The Housemaid’s Scandalous Secret

Araminta looked at her brother and laughed. He really did look put out by her questioning. ‘Forgive my curiosity. You know what I’m like. Now are you ready, Ross, or is there something further you wish to say to Miss Napier before we leave?’

Ross turned his back on his sister to speak to Lisette, giving her directions to his aunt’s house in Bloomsbury. Meeting her gaze he realised that when he had met her before and looked into her eyes, he had thought them strange. Now he could not understand how he had ever thought that. He now saw those astonishing eyes as the perfect expression of her unique self. Now she seemed absolutely perfect.

His voice was laced with concern when he said, ‘Will you be all right? Would you like me to wait with you until Miss Arbuthnot appears?’

‘That will not be necessary. I see Miss Arbuthnot is in the process of purchasing some ribbons. You have been most generous, Colonel, and to be sure I am grateful that you saw fit to speak of me to your sister. If she considers me suitable for the post, then I shall appreciate the shelter, protection and stability of the position and to be valued for the qualities I know I possess.’

For a moment Ross didn’t move—he studied her with speculative blue eyes, pleasuring himself with the sight of her. ‘Which I am certain you have in abundance. I’m happy to have been of help.’ He reached out and took her right hand in his firm grip. ‘I’m so glad to have met you again, Miss Napier,’ he said, shaking her hand.

With her heart racing, Lisette sucked in a breath. For one definable instant she felt trapped. ‘Yes,’ she said, feeling utterly foolish. She was so aware of the touch of him, his skin against hers, the feel of her slim hand held in his broad grasp, and as she gazed into those penetrating blue eyes, she suddenly felt herself drawn to him as if by some overwhelming magnetic force.

She opened her mouth to tell him they had met before and to thank him for saving her life, then closed it again. As much as she wanted to she could not. A ribbon and lace shop was hardly the place for such an intimate revelation. And besides, to do so would bring about a change to their relationship. He would look upon her differently—he might regret the passion they had shared, feel ashamed, even, and decide against hiring her as his sister’s maid. She desperately needed the security of this employment and would do nothing to jeopardise that. In any case, it seemed he did not recognise her as the girl he had rescued, and in the grey of London colourful, vibrant India seemed half a lifetime away.

‘I shall look forward to seeing you if not in London, then in Derbyshire.’

Lisette could find no words to say, and merely bobbed a little curtsey and picked up her basket.

‘Good day, Miss Napier.’

Leaving the shop, Ross’s lips curved in a satisfied smile. He’d sensed the awareness that had flared at his touch, the quiver of consciousness she hadn’t been able to hide. Known among his contemporaries to be single-minded in pursuit of what he wanted, he was supremely confident that in no time at all he would succeed in tempting the delectable Lisette Napier into his bed.

As Ross approached the modest lodging house in Cheapside, the only thing that occupied his mind was that even after the horrors of war were over, the Montague family was in trouble. Ross feared that the arrival of this woman, Alicia, and her child into their midst, a woman who apparently called herself the Marchioness of Hatherton, had the power to shake the foundations of Castonbury Park to the core.

On seeing her, his first impression was that she did not remotely resemble the conventional image of a noblewoman, not even a lady of fashion. Her hair was fair and neatly arranged, her gown simple and unadorned, and over her arm she carried the freshly laundered clothes of an infant. But not even her plain clothing or the fact that she had probably laundered the clothes herself could make this woman look common. Petite and slender, she held herself with a dignity, a calm intelligence and a self-assurance he had not expected. Her hair framed a face of striking beauty; her skin was creamy and glowing with health. Her eyes were light blue, with long curling lashes.

‘I owe you an apology for turning up like this,’ Ross said, having thought that by not giving notice of his visit he would put her at a disadvantage. She seemed surprised and a little agitated by his sudden arrival and her eyes darkened with anxiety, but her generous mouth curved in a smile of welcome.

‘Not at all, Colonel Montague. You are most welcome. I thank you for coming to see me. I wrote to the duke informing him of the situation, explaining to him fully, in great detail, everything that happened before Jamie was killed.’

‘My uncle had already been notified of my cousin’s disappearance by the British authorities.’

‘So I understand. I wrote telling the duke of Crispin, our son, who is the duke’s heir now Jamie is dead. I made no claim to anything for myself in my letter, only that Jamie’s son is taken care of.’

Which showed great delicacy on her part, Ross thought with cynicism. But could the family reconcile themselves to the fact that the Jamie they knew, admired and loved would marry without their blessing?

‘I—I expected someone to contact me,’ Alicia went on hesitantly, ‘but … I did not know when or who it would be. Would you like some refreshment—tea, perhaps, or coffee?’

‘No, thank you. I do not wish to put you to any trouble.’

Moving towards the fire she sat rather nervously on the edge of a chair and motioned Ross to the chair opposite. He did so, trying to read her.

‘Is there anything more I can tell you?’ she asked, trying to ease the tension in her voice.

‘What was your reason for being in Spain?’

