The Way We Were (Sons of Scandal #7)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Where is he?

Though the train ride from London had been stuffy and hot, and the hansom cab had left her two blocks away from regimental headquarters under a glaring sun, Lucy Lawton was determined to find her husband, Captain Reginald Lawton.

Putting up her parasol, clutching her portmanteau, she began to walk.

It might have been a mistake leaving her maid in London, she admitted to herself, but it was only going to be overnight.

She’d thought Reggie was returning to London from India in two weeks, but she had it on good authority—in fact every sympathetic friend she had—that he’d arrived in Brighton early.

And he hadn’t contacted her.

Lucy swallowed down her anger and kept marching.

The sun had a beachside shimmer that reminded her of the seaside holidays of her youth, but that seemed a long time ago.

She was a mature woman emerging back into the world after a year of mourning.

Her youth was just a nostalgic memory compared to the grief that had made her feel old before her time.

And then suddenly she saw her husband, Reggie, picking him easily out of a crowd, his dark curly hair difficult to hide even beneath his tall black military cap.

Lucy came to stop so suddenly that someone jostled her elbow trying to move past her. She barely noticed.

Reggie wore his red uniform with the gold epaulettes at the shoulders, and to her surprise, he set her heart racing just as he had the day she’d met him at her best friend Lady Elizabeth Cabot’s wedding five years ago.

She didn’t like having this reaction, not after they’d been apart for a year.

She thought when she saw him again she’d feel like so many other couples she knew, married but distant, living separate lives.

After all, many of her friends made it look easy. They hadn’t married for love, but family duty or security. Lucy had been far more foolish, marrying for a sudden passion she might have mistaken for love. That’s what she was beginning to tell herself every day since Reggie had abandoned her.

She reined in her harsh thoughts. He’d been ordered to India at the worst possible moment of their lives, and had done his duty, leaving her because his commanding officer had said no one else could do the complicated negotiation between the British army and the East India Company, which controlled much of the country.

She’d thought her life might be easier with him gone, but it hadn’t been until she learned to put him out of her mind and get on with each day, one hour at a time.

His letters hadn’t helped, so very dry and matter-of-fact, nothing like the romantic man he’d been when courting her. She looked at his face in the near distance and almost let herself feel the dreamy sensation that his regard, his focus, his whispers of love, used to instill in her.

And then suddenly Reggie reached out his arm, and a lovely young woman put her hand delicately on his sleeve.

Lucy stiffened as every rumor she’d heard seemed confirmed.

When Reggie smiled down at the woman, something inside Lucy twisted with anger and humiliation.

Lady Dundas had been telling the truth about Reggie being seen with an attractive young woman.

Lucy’s friends had all looked at her with such pity, even as she insisted it couldn’t be true. He would never shame her like that.

But here he was, with a strange woman. She’d always thought him an honorable man, but now she had to question even that. The grief she’d been so good at hiding threatened to swamp her again, but she held her ground. She’d survived too much to let this overtake the wall of her emotional control.

“Captain Lawton, that woman is staring at us. Do you know who she is?”

Startled, Reggie looked up from Madeleine Fournier and saw his wife standing stock still, her fair brows lowered over her blazing green eyes, a parasol dangling upside down from her hand.

He’d last seen Lucy robed in black, but now she wore a blue day dress with a line of buttons from the lace of her high-necked bodice all the way to her hemline.

A bonnet hid her blond hair, but for some drooping curls at her temples.

He thought she looked just as beautiful as the day they’d met.

He inhaled deeply, the loneliness of the last year fading away at the sight of her. “My wife,” he murmured, so overcome with tenderness and longing that he had to swallow.

“She doesn’t look very happy,” Madeleine said, her hand dropping away from his arm.

And then he really looked at Lucy’s expression. “I will make her happy again.”

It was what had sustained him throughout their long separation. Every day apart made him more and more convinced that he would do anything to make her happy again.

He hadn’t been able to capture his feelings in letters, hadn’t wanted to hurt her any more than she was already hurting. Guilt threatened to surface again, but he was so relieved to see her that glad thoughts pushed away the sad.

A mask of politeness seemed to settle on Lucy’s face as she walked toward him.

She snapped the parasol back up as if the shade would shield her from her emotions.

But he could always read the thoughts she tried to hide.

She was full of anger and disappointment, and he realized how it might look to her, him accompanying a strange woman.

But he would explain, and she would understand. They would find a way back to the happy marriage they’d once had.

He smiled at her as she approached. “Lucy,” he murmured, reaching for her gloved hand before bending over and bringing it to his lips.

She momentarily resisted, but he ignored it.

When he straightened, he said, “Lucy, may I present Miss Madeleine Fournier, daughter of my late commander. Miss Fournier, my wife, Mrs. Lawton. Lucy, this is Miss Selwyn, Miss Fournier’s maid.”

Lucy felt her veil of anger momentarily lift, and she was surprised that she hadn’t seen the second woman standing a few steps behind, spectacles perched on her nose, her clothing neat but unobtrusive.

Then Lucy’s gaze returned to Miss Fournier, who had dark brown hair and the classically beautiful profile of a cameo. Lucy wasn’t sure what to say, how to ask…everything she wanted to ask.

She nodded politely to both women, but spoke to her husband. “I came from London as soon as I heard you’d landed, Captain.”

His brow arched, probably at her use of his formal title, but what had he expected? After a year apart, they were greeting each other in front of total strangers—well, strangers to her.

Then he winced, before hiding his true expression behind a dimpled smile.

Was he remembering he hadn’t told her that he was coming to Brighton?

