Sins of Omission (21 page)

“No, I don’t believe it,” I conceded grudgingly, “but it still hurts to hear it.”

Hugo kissed me gently and held me for a moment, his lips against my ear.  “Neve, I’m not a man who goes from woman to woman; I think you know that.  It’s not easy for me to give my heart to someone, but when I do, I do it completely.  You are my love, now and forever, and I will cherish you till the day I die.  You are the only person I trust, and I hope you trust me.  I would lay down my life for you and Valentine, and would be glad to do it if it were required.  Now, please, give me a smile and tell me that I’m forgiven.”

“Forgiven for what?” I asked suspiciously.

“Forgiven for putting you in this unbearable situation.  Having known modern life, I can only imagine how foreign all this is to you, but it must be endured for the sake of our future.  Just a little longer, my sweet.”

“All right, you are forgiven,” I relented as I tried not to smile, but couldn’t help it; he looked too forlorn.  “And how in the world do you plan to quash this malicious rumor?”

“It’s already done,” he replied sheepishly.  “It just needs a few hours to take root.  In the meantime, let’s give them something to talk about.  Adjust your skirts and pat your hair just as we approach the terrace,” Hugo instructed.

“Why?”

“Because they will think that I just took you behind a bush.  No husband wants to have an assignation with his own wife, so tongues will wag,” he added with a grin, happy to be forgiven.

“I hate this world, Hugo,” I said with feeling as I took his arm and allowed him to lead me back toward the palace which looked magical in the colorful light of a thousand lanterns.

“Me too.”  But I wasn’t so sure that he wasn’t enjoying the game just a little.

Frances took the proffered seat and gazed down the length of the table to where Lady Everly was sitting between two middle-aged gentlemen.  Neve appeared calm, but her back was rigid, and her eyes glassy as she stared at the still empty stage with forced concentration, which led Frances to believe that Neve was upset about something.  She was missing Valentine desperately and longed to go home, so by this last stretch of the festivities Neve was likely vibrating with frustration.  Frances wished that she could offer Neve words of comfort, but there was little she could do for Neve from her end of the long table.  Hopefully, the play would help distract Neve and help her get through the rest of the evening.  Neve had mentioned earlier that she was looking forward to the performance.  Frances had never been to the theater, so this would be her first exposure to the dramatic arts, but at times, she found watching the people around her more entertaining than anything the actors could dish up.  She allowed her gaze to slide over the table.

Lord Everly was talking quietly to a beautiful brunette seated next to him.  The woman was only a few years older than Frances, but she had a well-practiced sensuality about her, which led Frances to believe that innocence was something the woman could barely recall.  She was nothing more than a courtesan, if gossip was to be believed, no doubt seated next to Lord Everly for the sole purpose of eliciting a reaction of some sort.  After only a few days at Court, Frances realized that nothing was random, and every seating arrangement, every performance, and every look were intentional and well thought out by someone working behind the scenes.  What happened on stage was only part of the entertainment; the best bits took place off-stage.

Hugo was nodding politely and smiling at something the lady said, but his eyes were on his wife; not quite worried, but watchful.  Neve had not had an easy time of it these past few days, but Hugo couldn’t afford to show sympathy or support openly, especially since he was purposely kept away from Neve at all times.  The barely noticeable tension in his shoulders and the tightness in his jaw allowed Frances a glimpse into how worried he really was, and she felt a wave of tenderness toward her guardian, knowing that he was struggling behind the smooth facade.  He loved Neve with a fierceness that left Frances hoping that someone would love her like that, but even with her limited experience of men, she knew that kind of love was rare, especially among the nobility where most marriages were arranged based on rank, wealth, and social position.  Neve had come to Hugo with nothing, but he didn’t seem to care.  He only wanted her.

  Frances’s eyes drifted down the table toward Luke.  He was conversing with an older woman who seemed to be hanging on his every word.  Luke’s eyes met Frances’s for a moment, and he smiled just for her before turning his attention back to his dinner companion.  Frances looked away, and tried to focus on what the heavily rouged and bewigged gentleman next to her was saying.  He was asking her something about the plays of Moliere, but she’d never even heard of the famed French playwright until today, so just pretended to be interested when her mind was really on Luke and their earlier encounter. 

Frances was glad when the meal was finally at an end and barely suppressed anticipation rippled through the guests.  The candles were blown out by the numerous lackeys, and all conversation ceased as the curtains parted to reveal the stage, the play starting at last.  Frances tried to concentrate on what the actors were saying, but her French was still rudimentary, so she was quickly lost, failing to grasp the meaning of the double entendres.  Everyone seemed to be enjoying the performance, which was eliciting gasps and bursts of laughter.  The king seemed to be enraptured as he gazed at the stage, clapping like a child when he was pleased.  Frances continued to look at the stage, but with no conversation to concentrate on, she allowed her mind to wander.

