Grant knew exactly what he was doing—and he was already thinking of doing much more. In fact if Jack Cunningham weren’t such a swine, he would bless Lettie’s liaison with him, since it provided him with an excuse to see Adeline.
After reaching Stanfield House and being informed that Lettie wasn’t expected back until much later, he returned to the hotel to change, then went to Boodles to meet with friends and relax and converse over drinks. Two hours later he got up to leave. In the foyer one of the stewards stepped forward with his topper, brushing its brim before handing it to him.
‘Thank you, George.’
‘You’re leaving early tonight, Mr Leighton.’
‘I have an appointment.’ Grant intended calling at Stanfield House once more, in the hope that Lettie was home.
A man who had just entered paused and looked at him. He had recognised the name immediately. ‘Leighton?’
Grant looked at him coolly. ‘That’s correct. And you are?’
‘Cunningham. Jack Cunningham,’ he said, puffing on an expensive cigar and sending smoke swirling into the air. ‘We have a mutual acquaintance, I believe. Lady Diana Waverley.’
‘Yes,’ Grant replied without feeling, as if he were addressing a much lesser man. Taller than the other man, Grant neither smiled nor offered his hand. ‘Lady Waverley and I are acquainted. I believe you are also acquainted with my sister, Lettie?’
‘I do have that pleasure. Lettie and I have become—close.’
Grant’s face hardened into an expressionless mask. ‘So I gather.’
‘Look, I don’t know how much Lettie’s told you,’ Jack said with amazing calm, ‘but my intentions towards her are perfectly honourable.’
‘I’d like to believe that.’ His tone expressed doubt.
The eyes Grant Leighton fixed on Jack with barely concealed dislike were steady, clever, unreflecting, stirring Jack’s resentment and an acute discomfort. Holding his cigar in the corner of his mouth, he tapped his cane against the palm of his hand.
His eyes flicked over Lettie’s brother. Attired in princely manner—claret tail coat with velvet collar, crisp white shirt, stock and dove-grey trousers—his was an elegance that could neither be bought nor cut into shape by a tailor. Grant Leighton was one of those individuals whose breeding was so obvious it would show itself even if he were clothed in rags.
Jack was overpoweringly aware of the difference between them. He lived by his wits and, in the eyes of the law, on immoral earnings. Whereas Leighton owned land and property on a massive scale, fine carriages, and a house in the country where he would have servants and ride on his land on one of the splendid mounts from the Leighton stable. In fact he had as certain a future as was possible in life.
‘In case you have not heard, we are to be neighbours,’ Jack said, undaunted by the other man’s reserved manner and slightly veiled contempt.
Grant raised an uninterested brow. ‘We are?’
‘Yes. I am in the process of buying a house very close to Oaklands—Westwood Hall.’
Now Grant was all attention, but he remained guarded. ‘Diana is selling Westwood Hall?’
Cunningham nodded, unable to conceal the triumphant gleam from his eyes behind half-lowered lids. When Diana had approached him for a loan he had seen the extent of her debts, and that she would be unable to pay back the money. With Westwood Hall within his sights he had generously given her what she asked for, intending to turn that generosity to his advantage. It was time to call in the debt.
Ever since he had dragged himself out of the East End he had hungered for great wealth and prestige, and he was determined to achieve them by whatever means necessary. A large country house was part of his agenda, along with a compatible lifestyle, and with Lettie—a refined and respected young woman—as his wife, and however many children came their way, his position in society would be established.
‘Between you and me, Leighton, Diana’s affairs have reached the point of crisis. The bank has foreclosed on her loans—along with an army of money-lenders. With no means of clearing her debts she has no choice but to let the house go. I’m looking forward to living in the country. When I am in residence you must visit.’
‘It’s finalised?’
‘Not quite—but almost. The necessary papers are drawn up. She will sign in the next few days.’
‘I see. If you will excuse me, I have an appointment—but there is just one thing you must understand, Cunningham,’ Grant said, meeting his gaze directly. ‘Your association with my sister is over. You will not attempt to see her again.’
