Page 28 of When She Loved Me
She bid the housekeeper good morning and asked in a whisper, “Where is the earl?”
Abby looked up from the two fresh but dead chickens, raising her brows nearly into the frill of her mop cap, indicating she hadn’t heard. The whisper had then been pointless, and Nicole had to repeat the question several times, and was forced to shout it finally so that Abby could hear—and still pointless, then, as the housekeeper only shrugged her small shoulders, so much thinner than her ample hips, to let Nicole know she hadn’t a clue.
The younger footman, Charlie, then came into the kitchen, his livery—such as it was—having seen better days, and likely many other wearers. He fetched a biscuit for himself, said good morning to the ladies and plopped down at the table.
“How long is ‘e gonna stay?” He asked. Charlie was probably a few years younger than Nicole, with lanky arms and legs and a long face to match. His hair always seemed as if it had met with a harsh wind, usually waving across his forehead and to one side.
“I’m not quite sure,” was all Nicole could offer.
“Why’d you wed with him? Don’t seem you like ‘im very much.”
Nicole wasn’t quite sure how to answer. “I don’t dislike him...very much.”
“My da’s a bounder, too,” Charlie then imparted, “and my ma says it’s better that ‘e’s gone now, but at least she got us kids from ‘im.”
“Your mother is lucky indeed to have you,” Nicole said, thinking it unfortunate that she likely wouldn’t even have this benefit from Trevor. Mayhap another reason for an annulment, she considered, as having children was something she had always desired. So often she thought that she remained here at the Abbey only out of fear—fear of approaching Trevor about an annulment, fear of braving the gossips in London society, fear ofbeing ill-received by either her father or her sister. While she was truly happy here, it was, she admitted, also just easier. But then the result of her choosing this effortless option for her life forced her to acknowledge that she was now exactly as her mother had been—weak and biddable and unfulfilled.
An hour later, Nicole was driving the buggy and the old nag into the village, the silk gowns next to her on the seat. She’d changed out of her workday dress and had donned a simple muslin of light green, having discarded also the kerchief in favor the familiar twisted braid secured at the back of her head.
The little village of Hornfield, though not more than one square mile, was actually quite a bustling place as within a ten-mile radius, there might be several dozen estates. The fact that it boasted a fairly well-kept travelers’ inn and a modiste and milliner and shoemaker, all of excellent quality, meant that it saw much traffic.
Nicole entered Mrs. Lemmon’s dressmaker shop, the trill of the bell above the door bringing that woman out from a back room.
She smiled when she saw Nicole. “Ah, miss, we have not seen you in so long.”
Nicole smiled warmly at the matronly woman, whose jet black hair always seemed so unnatural against her wrinkled though still freckled skin. “Hello, Mrs. Lemmon. I haven’t had a need of anything of late, but I wondered if any of these gowns might interest you.” She placed the frothy stack upon the counter and watched the shopkeeper’s eyes light up. “But of course, my dear! These are exquisite—London made, I’m sure.”
Nicole nodded. “And barely worn, as you can see.” The bell tinkled again, and two women entered, smiling at Nicole andMrs. Lemmon at the counter before browsing the tables of ready-made wares.
“I can turn around and sell these immediately and as is! What would you like for them?”
“I was hoping for just some simple day gowns in exchange. I haven’t need of anything too fine or fancy. As many as you think these gowns might afford me, and at least one more chemise, if you please.”
“This will get you many gowns, miss.”
Nicole lowered her voice, discussing the business side, “Mrs. Lemmon, please make sure that there is plenty of profit in this exchange for you.”
The bell tinkled again just as Mrs. Lemmon said, “You are too sweet, miss. This will be a good deal for both of us.” She then glanced up at the other shoppers and said to Nicole, “Let me see to these clients.”
“Shall I put these in the back room?”
“Yes, please.”
Nicole grabbed up the pile and walked them around the counter and through a curtained doorway, finding a table upon which to deposit the gowns. She returned to the front of the shop just in time to hear Trevor’s voice. She froze, just outside that curtained door and saw him in conversation with Mrs. Lemmon, who obviously recognized a quality gentleman when she saw one. The woman was wearing her ‘best customer’ smile just as Trevor looked up at Nicole and said, “Ah, here is my wife now.”
Mrs. Lemon appeared nonplussed, glancing back and forth between Trevor and Nicole.
“But I thought—” Mrs. Lemmon stumbled, and Nicole grimaced. She’d not ever actually dissuaded the woman from herinitial assessment of Nicole simply being a young miss, and not Lady Leven.
“I am her husband,” the earl said—quite possessively, Nicole thought.
“I see,” her words trailed off, her cheeks pinkening while Trevor somehow managed to keep his tight but affable smile intact.
“I would have driven you in, my dear,” he said to Nicole, who reminded herself she hadn’t done anything wrong—she certainly could not be held responsible for other people’s assumptions.
“It was a last minute decision,” she only said, and then to Mrs. Lemmon, who now appeared quite uncomfortable, “No hurry, Mrs. Lemmon, I’ll stop back in a few weeks. Good day.”
“And to you, my lady,” she returned, adding a curtsy for the first time.
