The Housemaid's Scandalous Secret (23 page)

It was a particularly busy time for Lisette. Not only had she
Araminta to take care of, she was called on to stand in and wait on some of the
other ladies who had come without their maids. Once they left their rooms to
partake in the celebrations, her duties became far less onerous.

Everything was planned and when the first of the guests
arrived, a happy feeling of excitement pervaded the house—an unusual feeling
nowadays because of the time spent in mourning two of its sons.

In the domestic quarters the air was heavy with the smells of
cooking and there was a din of clattering pans and shouted orders. Monsieur
André, his darkly handsome face flushed with heat and hurry and wearing a
pristine white apron, was preparing dinner at a huge table with the aid of half
a dozen young kitchen maids.

He was hailed as a genius by everyone upstairs and downstairs.
He could cook an egg in fifty different ways. He was considered economical
because he could produce an inexhaustible variety of dishes without any waste of
ingredients, and the elegance and piquancy of flavours which are necessary to
stimulate the appetites of all. His attention was chiefly directed to the stew
pan, in the manufacture of stews, fricassées, fricandeaus and the like.

Overseeing this apparent chaos from a gallery, which was
reached by a servants’ corridor from the main part of the house, was Mrs
Stratton. She stood watching the frenetic activity with an unperturbed
expression, satisfied that everything was in order and perfectly organised to
her experienced eye, and that the guests’ meal would be ready on time.

* * *

In the servants’ hall Lisette accepted a glass of Madeira from
Mrs Stratton. She was seated at the table from which the servants’ evening meal
had been cleared away, with her workbox beside her and her sewing in her
lap.

Suddenly the door swung open with a clatter as a couple of
young footmen carrying a tray loaded with plates and cutlery marched in. They
looked very handsome in livery of knee breeches and silk stockings. Becca, a
young scullery maid, took one of the trays and carried it to the sink.

‘Are they a pleasant lot?’ she asked, not really interested,
for being a scullery maid she never got to see any of the guests.

‘They’re all the same to me,’ Sandy, one of the footmen
replied. ‘Lady Kate’s just turned up,’ he said, placing an untouched pyramid of
grapes on the table and giving Faith a teasing wink. ‘I see she’s still got Miss
Fisher in tow. Smithins will be delighted, I don’t think! She breezed in and
strode after her mistress as if she owns the place.’

A pained look crossed Mrs Stratton’s face. ‘Oh, dear! No change
there, then.’

‘Fat chance,’ Sandy said, popping a succulent green grape into
his mouth, which earned him a frown of disapproval from the housekeeper.

‘Lady Kate was expected back today or tomorrow so I’ve had a
fire lit to warm the room. I’ll go up and see her when she’s settled. I doubt
she’ll want to join the guests so I’ll prepare her a tray and have Daisy take it
up—unless Miss Fisher comes down for one.’ Getting to her feet she fingered the
keys on her belt. ‘Are the ladies in the drawing room?’

‘They’ll soon be coming out, Mrs Stratton.’

She looked at Lisette and Faith. ‘In that case, you two will be
needed upstairs by your mistresses.’

Picking up her workbox, going ahead of Faith, who stopped to
have a word with Sandy the footman, who was her beau, Lisette left the kitchen
and began the long walk to her mistress’s room. It had been another long day and
it wasn’t over yet. The servants were all very tired, but they still had the
task to finish clearing up after the guests and the family, and it would be a
long time before some of them went to bed.

She climbed the narrow flight of carpetless stairs used only by
the servants. It came out on the top of the main staircase. Closing the door
behind her she paused and looked over the banister to the bottom of the grand
staircase. Some of the ladies were taking coffee in the conservatory to the
right of the stairs.

She was about to move on but paused when Ross appeared. She
knew she should go about her business but she had never seen such fashionable,
glittering ladies and gentleman. Her gaze remained fixed on Ross. As she looked
down at his lean, undeniably elegant form, her feet remained glued to the top of
the stairs.

