Pleasures of the Night by Heather Boyd

Chapter 18

Eugenia was wallowing in bed three days after her husband’s return when she heard the distinct sound of someone opening her bedchamber door. She quickly wiped her eyes, embarrassed to have been caught feeling sorry for herself. Although she considered raising her head to see who it was, she didn’t want to face her cousins yet. She assumed it was one of them coming to check on her yet again.

The imposter came back, day after day, only to be sent away after an hour of awkward conversation with her. That was all she could bear before misery started to get the better of her good sense. She felt nothing of her former love when she was with the man. He kept talking about them living together and her skin crawled.

But she would have to face him again soon—face everyone not connected to this house, too, eventually. Her cousins understood her reticence to show her face to the world and hadn’t pressed her to be at home to anyone. They promised Wharton understood, as well. She hadn’t been brave enough to face the marchioness or Thaddeus yet…not that he had even bothered to call to see how she fared under a cloud of such scandal.

She was sure he must have heard by now. His silence was nigh on deafening. After what they had shared in recent weeks, what he must have heard from gossip, she was sure she’d shocked him into not liking her anymore.

An odd creaking sound drew closer, together with the halting footsteps of someone trying to be quiet.

The creaking stopped, and the footsteps scurried from the room.

Eugenia sat up and found herself face to face with the Marchioness of Wharton. The older woman was a tiny figure in her invalid chair—pale as a sheet, her cheeks hollow and her eyes sad. This was the first time she’d ventured from her room, to Eugenia’s knowledge.

“My lady.”

“Well?” she said, eyes narrowing. “What have you to say for yourself?”

“Good morning,” she said quickly, brushing her hair away from her face and into some semblance of order, sitting up fully to smile at the older woman. The marchioness had insisted she be kept informed of all matters pertaining to the family and society at large, despite her slow recovery. Sylvia would have informed the marchioness of Eugenia’s changed situation—her husband’s return from the grave.

“You are not in your best looks to attempt that smile, so do not try.” The marchioness’ eyes narrowed even more. “You are not pleased.”

“No.” Eugenia shook her head. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I am familiar with that difficulty, along with many other maladies. But I would never let a husband deprive me of my rest.”

The marchioness had a dry wit that usually made her smile. However, today she was beyond cheering up. “I have been trying to reconcile my memory of Robbie Bagshaw with the stranger that appeared in the drawing room, to no avail. They could not be the same man, and yet the similarities are there to see. He knows facts about me only my husband could know. Plans we made to meet in secret before we married.”

The marchioness winced as she moved in her chair, leaning a little closer. “Similarities are common in families. Did your husband have a brother? A cousin?”

“He did not mention anyone besides his mother. He was all she had in the world, he’d said.”

“There must be a purpose for your husband coming to claim you now.”

“He’s not my husband,” Eugenia snapped at her, then instantly regretted the outburst. “Do forgive me, my lady.”

However, a pleased smile creased the marchioness’ weary face. “Hold tight to your belief he’s an imposter, child. Misery does not become you. Your resolve will be tested in the days to come, I’m sure. Test him.” She gasped suddenly and quickly rang a bell that had been hidden by her hands in her lap. “Find out where’s been all these years,” she gasped.

The marchioness’ maid rushed in and, upon seeing the marchioness in distress, carefully turned the invalid chair to face the door. But the marchioness’ hand suddenly rose to halt her exit. “Eugenia, be as shrewish as you can when you question him. Play the part of an unhappy wife to the hilt, and give him every reason to reconsider his ploy. If he was never dead, then your husband abandoned you for four years. Never let him forget his failing as your provider and protector. Question his honor every chance you get.”

The marchioness chuckled, but it turned quickly into a gasp of pain. “As a start,” she croaked, “go out with your cousin and purchase something exceedingly expensive and useless and hand him the bill to pay.”

“If I cannot afford to pay for extravagances from my own pocket, I would not ever do such a thing,” Eugenia reminded the older woman, who sometimes forgot the Hillcrest family were not as well off as the Whartons were.

“Would an imposter know that about you?”

“Robbie would have.”

“That’s what I thought. Wharton will pay whatever trifling amount you consider extravagant, my dear,” Lizzy promised. “He will hardly notice the loss in his pocket, I assure you.”

“I could always return the item when the point has been made that he couldn’t afford a wife,” Eugenia mused.

“Do whatever you feel is right, dear. You always do.”

The maid wheeled the marchioness away slowly at her command, being careful not to jostle the woman any more than necessary.

Aurora darted into the room almost immediately. “Was that the marchioness out of bed?”

“Indeed, it was. I thought she must finally be feeling better in herself, but I think she just misses ordering me about.”