‘Or?’
‘You will regret it.’
‘Me? Oh, no, Leighton. It is you who will regret interfering.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘Anyone who crosses me is either very brave or very stupid.’
‘I have friends in high places and a great deal of power—enough not to be afraid of anything you can do to me.’ There was a rough, dangerous edge to Grant’s voice, and his eyes were cold.
‘Really? I know a great deal more about you than you know about me,’ Jack said, smiling with a touch of arrogance.
Grant smiled back, his look hard, as if he also had secret knowledge that amused him.
Jack saw something, and there was a subtle change in his eyes. Leighton was staring at him, and his eyes read far too much. Suddenly he was uncertain. ‘I’m curious. What do you know about me?’
‘Enough. Your association with Lettie has prompted me to find out all about you, and I don’t like who you are or what you are. As to your intentions—or should I say pretensions—if it is your intention to offer marriage to my sister, forget it. It won’t happen.’
On those words Grant left the club. He was deeply troubled. He’d disliked Jack Cunningham on sight—the man was as appalling as he’d imagined he would be—and the sooner he saw Lettie and told her to end the affair the better he would feel. But first he must see Diana, and find out what the hell she was playing at.
‘I want your advice about something,’ Lettie said, when she called on Adeline that same evening.
When Adeline had met Lettie in the hall she’d seemed agitated and troubled in spirit, and this was confirmed now Adeline saw her in the gaslight of the drawing room. She looked wan and tired, and all manner of forebodings began to trouble Adeline. Perhaps Lettie needed someone to talk to? The thought expelled her practicality and provoked her at once to force the issue.
‘Lettie,’ she said, drawing her down beside her on the sofa and facing her, ‘you want more than advice. You want help. Please tell me what I can do. Anything. I cannot bear to see you like this.’
Lettie was distraught as well as feeling wretched. She was also annoyed with herself that her feelings were so clear, and yet she wanted to share them with Adeline. There was a need in her not to be alone in her distress. When she spoke her voice was low, but steady. ‘I want to tell you something that I know will shock you. Something has happened, Adeline, and I need your particular brand of common sense to tell me what to do. Even if it’s to throw myself into the River Thames.’
‘That’s unlikely to solve anything, Lettie,’ Adeline said, trying to keep her manner calm and casual. ‘Tell me what it is.’
Lettie swallowed hard, and was obviously close to tears. ‘It’s quite dreadful. I warn you it may be the last time you will ever want to speak to me.’
Adeline knew, even before Lettie told her, that it had something to do with Jack Cunningham. Lines of dread creased her forehead and she felt wretched. ‘Don’t be silly, Lettie. You do exaggerate. Of course I will. Please tell me what is the matter and let me help you.’
White-lipped, Lettie reached out and gripped Adeline’s hands tight. ‘Oh, Adeline,’ she whispered. ‘I—I am pregnant. I am going to have Jack’s baby.’
Adeline stared at her in blank astonishment. Continuing to hold Lettie’s hands, she sat for a moment, trying to bring order out of the chaos of speculation and shock that choked her mind. She thought for a hysterical instant that she was making some silly joke. Then she saw the truth in her eyes and knew that she meant it.
‘Oh, I see.’ Realising that she must handle this terrible situation with the greatest delicacy, she said, ‘How long have you known?’
‘I—I’ve suspected I might be for several weeks,’ Lettie whispered, the expression of anguish on her face beginning to fade a little now it was out in the open.
‘And you are certain of this?’
She nodded. Tears like fat raindrops began to slide down her cheeks. ‘A—a doctor has confirmed it—this morning. I had to come to you, Adeline. There is no one else I can talk to about this—no one but you.’
Adeline’s heart melted with pity at the sight of Lettie’s desolation. ‘Oh, Lettie, thank goodness you did come to me. But why have you kept this to yourself? If you have known about your condition for some time, then you must have known when we went to the Phoenix.’
