Regency Innocents (25 page)

Charles could not seriously expect her to remember the names of an entire regiment of household staff? Could he? Never mind the additional brigade of grooms and gardeners.

‘And now I shall conduct you and your personal maid to your suite of rooms, my lady,' Mrs Lanyon intoned. ‘There will just be time to refresh yourself and change for dinner,' she added, sweeping up the dark oak staircase. ‘We have held it back against your arrival on this one occasion, although normally, of course, we do not keep town hours at Wycke.'

Heloise meekly followed, mortifyingly aware of the staff nudging each other and whispering behind their hands.

‘I trust this is to your satisfaction, my lady?' Mrs Lanyon said, upon showing her into a set of rooms on the second floor.

‘I am sure it is,' Heloise replied, loosening the ribbons of her bonnet. There had been something in the woman's tone that almost dared her to make any criticism. ‘If you would show me where I may wash?'

Mrs Lanyon led the way across what Heloise had to admit was a very pretty, feminine sitting room, and opened a door. ‘Your dressing room.'

‘What a lovely washstand,' Heloise said inanely.

The top was of pink-veined marble. Standing upon its gleaming surface was a floral-patterned washing set, comprising ewer and basin, and a dish holding a cake of soap sculpted into the shape of a rose. Pristine linen sheets were draped in readiness over a free-standing towel rail.

‘I shall feel so much better after a wash,' she said,
removing her bonnet and unbuttoning her spencer in the hope that Mrs Lanyon would take the hint and leave her in peace.

‘Shall I send up some refreshments?'

‘A glass of lemonade would be very welcome.'

‘Lemonade,' Mrs Lanyon echoed faintly. Then, as though pulling herself together, ‘If that is what you wish …'

‘It is,' Heloise insisted, barely resisting the urge to stamp her foot. It had been a horrible day. Charles had been in one of his most unapproachable moods all day, the coach had been hot and stuffy, making the journey extremely uncomfortable, and she had discovered that her husband was not just Charles at all, but a man as important and influential as a French
seigneur
. This woman's thinly veiled disappointment in her new mistress was the last straw.

Only when she heard the door shut behind her did she permit herself to sink onto a striped day bed and toe off her sweat-stained pumps.

‘Oh, Sukey,' she groaned, pressing her fingers to her throbbing temples. ‘Did you ever see such a place? Or so many servants?'

‘No, my lady,' she agreed, in a voice that was slightly muffled since she was peering into the wardrobe. ‘Shall I pour the water for your wash now?' she asked, shutting it, and running her hand reverently over the beautifully carved door panels.

‘You had better,' Heloise replied, prising herself from the sofa and padding to the dressing room in her stockinged feet. ‘I dare not be late for dinner. You heard what that woman said. “We don't keep town hours at Walton.'”

Sukey giggled as Heloise imitated the woman's voice almost perfectly.

‘What shall I lay out for you to wear?'

‘Whatever looks the least crumpled,' Heloise replied as Sukey went to work on the hooks of her gown. ‘Oh, that feels so much better,' she sighed, as she peeled gown and stays from her perspiring body.

It felt better still to sponge herself all over with cool, delicately scented water. When she went back into the sitting room, wrapped only in a linen bath sheet, she found a tray containing lemonade and a plate of freshly baked biscuits on a little occasional table. Both were delicious, and very welcome.

‘I've laid out that light yellow silk gown for dinner,' Sukey said, emerging from another door, which Heloise could see led to a bedchamber. She felt a queer tightening in her middle at the possibility there might be a door somewhere that connected her suite to her husband's rooms, just like in London. Should she ask Sukey? Or just go and look for herself later on? So it would not seem as though she had given the matter any thought?

‘Since it has been such a hot day, I thought you would want something cool to wear.' Sukey explained her choice. ‘But I've put the gold silk shawl out as well, in case it gets chilly later on.' She picked up Heloise's hairbrush. ‘Shall I start on your hair while you finish your drink, to save time? And if I bring the plate of biscuits to the dressing table you can carry on eating, too.'

