Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor (283 page)

William turned to Electra. “What do you say to a trip to town?”

“I’d love it. You sure it won’t be too much for you?”

He smiled, reaching for her hand. “It will be too much for me if I don’t go out. If I stay here, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

She fluttered her eyelashes theatrically. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

“Good Lord, what have I unleashed? I fear my days of peace and quiet may be over,” he said, shaking his head.

Her heart warmed as she listened to his nonsense. He seemed as happy as she. His melancholy had dissipated and the sadness was gone from his eyes. Just the sight of him made her stomach twist and the breath catch in her throat. Fantastic as it may sound, the nightmare of the past two years had been a small price to pay for the love of this man. She reminded herself, he had not actually mentioned loving her, but she loved him, regardless.

• • •

They had taken the carriage rather than riding, for comfort as well as to carry the goods they must purchase. The horses had pulled out of Riverside’s front gate onto the main track when William spoke.

“Electra?” He paused. “Can I ask you a — er, quite personal question?”

Electra looked up, met his eyes and smiled. Today William could ask her anything. There was nothing she would not share with him. She told him so.

“The first night I kissed you, you were terrified.” She stiffened. “I thought I repulsed you but after what we have shared, that seems unlikely.”

Not that. Her heart began to race and her mind screamed; ask me anything but that.

“Each time I touch you, I have felt you struggling with some demon. Tell me what it is and we can face it together.”

She took two deep breaths and twisted her hands into the fabric of her skirt. “You’re right, there is something. But it is not you. As my husband, you deserve to know, but I don’t think I can speak of it just yet. Can you give me some time?”

“Of course. Of course, I should not have raised it.”

Disappointment at her inability to trust him flickered in his eyes.

She wanted to trust him with her secret. She would, eventually. But for now she wanted to enjoy the light mood between them, didn’t want to ruin it with her past.

Electra poked him playfully. “Will you visit Molly today?”

“Certainly, if it will make you jealous,” he countered.

She laughed. “Seriously though, Will, I don’t mind if you do. In fact, you really should. It has probably been some time since you looked in on her.”

“Then maybe I will. You could come with me,” Electra shook her head. “Or you could have coffee in town.”

“I’m sure I’ll find something to do. I want to call in on Mrs. Grenville anyway.”

• • •

Three hours after arriving in town, they met outside the post office. William arrived first and found he was eager to reunite with his wife. He watched with pleasure as she walked toward him from Button’s Coffehouse, enjoying the slight swing of her hips, the graceful movement of her slender body. She chewed on her lower lip, frowning in thought. He wondered what disturbed her. A picture of her walking toward him unclothed formed in his mind, his memory easily recalling every line of her naked body. He forced a breath into his lungs to calm himself. As if the intensity of his thoughts had penetrated her musing, Electra looked up and he watched, enchanted, as the afternoon sun shone from her eyes.

• • •

Her mind was overwhelmed with the revelations of the morning, unable to believe the number of stunning coincidences. Then looking up, she saw his tall form push away from the wall on which he was leaning. He sent her a look of such intimacy, the rest of the world blurred and she flushed from the roots of her hair to her toes. It took all her self-control not to fling her arms around his neck and kiss him shamelessly. Instead, she nodded politely and threaded her arm through his, breathing him in as they walked toward the carriage.

As he handed her up, she asked, “How was Molly Preston?”

“Very well, as it happens.”

She kept her face impassive. “I can see you have more to say.”

He turned to face her, stroking her hand as he spoke. “I have something to ask of you but I’m not sure if you will think me out of line. Will you hear me out?”

“You’re making me nervous, Will.” He frowned, fidgeting with a parcel beside him. “Go on, get on with it,” she said.

He gestured to the driver to move on and plunged into his story.

It appeared that when he arrived at Miss Bridie’s, asking after Molly, he was shown to a small room in the back of the house. There, bent over a large ledger, was Molly Preston. He was startled to discover, not only could the girl read and write, but she also had a love of figures and sums. Having just discovered this, Miss Bridie had made use of her. Molly excitedly told William she now earned her place in the house by keeping Miss Bridie’s books instead of selling her young body. Her only regret was the limits of her knowledge. She wondered if William knew where she could learn more of numbers.