‘I was employed as companion to a lady whose husband was out there. Sadly he was killed in action and she returned to England. Having already met Jamie by that time I remained behind and we were married. If—if you’re wondering about my suitability, I was born into a respectable family. I was an only child—my mother died when I was quite young. My father was a clergyman in the village of Shafton in Wiltshire. Unfortunately when he died I was quite impoverished and had no choice other than to seek employment, which was how I came to be a lady’s companion.’

For the next few minutes, with tactful consideration, Ross tried to test her on little things he recalled about Jamie—his appearance, things about his past he might have told her. His questioning seemed to unsettle her and he noticed how she clasped her hands in her lap to keep them from trembling.

‘You—you must forgive me, Colonel Montague, if I appear a trifle vague,’ she said. ‘You must understand that Jamie and I were not together very long. I confess that most of his background is still unknown to me. I know he has three brothers—Giles, Harry and Edward—and that they are all military men.’

‘Forgive me. My questions were impertinent.’

She seemed to relax. ‘It all happened so quickly. Jamie had no time to write to his family to inform them of our marriage. Sadly he never saw his son.’ She lifted her head and looked at her visitor, her gaze long and searching. This time there were tears in her eyes, and it seemed to Ross he read in them a profound sadness, tinged with reserve and pride.

She rose then and crossed over to a bureau, extracting some papers from a drawer. ‘Forgive me. I am not entirely myself these days. Emotion lies too near the surface. I expect you would like to see these.’ She handed the papers to Ross. ‘You will see that one is a letter from an army chaplain confirming our marriage.’

‘And the chaplain? Where is he now?’

‘He was killed during the battle at Toulouse.’

So, Ross thought as he scanned the document, thinking it looked authentic enough, the marriage could not be confirmed or denied in person. How plausible it all sounded. But was she telling him the truth?

The other document was a birth certificate.

‘Your son has been baptised, I see.’

‘Yes, here in London.’

The birth certificate only reflected what the chaplain had been told.

‘I … also have Jamie’s ring.’

Ross took it from her. It was old, gold and engraved with the crest of the Marquis of Hatherton, one of Jamie’s titles, proof that it was his.

‘May I ask how you come to have it in your possession?’ he enquired, handing it back to her. ‘Jamie’s body has not been found and I find it difficult to imagine he would have removed it from his finger. It holds great significance and meant a good deal to him. He would not have left it lying around.’

‘You are quite right to question me about it—and to be suspicious about how I come to have it,’ she said, seemingly not in the least offended by what his words implied, but the worried look Ross had seen in her eyes earlier was still there and he suspected she would be relieved when his visit was over. ‘But when Jamie and I married he was unable to obtain a wedding band so he gave me this until the time when he could give me a proper ring.’ Looking down at it a wistful smile touched her lips. ‘It was far too big for my finger,’ she said softly, ‘but he insisted that I should take it.’

‘You will understand,’ Ross said, ‘that your letter informing my uncle of your marriage to Jamie came as a shock to him—as it did to the whole family.’

‘I can understand that,’ she replied, her voice quite calm, without surprise, as if she read his thoughts correctly. ‘If they think I wrote the letter to stake my claim, they are mistaken. Jamie’s death was a great shock to me also. Before I wrote to the duke I had already come to the conclusion that you would all be perfectly right to dislike me, and to consider me either a usurper or an imposter.’ Taking the documents from him she placed them back in the bureau. ‘I assure you I am neither of those things, Colonel Montague.’ Her eyes held her visitor’s for an instant before looking away.

Ross wished he could say making pre-conclusions were stupid, but found that he could not. Yet there was no shadow in her eye, no tone in her voice, that gave him reason to believe she was anything other than what she claimed to be. Jamie’s wife.

‘Jamie did tell me something of his home and his family. I am looking forward to meeting them.’

‘Yes, the Montagues are a fine family.’

She bent her head, and Ross had a shrewd suspicion it was to hide a smile. ‘I am sure they are, Colonel. Do you think I could pay them a courtesy visit? Would that be appropriate?’

For the first time since entering the house, Ross smiled. ‘I am sure that could be arranged.’ He got up to take his leave. ‘I shall inform my cousins of our meeting. I am sure Giles will be contacting you.’

Ross had much to think about when he left the house. His mind was split in two conflicting directions. One direction made him wonder how much it had cost her to write to his uncle, the Duke of Rothermere—to make the swing from pride to humility.

For the first time since his cousin had gone missing, he found himself blaming Jamie for Alicia’s situation. If she was indeed his wife, then considering the kind of work he was doing, surely he could have taken some thought for the future. In war sudden death could come at any time to anyone. He must have known that by making no provision, he left his wife to his family’s mercy, to their charity. A letter home to his father would have spared all this.

The other direction reminded Ross that as a born sceptic, he wasn’t entirely convinced about the validity of Alicia’s claim. There were too many questions left to be answered for his comfort. It had been obvious from her manner and speech that her background was respectable, but was she clever enough and ambitious enough to raise herself from a lady’s companion to a marchioness and ultimately a duchess? Or was she as she seemed to be—not ambitious, and innocent of any deviousness?