Edith Layton (16 page)

Wycoff frowned. “Then who’s accompanying you? My dear, you can’t check into the finest hotel in London by yourself.”

“I won’t. I have Jamie,” she said. “My brother-in-law will come collect us when he gets word of our arrival. I don’t have money to throw around, nor do I care to hire an unknown female to companion me for a matter of days.” Before he could argue, she put out a gloved hand. “I see the captain is making his farewells; it must be time to leave. Good day then, my lord.”

He took her hand in his, and bowed slightly. “Good day then, Lucy, and a fair life to you, my dear.”

He stood at the rail, watching her leave. She made pretty farewells to the other passengers, and stayed a while as Captain Kelly poured flattery into her ears. She laughed back at him. Wycoff watched, nothing in his face moving but his eyes. She wore a blue pelisse to match her own eyes, and a charming bonnet shaped like a coal scuttle, denying him a look at her profile.

She looked so precise and well turned out. He remembered far more than he saw of her today. He remembered how lush her body had been. How it had looked to him naked in the night. How it felt against his own. Her breasts, so firm and high, only the widened ruddy halos around her nipples testifying to the fact that she’d borne a child. Her rounded hips, soft belly and bottom, the skin over all stretched satin smooth. The heat of her. The scent of heliotrope, soap, and female excitement. He’d made love to more beautiful women with more perfect bodies. Younger ones, more experienced ones—he damned himself for the parade of bodies he could compare hers to. But none compared to her as she’d been with him last night.

Because he never forgot who he held. Who was welcoming him with such sighs, then muted cries. She made the other women he’d known into no more than remembered exercises. And even less than the attempts at forgetfulness they’d been. It was bright
impetuous Lucy giving herself to him. He’d rejoiced in it. But then, in the midst of the wonder of it, he’d ruined it all. He’d started wondering why. He was too clever not to know. And too proud not to care.

Damn his pride, and his past and future too, he thought now, his hand trembling on the ship’s rail. He closed it to a fist. Let her go then. Let her find a younger man. A man she could love with an undivided heart. He was, perhaps, as sullied as she thought him. She was no fool; if she were, he wouldn’t care so much. Better for her then, to let him go.

He’d thought he’d found his salvation and future in her. But perhaps she was righter than he knew. He’d gone to America to find a second wife, a counterfeit one to live with in secret. He’d been given a chance to find a real wife instead, and thought he had. But his past intentions, as well as his whole past, had filthied that future. A man could, he supposed, so befoul himself that only God could forgive him. Lucy was too human to be remotely godlike. That was why he’d loved her.

He’d loved her?

Well, and so what of it? he thought in despair. He scarcely deserved her. Let her go. He’d go on his way, whatever that might be. There were lands he hadn’t seen. The compass had four directions. He hadn’t traveled to all the ends of the earth yet.

“Mrs. Stone is leaving us?” Perkins asked, from his side. “I’d thought we might accompany her to her lodgings, since it is evident Mrs. Oliver has already gone off on her own.”

“Mrs. Stone is leaving us, on her own, too. She prefers it that way. And who am I to disagree?”

“You are the Viscount Wycoff, my lord. A gentleman of breeding and discrimination. Mrs. Stone is alone in London now. I’d thought you would…”

“Damn it, man!” Wycoff said in a harsh whisper. “She doesn’t want me. I offered. She refused. Because of my past. You of all men know exactly what that is. Can you blame her? There’s an end to it. Let it be.” He took a breath and tried for control again. “I’ve been thinking. We’ve not seen the Russias yet. When we get to shore, make inquiries.”

“I’d thought we’d rest in England a spell, my lord. I was quite looking forward to it.”

“What?” Wycoff said, distractedly, trying to get a last glimpse of Lucy as she walked down the long wharf to the land. “I thought you were mad for travel.”

“So I was,” Perkins answered, following his gaze, “but travel is only good for diversion. One must have something to be diverted from or it palls, in time. Still, if that’s your desire, so it will be. Only, I’d thought—if I may be presumptuous enough to comment?”

“Comment,” Wycoff muttered, “and be done with it.”

“Well, then, my lord, I’d thought Mrs. Stone unhappy at parting with you. And your past, if I may make so bold, is passed, is it not?”

“She doesn’t think so,” Wycoff said.

“And because she doesn’t, you do not? Odd. I’d
thought you a man of firm mind and purpose. Of course, Mrs. Stone wouldn’t know that, having not known you very long, after all. But I do. And I believe you can do whatever you choose to do. Even convince her of that, if you’d a mind to, that is. That is, if you considered it important enough. But if not…” He shrugged.

“I’m too old for her anyway,” Wycoff said bleakly.

“Indeed? But as I recall, the young woman who sent us to America in the first place was
much
younger still.”