Aurora shushed her. “Sylvia will be so relieved to hear she got up. What did she want?”

Eugenia smiled. “The marchioness is a remarkably determined and clever woman. She sees things from a unique perspective I might never have thought of myself.”

“I am almost afraid to hear what she suggests be done,” Aurora said as she climbed on the bed as if waiting for a good tale, rubbing her hands together. “So tell me.”

“One of the things Lizzy suggested is that I shop extravagantly, and hand my would-be husband the bill of sale to pay.”

“Oh, my,” Aurora said with a wicked laugh, clearly exciting with the idea. “That could be painful for him if you let me help you.”

“Indeed, it could be,” Eugenia agreed. She wouldn’t have to be truly extravagant at first. She could work up to that, taunt him with the ongoing expenses a wife might incur for a London season. Eugenia knew that stranger wasn’t her husband, but she couldn’t prove it still unless he forgot himself. “I’ve been wrestling with the problem for days, but I can’t wait for Wharton’s investigator to report back. The marchioness has delivered the lightning rod to stir me to rid myself of him once and for all.”

“I want to help!” Aurora cried. “I’ll go and change to go out with you.”

“Thank you,” she called after her cousin, grateful for her unfailing support.

If Eugenia had been abandoned by Robbie, she’d have every right to be furious with him. She’d married him, given him her innocence, and what little funds she’d saved—fifty pounds—had gone with him upon their marriage. To her, those funds had been a fortune. It still was, too. When the imposter dared complain about her high spending today, she could demand to know what had become of her money…and any past pin money that should have been paid to her over the years he’d been gone.

Eugenia rushed to her wardrobe, but only drab colors and dark tones greeted her. Not that she’d deliberately chosen to mourn Robbie by wearing mourning for all these years. She’d believed the dark colors had suited her complexion better than pale gowns. But now, if this stranger claimed she was a wife, well, she had every right to desire a completely new wardrobe of bright new clothes in any color she fancied.

She changed into her prettiest gown for her early morning shopping spree and then went to her dressing table, where she saw Teddy’s gift sitting in her drawer. She picked it up, and her heart longed for him as she admired it anew.

So perfect a secret gift, but their affair was likely over now.

Aurora returned, dressed to go out, smiling and eager to be underway. But she stared at Eugenia, sitting before her mirror. “Please tell me you are not primping to impress him?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” On impulse, she decided to wear Teddy’s gift around her neck instead of her waist from now on. The gold chain and charm fell down her bodice, and she quite liked the way she looked wearing the token of her lover’s affection.

She hoped not for the first time that she hadn’t lost him.

Aurora came closer, frowning at the necklace. “Is that from him? From Teddy,”

“Yes. I had intended to give it back when we were over, but I can’t give it up yet.”

“I don’t blame you. I’d want to keep him, too,” Aurora confessed.

Eugenia nodded slowly. The one thing she’d accepted in the past few days is that she did not just like Thaddeus for passion. She loved him. What hurt the most was knowing she’d lost him before she was ready to let him go.

Eugenia and Aurora stumbled up the stairs of Wharton House four hours later, utterly exhausted and laughing, with their footman Mr. Bloom and a groom from the carriage bringing up the rear, both with their arms full. All the years Eugenia had scrimped and saved every shilling to make ends meet had repressed her desire for any personal extravagance. It had come to a screeching halt today in the very best way imaginable.

Eugenia had found, once given a good excuse, she had quite expensive tastes after all.

Aurora had had a glorious time pointing out items for her consideration. Eugenia now owned so many pairs of dancing slippers she didn’t truly need that she’d felt a pinch of shame at the likely tally at day’s end.

But she was trying to make a point to her husband’s imposter that he couldn’t afford her—or to continue his little game another day longer.

The butler took their hats and whispered, “He’s returned.”

Eugenia liked that the butler did not refer to the stranger as Robert Bagshaw, a man lost and mourned. “Thank you. Where might I find him?”

“In the library with Lord Wharton.”

When other footmen tried to relieve Mr. Bloom of his packages and take them upstairs, she asked them instead to stack her purchases on the round table in the center of the front hall. “Mr. Bloom, do you happen to have the bills of sale for all this?”

“I do,” he promised.

Eugenia had admitted her plan to him at the start of their shopping trip in a bid to unmask the imposter. To say he was supportive was an understatement. He believed her straight off. Said he’d not liked the look of that pestersome fellow who kept coming round the grand houses in the square.

“Be a dear man and interrupt Lord Wharton to deliver the bills of sale to the gentlemen pretending to be my husband in the library. I’m sure Wharton will not mind.”

