at her in confusion.

“His Grace has given me my dowry to use as I see fit. It's quite a considerable sum.”

“I know nothing about investments, Your Grace.”

She laughed and clapped her hands together. “True. Don't look so scared. I know what I wish to do with the money.” He sat forward expectantly. “I wish to donate—no, that is not the right word; ‘invest' would be better. I wish to invest in London and the surrounding orphanages to the point where I control them.”

Clarence's face lost its smile. “I see.” His leg began to jiggle, his shoe making a small tap on the wooden floor. “You do know that many are not very nice places.”

“That is why I wish to gain control of them.”

“I still don't see how this concerns me.”

“I want you to become my man of business. I want you to help me ensure the orphanages I invest in are well-run homes where the children are treated well and are taught skills to help them make an honest path in this world.”

He looked stunned.

“You would have an office next to mine. Maitland has agreed to let us convert the room overlooking the front garden into two offices. You would receive a yearly salary of one hundred and fifty pounds and a clothing allowance.”

The silence lengthened. She'd hoped for some kind of reaction by now. His wage was very generous, but there was only silence.

“Well?” She watched his Adam's apple bob.

“I can't, I don't know, I'm not worthy…” Emotion was choking his words. “That is so much money. I could keep Simon by myself on that wage and he could go to school…” His eyes began to brim with tears. A quiet “Thank you” escaped his lips. “You have allowed a man like me into your home. You've helped Simon, and now you would trust me with orphans, knowing what I was, what I did…You're an angel.”

“No angel.” She reached across the space between their chairs and took his hands in hers. “But for the circumstances of our births, we are but the same. We both bleed, we both get hungry, we both hurt, we both cry, and we both love. If you tell me you wish to leave the past behind you and move on with your life, I am prepared to ensure you get that chance.” She squeezed his hand. “Besides, I need your knowledge. Who better to ascertain the truth of how an orphanage is run? I wouldn't know the first thing to look for.”

He sat looking at her as if she were a dream. Her heart sang when she saw such hope reflected in his eyes.

“I accept. It's a very generous wage and I promise I will not let you down.”

“Maitland has found accommodation for you in bachelor apartments in Piccadilly.”

His face fell. “You want me to leave? What of Simon?”

“Simon is safe here. I think he's happy. I will ensure he is schooled too. But no, you don't have to leave. It is entirely up to you. I simply thought you might like more privacy. I've noticed you have the young girls in quite a stir.”

His face flushed a delightful pink. “I do not encourage them.”

“I know.”

“You think I'll corrupt them?”

“No. I don't even know if you…desire women, and I do not care. That is your private business. I simply thought you might like space to work out who you really are.”

Waves of emotion raced across his beautiful face. Surprise, relief, fear, and resignation.

She wanted to reassure him. “We cannot choose who we feel desire or love for. We seem to have no control over what our bodies and hearts want, no matter what our minds tell us. And sometimes our hearts trick us and we choose unwisely.”

“I don't think I've ever been in a position to listen to what I want.”

“You have time now. There is no rush.”

“May I consider His Grace's offer of accommodations? I want to be near Simon for a while. I need to earn his forgiveness.”

She saw the guilt he carried and understood his need to form a different type of relationship with his brother.

“Of course. You are welcome to live here as long as you wish.” She hesitated before adding, “Simon loves you and does not blame you.”

He shook his head vigorously. “You're wrong. Deep down inside he can't help but blame me.”

She gave him a sad smile. What could she say? He was probably right. The boys just needed space and time and safety to work through the past.

Turning back to her desk, she drew out a piece of paper. “I have taken the liberty of drawing up a list of orphanages. If you know of any others, please add them.” She paused. “That is if you can write?”

His head lifted. “Angelo taught us to read and write.”

“Good of him,” she added sarcastically.

“Only because he said gentlemen preferred bed partners who could converse intelligently.”

She really shouldn't be so pleased a man was dead, but really.

The next hour they sat and discussed her list and how they might go about inspecting the properties.

Priscilla interrupted them at lunch. “I think you should rest, Marisa. Don't forget we are having the Libertine Scholars and wives over for dinner this evening. You don't want to overdo things.”

Clarence rose to leave, and before Priscilla could turn away, Marisa said, “Would you mind staying? I'd like a quick word.”

Clarence left and Marisa called for a light lunch and tea. Once they were comfortable in the chairs by the newly stoked fire, teacups in hand, Marisa said, “I want to thank you for changing your plans and staying in London longer. It's very kind of you.”

“Oh, it's nothing. The girls are enjoying being here, and I find I miss London more than I thought.”

She studied Priscilla and noted the woman appeared more relaxed and happy than she'd been when she first arrived in London.

“How have you found being back in society?”

“Strange. I'm still the object of gossip and innuendo; but some women have been very kind and welcoming.” Her cheeks tinged pink.