**

With Lord and Lady Everly both occupied, Frances had more freedom than she’d ever had in her life, which was as frightening as it was liberating.  All these people were fawning over her, paying her compliments, and inviting her to walk and talk with them, join them for a game of cards, or simply for a gossip.  She knew nothing of Court affairs, but tried to be as polite and charming as she could.  Of course, Luke had been her savior.  He was always on hand; ready to help her out when she was out of her depth.  Frances was grateful for his timely interruptions and invitations to take a stroll through the gardens.  Of course, Luke had his own agenda, as Frances soon found out.  A stroll in the ornamental garden turned into a walk in the wooded park where privacy could be found if one were looking for some.  Luke had drawn her off the path and into the trees where they could be completely alone for the first time since their acquaintance.

“I’ve dreamed of being alone with you since the moment I first saw you,” Luke confided as he smiled into her eyes and moved closer to her, forcing Frances to take a step back.  “I feel as nervous as a boy,” he said with a shy smile as he took her hand in his warm ones.  “You’re cold.”

“I’m nervous,” Frances replied, meaning it.  She was terrified.  She hadn’t been alone with any man besides her husband and Archie, and she wasn’t at all sure how to behave.  She liked Luke, and she trusted him, but although Luke was still his charming self, something had changed in the past few weeks, something that put Frances on her guard.  Perhaps she was being overly sensitive, but she’d been courted by Lionel, who had been a perfect gentleman while he wooed her, but turned into an abusive, cruel master as soon as they were wed.  Frances learned the hard way that trust was not to be given lightly.  Luke was gazing at Frances with undisguised adoration, but she drew back ever so slightly in a subconscious attempt at self-preservation.

“Please, don’t be afraid, Frances.  I only want to make you happy.  If you wish to go back to the terrace, we can go right now,” Luke offered, but his eyes were pleading with her to stay, and she gave in to his boyish charm.  If Lord Everly trusted Luke, then she had no cause for concern, Frances concluded as she allowed some of the tension to leave her body.

“No, let’s wait a few minutes,” Frances said, gratified to see the joy in Luke’s eyes.  “To be honest, I’m a little overwhelmed by all those people.  I feel as if they are staring at me as if I were a curiosity of some sort.”

“But you are.  You are the most beautiful woman here, and they are green with envy,” Luke replied.  Frances wasn’t sure if he were being honest with her or still playing the role of the simpering courtier.  Flattery was the most valuable currency at Versailles, and the better flatterer you were, the more you could hope to gain in terms of favor and sexual conquests.

“There are plenty of beautiful women out there, Luke, with Lady Everly being one of them,” Frances answered a trifle too defensively.  She’d heard the comments about Neve, and felt an overwhelming desire to punch out anyone who said anything disparaging about her friend.

“Neve is very beautiful, but she’s taken, and you are not.  Are you?” he asked, suddenly serious.

“You know I’m not.  Why would you ask such a thing?”

“I’ve heard some disturbing rumors,” Luke replied seriously.  “People are saying that you are Hugo’s mistress.” 

Frances just gaped at him, amazed that he would give credence to such a blatant lie, especially since he was one of Lord Everly’s oldest friends.  “How dare you?” she fumed, stomping her foot in anger.  “Hugo Everly is the most honorable, brave, and caring man I’ve ever met, and he would never, you hear me, never do anything to dishonor Lady Everly.  He genuinely loves her, something you clearly know nothing about.  Take me back this instant,” Frances demanded, but for some reason she hadn’t moved.  Perhaps she wanted to hear Luke beg for her forgiveness, or perhaps she was suddenly too mortified to return to a gathering where everyone believed her to be a cheap strumpet who would sleep with her guardian right under the nose of his wife, who was her closest friend in the world, and the woman who made her believe that it was possible to make one’s own choices for the future.  Frances would sooner die than do anything to hurt either Neve or Hugo, but she supposed Luke had no way of knowing that.  There was much she kept from him, so all he saw was the image of innocence she projected to the world, and especially to him.

“I’m sorry,
cherie
,” Luke murmured, drawing her closer.  “I was just overcome with jealousy.  Forgive me.  Please,” he breathed into her ear, making her forget her outrage.  “You are so incredibly beautiful that any man would be mad with lust if he had to share a house with you, even Hugo, but I know that he is an honorable man and would never stoop so low.  It’s just that I know so little about you.  You are an enigma to be solved.”