He looked at Electra, his face inscrutable. “What do you say, Electra? You told me of your skills with numbers and if you agree to tutor Molly, it could keep her off the streets. Together you and I could give her a future so different from the one she looks forward to now.”

It was his last statement that decided her. He wanted them to do it together. Molly was not someone he was keeping separate from her.

“I would be willing to try. If we don’t get on or I don’t feel comfortable, I will choose not to continue. Would you accept that?”

He cupped her face with his two hands and drawing her toward him kissed her long and deep. “You really are unlike any other woman, aren’t you? I will send someone to her in the next few days inviting her to the farm.”

His hand rested comfortably on her thigh as he relaxed back into the seat. Moments later, he turned toward her again. “And how was your morning in town? Rich with gossip, I imagine.”

She smiled, raising her eyebrows, wondering where to begin. “To tell you the truth, my morning was one incredible event after another.”

“I am all ears, my sweet.”

“I’m still making sense of it myself, but it began at Mrs. Grenville’s shop.”

• • •

Mrs. Grenville exclaimed with pleasure as Electra walked through her door, turning her like a child to examine her closely.

“Oho!” she said, narrowing her eyes, “I see it. I see that blush of love and a lot more besides.” Her knowing laughter made Electra want to slink back out of the shop.

Clara Grenville suddenly stopped laughing and stared intently at Electra.

“Is something wrong, Mrs. Grenville?” asked Electra.

“I fear this will sound ridiculous, but I feel I know you. I mean, other than when you came to my shop the last time.”

“Really? But that’s impossible,” said Electra.

Mrs. Grenville shook her head. “Perhaps you show my creations to such perfection that I feel a familiarity with you.” She stood up and moved toward the back room. “Let’s have a cup of tea and a chat.”

As Electra regaled Mrs. Grenville with the events at the governor’s dinner dance, the woman seemed preoccupied.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Radcliffe, but I can’t seem to let this go. You see, you remind me so very much of a grand lady who regularly commissioned my services many years ago in England.”

Electra looked up from her tea. “Oh? Do tell me about her, Mrs. Grenville.”

“Ah,” she sighed, “it was a sad story. The dear lady died in childbirth, her only son dying with her. She left her husband and a six-year-old daughter.”

Something about these words sent a quiver of anxiety through Electra’s body. She looked up, her voice hoarse. “How terrible for the family. What did you say her name was?”

“She was Lady Gascombe, wife of Viscount Gascombe of — ”

Electra’s cup clattered to the floor, shattering. Her eyes were wide with shock.

“My dear, my dear,” said Mrs. Grenville bustling around, clearing the shattered cup and running for a cold cloth for Electra’s head. “Whatever is the matter?”

“Y-you knew her. You knew my mother?” stammered Electra.

“The Lord have mercy. Of course. Of course. You are the image of her. How could I have missed it? If possible, you are even more beautiful than your mother.”

Electra breathed deeply to still her trembling body. “Please. Tell me everything you remember about my mother. Everything,” she whispered.

Clara Grenville explained she had been Lady Gascombe’s personal seamstress for a number of years and they had formed the sort of friendship possible with such an arrangement. Electra hardly breathed as Mrs. Grenville described Lady Gascombe’s characteristics, looks, social activities, talents, and acquaintances. Things her father had not the heart to speak of. For the first time since she was a child, Electra could conjure images of a living, breathing person, rather than a dim shadow. Mrs. Grenville opened doors to her mother’s character previously closed to her by her father’s refusal to discuss his wife. Sometime later Electra looked down to find she was clasping Mrs. Grenville’s hands as they spoke. Both faces were wet with tears, as Electra asked her next question.

“My name. I have always wondered at my name. My father gave me an explanation but I can’t help but wonder if there was more to it. Did my mother ever speak with you about it?”

Mrs. Grenville sat back and smiled. “Ah, one look at your mother would tell you there was Greek heritage not too many generations back. It was not just her looks; it was her passion. So un-English. Much like yourself, my dear.”