While she waited for Mr. Bloom’s return, Eugenia flittered around the vast pile, showing Aurora her purchases again and, once or twice, roping in the butler for his opinion, too.

“Lovely,” he muttered, looking perplexed by her behavior.

She didn’t want everyone to think she’d become a pea-goose without wit or intelligence. She slipped him a vale. “The marchioness suggested a shopping spree would improve my mood and sour the imposter’s.”

The butler chuckled softly. “Ah, that explains your,” he searched for the right word, “transformation.”

The imposter burst from the library, practically breathing fire, and the butler wisely backed away. “What is the meaning of this, woman?”

“Just a trifling few things I needed,” Eugenia said in the most air-headed tone she could manage upon seeing him. “I knew you’d happily take care of it all.”

He shook the papers at her. “Are you trying to bankrupt me? I’ll not pay for one half of this. Take them back.”

“I couldn’t possibly do that. It would take all day and break those poor shopkeepers’ hearts,” she said with a shrug of unconcern. “After all the years I’ve done without, surely you can understand why I’m anxious to turn heads now. Everyone believes I was an abandoned bride. This will prove I’m not, and help improve society’s opinion of me.”

The imposter ground his teeth. She heard them gnashing before his oily smile appeared. “Of course, my dear. Buy whatever makes you happy. Everyone in high society lives on credit anyway.”

Wharton had followed and looked on curiously. “Women are expensive creatures, Bagshaw,” he warned. “Satisfy one need and another soon arises. I should probably deliver to you her other bills now, and discuss a settlement of the past expenses and the upkeep I’ve endured on her behalf. Be grateful she has no love of horses or fine carriages, or you’d have the expense of stabling to bear, too.

“There’s really no sense me holding on to her bills when she’s a perfectly good husband to settle her accounts all over Town now. It shouldn’t take very long, if you have a moment to sort through the pile that’s much larger than those,” Wharton promised, gesturing vaguely to her purchases. “Mr. Bloom, attend to all this, just as you have the others in the past.”

“Yes, my lord.” Mr. Bloom nodded.

The butler came forward. “Shall I have a bottle of that French champagne you liked so much when the Prince Regent called last time served with luncheon today?”

“Oh, please, my lord,” Eugenia gushed, holding her hands at her chest. “It would make me so happy, but we will need three bottles I’m sure.”

“Whatever you like, my dear,” Wharton promised. “Only the best for my future wife’s relations.”

“Oh, you are a dear man indeed,” Eugenia gushed. “It is just the thing to revive our energies before we go out again shopping this afternoon.”

The imposter’s eyes kept growing wider and wider as she gushed and fibbed about her plans, but his mouth remained firmly shut. She’d have to try harder to aggravate him.

“I am looking forward to going out to tonight’s amusements.”

That loosened his tongue. “Out?! Where?”

“The Duchess of Baxter is hosting a charity dinner to raise funds for the poor orphans. I’m sure there’ll be a bidding war over who gets the first dance with her son, too. Last time, he attracted a winning bid of five hundred pounds. I’ll do better this year and beat everyone.”

Bagshaw’s eyes bulged. “Do you have five hundred pounds to waste on a dance?”

“Oh, gracious no. No money ever really changes hands at these things. Far too gauche. I simply promise to pay, and it all works out in the end.”

“I paid last year,” Wharton lied, since Eugenia hadn’t known him then, nor lived under his roof at that time. “But of course, I’m happy to step aside so you can have the honor of footing the bill all for yourself.”

Wharton walked away, covering his mouth to hide a grin, and returned promptly, hands full of papers. “I haven’t had time to sort it all out yet, but I’m sure you’ll manage admirably without my help. It should only be a few thousand pounds this quarter. I’ll get the rest to you tomorrow, or the next day at the latest.”

The imposter stared at the papers and then at her as if she were a live snake. “I can see that the sooner we return home to Dover, the better. London has corrupted the sweet lass I fell in love with so many years ago.”

“Sweet?” Eugenia frowned at him. No one had ever described her as sweet. Especially not Robbie. “And where were you for all those years, might I ask?”

“We’ll discuss that later.” He glanced down at the paperwork. “After I deal with this.” He turned a glare on the butler. “Well, don’t just stand there. Fetch my hat, man.”

Wharton stepped forward. “Are we not going to settle her debts now?”

“No. I’m afraid I have an important engagement that I am late for. I’ll return tomorrow,” the imposter claimed. “And I expect you to not be late again.”

Wharton nodded to the butler to go for the hat, but his eyes remained fixed on Bagshaw’s openly hostile form.

