03 - The Wicked Lady Read online

  Constance looked at Trevor, studying him. She caught a strange look in his eyes. One she hadn't seen before. There was also a calmness she sensed in Trevor instead of that restlessness that always seemed to plague him. She knew she'd surprised him with talk of love, but she didn't want Trevor to make a mistake. She had seen too many marriages suffer from lack of love.

  "Love is truly a gift that few of us get to experience," she said in a voice that seemed to come from a long way off. "And believe me, son, you will know when you're in love."

  "How is that, Grandmere?"

  His dark eyes showed the tortured dullness of disbelief. What else could she expect? Trevor hadn't had a normal childhood. When he had come to her, he had been fully grown at ten years old instead of a child, and she could vividly remember the lackluster expression in his eyes back then. He'd wanted his parents' love so badly he'd tried to be the perfect child. Of course, he had never succeeded, but that hadn't been his fault. How she wished she'd realized what was going on, and that she'd rescued Trevor sooner.

  "Love is special and hard to explain, but I shall try," Constance said, taking a deep breath. "When you can think of nothing but that one person. When they block all others from your mind so that when you're not with them, you find a part of yourself missing. When the first thing you do is look for them as you enter a crowded room and think of them when you are eating, and dream of them when you are sleeping. When you forget about pleasing yourself and think only of pleasing them. And suddenly the moon and stars are brighter when they are standing beside you, and turn dull when they are gone . . .

  "That's when you'll know a love so powerful that it will bring you to your knees," Constance finished in a whisper, wiping a tear that had slipped down her wrinkled cheek.

  Trevor looked at his grandmother. He'd never heard her speak like this before. She usually never showed her emotions and he really couldn't picture her and his grandfather in an intimate embrace, but evidently she had another side he'd never seen.

  "You loved Grandfather very much, didn't you?"

  "I did love," she said sadly and looked away. Someone, she thought to herself.

  Trevor reached over and pulled the older woman into his arms, giving her a hug the way he used to do when he was a child.

  "I know you miss Grandfather. Trevor sighed and moved away. Perhaps, one day, I can tell you I've experienced all the things you have just said. But I doubt that kind of love will exist for me." He held her away from him. "For now, I can tell you that I want Kristen for my wife." He didn't add that he wasn't sure why, other than the reason he'd told Kristen. "I pray that we will be as happy as you and grandfather were," Trevor added, though he doubted that statement. After they were married he'd probably see Kristen every couple of months to check on her. After all, he had a business to run and work to do. He couldn't be tied down in one place for very long.

  "I wish that for you, too." her voice had a compassionate tone. "But she is a Johnstone."

  "Yes, but in a week she'll be a Claremont." Trevor smiled at his speechless grandmother.

  Kristen had left in such a hurry and with such a full head of steam, she hadn't paid attention to where she was going. When she did slow down, she had no earthly idea where she was or what part of the house she was in. The place was so big she needed a map!

  She spotted a doorway to the right. If she were lucky, it would lead to a vacant room. Kristen hadn't made a good impression on the dowager duchess, who could very well make Kristen's life miserable. At the moment, she really didn't give a fig as she tested the doorknob to see if it opened.

  Luckily, the knob twisted, and she didn't see any reason why she shouldn't wander inside and look around, if only for a little while. The worst that could happen was someone would start yelling at her all over again.

  The room was of medium size and on the back part of the house. It had windows across one wall with little seats under each one. A plush yellow cushion perched on each seat. Kristen stepped closer to look out. She couldn't control the small gasp that slipped out as she marveled at how beautiful the back of the house appeared.

  To her left lay a garden of bright red and yellow tulips and there were green shrubs everywhere. Surely, this must be paradise. She'd be sure to take a walk later and enjoy the beauty she'd seen only in books. There was nothing about the docks in London that were pretty and the only thing colorful had been the language. She now had the ability to swear in several languages. A giggle escaped her before she could stop it as she wondered whether the duchess would care to hear a few of the words she'd learned.

