How to Handle a Scandal (16 page)

She worked for a while until her dinner tray arrived, bearing a golden chicken pie whose decadently thick crust looked richer than anything she’d eaten in years, apple compote, and a generous portion of… Could it be? Yes!
Trifle
.

At Truehart Manor, their dessert was usually an apple, or if everyone had been very good, some simple bread pudding or a small plate of biscuits. She would never have so indulged as to serve trifle, with the thought that what you never ate, you didn’t miss.

She snatched up her spoon and scooped up an enormous bite. Who cared if it was childish to eat her sweets first, or if she would become plump? Not she.

Her eyes closed in pleasure as the sherry-flavored custard and bits of cake filled her mouth. It was heaven, absolute heaven. She took another marvelous bite, then guzzled some of the red wine, which was excellent. Then she licked her spoon and broke greedily into the crust of the chicken pie, which gave way in luscious, fragrant chunks.

She put a spoonful in her mouth, feeling something crumbling inside her. All those years of denying herself, all the times she’d said no to the girls at Truehart Manor—why had she needed to be so hard? She’d made so many rules to live by. What a waste.

She sniffed and drank some more wine, which eventually made her feel a little better, and she finished the chicken pie, the apples, and the trifle.

Cook was clearly a marvel, and it was nothing short of amazing that she’d come to work at Hellfire Hall, a place with a reputation as the derelict lair of pirates. She supposed the news that the recently knighted and oh-so-handsome Sir Tommy Halifax was the new owner had enticed the woman, along with several other of the more capable servants, to take employment at the hall. The knowledge shouldn’t have annoyed her—after all, she was benefitting from the high-quality staff. But it felt good to give herself permission to be annoyed with Tommy after all those years of atoning.

The next morning, she arose early and breakfasted alone in the dining room, stifling any urge to ask after the whereabouts of her husband.

“I hope to purchase quite a few things to make the manor more comfortable,” Eliza told Mrs. Hatch as she pulled on her gloves, having called for the carriage.

“Er,” Mrs. Hatch said, “I think Sir Tommy may have arisen, if you were wanting to wait for him to join you.” The poor woman seemed dismayed that her newlywed master and mistress appeared to be uninterested in each other. Eliza appreciated her hopefulness—what servant wouldn’t prefer working for a happy couple rather than an unhappy one?—but she knew Mrs. Hatch was going to be sadly disappointed.

“Can’t delay,” Eliza said breezily, stepping outside.

She was glad to find that the town was a place of significant size, and as she passed through the streets, she felt cheered by the numbers of people bustling about amid handsome shops and rather a fine auction house.

Though sadness over what she’d lost lingered, she kept it at bay by focusing on the changes she planned to make at Hellfire Hall. She briefly wondered if they ought to change the name, in the interest of presenting a better public face. But she doubted Tommy would want to—he seemed to like it. And truth be told, she
liked
that it sounded wicked.

Though she had thought to make purchases just for the drawing room and her own bedchamber and Tommy’s, when the master of the auction house revealed that they’d just taken delivery of the goods from a substantial estate, she decided that she liked the idea of Tommy getting a bill for enough carpets to cover every room in the hall.

In the draper’s shop she found lengths of a rich sage fabric that she thought would look quite fine on the walls, along with some other handsome fabric in deep pink, and she bought large amounts. She chose heavy cream brocade for the curtains in the bedchambers, and she was just settling with the draper about sending the shockingly large bill to her husband when she glanced out the storefront window and saw Tommy standing in the street.

He was not alone. With him was a brown-haired woman wearing a fashionable hat and cloak, and even from inside the shop Eliza could see that she was pretty.

As Eliza watched, Tommy threw back his head and laughed at something the woman must have said. The only time Eliza had made him laugh had been when he thought she was Victoria.

