“They have always loved each other. There was only misunderstanding and a lack of communication between them. If only they had talked together, if they had only been honest, things could have been resolved a long time ago.”
He nodded at her words, surprising her. She’d assumed he’d make some cutting comment but he seemed to agree. “Honesty is to be prized above all things.”
Matilda watched him closely for a moment. “You believe that.”
“I do,” he said, his gaze on her intent. “But sometimes it is a luxury one cannot afford to indulge.”
Matilda gave a humourless snort. “That is not true,” she said “As I remember the falsehoods you uttered to get me to Green Park with you. No, indeed, it sounds like the sort of thing a marquess would say to make himself feel better for lying through his teeth.”
“I never lie,” he said, his voice cold, clipped, and rather angry. “And that is a case in point. You knew my words were untrue as well as I did. I was simply managing the situation to my advantage and you knew it. I have always been honest with you.”
“Too honest, my lord,” she returned with a tight smile, wishing he’d leave her now.
Speaking with him was like dancing around a blade: sooner or later you’d misstep and find yourself cut to ribbons.
He moved closer, too close, his breath warm against her neck as his stark words shivered over her. “I want you very badly, Miss Hunt. I spend far too much time thinking of you, of how it would feel to take you in my arms. How is that for honesty?”
Matilda held herself still, refusing to show any reaction, though his words had set her blood alight, her nerve endings fizzing like tiny fireworks beneath her skin.
“I know,” she replied, proud of herself for the coolness of her reply, for the fact her voice hadn’t trembled when the rest of her was doing just that.
His fingers slid around her wrist, gentle yet firm, and her pulse thundered beneath his touch, his skin burning against hers as if he’d set a brand to her flesh.
“Have you accepted Mr Burton yet?”
The question caught her off-guard and she flushed before she had time to gather herself. His touch had scattered her wits and sent her heart thrashing in her chest like a wild thing.
“No.”
“Why not?” he asked. “He’s wealthy and handsome; he offers you everything you want, does he not?”
“Oh, and do you expect me to believe you remember what I want, let alone that you give a damn?” Matilda asked, wishing she had the strength to pull away from his grasp.
Instead, she turned away from his piercing gaze. Anger and frustration at the force of her reaction to him made her brittle. She stared around, wondering if anyone was watching their exchange, but all eyes were still on Harriet and Jasper.
“A home, children, and marriage to a man who loves and honours you.”
Matilda felt her breath catch as he recited the words she’d spoken back to her with precision.
“You said it was of no matter if he was a lord or a common merchant, you said you would love him with all your heart and give him everything he could ever dream of.”
Matilda could do nothing but turn back to him, staring into that startling silver gaze, as trapped in his presence as if his hand was a manacle, holding her in place, when it only encircled her wrist with the lightest touch. He’d remembered what she’d said, word for word.
“Why haven’t you said yes, when he offers you everything you dream of?”
There was something hot and unsettling burning in his eyes, and his question echoed an identical one of her own, a question that had circled her brain incessantly and would not let her be. His thumb caressed the inside of her wrist, that slight touch connecting at once to somewhere far more intimate, making her body conspire against good sense as longing throbbed beneath her skin. Matilda fought to keep her breathing even, fought to find an answer when she had none. She considered telling him she meant to accept Mr Burton as soon as she returned to town, but she wasn’t at all sure it was true and found she didn’t wish to lie to him, foolish as that was.
“I….” she began and then let out a sigh. “I don’t know,” she admitted, sounding far too breathless. “He offers me so much of what I hoped for, only—”
“Only?”
Matilda stared at him in surprise. There had been a fierce edge to that question, a hint of something that perhaps he’d not meant to reveal. She met his gaze and, for no good reason she could think of, she told him the truth.
“Because I don’t love him, because I fear he wishes to own me as he would a painting or a fine horse, and because… he frightens me a little.”
“More than I do?”
His voice was soft now, shivering over her skin like a caress as his thumb slid up and down her wrist, and then settled over the place where her pulse thundered, frantic with fear and desire. Matilda swallowed and compelled herself to remember what it was he wanted from her.
“Oh, no,” she said, the words hard and forceful and just as honest. “No, not nearly as much as you do, my Lord Montagu. So… if you’ll excuse me, I believe I promised this dance to St Clair.”
Matilda turned, tugged her wrist from his grasp, and hurried away from him.
Chapter 20
I know I ought not have done it, but I love him, and it was wonderful, so perfect. I love him so much it hurts. What option did I have?
Oh Lord, I’m so unhappy.
― Excerpt of an entry from one of the Peculiar Ladies to her diary.
19th September 1814. Holbrooke House, Sussex.
It was a warm afternoon, though the scent of autumn lingered in the air, the sunshine gilding the colours about them to deeper shades of red and gold as the summer gave way at last. Everyone was languid today, sleepy and content after a lazy morning recovering from last night’s excesses.
“I’m so tired,” Minerva said, smothering a yawn. “And my feet hurt. I don’t think I’ve ever danced so much.”
“It was a splendid party, wasn’t it?” Ruth said, setting down her teacup.