‘I did—but things have changed since then.’
‘How?’
‘I can’t tell you that—not now, Adeline.’
‘What—what about Jack? Have you told him?’
Lettie nodded. ‘He—he’s delighted.’
These words were spoken with so much bitterness it bemused Adeline. ‘What man wouldn’t be on being told he’s to become a father? But there’s more to this, isn’t there, Lettie? If there weren’t you wouldn’t be so upset. Has—has Jack hurt you in some way—said something? Has—has he not asked you to marry him?’
Lettie glared at her fiercely. ‘Marry him? Of course he wants to marry me—the bastard,’ she hissed. ‘I wouldn’t marry him, Adeline—not ever. Oh, at first what we had was fun—but I didn’t know him then, what he was really like. Now I do know—I know everything—and I want nothing more to do with him. Now he wants to control me, to bend me to his will—to own me.’
‘But what on earth has he done that has brought about this change in you?’
Lettie gulped on her tears. ‘Enough. His crimes—his appetite for money and his methods of achieving it—I can’t be part of that. But there’s more—much more—and it’s got nothing to do with any of that. It’s far more horrible.’
Suddenly a suspicion occurred to Adeline. ‘Has it anything to do with that woman you spoke to outside the Phoenix Club?’
She nodded. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, her voice barely audible. ‘That woman was Jack’s sister. I’ve seen her again since. She—she’s told me things—things I can’t bring myself to speak about. It’s—it’s too awful—brutal and cruel. I want no part of him. I don’t want Jack Cunningham’s baby.’ She put her hands to her face. Any reserve she had left disappeared, and she began to cry dementedly. ‘Oh, Adeline, I must get rid of it—I have to. I can’t bear the thought of bringing a child of his into the world. I will kill myself first.’
Adeline stared at her in appalled silence. What Lettie said was more shocking than her sheltered mind could imagine. Fiercely she took the wretched woman’s shivering body in her arms and held her until she was all cried out.
Pulling herself away from Adeline, as though she must finish her tale of horror, Lettie put her face into her hands with shame. ‘I—I know someone who knows a doctor who will do it. He—he’s fully qualified—in open practice—so it will be quite safe. I have been assured it will be no brutal kitchen surgery of a back street abortionist.’
What Lettie was saying was impossible—too hideous for Adeline’s mind to grasp. Absolutely horrified, she reached out and gripped Lettie’s arms, forcing her to look at her, unaware that her own cheeks were wet with tears of pity and compassion for her friend. ‘Lettie. Lettie, my dear, dear friend, listen to me.’ Lettie looked at her, and the pain in her eyes was frightening. ‘You must promise me that you will not do that. It is wrong—so very, very wrong—and you could die. I will help you, I swear I will, but you must not abort your child. Oh, dear God, Lettie, I cannot bear the thought of it.’
‘But I am desperate, Adeline—and in these matters I find myself as ignorant as the most wretched servant girl. The option of an abortion is more acceptable than an unwanted pregnancy—than bearing his child.’
Adeline regarded everything that Lettie said with particular horror. ‘Lettie, this is a baby you are talking about. A baby.’
‘It isn’t,’ she said fiercely. ‘I can’t think of it as that. It’s a monster, and I want to tear it out of me with my bare hands.’ In desperation she looked around the room. She made a vague gesture. ‘If only there was some medicine—quinine, or mercury, or some such thing—something I could take.’
‘No, Lettie. There isn’t—and anyway I won’t let you.’
Lettie bowed her head. ‘How can I tell my mother? Have you any idea what this will do to her? Can you tell me that—and Grant? He’ll kill me. I’m not proud of myself. I—could kill myself,’ she said quietly to herself.
‘Lettie Leighton! Don’t you dare talk like that. Please. You terrify me. You will find a way to get through this. I’ll help you. Now it’s happened you must brave it out.’
‘I don’t know how I can do that.’