‘A good idea,' said Heloise, settling on the low-backed chair.

‘It's going to take me a month of Sundays to remember the names of all the people who work here,' Sukey muttered through a mouthful of hairpins.

‘Me also,' agreed Heloise with a rueful smile.

‘And have you ever seen so many trees? Not but what we don't have trees in London, but at least they are in nice
straight lines along the side of the road, where they give shade in the summer,' she grumbled, swiftly working the brush through Heloise's tangles. ‘I reckon they must be downright gloomy when it rains.'

‘Do you dislike it so much here?' Just because she was doomed to misery, it was not fair to condemn her maid to the same fate. She felt a flicker of panic. ‘If you want to return to London …'

‘I dare say I will get used to it!' Sukey said hastily. ‘I didn't mean to complain. I'd much rather be a lady's maid, even if it is stuck out here in the middle of all this nothing, than go back to blacking the fires in London!'

‘I don't expect you will go back to blacking fires—not now you've become a lady's maid,' Heloise reproved gently. ‘You have learned to do it so well! At least, I think you have.' She frowned. Then, seeing Sukey's downcast expression in the mirror, she explained, ‘You see, I never had a maid—not before I married Lord Walton. In Paris I shared a room with my sister, and we used to help each other dress and do each other's hair.'

Absentmindedly, she nibbled on a biscuit. She had no experience with servants at all, if truth be told. In London, once she had discovered that Charles disliked her chatting to Giddings as though he were a real person, she had tried to ignore them. They had all helped her by taking care to be as unobtrusive as possible. They had certainly never all stood in one place at the same time, and stared at her as though she was some kind of fairground exhibit. Why had he not warned her they would all turn out to greet her like that? And why had he not told her what she should say? She had seen the expression of disapproval on his face when she had been struck dumb by the onslaught of all that curiosity. And she had felt the scorn emanating
from Mrs Lanyon's stiff back as she had led her way up the stairs.

‘I hope you won't leave me, Sukey,' she said, suddenly reaching for her maid's hand over her shoulder. She needed at least one ally amongst all these strangers.

‘Of course I'll stay. It's not as if we'll be down here for ever, is it? Old Giddings was explaining to me that though His Lordship comes down here regular, he never stays for long. We'll soon be back in town, dressing you for parties and the theatre and the like!'

Charles never stays for long. She sighed, replacing her half-eaten biscuit on the plate. But she doubted very much whether she would ever see London again.

Just when he'd thought the day could not possibly get any worse, Charles discovered dinner had been laid out in the state dining room.

Nothing could have been more daunting to a woman like Heloise. His place was at the head of the table, while she sat at its foot, some twenty feet distant. There was no point in even attempting any sort of conversation.

He barely managed to stifle the irritation that had dogged him all day, reminding himself that the staff had clearly gone to a great deal of trouble to impress his new Countess. The meal was a culinary triumph. And he was sure Mrs Lanyon had not intended to intimidate Heloise the minute she stepped through the front door. It was just, he realised, that his guardians had inaugurated a devilishly formal atmosphere at Wycke. And he had never bothered to dismantle it. When he was in residence his focus was on the land, and his tenants. He did not care enough about household management to bother altering a routine into which he fell without thinking.

He should have given Heloise a hint, though, about how to deal with that welcoming party. He had meant to, but when he had gone out to the coach and seen Robert sitting in it he had been so angry that the only way to avoid an unpleasant scene had been to have his hunter saddled up and claim he preferred to ride in such warm weather. So instead of spending the journey warning Heloise that their housekeeper liked to do things ‘properly', he had flounced off in a right royal huff. He should have been pleased that she had somehow cajoled Robert into finally accepting an invitation to come and view the place where he should have grown up.

All he could think of was that his plans to get Heloise to himself had been ruined. He would have to divide his time between wooing his reluctant bride and initiating his recalcitrant brother into the ways of Wycke. And in giving way to anger he had done them both a disservice. Not only had Heloise's inadvertent recoil offended Mrs Lanyon, but he had not taken sufficient care of a man who was still far from well. It would probably take Robert days to recover from the journey down here.