  Looking around the room, she found the decor of yellow and green a cheerful indeed. It was very comforting. This room seemed more like a home and didn't have the formality of the rest of the house.

  There were pictures everywhere. One especially caught her attention. Kristen moved over to take a closer look at the child's portrait.

  The artist had been good, for he'd caught the rare mixture of color that made up Trevor's unusual eyes. She bent closer. She could even see the small brown fleck near the center of his eyes.

  "Amazing," she murmured.

  "Do you like my portrait?" A voice came from the door, catching her attention.

  She glanced over her shoulder. "Very much," she admitted. "You were a handsome child."

  "Thank you." Trevor smiled at her praise. "There is something special about this painting." He moved up behind her. "Stand here." He pointed. "And look at the child's eyes. What do you see?"

  "Green. Very vivid at that."

  "Good." He nodded his approval. "Now, stand over here." He took her by the arms and positioned her on the other side of the painting. "What do you see now?"

  "Why the eyes are blue!" She turned and looked at him with her astonishment clearly showing. "How did he do that?"

  "I'm not sure." Trevor smiled and inclined his head. "I was around ten years old, and I remember the artist complaining about painting my eyes. The first time he painted them green, and then he rubbed that out and painted them blue." Trevor's smile widened as he told the story. "To tell you the truth, I believe he'd wished he never taken the commission." He chuckled. "Grandmere said he couldn't leave until he got the painting exactly right."

  "Of course, everything would have to be perfect," Kristen said before she thought. "That sounds like her." She frowned. "This time, I must admit, her persistence paid off."

  "Listen." Trevor rubbed his chin as he figured out how to explain his grandmother's behavior. "It's going to take Grandmere a while to adjust. But she will come around. I'm sure of it. She'll accept everything when you stand beside me next week."

  Kristen twisted her lips into a cynical smile. "Ye wanna bet money on that?"

  "I see you gamble, too." He grinned. "Let's just say under that hard crust, the woman loves me, and she'll come to love you if given time."

  "As in a hundred years."

  He moved closer. "Who couldn't love my little thief?"

  "Yer a bit tae close." She took a step back.

  "Not as close as I'll be a week from now." He shortened the distance.

  "But that's in a week." She placed a hand on his chest. "Ye could be disappointed 'cause I-I dinna--"

  Trevor caressed her cheek with his fingers. "I will not be disappointed." His voice softened. "You have been full of surprises so far. I can't imagine you changing in a week."

  Kristen felt the warmth spread through her like melting butter on hot bread. But she wasn't comfortable in this house, and she didn't want him to think that every time he touched her, she would fall into his arms. She needed to show him some resistance instead of melting at his feet. But he didn't need to know that.

  She pulled away. "I thought you were going to take Hagan riding." She tried not looking at him, knowing she'd go straight back into his arms with very little encouragement. She was addicted to this man for sure.

  She was doomed.

  Trevor went from deliciously warm to ice cold. In less tha
n two seconds. What was the matter with him? He couldn't keep his hands off her.

  "Yes, I was," he answered, his tone a little irritated. "And I believe the seamstress has arrived to start fitting you for your dress."

  "Then ye'll have tae show me the way." She started for the door. Do ye have a map of this place?"

  Trevor chuckled. "No, you'll find your way around in due time."

  "I wouldn't bet on it."

  Chapter Nine

  After three days of fittings, Kristen grew tired of standing on the small stool while three woman pinned and poked her. Every time she moved, a pin stuck her somewhere, and she felt that she'd been patient long enough.

  Kristen looked down at the yards and yards of beautiful white, pearl-drenched satin and French lace that draped across a solid white skirt, then swept up in the back and blended with a long train down the back. She ran her hand across the smooth material.

  The satin felt cool.

  She felt numb.

  The women chattered around her, talking about how fine the material felt and how expensive the tiny pearls cost, but they were not speaking directly to Kristen. It was as if she didn't exist except as someone to hold the garment off the floor. That was one of the problems. Since she'd come to Chatsworth, she felt absolutely useless. Before, she'd had to provide food for Hagan, and take care of him, and had always been on the move. Now all that was done by someone else.