‘You will, Lettie. Don’t be afraid. Now,’ she said, standing up, ‘I think the sensible thing for you to do is to stay here tonight. I’ll have Mrs Kelsall prepare a room, and I’ll send word to Lady Stanfield so that she doesn’t worry.’
Lettie stood up quickly. ‘No, I must go back. The carriage is outside.’ She gave Adeline a wobbly smile. ‘Don’t worry about me. Now that I’ve told you I do feel a bit better. I’ll plead a headache and have an early night.’ Lettie looked into Adeline’s eyes and wondered for a moment how they could be so warm and loving after she had listened to the shocking and unbelievable things she had just heard. ‘I’m sorry to burden you with this. Do you hate me, Adeline?’
‘Hate you?’ Adeline placed a comforting hand against Lettie’s tear-drenched cheek. ‘You must never think that, Lettie. Ever. Our friendship is as steadfast now as it has ever been—undiminished by the knowledge of what Jack Cunningham has done to you. We have to work out what is to be done—and we will do that together.’
Taking Lettie’s hand, Adeline accompanied her out into the empty hall, where she put her arms about her and hugged her, then kissed her on the cheek. ‘Come and see me in the morning, Lettie—and promise me you won’t do anything rash.’
‘I promise,’ she said huskily. ‘I know I can trust you not to speak of this to anyone, Adeline.’
Adeline opened the door to find a light mist had settled over the street. It smelled of soot. Streetlights along the pavement made small pools of ragged light. She watched Lettie walk steadily towards the carriage, her back straight, her head held high, and was suddenly struck by the clamped expression of determination on her face. She looked as though walking across the pavement to the carriage was a goal of such enormity and distance it would take all her strength to reach it.
As Adeline brooded over Lettie’s sickening plight—for sickening it was to anyone who knew Lettie—she felt more and more depressed, and so concerned for her friend that she was unable to sleep or concentrate on anything else. It had been bad enough when Lettie had told her she was seeing Jack Cunningham, but this was a situation of such magnitude she didn’t know how to deal with it.
Lettie had come to her in an act of trust, so one thing she did decide on was not to confide in Grant. She would support and help Lettie in any way she could, but it was up to Lettie to tell her family, when she felt ready and strong enough to do that. But what on earth could have happened to turn Lettie against Jack Cunningham in the space of forty-eight hours?
She remembered she had promised Grant she would ride with him at six in the morning, and as much as she wanted to see him she wished she hadn’t. It would be awkward being in his company, knowing what she did about Lettie.
Daylight had broken when Adeline trotted towards Hyde Park. The sky was dull and overcast, threatening rain later, but it didn’t dampen her spirits for the ride. On reaching the corner of Park Lane she felt a thrill of delight to find Grant already waiting for her, mounted on a tall bay gelding, his muscular thighs clamped to the horse’s sides.
She was attired in a green velvet riding habit the same colour as her eyes, which fitted her slender form like a glove, with the heavy mass of her hair anchored beneath a jaunty matching hat. Grant watched her ride towards him, feeling a familiar quickening in his veins. He wasn’t surprised to see she was riding side-saddle, with no sign of breeches beneath her habit. No doubt when she was in town she felt she had to bow to protocol rather than risk a scandal by riding astride and wearing men’s breeches. The bay shifted restlessly and he tightened his hands on the reins.
Telling her accompanying groom to wait for her, Adeline joined Grant. He was hatless, and wearing a conventional frock coat, light trousers and tan riding boots. His gaze was unnervingly acute.
‘Good morning,’ he greeted her. Noting how pale and strained her face was, and the purple smudges beneath her eyes, he frowned. Narrowing his eyes, he locked them on hers. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Yes, everything’s fine,’ she replied, forcing a smile to her lips and looking away to avoid his searching gaze. ‘I’m just a bit tired, that’s all. I didn’t sleep very well.’
‘Then perhaps a ride to clear your head is just what you need.’
