Scandal of Love Page 7

  Aubrey nodded her agreement, but Sera saw the knowledge, the doubt in her eyes. “Come, let us fill up on chocolate.”

  They walked through the doors of the confectionary, the sweet, rich scents wafting over them as they ordered their desired pieces.

  “Shall we head back to my house for tea?” Sera offered, not wanting to let go of Aubrey’s companionship and return to an empty home.

  Aubrey nodded. “Tea and chocolate. You know I won’t ever turn that offer down.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.”

  With their chocolate packages wrapped up tightly, they sent off Aubrey’s carriage with a note to her family.

  They rode home in short time, quickly dispensing of their bonnets and gloves.

  “Mrs. Buttersly, would you mind bringing us a tea service when you get a moment,” Sera asked the housekeeper.

  “Right away, my lady. The cook is already boiling the water.”

  “Excellent. Thank you.”

  With a curtsy, Mrs. Buttersly left to ready the tea tray.

  They wandered down the hallway to Sera’s receiving room and flopped down into the chairs.

  “I’m exhausted,” Aubrey proclaimed, puffing a piece of hair out of her face.

  Sera laughed. “Me too. Remember in our first season when we could shop for hours? What’s happened to us over the last two years?”

  “I haven’t a clue.”

  They were still laughing when the tea tray was brought in, and discreetly placed on the table in front of them.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Buttersly.”

  With a smile and quick nod, she accepted Sera’s gratitude. She walked toward the door before snapping her fingers and turning back toward them. “Oh, I almost forgot. A package arrived for you while you were out, my lady. Would you like it brought here?”

  “Yes. Do you know who it is from?”

  “I can’t say. It did come with a note though.”

  Sera nodded before the housekeeper went to fetch the package. Who would have sent her something?

  “I wonder who it is from.” Aubrey reached for the teapot before her eyes lit up. “Perhaps Lord Bromley went back and purchased another copy of Vivian Black’s book for you.”

  They both chuckled at that. “I doubt it. He seemed in a hurry.”

  Aubrey leaned toward the tray, fixing herself a cup of tea. “Well I do hope he did. I would love to start reading it now.”

  Sera grinned. “Me too.”

  Mrs. Buttersly entered the room; the white paper wrapped box in her hand was topped with a red ribbon. “Here we are, my lady.” She set the package on the table before giving a curtsy.

  With a nod of gratitude, Sera dismissed her.

  “I think we can safely discount it being a book,” Sera said, eyeing the dimensions of the package.

  “Agreed. A book couldn’t fit in there.” Aubrey paused. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

  “Of course.” She didn’t know why she hesitated. She had received gifts before, but none since she had been engaged. Who could it be from? She reached for the glossy cream note.

  “It’s from Quinton,” Sera said in surprise. “He says, ‘For many more visits to the opera.’ How interesting. What could it be?”

  Aubrey leaned forward. “Well, let’s open it and see.”

  Sera untied the silky ribbon. “I don’t know what it could be. I know he doesn’t have much money to spend on gifts.”

  “Well, that just makes it more special doesn’t it? He knows you wouldn’t expect anything because of his lack of funds.”

  Sera nodded in agreement. “True.”

  Tearing the creamy outer paper, she lifted a layer of stiff paper and gasped. Gold opera glasses, with mother of pearl inlayed in a feminine design, lay on soft fabric, protecting it from scratching. “It’s beautiful,” Sera said, slightly breathless. Picking up the glasses, she could feel their weight and knew they must be costly. “It must have cost quite a bit.”

  “It’s breathtaking. I wonder where he found it. I can’t imagine he just had it laying around.”

  “No, I can’t either.”

  Sera ran her fingers over the cool mother of pearl, watching it reflect light like fire.

  “He didn’t have to do this,” Sera whispered. “It must have cost him at least half of what he has left to survive on.”

  Aubrey came and sat next to her, wrapping her arm around her. “No he didn’t, but he did.” They were quiet for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts. “Do you still think he started the rumor?”

