Laura Carroll Butler Read online

  Davis played more aggressively than usual. The steward brought in a plate of food, but he ignored it. He filled his glass often, though, more than usual and the tension between them was growing, not dissipating.

  “What is it you cannot have, Davis?” Michael mused. And then it occurred to him. “Is there someone other than Rebecca you are in love with?” he asked.

  Davis stared in silence. Michael knew from experience he was ruminating not hesitating. Whatever answer he gave would be correct, but not necessarily the truth. “Rebecca will be a wonderful wife and mother,” he finally said.

  “That’s not what I asked you,” Michael persisted.

  “It’s too warm in here,” Davis said, removing his jacket.

  “You are avoiding my question.”

  “I love her. There’s no one else,” he answered crossly, but not passionately. He wanted to throw the cards, but he kept his head and handed them to Michael instead. “It’s your deal.”

  Michael put the deck aside. “Then you know how I feel, Davis. I don’t know how it happened or why or if it’s even genuine, but I can’t stop thinking of Susanne. I want to be with her, to touch her, to wipe away her tears—“

  “You always were a bloody romantic” Davis interrupted.

  “But you know how I feel,” Michael continued. “To be so close to someone you want desperately.”

  Davis sat back and swirled the scotch in his glass. “Of course I do,” he finally answered.

  “Rebecca--” Michael began.

  “Not Rebecca,” Davis said. Michael was silent. “But I do know how it is to not be with the person you love.”

  Michael was surprised. He’d never heard Davis speak of another woman with genuine passion. “Who was she?” he asked.

  Davis considered him carefully before answering. “It doesn’t matter. If we can’t have who we want, we learn to make do with the next best thing.”

  “Is it fair to Rebecca that she is the ‘next best thing’?”

  “Life is not fair, Michael. We play the cards we are dealt and try to make the best combination. You’re a gambler. You know this.”

  “So you would deny me what I want because you can’t have what you want? And what is stopping you, Davis? Engagements can be broken. Yes, Rebecca will hate you for a long time, but isn’t it better than denying yourself the person you love?”

  “It’s not that simple, Michael.”

  “Your father is dead. You can marry whoever you want.”

  Davis finished his scotch. “You really don’t know, do you?”

  Michael wrinkled his face in frustration. “God damn it, Davis, quit talking in circles! We have been friends for too long for you to suddenly become coy and evasive with me! Who is she?”

  “Not she,” he whispered. As Davis stared at him, drunk and unable to hide his sadness, Michael knew, finally, who Davis really loved. Suddenly he understood why Davis couldn’t bear to see him in love with Susanne. And all he could say was, “I’m sorry.”

  Davis poured another drink. He shook his head slowly as if coming to his senses. “It can’t matter. I have a duty to marry and produce an heir. I have a woman who is willing to twist herself into any variation I want. But if I have to watch you love someone else…I would rather it be someone I don’t have to see and pretend that it doesn’t matter.”

  “I had no idea,” Michael said.

  “I told you it doesn’t matter. I will marry Rebecca. She and our children will be my life. And I will love her with every ounce of my being.” Davis was saying it more to himself, the words helping him to remain focused. “Let’s finish our game.”

  ************************

  Rebecca woke to a light tapping at her door. She had waited for hours, listening for Davis’ familiar footsteps, but finally drifted off to sleep. The tapping came again and she quickly ran to open the door. Davis was leaning against the frame, disheveled and clearly drunk.

  “I need to speak with you,” he slurred.

  Rebecca helped him into the room where he collapsed in a chair. She knelt beside him and only when his eyes fell on her did she remember that she wore only her nightgown.

  “Is something wrong, Davis?” she asked self-consciously crossing one arm over her breasts.

  He smiled at her with glazed eyes and stroked her hair. “You are so beautiful. Do you know that? Any man would envy all that I have.” He leaned forward to kiss her and his hands went immediately to her breasts. Rebecca pulled them away and held his wrists gently.

  “Davis, darling,” she laughed softly, “You are a bit tipsy.”

  “Yes I am. But I’ve been thinking about you all night. All I want to do is suck on your lips and taste their sweetness.” He pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her deeply, almost desperate. He wants me too, she thought dizzy with ecstasy and relief.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.

  He put a finger to his lips. “Shhh. Don’t say a word.” He kissed her again as he stood and led her to the bed. He pulled off his shirt and removed her nightgown as she kissed his chest. She pulled him onto the bed as he explored her body with tender caresses. She shivered from the gentle stroke of his fingers. He nuzzled his face in her hair and breathed “I don’t want to ever hurt you.”

  “You won’t. I love you too much.”

  He covered her mouth with his, burying his hands in her hair. She felt a sharp pain when he entered her, but in her excitement she blocked it and instinctively matched his movements. The hardness of him inside her was delicious, but it ended too quickly.

  He lay on his back and she knew that he could see her naked body if he turned his head. Suddenly she was embarrassed and reached for her discarded nightgown.

  “Don’t,” he said, pulling it away. “I want to see you.” He stared at her then said almost sadly, “I’m sorry.”

  Rebecca didn’t understand. “I wanted this, too,” she said.

