The Fallen Woman (A Regency Romance) (21 page)

“I would… what?”

“Never mind,” she said, turning her attention back to her plate. She wanted to say it was incredibly odd for a man of his station to eat with a handful of servants, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

Everyone was silent for a long time, which was surprising, considering that fact that every person sitting around the table, excluding Mary, was usually prone to chattering on and on about anything under the sun. As soon as Mr. Lamb entered the room, there was an obvious change in everyone’s disposition.

“This is good roast,” Andrew said, waving a piece of gravy-soaked meat on the end of his fork. “You know… for some reason, I think the food tastes better here than it does in that stuffy dining room. Maybe it has to do with the company.” He looked over at Mary with a grin, but the expression was wasted, because she was too busy staring at her plate. Andrew wanted to laugh. She would do anything to avoid eye contact with him, wouldn’t she? “Anyway… don’t end the conversation on my behalf. Go ahead and talk about whatever you were talking about before I came in. I don’t want to ruin the mood.”

“What
were
we talking about?” asked Nell.

To which John answered, “Yer feet.”

“No, besides that… what were we discussing? Ah, yes. Yorkshire. We were discussing how Mary’s the only one of us that gets to go to Yorkshire.”

“Right. And it’s a shame you won’t be going, as I’m sure it will be fun,” said Andrew. “I’ll be going as well.”

Mary stuffed a potato wedge in her mouth and chewed it as hard as she could. She didn’t know Andrew was coming. In fact, the thing about Yorkshire she’d been looking forward to the most was the fact that Andrew wouldn’t be there. Apparently, she was wrong.

“So we’ll be seeing more of each other, won’t we?” Andrew asked. “Maybe I can take you to the art gallery with me, Mary?”

Swallowing her food, Mary replied, “Oh… I don’t know about that. I don’t think I’d be allowed to go. It’s not supposed to be a holiday for me.”

“But I can’t think of anything that would make me happier than having you on my arm,” Andrew went on. “I’m sure Tristan wouldn’t protest if I wanted to take you with me.”

“But
I
might protest!” Nell spoke up. “Forgive me if I’m speaking out of turn, but you better not take our Mary anywhere she shouldn’t be goin’! She might not be a lady by your standards, and I haven’t known her for very long, but someone’s got to look out fer her! She’s as good a girl as I ever met!”

“If you’re worried about her reputation, you can rest assured, I wouldn’t do anything untoward.”

Mary rolled her eyes. His actions were already way beyond the pale, in her opinion. Telling her he wanted her in his bed wasn’t
untoward
? Out of the corner of her eye, she saw John whispering something to his fiancé. They were saying something about her, no doubt. Maybe Andrew wasn’t aware of the fact that lower class tongues were just as capable of wagging. They probably thought she had done something to encourage Andrew’s attentions. Either that, or they were wondering why he seemed so interested in a mousey maid without a shred of beauty.

Mary wondered that too. She wished he’d focus his attentions on someone like Lorna, who was young and adorable. If he did, Mary might finally get a good night’s rest.

“So, how do these things work in your class, Mr. Lamb?” Nell asked. “Poor Mary’s parents are gone, so… someone like me’s gotta stand in. If you’re looking to court our girl, well--”

Mary interrupted, “Oh… Nell, please! You can’t think something as ludicrous as that. You can’t possibly think he wants to--”

Andrew interrupted. “I would be very happy if I could have your blessing, Nell.”

Mary turned to him, brow furrowed. “Mr. Lamb,
please
… you can’t possibly mean to--”

Nell raised her voice, “You sound genuine enough to me. You can court her if you’d like.”

“Nell!” Mary’s head sunk, and she clutched it in her hands. She couldn’t imagine a more embarrassing moment. She didn’t know who embarrassed her more—the older maid, or her questionable suitor. Did Nell actually think Mr. Lamb was the sort of man to go about wooing a servant girl in a proper fashion? Or in any fashion at all, for that matter?

