Page 111 of Scandalous Heiress
Victor had cabled early this morning that he would be down from Victoria Station on the eight o’clock train.
She glanced at her bedroom clock.
“‘Arriving ten-thirty,’” he’d written.
It was now eleven oh-five.
“How is that, milady?”Her new ladies’ maid gave a last tug on her corset stays.
“Wonderful.I’ll have my red silk dressing gown, if you please, and you may go.I’ll ring when I’m ready for you to do my hair.”She could wait a much longer time to don her gown.
She’d ordered a new one for today, a pink and white striped muslin that made her feel young, carefree and more healthy than she’d been in days.But if she was correct, this new dress would not fit her for long.She was with child.And whether she’d become pregnant on her wedding trip or the day before she left London, she knew full well that news of a child was not in her favor.She would not force herself into his life with such news.Yet she’d worried how to tell him.Go to London?Write a letter?Cable?
Ridiculous.
What would she say?“Weather fine here.All’s well.Girls happy.House in good form.Me, carrying your child.Write soon!”
But he was coming here.And if he looked closely at her, he’d see she seemed a little green around the edges.
Ohhh.She hated the idea.Went for her tea tray and sipped the tepid stuff.Baa!She even hated that.But coffee sent her running for a basin.And she’d had to stay in bed in the mornings to drink it too.Which irritated her back.
She sighed.Why couldn’t she just go out and dig in her garden?She put her forehead to the pane.The tangled mess she’d found out there was now weeded, plowed and furrowed.She and the girls had planted a few tomatoes, some lettuce and a row of cilantro and parsley.Each morning and late afternoon, Viv and Deirdre watered the plot.Sprouts had shown their little green heads yesterday and the two of them giggled in welcome to their work.
A clatter in the hall met her ears.Squeals of delight meant the girls were ready for their walk into town with Wu-lai.
And then suddenly the far door of her sitting room to the hall was open and there stood her husband.
Oh, my.He was grand.
With a straw bowler in his hand, a navy coat, white shirt and dove grey trousers, he was the very model of an Englishman visiting the seashore.
“Ada,” he seemed to breathe more than say.And he was across the room, hesitant to approach her or touch her, but his eyes caressing every inch of her and returning to lock on her own eyes.“You look wonderful.”
He’d gone blind, clearly.
She closed one eye and looked at him with skepticism.
He threw his hat sailing away toward a chair and scooped her into his arms.
A palm to his chest, she had to ward him off.He couldn’t just rush in here and with one embrace, wipe out the fact that he had not bothered to come see her in nearly two months.
“You won’t let me kiss you.”That was more statement than question.Yet his mouth was temptingly near and she was lured.Definitely lured.
She pushed away, headed for a chair because either her condition or his nearness made her head spin.“Good to see you.”
He snorted.“Very well, I suppose I deserve that.”
She looked up at him, standing as he was in the center of her bedroom of what might one day be—if he was repentant—their bedroom.
“Okay.You are angry with me.”
“Angry?No.Why would I be?Do you deign to put pen to paper once a week?I read more in the London papers about you than you tell me yourself.Why would I possibly be angry, Lord Cole?”
“I deserve that,” he said, his tone repentant even if he did not say the words.“I’ve come to attend one of your famous tea parties.”
She narrowed her eyes at him.“Who said you had an invitation?”
He laughed, but it was short-lived and nervous.“Please stop.”