Luke’s gaze was full of expectation.  Did he expect her to just blurt out some shameful secret? Frances wondered as she looked at him.  She supposed he had a right to know something about her if they were to continue their courtship, but Lord Everly had warned her to reveal as little as possible.  What happened to her in England was no one’s business, and although Hugo never said so outright, her past experiences diminished her value on the marriage market a great deal.  But Luke was so kind to her, and so trusting.  Perhaps he had a right to know a little more.

“Luke, this is not common knowledge, but I was married before,” Frances murmured.  She expected him to be shocked, but Luke just stood there with his head tilted to the side, watching her intently and silently.

“I hope that doesn’t change the way you feel about me,” Frances said, thinking she should have just kept quiet.

“Is your husband still living?” Luke asked carefully.  His expression was inscrutable as he continued to watch Frances.

“No, he’s dead, so I am free to marry again,” Frances replied, watching Luke for any sign of disappointment.  He expected her to be a virgin, so her revelation could very well have just put an end to their courtship, but Luke didn’t appear shocked or disgusted.  Instead, there was relief in his eyes which Frances didn’t quite understand.  It’s as if he already knew, and wanted to hear it from her.   

“Nothing can change the way I feel about you, Frances,” Luke replied softly.  “You have every reason to be apprehensive, but I swear to you that should you accept my suit, I will be the most attentive and devoted husband you could ever wish for.  I would never lay a hand on you in anger, or treat you with disrespect.  I have asked Hugo for your hand in marriage, but he doesn’t wish you to rush into anything.  I will wait as long as it takes as long as I know that I have a chance.  Do I dare hope?”

Frances averted her eyes for a moment, suddenly unsure of the answer.  To tell Luke that he had hope was as good as agreeing to marry him, but although she genuinely liked him, it was Archie’s face she saw before she fell asleep at night, and Archie’s voice she listened for when she woke up.  But Archie didn’t want her; he’d made that clear enough.  Nor would Lord Everly approve of Archie as a potential suitor.  He wanted better for Frances; a man who would give her financial security and social standing.  Lord Everly was the closest thing she had to a father, and he seemed to favor Luke.  Did she dare to disappoint him?

“Yes, Luke, you may hope, but I need some time,” Frances finally replied.  She knew she was doing the right thing, but she still felt unsure.  Her answer bought her time, which is what she needed most.  She was only fifteen, for the love of God, she fumed to herself, not ready to sign her life away once again.  For the first time in her life, she felt safe and cared for, a part of a loving family.  Agreeing to marry anyone would tear her away from the people she loved, and she wasn’t ready to leave the Everlys, not yet.  Hugo wasn’t putting any pressure on her to marry; in fact, he was advising her to wait, so there was no reason to accept Luke’s proposal just yet.

She gazed up shyly at Luke, who seemed satisfied with her answer.  The sun filtered through the trees and dappled his face with light, making it almost glow with happiness.  Luke bent down and brushed his lips against her ear, then moved down to her neck.  His lips were feather-light against her skin, tasting and kissing her at the same time.  He held her loosely, so she wouldn’t feel threatened, and continued his sensual exploration.  Frances gasped as Luke kissed her breast, running his tongue along the top of her stiffened bodice.  Frances shivered with pleasure, instinctively arching her back to lift her breasts higher. 

Luke kissed the other breast and lifted his face to kiss her in earnest.  The kiss was tender, almost worshipful, which made Frances lean into him and wrap her arms around his neck for a deeper kiss.  Luke didn’t disappoint.  He crushed her against him and slid his tongue into her mouth, exploring her with a passion that was no longer held in check.  With anyone else, Frances might have been scared, but she trusted Luke, so she gave herself up to the moment, savoring the kiss and mentally comparing it to Archie’s. 

The two men were different physically and emotionally, but she recognized the same intensity in Luke as she had felt in Archie.  It was a barely suppressed longing, held in check only by the rules of propriety and the constraints of time.  Luke suddenly broke the kiss and bent down, sliding his hand beneath her voluminous skirts.  Frances stiffened with shock as his fingers caressed the bare flesh above her beribboned stockings and then slid further up to the cleft between her legs.  She wanted to push him away, to chastise him for taking such liberties, but her knees buckled as Luke expertly caressed her, and she rested her forehead on his shoulder, moaning with unexpected pleasure.  No one had ever touched her like this, and although she knew it was wrong, she liked it, and wanted more.