It was still dark outside when Regan returned to her room. The maid had not been in yet to clear the fireplace, to empty the pot under the bed, and so she breathed a sigh of relief as she leaned back against the door.
She had done the best she could to dress herself after slipping out of Thomas's bed. While he slumbered beneath the covers, one bare muscular leg sticking out from under the edge of the sheet, she grappled with her shift and her corset, finally giving up on the latter and simply tucking it beneath her arm once she managed to fit herself back into her gown. Her hair was hopeless, and she could only pray she wouldn't stumble upon anyone on her journey back to the other side of the house.
In her own room, she undressed again, tossing her clothes onto a chair and slipping into a nightgown and robe her maid had laid out for her hours before. Before she climbed into her own bed, she opened the door between her own room and Katharine's.
The fire had burned out and none of the candles or lamps were still lit. She stepped far enough into the room until she could see her daughter curled up in her bed, dark hair spread out on the pillow like an inky halo. Regan whispered a short prayer, the same she had taught the children when they were young, and retreated back into her bedroom.
Her own bed felt terribly cold after the hours spent with Thomas. She shivered as she scooted down beneath the covers, keeping her robe on for the additional warmth. She would not be able to sleep, she told herself. There was an ache between her legs, along the backs of her thighs. And when she closed her eyes, there he was. His touch. His voice. The slide of tongue, his fingers, of him inside of her.
She shivered again and pulled the blanket up to her chin. No, no. How could she rest when so much excitement, so many wonderful sensations still rippled through her? Onto her side, she focused on the window, on the pale grey light that had just begun to illuminate the eastern horizon. No, she would not be able to sleep. But she would just close her eyes for a moment, and then...
A light knock on the door, and Regan groaned at the sound. "Hmmph?" was all she could manage before the door opened quietly and her maid stepped into the room.
"Are you awake now, my lady?"
Regan blinked and brushed a thick lock of hair out of her eyes. The light from the windows was considerably brighter than it had been only a few minutes ago. She blinked again and pushed herself up to a sitting position in the bed. "What time is it?"
"Nearly eleven, my lady. I came to wake you earlier, but nothing could stir you. Miss Katharine said I should leave you to your rest and check on you later in the morning."
"Eleven o'clock?" Regan looked towards the carriage clock on the mantle, but her eyes were too bleary with sleep to make out the position of the hands. "It cannot be. I never oversleep."
Molly busied herself at the wardrobe, sorting through clothes while Regan untangled herself from the bedcovers and slid her feet down to the floor. "Will you have breakfast in your room or downstairs? They are still serving the other guests who tend to rise later in the day."
"Oh." Her hair seemed insistent on clinging around her neck and catching in her eyelashes. "Downstairs is fine. Where is Katharine?"
"With Lady Polmerol in the garden, if I am not mistaken." Three gowns found their way out of the wardrobe. Molly held them up for inspection, but to Regan's fogged mind, they all looked the same.
"The one on the right," she said, and sat down again on the edge of the bed. She winced slightly at the ache between her legs, still lingering despite her several hours of rest. Even through her tiredness, astonishment overwhelmed her as the memories of the previous night came flooding back.
Had she really gone to Thomas's room in the middle of the night, like some daring, wanton thing? A part of her still could not believe it, as if it were merely a dream, a fantasy, and she would dress and take herself downstairs and still be the same quiet widow she had been for so many years.
She bathed and dressed and sat in front of the mirror while Molly took pains to brush the myriad tangles from her hair. It crossed Regan's mind that her maid might suspect something, but she trusted the woman to never breathe a word of it to anyone, nor to broach the subject with her mistress unless Regan were to mention it first.
"Thank you, Molly." There. She told herself she looked just the same as ever. No one would be able to survey her appearance and suspect she was having an affair with a younger man. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she adjusted the fine netting of her fichu. But she would have to face Thomas again, in the presence of the guests. And without a blush rising to her cheeks, without a look, a whispered word, a stolen touch that could be seen and turned into fodder for gossip by those around them.
