One Night Of Scandal by Teresa Medeiros
As Allegra polished off the last of her porridge with a satisfied slurp, her gaze traveled between Hayden and Lottie. "So how did the two of you meet?"
Lottie choked on a mouthful of kipper.
"I believe I'll let Mummy answer that question." Hayden settled back in his chair, the wicked sparkle in his eyes warning her that he was anticipating her answer nearly as much as Allegra was.
Knowing that she couldn't very well blurt out, "I was peeping through your father's window when he mistook me for a courtesan," Lottie blotted her lips with her napkin to stall for time. "Well… although it may seem as if we wed in haste, I was well aware of your father even before we met."
"Is he famous?" Allegra asked, blinking innocently.
"Notorious," Hayden murmured, taking a sip of his coffee.
Lottie's smile felt frozen in place. "Let's just say that he's rather celebrated in certain circles. Which is why I was so very eager to make his acquaintance."
"And was he everything you hoped he'd be?"
"And more." Lottie gave Hayden a smile dripping with acid sweetness.
"So where did you meet?"
"Actually, we met during my debut," Lottie informed the girl, trying very hard not to lie. "Just before the first waltz."
She slumped with relief as Allegra's avid attention shifted to her father. "How did you know you wanted to marry her?"
Even down the length of the table, the look Hayden gave Lottie was as intimate as a caress. "As I'm sure you can see, your stepmother's charms were such that I didn't require much persuasion."
And he hadn't, Lottie supposed. Not unless you counted the dueling pistol Sterling had leveled at his heart. She tore her gaze away from his, shaken not only by his blatant deceit, but by its unsettling effect on her. She would have to guard herself more carefully in the future. Any man who could lie to a child, especially his own, was even more dangerous than she had believed.
To her keen relief, the maid reappeared at that moment to clear away the dishes.
Allegra wiped the doll's mouth, then rose. "May we please be excused, Father?"
"By all means," Hayden replied evenly.
As she departed, cradling the doll to her shoulder as if it were a cherished babe, the maid gaped after her, too engrossed to notice when a stream of chocolate dribbled out of a cup and into Lottie's lap.
"Meggie!" Hayden said sharply.
The girl snapped out of her daze. "Oh, m'lady, I'm so sorry!" She snatched up a napkin and smeared the chocolate deeper into the expensive fabric of Lottie's skirt.
"It's quite all right," Lottie assured the girl as she struggled to wrest the sticky napkin from her fingers.
When the maid had finished her clearing and gone, Hayden leaned back in his chair, a wry smile playing around his lips. "You'll have to forgive Meggie. She's not accustomed to hearing my daughter ask permission for anything. Especially not from me."
"Once we begin our lessons, I'll do what I can to polish her manners."
"I don't give a flying fig about her manners."Hayden slammed his coffee cup down on the table, startling Lottie with his vehemence. "I didn't bring you here to stuff Allegra's head with a lot of rot and nonsense. I want you to teach her languages and history and geography and mathematics. I want you to give her knowledge that might actually be of benefit to her if she ever has to make her way in this world alone."
"Most of society considers the grace to make a proper curtsy and the ability to fill out a dance card correctly the only knowledge necessary to snare a wealthy husband," Lottie pointed out.
"Those skills will be useless to Allegra. She'll never be able to take her rightful place in society or make an advantageous match." Bitterness edged his voice. "Her mother and I made sure of that."
"She's still several years away from her debut. Perhaps if enough time passes…"
His pitying gaze silenced her. "I could keep her cloistered here for the next thirty years, but when she emerged into society, she would still be known as the daughter of a cold-blooded murderer."
Lottie swallowed, not entirely sure if he was referring to the duel that had killed his best friend.
"What I want you to do is develop her mind." An odd shadow passed over his face. "I want you to make it strong. Unbreakable."
Remembering the cunning the child had exhibited by fawning over the bedraggled doll, Lottie murmured, "That shouldn't be too difficult a task."
"I just need to know that after I'm gone, Allegra will be able to look after herself. As long as I'm alive, she'll never want for anything." He studied Lottie's face, his green eyes softening to the warmth of a sunlit glade. "If you'll help me protect her, my lady, nor will you."
He might be making a promise he couldn't keep, Lottie thought after he had sketched her a bow and taken his leave. She was afraid she was already beginning to want for something she could never have.
* * *
After a meandering search of the house turned up no sign of her young charge, Lottie wandered to the basement kitchen, hoping one of the servants might know where to find Allegra. She stepped off the stairs and rounded the corner only to discover Martha and Mrs. Cavendish in a heated discussion. Although their hissed whispers probably weren't carrying to the nervous-looking maids hovering near the fireplace oven, Lottie had only to sidle near enough to read their lips.
"I don't think we should hire the girl," Mrs. Cavendish was saying. The head housekeeper's pale flesh was drawn tightly over her prominent cheekbones, giving her face a sunken look. Had she been one of their teachers at Mrs. Lyttelton's, Lottie and Harriet probably would have unkindly christened her 'Mrs. Cadaver.' "After all, what do we know of the chit, other than that she just showed up on the master's doorstep this morning begging for a position?"