That he’d lied to her? She wondered what he was thinking, if he was even capable of guilt anymore.

It was hard to believe the man she thought she knew would so openly flaunt a mistress, which is what her friends had related to her in scandalized whispers.

“I’m glad you came, Lucy,” he said.

But was he? She simply nodded, and the four of them stood there awkwardly on a public pavement while holiday travelers headed past them toward the Royal Pier.

“We have so much to discuss,” Reggie continued. “May I escort you both to the hotel?”

They were staying at the same hotel? Lucy thought, then tried to stop her runaway conclusions. But she only said, “That would be fine.”

Reggie put out his arm, and she reluctantly put her hand there. He did not do the same for Miss Fournier, who fell into step behind them, her maid beside her.

Lucy tried to remember what it had been like to be seen on Reggie’s arm, her growing excitement that he had felt the same longing as she did.

She hadn’t been able to keep her gaze off of him, had basked in the desire that smoldered in his eyes.

It seemed like a lifetime ago. She’d known what she wanted then.

Now? Confusion, sadness, and anger jockeyed for positions of prominence within her.

How she wished for simpler times, for the happy marriage they’d once known.

But everything had changed, and they could never go back in time to fix it all.

The Royal Albion Hotel was a few streets away, overlooking the English Channel and the pier. When they arrived, Lucy shaded her eyes from the sun and looked up at the four-storied white building with its large columns. “Are you staying here or at the barracks, Captain?”

“Here,” Reggie said. “I’ll be happy to explain it all to you.”

And Miss Fournier must be staying there, too. Lucy glanced over her shoulder at the woman, who gave her a smile that seemed friendly enough.

They entered beneath the portico and into the elegant lobby, with its wood-paneled walls and profusion of fresh flowers on every table. Reggie escorted Lucy to the main desk.

“Captain Lawton,” said the young desk clerk politely. “What may we do for you?”

“Mr. Bakewell, may I introduce my wife, Mrs. Lawton. I’d like a larger suite of rooms, since she has come down from London to join me.”

It was what Lucy wanted, distance between them, but a part of her was annoyed. Or maybe she was annoyed about everything. It was a better emotion to feel than other more painful ones.

Mr. Bakewell frowned and paged through the ledger spread before him. “We do have one remaining suite with two bedrooms joined by a sitting room. Will that do?”

Reggie looked at Lucy, and she gave a brief nod.

“I can have your things moved while you’re at dinner, Captain,” the clerk continued.

“That would be fine.” Reggie turned to Miss Fournier. “Would you like to join us?”

“Oh no, Captain, I’m far too tired after our walk,” she said, meeting the gaze of her maid, who nodded her agreement.

“I’ll have a tray sent to my room. I’m sure you two have much to catch up on after so long apart.

” She smiled at Lucy. “Have a good evening, Mrs. Lawton. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

Lucy blinked. She couldn’t decide if Miss Fournier was brazen, confident, or foolish.

When Miss Fournier and her maid had gone, Reggie turned back to Lucy. “Shall we dine?”

When he gestured toward a door at the far end of the lobby, she preceded him into the hotel restaurant.

There were windows all along one wall with a view of the sea, and scattered ferns and palms made one feel surrounded by a tropical paradise.

Lucy should have enjoyed it, but any sense of calm she’d felt in the last few months had deserted her.

Once at a table, a waiter brought them menus, and Lucy was grateful to have something to focus on rather than Reggie’s intent blue eyes. He didn’t ask her any questions, and she tried to think calming thoughts until they’d ordered their meals.

When their menus had been removed and wine poured, Reggie lifted his glass in a toast. “To being reunited,” he said, smiling.

Conscious of not wanting to create a scene, she touched her glass to his but said nothing. She looked out the window at the sea, a hazy blue with the sun beginning to fall westward. With a sigh, she said, “I don’t know where to begin.”

“I know where. I am so glad to see you and so touched that you came to greet me.”

Lucy could have gaped at him, but instead she spoke through gritted teeth. “Touched that I came to greet you? You didn’t tell me you were here. You lied to me.”

He set down his glass as his smile faded. “I didn’t intend to lie. Surely you know that.”

“Do I?” she countered. “Friends who pitied me told me you were here, wondering why I wasn’t.”

“I have duties with my regiment every day. I wouldn’t be free to be with you. I thought it better I came to our London home.”

“And did Miss Fournier agree?” Lucy asked, trying to mask her sarcasm and failing.

His eyes widened.

Lucy took a deep breath, then glanced around. The couple closest to them gave them a curious look. “I don’t wish to discuss it here,” she said quietly.

Reggie’s gaze shifted as he, too, seemed to remember they were in a public place. “Of course. Then what should we discuss?”

“How was your voyage?” she asked, as the waiter brought them the first course, a plate of oyster patties to share and bowls of carrot soup.

After the waiter retreated, Reggie said, “It was thankfully uneventful. I read, wrote letters that I posted to you when I could, journeyed over forty days by steamship and train—and I try to forget the overland journey through the desert from Suez to Cairo. They’ve begun negotiations to build a canal, which will make travel so much easier.

” After taking a few spoonsful of soup, he asked, “What have you been doing since your last letter?”

She proceeded to tell him about the Female Aid Society, the charity that consumed her time, helping impoverished women learn new skills to support themselves.

As they ate another course, he asked about her brothers, and she asked about visiting his family in Southampton, each topic feeling more awkward than the last.

He looked at her as if she should be grateful for his consideration, as if he hadn’t created a scandal by being seen with a single young woman and lying to Lucy about it.

The pressure to demand real answers was building up inside, and she was worried it would spill out in public and never be controlled again.