He was talking to Caroline Bennington, who beamed up at him.
This young woman Araminta would so like to become romantically involved with her
brother was incredibly lovely. Golden haired and with sparkling green eyes, her
small and slender form attired in a cream silk gown, any man would have to be
blind and insensible not to be drawn to her.

Ross was holding a glass of champagne in his hand—the same hand
that not so long ago had caressed every inch of her body, and his lazy white
smile was as devastatingly attractive as ever. Attired in formal black evening
clothes with a white waistcoat and frilled white shirt, he looked quite
splendid.

Suddenly, as if he could feel her gaze, he looked up and
checked at the sight of her looking down. His eyes looked straight into
Lisette’s and she felt a tremor of alarm as he contemplated her. Unaware of the
storm that was raging in the young maid’s breast, he inclined his head ever so
slightly before placing his hand beneath Lady Caroline’s elbow and steering her
into the conservatory.

Recollecting herself, Lisette melted into the shadows.

* * *

Staring fixedly ahead, concentrating on what Caroline was
saying proved difficult, because Ross couldn’t stop thinking about Lisette.
Whenever she was in a room with him, he had trouble keeping his eyes off her.
When she was absent, he couldn’t seem to keep his mind off her. He’d wanted her
from the moment she’d jumped in front of his out of control horse.

No, he thought, he’d felt something for her even before
that—from their meeting in India, when he’d thought she was an Indian girl,
wearing a star-spangled sari. He loved her intelligence and her unaffected
warmth. He loved the way she felt in his arms, and the way her mouth tasted. He
loved her spirit and her fire and her sweetness, and her honesty. My God, that
he should feel this way about her, that he should love her! After a succession
of meaningless affairs, he had finally found a woman he wanted, a woman who
wanted only him. He’d known that from the very first and his instinct told him
she hadn’t changed, no matter how much she proclaimed otherwise. He was so
stricken with the innocence of her, that he could not rouse himself to seek
relief in someone else’s bed.

* * *

In the days before the wedding, the house party rode and hunted
and jaunted off to nearby Castonbury village and further afield to explore the
delights and drink the waters at the spa in Buxton. The evenings were filled
with sumptuous feasts cooked by Monsieur André, brilliant conversation, cards
and for some of the gentlemen a game of billiards.

It was a beautiful sunny morning for the wedding. The ceremony
was conducted in the thirteenth century church which stood in its own grounds at
the back of the house. It contained monuments and effigies which reflected the
ancient lineage of the Montague family.

Since it had been impossible to invite some of their friends
and omit others, and because the family was only recently out of mourning, the
decision had been made to limit the wedding guests to immediate family only,
which avoided offending the sensibilities of friends and made it a quiet,
intimate affair. But the villagers had conspired amongst themselves to gather
together and waited in the grounds of the church to see the bride and groom as
they emerged as man and wife.

Araminta had insisted that Lisette be among the privileged
servants to occupy the back of the church to watch the ceremony. Having
straightened the bride’s train and handed her her bouquet of pale pink roses,
trying hard not to look at Ross, whose presence was like a tangible force,
powerful and magnetic, Lisette hurriedly took her place between Lumsden and
Faith, who was craning her neck so she wouldn’t miss the moment when Miss
Araminta entered the church beneath the chevron-moulded arch.

The duke and Mrs Landes-Fraser, Lily Seagrove and the bride’s
cousins, Lady Phaedra and Lady Kate, occupied the box pews in the chancel to
watch the proceedings. The groom and his best man faced Reverend Seagrove,
waiting patiently for the bride to appear.

‘Here comes the bride,’ Faith whispered when the music
soared.

Like everyone else, Lisette was caught up in the moment. Every
head turned to look at Araminta as she walked slowly down the knave, her hand
tucked into her brother’s arm.

‘Oh, isn’t she simply beautiful?’ A woman sighed.

‘Exquisite. And did you ever see such a gown?’ whispered
another as the bride passed the south transept which housed an alabaster tomb
chest with lifesize figures of a knight and his lady. ‘All ivory gauze and
silver lace... Oh, and just look at her bouquet.’

