The House of Broken Hearts, Judy Colella [electronic reader txt] 📗

for that “loose” woman, but for her, Giselle. Unless there was someone else, of course, but she knew that was a silly notion. They had quite plainly been referring to her.

But that meant Giles also had an interest in her. She’d never thought of him as a possible suitor, although now, in light of what she’d been hearing, she began remembering his glances, the way he’d watch her with – with that? Tenderness? Appreciation? Most assuredly not love! Oh, no, never that! She told herself stoutly. Still, what if it was? Could she ever love him back?

To her complete shock, no denial of the possibility was forthcoming. Shaken, she got up, paced a bit, then went back to bed. She was frankly exhausted, and decided to stop trying to figure it all out in one night. Perhaps she could ask Mrs. Trellain about it over tea tomorrow. Or perhaps it was time for her to start making her own decisions and drawing her own conclusions. Perhaps.

~*~*~*~

The crack of a whip and cry of a coachman, followed by the noisy departure of a carriage down the cobbled drive was what finally woke Giselle. She’d been so exhausted, even the sunlight streaming through the tall windows hadn’t disturbed her slumber. She sat up slowly, the filmy shrouds of sleep melting less rapidly than usual; only after several moments of growing awareness did she remember what had occurred the night before. Her heavy lids snapped open then, and she threw back the covers. Had the carriage been Julian and Miss duBois leaving Grey House as ordered?

She went to the window but the vehicle was no longer within range of sight. What she could see was that the sun was much higher than it should be – how late had she slept? The grandfather clock in the corner with its peaceful, implacable tick-tock, tick-tock, gently informed her that she had, in fact, slept a good two hours longer than was her habit. Why had no one come in to wake her?

She went to the wash basin and splashed cold water on her face, then quickly dressed, leaving her hair for last – normally, Mrs. Trellain would come in and without a word, pick up Giselle’s comb and brush; the girl would sit obediently as the woman did her hair, pinning it up neatly at the last. Today, however, Mrs. Trellain was oddly absent, so she took care of it herself. It was only as she was preparing to leave the room that she noticed the tray that had been placed on the trunk at the foot of her bed. On it were some covered plates, a small teapot, a cup, silver service, an embroidered napkin, a silver creamer and bowl of sugar cubes. She lifted one of the covers and found two lovely blueberry scones. The other plate held thin slices of cold goose and several pats of fresh butter.

How long ago had this been brought, she wondered, putting a hand on the teapot. It was still warm, but far from hot, indicating the things had been sitting there for a while. Hungry, she picked up a scone and nibbled on it, poured out the tepid tea and took a sip, then covered everything again and went out.

The house was unusually quiet. The children were away, but that didn’t explain the lack of servants, cold hearths in all the rooms she checked, and the very conspicuous absence of both Mrs. Trellain and the butler. She wouldn’t have wondered at Giles Lanford being gone, since he wasn’t supposed to be back until the following week, had she not heard him in the study the night before.

Giselle frowned and went into the library – also unoccupied – where she sat down behind the reading table to think. Had she dreamed everything? The argument between Julian and Giles, the carriage rumbling away down the drive? And what day was this? She put a hand to her head, feeling somewhat faint. What on earth was going on?

“Are you well, Miss Moreaux?”

Giselle gasped, terribly startled, and stared up at Giles whose entrance had been completely silent. “I – I – no, yes. Yes! I’m fine, Mr. Lanford. I do apologize for jumping like that! It’s just that I didn’t sleep well last night and seemed to have over-slept this morning. But…the house is so quiet. Where is everyone? And – when did you get back? I thought you’d be away for at least a week, sir.”

He pulled out the chair opposite and sat. “I, um, had some business to attend to here. A bit of an unexpected situation, I suppose you could say. It’s been resolved, however, and I may return to my brother William’s home before the end of the day. You met him last month, I believe, yes?”

“Briefly, sir, with Mrs. Trellain when we were in town. He’s younger than Julian, is he?”

“By one year, yes. But unlike Julian, he’d made something useful of himself.” Giles looked away, his expression unpleasant. A moment later, he pulled himself away from the upsetting thoughts and faced Giselle once more, this time with a smile. “So! Mrs. Trellain has hauled the servants off to town with her to purchase new cleaning supplies or some such thing. They’ll all be back by this afternoon, beating the carpets and scrubbing the walls, I expect.”

“I shall help them, then.”

