Page 32 of The Seductive Love of a Lady
There was something familiar about her, but she too was wearing a fashionable veil on her bonnet, a sweep of white that covered the upper part of her face, and her eyes.
Even if they knew him, though, Caro’s black veil had covered her whole face, tucking beneath her chin, and the fabric was so heavy he doubted they could have recognised her.
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Jennifer leaned closer, holding out her embroidery work. ‘Mary, show me how to do this stitch again…’
‘She is reading to me,’ Jemima complained.
‘I can do both.’ Mary took the cloth and sewed one stitch, explaining it, then passed the linen square back and recommenced the story.
She had a headache. She rubbed her temple with her fingertips. The headache had become a frequent complaint since Andrew had withdrawn from her.
He had been true to his word; she had a carriage, a driver and groom, a lady’s maid who came in daily and a husband who did not love her. He hardly spoke to her and never touched her, and when he could find a reason not to be at home he avoided her.
She spent her days and evenings with her parents, living much as she had before they wed, apart from returning to The Albany to change into her evening clothes, and to sleep in Drew’s bed, even though he did not sleep there. He slept in a chair in the parlour.
She had no idea how he filled his days and evenings.
At the end of each day her father would walk her up to the door of Andrew’s rooms. She would unlock the door, not knowing if Andrew was there. Her father waited until she shut the door behind her and he heard it lock before he left.
When Andrew was in his rooms, he would not talk but she did. Sprouting a continual inane chatter about everything and anything that happened to avoid the silence. Conversely, she never spoke of Andrew to her family. But nor did they ask after him.
When she began calling earlier and lengthening her stays, she told her father Andrew was busy finding a property for them. She did not even know if he still intended to move. Her father had not asked about Andrew’s absence since, apparently simply content that he was not with her.
She was everything but content. Her heart was shattered and she had been tired and listless for days as well as nauseous. She could neither eat nor sleep. She came to John’s to fill her days, but she had no desire for anyone’s company. A large group of her aunts, uncles and cousins were downstairs, so Mary had come up to the nursery with the girls.
‘Mary.’
She jumped. Her Aunt Jane stood behind her. Jemima was startled awake, she had fallen asleep on Mary’s lap.
Aunt Jane pressed a palm on Mary’s shoulder. ‘There is something I need to tell you.’ She lifted Jemima into her arms. ‘Come along, darling, you are sleepy, you need a nap.’ She looked at one of the nursery maids. ‘Please put Miss Jemima to bed.’ She passed Jemima over, then looked at the other girls. ‘There is tea and cake being served downstairs.’
The girls left their embroidery and games, and hurried from the room, sounding more like stampeding elephants than young ladies.
Wariness crept up Mary’s spine as her aunt sat on the sofa beside her, her expression a picture of concern. ‘Please leave us,’ she told the maids who had begun tidying up after the girls. Her eyes followed the maids until the door closed behind them. Then she looked at Mary.
Mary put Jemima’s book down on the cushion between them.
‘I wish I did not have to tell you this,’ her aunt said quietly. ‘I have known for a few days but I have been warring with myself over whether or not to speak. Yet, I would never forgive myself if you heard it from someone else.’
Butterflies took flight in her stomach, a million of them. It could not be good news, and it must be about Andrew.
Aunt Jane reached forward and held Mary’s left hand in both of hers. ‘Mary, there is no easy way to say this…’
How worse could things get?
‘A good friend of mine, Violet, Lady Sparks, who you know and would trust as well as I, saw Lord Framlington with a young woman. She was wearing a veil, to hide her identity, but Violet said they looked… affectionate. Violet is not a gossip, you know. She has only told me because she is concerned. We have told no one else, not even your Uncle Robert because he would say something to your father.
‘Violet was with her sister-in-law who she believes did not recognise Lord Framlington. I am sorry, because Violet thought, well…’ Aunt Jane’s eyebrows lifted, communicating what she found it too uncomfortable to say.
‘He has a mistress.’ Mary had not considered it since he said he could not afford one. Her whole body became numb. She thought the distance between them was her fault, because she made him speak to his family and accepted Lord Brooke’s escort.
Her hand felt cold in Aunt Jane’s warm hands.
‘They were in a draper’s, so, it is very likely she is his mistress. If the gossips find out they will dine on the news because many people in society hold a grievance with Lord Framlington.’
Mary wanted to press her palms over her ears. She shook her head. He said he could not afford a mistress but now he had her dowry.