Lisette paid little attention to the comments of those around
her—had she not dressed the bride in her finery? She was staring at Ross as he
walked his sister slowly down the aisle, his tall, muscular frame moving with
that easy, natural elegance already so familiar to her. His attire was simple
but beautifully cut—light grey trousers, a plum-coloured cut-away coat, black
satin waistcoat and crisp white neck linen. As he walked, smiling and bowing his
dark head to those he passed, for one unwelcome instant Lisette felt the barbs
of envy pricking her heart when his eyes seemed to linger for an exceedingly
long moment on Lady Caroline Bennington.

But for the whims of fate, Lisette thought bitterly, she might
have been the one to receive his admiring gaze. It was almost as if she had
suddenly and cruelly been made aware that the prize to which her own soul had
secretly aspired had just been handed over to someone else.

The ceremony went smoothly, and when Reverend Seagrove
announced Araminta and Antony were now man and wife, a collective sigh went
through those present, joyous smiles dawned brightly and eyes misted with
tears.

* * *

When the wedding breakfast had been cleared away, the company
rested and readied themselves for the evening’s festivities, a steady stream of
luxurious conveyances, mostly containing local gentry, began to arrive at the
house, waiting to pull up before the brightly lit facade to unload their
passengers.

‘It looks like a Grecian temple,’ one female guest was heard to
remark as she was led by her escort up the immense stone steps and entered the
house through the great north portico to be confronted by the marble hall
designed to be no less impressive than the exterior. Pinks and greens had been
chosen for the ceiling, with panels of military trophies and arabesques.

The gown of duck-egg blue trimmed with lace slithered over
Araminta’s head. The neckline was extremely low, showing off the tops of her
small white breasts. Lisette stood back to cast a critical eye over her
handiwork. Then she smiled and stood back to admire her mistress.

‘You look a picture, my lady. Your husband will be quite
dazzled by the sight of you. I doubt he’ll allow anyone else a dance.’

‘Oh, I do hope so, Lisette. I’m so excited,’ she said, dancing
to the door but hurrying back when she remembered her reticule. ‘Wish me luck,’
she breathed before whirling about and rushing off to find her new husband.

Watching her go, a pang of envy wrenched Lisette’s heart.
Lisette was just twenty years old—her birthday had come and gone. She was young.
How she wished she could go to the ball, to laugh and have fun—to dance in
Ross’s arms.

But it was not for her.

When the dancing was under way, several of the servants found
their way to the salon to take a peek at the gentry enjoying themselves. It was
a beautiful room, a high-domed rotunda, contained behind the triumphal arch of
the south front. Like the marble hall it rose to the full height of the house
with rosettes carved on the dome. Lisette stood on her tiptoes among the
jostling press in riveted curiosity, trying to peer over Daisy’s head to see
through the crack in the door to the brilliantly lit salon. What she saw took
her breath.

‘Heavens,’ she breathed, never having seen the like.

Splendidly dressed couples were dancing the waltz on the wooden
sprung floor, and urns and plinths were placed in alcoves. Red silk damask
chairs and settees were designed to echo the curves of the walls, ringed just
now by a colourful array of local belles and beaux.

Catching sight of Ross dancing with Lady Caroline Bennington,
Lisette’s heart sank. His dark head was bent close to the lady’s beautiful
face—whispering pretty compliments, no doubt—and she was simpering and pouting
and fluttering her eyelashes with all the vivacity of a born flirt. Lisette felt
the pain in her chest where her heart lay—the bitter pain caused by the
malevolent pangs of jealousy.
He doesn’t even know I’m
here
, she thought. Abruptly she closed the door and gave her
attention to finding her way back to the kitchen and ignoring her sinking
heart.

Chapter Nine

T
he servants had their own special celebration. Several bottles of sherry had been brought up from the cellar to toast the happy couple. When Lord Giles and Colonel Ross Montague strode into the kitchen, they could see that already several glasses had been drunk. Normally the household staff conformed to a rigid, centuries-old hierarchy, with the head butler and the housekeeper at the pinnacle of it, but it was obvious to the two gentlemen that the consummation of liquor had been something of an equaliser.