"Well, I say we can't afford not to hire her," Martha said. "We lost three girls last month and another two last night. They fled before dawn without even bothering to pack their belongings. If this keeps up, it'll be just you and me looking after the entire house by summer."
"But the girl has no letters of reference, no experience, and she's blind as a bat. When Giles answered the door this morning, she nearly strangled him with his own cravat because she thought it was still the door knocker. And did you see the way she handled the broom? Why, she stirred up more dirt than she collected! When I handed her the feather duster, she handed it right back to me, saying that both feathers and dust make her sneeze."
"She'll learn quick enough if she wants to eat. If she doesn't, I'll box some sense into her ears."
Mrs. Cavendish drew herself up, her thin nostrils flaring. "Well, I still think it's a mistake."
Looking as if she'd rather like to box Mrs. Cavendish's ears, too, Martha hissed, "Then it's a mistake we'll have to make. What else are we to do? It's only bound to get worse now that he's brought another woman into this house. Even the men are afraid to come out of their quarters after dark. No one wants to risk running into that frightful— "
Lottie must have made some involuntary noise, for both women jerked around to stare at her. They could have looked no guiltier had they been caught nipping from a bottle of cooking sherry.
Mrs. Cavendish was the first to rush forward, the ring of keys at her waist jingling and her thin lipspressed into a solicitous smile. "Oh, my lady, whatever are you doing down here? If you needed something, you had only to ring."
"She's right, dearie." Martha came bustling toward her. "You mustn't forget that you're a marchioness now and old Martha here is at your beck and call."
Before Lottie could catch her breath, the women had surrounded her. Clucking and scolding, they quickly herded her out of the kitchen, leaving her no more time to wonder about the nearsighted new maid who had only sneezing fits and boxed ears in her dismal future.
* * *
Since both Martha and Mrs. Cavendish denied any knowledge of Allegra's whereabouts, Lottie decided to brave the manor grounds. As she slipped out the front door of the house, the harsh wind s
Although her first impulse was to duck right back into the house, she set off at a brisk pace, still thinking about the conversation she had overheard. Despite what Hayden had claimed, apparently she wasn't the only one who had been disturbed by that mournful wailing last night. Nor was it the first time it had occurred. If it happened again, Lottie promised herself she would not go fleeing into the night like those terrified maids. She would somehow find the nerve to return to the spot where she had heard that ghostly music, even if it meant risking another confrontation with her husband.
After a search of the deserted courtyard and neglected gardens yielded nothing, she finally found Allegra perched high in the gnarled branches of an apple tree at the edge of a dying orchard. Lottie's doll lay abandoned at the foot of the tree, sprawled facedown in the dirt.
Shaking her head ruefully, Lottie brushed off the doll's chipped nose and gently propped her against the tree trunk in a sitting position. "Halloo there!" she shouted up at Allegra. "Won't you come down and talk to me?"
The child's sunny demeanor had vanished. "No, thank you," she called out, continuing to gaze toward the distant horizon. "I'm quite content where I am."
Lottie absorbed that information for a moment. "Very well, then. If you don't want to come down, then I'll come up." Having learned her lesson on the night of her debut, Lottie took the time to strip off her shawl and knot her skirts between her legs, fashioning a makeshift pair of pantaloons, before starting up the tree.
She arrived at Allegra's perch, stockings snagged and slightly out of breath, to find the girl eyeing her suspiciously. "I didn't think ladies were allowed to climb trees."
"Ladies are allowed to do whatever they like," Lottie informed her. She leaned forward, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "As long as there's no one else about to see them."
She settled herself between two branches, torn between the curving coastline on one side and the sweeping sea of marsh grass on the other. Even with the wind snatching away each breath before she could take it, she had to admit it was a magnificent view.
Allegra continued to scowl at her. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with my father?"
"Actually, your father was the one who sent me to find you. He thought that I might be able to help you with your lessons."
"I don't have lessons."
Taken aback by the child's brusqueness, Lottie said, "Well then, perhaps it's time you did. I brought some wonderful books from London — Raleigh's The History of the World, Linnaeus's Philosophia Botanica, Savigny's History of Roman Law in the Middle Ages."
"I don't like books."
It was Lottie's turn to look suspicious. She didn't trust anyone who didn't like books. "If you don't like books, then you've never read Castle of Wolfenbach by Mrs. Parsons. It was so thrilling that after I finished it, I refused to sleep without a candle burning by my bedside for over a week."
Allegra sniffed disdainfully. "Martha says that books are a waste of both paper and time and I'd be better served learning how to plant potatoes."
Horrified, Lottie couldn't speak at all for a moment. "Well, if Martha had ever read The Midnight Bell, The Mysterious Warning, or The Murderous Monk, she might not be so quick to dismiss all books as a waste of time and paper!" Remembering that she was supposed to be providing a model of decorum for the child, Lottie struggled to rein in her temper. "Since I haven't had any experience with planting potatoes, why don't we meet this afternoon in the schoolroom before tea for our very first lesson?"
"Very well. It's not as if I have a choice, do I, Mummy?" This time the name was delivered with withering scorn.
