‘I sincerely hope he rots in hell for it!’ The senseless, brutal damage of those three hideous years still lingered and likely always would.
Abigail wiped a fat tear away, nodding. ‘I cannot say that I blame you. In your shoes I would hate him too, though there was no love lost between him and me either...by the end.’
Behind them, the five-minute call rang out, reminding everyone to return to their seats and he sensed Hope was watching before he saw that she was hanging back waiting for him and wished he were callous enough to abandon his sister-in-law to her tears. Instead, while she wept and blew her nose, he reluctantly shook his head, mouthing the words ‘two minutes’ to his friend and praying this wouldn’t take that long. Hope smiled in sympathy and followed the crowd and he wished with all his heart he could have gone with her.
Lord, she looked lovely tonight.
Green was certainly her colour and the conservative drape of her plain silk gown did splendid things for her figure, turning the demure garment into a temptress’s gown which set off her fiery hair to perfection and unintentionally rendering her the most striking woman in the room. Luke would have complimented her when he first saw her this evening, because she fair stole his breath away with her unique beauty but knew she wouldn’t appreciate it. Hope didn’t trust flattery, and as he had repeatedly watched gentleman after gentleman turn to stare covetously tonight, he understood why.
Most of those gentlemen only saw the sinful face and figure, but only the truly privileged ever got to peek at the complex and alluring woman who inhabited it. Luke was obviously beguiled by her fine figure, to be frank what hot-blooded male wouldn’t be? But he was thoroughly seduced by her mind more. She was sharp. She was smart, she was tough and she made him smile. Especially when they were alone on the balcony and they dissected their day.
‘I am so alone, Lucius. Husbandless. Childless... Rudderless.’ He had to stifle the groan which threatened to escape, reminding himself that, like it or not, Abigail was still his responsibility. ‘I have spent the last decade being every inch the Marchioness of Thundersley, trying to please him. I ran his household. Planned meticulous meals which he frequently missed. Organised all the endless parties and dinners at his behest purely so that Cassius could impress his associates. Answered all his correspondence. Dealt with all the unsavoury issues he created as best I could. Kept his secrets. Protected his reputation. And now I do not even have that purpose to keep me sane.’
She stared down at the ruined handkerchief twisted in her fingers. ‘I am mortified by the awful things I did last week. But I wasn’t quite myself that day and the world seemed...a very dark place indeed...’ The raw nerve vibrated as she plucked it again. ‘And look at me now. Blubbering in a theatre. Sometimes, I think I would make a ripe candidate for the lunatic asylum.’ He had always loathed both of those words—lunatic and asylum—so filled with condemnation and hopelessness. ‘Because my rash behaviour lately is so out of character and irrational that it scares me, especially as now I have managed to drive you away with it too.’
‘Things will get better.’
She risked peeking up at him again and he was sure he saw genuine fear in her eyes, even though his head cautioned it was all a little too convenient.
‘Will they?’
He knew better than most how change could play with the mind. His mother’s illness sometimes swung wildly, negatively and irrationally at the smallest deviation from her routine and until he had understood that, responding with forbearance rather than frustration, she had made slow progress—or none. Abigail had no one in that soulless mausoleum to show her the same care, except the servants now that he had abandoned her.
‘Time heals all wounds Abigail.’ Not strictly true as it was time, combined with patience, compassion and a great deal of money which had eventually helped his mother. She would likely never fully heal. He knew that now and accepted it. The damage done to her by first his neglectful father and then after his vengeful brother had broken her spirit had been too great.
‘Will you help me?’
More storm clouds gathered ominously around his head. ‘As much as I am able.’
‘Thank you. You have no idea how much that means. You are the only family I have left here in London. That is if I still have a place here in London...’ She forced a smile and something about her wide-eyed and innocent expression instantly seemed fake. ‘Do I still have my beloved home which Cassius never thought to leave me?’
In his haste to escape her that fateful night, Luke had completely forgotten about his offer. While he was glad to leave Berkeley Square and all its bad memories behind, that she had reminded him he had gifted it, so soon after apparently bearing her tortured soul to him, reminded him that leopards rarely changed their spots and that his gut was rarely wrong. ‘It is still yours.’
‘Oh, thank goodness.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘I was dreading you would have me shipped back to my father in Wiltshire a hundred miles away from everything I hold dear, like your brother did your poor mother.’
‘I am not Cassius. That house is yours for as long as you choose to live in it, Abigail.’
‘I should like it if you weren’t a stranger to it...Brother.’
His canny gut clenched in warning some more, while his mind whirred. She was desperately lonely and lost. He knew how that felt and, whether he liked it or not, theywerefamily and she was still his responsibility.
Dear god, he hoped that wouldn’t be for ever.
‘I won’t be.’
She smiled, her bottom lip still dangerously quivering a little. ‘Then how about dinner tomorrow? Nothing formal. Just a nice, cosyfamilysupper? It would give me something to look forward to...’
Chapter Ten
The Theatre Royal saw Mrs Roberta Brookes
accept, not one, but five standing ovations for her final performance inCosì fan Tuttelast night. However, while nobody doubts hervirtuosaperformance was a triumph, it was her daughter Miss Charity Brookes who stole the show after she hastily stepped into the role of Despina at the last moment when the original actress was indisposed. The audience sat transfixed at the sheer beauty of her voice, many declaring she sang like an angel—which, regular readers of this column will doubtless appreciate, is gloriously ironic, considering her less than angelic reputation...
Whispers from Behind the Fan
June 1814
Twenty-One Bedford Place was packed to the rafters and she had lost sight of Luke in the melee over an hour ago. Obviously, with Charity watching the pair of them like a hawk for any signs of partiality, and because Hope was supremely conscious of the fact that she was rather partial to him despite her legendary pessimism regarding men, she had made no effort to seek him out even though she wanted to.
