Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Lucy lay awake for what seemed like hours, unable to sleep, her body yearning in a way it hadn’t for over a year. She’d somehow let herself forget how Reggie could bring her to life, creating that passion that wrapped around them as if only the two of them existed, as if they breathed as one.
No, she hadn’t forgotten—grief had initially forced those memories into a box, and then anger and betrayal had locked the latch.
But the box had been unlocked upon seeing him again, and his kiss had caused all those suppressed emotions to come surging up.
She was feeling overwhelmed and lost, her thoughts battling each other.
Should she pretend the last year had never happened, fall back into his bed and let his lovemaking be her only solace?
But that would mean ignoring her grief for their darling Anna.
How could two such different parts of her life ever be joined together?
With a groan, she rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. She would never fall asleep with such whirling thoughts. She had to remember the safe life she’d built and find a way the next day to show Reggie how important her work was to her.
Would he be distracted from his seduction? Could she resist him? Did she want to risk having a child again—or discovering that her body was no longer capable of such a gift?
Her pillow was wet with tears before a restless sleep claimed her.
Lucy was charmed by the small public garden claimed by the local branch of the Female Aid Society. It was not even mid-morning, but the summer sun was shining through the leaves, dappling the grass and banishing the dew.
She looked up at Reggie to see if he noticed, and he gave her an encouraging smile.
“Just tell me what needs to be done,” he said.
She found herself smiling back, before trying to appear more serious. “I’ll need to offer my letter of introduction, but I’m sure they’ll find something for us to do.”
Soon, Lucy was surrounded by a half-dozen women, all pleased to meet her and graciously thanking her for volunteering.
Mrs. Maxwell, their leader, an elderly woman who still moved with spry grace, squinted through her spectacles at Reggie waiting patiently nearby. “And what business have you here, sir?”
He took a step closer and bowed. “Captain Reginald Lawton, at your service, ma’am.”
Mrs. Maxwell looked him up and down, and his red uniform and shiny buttons caught the sunlight. Then she glanced at Lucy. “Is he yours?”
She smiled. “He is, ma’am.”
“And he wants to help,” Mrs. Maxwell continued dubiously, as if Reggie couldn’t speak for himself.
“He does,” Reggie answered.
Lucy bit her lip and tried not to laugh. When was the last time she’d wanted to laugh out loud? She’d been so focused on swimming up from the depths of her grief, and then simply staying too busy to think, none of which allowed thoughts of amusement.
Mrs. Maxwell sniffed her doubt, but said, “I believe you’ll find several of my footmen setting up the display booth for our wares. You may help there.”
Lucy gave a sharp inhale. Many gentlemen would take umbrage at being asked to assist the servants.
But Reggie gave the woman a brisk salute. “Yes, ma’am.” And then he winked at Lucy before turning with military precision and heading to the booth construction.
Lucy stared after him dubiously, then jumped when Mrs. Maxwell elbowed her.
“A good man there,” the old woman said.
Lucy could only nod, even as a warm feeling moved through her.
While she helped unbox all the craft items and baked goods that would be sold to benefit the Society, she found herself glancing Reggie’s way too frequently.
He wielded a hammer as they constructed the wood frame, provided support when others needed it, then squatted low when they were all lifting the main display table.
She was not the only one looking. The other ladies of her group watched him with obvious surprise.
Mrs. Cheselden leaned toward Lucy across the cookie platter and said, “My, what a generous man your husband is, Mrs. Lawton. None of our husbands would make time for such an event in their busy days.”
Lucy smiled, not knowing what to say. She could not help looking at Reggie, who was gesturing to the far corner of the booth, where they were now attaching a protective awning.
His tall cap was gone, and perspiration dotted his forehead.
He could have looked impatient or bored, but instead he was talking and laughing and showing the servants that they were fellow men rather than beneath him.
She glanced back at the other women, who were watching the same tableau with various expressions of astonishment, amusement, and the occasional hint of wistful envy.
Something inside Lucy seemed to invert itself as new thoughts took hold.