‘I hope so.’ In no mood for conversation, she gestured towards the park, eager to get on. ‘Shall we go?’
‘We’ll head for the Row. The track will have been prepared for galloping.’
The park was deserted as they rode over the soft green turf.
‘Does your father ride when he’s in town,’ Grant asked, for something to say to break the silence between them.
‘No. Riding is not one of his interests.’
‘Unlike his daughter. I’m surprised he’s allowing you to spend so much time in town alone.’
‘So am I. He’s not usually so amiable. When Lettie wrote asking me to come to London I was amazed at how easy it was for me to persuade him.’
‘Maybe it was because he has invited my mother to spend a few days at Rosehill.’
Adeline looked at him in amazement. ‘He has?’
Grant nodded.
‘When?’
‘About now.’
‘Goodness! I had no idea. And I do find it rather odd. Whenever he’s expecting guests he always needs me to take care of everything.’
‘I’m sure you have a perfectly capable housekeeper to do that. And besides, maybe he wanted to have my mother to himself.’
Adeline looked at him sharply. ‘And are you happy with that? At Oaklands you gave me the impression that you did not approve of them becoming too friendly.’
‘I’ve changed my mind. If my mother is happy, then I shall be happy for her.’
Having reached the track, both horses tossed their heads, tugging at the reins, eager for a run. They let them go. With the heavy pounding of horses’ hooves beneath them they rode neck and neck, flying past St George’s hospital and the statue of the Duke of Wellington behind the trees. The sky was peppered with waking birds, but the two riders were too preoccupied with their ride even to notice them. Adeline was exhilarated. The blood flowed fast in her veins, her heart pounded and her skin tingled, and for a while the burden of Lettie’s situation was lifted. Grant was right. The ride was just what she needed.
Grant gave his horse a flick with his crop, urging him to a faster pace and pulling away from Adeline by a couple of lengths. Looking back, his hair dishevelled, his coat flapping behind him and his bent arms moving up and down like birds’ wings, he grinned back at her and she laughed at him, her teeth gleaming white in her rosy face.
‘I’ll catch you,’ she shouted. ‘I swear I will.’
‘How much would you like to bet? A kiss?’
The redness in her cheeks deepened, but, goaded by the mocking amusement in his voice, she snatched up the gauntlet of the challenge. ‘Done.’
But it was no good. With the promise of a kiss at the end of the race, Grant showed no sign of slowing down—not until they neared the end of the track and he eased his horse to a canter, beating Adeline by a length. Knowing she was beaten, and would have to suffer the consequences, Adeline dropped her horse to a walk and went towards where he was waiting.
Waiting in anticipation for her to offer him her lips, Grant couldn’t take his eyes off her. The ride had tinted her face a delicate pink, and he knew that when he touched her mouth he would feel the warmth of her blood coursing beneath her flesh.
‘I won,’ he declared.
‘That’s hardly fair. You were already well ahead when you issued the challenge.’
‘And that’s a feeble excuse if ever I heard one, Miss Osborne. Are you reneging on our wager?’
‘No,’ she replied, eyeing him warily.
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Turning his head, he looked towards a group of trees, smiled wickedly, and then looked back at her with narrowed eyes.
‘Prepare to pay your forfeit, Miss Osborne. Pray follow me. When I claim my reward I have no wish to have the whole of London gawping at me.’
On reaching the seclusion of the trees, knowing there was no escape, with a pounding heart Adeline nudged her horse close to his, intending to give him nothing more than a peck on the cheek. But she should have known that Grant Leighton would be satisfied with nothing less than a full-blown kiss.
He leaned across to her, and instead of drawing away she shyly met him halfway. With his face just two inches from hers, for a moment his eyes held hers, and then, taking her chin gently in his fingers, he let his gaze drop to her lips. Gradually his head moved closer and his lips brushed hers, undemanding, caressing tenderly, as if testing her resilience. Then with the confidence of a sure welcome they settled over hers, becoming firm as he turned his considerable talents to savouring their luscious softness.