  She had no purpose for her days. And Trevor most certainly didn't need her. He seemed to always be busy, and dowager duchess wanted no part of her, which left Kristen alone most of the time.

  "If you'll hold your arm out," one of the girls said, bringing Kristen back to the moment. She looked down at them, but they were too busy pulling more pins out of boxes to talk to her.

  Mainly they issued instructions, as in turn this way and that, but after days of standing perfectly straight Kristen's patience had worn thin. She didn't want to hold her arms out any more. She wanted to sit down and rest.

  "Stand up straight!" A sharp voice snapped out from somewhere behind Kristen. "A Claremont always stands tall."

  Kristen turned, causing the three seamstresses to grumble. She looked at Trevor's Grandmother, who stood in the doorway with her arms folded, eyeing her down her aristocratic nose. Kristen bet ice water ran in the old bat's veins.

  "Then I have a week tae rest 'til then," she said flippantly.

  "I suggest you start now," Constance bit out again. A shadow of annoyance crossed her face. "You have much to learn about your new station in life, young lady, and in a very short time. So I suggest you try harder."

  A lesson in manners wouldn't hurt you, either, Kristen thought, but politely didn't voice her thoughts this time. She did stand a little straighter just to prove to the old bat that she could. "Are ye about through?" she asked the women scurrying around her. "I need tae sit for a while before I fall down."

  The youngest seamstress looked at Kristen. "I think we have it." She stood and for the first time smiled. "You will make a lovely bride, mum."

  "Thank you," Kristen said as she stepped out of her satin gown. Immediately, she started scratching all the places where the pins had pricked her tender skin. What a relief, she sighed. Kristen pulled on her yellow jaconet muslin dress. The skirt was neatly trimmed with fine double tucks. One of the seamstresses helped fasten the corded band around Kristen's waist. She turned to leave, but found that Constance still lingered in the doorway.

  Constance addressed the seamstresses in her most haughty voice. "Please put your best effort into this gown. My grandson deserves only the best."

  The oldest seamstress, who had an armful of wedding dress gave her an indulgent smile. "This will be the loveliest gown I have ever created, Your Grace." The woman handed the gown to her assistants, then gathered her scissors and pins while the other two packed up the garment. "I will have it ready three days hence."

  "Good. I will look for it then." Constance dismissed the seamstresses by turning to Kristen. "I would like to speak with you--"

  "Kristen . . ." Kristen supplied the missing name, knowing she needed to get along with this woman. If the saints were willing, she'd try. "Are ye able tae walk in the garden?"

  "I haven't been in the garden in ages," the dowager duchess said as a look of longing crossed her face. "Yes, I would like to go outside today."

  For a brief moment, Kristen saw a human element in the woman. "If ye'll lead the way, I believe sunshine awaits us." Kristen swept her hand toward the door, then followed Constance, keeping with the woman's slow pace. "Why haven't ye been out tae yer lovely gardens? I saw them from the window earlier and they are very beautiful."

  Walking leisurely, Kristen could see how feeble the woman really was though she hid it well most of the time. Maybe that had a lot to do with her gruff exterior.

  They moved through the glass doors at the rear of the house out onto the terrace. Kristen held Constance's arm as they went down the flight of stairs that led out onto the lawn and, surprisingly, the woman let her.

  "The past winter has been so miserable with these bitter Scotland winds that I took to my bed for months," Constance complained, her eyes hard and filled with regret.

  Kristen's steps slowed as she tried to figure out this woman. "Why do ye stay here when London might be more suitable?"

  "Because this is my home," Constance explained as she walked with a stiff dignity, her heels clicking on the flagstone steps.

  "I'm sorry tae hear that ye haven't been feeling well. Ye are feeling better now?"

  "Yes, a little. I must admit that Trevor's news was a bit of a surprise, as I am sure you can imagine." Constance stopped and picked a blood red rose, then held it to her nose as she studied Kristen.

