Pleasures of the Night by Heather Boyd

Chapter 3

Eugenia woke and stretched and became instantly aware that she was not alone. “There are twelve unused bedchambers in this mansion. Why are you both in mine?”

“Well, you don’t come to mine anymore,” Sylvia complained.

“That is because the chances of finding a marquess in your bed are so very great.” Eugenia raised her head, grinning. Her cousins were gathered around her, still in their nightclothes, and both seemed wide awake. “What time is it?”

“A little after one in the afternoon.”

“Only just past the middle of the day!” She collapsed back upon her pillow. “Could we not have slept till it was almost time for dinner? The bags under my eyes will have bags under them again.”

“We’re tired, too,” Sylvia promised.

Eugenia sat up immediately and slid her sleeping cap from her hair, allowing it to tumble down over her shoulders and back as she studied her cousins’ faces. Since coming to live under Wharton’s roof to be of help with the marchioness, they all kept very odd hours. Sleep time was precious and usually guarded well. “What has happened to the marchioness overnight?”

“Nothing has changed for her, but Aurora couldn’t sleep.”

Relief swept over Eugenia. It was known that the marchioness’ health fluctuated depending on the day, and sometimes the hour, too. But the news that Aurora couldn’t sleep was disconcerting. “You sleep like the dead unless you have a man on her mind.”

“I do, but it’s not the usual,” Aurora said and then sighed. “I wish it were as uncomplicated as lusting after the unobtainable.”

Eugenia narrowed her eyes. “Scarsdale? Or is it Sullivan again?”

“Scarsdale,” Aurora whispered. “I don’t like that he’s singled me out for attention, even here.”

“Perhaps he loves you,” Sylvia said with a hopeful expression.

“Love is not what is on his mind,” Aurora warned. “All of last, he kept hinting at things a proper lady ought not to understand. Even Lord Sullivan caught his meaning, and you both know how dense he can be.”

Eugenia had missed that last night. Her attention had been too fixed on Mr. Berringer and his distracting nearness. “Did Scarsdale make overtures toward having you?”

“No, but it’s in his eyes. I fear he’s become infatuated. That’s why we woke you. I hoped I had imagined it.”

“I’m sorry to say I was distracted by Mr. Berringer’s conversation last night and heard nothing that gave me alarm.”

“Yes, you did seem more entertained than I was,” Aurora noted. “I had to rely on Lord Sullivan’s tedious conversation about his family to offer a reprieve from Scarsdale.”

“I could ask Wharton to warn him off,” Sylvia offered.

“I’d rather not go that far yet. The man is his friend.”

“And frequently visiting my betrothed here,” Sylvia reminded her. “If you’ve not encouraged Scarsdale, and you don’t use Wharton to keep him at bay, what else can you do to drive him away from your side? You can’t resort to unladylike behavior here. Lord Sullivan won’t always be around to curb any scandalous conversation.”

“I don’t know what I can do, but it must be something, and soon,” Aurora shivered. “Last night, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was waiting to pounce on me. Thank heavens Mr. Berringer offered to see Scarsdale home when the evening came to an end. The look in his eyes as he kissed the back of my hand in farewell haunted my dreams and made sleep impossible.”

Eugenia climbed from her warm bed, pulled on her robe, and then went to her cousin. Aurora sat at the very end, hugging her knees now. Clearly more than a little unnerved. She was the beauty of the family and was no stranger to lustful men devouring her with their eyes. But she really must be frightened if she dreamed of a man she didn’t want. Eugenia embraced her. “We’ll stay together. I won’t let him corner you again. Where you go, I go now, too.”

Aurora hugged her back, then smiled up at her. “Thank you.”

“You’ll have me as well,” Sylvia reminded them.

“But you’re busy with the marchioness so much and…”

“Scarsdale visits at any hour,” Eugenia murmured, rubbing her cousin’s back when she shivered. “He could easily corner her in the morning room alone.”

“A pity you cannot always carry a parasol in the house in case you need to beat him with it,” Sylvia suggested with a frustrated laugh. “Oh—if we had our own servants, she might never be surprised by scoundrels.”

Eugenia nodded slowly. “What is on our agenda for today?”

“A meal with Lizzy, and fittings.”

“Fittings?” Both Eugenia and Aurora said, startled.

“The marchioness insists you both need a new wardrobe. A modiste will come here, and she plans to help with the selection,” Sylvia said with a wince of apology.

The marchioness, Lizzy, had a great many opinions, most of which had only been imposed upon Sylvia until now. But lately, she’d been commenting on the quality and style of Eugenia’s gowns, and Aurora’s, too.

“Apparently, we are not acceptably dressed, cousin,” Eugenia said to Aurora, pulling a face in the hope of making her laugh.

“At least fittings and discussion of fashion will keep all men at arm’s length for today,” Aurora murmured, leaning back against Eugenia.

It was the days after, at the frequent late-night parties to come, where Scarsdale might seek out their cousin again. If only they did have their own servants in the house. A footman wasn’t much of a deterrent for a libertine with sufficient coin to bribe them away on an errand, but they did have their uses. They could fetch one of them, or the marquess even, to put a stop to any importuning going on.

