The Mistress of Hanover Square. Anne Herries

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СКАЧАТЬ from side to side as he sat in the deep wing chair in the library at Pendleton. He was dreaming…a dream he had had too many times before. ‘No, I say! Stop…the blood…the blood…’ He screamed out and woke to find himself in a room where the fire had gone cold and the candles burned out.

      Unable to sleep, he had dressed and come down to read for a while and fallen into a fitful sleep. He hoped that his nightmare had woken no one. Having gone for some months without one, he had thought they were finished, but something had brought it all back to him.

      Gerard rose from the chair and walked over to the window, gazing out as the light strengthened. It was dawn and another night had gone.

      The library was an impressive, long room with glassfronted bookcases on three walls, a magnificent desk, occasional tables and comfortable chairs, and three sets of French windows to let in maximum light. Gerard was an avid reader and, when at home in his house in Hanover Square, often sat late into the night reading rather than retiring to his bedchamber, where he found it impossible to sleep. Indeed, he could hardly remember a night when he had slept through until morning.

      Gerard was a handsome man, tall, broad in the shoulder with strong legs that looked particularly well in the riding breeches he most often wore. His coats had never needed excessive padding at the shoulder. His hair was very dark but not black, his eyes grey and sometimes flinty. His expression was often brooding, stern, perhaps because his thoughts caused him regret. At this moment he wore a pair of buffcoloured breeches and topboots and his fine linen shirt was opened to the waist. A glass of wine was to hand, but he had scarcely touched it. Gerard had long ago discovered that there was no forgetfulness in a wine bottle.

      Before falling into a restless sleep, he had spent the night wrestling with his problem. His daughter was in need of feminine company, and not just that of nursemaids or a governess. He too was in need of a female companion: a woman with whom he could share his hopes and dreams, a woman he could admire and respect. In short, he needed a wife. Having made one mistake with the young French girl he had married out of pity, he did not wish to make another. Easy enough to find a mistress or even a young woman willing to become Countess Ravenshead, but there was only one woman Gerard wanted as his wife—the woman he had been denied when he was a young man and head over heels in love.

      He touched the scar at his right temple, the only blemish on a strong and handsome face, his eyes darkening at the memory it aroused. Amelia’s brother had instructed his servants to beat him when he dared to ask for her hand as a young man; he had not been wealthy enough to please the proud Sir Michael Royston! However, it was not fear of Sir Michael’s displeasure that made Gerard hesitate to ask Amelia Royston if she would be his wife now. Guilt weighed heavily on his conscience, because he had not told anyone the whole truth concerning his wife’s death. It was the reason for his nightmares.

      ‘Damn you, Lisette. Let me be…’ His eyes were dark with memories as he relived the dream. ‘So much blood…so much blood…’

      She had been ill for a long time after the birth of her child, but it was not that illness that had caused her death. Lisette had died by her own hand.

      He found her with her wrists cut in a bath of warm water. She was still alive when he dragged her from the bath, but barely breathing. He had tried frantically to save her, sending his servant for the doctor, but his efforts were in vain and she was dead when the doctor arrived. Lisette had been buried and Gerard mourned the loss of a young life.

      He had not loved her, but she haunted his dreams because he blamed himself for her death. He had married her out of pity, because she was young, alone and with child, abandoned by her lover in a country that was not her own. He knew that the father of her child was an English officer, but Lisette had never named him. His own dreams turned to dust, Gerard had done what he believed was the right thing—a good thing—but he had been unable to love her; when Lisette finally understood that, she had taken her own life.

       ‘I am so sorry…so very sorry…’

      Gerard had never been able to confess the truth to another living soul. He carried it inside, where it continued to fester. If he allowed his guilt to haunt him, it would ruin his life. Gerard had no idea whether or not Amelia would marry him if he asked her. What would she think if she knew the truth concerning his wife’s death?

      He had been on the point of asking her to be his wife once, but an urgent message had sent him hurrying to his daughter’s side in France. Little Lisa was a demanding child and she did not like her papa to leave her for long periods. Realising she needed more than her nurses, Gerard had brought her to England and placed her in the charge of an English nanny, but neither Lisa nor her papa was truly content.

      Gerard had reached the conclusion that he would never know true happiness unless he asked Amelia Royston to be his wife. He could not marry her without confessing his secret, which was one of the reasons why he had hesitated so long, for he feared that she would turn from him in disgust. He had wanted to die on the battlefield the first time he lost Amelia; to let himself hope and then lose her a second time would destroy him.

      This was ridiculous! He was a man of six and thirty and should be able to face up to the truth without fear of rejection. It might be better if he forgot about marriage altogether. He had broken Lisette’s heart, causing her to commit suicide. Perhaps he would do better to remain unwed.

      Amelia saw Gerard waiting for her the next morning as she went down to the hall. He was wearing a long coat with several capes, a warm muffler bound about his throat and a fur hat in the Russian style. He smiled his approval as he saw that she too was wearing a thick cloak and muffler, her gloved hands tucked inside a fur muff that hung suspended from a chain about her neck.

      ‘I see you are prepared for the weather, Amelia. There is a fine frost this morning.’

      ‘As there should be for Christmas Eve,’ she replied. ‘I think it will be just right for a brisk walk about the gardens, sir.’

      ‘My daughter would not agree with you.’ Gerard looked rueful. ‘I believe I was wrong to leave her so long in France. She finds our English weather cold and damp and asks constantly when do we return to Paris.’

      ‘Do you think of leaving England permanently?’ Amelia asked, doing her best to conceal her feeling of acute disappointment.

      ‘I considered it for a while,’ Gerard confessed. ‘However, I have decided that I should prefer to live in England where I have friends rather than mere acquaintances. Lisa must come to terms with the situation. I believe she will be happier once the summer comes.’

      ‘I think you may have been in the habit of giving her her own way?’ Amelia tipped her head to one side, her eyebrows slightly raised.

      ‘Yes, I have spoiled her,’ Gerard admitted and laughed. ‘She is a little charmer and I fear that I may have given in too often to her whims—which may be why she is giving poor Nanny such a difficult time. I hear complaints that she is sometimes sulky and unresponsive, though with me she is very different.’

      Amelia was thoughtful. ‘Is the nanny well recommended?’

      ‘Her references were good. She came from a family with whom she had served for more than six years. However, I have wondered if she is a little too strict with the child. I may have been too lenient, but I would not have Lisa’s life made a misery. It is not easy for a man alone…’ Gerard glanced at Amelia, a rueful look in his eyes. ‘I feel in need of a lady’s advice. Some ladies take little interest in their children. They feel their duty is done once the heir is produced, but you make it your business to care for unfortunate children. СКАЧАТЬ