Love Finds You in Annapolis, Maryland

by Roseanna White

  But if it was spirit he suddenly wanted, hers dimmed in comparison to Sena’s. If he admired strength, Alice’s would put hers to shame. If sweetness could lure him, then someone like Kate would be her superior. And if he sought beauty, there were many young ladies in Annapolis that outshone her.

  No matter what he might want, she would always fall short. She was naught but a spoiled young lady from a plantation, with no depth, no character to make her stand apart from the masses.

  Sena returned, Annabelle in her arms. “You two look as though you are getting to know one another, which is splendid. Now Alice can help us plan the next step with your Mr. Fielding. Shall we make him writhe with jealousy before you admit you still love him? There are doting gentlemen enough to assist with the task.”

  Lark stood when Alice put down the brush. “Emerson has never shown the least attention to how I pass my time—or with whom I pass it.”

  “Nor has he ever chased you down the streets of town, I imagine.” Habitual grin in place, Sena settled at the top of the bed, baby snug against her. “I knew he would come after you. So you ought to believe me on this too. He won’t show so little attention again.”

  Why did that ignite a fuse of panic? Lark stood, grabbed her nightdress, and then halted when Alice stopped her with a raised brow and motioned that she should turn around. Sighing, she pivoted so her dress could be untied in the back. “’Tisn’t so simple, Sena.” Her voice came out softer than she had intended. “There is too much between us. Too much hurt, too much neglect. Better to each start fresh, apart.”

  “Is it?”

  Lark looked to verify that the expression on Sena’s face matched that in her voice—cryptic—then moved behind the dressing screen. “Is it not?”

  Sena hummed. “If that were true, then Papa never should have gone to make amends with Edwinn.”

  “’Tis hardly the same.”

  “’Tis not so different. Except, of course, they had years of friendship behind them by the time they broke. And much longer apart than you and Mr. Fielding have. By your logic, then, they ought to have moved to separate continents.”

  Lark slipped the nightgown over her head. “But they didn’t intend to marry.”

  Laughter filled the room, both Alice’s and Sena’s. “Granted.”

  Lark reemerged, plucking her wrap off the chair as she headed for the bed. She sat near the bottom. “It is not a matter of forgiving wrongs. It is a matter of trust, and I don’t know that I can trust him. Not with my heart. Not again.”

  “Did you ever trust him with your heart to begin with?” Sena asked. Alice had moved to fold a discarded shawl but paused, obviously awaiting her answer.

  Lark opened her mouth, but it took her a long moment to wrap her tongue around an answer. “I would have. I wanted to. But I could never hold his attention long enough to show him who I really am.”

  Sena pressed a kiss to Annabelle’s head. “You have it now.”

  A turn as terrifying as his inattention had been frustrating. “But what am I to do with it? Now, when I’m not even sure I want it anymore?”

  Alice laid the shawl upon a trunk. “Treat him like any other man you just met. Become better acquainted with one another and decide whether or not a union would work.”

  With a long exhale, Lark nodded. “’Tis as sound a plan as any other, since he’s determined to dog my every step. I suppose I shall. Treat him like any other man.”

  Except he wasn’t any other man. He was Emerson Fielding, the one she had dreamt of all her life. The one who had made her hope. The one who had made her ache as none other could.

  “And if he hurts you again,” Sena said with glinting eyes, “then we feed him to the sharks.”

  Lark grinned and pulled her wrap a little tighter. Cap’n Mobcap to the rescue.

  * * * * *

  Emerson drew in a long breath of the crisp, late morning air and gave in to impulse. A whistle spilled from his lips. Perhaps his melody was nonsense, perhaps he had no better tone than usual, but what matter was that? The day was new, the sun was bright, and in a few moments he would be sitting across from Lark at Randel House.

  Yes, she was sure to frown at him. And if her reception was anything like her temperament when he delivered her back there yesterday afternoon, her only responses would be biting ones. Mr. Randel would do little but glare at him and send occasional, dagger-like questions his way. But neither Randel nor Lark had forbidden him from coming. Hope shone in that.

