A Lascivious Lady (3 page)

She sighed. There was no use recanting the past, nor playing the game of ‘should have been’. Her life was what it was. She and Traverson were married in name only, which suited them both. She had her affairs to distract her; he his insects. Their paths rarely, if ever, crossed. It was a suitable arrangement for two people who had absolutely nothing in common except their last names. A sensible one. One that had worked splendidly up until she had seen Traverson at her friend’s wedding and all of her old, confused feelings, long suppressed, had come rushing back…

Drawn back to the present when she heard her maid gently clear her throat, Josephine hurriedly finished her recollection of the events that has just transpired downstairs.

“And then he gave me an insect as a gift.” Pushing herself up from the bathtub that she had been soaking in for the past half hour, she automatically held up her arms and waited until Amelia had wrapped her in a silk robe before she flounced across the room to pick out an outfit.

“An insect? ’E did not!” Amelia’s eyebrows, as bright red as her hair, shot up. “Well, he does like those sorts of creepy crawly things. Mayhap in his mind he was givin’ ye a diamond.” She grinned mischievously. “Or a sapphire. Ain’t them jay beetles blue?”

“Red. And it was a cardinal beetle, not a jay. Honestly Melly, do you ever listen to a word I say?”

The maid shrugged. “I knew it was some sort ah bird. No need tae get cross with me just ‘cause yer cross with the Master.”

Holding a yellow gown with intricate lace detailing at the cuffs and neckline up to her chest, Josephine faced the full length mirror in the corner of the room. “Traverson is not the ‘Master’, and I am not cross with him. I feel nothing for him. Does this wash out my hair?”

“A bit,” Amelia said. Perching on the edge of the neatly made bed, she leaned forward onto her knees and cast an appraising glance at Josephine’s bulging armoire. “Try the plum with the black trim. It brings out yer eyes and ye know how the Master feels aboot yer eyes.”

Tossing the yellow gown aside, Josephine glowered at her maid’s reflection in the mirror. “Melly,” she began, her voice falsely sweet, “do call him that one more time. I positively dare you.”

Nonplussed by her mistress’s threats – Amelia had learned long ago that Josephine loved to give them, but rarely acted upon them – she turned her hand inward and studied her nails, her brow furrowing as she noted they were all chipped short and red from the burning lye soap the wash required. Some day, she thought determinedly, I shall have hands as fine as a lady’s and too many gowns to count.

“Well?” Josephine said expectantly, and Amelia shifted from side to side as she realized she had stopped listening yet again. To be honest it was not a particularly hard thing to do. Whether she admitted it or not, there was only one thing Josephine could complain about for hours on end and that was, of course, the husband she proclaimed to despise with every breath she drew.

Amelia was of the not so silent opinion that that meant Josephine was in love with the handsome Earl, for the few people she truly despised – her father and eldest brother being among them – she never spoke a word about.

“Well what?” Amelia said, glancing up.

“Well what did Traverson say about my eyes? Did he compare them to a dung beetle, or the underbelly of a worm?” Turning sideways in the mirror to admire the plum dress from a different angle, Josephine continued, “Do go on Melly. Tell me what he said! I am in need a good laugh.”

Amelia barely managed not to roll her eyes. “’E said nothin’, mum, but ‘tis clear as day. Why do ye think he looks at nothin’

more than yer face? Yer eyes en-en-en trance him,” she said, taking care with the pronunciation of the new word she had learned yesterday eve during her self imposed studies.

“I do not entrance him,” Josephine scoffed. “He thinks I am ugly.”

Amelia saw the tell tale flash of hurt that crossed Josephine’s face before she expertly disguised it behind her usual mask of coy indifference and shook her head in disgust. Never a more foolish pair had she ever come across than the Master and the Missus. If their love for each other was any more obvious they would be tripping over it. Was there any truer sign of affection than bringing out the worst in your partner?

Mayhap, Amelia thought, her lips pursing, they simply needed a nudge in the right direction. And who better to do the nudging than the one who would benefit the most from their happy union? Dealing with Josephine’s mood swings was becoming a full time job, and Amelia had much better things to do than calm her mistress’s ruffled feathers when the Master made an unexpected appearance.