Their appearance in the servants’ hall caused quite a stir. Lisette’s gaze riveted on Ross the instant he came into view, and the sight of him had the devastating impact of a boulder crashing into her chest. She had not expected him to appear among them and wondered what all this was about. Of late she had made sure he only saw her from a distance—she had learned the art of disappearing when he was about and in a house the size of Castonbury with its hidden corridors used by the servants to remain invisible, it wasn’t difficult.

Standing across the room between a chambermaid and a laundress, with servants in their various household uniforms in front of her, gave her a chance to study him. The overall expression of his masculine face was one of intensity and precision. Looking at him now—and she could see she was not the only one—with his thick black hair, deep blue eyes and tall, athletic physique, Ross Montague was magnificent. Lisette seemed to forget all about telling him to leave her alone, and she found herself falling under his unfathomable spell much as she had experienced before.

‘We are not here to disrupt your festivities,’ Ross intoned, ‘in fact, quite the opposite.’ As his gaze swept the room, as though his brooding eyes and deep velvety voice could mesmerise any unsuspecting victim, he was like a snake charmer Lisette had once seen in the bazaar in Delhi. ‘We hope you are all enjoying yourselves.’ He turned to Lumsden. ‘Have some champagne opened for everyone to toast the happy couple, will you, Lumsden? Carry on.’

When the fiddler began scraping a sprightly tune, becoming caught up in the moment, Giles laughingly gathered a surprised Mrs Stratton in his arms and began waltzing her around the floor to the amused delight of everyone present. Joining in the spirit of the occasion, footmen and maids alike grabbed a partner and joined them.

The company neatly under his control, Ross glanced oh-so-casually at Lisette, a discreet glimmer of devilry in his eyes. Lisette shook her head at him in bewilderment, wishing she could melt into the background and slip through the door into the passage beyond, but he was not going to let her escape. His wicked smile in answer to her thoughts and his slight, private nod merely seemed to say to her,
Oh, no, Lisette, you’re not going to escape me now.

Obviously he’d decided that both he and she were wasting their time on differences, and he was playing an amusing game designed to either divert her or discomfit her entirely, she wasn’t certain which. He deftly steered his way towards her. Watching him, Lisette could not help admiring his bold, confident walk, as if he could march through fire and not get burned.

When he finally stood in front of her, the subtle scent of his tangy cologne wafting over her, her nerves had wound taut, coiled tight in her stomach. She was deeply and embarrassingly conscious of every eye in the room focused on her. She wanted to say something but she now found herself tongue-tied.

‘Miss Napier. My sister would like to share her happiness with everyone at Castonbury, which is why we came down. She also insisted that I dance with you.’

He stood very still. Lisette lowered her eyes. Had she not done so she might have seen the flicker of victory in his eyes and then the sly satisfaction that curved his lips. Knowing she could not possibly refuse, she allowed him to lead her into the dance, where he swept her up into his arms.

‘You should not have done this,’ she whispered.

‘No?’ he murmured, both raven eyebrows arching high now. ‘And why not, pray? I could think of no other way of getting you to come to me.’

‘But...you sought me out?’

‘And you could not refuse to dance with me.’

‘Yes, I could.’

He smiled with mild amusement. ‘And regretted doing so. You should have gauged by now that I am capable of removing obstacles in my way.’

‘You shouldn’t have singled me out. As if things aren’t difficult enough for me. Already I am the subject of gossip. My life will be impossible now.’ He gazed down into her eyes with that same thoughtful expression she’d noticed before. He seemed to peer down into her very soul.

‘I’m sorry our affair has had adverse effects on your standing, Lisette, but what is life without a little danger?’ he countered, flashing her a dangerous smile. ‘We have both had our share.’

‘Yes, indeed. And you expected me to dance with you as a reward for rescuing me from a raging river?’

‘My dear, Lisette. If I had done it for the reward,’ he murmured, his warm breath caressing her face and his hand tightening about her waist, ‘I promise you, I would be asking for more than a dance.’