  Look at him, turning into an optimist. Wiley would be so proud.

  He reached the top of East Street and turned onto State House Circle with a spring in his step. When he bumped into another passerby, his whistle faltered. “So sorry, sir! I beg your pardon.”

  The man stumbled, slipped in the snow, barely caught himself with a cane. He drew in a quick breath, then let it out with obvious relief. “Quite all right.”

  Emerson grimaced when another step from the stranger proved the cane was necessary, not for looks. “Are you certain? I feel terrible—I was paying no attention.”

  The stranger smiled. He was a young man, probably only a few years older than Emerson, and didn’t look to be harboring any grudges. He looked rather like a man of some means and no cares. “No harm done. A fine morning for distractions, is it not? A sunny day in January is to be treasured, especially this year.”

  “Very true—still, I ought to watch where I am going when I round a corner.”

  “I had just stepped from the shop there.” The gentleman indicated the haberdasher to their right. “You could not have seen me.”

  They seemed to have been going the same direction, so Emerson put enough space between them to give the man room to breathe, but held up so they might walk together as long as their paths coincided. “Good to know I am not completely addle-brained. Though I would not put it past myself this morning.”

  The young man laughed and ambled along beside him. His gait was mostly sure, though he leaned a fair amount on the cane. A war injury, no doubt. “My thoughts were elsewhere too. I am on my way to fetch my sister from her friend’s house, and I was wondering what kind of giggling gaggle she and the other young ladies would have turned into today.”

  Emerson grinned. “As a man with three sisters, I can assure you it will be the most giggling gaggle of which you can conceive.”

  “Especially given the friends Kate is with.” He shook his head, fondness in the squint of his eyes. “I do not recognize you, though that means less than it once did. Are you a visitor to Annapolis?”

  “I am. Though I went to school here as a boy, so I know the town well.”

  “It is a lovely one to know.” The man paused to extend his hand. “I am Edwinn Calvert.”

  Emerson put his hand in Calvert’s and shook. “Emerson Fielding.”

  “Is that so?” Calvert’s smile moved into a grin. “Of Williamsburg?”

  He hiked a brow. “Correct. Have we met after all? I am afraid I cannot recall any Edwinns in the Calvert family.”

  “No, no. We have never met.” Calvert indicated they should continue walking, his mouth still hinting at that grin. “We have, however, some mutual acquaintances.”

  “Have we?” He tried to recall hearing anyone mention a Calvert so near him in age, but his memory came up blank.

  His companion chuckled. “I imagine we are both headed to them even now. I was a few years ahead of you at King William’s, also under Master Randel. It was with his family recently that I heard of you.”

  A knot cinched tight in Emerson’s stomach, effectively silencing the desire to whistle. “Then our other mutual acquaintance would be my betrothed, Miss Benton.”

  “Your former betrothed, if she tells the tale correctly. Yes.”

  The sun seemed to dim. Why exactly, he couldn’t have said. Obviously Lark would have met new people in Annapolis. Obviously some of them would have been young men. And obviously Annapolis had its share of young men who looked so well put to
gether and had such affable personalities.

  But couldn’t she have met those particular males after he arrived? When he could be sure no untoward looks were sent where they ought not be?

  He forced himself to smile. “I assure you I am making every attempt to remedy that ‘former’ and convince my beloved Lark to give me another chance.”

  “And yet her story revolved around the fact that she was not ‘beloved.’ From which sprang all the problems.” Somehow, Calvert delivered this without a grain of judgment in his tone. Perhaps a few ounces of challenge, though.

  Emerson’s optimism fizzled its way into a bubbling concoction of frustration and shame. She had told these people what happened—even this young man who was naught but a stranger. Was she so hurt she could not contain it…or so close to him already? Neither option portended well for him.

  His glance moved from the man’s cane to his placid face. He could hardly enter into a conversation concerning his heart with a man he literally bumped into on the street. Especially when the conversation could very well become heated, and he had no intention of dishonoring someone who still bore the mark of service to their nation.