Regan walked downstairs with her head held high, her breathing even, all while her heart danced a jig inside her chest. She doubted Thomas would be in the breakfast room, unless he had slept in as well. But she searched the room for him regardless, though it was clear from the first step she took into the room that he was not there.
The food was still warm, and so she fetched a plate and filled it with eggs and ham and mushrooms. She did not realize how hungry she was until the aromas from the various dishes reached her. If she had been at home with her children, she would have tossed etiquette out the nearest window and eaten as much as her ravenous appetite demanded. But in front of the handful of guests scattered about the room, she took care to eat slowly, to push her food about her plate and make it seem as if she would not possibly be able to consume it all.
No one sought to relieve her of her solitary place near the end of the table, for which she was silently grateful. Once she was finished, she dabbed at her mouth with her napkin and went upstairs to pick out a bonnet before walking out to the garden to find Katharine and Lady Polmerol.
It was another beautiful day, the storm from the previous evening having succeeded in clearing out all of the stultifying humidity. White clouds like puffs of cotton dotted the remarkable blue of the sky. A light breeze shifted the ribbon of her straw bonnet, and she looked around for any sign of her daughter or Lady Polmerol.
And Thomas, she admitted to herself.
Perhaps he had yet to come down from his room. Or perhaps he was out riding. She gave her head a small shake. Here she was, giving too much concern to the whereabouts of a young man as if she were still a young woman and it was her first infatuation. Enough of that.
Katharine. She would find Katharine and work through the rest of her day from there.
The paths through the rose garden were made of fine white gravel that crunched beneath the soles of her shoes. She lowered her head, allowing the sun to warm the back of her neck, to ignite a prickle of heat and perspiration between her shoulder blades. When she raised her gaze again, it was to see a pair of well-polished boots walking towards her.
"Lady Griffith." Lord Hays greeted her with a bow.
She nodded her head in return, her mouth attempting to shape into a polite smile that never quite materialized. "My lord."
Without a word, she continued walking. Instead of allowing their greeting to be a passing thing, Lord Hays turned around and fell into step beside her. Regan glanced away towards the edge of the garden, to the sloping lawn beyond, and imagined herself running away from him.
"I looked for you at breakfast," Lord Hays began, drawing Regan's attention back to him. "Your daughter said you were still resting. I confess I was worried you had taken ill, perhaps indulged in too much drink or rich food from Lady Polmerol's table, but I am glad to see you in such good looks this morning." He took out a watch from the pocket of his waistcoat, flipped it open and checked the time. "Ah, afternoon, I should amend."
Regan looked towards the other side of the garden, where she thought she saw the top of Katharine's bonnet among a burst of white roses. "My life in Kent is a more subdued existence," she said, while attempting to quicken her pace. "I keep my children's hours when I am at home."
"This must be quite the departure for you then. Late evenings spent with diverse company," he trailed off, his grey gaze glancing at her sideways.
She cleared her throat and looked ahead again. Did he know of her meetings with Thomas? Did he suspect? At the end of it all, did she really care?
"My daughter and I will be home again soon enough, and able to return to our normal way of things."
"Of course. Though this might be an advantageous experience for you, to return to a way of life you have not known for some time. To mingle in society again, perhaps allow yourself to entertain the thought of looking for suitors."
She swallowed, but it caught in her throat. With the back of her hand to her mouth, she coughed lightly. "I am not certain I will ever be prepared for that." Her words were low, more for herself than the man who insisted on walking beside her.
"But a woman on her own? With children? With a son in need of a father's guidance?"
It did not matter that she had asked those same questions to herself countless times. Lord Hays did not know her or her children. It was not his concern if she decided to set herself up in a convent on the other side of the world for the rest of her days.
"Whether or not I ever feel the inclination to marry again, I doubt it is something I will discuss while strolling among the roses." ... with you, she bit off the words before they could be spoken.
"And Mr. Cranmer?"
She stopped mid-stride. "I beg your pardon?"