  “I don’t know.” She set the present aside, but kept glancing over at the beautiful piece, wondering about the man who gave it to her. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

  “A greedy man wouldn’t have purchased that for a fiancée he had already secured. Perhaps you are wrong about him.”

  “Perhaps.” But she wasn’t sure. She would never be sure. It was easy to do something nice after getting what you wanted. Could she ever trust him?

  Sera hated that she had doubts. She hated this situation. The present was beyond beautiful, but it brought even more confusion to her circumstances.

  She had learned at the opera the other night that Quinton could possibly be a friend to her. They didn’t need to be enemies. But what did these glasses mean? Was he trying to buy her affections? Trying to say sorry? She just wished she knew.

  If she only knew more about him, she would know what this present meant.

  “Let’s drink our tea. I’m not sure I can think about the gift right now.” That seemed to be her coping mechanism for the day, deciding not to think about it. That would only last so long. She couldn’t put off thinking of Quinton and what was happening between them forever.

  Aubrey looked at her with concern, but finally nodded, taking a seat across from her again.

  She didn’t want to think about Quinton yet, she couldn’t. But the glasses kept shining from inside the wrapping, catching her attention and pulling her thoughts back to Quinton.

  Aubrey left soon after, and Sera contented herself with going to bed early. It was a good thing, because the next morning she was greeted with a small crisis.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Cook and Mrs. Buttersly have a slight fever,” Lydia said after waking her. It was still dark outside, a bright moon shined through her curtains.

  Fevers were never to be taken lightly. A seemingly innocent one could signal a much greater illness. Whipping the bedclothes aside, she sat up. “How serious is it? Have you summoned the doctor?”

  Lydia shook her head. “No, it isn’t too serious, but I think they should stay in bed and rest.”

  “I agree. Do not allow them to leave their rooms, and make sure they have plenty of broth.”

  Lydia nodded. “What shall we do about the meals, my lady?”

  “There is nothing to worry about, Lydia,” Sera told her, hearing the concern in the maid’s voice. “I’m sure we can handle something. We won’t go hungry.” She climbed out of bed. “Could you fetch one of my old dresses?”

  Lydia looked surprised. “Whatever for?”

  “I prefer not to get any of my new dresses dirty. I can’t exactly give orders to the staff and oversee the chores if I’m worried about soiling my dress.”

  Nodding, Lydia fetched the gown before helping Sera to dress.

  Walking into the kitchen, they saw Cook’s helpers sitting around.

  Sera cleared her throat, gaining the attention of the younger women. “As you all know, Cook is sick and must stay in bed. I hope that she will recover quickly, but I have made it clear that she must remain there today and rest.”

  “Yes, my lady,” the three of them said.

  “I realize that you all are not cooks, but I know that you have great skill in what you do.” The three women seemed to stand a little straighter with her praise.

  “I will not pretend that I have any skill in the kitchen, but I hope that between us we will be able to feed the household.
”

  “Of course, my lady,” one of the women beamed. “I’m Mary. I bake bread here, but Cook has been teaching me to make eggs and how to cook and season bacon.”

  “Excellent. We will have you make breakfast then and bread for the day. Can you manage that?”

  “Yes, my lady,” Mary said with a curtsy, before hurrying to prepare the morning meal.

  Sera looked to the second girl, who blushed at the attention. “I’m Elizabeth, my lady. I mainly make pastries and desserts.”

  Sera smiled. “And they are delicious.”

  The girl blushed again.

  “Is there anything else you can make?”

  “I can do some vegetable side dishes. I’ve never made them for the household before, but I cook for my own family and they seem to like them.”

  “Excellent. Please prepare an arrangement of side dishes for dinner and dessert.” Sera turned her attention to the third woman. “Please tell me you know how to prepare meat.”

  “As a matter of fact I do, my lady,” the woman smiled.

