Page 36 of The Duchess in His Bed
“I can’t get a good look at things, but it seems peaceful here.”
“It is. Like so many these days, Lushing was very much obsessed with the celebration of death. I find it all very morbid. This morning a photographer arrived to take a photo of Lushing laid out in the casket. Apparently, he’d arranged for it to be done some time back. I don’t understand the need to have an image of him dead.”
“For some, who can’t afford photographers, it’s the last, perhaps the only, chance for the family to have the deceased immortalized.”
“Cost was not a factor for him. Nor was it the only chance. He was photographed many times. I don’t fancy death mementos. Lord Kittridge asked if he could take some snippets of Lushing’s hair to have a watch fob made. I know it’s customary to use the hair for various pieces of jewelry, but I can’t bring myself to be so adorned. This way.” They turned down a path and followed it around a small pond, circled by willows, their branches hanging down like gossamer curtains. It was lovely during the day. At night it seemed more mystical. She could imagine sprites darting around. Tightening her hold on his arm, she relished the strength she found there.
On a puff of laughter, she said, “He’ll no doubt roll over in his grave if he catches sight of the risqué clothing I’m wearing.”
“On the contrary, I think he’d appreciate it.”
She glanced over and up at him. He was such a reassuring presence. If any spirits decided to engage in some hauntings, he’d send them back to where they came from right quick. It was odd to feel so close to someone she’d known only a couple of days, but then, the intense intimacy they’d shared was no doubt responsible. How could a woman not draw comfort from a man who had feasted between her thighs? “Did you ever meet him? Did he come to your other club?”
“If he did, he didn’t use his real name or title. Although I’m fairly good at ferreting out deception so I rather doubt it.”
Swallowing became difficult as she wondered if he’d correctly ferret out her deception and motivations. If he discovered the truth, would he be angry or not care?
“Here we are,” she said.
He watched as she knelt at the foot of a mound of dirt covered in flowers.
“I had no tears for him today. I wept them all last night,” she said quietly.
Crouching beside her, he draped his forearm over his thigh. He was in an odd place, not so much the cemetery as offering comfort. He’d always been about the laughs, the fun, the pleasure when it came to women. She was causing him to delve beneath the surface and he wasn’t sure he liked it. Yet the alternative was not to be here for her, and he liked that notion even less. “I’d have thought he’d have a monstrous headstone.”
“Oh he does. It’s a huge angel carved from stone that will watch over him, us. The vicar said it would be best to wait a year before putting it in place. Apparently, it takes the ground a while to settle after it’s been disturbed by a burial.”
He didn’t care about the ground, but something else had caught his attention. “Us, you said.”
“Yes, he purchased the plot next to him, on his left so I’m buried near his heart.”
“Not for a good long while yet, I should think.”
She offered him a small smile. “I shall hope not.”
The thought of losing her caused a tightness in his chest—
As though she were his to lose, an inner voice castigated him. She was only for jollies, until she tired of him or he tired of her. Yet here he was in one of the least fun places in the world, and he wasn’t thinking about how he’d like to pleasure her again, but only how best to comfort her. He was grateful she’d wanted him to be with her as she made this little excursion. “How did you come to marry him?”
Her laugh was as wispy as the tendrils of fog that were beginning to gather. “I’d known of him, of course. But only by name and reputation—the black sheep of Sheffield Hall, the family estate. When I was seventeen, I was presented to the Queen so I might have my first Season.”
“That seems rather young.”
“With your refined speech and well-tailored clothing, it’s easy to forget that you don’t come from my world and might be unfamiliar with the details of it. There isn’t a specific age requirement for being presented to the Queen. A girl need be merely viewed as mature and having reached a level of sophistication deemed sufficient by her parents. I have a friend who was presented at fourteen.” She hesitated before continuing. “In my case, my father was most anxious to see me married because his financial situation was dire. He was struggling to maintain the estate and feared if I didn’t marry soon, he’d have to sell the small property he’d set aside as my dowry. He made it quite clear that I needed to set my sights on someone who had the means to be generous. My cause was aided by the fact that the gossip rags referred to me as the most beautiful debutante of the Season.”
Her focus on the grave, all he could see were the shadows of her profile. “That’s the reason you weren’t happy when I complimented your beauty.”
Slowly she turned her head and her gaze came to rest on him. “I am more than my features, but when I was seventeen, they were all that mattered. As fate would have it, Arthur Sheffield’s father had died two years before, and now he was well ensconced as the Duke of Lushing and had decided that it was long past the time that he took a wife. At twenty-nine, handsome and wealthy, he was declared the catch of the Season. Within minutes of arriving at my first ball, the hostess, the Duchess of Ainsley, brought him over for an introduction. He claimed my first waltz. Halfway through he confessed that he’d done it as a lark because he found it humorous that we were consideredcatchesand thought our dancing together would cause tongues to wag. He also confessed to liking me very much and being surprised by it. He didn’t take anyone else out on the floor that night. So, naturally tonguesdidwag.”
He didn’t want to consider that once her mourning period was over, she would be attending other balls, dancing with other men, having another lord confessing that he liked her very much. “And you were smitten.”
“That’s rather a strong word for what I felt. I liked him well enough. He was kind and had a lovely smile. The following morning, he sent flowers. The next afternoon he took me for a ride through the park in his barouche. Soon after that my father had a word with him. Very soon after that, Lushing asked for my hand in marriage.”
“And you accepted.”
“I told him I needed to think about it. The Season had been underway for such a short time. It was only May. So much attention was being bestowed upon me by other lords that I was wearing out two pairs of slippers at every ball. I was having a grand time. I knew a good bit of the attention would end once a betrothal was announced. My father was furious. He packed up us girls and returned us to the country estate. I think he intended it as a sort of punishment, to take me away from all the fun, to make me rethink my answer, to remind me that the Season was not a game but had a purpose to it: to see me wed. Two weeks later he and Mother were dead.”
He clearly heard the guilt she harbored reflected in her voice. “Their deaths were not your fault.”