Lord Hays looked around, as if to ascertain how many other people milled about the garden with them. "That man seems to have taken a marked interest in you, my lady. Enough that it has brought attention to his behavior towards you." He looked down at her from beneath the brim of his hat, grey eyes shining like an affront to the beautiful blue of the sky above. "I would not see you hurt, my lady."
"Hurt?" Was her voice higher than normal? Or was that simply her imagination? "Whatever it is you have to say-"
"May I speak freely?"
She blew out a breath in frustration at having been interrupted. "I believed you already were."
Birds chirped overhead. All around them, a soft buzz of conversation waxed and waned. And above them, the edge of a cloud passed over the sun, lending a sudden chill to the air that cooled the sweat on Regan's skin.
"You may have noticed some... tension between Mr. Cranmer and myself."
Regan nodded. "I did, yes."
His mouth worked before speaking again. "I find I must be blunt. Mr. Cranmer is no gentleman. I know for a fact he is... Well, he is a scoundrel of the worst kind."
She searched his face. Where before there had been a haughtiness, a pomposity carried in the lines of his face, the set of his jaw, now it was swept away and replaced with a troubled expression.
"I have not said anything thus far because I had no wish to create a scandal. I am Lady Polmerol's guest and it would be terribly remiss of me to speak up against someone who is practically a member of her household, her family." Lord Hays cleared his throat and passed a hand across his brow. "However, when I noticed the particular attention Mr. Cranmer paid to you, and that you did not appear to find his overtures unwelcome... Forgive me, my lady. But these last few days have been rather a trial for me, sleeping and dining under the same roof as that man. If I have not been as congenial as I would like..."
Was there sincerity in his voice? Regan wished for a way to hear his words over and again, to see if she could find the truth in them or immediately dismiss them as a lie. "What sins do you believe Mr. Cranmer guilty of committing? They must be grievous indeed for you feel the need to issue a warning to me."
He gestured towards a nearby bench, but she shook her head.
"I would rather continue our walk," she said, and with those words set her feet into motion again. There was too much agitation in her limbs to consider sitting still for more than a few seconds.
Lord Hays clasped his hands behind his back, while his gaze narrowed as he searched the sky above him. He did not speak for several moments, and Regan wondered if he would suddenly rescind his accusations against Thomas before they had even been said.
"I have a ward," he began, his steps slowing. "The daughter of a very close friend of mine. Several years ago, her mother died. Soon after, her father took ill and followed his wife from this world. Without any close relatives in England at the time, she was left in my care."
"How old was she at the time?"
"Only twelve, the poor thing." He shook his head, his mouth shaped into a thin, grim line. "I confess, I did not have a heavy hand in her upbringing for the first few years she was placed in my care. I often had business in London, and so she stayed in Hertfordshire with my housekeeper, a governess, and all the servants there. Perhaps if I had... if I had been a greater presence in her life..."
Regan pulled at the delicate lace edging the sleeve of her gown. She dreaded the turn Lord Hays' tale was about to take. Her teeth gritted, she inhaled slowly through her nose and breathed out again, waiting for him to continue.
"When she was fifteen years old, it was discovered that she was with child. I cancelled all of my plans in London and returned to Hertfordshire as soon as possible. At first, she would not speak the name of the father, for fear - I suspect - that I would do something rash like challenge the man to a duel." A hint of a smile touched the corners of his mouth. "Young ladies, always living in fear of the most dramatic of outcomes."
She did not share his grin. They had nearly arrived at the other side of the garden, where Lady Polmerol and Katharine were still seated. Her daughter caught her eye, a questioning look on her face at her mother's own expression. A slight shake of her head, and Regan deftly turned Lord Hays onto another path of the garden, one that led them away from the two ladies conversing on the bench.
"It was my housekeeper who informed me of one particular man's presence in the neighborhood in those months before my ward found herself with child. And when I confronted her with this information, well... she confessed everything."
Lord Hays stopped walking. He turned slightly away from her, as if he could not face her. Regan did not know if it was guilt or something else he wished to hide from her at that moment.