The contact was like an exquisite explosion somewhere deep inside Adeline. The kiss deepened, and her lips were moulded and sensually shaped to his. She felt that kiss in every inch of her body. In response, warm heat ignited and radiated through her flesh. Jolt after jolt of wild, familiar sensation pulsated through her. He parted her lips, his tongue teasing and tormenting, sinking into the haven of sweetness and claiming it for his own.
The kiss ended when Grant’s horse shifted slightly and they were forced to draw apart. Adeline gazed at his face, at the harsh set lines, seeing the evidence of desire ruthlessly controlled. She wasn’t ignorant of his state—had she not seen it once before? Almost kissed into insensibility, she watched his smouldering gaze lift from her lips to her eyes, and then his firm lips curved in a smile and he drew back.
‘If we don’t stop now I swear I will dismount, drag you from your horse and into those bushes and make love to you—which I have wanted to do ever since our first encounter—to discover what I missed, you understand. So, while I would like to experience more, I will press you no further. The time is not right. Others will soon be arriving in the park and I fear we will be caught out. I live in hope that there will be other times when I will hold you closer and for much longer, Adeline. But now we’ll ride at a leisurely pace back down the track, and I shall hand you over to your groom.’
‘When will you see Lettie?’ Adeline dared to ask, not looking at him lest he saw the guilty secret in her eyes.
‘I shall return to the hotel and have breakfast, and then I intend calling on her before she disappears to one of her meetings.’
Not until she had left him and was riding back to Eaton Place did what he had said hit Adeline—he intended further intimacies in the future to satiate his desire. Her face burned. How could she have forgotten that only the day before last she had vowed not to become one of his flirtations? How could she have forgotten how utterly amoral he was, and how supremely conceited?
But his kiss, the feel of his lips on hers, the way her body had reacted, the sensations she had felt, made her want, yearn, for what she knew he could give her.
When Lettie didn’t call at Eaton Place that same morning, Adeline, deeply concerned about her, and wondering how her meeting had gone with Grant, went to Upper Belgrave Street—only to be told by Lady Stanfield that Lettie was visiting a sick friend and wasn’t expected back until evening. When Adeline asked if Grant had called to see his sister earlier in the day, she was disappointed and angry to be told he hadn’t.
After spending some time with Marjorie, talking about her impending engagement party, for which preparations were going on in earnest, still feeling tense and upset because she hadn’t seen Lettie, Adeline returned home. She felt as though she were sitting on a volcano, and in awful suspense as she waited for something to happen.
It was shortly after nine o’clock when a cab arrived at the house with Lettie. Mrs Kelsall opened the door to her, and Adeline met her in the hall.
Lettie just stood and stared at Adeline. She looked ghastly—like death. Her face was as white as parchment, her eyes leaden and as colourless as the sea on a dull day. After a moment, as if she couldn’t bear to look at Adeline any longer, she hung her head as though in the deepest shame.
That was the moment Adeline knew what she had done. Something inside her lurched in terror. Why, she didn’t know, for surely the worst had happened? Nausea rose in her throat. Oh, dear, sweet Jesus, her mind whispered, what had they done to her? Concern for her friend came to the fore and propelled her across the floor.
‘Lettie,’ she whispered, taking her cold, trembling hand and placing her arm about her shoulders.
Mrs Kelsall hovered and stared, not knowing what to do. Adeline looked at her. ‘As you can see, Mrs Kelsall, Miss Leighton isn’t well. Prepare a room for her, will you? And have someone go to Lady Stanfield and inform her that she is staying here with me tonight. Tell her she is not to worry. Some tea would be welcome. We’ll be in the drawing room.’ She turned her attention to Lettie. ‘Come, Lettie. Come and sit by the fire, and when Mrs Kelsall has prepared a room I’ll take you upstairs.’