"I'm not your mummy, Allegra," Lottie said quietly, "and you needn't pretend I am."
"Then you needn't pretend to like me." The girl hugged one knee to her chest, gazing in the direction of the sea. "Nobody else does."
"I wouldn't say that's entirely true. Your father seems to like you a great deal."
"Ha! He doesn't like me. He only buys me expensive gifts like that silly doll because he pities me."
Lottie frowned, disturbed by the absolute conviction in the child's voice. "You're his daughter. Why on earth would he pity you?"
Allegra turned to look at her, her dark hair blowing in the wind. "Can you keep a secret?"
"No," Lottie responded truthfully.
Allegra rolled her eyes and went back to studying the jagged cliffs scarring the coastline. "He pities me because my mother was mad and I'm going to be mad, too."
Although she was the one who was supposed tobe giving the lessons, Lottie suddenly realized there was much she could learn from this child. She wasn't entirely surprised to learn that Hayden's wife had suffered from insanity. Surely only a madwoman would cuckold a man who could kiss like that.
"Did your father tell you that you were going to be mad?"
"Of course not," Allegra said scornfully. "He won't talk about it at all. He won't talk about anything that matters. But I hear the servants talking about it all the time when they think I can't hear. 'Poor child. She's just like her mama,' they whisper, looking at me and shaking their heads as if I'm blind as well as mad."
"Do you feel mad?" Lottie asked, studying the little girl's sullen face.
Allegra looked taken aback by the question, as if she'd never really considered it before. "No," she finally replied, blinking as if surprised by her own answer. "But I feel angry a great deal of the time."
Lottie laughed as she swung down to the next branch and began to make her way to the ground. "So did I when I was your age. Don't worry. It will pass."
Reaching the ground, Lottie shook out her skirts. She briefly considered rescuing her doll, but after a moment's thought decided to leave her to Allegra's dubious care. Draping her shawl around her shoulders, she started for the house.
"He'll never love you, you know." The wind carried Allegra's voice to her ears. "He'll never love anyone but her."
Lottie tripped over a hillock of grass. Hoping the girl hadn't witnessed her stumble, she resumed her brisk pace, muttering, "We'll just see about that, won't we?"
Chapter 11
I soon learned that there are more frightful horrors in this world than wailing white ladies…
May 25, 1825
Dear Miss Terwilliger,
I am writing to express my profound sorrow for any embarrassment or distress I might have caused you during our years together at Mrs. Lyttelton's. After much earnest soul-searching and painful reflection, I have come to realize that I was not nearly half as clever as I believed myself to be.
While there is a certain amount of vulgar amusement and social cachet among one's peers to be derived from leaving livestock in a bedchamber for an indeterminate amount of time, the cost in both personal belongings and dignity is far too high to be borne. (You really ought to be thankful I only left a pony! I can assure you that a goat has a much heftier appetite, especially for silk undergarments and any blossom or ribbon that might adorn one's favorite hat.)
I can also promise you that having the fingers of your gloves stitched together is not nearly so unpleasant as having the seams of your pantalettes tightened so that your first attempt to sit results in a noise so odious and mortifying it cannot be referred to in polite (or impolite) company.
As I struggle to emulate your unfailing composure, I am beginning to develop a new appreciation for the depths of your restraint. When I feel a scream of outrage bubbling up in my throat or when I find my fingers curling into the precise shape of a dainty little female throat, I think of you and grit my teeth into an indulgent smile. When I find myself testing the blade of my butter knife against
I like to think that you would be proud of the model of virtue and maturity that I have become. Please know that I will always be…
Ever your humble servant,
Carlotta Oakleigh
P.S. Can you recommend something that will take raspberry currant stains out of boot leather?
May 30, 1825
Dear Aunt Diana,
Although we are parted, I know you haven't forgotten that I've a birthday coming up this summer. I was rather hoping you might send me a new bonnet and some lovely unmentionables? (Oh, and a charming little pair of nankeen half-boots would not be looked upon with disdain.)
Your doting niece,
Lottie
P.S. Give Uncle Thane and the twins my love, but please don't mention the unmentionables.
June 4, 1825
Dear George,
How you must have laughed when you learned that your baby sister had become — oh, I can hardly bear to contemplate it! — a mother! You, who always said that I never cared for any child except myself. (Although we both know that's not entirely true, for I've always been very fond of the twins and my own dear niece and nephew, Nicholas and Ellie. And contrary to what you've always said, I don't just adore Ellie because she is the mirror image of myself at that age. She has many other winning qualities, not the least of which is her unshakable belief in her own wit and beauty.)
I'm sure you'll also be surprised to learn that I am conducting myself with the mature refinement and decorum expected from a woman of my station. I strive to set a positive example for my impressionable young stepdaughter, guiding her actions with a firm, but loving hand.
So hold that image of the carefree girl you once called "Sister" (among other things) in your heart, for the tender joys "of motherhood have finally made a woman of her!
Maturely,
Carlotta
P.S. You were wrong about brown spiders. Their bite is not fatal. Not even if one inadvertently finds its way into your shoe.