Page 46 of The Quiet Wife (Stately Scandals #2)

London – Kensington

Word spread rapidly about Jemie’s work in the Prince’s Gate dining room with his apparent bold and wild designs catching the imagination.

In fact, they had people calling at all hours to see if they might be permitted to catch a glimpse of the artist at work.

Frances had initially baulked at this, but Jemie thought it wonderful and welcomed them with open arms so reluctantly, she agreed.

“Do you know what I found yesterday?” Frances confided in Lizzie and Edith over tea at the Queen’s Gate house.

“Do tell,” Edith said with no small amount of relish, always one to enjoy a spot of gossip.

“Miss Thackeray. You know Miss Thackeray?”

Lizzie frowned as she thought. “Hyde Park Gate?”

“The very one. She came up to the house with her walking companion, bold as you like, and asked to see Jemie and the paintings. The footman called on Jemie, so of course he let her in. Apparently, they knew each other of old and when I went to the dining room to welcome her, I found them waltzing around the room. It would seem they have Paris in common . Whatever that might mean.”

Edith’s eyes widened. “It’s a little… bold for him to be receiving visitors in your home, is it not?”

Frances sighed. “It is, but…” she shrugged. “That’s Jemie all over. He’s American. They are, I’m discovering, quite different.”

They laughed at that. It was true, Jemie was different, and he had settled himself into the Prince’s Gate house.

Although he was working, it was as though he’d taken ownership.

He stayed there. Nay, lived there. More staff had moved over, and gradually, the family were all gravitating to the house simply because that was where Jemie was.

Even Aunt Agatha and Miss Woodgrove had announced their imminent arrival for the betrothal party and suggested that they might like to stay at the Prince’s Gate house.

There were plenty of rooms that could be used as a dining room whilst Jemie painted what she now considered the porcelain room, and without Frederick’s oppressive presence, the entire family and household were flourishing in his absence.

***

The only good thing about the betrothal party for Jemie and Lizzie that Frances could see was the fact that her husband could not make it back from Liverpool to join in the celebrations as he had apparently been detained on urgent business.

He’d been away from London for an age, and she was becoming more than a little concerned that all the changes made in his absence, all the people in the house, might not be to his liking.

She hated to say it, but she was also beginning to wonder if the dining room Jemie was working on might not be to his liking either.

She knew her husband had recently displayed a fondness for the garish, but the room was…

unlike anything she’d ever seen. She rather admired it, and Jemie assured her it would be the height of style and fashion, but she was increasingly worried Frederick might not agree.

There had been something of a frenetic energy to Jemie’s work lately. It worried her.

Added to that, changing the original plan for the betrothal party, and moving it from the Queen’s Gate house to the Prince’s Gate house, weighed heavy on her mind.

Frances knew without a shadow of a doubt that Frederick would not approve of that plan but hoped that he simply had so little interest in the proceedings that word wouldn’t reach him in Liverpool and by the time he found out, he’d be past caring.

Consequently, when the day of the celebration arrived, it was with significant trepidation that Frances welcomed guests into the new house and watched Jemie squire her sister about the rooms as they pointed out the artwork around the house, in the hallway, and behaved as though the house was theirs as they welcomed their guests.

It gave more than a twinge of envy to see them so close.

“Chin up,” a low voice said at her elbow. She turned and offered Aunt Agatha as much of a smile as she could muster.

“You look as though you have the cares of the world on your shoulders.”

“Just a little concerned.”

“About your husband’s reaction to holding the betrothal party here?”

She nodded and looked at her fingers, not surprised that Aunt Agatha could read her thoughts so well.

“Anything else?” Aunt Agatha’s tone was kind.

It almost undid her. She wanted to tell her about the nagging feeling that is should be her on Jemie’s arm.

Lizzie assured her she had no feelings for Jemie but seeing them laughing together and so at ease with each other, it really seemed as though they were planning the rest of their lives together.

It hit Frances forcibly that she could never experience that with him.

All she had was a small window of happiness where she could enjoy being with Jemie, but it would end once the house and portraits were finished, and that time was increasingly near. The false engagement to her sister might prolong things a little but there was no happy ever after.

She swallowed back the tears.

“Oh, Frances,” Aunt Agatha murmured. “What is it? You can tell me anything, you know. I might be an old maid, but I’m not completely oblivious.”

Frances glimpsed at her, blinking away tears. “I think you’ve probably guessed. It’s best you don’t say anything understanding or I shall embarrass myself.”

Aunt Agatha took her hand and squeezed it. “It’s an awfully pleasant gathering and being able to look at all the new artwork is fascinating.” Aunt Agatha spoke in a voice full of faux cheeriness.

Frances forced a smile. “Indeed. Not too large, either. I feared Lizzie might invite hundreds of people.”

Aunt Agatha patted her arm and disappeared into the crowd just as Anna came to stand beside her.

She wasn’t at all sure Anna believed in the sudden betrothal, being incredibly perceptive.

Of all people, Anna was the one she had always been able to talk to.

Now, she had to lie to her. Lying to Anna was absolutely beyond the pale.

Just the thought of it made her head hurt.

“They make an attractive couple,” Anna remarked.

“Indeed, they do.” Her voice was far too bright and her faltering smile weak.

“It came as something of a surprise. Although he’s always been fond of Lizzie, I hadn’t realised his intentions ran to matrimony.” Anna glanced at her before looking out across the room.

Frances shook her head. “Me either.” She was sure her voice now sounded higher pitched, squeaky even.

Anna gave her a long look, leaving Frances desperately trying to hold onto some semblance of composure, wondering if she would survive the evening unscathed.

***

The guests eventually left. Edith and William were among the last of them as they headed for their carriage with hugs and kisses all around. Anna, Aunt Agatha, and Miss Woodgrove bid everyone good night, retiring to bed along with the children. Lizzie hugged her tightly.

“Well, that went well,” she ventured.

“It did indeed.” Frances nodded, however she was completely unable to share her sister’s delight. Lizzie didn’t notice her unhappiness.

Lizzie and Jemie had been the epitome of a happy couple all evening, but now the guests had left, and the family gone to bed, it simply fell away revealing it as the pretence it was.

Some of the earlier tension had left Frances, though lying to the people she loved still sat uncomfortably. Thankfully, it was over for tonight.

Eventually, Lizzie retired to bed leaving her alone with Jemie in the drawing room and the silence was a relief. She watched as Jemie poured himself a brandy. He savoured a long drink, closing his eyes for a moment before turning to Frances.

“God, that was so much harder than I thought it would be. I hate lying to people. I really didn’t think this through.” He rubbed at his face with one hand.

She was inordinately relieved to hear him say it. “I know. It was awful, wasn’t it.”

He nodded and cast her a sad look. “I had the wrong lady on my arm.”

Her heart clenched in her chest to know that he had felt it too. Felt the guilt, felt the regret… She swallowed and stared at him. This beautiful, funny, passionate man. This man who saw her and understood her.

The fire crackled in the grate, and she could hear the wind whistle outside.

“Would you like a drink?” Jemie offered.

His gaze was warm. He looked at her with such tenderness, but as he ran his tongue over his lips, making them glisten, she realised he looked at her with something else, too.

Something that, for a moment, she didn’t understand.

But then she saw. In the flickering firelight, he looked at her with longing.

A longing that found an echo in her own heart.

Something shifted inside her. Something that she simply could not, would not, ignore any longer. It had been growing and gathering for days, nay, weeks. Months. What was now crystal clear to her was the time they had left to them before the works were complete was infinitely precious.

She shook her head then held out a hand that trembled only slightly. “Come… to bed with me?”