The Convenient Bride (11 page)

“Oh, how wonderful. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Lucy blushed, feeling like a fool for accepting his congratulations but she could hardly let the world know that her marriage was in tatters, could she? She didn’t have much left but she still had her pride. “And have you enjoyed the Season?”

“Music, dancing and pretty girls, what is not to like?”

They chatted amiably for quite a while and Lucy found herself being charmed by this man’s easy nature. She soon learned that he was the son of Baron Gibson, a well-respected family, that he was in London for the Season and quite by surprise, she found herself inviting him to the first gathering they were having at the estate, a garden party to celebrate summer, though the guests were free to stay for a few weeks.

He readily
accepted and when he eventually left, Lucy felt much happier than she had for the past few days. Just talking about things that had nothing to do with Max and her recent loss was a very pleasant respite for her. Although she wasn’t attracted to him, she could appreciate Giles’ charm and affable nature and hoped that he might become a friend. She could use someone like him in her life.

***

Max was brooding in the rear parlour the next morning, wondering what he could do to repair his marriage and bring Lucy back to him.

Lucy had left to go to the orphanage, leaving him all alone with his thoughts for the day. He didn’t know what to do to help her. Everyone he spoke to said to give her time but Max could almost literally feel her distancing herself from him, inch by painful inch. It took all his willpower not to simply grab her and
hold on for dear life. He wanted to say that she couldn’t go to the orphanage again but she had reacted so strongly when he had suggested it, that he knew it would only cause a larger rift if he insisted.

She had tol
d him about the visit from Giles yesterday, although only in very general terms. She seemed to like the fellow however, and that made Max more jealous that he was comfortable with.

Harris knocked and entered then, telling him that Madam
Poisson was here to see him.

Max sighed, not looking forward to seeing her again. His breeches did
seem to tighten however, as he considered using her to vent some of his frustration, just as he had done so very many times in the past.

It was wrong though and he couldn’t use her in
that way any longer, nor could he betray Lucy.

“Marie?” H
e smiled as she entered but couldn’t find the will to rise.

She came in, her large skirt bustling around her as she bent to kiss his cheek.

“Max, darling, how are you?”

“I’m fine,” he smiled.

“You don’t look fine. In fact, you look miserable.”

Max nodded
; she wasn’t wrong.

“Lucy took a fall last week, she… she lost our child.”

The shock on Marie’s face was real, although she managed to hide her pleasure at that revelation.

She hadn’t known about the baby but now that she did, she was thrilled. Her little scheme couldn’t have worked out any better than it already had.

“I’m so sorry, my darling. How is Lucy?”

“Devastated,” he answered truthfully, though he couldn’t say if it was with losing the baby or him.

“You poor baby, having to deal with her pain while you must also be grieving.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at her, please
d that someone was thinking of him in all this. So far everyone’s concern had been for Lucy alone.

To his surprise, she didn’t try to tem
pt him into sex, nor even kiss him, other than his cheek when she arrived, she just sat there and listened as he told her all about his problems. How Lucy was so cold and unfeeling towards him now, and how he was beginning to lose hope that she would return to the warm woman that he used to know.

She said all the right things, assuring him that she just needed time and until Lucy did recover, Max was more than welcome to talk to her about his problems. He thanked her and suddenly
remembered that he hadn’t even thought about contacting any of his friends in the theatre, to see about getting her an acting job. She really was a good friend to him and he should have tried to help her

After she had gone, he had time to reflect on the two women in his life, the one who wanted him and his wife, who seemingly didn’t any more.

On the surface, Marie and Lucy were completely different. Lucy was all about duty and responsibility, doing her best to live up to her dead parents’ legacies. Marie was full of fire and passion and spontaneity.

Max
however, felt that both personas were, to some extent at least, an act.

Lucy could be fun and spontaneous, and she had certainly matched him in the bedroom, perhaps the only place when she felt free
of Society’s constraints and able to be herself.

On the other hand
, he would bet good money that Marie wasn’t nearly so carefree as she would have him believe. She wasn’t French, that much he knew but as to who she really was, he had little idea.

She was being who she thought
gentlemen wanted her to be, every bit as much as Lucy was trying to prove that’s she was worthy of her inheritance.

He knew Lucy in a way that he could never know Marie though, for he had known Lucy since before she felt the burden of her estate. Even as a child, she had never exactly been carefree
, Society women (even future Society women) weren’t allowed to be, but she had always possessed an adventurous spirit, and it had never been too difficult for him to talk her into accompanying him on some mischief. Nor had she ever judged him for his antics, no matter how poorly the rest of Society might view them.

Until she began managing her inheritance that is, a
burden he blamed his father for placing on her shoulders. She was a young woman, she should have been free to choose her own future, free to spend her time drawing and socialising or helping at the orphanage, leaving the care of her estate to his father and her future husband.

Then he realised that he was her husband, and
until she had begun to teach him, he’d had no clue how to manage her estate at all.

Reluctantly, he had to admit that perhaps his father had been right.

***

When Lucy arrived back home, she
stopped into the parlour to greet Max, as a good wife should, and her nose was immediately assaulted with the scent of lavender and musk.

She
had been here.