Eliza sucked her teeth, wondering who the woman was. What if they were lovers? Though would he really have had the time, she asked herself, and then called herself a fool. For how much time, really, would the handsome, swashbuckling Sir Tommy Halifax, toast of all England, need to charm a woman?

“Lady Halifax, will there be anything else?” the shopkeeper asked.

She asked if he could have everything sent to Hellfire Hall (she thought he flinched at the name) by early the next morning, and when he assured her he could, told him to include a large tip on his bill.

She left the shop, and Tommy saw her approaching, which was doubtless why his companion moved on before Eliza reached him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Buying things for the hall.”

He nodded once, then seemed at a loss for words. Finally he said, “You’re looking better.”

She nodded. Here they were, the two of them nodding at each other as though they had nothing to say.

Oh, there were certainly things to say, but the most important of them were words she could never speak to him. How could he understand the love she’d developed for her baby over the brief weeks of her pregnancy? And why would he care about the hopes she’d cherished, the visions of a sweet infant in her arms, the happy thoughts of her baby’s first word?

He hadn’t wanted the baby, and he certainly hadn’t been filled with fancies of love and hope. For him the whole thing had been nothing but an unwanted fork in the road of his life.

And now they must somehow move forward, which meant establishing some reasonable state for this marriage in which they found themselves.

“Who was that you were talking to?” she asked.

“Mrs. Clarkson.”

“Making friends already?”

“She’s staying with some of the neighbors. I met her at dinner the other night.”

She pressed her lips together, annoyed at her peevish-sounding words. But she
did
feel a little peevish that he’d been out making friends while she’d been lying unhappily in bed.

She tried for a pleasant tone. “Perhaps we should have your new friends to dinner, once the manor is fixed up. It’s a good idea to get to know the neighbors.”

“Maybe,” he said, though his tone told her it wasn’t going to happen.

She sighed. They were on the main street of the town, and people were coming and going all around them. “Tommy”—she dropped her voice—“we’re newlyweds. Don’t you think we should act as such, at least for appearances?”

The corners of his mouth tilted in mockery. “You always were concerned with appearances.”

She could feel her mouth tightening with hurt that he thought so poorly of her, but she knew he had good reason, and she forced her expression to remain mild.

“What do you intend, then?” she pressed. “We’re married, and we’re sharing the same house for the time being. Will it be heavy silences and avoiding each other until you leave for India?”

“Is that how it was in your last marriage?”

“No,” she said. “Gerard and I were very good friends.” And she was beginning to think that she and Tommy must find some way to be friends of a sort as well. Or at least something a little better than barely civil.

Something flickered in his eyes, but he didn’t reply.

“We need to talk,” she said in a low voice, aware that any scene they made would provide juicy gossip for the people of the community, none of whom knew her yet. Though she was ready to abandon her allegiance to propriety, that didn’t mean she wanted to make herself into an outcast. “But not here.”

He crossed his arms and propped a shoulder against the tree behind him. “Here is fine for me. What did you want to talk about?”

“Nothing that can’t wait until we are both at—”

“Home?” he supplied with a meaningful smirk.

“Yes,” she said crisply. “Home is what couples usually call the place where they’re living.”

“It’s just a house, Eliza,” he said. “Don’t think you’re going to make it into anything more.”

She watched as he walked off in the direction of the tavern. Then she went into the bookshop and bought several shelves’ worth of books from the shopkeeper’s storage. If she couldn’t make any impression on Tommy’s mind, at least she could make one on his pocket.

Tommy left the tavern late that afternoon, having bought several rounds of ale for those present and met more of his neighbors. He knew he’d lingered in the tavern to avoid Eliza, which was a stupid thing to do since he’d shortly see her at Hellfire Hall. But he was having trouble accepting that he had a wife.

Wives were for settled men. They brought wifely concerns, like talk of dishes and cutlery. And babies, of course, though now that was no longer an issue.

It wasn’t that he was glad about what had happened with the baby, which he supposed was what she thought. He just hadn’t been able to make peace with the idea of becoming a father before she’d had the miscarriage.