  “I just wanted it to be special. I wanted it to be better for you.”

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No. Never. Let me just hold you.” He wrapped his arms around her; she pressed her head over his rapidly beating heart. “I think we should be married sooner,” he said.

  “How much sooner?”

  “Christmas.”

  “But that’s only three weeks. Everyone will talk!”

  He laughed. “Maybe we have just given them a reason to talk.”

  She smiled as she realized what he meant. “I don’t know if I can plan our wedding that quickly. And the banns—“

  “Have been read. Johanna will help you. I don’t want to wait any longer. We should be married.”

  I won’t have lilies, she thought. What an odd thing to consider. But if this was what Davis wanted….”Of course, darling. Whatever you like.”

  *************************

  “Meet me at Berkeley Square at nine a.m. I must speak with you.”

  The note was delivered the previous evening and Susanne hadn’t slept much so excited was she to see Gordon again. The household was quiet when she slipped out into the cold foggy morning. It hadn’t snowed, but it felt like it could at anytime. How romantic would a proposal in the snow be? She knew that was why Gordon wanted to see her; what else could it be?

  Gordon was not wearing his uniform. Instead he was dressed casually as though he were trying to remain inconspicuous. He grabbed her hand and led her on a journey through unfamiliar streets.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, but Gordon wouldn’t answer. The streets were getting seedier and Susanne was grateful that it was cold enough for her to have worn her hooded cape, the better to hide her face.

  They finally came to a boarding house and he led her upstairs to a small room. The room was sparsely furnished with only a bed, a chair, and a table with a washstand.

  “What’s going on Gordon? Why have you brought me here?” she asked nervously.

  “There is always someone
at your sister’s house. I just wanted to be with you. Alone,” he added.

  “But your note said you wanted to speak with me.”

  “In good time,” he said, removing her cape. She sat on the chair and he produced a bottle of wine and two cups from a valise that lay in a corner. She watched as he poured wine for both. The wine quickly warmed her body and she felt light-headed and giddy. Gordon wasn’t talking, just watching her. It was all very peculiar.

  “What else do you have in your valise?” she teased.

  He smiled, but didn’t answer. He topped off her cup and took her hand, rubbing it so gently. “Do you know how much I have desired you, Susanne?”

  Her head was swimming and she vaguely wished Gordon had a biscuit somewhere. He took her by the hand and led her to the bed. The wine had dulled her senses so much that it took her a moment to realize that Gordon’s hand was under her skirt.

  “Don’t,” she said and he moved his hands to her breasts, cupping them gently while he kissed her. In all the time they had been together, he had never done more than kiss her. “Stop,” she said finally, a little clarity finally penetrating the drunken haze. She pushed him away and sat up.

  “Surely you want me as much as I want you,” he said.

  “Not this way,” she protested. “You wanted to speak with me. Isn’t there something you wish to ask,” she prompted.

  Gordon considered this. “Would you like some more wine?” he asked.

  Susanne smiled demurely. “That’s not what you wanted to ask. Don’t be shy. I’m sure I’ll say yes.” She was becoming impatient with his uncharacteristic evasiveness.

  He picked up her hands, looked into her eyes and said, “I would like you to become my mistress.”

  Gordon continued to hold her hands as the words sank in. “Your mistress,” she finally said.

  “Yes, Susanne. You know that I desire you above all women.” Why was he speaking as though she should feel complimented?

  “Your mistress?” she said again. “I thought you were going to ask me to marry you.”

  He let go of her hands and stood. “I can’t marry you, Susanne. I’m marrying someone else.”

  Every statement of his felt like a physical blow. He was marrying someone else. “But I thought you cared about me,” she answered in a half-whisper.

  “I do care about you. It’s just, well, her family is very wealthy. She can help me advance.” How could he be so logical while ripping out her heart?

  “But---” she began.

  “Susanne, your family doesn’t have the money I need. I spoke with Tristan and he was happy to have me marry you, but your dowry just wasn’t large enough.”

  So simple, it was all so simple. After all, what was marriage but a business arrangement? Feelings, love, that was all incidental.

  “But you thought I would be satisfied being your mistress,” she stated coldly.

  “Well, it’s not as though you are a virgin, Susanne.”

  She froze. Any warmth she had felt from the alcohol was gone. “How…what…” And why did it seem as though Gordon was enjoying this?

  “Surely you haven’t forgotten Perry Wilborn, my cousin? Not to mention the other young men your brother brought home?”

  “Perry is your cousin.” It all made sense. But there were no others. Not that it mattered now.

  “You really should consider the offer, Susanne. It’s probably the best you will ever receive.”

  She should have slapped him, thrown something at him, done anything to hurt him. Instead, she picked up her cape and walked out the door. Outside, in an alley, she threw up the wine and started to cry. Several people passed, but no one came to her assistance. She finally wiped the tears from her face and began the long walk back to Davis’.

  *************************

  Davis was gone when Rebecca awoke. She would have believed that the previous night had been a dream, but for the blood on the sheets. As it all came back to her, she blushed, smiled and wondered how on earth she was going to plan a wedding in three weeks.

