“It’s that sort of name, Mother.” Livy shrugged. “Why, you couldn’t have invented a better name for an explorer.”
“Still.” Father shook his head. “I find it most annoying that I cannot place the man. I didn’t think there was an accomplished explorer alive who was unknown to me.”
“According to Lady Blodgett, Sir Charles thinks quite highly of him.” Michael frowned. “I must confess, I too am bothered that I cannot recollect—”
“I know him,” Preston blurted.
At once all eyes turned toward Preston.
“Or rather I’ve met him. At a lecture, I believe. It was a long time ago,” he added in an offhand manner.
Preston had an annoying tendency to proclaim himself acquainted with every well-known personage whose name might crop up. Dulcie would have wagered her favorite gown that Preston had never so much as been in the illustrious explorer’s presence.
“Have you indeed, Mr. Drummond?” Thomas said with a cool curiosity. Apparently, now that Dulcie had made it clear Preston would not be joining the family, Thomas no longer felt it necessary to be anything more than polite. “Do tell us about him. What is he like?”
“Modest,” Preston said without hesitation. “And quite humble. He never speaks of his accomplishments.”
“Unless he’s lecturing, of course.” Dulcie cast Preston an overly innocent smile. “What was his lecture on?”
“Oh, you know. The usual topics well-known explorers expound upon. The unexpected pitfalls one can encounter. The need to be thoroughly prepared, that sort of thing.” He shook his head in regret. “It was a long time ago and I’m afraid I really can’t remember specific details. But I do recall he was most impressive.”
“Is he married?” Mother asked. A man’s marital status was always the most important point to Mother.
“The ladies said he was a widower, Mother.” Dulcie thought for a moment. “They mentioned something about his wife being lost in a jungle.”
Mother’s brow furrowed. “How very inconsiderate of her.”
“And precisely the reason why men pursuing the great unknown do not bring wives with them on such excursions,” Preston said in that all-knowing manner he had. “It’s dangerous enough for a man but for a fragile, delicate creature...” He shuddered at the mere thought of it.
“Come now, Mr. Drummond.” Dulcie adopted a casual tone. “Not all of us are fragile, delicate flowers. I know any number of women who would do quite well on an expedition to a jungle or a desert.”
“Nonsense.” He scoffed. “Women do not fare well in primitive conditions. Why, when Mrs. Livingstone went to Africa simply to meet her husband, it cost her her life.”
“I believe she died of malaria,” Father said.
“I daresay we are all exposed to equally deadly diseases every day when we walk the streets of London,” Dulcie noted. She wasn’t at all sure why she was pursuing this—she had never really considered women going on expeditions but the idea was surprisingly appealing. “I scarcely think the threat of illness is a good reason to keep women from accompanying their husbands if they so wish.”
“I fear I must agree with Mr. Drummond on this point.” Michael nodded. “Ladies have no place on journeys that take them beyond the reach of the civilized world.”
“Then you would never bring a wife along on any kind of exciting venture?” Livy asked.
“Absolutely not,” Michael said firmly.
Livy nodded. “You would leave your wife safely at home?”
“Without question but it’s rather a moot point, Lady Carswell,” Michael said slowly, “as I have no intention of ever marrying.”
“Ever?” Mother looked as if she had just been slapped. Hard.
“No.”
Dulcie’s stomach lurched.
Mother’s eyes widened. “Why on earth not?”
“A number of reasons.” He paused and studied his plate for a moment then looked at Mother, steadfastly avoiding Dulcie’s gaze. “My aunt Grace lived with us after my mother died because my uncle was so rarely at home. I still distinctly remember how hard it was for her to say goodbye to him, never knowing when or if he would return. And then, of course, he didn’t. Until the day she died, she never gave up hoping that he would come back to her. That hope sustained her but ultimately hastened her death.”
“Oh my,” Livy murmured.
He shook his head. “I could not do that to a woman I cared for. The life I have chosen, one of exploration and discovery, requires commitment as well as personal sacrifice. I expect to be gone from England more than I am here. It seems neither right nor fair to pledge my life to someone and then go off and leave her to fend for herself.”
“Excellent reasoning, Mr. Shepard,” Father said thoughtfully. “I think that’s wise of you.”
“I think it’s stupid,” Dulcie said before she could stop herself. Michael’s gaze shot to hers. “And somewhat cowardly.”
Michael’s brows drew together.
“Come now, Miss Middleworth,” Preston said in a chastising manner that set her teeth on edge. “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”
Dulcie’s gaze remained locked with Michael’s. “The truth is often harsh, Mr. Drummond. Don’t you think so, Mr. Shepard?”
Michael nodded. “And exceptionally difficult to accept.”
“Perhaps if one had more than just the courage of one’s convictions—”
Mother gasped.
“If one had faith in, well, in love, the truth might be entirely different.” Dulcie shrugged. “If, of course, one had the courage to follow one’s heart.”
“Or perhaps—” Michael’s words were measured “—if one was selfish enough to think only of oneself. I have always thought the very definition of love was caring more for someone else than you do for yourself. Being willing to sacrifice your own happiness for the sake of someone else.”
