The Veiled Heart (The Velvet Basement Book 1) (17 page)

“There is one thing I have learned, sweetheart, and that is you can’t wind it all back. You need to look forward, plan your project.” He kissed her head. “Enjoy the love of a good man.”

Her arms hugged him tighter. But he didn’t deserve it. Literature may be scattered with tales of good men being fooled by evil. He could even blame his conservative upbringing where the niceties of social protocols kept anything dark under the carpet and away from the light. But looking back, he should have known sooner, acted sooner than he did.

The darker and harder thought was almost impossible to think about. What if Freddy knew, what if Maurice had told Freddy how he felt about Miriam?

“There are no good men to marry. I plan to stay single.”

“What about your brother? Maurice would have been there for you.”

She said nothing at that.

“I just know that I will never trust a man of my station again, ever.”

“Never? Perhaps you will surprise yourself.”

God, he hoped she would. She was strong-willed, would not have survived as she had if she wasn’t. But for this to work between them, she needed to see beyond the rules and statements that gave her the courage to come back to life. See them for the rungs they were and move on from there.

“Now, you need to sleep. Get fit and well for the Worthington ball. I want my slice of flesh. You promised me anything, Lily, and I intent to take it at that ball.”

“I am thinking of changing my mind, of not going.”

He stilled.

“Why?”

“He, Lord Worthington, is just someone I don’t even want to see, let alone be in his house accepting his hospitality.”

Pain and anger laced through him at those words.

“You don’t even know him, Lily. Keep an open mind.”

She moved to get up and he held her against his chest. He didn’t want her to see his face.

“Max, you don’t understand. He was Freddy’s roommate in Oxford. They were considered inseparable. How could I trust a man who would befriend Freddy like that? He would know, most likely was the same to have been so close.”

And there it was, the social working of the female telegraph.

“I hate him.”

“You haven’t even met him.” His heart beat faster and, inside, his chest actually hurt. Real physical pain that she believed this.

Lily flopped down on the pillow next to him.

“Does it matter? I hate the idea of him. He could be a half-decent man.” She snorted. Like that last notion was an impossibility.

He got up off the bed, dressed in his waistcoat, and went over to retrieve his shoes.

“I think of him as the closest man to my husband. I think about how much I wanted to punish Freddy; how much I just want to hit him for all the times I was hit. Worthington embodies all of that to me. I hear his name and my fists curl.”

He sat on the chair, unlaced his shoes, and then slowly put them on.

Then leaned back in the chair and looked at her.

Would she be able to see him and still care for him when she found out who he was? Even if she was able to overcome that, he needed a wife. Could she marry again? Marry and carry the name of the one person she associated with her husband.

When he had been in America and heard about Freddy’s death, it was easy. Come back, meet her, and win her. Have what he wanted all those years ago. Then they’d met so randomly in the sex shop and here he sat with his heart on a platter. In four days, she would walk up the receiving line where he and his mother would be standing and be introduced to the only living man she believed she could hate for her husband’s crimes. Him.

“I think it’s time to head off. You need sleep and you need a doctor. I will be at the ball, Lily, and I expect you to keep your word and come sans pantaloons.”

Her face softened at that. A woman to be won via her passion.

He leaned down, kissed her forehead, ran his hand over her cheek and across her hair.

If they couldn’t get through this, tonight may be the last chance he ever had to see her like this. He leaned down and pulled her up kissing her hard. He put her back down breathless and flushed.

“Promise me that when you see me at the ball, you will remember me tonight.”

“I will never think ill of you as a waiter; you know that.”

“I would have been happy if you had said you would never think ill of me.”

“Stop fidgeting, Miriam,” Aunt D said from the opposite bench of the carriage.

The carriage rocked and swayed as they sat opposite each other, their dresses arranged to avoid creases as they rode to the ball.

Miriam placed her hands in her lap. Aunt D was right; she had been pulling at her gloves and tugging at her skirts since they’d left the house. She couldn’t help it; too many feelings were swirling around all at once.

Future patrons would be there. She wondered how to identify them, how to bring up her interests and ideas, and if she should even do that in this setting or make a note to follow up later. Then there was Max and the uncertainly of what he would do, what they would do in a quiet corner if they found each other and if he could mastermind such a feat. She had come as he requested—sans pantaloons.

But the thing which was worrying her the most was the meeting with Worthington. Her dislike for him was built on her own assumptions. She’d needed to focus all the overflow of anger she held for Freddy onto someone. Max’s annoyance with her about her views had made her think that she was being presumptuous and perhaps terribly unjust. However, that didn’t change the fact they were close; and being close to Freddy was not something that you did over the course of a lifetime and not know who he was.

In fact, quite a few of Freddy’s friends would be there. Altogether, it made for a mix of excitement, nervousness, and agitation.

And another thing was going through her mind: she didn’t feel like Miriam any more. She felt like Lily. Lily lived a life Miriam was denied. Lily thrived while Miriam merely survived.

“I am thinking of using my middle name.”

Aunt D. pulled a face. “Winifred is not a name you take by choice, dear. Miriam will do fine.”