“And the men?” Marisa joked.

The smile dimmed. “What does it matter? I cannot form any attachments.”

It was the first time she'd heard bitterness in Priscilla's voice, and Marisa wished the floor would swallow her whole. “I'm so sorry. Forgive me. I spoke without thinking.”

Priscilla waved a hand. “It is of no importance. I gave up on self-pity many years ago. I have my children, and a good life. I'm content.”

“And you're welcome here whenever you wish. This is your home too. I hope you'll visit with us regularly.”

“Thank you. It's nice to have a new friend.”

They sat, sipping their tea in silence. After a few minutes Marisa found her courage.

“May I ask you for your opinion, given you have had children?”

“Of course. I hope you'll think on me as a close friend. I've been lonely for female companionship over the years.”

Marisa reached for her hand and squeezed it. Priscilla really was a remarkable woman, given all she'd been through. Marisa let her hand go and settled back in her chair.

“It has been over six weeks since my…” She felt her face flush. Priscilla's face broke into a smile.

“Since you had your courses,” her new friend finished for her. “How wonderful.”

“I must be at least seven weeks pregnant, but I don't wish to get my hopes up. I was wondering…Do you think the trauma of the accident might have caused my courses to stop temporarily?”

Priscilla seemed to think on it for a moment. “I suppose it could. There are a number of reasons for a woman's courses to stop or delay.” She studied her for a moment. “You don't appear to be the type of woman who would let such an incident unsettle you terribly. There is only one way to be sure.”

Marisa nodded. “I have to call for the physician.” She rose and pulled the bell. Simon arrived before she'd had a chance to retake her seat.

“Simon, would you please run to Dr. Philips and ask him to call on me?”

Simon took a hurried step forward. “Are you unwell, Your Grace?”

Bless his little worried face. She gave him a reassuring smile. “No, I'm very well, thank you, Simon. I simply need him to check my wound before I dress for our guests this evening.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positively.”

He smiled before racing off to fetch the physician.

Priscilla stood to take her leave. “We may be celebrating tonight.” She pressed a kiss to Marisa's cheek. “Maitland will be overjoyed.”

“Let's not get our hopes up just yet.”

Marisa sat on her bed in her shift, covered by a robe, excitement coursing through her body. She placed a hand on her stomach. She could be carrying Maitland's child. She hoped it was a son. He so wanted a son. Now she understood what women in love, who were married to titled gentlemen, prayed for. They wanted to give their husbands their heart's desire—a son and heir.

A knock at the bedchamber door shook her dream away. “Come in, Dr. Philips.”

The Lyttleton family physician was a middle-aged gent, with graying hair and a friendly, weathered face. He was not very tall, but he was solid. His smile instantly put patients at ease, and from day one, when he'd treated her upon her homecoming, she'd never been frightened of him.

“Your Grace, it's wonderful to see you looking so well. I must admit I was surprised upon receiving your summons. I was worried, but the little lad said you simply wanted me to check your dressings. I knew that to be a lie, as I removed the last dressings two days ago.”

The excitement rose so that her words tumbled out of her mouth in a rare babble.

“I haven't had my courses for over six weeks, since before the accident. I think I might be with child,” she gushed. “Is it too early to tell?”

At the stunned silence, fear crept in and pushed out her hope. The doctor's face filled with pity and tinged a faint pink, as if he were embarrassed.

“Has your husband talked to you about the injuries you suffered?”

Coldness swept the room even though the fire was blazing in the hearth.

“Why don't you inform me again of my injuries in case I have misunderstood?” she all but commanded.

The doctor looked round for some way to escape. He wanted to be anywhere but in the room with her. “I think it would be better if you talked with His Grace.”

“And I want you to tell me—now.”

“You are putting me in a very awkward position. His Grace—”

“His Grace is not here, and am I not the patient?” At his nod, she said, “Then you must tell your patient what she wishes to know. You are obliged to do so, are you not?”

“Of course, but perhaps we should wait for His Grace to be here with you.”

That is when Marisa knew she would not like what the doctor would tell her. The coward in her almost relented, and it was on the tip of her tongue to agree to wait for Maitland. She couldn't wait. The woman in her wanted to know, wanted to know so badly she was prepared to face what she knew was dark news on her own.

“From the look on your face and the fact you want my husband here, I already know what you have to tell me is not good news. Please, tell me.” She left her bed and took a chair by the fire. Dr. Colbert followed and sank into the chair on a sigh.

“I was told a splinter of wood pierced my stomach. What else was I not told?” She gripped the sides of her chair, lying to herself. She knew what he would tell her. She wasn't a stupid woman, but until the words passed his lips she could still hope.

“The crash caused you to miscarry. Dr. Colbert says the pregnancy was very early.”