“Nor should you,” Henry replied. “I should’ve broken off the engagement long ago and damned the earls. Naturally you should marry Joanna.”
“Thank you.” Seymour’s charming lopsided smile spread across his face, and he suddenly clapped Henry in his arms. “God. Thank you, Blackwell.”
Henry hugged him in return and then stepped back. “Angrove won’t like it, you realize.”
Seymour winked. “Which is why we’ll present him with a fait accompli. I told Joanna to pack before I left her tonight. We’ll elope. I’ve bought a commission in His Majesty’s army, and I’ll at least keep a roof over her head until her father comes around.”
Henry shook his head. It was a wild plan, but if anyone could pull off eloping with an earl’s daughter it was Seymour. “Good luck. You’re going to need it, I’m afraid.”
“Thank you.” Seymour set down his glass and turned to the door before hesitating. He looked over his shoulder at Henry. “I just couldn’t vanish without making it right with you first. We are all right, yes?”
“Always,” Henry replied. “You’ll write to me should you need help?”
Seymour nodded and waved, and then he was out the door.
Henry swallowed the rest of the brandy in his glass.
The door to the library opened again and Kate stuck her head in. “There you are.” She entered and closed the door behind her, then leaned against it. “How are you?”
Henry shrugged. How to explain what it felt like to have your heart break? “Not good.”
She nodded pensively. “Mother’s weeping, and Becca is hiding in her bedroom.” She glanced up at him. “I quite liked Cecilia…or whoever she was.”
“Mary,” he said, and even saying her name made him feel a little better. “Her name is Mary Whitsun.”
Kate bit her lip. “What will you do?”
He sighed and put down his glass. “What I must. Where is Father?”
“In his study.” She backed away from the door to let him open it. “Henry?”
He paused, his hand on the doorknob, and looked at her.
She clasped her hands at her bosom. “Whatever happens, please know that Becca and Mother and I love you very much.”
“And I you all.” He took a step toward her and bussed her on the forehead, then looked into her worried eyes. “You’d best be prepared.”
With that he went to confront his father.
He found the earl pacing the cavernous expanse of his study—the room ran all along one side of the house and really ought to have been the library, but Father had long ago taken it for himself.
“I want you to call upon Joanna tomorrow afternoon,” the earl said as soon as Henry entered the room. “Bring her flowers and a small present. Be sure to take my carriage so that the Keating crest shows plainly. If we act promptly we can forestall much of the gossip.”
“There’s just one problem with that plan,” Henry drawled. “I’m not marrying Joanna.”
Father stopped and glowered at him. “Henry—”
“No,” Henry said quietly but firmly. “You can’t make me marry Joanna. You seem unable to acknowledge that. Perhaps it’s my own fault. I’ve submitted to this ridiculous arranged marriage all my life. It’s past time I quit.”
His father’s face filled with rage. “I’ll cut you off! You’ll lose your quarterly allowance, and I’ll lock you out of the heir’s house. You won’t have a cent to live on until I die, and I don’t intend to leave this earth for decades.”
“Indeed I hope you do not,” Henry replied sincerely. “And I made my decision with the full knowledge that you’d cut me off. I may lose your money, but I’m not without resources.” He turned to the door. “Good-bye, Father.”
“You’re insane!” the earl practically howled behind him. “What could possibly be worth losing so much?”
Henry turned to look at his father. “Love.”
He closed the door quietly behind him.
The next morning Mary sat in the Caire House garden, supposedly tending Annalise and Toby. In reality, both Mary Thames and the new nursemaid hired when Mary Whitsun had left Caire House were in attendance, making her presence redundant. Lady Caire had attempted to make Mary take a few days’ rest after…everything, but Mary had insisted on returning to her work. Lady Caire hadn’t demurred, but she hadn’t let the new nursemaid go, either.
Mary should feel insulted or worried about her position or…
Really she just couldn’t find it within herself to care.
“Mary?”