They really did need their own loyal servants again. Eugenia regretted allowing their few former employees to be pensioned off by Wharton upon their move into his home.

She gave Aurora one last squeeze, thinking hard about their options. So many of the decisions they’d made and taken for granted were no longer in their control. She could protest, but she’d lost more battles than she cared to recall since moving here. Was it only a month ago that they’d all moved in? It was starting to feel much longer.

“She means well,” Sylvia promised, appealing to Eugenia not to make a fuss over the new gowns the marchioness wanted her to have. “She wants you both to be seen as the equal of everyone you meet.”

Aurora fiddled with her nightgown. “It is kind of her to worry about us, given her poor health.”

“We’re merely a distraction from the pain,” Eugenia noted, turning to her wash basin and making a sour expression. “Please thank her, but do tell her I couldn’t possibly need another gown.”

Sylvia sighed. “Why must you always be difficult and try to thwart her plans?”

“Because a lively debate means more to her than gracious acceptance. She thinks of her own mortality less when she faces my opposition.”

“You’re evil,” Aurora whispered.

“It does no good to coddle the sick,” Eugenia said. “I cannot sit about patting her hand or wringing mine, hoping for a swift recovery for her. She wants only Sylvia for a confidant, anyway.”

Spending funds on them was shamefully wasteful, but the marchioness would have her way in the end, no doubt. Appearing to refuse at first made Eugenia feel better, though, and gave the marchioness something of a challenge.

After throwing water on her face and patting her skin dry, she moved to the mirror. Her dark hair was in disarray now, but her skin was flawless. And although her eyes felt sandy and dry, she looked well enough to be seen.

When she turned back to her cousins, she found that Aurora had crawled up the bed to lie her head upon her pillows. It had not been uncommon for them to share their beds before coming to live here, but not since. Aurora yawned widely and shut her eyes. Eugenia pulled a sheet over Aurora’s shoulders and heard a mumbled thanks before her cousin became still.

She and Sylvia moved away to sit by the fire. “She must be truly worried.”

Sylvia nodded. “I really would like to have a word with Wharton about Scarsdale’s attentions to our cousin, but she made me promise not to. I don’t want to break my word to her.”

“She refused you, but I made no such promise,” Eugenia said. “If the need arises, I’ll tell him to control his friend.”

“Thank you.” Sylvia breathed a sigh of relief. “This is all so very strange still, isn’t it? Not really being our home. We cannot order the servants not to admit a man we don’t entirely trust.”

“It is.” Sylvia was helping the marchioness run the household because she was too weak to do it alone. Aurora and Eugenia had very little to do besides arranging flowers occasionally.

“I do miss living in Albemarle Street. Our independence was a casualty of accepting Wharton’s proposal. I miss the home we shared, but not the creaking floorboards there.”

Eugenia chuckled. “I actually miss that. I could always tell which one of you was moving through the house. Now, I don’t hear anything, and you constantly catch me by surprise while I’m sleeping.”

“You did seem very deeply asleep. Were you dreaming?”

“Not last night. Not for a while, actually.” She glanced at Sylvia. “I can guess what and who you probably dreamed of.”

“Falling flat on my face in front of Princess Caroline.” Sylvia sighed. “Things are so complicated now, aren’t they?”

They were indeed. But Sylvia was in love and loved in return, and that was good. As for Aurora’s situation, Eugenia would watch and act if need be. “Would you change who you love?”

“No.” Sylvia sighed. “If I didn’t love him, I don’t know that I would have loved anyone.”

“Not even Mr. Berringer?” Eugenia teased in a whisper. For a while, Eugenia had suspected a partiality on Berringer’s part toward Sylvia. But that had vanished the moment the engagement was announced. He did not call upon them anymore, but he did call on Wharton, as many gentlemen and lords of the ton appeared to do on a regular basis.

“I never felt that way about him, although you tease that I did. I wish him well, though. He’s a fine man and deserves the best life has to offer.”

Eugenia chewed on her lip a moment. “So, you wouldn’t mind if some other woman snatches him up?”

“Of course, I would not. As long as it is what he wants, too. I could not bear the idea of any of our male acquaintances, or our former clients, forced to marry someone they did not love.”

“But that’s the way of things in society.”

“Not for everyone. Not for us.” Sylvia looked up at Eugenia. “Promise me you’ll only marry for love.”

Eugenia swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “Only love could ever compel me.”

Sylvia sighed. “I think it will be a long time before I am a wife.”

“Do you regret your promise to delay the wedding until the marchioness heals, to give her something to live for?”

“Sometimes. She’s so very weak. I hoped she might improve quicker than this.”

Eugenia caught her hand. Sylvia had come to love the marchioness as if she was her own mother. If she died, Sylvia would grieve most heartily. But the marchioness was strong-willed. Despite the frequent setbacks, Eugenia couldn’t imagine them losing Lizzy now. “If she’s survived this much, I think you can count on her planning your wedding—as she’s threatened to do.”

“I hope so,” Sylvia whispered. “The thought of not having her support is terrifying. She tells me that my first ball as marchioness will most likely be attended by the Prince Regent himself.”