Miriam was a perfectly reasonable name. She’d worn it all her life, but things had changed. She had changed and she wanted something to mark that. Mark her in a way that would confirm to her that she was different. And she was. She’d had taken the first steps; but Max had been the forging agent. Regardless of whether she could keep him or not, she wanted to be reminded that she was who she was right now because of Max and what they shared, to know that every day.

“I want to be called Lily.” A flutter ran through her at that. Yes, she did want to be called Lily. She loved it. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted it. The more she wanted to be Lily all the time.

“Lily isn’t your middle name.”

“It could be.”

“But it isn’t. Everyone knows everyone’s list of names; and you calling yourself Lily just isn’t done. Don’t talk nonsense, Miriam. It just agitates me. All this fuss. I may have to go home early.”

Miriam felt bad straight away. Aunt D was no doubt feeling her own anxieties, not having been out to a ball in well over a decade herself.

“I will come back whenever you are ready, Aunt D.”

“That’s what I’m worried about. You need to be out and about. Show the world you are free and remind them of your beauty.”

She did look rather lovely tonight in a burgundy ball gown, cut low and wide over the shoulders. Jet beads were sewn into it, making it shimmer and matching a jet neck choker and small diamond-tipped pins sparkling like stars in her hair. She wanted to look good for the event, of course, but she wanted Max to see her looking beautiful. She had been sick at their last meeting, and it irked her that she had cried.

“No matchmaking; I will abandon you if you do.”

“You were never such an ungrateful girl before you were married. You were full of life and vigor to please. Cultivating that would go a long way to attracting a good man.”

“Hum. It seems to me, if that is what a good man requires, you would need to question what made a good man.”

“Miriam. Please, try to curtail some of your views as we head into public. They will not be met with welcome ears.”

“I don’t believe widespread popularity or being viewed as suitable wife material is what I am seeking.”

“That’s nothing to be too pleased about.”

It seemed a perfectly reasonable position to hold but she understood what Aunt D needed.

“I’ll be pleasant, charming even.”

The carriage rolled up toward the Worthington house and stopped almost a block away, inching forward as the stream of carriages moved through the front circle and unloaded passengers, three, four, and sometimes five carriages deep under the portico. In addition, the road was harried with congestion as cabs and carriages tried to get in and out.

If it were up to her, she would simply step out and walk the few hundred yards, but her aunt was not as mobile. And enough debris to avoid would be left by the horses around the entrance, let alone walking from further away.

Balls were a rather strange collection of beauty, of all sorts of beauty; but then as the night progressed, there would be a progressive folding back of that veneer to show the human condition.

The room would be beautiful. Everyone would be beautifully presented and they would push forward into an enormous room and sweat.

As the night wore on, they would all sweat their well-pressed fineness away and the raw earthy nature of their bodies would come to the surface. Oh, they were all doused in perfume. Carried small, refreshing handkerchiefs. The bathrooms would fill, powder would be puffed about to take off the sheen and damp marks would circle under arms and down the crease of backs. Yet, it was as if everyone was trained to overlook all of that and instead remember everyone as they had first walked in. The golden veil of blindness, a powerful tool in the hands of a predator.

“Miriam, you act as though we are part of a wake not a ball.”

Miriam beamed at her aunt. There was no point in relaying her thoughts; her cynicism would not be shared or understood. However, her aunt was right; there was a lot to enjoy tonight.

“It’s just been a long time. I am a bit nervous.”

Aunt D nodded and checked their progress through the carriage window.

Miriam had to admit, she loved to dance; and if truth be told, she liked the attention she used to get too. She was attractive; but now that she knew what a man and a woman felt like together, what it could be like with the right man, those appreciative looks had an entirely different impact.

“Come on, let’s do our game.” Her aunt loved playing this. “It’s a good opportunity to think of all the witty things we need to say to all the predicable questions. Remarkable weather we have been having.” Miriam started and laughed despite herself. It was ridiculous but she enjoyed it.

“Yes, the swallows are all in bloom,” her aunt replied. And small dimples appeared on her cheeks as she smiled.

“The cloud banks have been most comprehensible,” Miriam added.

“The farmers have a resplendent tan.”

“The cows have faded spots.”

“The flowers are turning their heads faster this year.”

They laughed.

Aunt D leaned over and patted her knee. “You are a good girl, Miriam.”

They played the game as she was learning to enter society and even during her come-out. The one who came up with the most ridiculous phrase was queen of the day, which meant they could decide on dessert.

“If I actually end up saying one of them tonight, I intend to take my revenge, Aunt D.”

“Nonsense, everyone will be saying all kinds of ridiculous things; they won’t even notice. These events are all about spending a whole night speaking and ensuring you say nothing.”

But the effect was what Miriam had hoped. Aunt D relaxed, stopped worrying about her, and settled into thoughts of the night ahead.

As did she.

Finally, they were close enough to alight and make their way over to the entrance. The large standalone building boasted Grecian columns and a large circular entrance, which swept under a portico that could house three carriages deep and two long. Reportedly, the house had more guest rooms than family and friends to fill it, all beautifully furnished and many with side parlors attached.