She looked up at Annalise’s soft voice and tried to smile at the girl. “Yes?”
“Toby picked a flower for you,” Annalise said. She had her brother by the hand and Toby was holding a wilting bunch of Michaelmas daisies. They looked as if they’d been torn from the plant.
Toby grinned up at her, his chubby cheeks scrunching his eyes nearly closed. “Mimi.”
Mary felt tears start at her eyes. “Thank you, Toby.” She took the proffered flowers from the toddler’s hand.
“Bob the gardener shall be ever so annoyed,” Annalise observed with big-sister honesty. Her expression became fiercely determined. “But I shan’t care and neither shall Toby. We want you to be happy again.”
Mary had opened her mouth to say something—she wasn’t sure quite what—when the back door to the house opened.
Henry strode down the graveled path, his face grave.
“Who’s that?” Annalise asked, while at the same time Mary Thames stood and said brightly, “Let’s go in for tea, shall we?”
“But who is he?” Annalise demanded, looking mulish. “Is he going to hurt Mary Whitsun?”
Mary hoped not, but she very much feared he would. She watched Henry near with the aching knowledge that he’d come to say good-bye.
She could live through this.
Mary Thames and the new nursemaid urged the children inside, and then it was just the two of them in the garden.
Mary twisted her hands together in her lap and tried to think of some pleasantry.
Henry dropped to one knee before her.
She blinked.
“Marry me,” he said, and she wondered dazedly if she’d sat in the sun too long. “My father has disowned me, but I have some monies from my mother’s uncle and a small house. It’s nothing like this”—he gestured behind him to the looming expanse of Caire House—“but it’s livable. I can sell my mares and the carriage, and I have a school friend in need of a secretary. I can work. We won’t be wealthy, but I’ll be able to afford a maid and a cook.”
“Henry,” she gasped. “You don’t have to sell your mares.”
“I do,” he said, clasping her hands and bringing them to his lips. “I do because I need you, Mary, now and forever. I think I wasn’t truly living before I met you—I was merely trundling along through my days. You woke me up, made me see the world in a fresh light. My mares are but property. You, you are my heart and soul. I love you.”
“Oh,” she said softly as the tears overflowed her eyes and ran down her cheeks. “Oh, Henry, yes.”
The words were barely out of her mouth before he was surging up and kissing her, there in the sunlight of the Caire House garden. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly as if afraid she would flee.
“Thank God,” he murmured against her lips. “Please never leave me, no matter how difficult the coming years. I’ll do everything I can to make your life perfect.”
“It already is.” She framed his face with her palms. “Because I love you.”
Epilogue
Well, that was all it took of course.
“Oh!” said Clio, even as the prince was calling for his guards and struggling back to his throne.
It seemed a good time to go, so Clio didn’t protest when Triton took her hand and ran out of the palace with her. They hurried back down the road and to the sea.
Once there, Clio dove into the waves, and immediately her land legs turned back in
to her beautiful fish tail. She laughed aloud and swam in a circle, swishing it about, until she suddenly realized that Triton was not with her. That was strange. Triton was always with her. Always protecting her. Hurriedly she glanced around, but he wasn’t in sight. She searched for him in wider and wider circles, all the while wondering how he could have swum past her. How she could have not seen him. Finally she swam to the palace of the Sea King, but Triton was not there, either.
Then Clio had a terrible thought. What if Triton had never followed her into the sea? She looked up through the waves and saw that the sun had begun to set. Clio swam as fast as she could back to the coast, as the light leached from the sky far above.
When at last she came to the coast, she saw Triton upon the sand. But something was terribly wrong. He lay collapsed, and he still had land legs.
“Triton!” she called. “Triton, come to the sea!”
For a moment she feared he might be dead. But then he lifted his head and looked in her direction. Gone was his coral complexion. Instead his face was gray and lined. His hair had gone gray as well. As she watched, he levered himself up on shaking arms and began crawling toward the water where she waited.