“Well…” Mary took a deep breath and pushed back her chair. “If you don’t mind, I-I’m finished with dinner. I think I’ll head off to my room now, if you’ll allow me to excuse myself…” She tried to sound as proper as possible. She was subconsciously going out of her way to sound like a lady in Mr. Lamb’s presence.

Andrew leapt from his chair when he saw her get up.

“But you’ve barely eaten a thing!” Lorna gasped. “I worked so hard on that roast!”

“Don’t bother her, Lorna. If she’s not ‘ungry, she ain’t ‘ungry,” John added with a shrug.

“Can I walk you to your room?” Andrew asked.

“Oh, but… you haven’t finished your supper, Mr. Lamb. You needn’t abandon your food on my behalf.”

“But I insist.” He wrapped his arm around hers and guided her out of the room. “It should be obvious that my reason for eating with the servants was so I could spend time with you.”

“Obvious or not, it still baffles me.”

“Is it really so baffling to think I might be charmed by you?”

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “It is.”

As they headed down the hall, the flickering flames on the candelabra seemed to bow in their direction. Mary felt like she should bow, too. She thought it was strange—conversing with Andrew as if they were equals.

“Will you take into consideration the fact that I’m practically
desperate
to get you to like me?” he asked. “Please… I want you to spend some time with me when we’re in Yorkshire.” She started to open her mouth, but he cut her off before she could protest. “What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

The worst that could happen?
Mary thought to herself.
I could fall in love with you, and you could leave me the next day. With your beautiful face and practiced charm, I’m sure you’d be easy to fall in love with.

Her thoughts turned her cheeks an even deeper shade of crimson. She wished she still hated him. If she did, Mary could guard her heart against him. His smile and persistence made resisting his advances a near-impossible task. “I will… consider it, Mr. Lamb.”

“Good. At least your answer gives me some hope. At least you haven’t completely shunned me again,” Andrew said. When they arrived at the maids’ quarters, he opened the door for her. “One more thing…”

“Yes?” She tried not to look at him when she stepped into the room, but she couldn’t help herself. One look at his face made her legs start to tremble. Did he have to be so handsome? Why did he have to choose her as his next conquest? She was just a simple maid with a simple life, and he was bent on destroying her tranquility. Mary wasn’t worldly enough to deal with the likes of a rake like Andrew. Two months ago, she had secretly judged Leona when she learned of her tryst with Lord Wintergreen. If her mistress felt for Lord Wintergreen what Mary felt for Andrew, she could understand why it was so easy to give in to temptation.

Andrew took her hand, turned it, and placed a kiss on her palm. “Call me Andrew,” she said, making chills run down her spine.

“Goodnight,
Mr. Lamb
,” she said, pulling her hand away and closing the door.

How much longer could she resist him?

Not long, she feared.

Chapter Twenty Five

Leona was amazed at how casually Tristan conversed with her. They had been traveling for two days, and not once did he say anything about the secret that had caused her emotional distress for three months. And yet, she found it hard to believe it wasn’t on his mind. Had he really forgiven her already, or was he putting on a good show?

Of course, the reason behind his not mentioning it might have had something to do with the fact that they were almost always in the company of Andrew. She had nothing against her husband’s friend, but she would have liked to have had some privacy with Tristan from time to time. Mary was glued to Leona’s side as well. In fact, Leona was starting to wonder if Mary’s constant closeness was contributing to Andrew’s never-ending presence. As unlikely as it seemed, Leona was starting to wonder if Mr. Lamb had taken a liking to her taciturn little maid, despite their dubious history. He seemed to pay Mary a compliment every time he could draw a breath.

Leona wondered if she was reading into it too much. Maybe he was just trying to make up for his past mistake?

Leona closed her eyes as the carriage rocked and swayed along the crude dirt path. It was hardly an atmosphere suitable for relaxing. Every now and then, she would open one eye, ever-so-slightly, to sneak a peak at Tristan. Did he know how much she cared about him? How much she
loved
him? Did he have any idea how much it would tear her heart out to be parted with him, or know how much she appreciated his respect for her, even though she was a fallen woman? She knew her father had tried to punish her by marrying her off to a stranger, but he ended up doing Leona the biggest favor of her life. Her mistake took a serendipitous turn. She didn’t even want to imagine what her life would have been like if she wasn't with him.