  So he stepped onto North Street with a strained smile in place. “I am glad she has found such staunch friends.”

  “Well of course she has.” Now Calvert’s tone sounded simply factual. “She is a delightful young woman who combines wit with a sweet disposition—not to mention her lovely countenance.”

  Emerson came to an abrupt halt. He wanted to insist her loveliness was no business of Calvert’s, wanted to stamp his foot and declare like some petulant child that she was his.

  But then the quirk of Calvert’s brow reminded him the fault belonged to Emerson. He could not take his anger out on some other man for noting immediately what he had been blind to for years.

  Still. That didn’t mean he had to approve of the noticing.

  Calvert gave him half a smile. “I must confess it. I wondered what kind of fool would let her go.”

  Emerson’s fingers curled into his palm, and he bit back anger again. “Do you make a habit of antagonizing strangers?”

  “’Tisn’t my usual way, no.” Calvert chuckled as he said it. “These are special circumstances.”

  “Are they.” He wouldn’t ask why. He had a feeling he didn’t want to know.

  They kept walking, silent now. But Emerson found plenty of reason to scowl, thanks to Calvert’s contented little smile. What exactly had gone on between him and Lark? It had only been two and a half weeks since she arrived. Not enough time to form an attachment.

  Naturally, countless examples sprang to mind of friends who had ended up betrothed to women within a few weeks’ acquaintance. A few had even been maneuvered to the wedding chapel in that amount of time.

  But Lark had more sense than to make a commitment to another so soon, did she not? How could she possibly trust any emotions she might feel right now? She was far too…

  Oh, how was he to know if she was “far too” anything for anything? Blast his ignorance and idiocy. What if she had gone and fallen in love with the Calvert fellow, or someone like him? Was that what she meant yesterday when she said it was too late?

  His companion whistled a spirited tune, in perfect pitch and timbre, no less, and seemed to lean less on his cane as he turned toward number 19.

  Emerson huffed and followed him up the steps. The man might steal his music and put it to better use, but he wasn’t going to steal his bride.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Edwinn smiled into Mrs. Green’s welcoming face, especially when the housekeeper’s sunshine turned to a thunderhead upon spotting Fielding. He had no doubt the man was accustomed to warm receptions everywhere he went—it would do him good to realize that in this house, the friends were all Miss Benton’s.

  If Fielding hadn’t come for the right reasons, they’d soon discover it.

  Edwinn drew in a contented breath. “Good morning, madam. I trust my sister is still within, or has Miss Randel stolen her away somewhere?”

  Mrs. Green refocused her gaze on him and renewed her smile. “They have not escaped in pursuit of trouble so far as I know, though Sena has snuck past me before, heaven knows. Do come in, and I will show you to where they ought to be, in the parlor.” She ushered him in then stepped before the door again to glare at Fielding.

  Edwinn could hardly resist watching. He had been barred from this house long enough to know neither the housekeeper nor the master had any qualms about turning someone away.

  “You.” Mrs. Green wagged a finger at the visitor. “Mr. Randel may have said you might come, but be sure ’tis only so we can all keep our eye on you. You’ve quite a task ahead of you, if you intend to convince us you are not dear young Benton’s one lapse in judgment.”

  Fielding looked at a loss for words. “I…thank you for the warning, I suppose, Mrs. …?”

  “Green.” The housekeeper huffed. “I was introduced yesterday, was I not? What kind of mind have you in that handsome head of yours? First you toss aside precious Miss Benton, then you cannot even recall a simple name like ‘Green’?”

  Edwinn coughed to cover his laugh.

  Fielding shot him a quelling look, then sent an apologetic smile to Mrs. Green. “I do beg your pardon, Mrs. Green. Usually I have a fine memory for names, but I am afraid yesterday afternoon I was a bit distracted by seeing Miss Benton again.”

  She folded her arms over her ample chest. “A distraction that never would have happened had you not been a blockhead to begin with, sending her off as you did with your reprehensible behavior. What kind of tomfool has a picture of perfection like Miss Benton at hand all those years and does not marry her straightaway? Do you not know Poor Richard said, ‘A man without a wife is but half a man’?”