Clio couldn’t understand. Triton was the most powerful being in the seas, stronger than sharks and giant octopuses. What could have struck him down so low that he couldn’t even walk?
She called again, but Triton didn’t answer. He stared at her with his sea-green eyes and doggedly kept crawling toward her until at last he came to the waves. Even then, when the seawater lapped about his chest and land legs, he didn’t regain his fish tail.
Clio swam to him and cradled his head in her hands. “Triton! What has happened?”
But he didn’t speak. He simply looked at her…and rolled his eyes.
She began crying because the last bit of color was draining from his face. She lowered her head and kissed him, the salt from her tears mingling with the salt of the sea between their lips.
And as she kissed him, Triton took a great shuddering breath. Suddenly his land legs transformed back into his lovely fish tail, and the coral color came back into his face.
Clio looked at him in wonder. “What has happened?”
“It’s simple,” Triton said gruffly. “I made the same bargain with the Sea Wizard as you save for one difference: you had to kiss me by the end of the seventh day or I would die.”
Clio looked at him thoughtfully. “That is a perfectly silly bargain. What if I’d stayed with the prince?”
Triton shrugged. “I would have died, I suppose.”
She rolled her eyes. “I am glad you did not, for I’ve discovered that I love you.”
“In that case, I think you should marry me and come on grand adventures with me,” said Triton. “For I’ve loved you all along.”
So she did, and they lived quite happily ever after under the waves.
—From The Curious Mermaid
Three months later…
Mary had expected a small wedding. After all, she and Henry had been the scandal of the London season. She’d been certain that anyone with any sort of standing at all would stay well away so as not to become tainted with their disgrace.
As it turned out, she couldn’t have been more wrong.
“It’s a crush,” Jo said with satisfaction as she came into the little room at the Home for Unfortunate Infants and Foundling Children where Mary was preparing for her vows. Jo was now Lady Joanna Seymour, but she still wanted Mary to call her Jo. “Some of the guests have had to stand, there’s so little room.”
“Really?” Mary wasn’t exactly thrilled to hear this. “Who has come?”
“Well,” Joanna said as she sat, and began reciting with relish. “There’s my mother, my grand-mère, Mr. and Mrs. Makepeace.” She paused for thought. “I think there are two Mr. and Mrs. Makepeaces—confusing, that. Oh, the Duke of Montgomery and the Duke of Kyle and their wives—the Duke of Montgomery is standing with his darling little daughter on his shoulders and taunting any gentleman who comes near him. He’s quite awful, isn’t he? But so handsome!”
Jo drew a deep breath and continued before Mary could give her opinion of the duke. “Mr. and Mrs. St. John and all their children—I counted four, and I may’ve missed one. Of course Lady Hero and Lord Griffin and their offspring along with Lady Phoebe and Captain Trevillion—he’s quite dashing, isn’t he? The Earl of Paxton and his countess and the Earl of Ashridge and his wife—didn’t she used to be the famous breeches actress?” Jo shook her head, moving on. “All of the orphanage children, of course, and the elder Lady Caire. Henry’s mother and sisters are here, as well as that odd cousin of his—Richard Somebody?” Jo beamed at Mary. “And I don’t think that’s everyone, really. The main room is crowded.”
“Goodness,” Mary murmured. “Whyever did they all come?”
“Because they love you,” Lady Caire said.
Mary turned to her and saw that the older woman was smiling, somewhat misty eyed. “Really?”
“Yes, Mary Whitsun,” Lady Caire replied. “They’ve known you nearly all your life. Most of the women met you through the Ladies’ Syndicate. They watched you grow up at the home, and they know you from my house. You’re integral to the home. To all of us.”
“It’s true,” Nell Jones said. She was the home’s head servant and had insisted on coming to help Mary dress for her wedding.
It was Mary’s turn to have tears fill her eyes.