  Michael came in while she was drinking her tea in the drawing room. He stopped in the door, with his hat in his hand, looking very pale.

  “Michael, what are you doing here so early?” she said.

  “I came to pack. I’ve found a room to let.”

  “Oh.” She was surprised, but supposed that she shouldn’t be. He probably wanted privacy and living in Davis’ house wouldn’t do.

  “Is anyone else home?” he asked looking around.

  She shook her head. “I slept later than usual and everyone had left before I was dressed. Did you and Davis have a good time last night? He seemed in a better mood when I saw him.”

  “I thought you said he left before you were dressed.” She blushed as she realized that her wording had been careless. Instead of teasing her, though, he sat down beside her on the sofa. “It was good for us to clear the air,” he said.

  “Clear the air? Did the two of you have a disagreement?”

  “He hasn’t told you? Well, never mind. So he was happy when you saw him?”

  “I heard him in the hall and I just peeked out to check on him,” she lied. “Actually, we did talk a bit. We are getting married at Christmas.”

  Instead of congratulating her, Michael looked disturbed. “That seems rather sudden,” he said.

  Flustered, she quickly answered, “It was Davis’ idea. I don’t know why we’ve waited so long. I suppose he didn’t want to wait any longer.”

  Michael heard the doubt in her voice. “Rebecca, you do love Davis, don’t you?”

  “What a silly question! Of course I do!” When Michael said nothing, her heart began to pound in anxiety. “Did Davis say something last night?” she asked. “About us?”

  “No,” he reassured her. “Other than that he loves you and wants you to be happy.”

  “Of course.” She caught her breath and added, “You were frightening me a little.” Suddenly, Rebecca burst into tears. Michael sat down and put his arms around her, consoling her.

  “Everything will be fine, Rebecca,” he said.

  “I know,” she answered between hiccupy sobs. “It’s just…I just want…everything will be settled once we are married.”

  Neither heard the door open or Susanne slip quietly by. She paused for moment in the hall watching Michael hold Rebecca, patting her back tenderly. Her pain quickly changed to resentment.

  Chapter Seven

  Three weeks was not enough time to plan the wedding Rebecca wanted. It was fortunate that Davis had the money to secure certain necessities. Nevertheless, Rebecca found she would have to settle for her second or third choice on most everything. She wanted blue silk for her dress, but the only acceptable color the tailor had was silvery grey. The elaborate dress she would have preferred required more fittings than time allowed; it would have to be simpler. Though she would have preferred lilies, the old Lord Edderle had not had the greenhouse kept up since his wife’s death and they were not available on the estate. She settled for evergreen and holly swags, accented with snowdrops and Christmas roses, which she knew was more in keeping with a winter wedding. Fewer invitations were to be sent than was originally anticipated and she could not be sure that all the right people would be able to attend.

  To compensate for the wedding she gave up in order to be married when Davis wanted, he gave her a pearl and sapphire necklace and earrings. As she stared at the gift, Rebecca wryly thought how much better the jewelry would have looked with the blue silk.

  The wedding was set for the morning of December 23. Susanne would be Rebecca’s maid-of-honor and Michael would be Davis’ best man.

  Though miserable over the end of her affair with Gordon, Susanne was more disappointed about having to move back to Tundle. She loved London and all its excitement. She knew her chances of marrying someone respectable were now ruined thanks to her own irresponsible behavior and Perry’s gossip. But there were more men in London than Tundle and she had
a better chance of finding someone who was kind and who didn’t know her reputation.

  So when she was not helping Rebecca, who daily resembled less and less the calm sister she knew, Susanne packed her belongings. She started with her correspondence and almost threw the bundle away, believing it all to be from Gordon. But she changed her mind and went through each piece individually. That was when she found the note Michael had given her weeks before.

  Her resentment at seeing the embrace between Rebecca and Michael had abated once she decided that she was angry with herself and jealous of Rebecca’s good fortune. Now she found that she had no real feeling for anything, only numbness. Had the household not been so busy planning a move and a wedding, maybe someone would have noticed.

  She opened the note and finally read what Michael had written to her:

  “Ah, your hair of gold!

  Strands I long to stroke,

  My fingers entwined.

  The fever you woke.

  To drink with a lust

  Your lips of sweet wine

  My kiss on your throat

  Your taste so divine.

  I lie in your arms

  My spirit lover

  So close; I can’t touch

  My dream is over.”

  Michael had moved from the Mayfair home shortly after the wedding preparations began. She didn’t know where he was living now, but Rebecca did. On the pretense of arranging a bridal luncheon, an odd request that the stressed bride didn’t question, Susanne obtained Michael’s address.

  She set off one afternoon, unsure if he would be home, of what she would do if he wasn’t, or of what she would do if he was. She knew proper ladies did not visit a man without a chaperone. But following the rules of proper etiquette hadn’t rewarded her with the proposal she wanted, so she now regarded them as merely a suggestion.

  When Michael answered the door and saw Susanne, he imagined himself grabbing hold of her and never letting go. Instead, he said, “Susanne! What a surprise. How did you find me?”

  “Rebecca told me where you were living.”

  “Rebecca?” he said, obviously a little disappointed. “Did she send you here?”