  " 'Twas a wee bit of a shock tae me, too."

  A thin white eyebrow rose a fraction. "Oh, really?"

  Kristen studied the lady. Her skin was wrinkled and thin, and she looked very tired. But she'd probably been pretty in her youth. "Trevor hasn't explained how we met?"

  She shook her head. "No, he hasn't"

  "Then I will let him tell ye, but I can say 'twas a bit of a rescue."

  "I see. He felt responsible."

  "Something like that." Kristen reached down and picked a rose for herself.

  "Where is your family from?"

  The woman might have a few wrinkles, but her mind was sharp. Kristen was trying to be careful and not say the wrong thing. She could imagine the woman going into shock if she heard the real story. "Hagan is the only family I have. My parents are dead."

  "Such a shame." Constance handed Kristen the rose she had picked, then reached for another. "I guess, in that way, you and Trevor are alike. He didn't get to know his parents very well. I hate to admit it, but my daughter-in-law wasn't the best mother." Constance seemed to catch herself before she revealed too much. "I will not have anyone hurting Trevor. Do you understand? He has a bright future, and deserves the best."

  "I agree," Kristen admitted. "And I have pointed that fact out to him. He could do much better than me."

  "I quite agree. But he sees things differently, so I expect you to live up to his standards." Constance spoke with cool authority.

  He saw things differently? Kristen wondered what he'd said to his grandmother. "I'll do my best as long as he lives up tae mine." She would meet the woman halfway, but she would stand her ground. Actually, Kristen could see a different woman hidden just beneath the surface. She had caught a glimpse of that person just a minute ago. Maybe this crusty exterior was the duchess's way of protecting herself.

  "Your Grace," a maid called as she hurried toward them.

  As soon as the maid got close enough, she continued, "We have guests, mum."

  "Who?"

  "Miss Charity Fullbright and her maid, mum."

  Constance immediately smiled. "Good. Tell her I'll be there in a moment." She slowly turned back toward the house. "Come, Kristen, and I will introduce you to a very lovely, young lady."


  Kristen complied, but she had misgivings of meeting anyone who was a ravishing beauty. Especially since she considered herself very plain.

  In a few minutes they were in the drawing room, and Kristen stood face to face with the lovely Charity. Kristen watched as the Dowager Duchess hugged the girl. Constance was right. Charity was beautiful. She had black hair which hung in ringlets, and vivid blue eyes. Her cheekbones were high and refined and her lips a soft pink.

  Kristen hated her! And then she realized how unfair she was being. Hadn't she resented the way the duchess had judged her?

  "Where is Catherine?" Constance asked. "I thought she was coming with you."

  "Mother wasn't feeling well and decided to stay home. She sends her regards." Charity smiled.

  "I'm sorry to hear such. However, bed is the best place when one isn't feeling chipper." Constance turned and motioned for Kristen to come beside her. I would like for you to meet Kristen Johnstone."

  Charity nodded. "Charmed."

  " 'Tis nice to meet ye." Kristen managed to smile.

  "Thank you," Charity murmured politely. "I'm sorry Mother couldn't come."

  Charity was very feminine. Yet another reason to hate her.

  "You must be Trevor's fiancée."

  Kristen nodded.

  "I've known Trevor since we were children. It will be nice to know you're living here." Charity's smile seemed sincere.

  Confusion settled on Kristen's shoulders as she found herself softening to someone she'd expected to hate. "And why is that?"

  "Because we will be neighbors. Living this far out, it's very nice to have friends."

  "Come, let's find Trevor." Constance ushered Charity out of the room, leaving Kristen behind. "I know he will want to see you immediately."

  Kristen really wasn't surprised by Constance's rude behavior. It actually put Kristen on guard when the woman was nice to her. She shook her head and went to find Hagan.

  As she walked down the hallway, her mind keep wandering to Charity and Trevor. Would Trevor really be glad to see the lovely lady? What man wouldn't? Kristen shook herself. Why did she care?