Tonight the ballroom would be dusted down. And the kitchens, which were capable of feeding a battalion of servants and guests in a single night, would be overflowing with staff and aromas that had been days in the making.

All in all, Miriam had to admit she was impressed. It was old money, very old money, even if the current master of it was second cousin removed of the original heirs.

She and Freddy had kept a modest residence in London. A large family house, and one, by all rights, they should have moved into was also in London; but Freddy said he was reluctant to send his mother away, and as she found out later, he wouldn’t have the privacy to do as he pleased with her if his mother was with them in the larger family home.

“Quite remarkable isn’t it, Miriam? The size of the portico is rather impressive.” Aunt D looked around pointing out elements of the house as they rubbed shoulders with the crowd and made their way through the large double entrance doors.

The foyer was full, lights were blazing and large urns polished to a high shine held exotic flowers that would have emptied a good-sized greenhouse. Staff collected coats, capes, shawls, hats, and canes. And a receiving line inched up the wide marble stairs into the main ballroom.

A serpent twisted around her gut. The tension at meeting Worthington was mounting. The fault was her own; she had built him up in her mind. Almost as if he was some part of Freddy who still lived.

They handed over their coats to the staff and took their place in the receiving line.

“Try to look happy, Miriam,” Aunt D whispered.

That called a smile to action, which Miriam pasted on her face. If Freddy had taught her nothing else, it was to perform on demand. To gaze at him with affection, to smile at his jokes, to laugh with all the pleasure she was slowly losing the capacity to feel. There should be a sense of pride to have mastered that; many didn’t and simply disappeared from society.

The Worthingtons were receiving just inside the ballroom door; and as it was, she couldn’t see any of them as she moved slowly up the receiving line. No way to lessen the impact of seeing what he looked like.

Aunt D said he had been at their wedding, but for some reason she couldn’t recall him, how he looked. So many elements of that day were washed away with the reality that unfolded in the wedding bed. The pain, the tears, and Freddy’s obvious pleasure in both of those responses.

Freddy had stood over her, her nightgown ripped. Blood on the sheet from how hard he had taken her. She’d known then that her sobs and pleas were exciting to him, but she hadn’t developed the skill to push it all under. Freddy had looked down at her, smeared the blood from the corner of her mouth across her cheek as if he was a master painter. ‘Perfect! I couldn’t have asked for a better wedding night. Shall we go for another round, sweet? What do you say? Really break you in so we know where we stand.’

He’d slapped her very hard, but the pain was nothing compared to what followed. He’d flipped her over and done the unthinkable.

The memories seemed to be rushing out with every step they took closer to the door, closer to the man she believed to be the closest thing to Freddy.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” she whispered.

“Nonsense, dear. Just smile, I’ll do the talking, then we will be in and you can dance. Feel alive again. You need that more than all your plans and projects.” Aunt D’s hand found hers and squeezed. “I want to see you dance, Miriam. You were such a wonderful sight on the floor. Tonight, I want you to show me that girl again. She’s been gone a very long while now.”

Freddy had thought she looked great on the dance floor.

Panic built in her chest as it tightened and her breath became shallow. Miriam looked around. Was Max here? She needed to see Max. Her gaze looked out over everyone as she and Aunt D moved two steps higher in the receiving line.

Then there he was, Max. In the far corner near the coat and hat room. Almost out of sight, but she knew him, knew his build exactly.

A wave of need washed over her. She wanted nothing more than to press her face against his chest, hear the slow beat of his heart, feel the solid rise and fall of his chest. Just seeing him made the tension coursing through her sink back down. She could do this.

Max stepped forward just enough for his face to catch the light.

He was immaculately dressed in black and white. Nothing about him remotely looked like a waiter. His hand came up to his chest, hovered over his heart. His fingers tapped where his heart was, and then he pointed at her.

Immediately, her eyes pricked, the emotion washing through her. She raised her hand to do the same, but he stepped back and disappeared behind the curtain.

“Really, these things are supposed to be perfunctory. Someone is telling their life story up there.” Aunt D was not used to being on her feet for long.

After a few moments, the line started to move again. Only a few more people ahead of them, and then it was their turn.

Miriam held her breath, stepped through the door, and almost laughed.

It was only Lady Worthington.

Lord Worthington wasn’t even in the receiving line.

“Please accept my son’s apologies; he needed to attend to a few matters. He will be joining us all shortly.”

There was no need to feign the smile she gave Lady Worthington. If all went well, she wouldn’t even meet Lord Worthington in this crush. The tight curls of her fingers eased; and for the first time, she opened herself to the fact that she might possibly enjoy herself.

“We are very honored you chose to accept our invitation, Lady Miriam Rothbury. My son roomed with your husband, though he gets rather annoyed with me these days when I mention it. They were friends since childhood, you know.”

Miriam felt her smile get tighter. Rotten scoundrels, the pair of them. “Yes, so I understand.”

“We’d so like to have you and your aunt over for dinner when things settle down.” Lady Worthington leaned forward in a conspiratorial way. “My son is looking for a wife and you may have a few friends.” She laughed along with Aunt D.

Ah, now, that made her feel very old. “I’d be delighted.”