Electra clasped her hands together. “I knew it. I just knew it.”

She hesitated before asking her next question, and then, feeling emboldened by their shared history, took her chances.

“Could I ask how you came to be here, Mrs. Grenville?”

Clara Grenville patted her hand, nodding, “Well, like yours, it’s not a happy story.” Electra indicated that she shouldn’t continue, but the woman smiled and brushed away her concerns.

“I took up with a scoundrel named Jack Grenville. A real charmer he was. Even married him.” She pursed her lips. “He wasn’t content with making an honest living and got caught pilfering from his boss. I won’t bore you with the details, my dear, but he was sentenced to transportation with a spot for his wife thrown in. So like the lovesick fool I was, I accompanied him. We had only been here six months when he died of the bloody flux.”

Despite the woman’s brisk tone, it was obvious she had loved her husband and still missed him. “I can imagine only too well what it must have been like in a strange country on your own,” said Electra. “Why did you not go back to England?”

“I didn’t have money for the passage home and the town was in need of a good seamstress so I set up shop. And here I’ve stayed. Business is booming and I find I actually like the place.” She tilted Electra’s chin and looking directly into her eyes, “And by the look of you my dear, I’d say you’re beginning to like the place as well.”

Heat flushed Electra’s cheeks and before she could respond, the bell rang over the door, announcing another customer.

Lady Percy moved forward to embrace Electra, pleased at finding her in town. Her business with the seamstress was brief; confirming the size of the buttons on her new gown. Within moments of concluding her discussion with Mrs. Grenville, Lady Percy, who insisted Electra call her Susanna, had commandeered Electra, swept her out the door and down the street toward Button’s Coffeehouse.

The two women had not spoken since Electra’s visit to Susanna’s home while William was at the Hawkesbury property. On that occasion, Susanna, in her forthright way, had elicited the details of Electra’s imprisonment, transportation and marriage to William. In return, she had promised her own colourful story at their next meeting.

While they sipped from cups of steaming coffee and nibbled on fluffy white scones with jam and clotted cream, their earlier, easy camaraderie re-emerged. Once the trivial niceties had been dispensed with, Electra placed her cup on its saucer and reminded Susanna of her promise. Susanna scanned the room for potential eavesdroppers. Satisfied with the scarcity of patrons, she drew Electra closer and began her story.

Susanna Baines’ mother had been a lady’s maid. The lady, fascinated with the beauty and intelligence of her maid’s small daughter, had charitably allowed the child to be tutored with her own children. The children regularly presented plays to the family and visitors. It seemed Susanna was a natural performer and regularly stole the show. Predictably, she went on to pursue a life on the stage and became rather famous. She played mostly at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane and now and then at Covent Garden. It was very fashionable for young male aristocrats to keep company with the most sought after actresses, which is how she met Percy.

“Percy was quite cocky,” said Susanna fondly, “and assumed I would fall over myself to be seen with him. He would treat me to lavish meals, hoping the entertainment would continue after the food,” she winked.

“Oh goodness. But, Susanna, an actress? I would never have guessed. Go on, tell it all,” said Electra excitedly.

“Well, naughty Percy already had a mistress and a fiancée.” Electra raised her eyebrows, laughing at his audacity, as Susanna continued. “His father, the Marquess of Knightsborough had great plans for his younger son, Percy. Had in fact arranged with the Spanish count, Garcia Maria Delgado de Arroya y Valle, for the betrothal of his daughter, Isabella Esperanza, to Percy.” They both giggled at the count’s name.

“I expect they both had something to gain from it?” asked Electra.

“Naturally,” said Susanna. “The count saw the contract as an introduction into English society and the business prospects which accompanied it. The marquesse sought to boost the diminishing family fortunes.”

“I’m a bit confused as to your place in all this,” said Electra.

“I don’t blame you,” laughed Susanna. “Actually, I didn’t care about the mistress or the impending marriage. My ploy was to secure a wealthy patron. But it all went wrong as we both fell hopelessly in love, and then I discovered he wasn’t wealthy after all.”