The Wicked Heir (Spare Heirs #3)(55)
“Then along came Mr. St. James.” Mrs. Featherfitch paused to smile over some memory. “He was far too young for her, of course, at barely nineteen. And untitled.”
“What does that matter?” Isabelle bristled.
“It doesn’t, my lady, except to those who wish to have a piece of the world you live in. Suffice to say, St. James became a large part of Lady Herron’s life.”
“They were married, defying society’s demands otherwise?” Isabelle asked, her heart clenching at the romance of it all even if she couldn’t envision the man she knew being happy with a woman so much older than he. Still, she supposed, age was only a number where the heart was concerned. “I didn’t know St. James was once married. That would mean he’s a widower. He’s never mentioned—”
“No. He remains unwed. Mr. St. James and her ladyship were friends of a sort. He lived here. At first we were all a bit dismayed at the arrangement. But they were so happy together. Soon, Lady Herron was no longer keeping to her room but was taking walks with St. James. They attended balls again, things she hadn’t done in some time. He helped her live again, fixed her right up.”
“That’s beautiful,” Isabelle murmured. He’d helped an elderly lady to regain her strength. He’d fixed that lady’s problems, just as he was doing for Isabelle. He was truly a kind man.
“It was a lovely thing when he came to live here. Talk in town made it seem tawdry, and in some ways it was. He did stay with her night after night, right here in this room.”
And suddenly everything clicked into place in Isabelle’s mind, filling a space she reserved for unromantic things that Victoria told her and memories she’d rather forget. “In this room—”
“Yes,” the woman confirmed. “As close companions.”
Isabelle narrowed her eyes at the housekeeper. There had to be something she was missing. Fallon wouldn’t do such a thing, would he? “Companions still require their own accommodations,” she tried to argue. “My aunt has a companion, Lula. I’m unsure of her true name, as that’s what we’ve always called her. What I do know is that my aunt put Lula in the servant’s quarters belowstairs and my mother called it shameful. I’m quite sure if that is shameful, then not providing a companion any sort of room is unspeakable.”
“Lady Isabelle, pardon my phrasing, but as I’m quite certain you’re seasoned to such things given our current surroundings, your St. James was a kept man.”
“He isn’t my… We haven’t. I mean to say, we are not… A…kept man?” After attempting to argue the various misconceptions in her last statement, her mind could only focus on the one: Fallon had been a kept man. Was that how he gained this home?
None of this could be true. She knew Fallon, didn’t she? Or had she dreamt him into becoming the version of the man that now resided in her heart? She sank into one of the chairs at the table, not the least interested in the food placed there.
“They were quite close despite the vast difference in their ages,” Mrs. Featherfitch continued. “I believe he still blames himself for not being at her side the day she passed. He left to attend some meeting. Even in those days he would slip away for such things on occasion. Her ladyship was reading a book in the garden, and…well, that was that.” She dabbed at the corner of her eye with the back of a finger. “God rest her soul. The house was in a frenzy over what would become of her legacy, until we learned she’d left it all to Mr. St. James. Every coin, including the house. He’s lived here for some time—in mourning, although he won’t say a word on the subject. Of course, a few changes occurred as soon as her ladyship passed, but that’s not for me to discuss.”
“This is all quite the secret. He’s never mentioned anything of this to me.”
“Nor has he spoken of you to me until I was instructed to bring tea here for a guest.” The housekeeper indicated the tea growing tepid in front of her as they spoke.
“My…visit was rather abruptly planned,” Isabelle tried to explain, looking over the food on the table and not finding any of it appealing.
“These things usually are.”
“Are they?” she asked, looking up. “I must admit this is the first instance for me.”
“That is at least pleasant news. Lady Isabelle, you should know that I look after this house and its inhabitants to the upmost of my ability. And though I regularly turn a blind eye in favor of love when it comes to the affairs of others, this circumstance is quite different since St. James himself is involved. If you expect me to fill the role of lady’s maid…”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary, Mrs. Featherfitch. I don’t plan on attending any balls during my stay. Mr. St. James is rather insistent that I stay right here, in fact. I know how busy our household staff remains at my home, and I wouldn’t want to be a burden on you.”
“Good. Because between us, I do not approve of this arrangement. Not in the least. I will accept all else that that man does with her ladyship’s home, but this…”
Isabelle was sad that this woman thought so little of her, but then Fallon’s housekeeper had only just met her. Isabelle would endeavor not to be a burden to the woman. She smiled the broadest smile she could muster in the situation. “I’m not terribly pleased with the arrangement either, but I’m in no position to leave.”