For one, she had to get about the business of finding a man for herself. She already had her sights set on the son of the local baker, but the scoundrel was proving to be quite elusive…

“Have ye replied to Lady Catherine’s invitation yet, mum?”

Josephine let the purple gown drop and kicked it carelessly aside. “No,” she said, her voice muffled as she rummaged through the armoire for yet another dress. “You know how I abhor the country, Melly. The smells, the animals, the children running amuck.”

Popping back out clutching a pale blue dress this time, she swung to face the mirror and studied her reflection with a critical eye. “I would rather curl up in a hole and die.”

Amelia rolled her eyes again. “No need tae be so dramatic. It is only fer three weeks. Why, that’s barely more than a fortnight!

Not long a’tall.”

“It is nigh on a month,” Josephine corrected her, “and I would rather be roasted alive over a pit of boiling hot lava.”

“Where do ye come up with these things?” Amelia grumbled.

“I have a very active imagination.” Taking the dress, Josephine carefully laid it out length wise across the bed. “This one, I think,” she said, gently touching one sleeve. “With my hair done in ringlets. Do you think it will make me look younger, Melly?”

The hopeful note in her voice was tangible, and Amelia sighed as she got to her feet to help Josephine into the dress. She knew her mistress considered five and twenty to be close to ancient, and worried over her complexion on a near daily basis. Every wrinkle, every spot, every line, whether imagined or not, was something to be bemoaned and cried over.

“But who shall love me when my beauty fades, Melly?” she had asked a thousand times before. “It is all I have.”

Slipping a soft white chemise over Josephine’s head, Amelia followed suit with a corset and began to lace up the back with deft tugs. “Ye are the last person to worry aboot gettin’ older and I think ye should go to visit yer friend in the country. Does she not have a new wee bairn?”

“Two,” gasped Josephine as she sucked in her stomach. “Another set of twins. I have been hoping to avoid meeting them until they are old enough to—ouch, Melly! I can hardly breathe.”

Amelia gave another ruthless tug, pulling the stays to the breaking point. “Ye want to look young, do ye not?”

“Well yes, but I—”

TUG!

After the corset came the petticoat and finally the cornflower blue morning dress. Amelia fashioned Josephine’s hair in a simple chignon, forgoing the ringlets, which took forever to procure with a hot iron and never stayed put.

It was a long, arduous process – one that would be repeated this evening if Josephine chose to go out for the morning dress was not suitable attire to wear in a public venue and if the dress changed, then so did the undergarments, the hair, and of course the jewelry, which Josephine had in spades courtesy of generous admirers.

Huffing out a breath, Amelia pressed a hand to her flushed cheeks and crossed to the window to push it open even more. “Ye should at least pen a letter to yer friend to tell her ye canna come,” she said, refusing to let the matter drop.

“Catherine knows how I feel about the country,” Josephine said as she picked through her jewelry box. Selecting a pair of simple pearl earrings, she held them up for Amelia’s inspection. “What do you think?”

“I think ye should go visit yer friends,” Amelia said stoutly. “Ye have not seen them since Lady Margaret got herself remarried.

What else do ye have to do?”

“What else indeed?” Josephine murmured. “Oh, very well. I will go but—” she held up one finger “—you will be going with me, Melly. And we do not stay one hour past seven days. Agreed?”

Knowing that getting Josephine to agree to go at all was no small victory, Amelia nodded vigorously. Now all she had to do was forge a second invitation, track down Lord Gates, get him to accept, and make certain neither Josephine nor her husband knew they would be going to the same place.

How hard could it be?

To say that Catherine was thrilled upon receiving Josephine’s positive response to her invitation would have been an understatement. The second she had the envelope in her hands and recognized the navy blue seal, she ripped it open, read her friend’s familiar scrawl—

I shall come visit, but only

if you keep those squalling

brats away from me.

All my love, J.

—and ran shrieking into her husband’s study.

Alarmed by his wife’s sudden appearance, in addition to the near ear splitting noises that were coming from her mouth, Marcus set his ledger aside and stood up immediately, his dark brow furrowed and his face paling as his took his exuberant wife by the shoulders and drew her against him.