“So she was. But I thought Miss Giles needed me,” Wycoff said impatiently. “I thought she’d no one else to turn to.”

“Oh. I see. And Mrs. Stone has? Mr. Bellows, perhaps? Or some English suitor she might happen upon, who would want a widow with small means and some thirty odd years in her plate, with a young son to raise? Yes, doubtless she’ll easily find a younger, wealthier, more intelligent fellow. One who will love her more, and give her more. Of course, then it makes perfect sense. I’ll see to bookings for the Russias immediately we set foot on land.”

Wycoff shook his head. “Perkins, you rogue. Thank you. But I’ll not go where I’m not wanted. I’ll see my children, and we’ll be off again.”

“My lord, if I may say?”

Wycoff shrugged. “You may. Go on. I won’t have any peace until you’re done.”

The older man’s bland face didn’t change expression. But his voice softened. “I’ve never found you to be anything but honest and loyal to me, and I am only your servant. I think you are thus with anyone you care for. An honorable man. Pray do not look at me with such contempt, my lord. Those females—that life you led—none of it had anything to do with your heart, or your word of honor. So why should it influence your future, or Mrs. Stone’s? But I prattle. Because well as I know you, I know if there was something you really wanted, you’d never give up trying for it.”

“Once upon a time,” Wycoff said softly.

“Yes, my lord. But it would be tedious trying to get a ship bound for the Russias to turn ’round again.”

“It would mean using guile, leverage, and all my influence, and even so, it may be in vain,” his master said hopelessly. “I’d have to remake my life—no difficulty there. But redeem myself in her eyes? And the eyes of society? More easily change society itself. And who’s to say it’s for the best even if I succeeded? I’m getting too old for this.”

“And she is getting younger, I do see.”

“Enough! Have done!” Wycoff said, a muscle working in his jaw. He silenced Perkins so he could concentrate on seeing the last of her, far below and away from him, as she stepped into a hackney coach and slowly rode away.

I
’d like a room, please, for my son and myself,” Lucy said.

The reception clerk looked at her as though she was asking for alms. He made a poor pretense of looking through the register and shook his head. “I’m afraid we cannot accommodate you,” he said.

Lucy bit her lip. Her voice had sounded apologetic even to her own ears. But she was as awed by the hotel as it clearly was not by her. It was as hushed as a cathedral and had a ceiling almost as high. The cavernous lobby made her feel like a child, and a not very privileged one, at that. The furnishings were so rich she felt shabby. The other guests she saw made the furnishings fade to the background. They were in the first stare of fashion. Lucy was in her best traveling costume, very elegant for
the Ames Hotel—not good enough for a servant here.

Too late, she understood why Wycoff had been shocked because she planned to go to the hotel by herself. The only females who came here without a husband, father, companion, or attendant in tow,
were
servants. But it was where she’d been instructed to go. She hated feeling inferior, especially since she knew she’d be considered such here. But she’d been a squire’s daughter before she was an impecunious widow. She straightened her spine and took a fiercer grip on Jamie’s hand.

“Indeed?” she said haughtily. “Curious. My brother-in-law told me to come here straight from the ship I arrived on, take rooms, and send to him once I had done. However, if you haven’t a room I’ll look for lodgings elsewhere. Lord Hunt will doubtless be dismayed at having brought me to such a pass. I’ll write to tell him you couldn’t accommodate his wishes. I doubt he’ll be pleased. Good afternoon,” she added lightly, as though finding rooms in London were a thing she did every day by herself.

“Lord Hunt?” the clerk asked quickly. “The baron Hunt? Of Folkestone?”

“Yes,” Lucy said.

“You had only to say his name when you first appeared, madam. Will you sign the register please? Or perhaps since you’ve just arrived in London and are surely weary, we can take care of that formality later? Please, come this way. Your luggage is in your carriage?”

She’d paid the hackney driver as soon as he’d stopped in front of the hotel, fearing a moment more would have cost her. “My luggage is at the door,” Lucy said grandly, wishing she had better luggage.

She held Jamie’s hand and followed the clerk up the staircase to the first level, and her room. When they got there, she’d lost her breath, not from the climb. This wasn’t merely a room; they were
rooms
, a suite big as a whole house.

The clerk showed her the sitting room, her bedchamber, and Jamie’s. Lucy’s composure faltered when he showed her yet another room. “This is for your maidservant,” he said. “May I inquire when she is expected?”

Never
, Lucy thought, and hastily invented. “I’ve sent her ahead. Yes, this will do,” she added, to stop his questions. She went to look out the window instead of watching them bring in her cases. Then she gave out coins to the porters, nodded at the clerk, and waited for them to shut the door behind them as they left.