The sheer wickedness of the slow lazy smile he gave her made her catch her breath against the tightness of her buttoned bodice. All of a sudden she longed to be rid of it, rid of all her clothing, when he looked at her that way. Her strong determination to distance herself from him, which she thought had worked when they had last spoken days ago, was completely overwhelmed by his palpable expertise, and she thought again of what it was like to have him make love to her, to caress and kiss her body into insensibility—and she was tempted.

Looking down at her, all soft, entreating woman in his arms, drugging his senses with the sudden familiar scent and feel of her, he remembered the one time he had made love to her—how could he forget, for it had been the most wildly erotic, satisfying sexual encounter of his life? He had marvelled at the heady, primitive sensuality of her, real and uncontrived.

‘Come to me later, Lisette.’ His voice was low and husky, his eyes compelling with his need.

Until this moment Lisette had felt strong in her determination to abide by her decision to steer well clear of him, but she was so happy to see him, so achingly thrilled to have him this close, and so much in love with him, that nothing else seemed to matter. Yet the words he used sent a chill coursing along her spine. She struggled to free herself from the trance-like state induced by the intoxicating closeness of this strangely irresistible man and the touch of his hand holding hers, filling her with conflicting emotions.

‘But I said...’

‘I know what you said and why you said it, and now I want you to forget it,’ he murmured in the lazy, sensual drawl that always made her heart melt.

‘But I don’t want—’

‘Yes, you do,’ he said, wanting to give her a shake to make his full meaning sink in. She met his gaze and he smiled, content in his belief that he had measured the weakness of her character in the strength of her passion. ‘There is no gulf between us that cannot be bridged. What we feel for each other cannot be denied. You
will
be mine tonight. We both know it, so do not fight me, Lisette,’ he said softly, his voice a caress. ‘I know you too well. I know how you feel.’

‘Please leave me alone,’ she whispered, her cheeks hot, her pulse racing as she tried to control her emotions.

‘I’ll
never
leave you alone.’

He spoke softly, holding her with his gaze, knowing that she, too, was a victim of the overwhelming forces at work between them. She stared back at him, and he was sure he heard a soft moan escape her.

Lisette wished she were alone with him, away from all these people with their knowing eyes and judgemental looks. She wanted to fling herself into his arms and kiss his mouth, his face, his neck, as if nothing in the world existed for her but him. Shocked by the unladylike drift of her imaginings, she warded off the wayward thoughts before she could complete them. She studied his lips for a second, then shook off the shiver of awareness that ran through her body. And then the dance ended. Releasing her, taking her hand, he lifted it to his mouth and pressed the palm against his lips.

‘Later, Lisette. I
will
see you later.’

Then he turned and with Giles left the hall, satisfied that Lisette would do as he asked.

In the beginning he had deeply resented her decision to avoid him. He had seethed with frustration each time she disappeared as he approached, simmered with inept rage whenever she left a room rather than remain in his company for a moment. But tonight she would come to him in his rooms—and if not he would go to hers.

* * *

Leaving an excited yet apprehensive Araminta to await her bridegroom, Lisette went to her room without any conscious effort or awareness of doing so. How long she sat beside her bed she didn’t know, but when at last she got to her feet, she felt strangely calm. She would go to Ross. In two days she would leave Castonbury. She would leave Ross. Would it be so wrong of her to want just this one night?

Stepping quietly from her room she negotiated her way to the west block. Arriving at the room she sought, she stood looking at the door when suddenly she froze. She couldn’t go in. Would the joy of being together for just a short while be worth the agony of parting? Had she not been lucky to avoid the consequences of their last tryst—surely this would be tempting fate to try it again? Would it not be better if they stayed apart, not to see him at all? Blindly she turned on her heel and retraced her steps.

Ross heard a sound outside his door. As a soldier trained for war, he’d developed the faculty of detecting the slightest out of the ordinary sound and coming instantly alert. Immediately he crossed to the door and looked out, just in time to see the figure of a woman disappear round a corner. His instinct told him it was Lisette. Without hesitation he hurried after her.