“Why? You aren’t one of the servants, Miss Moreaux. I rather think you should be served, rather than…” He stopped, a surprising blush rising in his handsome face. He stood abruptly. “So sorry – I was speaking out of turn.” Not waiting for a reply, he went swiftly out.

“Good heavens!” she exclaimed softly. “Whatever was that about?” Well, at least she now knew why no one was around, and everything Mr. Lanford had said confirmed that she hadn’t dreamed the argument. His final behavior before leaving the room had also left little doubt that she hadn’t misunderstood the implications of his feelings for her. And that made her blush, too.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The next few days were a whirlwind of activity. Despite Giles’ admonitions, Giselle threw herself into the tasks Mrs. Trellain had assigned to get the house in order for the coming spring and summer seasons. While this was a regular, annual event, this time she insisted on a bit more care in dealing with the smaller details, such as the polishing of wall sconces, knick-knacks, the gilded picture and mirror frames, with special attention paid to the cleaning of every curtain and drape in the house. The ones in the Grand Parlour, which was where the Lanfords generally held their occasional parties, were replaced altogether with georgous moire satin drapes of dark saffron, held back by pale grey silk chords to display delicately-wrought lace of the palest green. The walls, too, were given a fresh coat of light lemon-yellow paint, the mouldings painted the same silvery hue as the tie-backs on the drapes. The old brass wall-sconces were replaced with brightly-polished silver ones, and the magnificent crystal chandelier taken down, disassembled, every crystal cleaned to a sparkle, then put back together and re-hung. The dark Persian carpet was carefully beaten clean and rolled up for storage, the wood floors beneath scrubbed and given several new layers of varnish and polished to a lovely, warm glow. Once this was done, the room itself was closed off and locked, not to be used or in any way disturbed until Mr. Lanford opened it for guests.

All this arduous work had effectively taken Giselle’s mind off the turmoil in her heart, at least during the day. But sometimes, when she wasn’t so exhausted that she would fall immediately to sleep, she would acknowledge the ache, the sorrow regarding both Julian and Giles, not really knowing which one was responsible for the most pain. Something within her was breaking, but for the sake of the children, she pushed away the angst. They would be home again all too soon, and didn’t need to see her languishing.

Giles had returned the next week as promised, but even though he would wander through the house to express appreciation here and there for the work being done, he never stayed indoors for very long. His greetings to Giselle were not exactly cold, but certainly less encouraging than they’d been in the past. She wondered sometimes if he even had the slightest inkling how much this treatment was hurting her.

Then, about four day before the boys were to be brought home by their uncle, and two before Jocelyn was due to return, Giselle’s world was once again torn apart. She had been gathering flowers in one of the side gardens, planning on distributing them in the bedrooms, and as she straightened from plucking some early hyacinths, felt a hand on her back. She gasped and turned.

It was Julian. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked absolutely terrible. But before she could express her concern, he took her by the shoulders and planted a firm, deep kiss on her mouth. Her immediately instinct was to pull away, but he held her too tightly for her struggles to have any effect, and suddenly she found herself melting into him. She’d never been kissed like this before and didn’t know what to do, but she couldn’t deny the strange and wonderful sensations sparking and sizzling throughout her body. She could barely breathe, but didn’t care; she realized she was kissing him back, and didn’t care about that either.

But then he stopped, swallowed hard, his eyes smoldering into hers. “My God, I’ve wanted to do that since the moment you first stepped out of your carriage! I – oh, come away with me, Giselle! I promise to make you the happiest woman on earth, to shower you with everything you could possibly need or want!”

Still trying to catch her breath, she searched his eyes, shocked by what had occurred, but thrilled by the lingering sensations. A moment later, common sense returned and she shook her head. “How, Julian? How can you do those things?” As soon as she said it, she realized she’d called him by his first name and blushed.

His tender smile became a grin as he seemed to realize it, too. “Does it matter? There is always a way. I may not have my brother’s wealth, but I do have…abilities with which to acquire my own. But all that does matter, my dear, sweet Giselle, is that I need you. I want you. Please don’t deny me!”

How tempting! How almost irresistible, she admitted. But she’d listened to his words carefully, waiting for the one that would immediately tip the scales in his favor, and it hadn’t been spoken. “You need me, Julian?”

“Yes, yes! More than anything or anyone else I’ve ever known!”

“You say you want me, too. What does that mean?”

Now his smile became something she didn’t quite understand. “It means you would