She sank to a chair. “
My God!
” she breathed. “Would you
look
at this place, Jamie? You could move a whole family in here. Oh my! I hope your papa’s brother is paying for it because if he isn’t, we’ll be working here for the rest of our lives!”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Jamie said, prowling the huge anteroom, stopping to inspect the contents of the huge bowl of fresh fruit. “You said ‘God,’ you know,” he added reproachfully.

“So I did, and you’re right, it was wrong of me.
But Jamie! Did you
ever imagine
?”

“It’s big,” Jamie said. “But that don’t make it better.”

“It’s better,” she said, looking at the Turkish carpets on the polished floors, the fashionable Egyptian-styled chairs, settees, and tables, the mahogany writing desk. “Believe me, it is better.”

Jamie shrugged. “How long will we have to stay here?” he asked, over a mouthful of hothouse peach.

“Until your uncle sends for us,” Lucy said, and frowned.

“Something wrong, Mama?”

“Oh, no,” she said, but she was counting—the number of gowns in her luggage. Bad enough they were homemade. But if the baron didn’t send for them in a week, she’d have worn every last one of them. Twice. And every day meant two meals to pay for—or hopefully only one, if the Pulteney was as generous with breakfast as the Ames had been. Even so, she wondered how long they’d be able to pay for those dinners.

She gazed around the sumptuous apartment of rooms. Only one thing made her glad, in a melancholy way. She’d refused Wycoff and now she began to see more reasons for her having been right to do so. He’d been surprised she was going to stay here. No wonder. This hotel had put her in her place. A place that wasn’t in his world. She’d forgotten how many leagues away it was from her own. She wondered if he’d really been serious about permanence with her.

When she thought of that last night with him she felt equal parts shame and embarrassment. How could she? What had she been thinking of? Well, she knew that. Now any thought of him was quickly followed by a flood of self-disgust. What a foolish, rash thing to have done! But it was over. She had no time for regrets. She was here and had to go on as she’d begun.

First, she wrote the note to her brother-in-law telling him they’d arrived. Only after she’d rung, given the note to a footman, and seen it on its way, did she relax. After unpacking, she bathed, and extracted a promise from Jamie that he’d do the same when she was done. Joy of joys, the hotel had water piped into the bath! Sheer luxury any place, but especially after all that time at sea. She lingered in her bath, luxuriating in it and her new circumstances. The hotel even had modern, indoor water closets. She’d read about them; now she could experience the wonder of that, too. She left the bath chamber to discover yet another wondrous surprise.

There was a knock at the door. Lucy opened it to see the reception clerk, followed by two footmen bearing trays of covered dishes. “Your dinner, madam,” the clerk said. “Compliments of the hotel. We felt you’d be too weary after your journey to come down to dinner tonight.”

“Thank you,” Lucy managed, almost too overwhelmed to speak. The footman put the trays on a table. She swallowed hard when one pulled out a chair for her, and stationed himself behind it. “We
are
weary and would like to relax,” she said. “You may go, we can serve ourselves.” Too much attention was making her as nervous as too little had.

“Ring when it is time to for us remove the dishes.
Bon appetit
,” the clerk said, bowed, and let himself and the footmen out.

“Father’s brother must be a very important man,” Jamie commented, lifting a cover off a silver tureen to inspect a steaming, thick, and savory smelling soup.

“I suppose he is,” Lucy said, sitting at the table. “But when I met him I didn’t think so. We’re more formal about things in England, I suppose. I’d forgotten. And he is a baron now, since his father died. Then, he was just your father’s older brother.”

“But he’s rich,” Jamie said.

“Oh, very,” Lucy said, uncovering a platter of tiny lamb chops, all resplendent in their frilly paper tassels.

“But he isn’t a duke or even a viscount like Lord Wycoff. So how can he be so rich?”

“A title doesn’t have anything to do with money,” she explained, unaware she was smiling as she discovered dish after tempting dish. “Although it does give a person special honor and privileges here in England. It just means some ancestor did something to please a king. There are pauper earls and rich baronets. It’s what the families did with their fortunes over the years that matters.”

“Is Lord Wycoff very rich?” Jamie asked, “As rich as Father’s brother?”

Lucy’s smile faded, remembering what she’d
been trying to forget. “I think so. I don’t know. He doesn’t give himself airs. He could be. It doesn’t matter.”

“Well, I think he must be. He said he’d take me riding, right here in London, because he has stables here. Perkins said he has an estate on a river, too, and boats to sail on it. And a place to hunt in Wales.
And
he has the old Carlisle place, at home. I think he must be much richer. I wish we could have stayed with him.”

“That would be a pretty picture,” Lucy muttered. “Here, don’t use your fingers. Sit down and have a proper dinner.”

Jamie’s curiosity was as sharp as his appetite. “Tell me about my uncle. Does he look like my father? What’s his house like? Is it as grand as this? You never said.”