  Randel stepped from his study with a crooked grin. “He also said, ‘Ne’er take a wife till thou hast a house (and a fire) to put her in.’”

  Playful glint in her eye, Mrs. Green raised her chin. “‘A house without woman and firelight is like a body without soul or sprite.’”

  Sena bounded down the stairs, a book in hand. “Oh, I can play this game! ‘An undutiful daughter will prove an unmanageable wife.’” When everyone looked at her, she grinned and lifted a shoulder. “Well, ’tis the one I hear most often.”

  Mrs. Green rolled her eyes and rounded on Fielding again, going so far as to wag that finger right under his nose. “For you, Mr. Fielding, it all comes down to this wisdom of Poor Dick’s: ‘The proof of gold is a fire; the proof of woman, gold; the proof of man, woman.’ Our Lark’s mettle has been proven. Now ’tis your turn in the fire, and we shall see of what you are made.”

  To his credit, Fielding’s nod looked serious. “We shall. Let us hope Mr. Franklin was also right when he said, ‘After crosses and losses men grow humbler and wiser.’ I have lost what I ought to have treasured, and now I feel the burden. But I have learned from it, Mrs. Green. I have.”

  She conveyed a world of doubt and challenge in a single sniff. “We shall see, Mr. Fielding. Now, prithee, remove yourself from the doorway so I can shut out the wind.”

  Once the cold was forced back out, Edwinn unclasped his cloak and handed it to Mrs. Green, along with his hat. “Thank you, madam. Miss Randel, you have not sent my sister off on some adventure, have you?”

  Sena arched a brow. “Would I ever do such a thing without accompanying her myself? Fie, Mr. Calvert. I am far too selfish.”

  Randel chuckled and indicated the parlor across from his study. “Everyone is gathered in there, if you would like to join them, gentlemen. Mrs. Green, you forgot something.”

  Turning a bit, Edwinn saw that Fielding stood with his hat and cloak extended, yet the housekeeper sauntered away.

  “No I did not,” she said over her shoulder. “Let the man keep them, so if he steps wrongly, we can boot him out the faster.”

  “I would dock her pay, but she is family. One must make allowances.” Randel took Fieldin
g’s things, though his grin proved his approval of the slight. “Go on in, everyone, I shall join you in a moment.”

  Sena led the way, and Edwinn motioned for Fielding to precede him. In part because he disliked holding anyone up with his slower gait, but also, he must admit, because he relished seeing the reactions of those within when the newcomer made his entrance.

  No surprise showed on the ladies’ faces—they had undoubtedly heard the commotion at the door—but their expressions covered a range of emotions. Mrs. Randel beamed a welcoming smile as always, looking the ideal maternal image with the babe sleeping in her arms. Kate, upon spotting a stranger, focused her gaze on her hands and curled her shoulders forward.

  But Miss Benton’s face was the one he was most interested in, and the one that betrayed the most by showing the least. There was no surprise, no welcome, no acknowledgment at all. And hence no hope, no fears, no glimpse into her heart.

  The Randel boys barely looked up. Johnny glanced away from his book long enough to nod, but Mark and Will were far too engrossed in their game.

  “I am an eagle!” the youngest shouted, swooping through the open space as fast as his legs would carry him. “Beware, field mouse.”

  “Oh no.” Will made a show of scurrying away, albeit ever so slowly. “No, eagle, don’t take me to your nest.”

  “His what, now?” Randel entered the room with a raised brow.

  The boys paused, both thinking. Will was the first to squeal, “I have it—eyrie! No, eagle, don’t take me to your eyrie!”

  Randel nodded his approval, and Edwinn shook his head. Though his friend came from a family with means enough that he could have enjoyed a life of leisure, the man was a born teacher. “Tell me, Randel, when you were leading your men on marches, did you test them on their knowledge of the local flora and fauna?”

  Though Randel tossed him an amused look of reproach, Fielding laughed. “And if we answered incorrectly, he would make us carry those who answered aright on our shoulders for a mile.”