Perhaps the women in her charity circles didn’t choose distant marriages deliberately, but because they were being ignored, because their husbands didn’t care about their lives or their interests.
It was easier to protect one’s heart by pretending that indifference didn’t matter.
Reggie had always been interested in her life, every moment of the day. Nothing was too inconsequential to him if it was important to her. She felt a surge of warmth and knew she might very well be blushing with pleasure.
And then she realized he was never going to accept her distancing herself from their marriage.
What was she going to do?
Reggie felt a deep sense of satisfaction as he stood back with the men and watched the ladies begin to display the wares they’d generously baked and crafted, all to benefit women in need.
The sign he’d helped hang, THE FEMALE AID SOCIETY, made him so proud of the work Lucy had done while he’d been gone.
When the festival opened for the day, and Lucy was busy in the Society booth, he strolled through the park, watching children compete in a hoop-rolling contest. Men and women walked arm-in-arm through the various booths set up to aid societies benefitting children or unwed mothers or unemployed factory workers.
He heard the melodies of a small brass band, drums and fifes and trumpets.
But he didn’t stray too far from his wife.
Leaning against a tree, he folded his arms over his chest and watched her smile at each customer, describing the various treats to purchase, bringing in other women when questions were asked about the knitted mittens or the embroidered handkerchiefs.
The love he felt for her was bittersweet, always intertwined with the worry and guilt he’d experienced while in India.
Now there was a growing apprehension that she couldn’t overcome her grief and disappointment in him.
When Lucy was at the corner of the booth talking to one of the other Aid Society ladies, a young child came running toward her with a hoop, not looking where she was going. Reggie started forward, but too late, for the little girl crashed right into Lucy, who staggered but did not fall.
The little girl landed in a heap and started to cry.
He waited for Lucy to comfort her, but she seemed frozen. The expression on her pale face became distant, haunted, as she stared down at the little girl. Reggie’s own sad emotions surged with sympathy. The other woman bent down and helped the child up, encouraging her to apologize.
“Sorry, ma’am,” came the high voice, as the girl wiped away tears.
Lucy’s expression softened, eyes glistening. “Of course, sweetheart, no damage done. Have fun with your game.”
And with a grin, the girl ran off, her braids flying behind her. Lucy watched her go, her smile fading, that haunted look bringing shadows beneath her eyes, the shadows that had lingered in his mind whenever he thought of his wife this last year.
Reggie approached her, wondering how he could bring her comfort in this public place, but the other ladies used the girl’s interruption to tell Lucy about the local children’s charity.
Lucy listened respectfully, but the glistening didn’t disappear from her eyes. At one point she turned her head, and he saw her dab her gloved finger to the corner of her eye.
No wonder she stayed away from their friends and family, who were so happily enmeshed in their growing broods of children. He wanted to gather her in his arms, to somehow take away their shared pain, to make them the happily married couple they used to be.
He didn’t know what expression he wore, but when Lucy noticed him nearby, she seemed to search his face, before giving a nod and a tired smile, as if in acknowledgment.
The warmth of encouragement spread through his chest.
That night, Reggie entered the Assembly rooms at the Old Ship Hotel overlooking Brighton Beach with two women on his arms. The ballroom itself was a long rectangular room with tall windows, and a balcony where a string quartet serenaded the guests.
He knew many of the men here would be asking where the card room was, but he didn’t intend to leave Lucy’s side.
Though Reggie had always spent time with his friends, it certainly wasn’t to escape from his duties to his wife.
Until tragedy had upended them, marriage was something he’d enjoyed from morning to night.
After making their way through the entry, where the local Society women—including two they’d met that morning—greeted each guest, Reggie escorted Lucy and Madeleine to the tea room for a quick refreshment.
He saw the usual lemonade and tea—nothing stronger for fear that the men would be overcome by drunkenness—along with those dry little cakes that seemed to wedge themselves into every Assembly he’d ever attended.
When they returned to the small ballroom, he felt the change in Madeleine’s posture almost immediately. She might even have given a little gasp. When he looked down at her, she was staring across the room at a man who’d just entered. The glass of lemonade quivered in her hand.