Chapter 3

Chapter 3

London

July, 1869

The eastern sky was growing pink. A day would pass, then another, and finally Poor Lawrence would be laid to rest.

"Can you think of some other answer?" Enid asked.

Virginia turned to face her mother-in-law.

"The law does not see women as people, Virginia, but only as a man's limb. His leg, his foot, or whichever appendage you want."

For a moment, a ghost of a smile appeared on Enid's lips, then vanished.

"Your entire inheritance is gone, Virginia. Everything your father left you."

"Did Lawrence do it on purpose?" she asked. "Did he want us desperate?"

Enid tapped her fingers against her lips as if holding back improvident words. Finally, she sighed deeply. "I don't know. I don't know. I would hope he hadn't."

They regarded each other somberly.

"Search your memory, Virginia. Is there no friend of Lawrence's? Or a person who might have come calling on my girls?"

Macrath. In this room, he seemed even more substantial than Lawrence in his casket.

Had Lawrence any friends? She'd never seen any visitors to the house. The closest to a friend was his attendant, but Paul was paid to be devoted.

As far as her sisters-in-law, Ellice was only sixteen and Eudora didn't seem interested in attracting a suitor.

"You do agree, don't you, Virginia?" her mother-in-law asked now.

"I'm not sure I can do such a thing," she said.

But, oh, to see him again. To smile at him once more.

"May I speak frankly, my dear?"

When had she not?

"Sexual congress needn't last long," Enid said.

Poor Lawrence hadn't been interested in sexual congress. Or perhaps he simply resented being a pawn in his mother's schemes. She had evidently been included in that resentment. Poor Lawrence had retreated to his suite of rooms early on in their marriage, rarely emerging.

"Seduction isn't all that difficult, Virginia. All you need do is suggest your willingness and the male will do the rest."

She had the most absurd wish to giggle. Her mother-in-law was giving her lessons on debauchery.

"However, you need to copulate regularly. You're young and healthy. Nothing should prevent your getting with child."

She felt like a chicken, scolded because it hadn't recently laid an egg.

"Is there no one to whom you could appeal?" Enid asked. "No one at all? Wasn't there someone before you married Lawrence?"

Macrath. Dear God, was she a terrible person for having kept him in her heart all this time?

She turned and faced the window again. Streaks of yellowish light bathed the street in front of the town house, stretching to illuminate the park in the middle of the square. She wanted to throw open the sash and breathe in the cool dawn air. She wanted to be gone from this place, from Poor Lawrence.

"Yes," she said, speaking to the window. "I know of someone."

Macrath.

Was he married? Nearly a year had passed since she'd seen him, and yet she could conjure him up so well he could be standing there, his dark blue eyes intently fixed on her.

What would have happened if her father had allowed her to marry Macrath Sinclair? Would her life be filled with joy, or the insane excitement she always felt when he was near?

Her heart stuttered around Macrath. Her palms became moist. Her emotions were too close to the surface, almost as if she were preparing to shout in joy or weep in despair.

A magnificent man, Macrath Sinclair, one who'd commanded her thoughts even during her marriage.

She'd almost been brave once, because of Macrath.

"He lives in Scotland," she said, feeling her heartbeat escalate as she spoke.

"All the better, then," Enid said. "Far enough away no hint of scandal will touch you."

"No hint of scandal?" she asked, turning. "What kind of a widow would travel in such conditions?"

"One who does so in secrecy," Enid said. "In the dead of night, if need be."

"Could we not appeal to Jeremy's generosity?" she asked.

The Dowager Countess of Barrett sighed audibly. "I have already done so. He is sensitive to our plight, he says, but will not attempt to break the entail. Don't expect any help from that quarter."

Now was the time for her to protest, to say Enid's suggestion was foolish. Try as she might, she couldn't see a brighter future for them, not with Poor Lawrence spending her fortune in such a profligate way.

"Do you have the courage, Virginia?"

No, she didn't. But what other option was there in the face of such unfair laws? A woman had no rights to anything, least of all her own money.

The door suddenly opened and her two sisters-in-law entered. Virginia was engulfed in a flurry of weeping, black silk and arms enfolding her in a comforting embrace.

"Dearest Virginia," Eudora said. "How are you faring?"

Enid's oldest daughter was tall, gliding when she walked. Her demeanor and poise was of a woman twice her age. Every once in a while, however, Eudora smiled, and the expression hinted at a younger and more carefree girl, one capable of mischief.

She wore her hair parted in the middle and swept into rosettes on either side of her head. A matronly style but one suiting her, as did the black she now wore. Even dressed in mourning, one noticed her dark eyes and long lashes, a creamy complexion, and full pink lips.

"Is she Mediterranean?" someone had once asked about Eudora, and the question had reminded Virginia of lithographs she'd seen of Roman women, even to the prominent nose and regal looking brow.