Lucy quickly excused herself and went to her room. She approached the window and looked out on the small garden at the rear of the house.

The day was so beautiful, bright sunshine and hardly a cloud to mar the bright blue sky. The flowers were blooming a riot of beautiful, rich colours and the birds were singing their sweet melodies.

None of it touched Lucy’s heart though. To her, the world felt as barren as an icy
wasteland and as much as she wanted to feel the warmth of the sun on her skin and be charmed by the birdsong, she knew that such things couldn’t touch her heart at the moment.

Abruptly she turned away from the window and found her sketch book. Keeping her back to the window, she began to let her pain out onto the page, drawing the baby
that she would never have, Max and Marie in passionate embraces, their illegitimate children in their arms as they smiled at each other. Then she drew only Max, his features as handsome as ever but distorted slightly, to make him look demonic and evil.

She knew that she wasn’t being fair to him but at least this way, she could release some of her feelings
, without ever needing to tell anyone how foolish she had been.

Having decamped to her Canterbury estate,
Lucy was anticipating the arrival of May, with equal parts dread and pleasure. May was Max’s younger sister, just six months younger than Lucy and probably Lucy’s best female friend in the world.

Unfortunately
, May was something of a dreamer. She had believed Max to be in love with Lucy when they were younger, and had almost convinced Lucy of it too. Of course nothing ever came of it and Lucy didn’t want a repeat of those platitudes, not when she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that May was wrong.

After her marriage,
May spent most of the year in the Scottish highlands since she had married a Scott’s Laird. They wrote regularly and of course, May had written often once she had heard of Lucy’s miscarriage. Lucy was only able to skim her letters though, for fear of reading anything that might once again ignite those foolish dreams. She would have visited but Lucy told her not to. May had two children under three and Scotland was a very long way away. May had been insistent though and so they had compromised; May would come to stay with them once they returned to the country and spend two or three months, which would make the long journey worthwhile.

Her husband, Donald would join her
sometimes but he also had business in London to attend to, so she and Lucy would have a lot of time to catch up, as long as May kept her foolishness to herself.

May
and Donald arrived in the late afternoon and as well as the four of them, they brought May’s lady’s maid, a nanny, a wet nurse, as well as Donald’s valet and secretary, all of which required two carriages, and enough trunks to make Lucy believe that they could be staying permanently.

She was wary of seeing the children, especially the youngest, who was just six months old but as
May climbed down from the carriage with the babe in arms, Lucy couldn’t help but love him, despite the painful reminders he brought of the child she had lost. She embraced her sister-in-law then took the baby from her, cradling him in her arms as if he were her own and May gave her a relieved smile.

May took after her
mother and brother in colouring, as did all the Starks, but her features were a mixture of both parents, not quite as delicate as her mother but not strong, like the men of her family either. The mix worked well and May was considered a great beauty, having had many suitors before she decided on Donald.

Donald looked nothing like his wife, having a more traditional Scottish appearance. His
curly hair was a very light red, almost strawberry blonde and although he was beginning to thicken slightly around the middle now that he was happily married, he hadn’t let himself go completely.

After a wash and rest,
they joined Max and Lucy for dinner. Lucy could tell that May knew something was very wrong between her brother and her friend, but she was well-bred enough not to enquire about it over dinner. Instead she simply observed them that evening, leaving the majority of the conversation to Donald and Max as she did so.

Only after her husband had left for London
two days later, did she suggest a private walk in the gardens with the children. May held hand of the oldest child, Sophie, while Lucy cradled baby James.

Lucy thought
that May was a dreamer but she was actually far more insightful in many ways than her friend, and she knew that people were more willing to open up around babies than around adults. There was just something about the innocent, wriggling creatures that helped to open peoples’ hearts.

“So, I notice that you and Max hardly seem to be on speaking terms,”
May began, sitting on a stone bench and releasing Sophie’s hand, so she could look around the bright garden.

“We talk!” Lucy defended, settling the baby in her arms
as she sat, since his eyes looked to be growing heavy.

“You almost looked nauseous when he kissed your cheek yesterday evening.”

“Let’s just say, he’s not the man that I thought he was.”

“But you’ve known him since you were children.”

“He was sixteen, hardly a child.”

“Lucy, please, tell me what pains you so? I can’t bear to see you like this, so cold and unfeeling.”

“I'm not unfeeling,” Lucy said, bowing her head as her tears fell. “I rather feel too much for Max, which is the problem.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No, you don’t.” Lucy agreed.

May
left her to get herself under control and didn’t press for more information. She knew her friend well enough to know that she would open up in her own time, or not at all.

Lucy kept her eyes focused on little James’ sleeping face and began her tale only when her tears had stopped.

“The day I lost the baby, I received a note from your father, requesting my presence urgently at a London address. I realise now that it must have been from Max’s mistress but I was too worried…” She remembered that May didn’t know the state of her father’s health either, “…by the urgency of the note, to think clearly.”

She took another break, breathing deeply to hold her tears at bay.

“When I got there, the door was ajar and before I could knock, I heard her and Max in conversation. They were arguing and he was telling her that he only married me for my money, position and faultless reputation. Then he told her how much he loved her and asked her to understand that he couldn’t marry a woman like her, even if they did have children together.”