Eugenia pasted a smile of unconcern on her face as she watched her would-be husband struggle to control his temper. For added irritation, she twirled her skirts. Appearing vacuous and foolish, but what did she care if he thought ill of her? He obviously took her for a fool who would meekly fall into line and do as he demanded.

Robbie would never have behaved like this man. He’d been a gentleman. Respectful to those above him and below. She would have felt ashamed of nearly bankrupting her late husband if he’d been here, instead of the stranger standing in his place.

Bagshaw turned to her. She saw the exact moment when he noticed the appeal of her body. His nostrils flared as he approached, hand outstretched. “Wear that pretty smile for me again tomorrow, wife, and all will be well between us.”

But her smile had been for Robbie…not a scoundrel wearing his face.

She held her ground, determined not to respond to his entreaty to place her hand in his. She did not want his hands anywhere upon her. Yet, he came closer anyway and wrested her hand into his. His touch was repellant, even with his fingers encased in gloves. He gripped her hand tight, and his eyes locked on hers.

Then he did something that nearly buckled her legs. He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, the way Robbie had done to charm her when they’d first met.

The way she still did occasionally to muddle gentlemen.

She jerked her hand back from him. Appalled that he knew even that trick, too.

The imposter smiled. “Perhaps tomorrow you’ll be in a more loving frame of mind, wife.”

“Never,” she hissed, letting all trace of vacuous stupidity fall away.

The man’s eyes dipped to her cleavage. “Indeed, I have stayed away from the delights of my wife too long. Never fear, I will not leave you alone again, wife. Into my arms first, and then home to bed.” He said it all softly and with a degree of certainty that made her want to shiver.

Wharton drew closer, clearly trying to hear what was being whispered to her. He shook his head, apparently missing the threat but not the change in atmosphere between her and the imposter.

He was suddenly at her side, standing closer to Eugenia than he normally would. “Do you have a home, sir? Where is it?”

“It’s a charming property on Albemarle Street. I asked around and I’m told it is leased to my wife, though now it belongs to her husband,” he taunted, smiling his oily smile.

Eugenia nearly threw herself at him to scratch out his eyes, but Wharton caught her hand instead and held her firmly in place. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed at him.

“Our home now. All I need is a key or a locksmith.” The imposter smiled, clearly pleased with himself. “I’ll return for my wife tomorrow.”

Eugenia waited until he was gone before she turned on Wharton. “How could you tell him about Albemarle Street?”

“I never said a word to him about the place. That means he’s either followed you there or has been asking around.” Wharton shrugged. “Not to worry. The men following Bagshaw will report any incursions into the townhouse and expedite his eviction. The lease is in my name, not yours. If he goes there, he’s trespassing.”

“But my belongings are there. I need to know that he’s not going there now to take possession. He could take everything I value away with him and claim it’s his right.”

Wharton nodded. “I’ll send a few servants to stay there and report back to you, but you absolutely must promise me you will not go there alone anymore.”

“He wouldn’t hurt me.”

Wharton turned astonished eyes on her. “How would you know that if he’s a stranger? The way he looked at you just now concerns me greatly. A woman alone cannot hope to defend herself against a much stronger man bent on ravishment. And since he claims to be your husband, no court on earth can stop him taking you whenever he likes. You will take Mr. Bloom and another footman whenever you leave this house, and that is final.”

Eugenia shivered and, on longer consideration, agreed to Wharton’s sensible demand. “You know, Robbie would never have forced me into his bed. He never had to.”

“I suspect you are dealing with a far different creature. An imposter, or perhaps a man changed by the years apart from you. But make no mistake, he is determined to cling like a barnacle to your skirts.”

“What more has he said to you that you haven’t told me?”

“It’s not so much what he said but the way he questions how we live and where we go. I suspect he’s planning to include himself on the basis of being family to my future bride.”

Eugenia winced. “I’m sorry.”

“We will adapt if we must.”

Eugenia vowed there would be no need for anyone to adapt at all.

Shoving her shopping spree in his face hadn’t had the effect she’d intended. She’d meant to anger him, show him she was too good for him, not put herself up on a platter for him to devour with his eyes. She would have to remember she wasn’t dealing with a gentleman. She was faced with a man with no conscience and no qualms about impersonating a dead man.

She longed for Thaddeus, and his arms wrapped tightly about her body. “Did anyone come to visit today?”

“Not today. It has been blessedly quiet save for Bagshaw demanding breakfast again while he waited for you. Were you expecting someone in particular?”

“No.” It had been four days now since she’d last seen Thaddeus. Last touched. Last kissed. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling, not knowing what he thought of her.

She had to talk to him, and nothing short of a face-to-face discussion would do.