He’d dreamed of her last night, the first time that had happened since he’d left for India as a besotted youth, and he’d awoken with his teeth clenched in refusal.

Now that she’d gotten up from her sick bed, she seemed different. Contrary. She certainly wasn’t trying to maintain a decorous look now; she’d been wearing another snug pink gown that showed the tops of her breasts. And her hair had been in a girlish plait that had made him think of untying the ribbon fastening and running his hands through it, damn it all.

She stirred far too many feelings he didn’t want: attraction, the need to protect her because she now carried his name, and the dregs of his anger. He was sorry about what had happened with the baby, but he damned well didn’t want to talk about it, if that was what she had in mind.

He took the long way back to Hellfire Hall, stopping by the houses of several tenants to visit with the families and check on the progress of some repairs he’d commissioned. The estate had been sorely neglected, which he’d known when he’d bought it, but the buildings had all been solidly constructed, so while the tenants’ homes were old, they were at least sturdy.

He’d already told his manager to arrange for new roofs and paint and fencing for most of the houses, and he was pleased to see, as he rode past several of the homes, that work had already begun.

By the time he’d turned his horse toward the manor, it was late and the weak autumn light was beginning to fade. As he drew near the hall, the welcome scent of hot, fresh bread mingled with a delicious roasted aroma met him, the best thing he’d smelled since he left behind the curries of India.

After stabling his horse, he made for the door that led to the kitchen, where his appearance surprised Cook.

“Sir Tommy!” the woman said as she turned from a hot oven with a roasting pan in her arms.

There were plates of various foods on the table—quite a lot more than would be needed by one gentleman and his wife—and among them was a plate of fresh rolls. He swiped one and took a bite.

“Delicious.” He gestured with the remaining portion of roll. “What’s all this, then? Looks like enough for a feast.”

“Mrs. Hatch and her ladyship had some recipes to try, sir.”

And then he saw the mountain of vegetables behind her.

“Those aren’t for dinner, are they?” he said, indicating the mound of turnips and carrots.

“Well, yes, Sir Tommy. Mrs. Hatch ordered turnips, carrots, and mushrooms.” Cook beamed, unaware she’d just named three of his least favorite foods. “They’re to be roasted with thyme. And there will be a nice salmon as well.”

Salmon? Vegetables? Since he’d made his preferences known to Mrs. Hatch, who’d prepared the menus accordingly until today, he had no doubt as to who was ordering all this food he disliked.

He stalked upstairs in search of his wife, who was nowhere to be seen. Instead, when he walked into the upstairs corridor, he discovered a vast collection of rolled-up carpets and two footmen engaged in picking one up.

“What’s going on?” Tommy asked.

“Carpets were delivered this afternoon, sir, with more to come tomorrow,” one of the men said. “Lady Halifax asked us to start putting them in the bedchambers right away.”

He barely managed not to growl as he asked, “And do you know where Lady Halifax is at present?”

“She was in the drawing room not long ago, sir,” one of the footmen said hesitantly, as though he would have preferred not to divulge her whereabouts to her angry-looking spouse. Evidently, Eliza was already charming the staff.

When he entered the drawing room, however, instead of his wife, what Tommy found was that his previously dark and manly sanctum was now draped in pink hangings.

Pink!

Feeling murderous, he sent an anxious-looking maid in search of Eliza. She returned to say that the mistress was in the garden.

Teeth grinding nearly to powder, Tommy went out to the garden behind the manor, where dusk was settling in. The place was hideously overgrown, with tall weeds and ugly shrubs everywhere. Drooping clumps of hollyhock stalks and tangles of raspberry canes took up a large portion of the rear of the garden, where Eliza was kneeling in front of a scraggly shrub. Not far from her, one of the footmen was hacking at a small tree that appeared to be dead.