  Sera sighed in relief. “Thank heavens! Please prepare the main dish for the evening meal.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Ok, so all that’s left is lunch. Any ideas?” She looked at the three women.

  Mary’s eyes lifted. “It wouldn’t be fancy, but we have some cold meat for sandwiches.”

  “Sandwiches will suffice. We aren’t expecting any company today, so it will just be the staff, my father, and myself.” She gave one final nod. “Good work. I appreciate all the extra effort you are going to put in today. I’ll make sure my father hears about it.”

  The three women smiled and curtsied before beginning to work.

  “Very well done, my lady,” Lydia said after they had left the kitchen.

  “Thank you.” Sera smiled. She may not know how to cook, but her mother had taught her how to run a household smoothly. “Would you mind gathering the maids together? I would like to speak with them before they begin their chores.”

  “Right away.” Lydia left to round up the women.

  A few minutes later the staff began to arrive on the landing.

  “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I know you are all very busy. As you have heard, Mrs. Buttersly is ill and cannot oversee the chores today. Since I do not do this all the time, I hope to have all of your help to guide me through it.” Everyone smiled at their mistress’ thoughtfulness. “I assume you have daily chores that you do?”

  “Yes, my lady,” Lydia answered for the group.

  “Excellent. Are there any extra chores that need to be done today?”

  “No. We washed the linens yesterday and most of the polishing will keep for a few more days.”

  “Ok, then. Let’s just stick to the normal chores. If there are any problems, please come to me and I’ll see if I can find a solution. Thank you all for your patience today.”

  The accidents began shortly thereafter. A small vase broke in the library while dusting, resulting in a crying maid. She knew she would not be turned out for the accident, but she was so shaken up over it, she cried for almost a half hour. A footman had jammed his finger, incurring a call for the doctor to examine him. Luckily, he proclaimed that it was only a slight sprain and put a splint on it. The footman would be able to go about his duties with little pain.

  Sera plopped onto a chair in her parlor, completely exhausted from the day’s events. She had known how hard her servants worked, but it was completely different to spend a day in their shoes. They should get a raise. Every last one of them.

  Looking at the clock, she groaned. It was six o’clock and she was supposed to meet Quinton at a soirée in a couple hours.

  A throb started in her head, building with momentum until she clenched her eyes, trying to rub the pain away.

  Lydia entered the parlor, her shoes clicking softly on the carpeted floors. “Cook’s and Mrs. Buttersly’s fevers have gone down. Come morning, they should be fit to return to their duties.”

  “Thank heavens.” Sera opened her eyes slightly.

  Lydia’s brows knotted. “Are you feeling well, my lady? You aren’t coming down with a fever yourself are you?” The concern was evident in her voice.

  Sera shook her head. “No. It is only a headache, but I fear I will have to cancel my appointment this evening. Would you mind fetching me a quill and paper? I will need to send my regrets.”

  “Of course.”

  After securing the items, Sera wrote a quick missive to Quinton, telling him she wouldn’t be able to make it tonight.

  “Please have that sent out immediately.”

  Lydia took the note, curtsying before she hurried out of the room to have it delivered.

  Mustering up her strength, she climbed the stairs to her room and took off the dusty dress she was wearing. The clean nightgown felt like heaven on her skin, and when she slid between the bedclothes, she closed her eyes with a sigh.

  She would feel better after she had rested.

  ***

  Quinton was finishing getting dressed for the evening when the note arrived.

  “A letter for you, my lord,” his butler said, holding it out for him.

  “Thank you. I take it that it just arrived.”

  “Yes. It was delivered by one of the Duke of Dorchester’s footmen.”

  Sera.

  Quinton nodded his thanks before the butler left. Allowing his valet to finish tying his cravat, he waited to read her letter until he had left. Not that it mattered. He assumed that a letter arriving at this time meant that she wouldn’t be able to make it.

  Opening the letter, his guess was confirmed.