“Cat, what is it? What is wrong? I swear I was not going to work much longer. I have not forgotten that we are taking the children to the pond at ten—”

Brushing her blond hair from her eyes, Catherine beamed up at her husband and brought her finger to his lips. “No, no, it is not that,” she fairly sang. “It is this!” Thrusting the letter into Marcus’ hands, she danced away to peer out the window that overlooked the sprawling front grounds of Kensington Estate. She smiled as she saw her eldest daughter, Elizabeth, governing over the two youngest, Abigail and Sarah, three years and one month of age respectively. Their newborn brothers, Jacob and Jason, were sleeping upstairs in the nursery under the watchful eye of the nanny.

“Darling,” Marcus said, coming up behind her.

“Yes?” she said absently, leaning into his embrace as he wound one arm around her middle and pulled her snug against his chest.

“Is this letter from your friend Josephine?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“You invited her to come visit?”

“Yes.”

“Does she often refer to our beautiful children as ‘squalling brats’?”

Twisting in her husband’s arms, Catherine smiled up at him and tucked a stray lock of black hair behind his ear. “You know how she feels about children, whether they be ours or not. It is simply the way she is. I think getting her to spend some time in the country will be good for her.”

“Do you?” Marcus said, but Catherine could tell by the dangerous glint in his eye and the roving nature of his hands that the invitation had already been forgotten. Squealing as he cupped her derriere and jerked her tight against his hard frame, she threw her head back, allowing him to nuzzle at her exposed neck.

“Oh… Marcus…,” she moaned as his fingers pulled expertly at the lacings of her dress. “We mustn’t… The children…”

“Are otherwise occupied,” he growled. Slamming the door shut with one arm, he picked her up easily with the other and in a tangle of limbs they tumbled to the floor.

“Are we there yet Melly?”

“Not yet,” came the maid’s disgruntled reply.

“I could have sworn Kensington was closer than this.” Frowning, Josephine pulled the blue velvet curtain aside and peered yet again out the carriage window. The same rolling countryside stared back at her, a seemingly endless stretch of fields dotted with trees, meandering streams, and the occasional wooden fence line. Hissing out a little sigh, she slumped in her seat and pulled at the uncomfortably high collar of her maroon traveling habit.

It seemed as though they had been in the bouncy little carriage forever with no end in sight. Although she could only count on one hand the number of times she had visited her dear friend Catherine (she really did despise the country), she had not remembered it taking this long to get there.

Finally, however, the grand estate with its oak line stone driveway, impressive white pillars, and old, sweeping architectural lines came into view and in what seemed like no time at all Josephine and Amelia had been deposited at the front steps and were watching the carriage drive away, Amelia’s expression one of thinly veiled satisfaction while Josephine’s bordered more on the painfully resigned.

“One week,” she murmured to Amelia under her breath as the front door flew open and not one, not two, but three children spilled out and tottered down the stairs.

Amelia just smiled and knelt to receive the blue eyed, blond haired girls. “Here now,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “Who do we have here?”

The eldest, a miniature replica of her mother, stuck out her chin and boldly pointed at Josephine. “We are here to visit Aunt Jo,”

she declared rather pompously. “And to take her inside for lemonade and sweet cakes.”

For all her talk to the contrary, even Josephine was not completely immune to the charms of an adorable four year old. Bending low, she swept Catherine’s eldest daughter up in her arms and, doing her best to ignore the thought of what the child’s sticky hands would do to her traveling habit, marched inside. “Hellooo!” she called, poking her head in the front parlor. Spotting Catherine standing by the window, she said, “Are you replacing your butlers with children these days? If so, their manners leave much to be desired.”

“Jo!” Spinning on her heel, Catherine all but flew across the room, embracing her friend and daughter in one fierce hug that left them all breathless. “How are you? How was your journey? Not overlong, I hope. Here, let me take Elizabeth. Have you seen the twins?”

“I have her,” Josephine demurred as she settled into a cream colored chair and balanced Elizabeth rather awkwardly on her lap.

“And I believe Amelia took them into the kitchen for a treat.” Gazing down upon the child’s ill contained curls – the dear thing was not even wearing a bonnet – she felt the urge to sweep her fingers through the pale blond ringlets, but stopped herself just in time. Willingly taking a visit to the country and coddling children? It simply would not do. She did, after all, have a reputation to uphold. Still, she could not quite stop herself from leaning forward to nuzzle Elizabeth’s chubby cheek, nor would her hands quiet until she had straightened out the girl’s tiny yellow frock.