Secrets and Lords

At the spooning of the green beans, ‘I will expect you.’

She did not dare reply, certain that everyone must see how her cheeks burned and her bosom rose and fell. She kept a very tight grip on all the serving implements and managed not to drop or spill anything, but it was a severe test.

And now, with Lady Deverell watching her every bit as avidly as Sir Charles did, she felt like a hapless pawn, forced into untenable positions wherever she went. This is what it is to be poor, she thought. This is what life is like for so many girls. Poverty robs one of choice.

And if, after yet another day of soul-sapping drudgery, a pretty girl sought out a little pleasure and glamour in the arms of a rich, handsome man, who could blame her? What else awaited her in life but scrubbing and death? Poor Susie Leonard had only done what thousands before her had. Did she regret it? Would Edie?

* * *

She lay awake, her mind a kaleidoscope of confused and conflicting thoughts.

She knew what she had come here for, but now it seemed she had been shown a further purpose.

She got out of bed, once she was sure everybody else was asleep, and tiptoed to the stairs. She stopped several times and thought of turning back, but her need for knowledge and understanding drove her on until she arrived in that fateful East Wing corridor and stood, trembling from head to toe, at the chamber door.

No, she could not knock. What if this was, after all, the wrong door? And, despite how she had planned to proceed, there was no guarantee at all that she would not find herself, very swiftly, in serious danger, all her plans in smithereens.

She took a few deep breaths. This was lunacy. She would find herself on the morning train back to London the very next day, driven by a purse-lipped sad-eyed Ted, her reputation in ruins, her name a byword for scandal.

She stepped back. She would return to her room.

The door opened and she almost screamed, her knees giving way so that she staggered.

Sir Charles looked out at her through the crack, then he held out his hand.

‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ he whispered. ‘Come on. Don’t just stand there.’

‘It’s not what you think,’ she whispered back. ‘It’s a mistake. I’m not …’

‘That kind of girl? Of course. Come in now. Or do I have to come over there and get you?’

She stepped forward and he took hold of her wrist, quickly and firmly, and drew her inside the bedroom.

‘Well, Lady Macbeth,’ he said, cupping her cheeks in his hands, standing far too close.

‘No,’ she said, trying to shake her head free and failing. ‘Don’t touch me.’

‘Don’t touch you? You’ve come to my bedroom in the dead of night and you’re asking me not to touch you?’

‘Please. Not yet.’

‘Oh.’

He dropped his hands from her and cocked his head to one side, examining her through narrowed eyes.

‘What have we here?’ he mused.

Edie felt as if his fingers were still on her skin, still pushing through her hair. She burned in the places he had touched.

‘May I sit?’

He waved a hand towards a sofa in the corner.

‘I’ve brandy in the bedside cupboard if you’d like …’

‘No, no.’

He sat down beside her and took her hand in his, despite her attempts to pull it away.

‘So, then – what is it you want to say to me?’

She couldn’t speak at first, her courage ebbing away, but when he began to stroke her fingers, she found her nerve and blurted it out.

‘I don’t think you should be doing … what you’re doing … with Lady Deverell.’

He squeezed her fingers tight and let out an incredulous little laugh.

‘I fail to see how it’s any of your business … what was your name again? … Edie.’

‘Actually, I think it is my business. I think it’s everyone’s business because we all have to live in this house and if Lord Deverell finds out …’

‘He won’t.’

‘He’s your father. And she’s your father’s wife.’

Charles was silent for a moment, then he tapped Edie’s fingers.

‘Do I detect the heady scent of blackmail, Edie? Because I can assure you that you don’t want to get on the wrong side of me. You don’t want that at all.’

‘No. No, you’ve completely misunderstood me. I’d never blackmail anyone.’

‘Good.’

He was so close to her. Their thighs touched, his in silky robes, hers in a coarse linen gown. He smelled off-puttingly masculine. His scent wound itself into her resolve, weakening it and strengthening it at the same time.

She liked having her hand wrapped in his. She liked it so much she wasn’t sure she could stand his letting go of it. He was some kind of sorcerer, casting a malign spell on her … why hadn’t she known one could feel like this?

His forehead brushed hers. If she wasn’t careful, she would let him kiss her before the time was right. She had already accepted, at the very depths of her, that the kiss was inevitable. But she could at least put it off until she had stated her case.

Pull yourself together, Edie.

‘So you refuse to stop … consorting with your stepmother?’ she said sharply.

He burst out laughing.

‘Consorting? What kind of housemaid are you? You’re the quaintest little thing. It’s rather appealing.’

‘Please. I’m quite serious.’