“Now, now, you mustn’t weep,” Lady Caire chided, though she was having the same problem. “You don’t want Lord Blackwell to see you with red eyes on your wedding day.”
“No.” Mary took a handkerchief from Nell and dabbed at her eyes. She wore a cream dress embroidered in palest rose and silver thread. It had been a wedding present from Lord and Lady Caire, and she did want to do it justice.
A knock came at the door and Nell let Mr. Winter Makepeace into the room. He was a severe-looking man with dark hair and eyes and plain attire, but Mary knew he ruled the home with a firm but kind hand.
“Are you ready, Mary Whitsun?” he asked gravely.
“Yes,” she said and took his arm.
He led her from the little room. Up the stairs. This was a different building from the one she’d mostly grown up in. That old home had been rickety and cramped and had burned down the same year Lady Caire had married Lord Caire. This building had been made from brick, the walls straight and neatly painted. Still they passed dormitory rooms full of little beds. That at least had not changed.
Mr. Makepeace paused before the door to the assembly room where she was to be wed. He looked down at her, and she remembered how large he’d seemed to her when she was a child. How commanding and inspiring. How he’d held her in his strong arms when she’d fallen and scraped the palms of her hands.
“I’m proud of you, Mary Whitsun,” he said now, this man who was like a father to her. “You’ve grown into a kind and good woman—everything I ever expected of you. I wish you every happiness in your marriage.”
She swallowed as her throat closed again. Oh, drat, she was going to cry!
He smiled and kissed her on the forehead. “Come. Your future awaits you inside.”
She took a deep breath as he pushed open the doors to the assembly room. Joanna was right: it was completely full of people, all of whom stood and turned. She saw friends she’d known for years and friends of only a few months’ standing. She saw the Earl of Keating—surprisingly—looking grumpy but standing with his wife, who was positively beaming.
But as she walked toward the front of the room on Mr. Makepeace’s arm, she looked only at Henry, standing with a small grin on his face as he waited for her.
Her future.
Her love.
That night…
It wasn’t a grand house. It wasn’t even a very big house.
But it was their house.
Mary smiled at her reflection in the small mirror hanging over the chest of drawers in her bedroom.
Her brown hair hung loose over her shoulders, brushed with one hundred strokes, and she wore a new lawn chemise, a gift from Lady Angrove. That lady had declared that she didn’t care that Mary wasn’t of her blood—Lady Angrove still considered her a daughter along with Jo and the real Cecilia, who had turned out to be quite nice.
She was looking forward to continuing to see the Angrove ladies, since Henry’s new job was in London. He was managing his school friend’s business interests here while his friend traveled abroad. And Henry had been right—his pay, while not extravagant, was more than enough for this little town house on a quiet London lane. He’d had to sell his horses and his carriage, of course, but he pointed out that he could walk to work, and anyway stabling horses was too expensive. Mary even had a maid—a girl from the home who looked at her with awe—and a cook who liked to sing as she baked.
There was a knock at the door, interrupting her thoughts. It cracked open, and Henry asked from without, “May I come in?”
“Yes,” Mary called, her fingers trembling with nerves as she smoothed them down her chemise.
Henry opened the door and stepped into the room, then stopped.
She could almost feel his gaze traveling over her from head to toe.
“Lady Blackwell,” he said, his voice husky, “have I told you today how beautiful you are?”
She bit her lip and shook her head, suddenly and unaccountably shy. How foolish! She’d seen Henry nearly every day of their engagement. She knew him and he knew her.
Of course they’d never had a wedding night before.
“You,” said Henry as he untied his neckcloth, “are more beautiful than the sun, the moon, and all the stars in the night sky.”
She could feel herself blushing. “Might that be a tad bit exaggerated?”
He knit his brow as if thinking. “No. No, I don’t think so.”
He drew off his neckcloth and placed it on a chair.
She couldn’t just stand there and wait for him.
Mary crossed to Henry and set to work unbuttoning his waistcoat. He’d already shed his coat.
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