Matilda nodded, regarding the remaining Peculiar Ladies who sat on the terrace with her, enjoying the afternoon.
“Splendid,” she agreed, looking over at Harriet.
As ever, the young woman sat with a book in her hands, but she was not engrossed in it as she usually was. Instead her eyes were fixed on a figure walking the gardens, her expression so full of adoration that Matilda felt her throat tighten.
Ruth followed her gaze to where Lord St Clair was walking, deep in conversation with his brother. Matilda suspected Jerome was receiving a scolding. They watched as Harriet set down her book and got up, walking across the grass towards him. St Clair turned before she was anywhere near him, as if he’d known she was there the moment she’d got to her feet. He held out his hand and Harriet ran the last few steps, reaching up for a kiss as Jerome turned his back on the happy pair and pretended not to notice.
“Do you think there’s the slightest hope of finding something like that, or does it only come from knowing someone since childhood?” Ruth asked with a wistful sigh. “Like for Kitty and Luke.”
“My brother fell for Alice the first time they met,” Matilda said, smiling a little. “I think love is different for everyone, but if you find it, you must hold on to it very tightly indeed, for you may not be as lucky as Harriet was and get a second chance.”
“I agree,” Minerva said. “I think you must be brave and pursue it, even if it seems hopeless.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever know it,” Ruth said, though there was no despair in the words, just acceptance. “I think it would be foolish of me to hope for it.”
“What do you hope for?” Matilda asked, wondering if Ruth was correct. In her own case she feared it was all too true and that she should heed her words.
Ruth smiled her no-nonsense smile and placed her hands in her lap, considering the question for a moment. “I hope to please my father and make him proud b
y marrying a titled man to elevate the family, as he dreams I will. I hope that man and I can be friends and allies and that we can make each other comfortable, and perhaps even content. I hope to have children to love, a household to run, and a position of respect and security. That is what I hope for. What about you?”
“I hope I can be satisfied with everything you just said,” Matilda replied, meaning it. “For I know it is also everything I should wish for, and it ought to be more than enough, more than I have a right to expect in my circumstances.”
“It isn’t what you want at heart, though, is it?” Ruth’s tone was sympathetic, and far too understanding.
“Of course it isn’t!”
Ruth and Matilda looked up in surprise at Bonnie’s terse words. Matilda had thought her asleep as she’d been sitting between them with her eyes closed this past half hour, but apparently she had been attending the conversation.
“How can either of you hope to merely be comfortable or content?” she demanded, startling them by the force of her outburst. She sounded angry, and her eyes glittered with the threat of tears. “Perhaps that is the best reality will give us, but surely to goodness you hope for more than that? Don’t you hope and dream and wish for love and happiness and a life that’s full of all of those things, a life worth living, a life that touches others and leaves them changed by it?”
Matilda reached out and took Bonnie’s hand, squeezing it tight. “Yes,” she said, holding on tight. “Yes, I do. Of course I do.”
“Me too,” Ruth admitted, reaching out and taking Bonnie’s other hand. “Though I am well aware it’s a forlorn hope, I do still dream of it.”
“And me,” Minerva getting to her feet and putting her arms about Bonnie, kissing her cheek. “I dream of impossible things all the time, every day, and I shan’t stop, though no doubt that makes me a fool.”
“Not a fool,” Bonnie said fiercely. “It makes you alive, and I refuse to live as though I’ve one foot in the grave. Not yet, at least. I’ll not give in yet.”
Matilda reached out and ruffled Bonnie’s short curls. Though Matilda had to admit the daring hairstyle suited her, they’d all been shocked by her appearance this morning, though more so when they considered how she’d excused herself early last night and retired to her room with a headache… and a full head of hair. As yet, Matilda hadn’t dared ask her what she’d been up to.
“Has Morven written to you again?” Matilda asked, wishing there was something she could do as the bleak look entered Bonnie’s eyes and she shook her head.
“He’ll not write again,” she said, her gaze fixed on St Clair’s brother as the two men strolled with Harriet, down to the lake. “He’s said all he has to say.”
“Well, you can’t leave before the wedding, that’s for certain,” Minerva said, sitting back down again. “Lady St Clair has been so generous, offering to let us stay until the big day. So, we have two full weeks at least, and with that dashing new haircut you’re bound to turn heads, Bonnie. Perhaps some man will fall in love with you at first sight.”
Bonnie snorted. “Turning heads is easy enough. I’ve been doing that my whole life, if not for the right reasons. It’s getting them to see you, to see past all the things they thought they wanted, to the things that are important, the things they really need.” She sighed and closed her eyes again. “Ach, I’m a fool and dreaming of impossible things, just as Minerva said, but I’ll do it to the last all the same, for there’s nothing else I can do.”
“As will we all,” Matilda said as Ruth and Minerva nodded and added their confirmation to her words.
Bonnie’s eyes opened again and she looked from Matilda to Ruth and Minerva. “I’m so very grateful for your friendship, all of you,” she said, a real smile at her lips. “For all the trouble I cause and all the advice I don’t heed, don’t ever forget that. I know I’ve been blessed with my friends, and that’s more than many people ever have. Thank you for putting up with me,” she added, humour in her eyes.