If Eudora had any flaws at all, it was that she loved to shop. A few times each week Virginia accompanied her, walking through the Pantheon, the Burlington Arcade, Davie's warehouse on St. Martin's Lane, or the Soho Bazaar.

They invariably returned empty-handed from each one of their outings, simply because Lawrence refused to give them any pocket money and Virginia's quarterly allowance wasn't that large.

"Oh, sister, was it awful?" Ellice asked.

Ellice was the opposite of her taller older sister. She fidgeted. She squirmed. She could not sit still for more than a few minutes at a time. Her brown eyes were always sparkling with curiosity. "Why do you suppose" was the phrase starting most of her conversations. Her brown hair was always coming loose, and she was forever being lectured by her mother on comportment, manners, what to say and when. Unfortunately, she had, on more than one occasion, offended people by speaking what was on her mind.

If Eudora was Enid's joy, Ellice was her trial.

Virginia had never considered they might be the saving grace of her marriage. Eudora and Ellice had become her sisters in truth.

"I'm fine," she said, answering both of them.

Stepping back, she met Enid's gaze. The three of them and all the servants in the house were dependent on her decision. She honestly didn't know what would happen to them once Jeremy ascended to the title.

"I'll consider it," she said to Enid.

"Consider it quickly, Virginia."

With a few parting words, she left the three of them to sit with Lawrence's coffin. Eudora wept with quiet dignity. Ellice was noisier and more effusive. Enid, like her, was concerned more with survival than grief at the moment.

Slowly, she closed the sliding doors behind her.

"I would be happy to assist you in any way, Countess."

Startled, she turned to find Paul Henderson standing there, watching her.

Paul was an extraordinarily handsome man. With his dark brown eyes and thick brown hair, he garnered a woman's attention. His features were perfect as well, even if his mouth might be considered a bit too large. Of average height, he was more muscular than most men of her acquaintance.

He would need to be, having been Lawrence's attendant. Paul had bathed him, cared for him, acted as valet and secretary. In the latter role, he'd summoned the solicitor whenever Lawrence wanted to spend more money. Paul had gone to Enid and told her what Lawrence was doing. Because of his warning, they had some inkling of their dismal future. Otherwise, they wouldn't have known until after Lawrence's death.

Paul had been in Lawrence's employ for five years and was considered almost a member of the family. Or as much as the Earl of Barrett would consider anyone beneath him to be part of his inner circle. Poor Lawrence was, regrettably, a snob, which was probably why he'd looked down his patrician nose at her. Her only pedigree had been a fortune, and she didn't even have that now.

Paul's eyes sparkled at her, and held what she perceived as a glint of humor, hardly proper for this moment. She moved aside so he could enter the parlor. Instead, he stood there studying her.

He made her uncomfortable and always had, as if he saw through the pretense of her marriage. But, then, he would know better than most, wouldn't he, caring for Lawrence as he had?

He knew how many times she'd visited her husband, how many occasions Lawrence agreed to see her, and how long each of those visits lasted.

Did Lawrence complain about her after she left? She wouldn't have been surprised. Paul was a confidant, and since she'd never seen anyone visit Lawrence, probably his only friend.

She took a step back.

Something about Paul bothered her. She didn't like the look in his eyes when he studied her, or the small smile playing around his mouth.

With Lawrence dead, was there any reason he should still be employed? All their expenses must be examined closely from this moment forward.

"I would do anything to assist you. Anything at all," he said. His smile vanished, but he didn't look away. "Please consider my offer."

Dear God, how much had he heard? She wouldn't put it past Paul to listen at doors. Yet how could she blame him for doing so, since it was how he'd gathered the information about what Lawrence had done?

She'd kept her concerns to herself. If she'd confessed to Enid that Paul made her uncomfortable, her mother-in-law would have simply looked at her with her nostrils flaring and a pinched mouth—an expression stating, without words, that she was being American and foolish.

"Thank you," she said, moving away from Paul.

He followed her, coming entirely too close. She stepped back but he only smiled, tracking her until her back hit the wall.

Leaning close, he spoke softly. "Are you afraid of me, Virginia?"

"Of course not," she said, pushing her fear down. She wouldn't let him see how panicked she was.

But when he reached out and trailed a finger down her cheek, she shivered. His eyes narrowed but he didn't move away.

"I wouldn't hurt you, Virginia. You'd enjoy it."

Grabbing a tendril of her hair, he wound it around his finger, pulling her closer.

She froze, keeping as still as she could even when he breathed against her temple. Closing her eyes, she prayed he'd move away.

Instead, he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"I would promise you would feel nothing but pleasure in my arms, Virginia. You might come to yearn for it."

She slid to the left, ducking below his arm, scurrying down the hall. Turning, she looked back to find him studying her intently, almost like she was a mouse in truth and he a hungry cat.

In that instant, she made up her mind to travel to Scotland. Macrath would be at the end of the journey, and she'd somehow find the courage to seduce him.