Knowing she was being followed, Lisette found herself in the massive Marble Hall she had first seen on her arrival to Castonbury Park—a room meant to overawe and to establish a sense of Roman grandeur, rising to the full height of the house and recalling the open atrium at the centre of a Roman villa. But now, in the dim silvery light, eerie shadows draped the walls. She paused, looking around.

About her the great house lay slumberous, the cloak of night temporarily disturbed before settling back like a muffling shroud. And then she heard the soft footsteps of someone who walked quietly towards the hall. Silently she slipped behind one of the twenty alabaster fluted Corinthian columns that dominated the room, holding her breath and standing as still as the cold, blank-eyed statues that occupied the niches about the hall. The footsteps came to a stop just a few feet from where she hid. She shrank back, flattening herself against the cold column, thinking he might hear her heart beat. But then he moved away, the sound of his footsteps tapping on the inlaid Italian marble floor, leaving her in silent darkness.

Or so she thought, for she was unprepared when she slipped from her hiding place to find herself face to face with Ross. A silent moment passed as his eyes settled on hers. They seemed to draw her towards him.

‘Come to me, Lisette.’

Closing the distance, placing her hand into his palm, suddenly became the easiest, most natural thing she had ever been asked to do. He looked down at her and stared into her eyes before allowing his gaze to travel, slowly and lovingly, over every inch of her face. Without relinquishing his hold on her hand he led her back to his room. Lisette crossed the threshold and he shut the door. She walked into his arms, wrapping her own around his waist and placing her cheek on his broad chest.

The curtains were drawn against the night, and the room, so spacious and elegant, was warm and secure against the things that lurked outside. There was a silver moon but it did not intrude into the golden glowing room. A mother-of-pearl-and-gold clock ticked on the mantelshelf. Everywhere was rich comfort, even the hound lying in front of the fire was accustomed to sleeping on a thick pile of Turkish rugs.

The logs crackled in the fireplace, carried up by one of the footmen from the stack behind the stables. One spat as the sap within it dripped into the flames, eliciting nothing more than a lift of the dog’s ears.

Ross tilted her face up to his. His eyes were a dark sapphire blue in a tanned face and his eyebrows were raised in quizzical enquiry. ‘Why did you run away?’

‘I suddenly got cold feet,’ she answered, looking up at him.

Ross couldn’t blame her. If he was honest, from the very first he’d set himself up with his attempts at masterful manipulation. ‘I want you, Lisette, you know I do, and I know you want me.’

As he studied her, words rang in her head. The prize wasn’t the same as what he habitually lusted after. This time he wanted a great deal more and he knew why. It was because Lisette was different, because in her heart she carried the same things he did. They were like two halves of a broken coin waiting to be mended.

He’d known the first time he’d laid eyes on her, the instant he’d held her in his arms and kissed her. They fitted together, and he’d known instinctively, immediately, on a level deeper than his bones. He wanted all of her, not just the physical her, but her love and devotion and her heart. He wanted it all. He would settle for nothing less than that.

‘Why did you make me come to you?’ he breathed.

Leaning back, Lisette tipped her head to one side. ‘It has not escaped my notice that you have been otherwise occupied.’

‘My darling,’ he chuckled tenderly, ‘you are the only female alive who would bring up Caroline Bennington at a time like this.’ Sighing quietly he cupped her face in his hands as if it were a precious thing, kissing her mouth in such a way that the sweetness, the tender honesty of it, swelled her heart. ‘Caroline means nothing to me. Believe it, Lisette, for it is true.’

Lisette closed her eyes and no longer wondered what had drawn her to this man. Initially she thought it might be his compelling good looks and his powerful animal magnetism. She had convinced herself that it was so, that the strange hold he had over her was merely his ability to awaken those intense sexual hungers within her. Now she realised this was just the tip of an iceberg, that the truth lay in its hidden, unfathomable depths. What she felt for Ross Montague went far beyond either physical or romantic love.