Lettie’s movements were wooden as she let Adeline lead her into the drawing room and sit her in a chair close to the fire, where she began to tremble uncontrollably. One of the maids brought in a tray of tea things. Adeline poured, and held a cup to Lettie’s frozen lips. But she shook her head and turned it away. Kneeling beside her, Adeline took her hand where it lay in her lap.
‘Lettie, please speak to me. I know what you’ve done—and, oh, my dear, I am not angry, but I am concerned. Are you in pain?’
Swallowing hard, Lettie nodded, her eyes swimming with tears. Her lips moved in reply, but Adeline could not catch what she said.
‘What is it, Lettie?’ she asked, leaning closer. ‘What did you say?’
This time she did hear the words.
‘The baby…’ Lettie’s throat was so tight the words were forced out.
Trying to keep her voice from shattering with the sorrow she felt, Adeline drew a long breath and said, ‘I’m really sorry you had to resort to this, Lettie. I really am.’ Her eyes, too, filled with tears, and all she could do was hold Lettie’s hand tighter.
‘Please forgive me, Adeline,’ she whispered.
‘It is not for me to forgive,’ Adeline answered quietly. ‘Everything’s going to be all right. Don’t worry any more. But you look most ill, Lettie. I must send for a doctor to take a look at you.’
Lettie’s look was frantic, and she gripped Adeline’s hand with remarkable strength. ‘No—please—please no,’ she whispered raggedly. ‘It’s a doctor who did this to me. No more, Adeline. No more. I can’t take it. It’s done—over—and I thank God for the release.’
The door opened and Mrs Kelsall appeared. ‘The room is ready, Miss Adeline. The fire is lit.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Kelsall. I’ll take Lettie up.’
‘Can I—be of help?’
‘Thank you, but I think we can manage.’
Somehow Adeline managed to get Lettie up the stairs and into the bedroom where, like a child, she let Adeline and Emma undress her and put her in one of Adeline’s nightgowns of fine embroidered cambric. After unpinning Lettie’s hair and sponging her face, Adeline laid her in the bed. Immediately Lettie lay on her side, with her back to Adeline. Closing her eyes, she drew her knees up to her chest and began to whimper.
Telling Emma she could manage, and sending her to bed, Adeline sat beside the bed and began a silent vigil, hoping and praying that Lettie was going to be all right. She was breathing heavily, and sweat stood out on her skin.
The pain got worse during the night, and she began complaining of the heat and throwing off the covers. Becoming more and more concerned, Adeline touched Lettie’s head, then wrung out a cloth in a dish of water and placed it on her brow. After another couple of hours Lettie began shivering and moaning, almost senseless, tossing her head from side to side, her fingers plucking at the bedcovers.
That was when Adeline, in desperation, wrote a note to Grant. She sent one of the servants with it in the carriage, to the Charing Cross Hotel, asking him to come immediately and—even though she knew Lettie would reproach her for it—to bring a doctor.
Accompanied by another man carrying a leather bag, Grant came quickly, and saw the anguish full on the white oval of Adeline’s face. She stared at him. Tension weighed heavily on his spirit.
‘Adeline,’ Grant said when the drawing room door had closed. ‘Are you all right?’ Placing a gentle finger under her chin, he compelled her to meet his gaze, having to restrain himself from taking her in his arms. Her lovely colour had gone and her eyes were haunted. ‘What is it? Tell me.’
‘Oh, Grant—it’s Lettie.’
There was no way to tell him except with the simple truth. And in the next few minutes she told him what Lettie had done. The one thing she failed to tell him was that the decision to abort her child had been Lettie’s alone.
In disbelief Grant listened in stunned silence to every word she uttered. In all his life he had never been immobilised by any emotion or any event. The worse the pressure the more energised he became. Now, however, he stared at Adeline as if unable to absorb what she had told him. His lips tightened to a thin line, then he grimaced with suppressed anger.
When she had finished speaking, drawing a long, steadying breath, Adeline looked at him and waited for him to speak.
