away her rights to dower when she married Tinmore in exchange for his providing for her siblings.
‘I did not expect this.’ Lorene pressed her fingers to her temple.
Tess took her other hand and squeezed it. ‘Now you can come to town and live in a lovely town house and always be near me.’ Tess and her husband spent most of the year in London.
But living in Mayfair was an appalling thought for Lorene. To be in town, among the beau monde, as Genna called them, the very people who whispered behind her back and remarked how she was just like her mother, who was scandal personified. She could hear them now, boasting how they knew all along she was after Tinmore’s fortune.
Genna hugged her. ‘This must be a huge relief to you. Now you will have no worries at all. You may do as you please. Everyone knows that widows are the most fortunate of women. You can make your own decisions. Control your own money. No husband will dictate to you.’
Tess gave her younger sister a horrified look. ‘Genna! How can you say such a thing when you are so newly married?’
Genna laughed. ‘I was not talking of me. Goodness knows, Ross is the best husband a woman could desire.’ A dreamy look crossed her face, but fled again, replaced by a pragmatic one. ‘I was speaking of other men.’
‘Not Marc,’ protested Tess.
‘Of course not!’ Genna appeared affronted. ‘Your husband is nearly as wonderful as mine.’
Tess smiled and absently touched her abdomen. ‘Yes, Marc is wonderful.’
Lorene regarded them and her heart swelled with fondness. That deep core of contentment inside her would never leave her. Her sisters and brother had found what she had most wanted for them and what she once dreamed of for herself.
Love and marriage.
And Lorene was convinced that her decision to marry Tinmore had led to their happy outcomes, even if none of it had happened as she’d thought. She gazed from Tess to Genna and was glad she’d made the sacrifice to give up her own dreams of such happiness.
Dell’s handsome face flashed through her mind, though she scolded herself for it. These feelings for him were simply ones she’d used to counter Tinmore’s nagging displeasure or thoughtless disregard of her. Dell was the antithesis of her husband, the perfect gentleman, always doing what was right and good. But their connection was not a romantic one.
She must stop mooning over him. What if she’d somehow shown her secret regard for Dell and that was why Tinmore had accused them of being lovers?
She’d not seen Dell since the day after Tinmore died. How was he faring? She knew he stayed away deliberately lest people think they really had been lovers and, worse, lest they think he pushed Tinmore to his death because of it. Look how coming to her aid had hurt him.
‘Lady Tinmore.’ The solicitor was gesturing for her to approach.
She rose and walked over to where Rossdale and Glenville were still standing with him.
‘Mr Filkins tells us the funeral and burial can take place as soon as two days hence,’ the solicitor told her. ‘That is, if you approve of such a simple ceremony. We could, of course, plan to wait until we can plan something grander.’
Wait? She could not bear to wait.
‘No, let us proceed with a simple funeral in two days,’ she said. ‘I am certain that is what he would wish.’ Not precisely. Tinmore would probably relish a great deal of pomp and fuss.
‘As you desire.’ The solicitor inclined his head. ‘You will, of course, not be expected to attend.’
Wives and other female mourners were not welcome at funerals and burials. They might break down in tears, which would be most unseemly. Lorene, though, feared her lack of tears would be what offended.
She turned to Mr Filkins. ‘Thank you for arranging this.’
He nodded solemnly.
She seemed to remember the will had provided well for him. ‘Will you retire, then, Mr Filkins?’
‘Who would hire me?’ He attempted a smile. ‘I have a cousin in Yorkshire. Mayhap I will settle there.’
She put a hand on his arm. ‘You must let me know if you do. I will write to you.’
He looked embarrassed and pleased at the same time.
She released him. ‘Do not think I am insensible to your assistance and—and your support, Mr Filkins. I will always cherish it.’
Now his face did turn red. She smiled and let him escape.
Tess walked up to her. ‘Do you have need of me, Lorene? Because I am suddenly quite fatigued.’
‘No. No need of you.’ Tess’s health and that of her baby were of utmost importance. ‘Rest for as long as you like.’
Glenville peered worriedly at his wife. ‘Are you unwell?’
Tess smiled and touched her abdomen. ‘We are quite well. But I am in great need of a nap.’
He gestured to the solicitor. ‘I was going to accompany Mr Filkins and the solicitors to call upon the vicar, to make final arrangements for the funeral.’
‘Go,’ said Tess. ‘I assure you I simply need a nap.’
Rossdale stood nearly at Lorene’s elbow, listening to this exchange.
She turned to him. ‘You and Genna need not stay, either, Rossdale. I am grateful that you were here for the reading of the will, but I suspect nothing more will require your presence today.’
Rossdale gave her a direct look. ‘Are you certain?’
She nodded. ‘I will relish some quiet time.’
He continued to peer into her face. ‘Because we will stay if you need company.’
‘No, at the moment I desire solitude more than company.’
She thanked the solicitors and walked with the entire entourage to the hall, saying goodbye to Genna and Rossdale, and letting the others know she would see them all at dinner. Glenville, Filkins and the solicitors called for their topcoats and hats. The vicarage was only a short distance away and, after some discussion, they decided to walk there rather than order the carriage.
Lorene walked up the stairs with Tess and saw her to her bedchamber. ‘Are you certain you are all right?’ she asked.
Tess took her hand. ‘Very certain. You could do with a rest, too, you know. We have some more days to get through.’
Tess meant the funeral. And the inquest.
Lorene gave her sister a kiss on the cheek. ‘Perhaps I will.’
But when Tess disappeared into her room, Lorene wrapped her arms around herself for a moment and leaned against the wall. The thought of retiring to her bedchamber or to her sitting room or to any room in this house was unbearable. Left alone with her thoughts? It was the last thing she wanted.
But she also did not want company. She loved that her sisters and their husbands were so attentive, but, to a certain extent she had to hide her emotions from them. The only one who knew how she felt inside about Tinmore’s death was Dell. The others might guess or even presume, but they did not hear it from her lips. She’d told Dell, though. She’d told him that her overwhelming feeling about her husband’s tragic death was...relief.
Thinking of it now filled her with shame. What sort of wife felt like this? Not even sad for him?
These were precisely the thoughts she sought to escape.
She glanced at the walls surrounding her and suddenly wished they would disappear. Even the air in the house felt oppressive. She wanted to breathe fresh air. She wanted to be free of walls. She wanted to feel the way she had walking to Summerfield House on Christmas