She was wearing a blue coat against the early evening chill and a brimmed hat and gardening gloves. Her plait lay over her shoulder prettily and made him annoyed that she’d been working like that with a footman nearby to look his fill if he wished.

Eliza looked up at his approach, then returned to what she was doing. Her coat was decorated here and there with bits of dried leaves and debris, and he tried not to notice the way the garment shaped itself to the curves of her waist in her bent posture, or that there was something very feminine about the motions of her arms as she yanked at some weeds near the base of the rosebush.

He stopped just in front of her, and she looked up at him. “Just what do you think you are doing?” he demanded.

She turned to the footman, who was still hacking at the tree. “Thank you, Robert. That will do for today.”

Robert—Tommy admitted with irritation that he hadn’t known the man’s name—tried to hide his horrified expression at the way his employer was addressing his bride and left.

“Well?” Tommy said.

She stood and brushed herself off. His eyes were drawn reluctantly to the open front of her coat, where her gown clung to the lush curve of her bosom. He swallowed. The crease between her breasts teased his eyes downward toward a seductive, shadowy depth, and he chalked his instant flare of heat up to those months and months of wanting her when he was younger.

He adored Anna, but she’d done something diabolical to him when she packed Eliza’s valise.

He tore his gaze away from her chest and realized his teeth were clenched again. He needed to stop doing that or there’d be nothing left of them by the end of a week in her company.

“I’m gardening, obviously,” she replied.

“I can see that, though why you feel the need to do so when it’s nearly dark, I can’t guess.”

“Since no one has cared for this estate for years, there is rather a lot to be done. Though I was just about to stop for the day.” Her reasonable tone only made his temperature inch higher.

“Why are you wearing your hair like that?”

She just stared at him for a moment. “Because I wish to.”

He supposed he should be glad she chose to ignore his question about her hair, but if she glanced down, the front of his trousers would tell her he was far too affected by the way she looked.

“There is a massive pile of carpets in the upstairs corridor,” he ground out, “and Cook is under the mistaken impression that mountains of vegetables and fish are wanted for dinner. Don’t you think it would have been appropriate to discuss your plans with me?”

“I did discuss my plans with you, yesterday morning. You said I could do as I saw fit. So I’m making a few changes.”

Lust and irritation warred in him, making him even more cross. “A few changes? There’s pink fabric on the drawing room walls! And now you’re ripping out the bushes. The next thing I know, there will be flowers everywhere.”

She gave him a look, and the corner of her rosy mouth quivered saucily. “It’s October, Tommy. You don’t have to worry about flowers blooming any time soon, though you know, some people like them. But if you have a particular fondness for weeds, by all means, I can leave them.”

He crossed his arms. “What about the fish for dinner? I don’t like fish, as I’ve already informed Mrs. Hatch.”

“Doubtless you’ve only had fish that was either not fresh or badly cooked. Salmon is delicious when it’s been cooked nicely, and it’s good for you.”

He just grunted.

“I
am
the new mistress of Hellfire, as you yourself have already pointed out,” she said in that reasonable tone. “These are the sorts of decisions I’m supposed to make.”

“The garden is satisfactory as it is,” he said. “As was the drawing room.”

“I suppose so, if one is intent on living in a mean way. But I”—she tipped her chin up, as if asserting something—“don’t wish to live in a mean way.”

He disliked a cheeseparing household too, and had never been stingy about expenses. But when he’d bought the estate, he’d envisioned making a few improvements and renting the place for a number of years until he was ready to live there—not making it into something that felt like a home.

And he hadn’t thought Eliza would be quite so energetic about making changes, especially considering how poorly she’d looked yesterday morning. He was glad that the color had come back to her cheeks, though; it made him feel better about arguing with her.

“And the wall hangings—how much did they cost?”

“Practically nothing for one as wealthy as you. Or is it us?” she said. She shook her head. “No, no, it’s you. I lost my personhood when we married, so for the purposes of the law,
we
are Tommy Halifax.”