"You can scarce imagine my discomposure when I arrived here and found that very scoundrel to be here as one of the guests, and our hostess's cousin. Should I have left immediately after I arrived?" His lips moved, and Regan thought she heard a small swear under his breath. "I could not decide which were the greater hallmarks of a coward: to remain here and pretend as if I did not know of his behavior, or to run away, to allow his sins to go unchallenged by my absence."
Just say his name, she thought. Say his name...
"Mr. Cranmer is a second son," Lord Hays went on, seemingly unaware of the tension in her shoulders, in the set of her jaw as she ground her teeth down to dust. "Too often, that is the way of younger sons, I've found. Without the responsibilities of an inheritance to look after, with nothing to occupy them... well, they find something with which to occupy themselves, to the detriment of many."
Regan did not know if she breathed. The sun on the back of her neck scorched her skin, and the hair tucked away beneath her bonnet itched with perspiration. It could not be true. Not Thomas. She had always prided herself on being a fine judge of character. But had she been away from society for so long that Thomas's flattery, his interest in her had clouded her judgement?
She looked sideways at Lord Hays. Or was it more likely to be that this man was lying to her? But if so, what was the motive? Could it be merely jealousy? Had Lord Hays noticed the interest between Thomas and herself and decided to destroy Thomas's character?
And why? So that she would then turn her attention to Lord Hays instead?
"What of your ward?" Regan asked, surprised at how calm her voice sounded, while her very bones seemed ready to vibrate out from beneath her skin.
"Oh, Jenny," he said on a sigh, naming the girl for the first time. "She wrote to Mr. Cranmer, informing him of her condition, asking him to respect her honor and to fix the mess he had made of her life. But she never received an answer."
"Perhaps..." Regan licked her lips. Her mouth was suddenly parched. "Perhaps the letter did not reach him. Perhaps he does not even know-"
"Oh, no. He cannot use ignorance as an excuse. Jenny saw him again, once, when he made a return to Hertfordshire. She told him of... what he had done to her." Lord Hays looked at her, his eyes sad, yet glittering with anger. "He abandoned her. None of us saw him again."
"Until now?" Regan chanced.
"Until now," he echoed. "But I have not yet told you the worst of it."
Of course there was more. Regan would have been shocked if what she'd been told so far had been the end of it.
"I have not seen Jenny for three years, not since she realized - well, when we both realized that her... seducer-" he spat out the word as if it were poison. "-was determined to leave her to her fate. She ran away. For what reason, I cannot guess. Fear of society's censure?" He blinked rapidly. Were those tears in his eyes? Or was it simply a trick of the sunlight reflecting off a water feature in the center of the garden? "But she is gone. I do not even know if she still lives, or the child for that matter. In the middle of the night, she left my house. Packed a small bag with a few of her belongings and..." A wave of his hand, the escape of a panicked young woman drawn in the air with that flick of his fingers.
"But..." Regan began, then snapped her mouth closed. She could not believe this of Thomas. She would not.
And then a tiny voice chirped to life in the back of her mind, telling her that perhaps... perhaps she had allowed lust to blind her.
She squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the top of her nose with her fingers. "Have you spoken to Mr. Cranmer? Asked him if he has any knowledge of Jenny's whereabouts?"
But already, Lord Hays was shaking his head. "I sent a letter to him by way of his brother, hoping that it would make it into his hands at some point. A few months later, I received a reply. One line, scrawled across a battered slip of foolscap. 'Do not bother me with such nonsense again.'"
"And that is all?" Regan turned to face him. They were in the very middle of the garden, beside a small fountain that sent a bright spray of water into the air. She told herself she needed the sound to calm her nerves. "Your ward missing, and Mr. Cranmer refusing to be of any aid?"
Lord Hays nodded. "That is where we are, yes. Not a very satisfying conclusion, I am afraid."
No, no. It could not be true. She turned her head, scanning the rest of the garden, the lawn beyond its boundaries for any sign of Thomas. She would find him, and she would speak to him, and he would clear away all of these tales spewed by Lord Hays. Thomas would deny everything, provide her with a proper explanation, and...