He rose to his feet when Heloise left the table, morosely noting how swiftly she fled his presence.

He had the devil of a job on his hands with both Heloise and Robert. And, he reflected, gulping down port that should really have been sipped and savoured, he was damned if he knew how to proceed with either of them.

Heloise took the stopper from the perfume bottle she had found on her dressing table and sniffed tentatively. It was floral, but with an underlying hint of musk that was quite sensual. She dabbed a little onto each wrist, and behind her ears. Then, feeling very daring, between her breasts.

She had already dismissed Sukey, claiming with complete honesty that she would not need her any more. For seducing her husband was a thing a woman had to do for herself.

During dinner she'd had ample opportunity to study her distant spouse and form a plan. He seemed very much at home here, in this house that ran with the precision of a clockwork toy. He was not the sort of man to break any habit he had formed without good reason. So she could probably expect him to come and bid her goodnight.

Gazing along the length of polished mahogany that had symbolised the vast gulf that separated them, she had noted that he was able to enjoy the meal for which she had little appetite. He was a healthy man in his prime, with healthy appetites—at least one of which had not been met since they had married, so far as she could tell. And they were miles from anywhere. And he was not the sort of man to dally with the housemaids.

Which was why she had got Sukey to fetch her most revealing nightdress under the pretext that it was a very sultry night. And doused herself with the only perfume she could lay her hands on.

Finally, with great daring, she arranged herself in what she hoped was a seductive pose on top of the covers.

And waited nervously for Charles to come to her.

It was hard to resist the instinctive desire to preserve her modesty by pulling the covers over herself when she heard the knock that presaged his arrival. Her sense of vulnerability increased when he strode into the room fully dressed.

His reaction was not what she had hoped for either. He glanced only briefly to where she knew her nipples were just visible through the filmy fabric of her nightgown, then, his jaw tightening, fixed his eyes firmly on her face.

‘I must apologise,' he said, sitting on the chair beside her bed and crossing his legs as though he had not noticed she was barely decent, ‘for the reception you received from the staff. Mrs Lanyon meant well. I was remiss in not preparing you for the formality with which things are done here,' he added, thinking of the dreadful atmosphere at dinner. ‘Mrs Lanyon has ruled the roost for a long time.'

Far too long. It was well past time some changes were made. Mrs Lanyon presided over the routine his guardians had inaugurated. But he could remember that Wycke had had a far more relaxed, happy atmosphere when his father had been alive.

‘I hope you will make whatever changes you feel are necessary to make this a comfortable home.'

Heloise bit her lower lip. Before they had married he had told her that his staff were efficient, and that he did not want her altering anything. That had been before he had discovered she was such a liability he would not be able to tolerate living in the same household. That he was now granting her permission to make whatever changes she wished here at Wycke, so that she could be relatively comfortable in her exile, was a generous concession on his part.

‘You must be tired,' he said. ‘It's been the devil of a day.'

He kissed her swiftly, and left so abruptly he might just as well have slapped her.

It was only after he had gone that she worked out what she should have done. When he had bent to kiss her she should have put her arms about his neck and kissed him back. Not on the lips, she had not the courage to be so brazen. For if he had recoiled from such a kiss she would have died of the humiliation. But she could have given him an affectionate peck on the cheek. She frowned. Though he had warned her he did not like displays of affection.

Oh, damn the man! She knelt up and flung a pillow at the door through which he had retreated. Then buried her face in her hands. The barriers which separated them were impenetrable. Especially since he bolstered them every way he could. She should just give up before she totally humiliated herself.

Charles' mood the next morning was even blacker than it had been the night before. Heloise had looked so tempting, lying on her bed in that confection of lace and moonbeams, that it had been all he could do to keep his hands off her. The wary look on her face had reminded him just in time what a disaster that would have been. The speech he had spent so long carefully preparing had evaporated like morning mist at the sudden hot flare of lust he'd had to disguise by sitting down quickly, crossing his legs, and clasping his hands in his lap.