  Quinton,

  I’m sorry to cancel at so late an hour, but I will not be able to make it tonight. A few members of my staff were suffering from a fever today, and I fear that I don’t feel well myself. Have a pleasant evening. I will see you soon.

  Sincerely,

  Sera

  Quinton’s heart froze. She was ill? If some of her staff had gotten a fever it was more than possible that she had caught the same sickness. Was it serious? Had a doctor been summoned?

  He re-read the letter two more times, hoping for a bit more information. None of his questions were answered.

  “Brums!”

  Seeming a bit startled, his butler came into the room. “Yes, my lord?”

  “Have the carriage readied immediately.” Brums turned quickly to do his master’s bidding.

  He had to see her, had to know how serious it was. He couldn’t say why. He just needed to know.

  Quickly climbing into the carriage, he told his driver to make haste to Sera’s house.

  She was fine. She had to be. He saw her not even two days ago, and she was in perfect health.

  Why couldn’t she have written a few more details about her situation? Did she think he wouldn’t care? Of course he did. She was his fiancée. He was obligated to care about her.

  Wasn’t he?

  It wasn’t obligation he felt for her though. He didn’t know what it was. But he was worried, growing more terrified by the moment that she might be seriously ill.

  Why were they driving so slowly? He cursed every pedestrian that had them halting, every carriage that blocked their path.

  Why was it taking so bloody long?

  He should have Dr. Whittier summoned immediately once he got there. If a doctor had already seen her, a second opinion never hurt. Plus he trusted Whittier.

  Once the carriage stopped in front of her house, he vaulted out the door and up the stairs to the large, wooden door.

  Knocking on the thick oak, he combed a hand through his hair, trying to calm his racing heart. It couldn’t be that bad. The servants didn’t seem to be in a frenzy to find doctors and nurses. He had overreacted. Everything was fine.

  Her butler answered the door, a surprised look crossing his face.

  “I would like to see Lady Sera.”

  The butler shook his head. “I
’m sorry, my lord, but did you not receive her note? She will not be attending this evening.”

  “Yes, I received her note. That is why I’m here.”

  “I’m sorry but she is not receiving visitors.”

  Ice chilled over his skin as fear clawed back into his soul. Was she so ill she couldn’t see anyone? Not even him? “Will you ask her if she will see me for only a moment?”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t. She has retired for the evening and has asked not to be disturbed.”

  “I see.” She had taken to her bed. It must be serious indeed. He could see from the steely gaze of the butler that he wouldn’t be getting through the door. He would still see her though. No matter what he had to do, he would see her.

  “Please tell her that I called,” Quinton said, backing away from the entrance.

  The butler’s muscles seemed to relax as he nodded before closing the door. Slowly walking down the steps, Quinton made sure no one was looking before heading toward the side of the building. He was pretty sure Sera’s room was located on the second story, the one with a balcony. The one room with an open window.

  Making sure he still went unnoticed, he latched onto the vines below her balcony, slowly climbing up to her window.

  He knew it was improper, but he had to see her. What was the worst that could happen? A scandal? She would be ruined? Been there, done that. Okay, well not really. But in people’s minds it had already happened.

  He would see her now. He needed to.

  Looking through the window, he saw the soft, feminine room, illuminated by rosy light from the fireplace.

  Glancing at the bed, he saw a lump under the covers, a slim white hand peeking out from underneath.

  Sliding through the window, he crept toward the ivory, canopied bed, careful not to walk too loudly on her wooden floor.

  “Sera?” he whispered, standing above the lump. It didn’t move. “Sera?” he repeated a bit louder. Still nothing.

  Dread filled him. Had she slipped into a coma? Was her fever raging too high? Where were her servants? Where were the people that were supposed to take care of her?

  Anger and fear consumed him as he gripped the hem of her covers, afraid of how sick she might be. Slowly pulling them down, he saw Sera’s golden curls loosely spilled over her pillow as she lay on her stomach.