“It has been my observation that unyielding adherence to any particular position, no matter how noble the intentions, Mr. Shepard,” she said in a hard tone, “rarely results in happiness. Mr. Dickens’s Sydney Carton had the noblest of intentions and yet the saddest of lives.”
“Do you think Mr. Everheart is in London now?” Livy said without warning, abruptly changing the subject.
Dulcie’s gaze shot to her sister’s and a warning shone in Livy’s eyes. Dulcie drew a deep breath and managed a pleasant smile. “Do forgive me, Mr. Shepard. I’m afraid I am overly fond of a good debate. Even if the topic is not one I have a particular interest in.”
He stared at her for a moment and smiled slowly. “It was my pleasure, Miss Middleworth.”
A minute later Mother declared dinner at an end and the ladies took their leave. Preston hurried into the gallery after them. “Dulcie.”
She turned toward him. “Yes.”
He moved close and spoke low into her ear. “I think we should talk.”
“If you’d like a moment,” Mother said hopefully, “you can join us in the parlor when you’re finished.”
“I’ll wait for her,” Livy said with a pleasant smile. “I’ll just sit over here.” She moved to a bench along the wall a few feet away and sat down. “You go on ahead, Mother.”
A distinct look of defeat crossed Mother’s face and she sighed. “No, I’ll wait, as well.” She joined Livy and the two of them pretended not to listen.
“We have nothing to talk about, Preston,” Dulcie said quietly.
“Of course we do.” He frowned. “I realized after I left the other night that you couldn’t possibly have meant what you said, and your mother agreed.”
“On the contrary, Preston, I meant every word of it.” The man was nothing if not persistent. She braced herself. “However, you apparently did not.”
“I said nothi
ng I do not stand behind,” he said staunchly.
“I believe you said if you walked out the door you would not return. And yet—” she shrugged “—here you are.”
“I was invited.”
“Not by me.”
His eyes narrowed. “Your mother knows what a mistake you are making.”
“And yet, it is my mistake to make.”
“Very well then.” He sniffed. “I regret to inform you, Miss Middleworth, that any further involvement between the two of us is at an end.”
“I shall try to bravely carry on.”
He huffed, turned on his heel and strode down the gallery to the entry where a well-trained footman showed him the door.
She stared after him and released a long breath. “How much of that did you hear?”
“You were speaking exceptionally low,” Livy said, “but I think we managed to hear most of it.”
She turned toward her Mother. “Mother—”
“Don’t say a word.” Mother held out her hand in a long suffering manner. “I cannot believe—” she shook her head “—what an ass that man is.”
Dulcie and Livy stared.
“Are you all right?” Livy asked cautiously.
“Quite, thank you dear.” She met Dulcie’s gaze. “You have my utter and sincere apology. The man seemed so, well, perfect for you.” She heaved a disbelieving sigh. “But he’s an ass.”
“Mother!” Dulcie bit back a gasp. Mother did not use words like ass.
“I just don’t want you to be alone. I can’t imagine your being alone for the rest of your life.” She paused. “Your father and I drive each other quite mad nearly every day but I could not bear my life without him.”
“I understand and I do appreciate the thought but—”
A familiar light lit in Mother’s eyes. “Perhaps Mr. Shepard...”
“Mother!”
“I saw the way you looked at one another. I thought nothing of it at the time.” She glanced at Livy. “I attributed it to something in the cream sauce, but in hindsight...” She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.
“I would appreciate it if you would not continue to throw me in the path of every man who wanders by.” Dulcie glared.
“Nonsense.” Mother waved off the comment. “Not every man. That would be absurd.” She paused. “Every suitable man perhaps.”
Dulcie’s jaw tightened.
“It’s a pity Mr. Shepard’s family is not titled.” Mother sighed. “I did so want titles for all of my girls. But I suppose your choices are getting limited.”
“Mother!”
“His family is rich,” Livy pointed out.
Mother brightened. “There is that.”
“Stop it! Both of you!” Dulcie huffed and glanced into the dining room. The gentlemen were paying them no attention. Good. She really didn’t want either Michael or Father to hear this.
She crossed her arms over her chest and addressed her mother in her best no-nonsense manner. “You will not set your sights on Mr. Shepard—”
Livy nudged her mother wither her elbow. “She already calls him Michael.”
“Neither of you.” Her jaw tightened. While she was hopeful that he did indeed share her feelings, she had no wish to share that particular fact. “As for you.” She pinned her sister with a hard look. “Why was Mr. Shepard of all people invited to dinner here? Tonight?”
“I suppose it’s because Father likes to invite young men who are following in the footsteps of men he admires.” Livy adopted an overly innocent manner.
“Why Mr. Shepard?”
“I would imagine Father received some sort of recommendation.”
Dulcie narrowed her eyes. “From you?”
“Me?” Livy scoffed. Dulcie didn’t believe her for a moment. “I don’t belong to Father’s club.”