Leona wondered how Tristan felt for her in return. Did he really care about her? Could he ever…
love her
? Or did he harbor some resentment behind his kind and caring veneer?

“Are you awake?” Tristan asked with a chuckle, leaning forward to tap her on the knee.

She opened an eye. “Oh, yes. I was just dozing.” Leona tried to resituate herself in her seat. She was feeling a bit uncomfortable, and she knew it was because her gown was tighter on her than usual. She’d worn her favorite pink dress, because she knew this was the day she would be meeting Tristan’s aunt and she wanted to make a good impression. Unfortunately, it didn’t quite fit anymore. She wondered what she would do when she really started increasing. She wondered how long Tristan would be willing to keep her secret—and to what extent would he keep it? Would he be willing to tell the world the child was his?

“We’re nearly there,” Tristan said. “I was just thinking… if you wanted to, I could take you as far north as Durham. Everyone should see the cathedral at least once. Of course, the York Minster is also very nice, and my aunt’s cottage isn’t far from York.”

“So… you’re well-traveled, then?” Leona asked.

Tristan chuckled. “Not nearly as much as I’d like. I’m afraid I’ve only been to England and Wales, and Durham’s as far north as I’ve ever been. One of these days, I’d like to visit our Scottish neighbors.”

“If you do, I’d like to go with you,” Leona said with a smile.

“And don’t forget about me!” Andrew said, giving Tristan a swat on the arm. When he saw the uncertain look on his friend’s face, he quickly added, “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not being serious. You don’t have to take me along. I’m sure you’re more than a little tired of me already.”

Leona bit her tongue.

“Not at all,” Tristan countered. “My best friend is welcome to come anywhere with me. But if we’re really serious about traveling to Scotland, I’m afraid our conversation will have to wait until later. We’re here.”

Leona turned her eyes to the window. “Oh… how precious!” she exclaimed, referring to the large, thatched cottage in front of them. “That
is
your aunt’s house, isn’t it? I would assume so, since the carriage stopped right in front of it.”

“You’re correct. Aunt Elizabeth should be out to greet us at any time.” Tristan hopped down from the carriage and offered his wife a hand.

Almost as soon as Leona alighted from the carriage, a small, middle-aged woman appeared beside them. “You should know by now that I’d rather be called Aunt Bess, dear. Is this your wife?”

“Oh!” Leona exclaimed. “I… yes. I’m Leona.”

Bess took Leona’s hand and gave her a gentle pat on the arm. “So pretty, you are,” she said. “I don’t know how my nephew got so lucky.”

“Oh, I don’t think he’s lucky at all.”

Tristan shook his head. “Yes, I am
very
lucky indeed.”

Tristan’s aunt was a short, willowy woman on the shady side of fifty, with small, wide-set eyes and hair of darkest black. There wasn’t a trace of gray in that ebony forest—and a
forest
it certainly was. She tried to contain her hair in a bun, but her hair was so thick and frazzled, it sprung from the bun in every direction.

“And who are your friends?” Bess asked, referring to Andrew and Mary, who emerged from the carriage after her nephew’s wife.

“You’ve met Andrew, Bess,” Tristan reminded her. “It was several years ago, but you’d probably remember him. He broke your favorite vase, remember?”

Her cheerful face was altered by a trace of irritation. “Oh… yes. Yes, I
definitely
remember him now. You’re the handsome boy with the questionable manners.”

“Apparently, my clumsiness is the most memorable thing about me,” Andrew said with a sigh. He took one of Aunt Bess’s tiny hands and gave it a kiss. “I hope you can forgive me, Miss Hudgeons. I will try not to break any vases this time.”

“I hope not. And who is this?” the older woman turned her attention to Mary. “Ah, right. You must be the maid, yes? Why don’t we head into the house? I know it isn’t nearly as fancy as Randall Hall, but at least it’s cozy.”