“You never asked,” she said, tasting a pastry filled with lobster.

“Well, I never really thought I’d be here. But now I am. And I guess we’re going there next and so if it’s going to be like this, I want to know so I know how to act.”

She put down her fork. “You act like yourself,” she said fiercely. She’d been overwhelmed, and she’d lived here and seen such things before. She’d never thought Jamie would be intimidated, too. But he was growing up, more so every day since they’d set out on their journey. Or was it only that she’d seldom spent so much time alone with him before? Work, schooling, and obligations had occupied
them both since the day he’d been born. She’d come to know him better on this journey. If nothing else good came from this, that was enough for her.

She gazed at him. He was outgrowing even his newest suit of clothes. His face was growing leaner, his freckles blended into the golden tan he’d got from all those hours on deck in the salt spray and sunshine. Only a few more years, maybe months—at his rate of growth—and he’d be a young man. Her heart clenched. But he was still a boy, her boy, her only treasure. She’d protect him from all harm and insult and refused to have him fearful, or feeling as poor and deprived as she did now.

“Your uncle?” she answered. “There was a resemblance, but he didn’t look much like your father. Your father was much more handsome. Like you. He had dark hair and eyes, too, and he was slender. His brother had dark eyes and dark hair, but it was thinning. Your father used to joke that it was the only thing about him that was. But the truth was that though your uncle was the same height as your father, he tended to be stout. He didn’t get much exercise. He’d had weak lungs as a boy, and got out of the habit, I suppose,” she added, anticipating his next question.

“What’s his wife like?”

“I only saw her a few times. She’s pretty, very pretty.”

“Why didn’t you see her more?”

“Because they married soon after I did, and I went to America soon after that.”

“And their house? Where we’ll be staying?”

“Oh, very grand,” she said. “And very old, too. But remember, it’s only filled with things your own ancestors put there. You’ll see for yourself soon enough. Now, stop chattering and start eating. Then we have to get to sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”

“Why?” Jamie asked. “What are we doing?”

Lucy was still. She’d been traveling so long and dreaming of doing it for even longer. Now that she was here she realized she had nothing to do—but wait. And she’d done that for far too long.

She pasted a smile on her lips. “You’ll see,” she said mysteriously. And hoped she would.

But morning brought only sunshine to flood their rooms. Lucy stood in front of a looking glass feeling alone and unsure, anxious and uncertain.

Wycoff had claimed more than her desire through the long voyage. He’d taken up all her attention. She missed him now. And not just his kisses. With all that had happened that embarrassing night, much had happened between them before that. He’d been a friend and not just a suitor. She certainly needed a friend right now.

Jamie was itching to see London. Lucy was hesitant. She’d got a glimpse of the avenues they’d passed on the way here from the docks. It was overwhelming. London was bigger, busier and more crowded than she remembered. This part of town
had wider avenues, thronged with better dressed people than she’d seen in a long time. One thing she knew. A lady didn’t venture out into the streets unescorted, and she didn’t even look like a lady the way she was dressed. Her walking dress was simple and flattering, light green with a dark green overskirt, and pretty embroidery at the sleeves and hem. She had a pretty shawl to throw overall, and her best straw bonnet, too. The effect was charming—but cheap and homemade, and wouldn’t everyone in this hotel know it? Her shoulders drooped.

Jamie was waiting.

At least they could go to breakfast and make it last a long time while she decided what to dare. Maybe there’d be an answer from Lord Hunt, she thought eagerly—before remembering it would take three days to get the message to him and three days for a reply—if he answered right off. But a boy couldn’t spend the day in a hotel room. They’d go for a walk. If people took her for his nurse, so be it. It was for him that she was here. Her pride be…
damned
, she thought militantly, marching to the door.

Lucy’s spirits were raised by more than the excellent breakfast the hotel served. The dining room was quiet, the other guests too well bred to stare, and the food plentiful, delicious—and free to guests. She reckoned they could easily last until tea time without buying another meal. She relaxed and enjoyed herself. Until she put her napkin back on the table.

“Now?” Jamie asked, “Can we go out now?”

She rose, reluctantly. They were headed for the front door when she heard her name called.

“There she is! Lucy!” a so familiar voice called.

Lucy spun around. Her heart leaped. A plump woman, dressed in light silks with a paisley wrap, stood smiling at her. A stylish bonnet covered her hair, but her tremulous smile was apparent.

“
Mama
?” Lucy breathed, incredulous. “Mama!” she shouted, and flew to the woman with her arms outstretched.

They hugged, stood back and gazed at each other and hugged again. Finally, Lucy stepped away and beckoned Jamie nearer. “Here is your grandson, Mama,” she said proudly. “Jamie, this is your grandmama.”