“How ghastly.” Eugenia shuddered. The Prince Regent was known to terrify most experienced hostesses. Eugenia nudged her cousin. “You’d better go. I’m sure there are a dozen things you’re meant to do for the marchioness today.”

“Yes, there are, unfortunately.” She sighed. “I miss the carefree days we had at the academy.”

“I miss them more.” Eugenia winked. The academy, for all its limited success, had been their project. Their means of earning an income meant for their old age. It hadn’t exactly been carefree for Eugenia. She’d had a great many tasks to do every day, but she’d enjoyed the challenge. They had lost any hope of busyness the day Sylvia had convinced them all to move here.

Sylvia disappeared, and Eugenia turned toward the bed. Aurora was sleeping soundly now. It would be Aurora who married next, if Eugenia had her way. Eugenia was determined that her darling younger cousin marry a man worthy of her—and it would not be the man intent on seducing her for the fun of it.

Eugenia dressed herself in a morning gown, styled her hair herself, and then slipped out of her chamber, leaving Aurora to sleep in her bed.

At this hour, the atmosphere of the house was subdued, and no visitors were hopefully expected for some hours yet. Maids and footmen trotted in and out of bedchambers, remaking beds, emptying chamber pots, resetting fires for the evening.

She informed the upper maid not to disturb her chamber, since her cousin was sleeping there, and then her ear caught a criticism leveled at Mr. Bloom—the new footman.

“You’ve got to work faster,” a shrill upstairs maid complained to him. “No, for heaven’s sake. Not that way around.”

Eugenia drew closer and watched as the maid gave the new man a dressing down in front of the other giggling maids. Mr. Bloom was younger than most servants in the house and was taking the criticism to heart, she could see. His face was growing quite pink from embarrassment—poor fellow.

She cleared her throat. “Do keep your voice down. My cousin is sleeping still.”

“Beg pardon, Miss Hillcrest. I’m sorry you had to hear that,” the maid said, but she scowled at Mr. Bloom, who apologized profusely, though he’d not been making any noise.

Eugenia regarded the servants and noticed the maids stepping away from Mr. Bloom to gather near the more experienced maid.

Clearly, Mr. Bloom was on the outs with them all. Perhaps she’d found the one man in the household who might serve their needs and not tattle to the others, if given the right incentive. “Mr. Bloom, would you be so kind as to have tea brought to the parlor downstairs for me?”

“I can do that for you,” the upstairs maid offered.

“No. Mr. Bloom is the one I want,” Eugenia said, growing annoyed with the bossy maid now for the suggestion.

“Right away, Miss Hillcrest,” he said as he came forward. “Will you want sandwiches, too?”

“Yes, in half an hour, I should think.” She thought a moment. “If you could also supply me with today’s news sheet to read as well, I’d be most appreciative.”

He nodded. “Any particular one?”

“The Times will do for a start.” Wharton read The Times each day. She’d asked for her own copy, but the marquess had failed to arrange it yet.

“I’ll do my best.” The fellow rushed off to do her bidding, and all the maids sighed with apparent relief.

Eugenia narrowed her eyes on the head maid as she snorted. “What seems to be the problem?”

“The housekeeper likes things a certain way, and, well, he’s so slow. I’ve had to hurry him along all morning. He’s set me back, and I’ll be scolded for his mistakes.”

“Hmm. Well, he’s new to the house, and young. I’m sure he’ll learn as he goes.”

“If he lasts that long,” the head maid whispered under her breath, but Eugenia heard her, and the maids as they snickered.

Eugenia pursed her lips. “Get back to your duties, all of you.”

Nobody became good at anything overnight. Perhaps she could appropriate Mr. Bloom’s services. She pasted a smile on her face and continued downstairs.

Mr. Bloom was waiting in the chilly parlor, paper in hand. “Lord Wharton asked me to say that he’d like it back when you’re done with it.”

“Well, then,” she murmured. “You’d better find yourself a chair.”

“Beg pardon, Miss Hillcrest. Did I understand that you want me to wait here with you?”

“Indeed, I think you must. I’m not going to spend every morning returning the paper to Lord Wharton when I’m done reading it.”

She perched on a chair positioned at the middle of the table and spread the large paper out. “Did you arrange my tea to be delivered here?”

“Yes, miss.”

“Very good.” She looked across the room at the fire. “I’ve a mind to spend the day here with my cousin, instead of the larger drawing room. Would you stir up the fire, please?”

Mr. Bloom sprang to life, rushing about as if she was in danger of freezing at any moment. “Slowly does it, Mr. Bloom. A good fire cannot be rushed.”

“Beg pardon, miss, but they say I’m too slow at my duties.”

Eugenia regarded him evenly. “You’ll hear no complaints from me about your service, and I’ll be sure to pass that along to any in the house who might disparage your attention to detail.”

Mr. Bloom grinned. A little encouragement went a long way toward ensuring the future loyalty of any servant. When he was done with her fire, she sent him back upstairs to wait outside her door for when Aurora woke again, so he could escort her here. There would be no chance of Scarsdale surprising Aurora today if she had a loyal servant by her side at all times.