Pain and anger blazed through Grant’s brain like hot brands as he envisaged Lettie facing her ordeal alone. ‘Ever since you told me Lettie was seeing Cunningham I thought that with one word from me she would stop. I never imagined I would have to deal with anything like this.’ He turned to the man hovering behind him—a middle-aged man, his face creased in lines of grave concern.
‘Adeline, this is a friend of mine—Howard Lennox. He is a doctor and will examine Lettie. I know we can be assured of his absolute discretion.’
Howard stepped forward. ‘As you know, Grant,’ he said in a brusque, businesslike manner, ‘I am reluctant to make common gossip of my patients’ private health matters. Not even among friends. Miss Osborne, I am happy to be of assistance in any way I can. Will you take me to Miss Leighton? In cases such as this I doubt there is much I can do, but we shall see.’ He looked at Grant. ‘Wait here, Grant, until I’ve examined her.’
Left alone, Grant stood for a second to try and calm himself—for the thought of Lettie at the hands of Jack Cunningham and the doctor he had employed to perform an illegal, life-threatening abortion on her was almost more than he could bear. He was certain that Lettie would never have done anything like this without being forced into it. Unable to control all his confused emotions—anger, hatred, bitterness, love for Lettie and the soul-destroying feeling that he had failed her—he knew his rage was so red he wanted to shout, to snarl, to hit someone, to kill someone. Peferably Jack Cunningham. But he must pull himself together before he saw Lettie.
Having woken Emma and left her to sit with Lettie, who was now quiet and seemed to be sleeping, Adeline returned to the drawing room with Dr Lennox and poured both men a good measure of much-needed brandy.
‘How is she?’ Grant asked, feeling he was holding onto reality by the merest thread.
Howard shook his head, then tipped his glass and swallowed the brandy in one gulp, shaking his head when Adeline offered him another. ‘I have to say she is very ill.’
‘She must not die,’ Adeline whispered.
‘Do not upset yourself, Miss Osborne. While there’s life there is hope.’ He looked at Grant. ‘Some infection has set in, and her temperature is high. She is also in deep shock. But she is your sister, Grant. She’s strong, and I believe she will pull through this.’
‘Dear God, let us pray that she does.’ His set features relaxed, his relief evident.
‘I’ve examined her as best I can. There is some comfort in the fact that the operation was performed by a doctor,’ Howard said. ‘Some doctors can be found who will perform abortions—although they extract a high price.’
‘That wouldn’t be a problem for Cunningham,’ Grant growled. ‘But I am of the opinion that the doctor who did this to Lettie owed Cunningham. This doctor would have had no option but to submit to illegal practice.’
‘That is a matter of opinion, Grant. Abortion is legal if performed by a doctor. You have made enquiries into Cunningham’s background?’
Grant nodded. ‘Cunningham controls a hierarchy of individuals who owe him—ranging from beggars at the bottom to specialised lawyers at the top. A quiet word and almost anything can be accomplished. What do you advise we do with Lettie?’
‘Well, for the time being she shouldn’t be moved.’
‘That’s not a problem,’ Adeline was quick to say, dismayed that Grant had jumped to the wrong conclusion and was blaming Jack Cunningham for Lettie’s condition. But she would wait until Dr Lennox had left before she told him he was mistaken. ‘She can stay here for as long as necessary. I’ll look after her.’
Grant looked at her gratefully. ‘Thank you, Adeline. Hopefully it won’t be for too long.’
‘Lettie must have been desperate—she must have seen her future as precarious to have done what she did,’ Howard remarked. ‘Her recovery will take time, and she will require patience and understanding as she comes to terms with what she has done and tries to rebuild her life.’ Carrying his bag, he crossed to the door, where he turned and looked back at Grant. ‘I understand you’re leaving London for the continent shortly, Grant?’
‘I am—in a few days, as a matter of fact.’
‘Business?’
He shrugged somewhat wearily. ‘What else? I expect to be away for several weeks.’
‘I’ll return in the morning to take another look at Lettie. But if you need me in the meantime you know where to find me.’