“I’m quite serious about this.” Dulcie’s gaze shifted between her mother and her sister. “I don’t want either of you interfering. Mr. Shepard and I are friends of a sort, nothing more. And you heard him—he does not intend to marry.”
Mother sniffed. “Utter nonsense.”
“Men change their minds all the time.” Livy shrugged. “They’re worse than we are.”
Mother looked past her then rose to her feet. “I believe the gentlemen are about to join us.”
Father stepped into the gallery, followed by Thomas and Michael.
“We decided to have our brandy in the parlor with the ladies,” Father said. “Unfortunately, Mr. Shepard has to be on his way.”
“I’m afraid so.” He nodded a bow to Mother. “Lady Middleworth, thank you for your gracious hospitably.” He turned to Father. “It was a most engaging evening, my lord. Thank you for the invitation.”
“You should plan on joining us again.” Father smiled and directed the group toward the parlor then paused. “Dulcie, please see our guest to the door.” He nodded and proceeded to the parlor.
“Of course,” Dulcie murmured.
Mother cast an anxious look at her youngest daughter then followed Father, Livy and Thomas in her wake.
Dulcie walked Michael to the entry then turned to him. “I’ll not apologize for what I said.”
He chuckled. “I did not expect you to. Although you did call me a coward. Again.”
“And indeed, while one can be terribly brave when it comes to facing physical peril, matters of, well, the heart are something else entirely.” She gazed up at him. In spite of the discreet presence of a well-trained footman in the shadows near the door, with very little effort Michael could pull her into his arms and kiss her. It would be highly improper and yet... Her pulse quickened. Would he?
“Matters of the heart?” His gaze met hers and the longing she’d seen at dinner was back, no doubt matching her own. “I suspect, Miss Middleworth, those are far more dangerous than anything one might encounter in even the most treacherous of environments.”
“Do you have that sort of courage, Mr. Shepard?” Her voice had the oddest breathless quality to it.
“Excellent question, Miss Middleworth.” His gaze slipped to her lips then back to her eyes. “Unfortunately, when it comes to matters of the heart, one cannot think only of one’s own desires. Therefore, one must maintain the courage of one’s convictions.”
“Michael.” She moved closer. There was no more than a breath of air between them. “I would—”
The clock in the hall chimed and the moment shattered.
Michael cleared his throat. “Once again, allow me to thank you and your family for a most enjoyable evening.” He nodded and moved toward the door. The footman immediately sprang into view, handed Michael his hat, then opened the door.
“Mr. Shepard?”
He paused and glanced at her. “Yes?”
“Will you be in the library tomorrow?”
“I’m not sure it isn’t wiser for me to continue my studies elsewhere.” He blew a resigned breath. “But yes, I will be there.”
She smiled slowly. “Good evening, Mr. Shepard.”
“Miss Middleworth.” He nodded and took his leave.
Her smile lingered long after the door had closed.
The footman bit back a grin.
She raised a brow. “Something to say, Miles?”
“The staff was not at all fond of Mr. Drummond, miss.”
“And you like Mr. Shepard?”
“He is not Mr. Drummond, miss.”
“Something to be grateful for indeed, Miles.” She smiled and slowly headed toward the parlor. She had a great deal to think about.
The man cared for her. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind. The only thing holding him back was his principles, his belief that his ambitions in life were unfair to her.
If she truly love
d this man, and she had no doubt about that either, why should she wait for him to do something? She was a capable, competent woman who could surely make him see he was entirely wrong not to acknowledge his feelings. Why, the best thing in the world for any man would be to have a wife. Whether or not that wife accompanied him, even in part, to the far recesses of the world was another question altogether and one that did not have to be considered at the moment. Now, she simply had to convince Michael to follow his heart rather than his handsome, bespectacled head. She wasn’t entirely certain how to do that but something would come to mind.
It was hard to fault a man for wanting to save a woman from the sorrow his aunt knew. For being too noble and gallant.
And very hard not to love him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DULCIE WAS ALREADY in the library, sketching the indecent baboon, when Michael arrived. She was spending entirely more time with this illustration than one would think necessary. He could have been here much earlier, it wasn’t as if he had slept, but it was impossible to get their exchange last night out of his head.
Was he really a coward when it came to matters of affection? Was his adherence to his principles nothing more than a way to avoid entanglement and possible heartbreak? Didn’t she realize keeping his distance from her was the hardest thing he had ever done?
Of course not. How could she possibly know how he felt about her? He’d been extremely vigilant in keeping his feelings to himself. Aside from a moment last night when her gaze had caught his unexpectedly and then another where he had come very close to kissing her, he’d managed to avoid letting his feelings show in any way. It wasn’t easy but kissing her would have been a dreadful mistake. One kiss with Dulcie Middleworth would surely lead to another and then he would be lost. Better not to know exactly what he was missing.
And, when it came right down to it, he had no idea how she might feel about him. Did she really think his determination to avoid involvement with a woman was stupid and lacking in courage? Were her comments prompted only by her enjoyment of a good debate or was there more to it? She did call him Michael after all. Was it a mere slip of the tongue or something much more significant?
The Rise and Fall of Reginald Everheart Page 8