"Th-Thank you," she faltered, and cleared her throat. "My lord. For your warning about Mr. Cranmer. I will certainly take everything you have said into account."
"That is more than I could have hoped for, my lady."
He bowed. She curtsied. The gravel crunched beneath her heels as she turned away from him and strode across the garden, towards where Katharine still sat with Lady Polmerol.
"Oh, my! You do look flushed!" Lady Polmerol waved her over and shifted on the bench until there was room for Regan to take a seat, but she declined the offer. "Something to drink then? I'll send for some lemonade."
"No, I am well. A little warm, that is all." She fanned herself with her hand, her gaze still darting this way and that in search of Thomas. But she could not go on like this, waiting to happen upon him and barrage him with questions - one of them being whether or not he had sired a child upon a fifteen year old girl. "Katharine, would you care to join me for a walk?" She needed to be away from the house for a bit, to calm down and gather her thoughts. "There is a little path that leads into the woods. It would give us some welcome shade."
"Of course, that would be lovely!" Katharine stood and brushed a few wrinkles out of the front of her skirt. "Lady Polmerol, would you care to join us?"
Lady Polmerol waved away the offer. "I thank you for the invitation, but I'm afraid I will have to decline. I was awakened much too early this morning when my maid informed me that Thomas was to depart."
Regan inhaled sharply. "Mr. Cranmer?"
"It was such a to-do this morning! The sky was not even light yet, and there he was, bustling with bags and having a carriage brought around. The poor man had not even taken the time to shave!" Lady Polmerol rolled her eyes heavenwards, as if asking for a blessing on her cousin and his scandalously bristled jawline. "But he would not wait. Simply said there had been a message delivered early this morning and he must take care of it."
"I hope nothing is the matter." Katharine glanced at her mother, but returned her attention to Lady Polmerol. "Did he know how long this mysterious business of his would keep him away?"
"He did not say. I may not see him again for several months, or he might return in a day or two. Thomas is..." She tilted her head to one side, her mouth pursing as she appeared to think over her next few words. "Well, you should not set your clock by him. That much is certain. I do enjoy when he comes to visit, but there is still that air of irresponsibility about him. Always short on funds, no matter how much his brother increases his allowance. Always running about, to London, to Brighton, to Hertfordshire..."
Regan blinked. Hertfordshire. Why would she say Hertfordshire, of all places?
Lady Polmerol finished her farewells and made her way back to the house. Katharine stood and slipped her arm through her mother's. Regan felt her daughter's eyes on her, but she looked towards the lawn instead, her gaze fixing on a narrow path that led to a folly situated just beneath the cover of a few trees.
"Oh, Mama." Katharine sighed once they were well out of earshot of anyone still milling around the house. "Will you not tell me what is troubling you?"
Regan blinked the fog from her eyes and turned to look at her daughter. "Troubling me? I don't... I mean-"
"I watched you while you spoke with Lord Hays. I do apologize," her daughter said, fingers tightening on her arm, lending additional sincerity to her words. "It was wrong of me, I know, to infringe on your privacy. But what he had to tell you, whatever it was... you did not seem to react well to it."
Was Regan so much of an open book, that anyone could look at her and discern the secrets of her mind? Or was it simply that Katharine knew her better than so many others? "No," she confessed at length. "I did not care for what he had to tell me."
"And you cannot say more than that?"
Regan licked her lips, words that wanted to be spoken hovering above the tip of her tongue.
"But it had to do with Mr. Cranmer."
Again, Regan made no reply. But she noticed the lack of question in her daughter's tone. "Well, he has already gone away, so I do not see how it matters what may or may not be said about him." She patted Katharine's hand. A perfunctory movement, one made to hide the slight tremor in her own fingers. "Come along now. Let us walk. I feel an overwhelming urge to make long, unladylike strides across the lawn. Then you can tell me more about Mr. Winthrop. I fear I am in great need of distraction at the moment."
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Chapter Sixteen will be posted on Friday, August 30th!
As always, thank you to all the readers who take the time to read, comment, favorite, and follow. You don't have to, but you do.
Quenby