“That’s an odd way to put it.”

“But accurate. Society allows you, as a man, to go where you please and do as you wish. As a widow, I enjoyed quite a bit of that kind of freedom, but now that I’m a married woman, all my property and my considerable wealth are yours.”

He pressed his lips together. “I won’t stop you spending what you wish, within reason.”

“But don’t you see that now I’m meant to live my life in relation to you and your choices? What does that sound like to you?”

“If you’re waiting for me to say ‘slavery,’ you’ll wait forever,” he snapped.

She sighed and pulled off her gardening gloves, tucking them into the pocket of her coat. “You and I are in a situation that neither of us would have chosen. We’ve pledged ourselves to each other, and now we’re stuck together until death do us part. I think we’d both be better served if we could try to be friends of a sort.”

Friends?

How well
that
had worked out the first time around.

He knew it was senseless to consider that time now; they’d both been so young. But it was part of his memory of her. And he’d hardly been back in England a fortnight when the Victoria episode had occurred, an episode that had seemed like just another of her scandalous larks, another play for attention.

His conscience pointed out that he’d been a very eager participant in what had happened at the brothel, and that maybe she’d meant well by trying to handle the consequences on her own, even if she’d been entirely wrong to try to exclude him.

But he didn’t need help from his conscience right now—he needed to keep distance between himself and Eliza. In another month or two they were both going back to their own lives, and the less they got entangled with each other, the better.

“And what if I don’t wish to be friends?” he asked.

She looked at him steadily. “Then I think it would be best if I returned to London immediately.”

His jaw hardened. “You know you can’t do that. Anna and Will would be devastated if they discovered we’re not besotted newlyweds. Never mind the questions they would have for both of us.”

“Maybe it would be easier on everyone if we just told the truth.”

He didn’t like that idea, and he especially didn’t want to discuss any of what had happened between himself and Eliza with his brother. “It wouldn’t be easier. And you can’t just go about as you like now.”

“And yet you can.”

He sucked his teeth. She was right; it was unfair.

He’d always felt that marriage, if it was to work at all, ought to be a partnership like his brother and Anna had. They were united by affection and the desire to see the other one happy, which meant that neither of them would ever want to be more important or freer than the other. But those sorts of happy partnerships were impossibly rare, one in a million.

He shrugged. “That’s the way the world works. You know that.”

“We don’t have to go along with the way the world works,” she said. “We can make our own way.”

Her gaze held steady, as though she had faith in her own opinion, and he felt a grudging acknowledgment that perhaps Eliza had grown into a person with some reasonable, well-founded ideas. He hadn’t wanted to believe that under the cloak of propriety she’d fashioned for herself, she might have truly changed. But now he couldn’t reconcile his idea of her as a selfish siren masquerading as a do-gooder with the woman who’d been so profoundly affected by the loss of the baby she’d barely known. Or this woman with the backbone to stand up to him and speak as forthrightly as she’d done.

There was something for which he owed her an apology.

He cleared his throat. “That night at Madame Persaud’s—you really were there just to gather information, weren’t you?”

She blinked, clearly surprised he’d brought it up. “Yes. Going there didn’t seem very different from going to the poorer parts of London where Meg and I found orphaned girls we could help at Truehart Manor.”

“I made harsh judgments about your reasons for being at Madame Persaud’s, and I’m sorry.”

She had gone very still. “I understand why you thought the worst of me. Of course I accept your apology.”

* * *

Eliza didn’t know why Tommy had apologized, but she was grateful for this sign that he saw her as someone possibly deserving of respect.

“You really wanted the baby,” he said quietly.

“Yes. I thought I’d accepted that I’d never have children, but it turned out that I hadn’t.” She looked away as huskiness crept into her voice. She’d felt some power growing in her since she’d realized she didn’t care about being perfect anymore, but the baby was a loss that was still painful. “The baby meant so much to me.”