An Innocent Proposal. Helen Dickson
plan no gently bred young lady would dare think of, let alone consider.
Yet as she walked with her head down, completely unaware of the people around her, she fixed her mind on the plan, and, with a cold logic, let it grow until she could think of nothing else. At one stroke Lord Dunstan had presented her with an answer to her problem. He was obviously attracted by her, assessing her for the possibility of an amorous affair. He had told her that he wanted her and would reward her well. By giving herself to him, it could wipe out James’s debt entirely.
The thought of giving herself to Lord Dunstan sent a chill down her spine, but it did not shock her, the events of the past twenty-four hours having drained her of all feeling so there was hardly any emotion left in her. If her capacity to feel had been intact, everything inside her would have protested and rebelled against the plan forming in her mind, for she hated Lord Dunstan. But with her feelings and emotions deadened by the anxiety of the situation James had created her thoughts were entirely practical.
Nevertheless, there was a battle taking place within her soul, a battle between right and wrong, as taught her by her mother and the religious teachings of the church in which she had been raised. What she was considering would have been wholly abhorrent to the gentle woman who had raised her, who had stressed time and again that fornication before marriage was a mortal sin which would result in hell fire and damnation.
But, driven on by desperation, Louisa pushed these thoughts away. She and James had been impoverished for a long time, but had always managed to keep their heads above water. She was determined they would not become beggars. If there was a way of holding onto everything that was precious, of saving herself and James from homelessness and starvation, then she would do everything in her power to do so, and, if there was any understanding in heaven, perhaps her mother would forgive her for what she was about to do.
However, she knew James would never agree to her plan, and told herself that he need know nothing about it until such a day when she might have to tell him. And as for Lord Dunstan, he would continue to think of her as Miss Divine, and, afterwards, when the retrieval of James’s IOU had been accomplished, she would disappear from his life as though she had never been in it and return to Bierlow Hall. There she would be able to pick up the normal threads of her life with no slur attached to her name. The shame would be something she alone would have to bear.
Chapter Three
By the time Louisa reached the house there was a curious lightness to her step and a freedom in her heart. She knew that what she was planning would place her in unfamiliar territory, but she could not bear to contemplate the alternative. The more she thought about it, the more she became convinced it was the answer to all their problems.
She was surprised to find Timothy there alone, and disappointed to find that James, despite his circumstances, had left for the Somerset coffee-house in the Strand to meet up with some of his acquaintances, who usually gathered there in the mornings for breakfast and to converse.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Louisa,” Timothy said on a serious note. “When I arrived Alice told me both you and James were out, but that you would not be long. I’ve nothing doing today so I thought you and James might care to take a stroll in St James’s Park with me this afternoon. It’s a pleasant day and we could watch the soldiers on parade at Horse Guards. Afterwards we could take tea somewhere pleasant and later you and James can be my guests for supper. Come, what do you say? It might be just the thing you need to help cheer you after the unfortunate events of last night.”
Louisa gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Timothy. That’s extremely thoughtful of you. I must say it sounds like just what I need right now. However, I’m glad you waited. There is something I wish to discuss with you,” she said brusquely, handing her cloak to Alice and going into the sitting room, closing the door after Timothy had followed her inside. She stood before the fireplace, her hands folded quietly in front of her and her face set in lines of resolve. “Tell me more about Lord Dunstan, Timothy. Is he married?”
Her question came as some surprise to Timothy. “No—not any more. He was once, I believe, but something happened and he and his wife parted. I don’t know the details exactly—in fact, I think there are few who do for certain. It all took place at his home—Huntswood, in Sussex. Bit of a mystery, if you ask me—it was all so secretive—but from what I remember of the gossip at the time, I think she ran off with someone else.”
“I see. What else do you know about him?”
“Alistair Dunstan is a very private man, Louisa, who is a regular attender at Westminster, taking his seat in the House of Lords. Apart from attending White’s—where he is often to be found playing cards well into the night, he is not often seen in fashionable society—and when he is it is always at the theatre or some event of Lady Bricknell’s. As you know, he is extremely wealthy—owning a large estate in Sussex and having inherited certain properties here in London from his wife—and by all accounts he is a shrewd man when it comes to investments. He has a finger in several industrial developments, both in England and abroad. He is always reticent about his personal, private affairs.”
“And I can understand why, if his wife preferred being with another man.”
“So tell me, why the curiosity?”
“Because I think I know a way of clearing James’s debt, and it is important to me to know whether or not Lord Dunstan has a wife. It will make all the difference to what I am about to do.”
“May I ask why?”
Louisa faced him steadily, looking so young, so fixed and determined. “I have decided to become Lord Dunstan’s mistress.”
Appalled and alarmed, Timothy stared at her. “What?” he gasped. “Louisa! Have you taken leave of your senses? You cannot be serious about this?”
“I am deadly serious, Timothy,” she replied firmly. “It is not a matter I would jest about.”
“But you can’t. You cannot sell yourself to pay off James’s debts. It—it’s diabolical. It—it’s obscene,” Timothy protested forcefully. “I cannot believe you are saying this—that I am hearing this. You! You and Lord Dunstan!”
Louisa swallowed hard. “Yes. I have to. Timothy, Bierlow is not just my place of birth, it is my life,” she explained. “I have nothing else, don’t you see that? Do you think I have not anguished over this…what I have to do…on the chance I am taking? If James and I are to retain what little we have, then I have no choice—unless you can think of some other way.”
“You know I can’t, Louisa. But if I had the money I would give it to you—you know that.”
Louisa smiled, knowing he spoke the truth. As the younger son of a lord with a modest estate in Oxfordshire, Timothy had inherited neither title nor fortune. His position was not unlike James’s, except that unlike James, with his intemperate desire for pleasure, and who seemed to be hell-bent on self-destruction, Timothy knew how to control both his spending and his gambling.
“I know, and thank you, Timothy,” she said. “You’re a good friend—none better—to both James and me. But this is something I am going to have to sort out myself. It’s just a pity James doesn’t feel the same way, instead of drowning himself in liquor and waiting for something to turn up. He’s always been like that. Ever since the death of our parents he has had so many misconceptions about life. The estate—such as it is now that most of the land has been sold and we are left with just the house and the tenant farms—makes demands on us that should, in all fairness, have been seen to before James allowed himself the luxury of pleasure.”
There was sympathy in Timothy’s eyes which told Louisa he understood exactly.
“I have to agree with you there,” he said.
“For a long time now I have lived a spartan existence at Bierlow, making do with just the bare necessities. The estate has never meant as much to James as it does to me,” she said with a trace of sadness. “I know that, and he’s