“It’s a great pleasure, Bonnie, and I think we would all say the same. How blessed we are to have such friends. To the Peculiar Ladies,” Matilda said, raising her teacup in a toast as the other ladies followed suit. “And to all our futures, whatever they might bring us.”
***
2nd October 1814. Holbrooke House, Sussex.
The wedding was an informal affair, held in the private chapel at Holbrooke House. Harriet’s brother gave her away as the letter informing her parents of her nuptials probably would not even have reached them yet. Lady St Clair assured Harriet that her mother had always hoped that she would marry Jasper, and there was no reason to delay. They dare not, in any case. Harriet needed the protection of Jasper’s name and he was too eager to give it to countenance the slightest delay.
Harriet was glad of that, and proud to have her brother walk her down the aisle. After his initial shock, Henry seemed pleased as punch that his best friend was marrying his sister, even though he still seemed a little bemused by the idea.
Many of the Peculiar Ladies were in attendance, too. Kitty had come running back with her new husband in tow, heedless of Harriet’s protests at having interrupted her and Luke’s honeymoon, and nearly knocking Harriet flat in her exuberant delight at seeing her friend again, and in such happy circumstances. Prue and her husband, the Duke of Bedwin, arrived with Bedwin’s sister, Lady Helena, all of them flushed with the success of Prue’s latest book, which was taking the country by storm. Matilda’s brother Nate and a blooming Alice also accompanied them. Now the first three months of her pregnancy had passed without incident, Alice seemed in fine fettle, her eyes sparkling and a smile always at her lips, though there was no question as to why, as her husband fussed over her comfort and she looked upon him with adoration. Harriet had started at the burst of longing that had surged through her when she saw Alice smooth a protective hand over the slight swell of her belly, and wondered whether she might be with child too. She waited for panic to set in at the idea but found nothing but a smile curving her lips. How wonderful and extraordinary to think it. How happy Jasper would be, and how she wanted to make him happy.
Harriet turned to him now, trying to attend to the words of the service but utterly spellbound by the sight of the man beside her. He was unspeakably handsome, and she was so very proud of him, for so much more than just his beautiful face. She would spend her married life making up for any hurt she had caused him over the past years. She would protect him from anything that could hurt or embarrass him, for she realised now that Jasper needed protecting, not that he’d ever say so. Not because he wasn’t clever enough, how could she think that when he had hidden his difficulties from the world for so long? Not because anyone need pity him either, for he was quite clearly a brilliant artist, and Harriet was in awe of anyone who could create such beauty when she couldn’t so much a draw a straight line. No, he needed protecting only from the things that made him uncomfortable and unhappy, and made him feel less than he was, and Jasper must never feel that way ever again.
Perhaps he felt the weight of her gaze, for he turned to her then, those incredible turquoise eyes fixing on her, and the depth of emotion she saw there turned her heart inside out. He smiled and squeezed the hand he held, and Harriet squeezed back, wanting to kiss him so badly that she very nearly missed the next words….
“Jasper Augustus Louis Cadogan, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
Harriet held her breath as Jasper smiled at her, a smile that knocked the air from her lungs and filled her heart with every dream she’d ever dared dream since she was a little girl.
“I will,” he said.
***
“Where are you taking me?”
Harriet looked over her shoulder at her husband and grinned.
“It’s a surprise,” she said, laughing at his delighted expression.
They’d slipped away from their guests at Harriet’s insistence, not that Jasper had taken much persuading. She led him across the gardens, her slippers growing damp in the grass as the warmth of the day departed with the sinking sun. It glowed now, streaking the sky with gaudy blazes of pink and orange, setting the lake aflame as it reflected the startling colours back at them.
Harriet admired the scene. “How beautiful,” she said, smiling as Jasper slipped his arm about her waist.
“Is this your surprise?”
She laughed and shook her head. “Sadly, my talents don’t run to organising such a show for you, though I would if I could. You deserve such magnificence.”
Jasper snorted and pulled her closer. “Stop,” he said, cupping her face in his hands. “I shall become impossible if you keep saying such things. I shall long for one of your set downs if you keep on.”
Harriet’s smile fell, and she buried her face in his waistcoat, clutching her arms about him.
“Don’t,” she said, her voice muffled. “I can’t bear to remember all the stupid, hateful things I said.”
“Ah, love,” Jasper said, kissing the top of her head. “I goaded you to it more often than not, and we both know it. We’ve both been foolish. I ought to have trusted you enough to know you’d never judge me in the way I feared. You always knew I wasn’t as clever as you, and you always took time to explain things without making me feel a fool. I underestimated you because of my own pride and that’s my fault, not yours.”
“But you are clever, Jasper,” she said, clutching at his lapels and wanting to shake him for thinking otherwise. “That’s the point. I always knew you were, and that’s why I was so angry with you. I thought you were just wasting your talent through laziness and now… now when I know how hard you must have worked….”
To Wager with Love (Girls Who Dare Book 5) Page 20