A Hero for Miss Hatherleigh

by Carolyn Miller

  His thoughts shifted to another of God’s miracles: Aidan’s assertion that Miss Hatherleigh owned faith. His heart had eased at that news, as if the acknowledgment that she shared his faith had finally loosed the constraint he’d sensed between them. He was desperate to know more, but such questions had been buried amid later rejection.

  Shaking off his moroseness, he focused on another positive—the fact that Aidan had convinced James he should marry Emma. Emma’s joy at finally being reunited with the man she had long loved was enough to melt any of James’s misgivings, and the fact that it could be done so quietly was another benefit, he knew.

  But the benefits of past weeks, though glorious, seemed unsatisfyingly few. The joy of discovering the ichthyosaurus had been transitory, Gideon’s pride at being visited by members of various natural history societies proving a mere illusion compared to his heartache at losing the chance to court the woman he had hoped to marry.

  He still could not fathom how Caroline had misunderstood. Had he been too opaque in his words? Aidan said he had; even Emma had decried Gideon’s lack of affection in his manner. Gideon had tried to offer excuse by way of saying that Miss Hatherleigh would not wish to be improper. But he’d been laughed to scorn, and memories would arise of her desperation that last night, when she’d flung those words at him, her blue eyes ice cold as she declared herself scandal-plagued enough to flee to the colonies.

  The day after the Pratt encounter, his efforts to present himself to her mother as a suitor had been met with flat refusal. He had barely opened his mouth to speak when she had cut him off, launching into a litany of his faults. Lady Aynsley held a strong resemblance to her daughter, but where Caroline’s features grew soft with understanding he feared her mother’s never had. The viscountess had instead been bitter and thorough in denouncing his antics, his antecedents, and his manner of dealing with her daughter. Such harsh words spoken had raised his mettle to a point where he had been perhaps too plain in his speech also. But it had been her last words—that Caroline’s mother could not wish her daughter beholden to a man Caroline could not love—that had cut the deepest.

  And Caroline’s refusal to answer his letters had only confirmed his worst suspicions: that Gideon had hurt her, hurt her so deeply she could never forgive him.

  The cab rounded a corner and drew to a standstill in front of the tall town house belonging to Kenmore’s father. Gideon would usually stay at his brother’s London home, but Emma had insisted on Gideon staying with them.

  He paid the driver and exited, walking quickly up the steps and entering the front doors. A quick enquiry revealed his sister had retired hours ago—she was feeling tired—and that Kenmore had not returned yet from his visit to a ball tonight.

  Feeling too agitated to retire, he strode to the drawing room and settled into a comfortable sofa with today’s news sheet to await his new brother-in-law.

  He was about halfway through when Aidan entered the room, looking especially dapper in evening dress.

  “And here he be, tonight’s guest lecturer. How was your evening?”

  “Tonight went well, I think. People were responsive. I was a little concerned some might oppose me for offering an alternative to more traditional views, but one cannot deny what has been seen with one’s eyes, can one?”

  “No,” Aidan said, his own eyes gleaming, a strange smile lurking around his mouth. “One most definitely should not dismiss what one sees with one’s eyes.”

  He sat opposite, stretching his legs in front of him, studying Gideon with that curious expression.

  “What is it? You keep looking at me like a cat that’s got the cream.”

  “I don’t mind admitting that I feel like a cat that has got the cream.”

  “And what cream is that?”

  “Tonight’s ball saw one Lieutenant Colonel Hale being courted by those who, until recently, I believe, thought him to be something of a loose fish. One of these runaway marriages that appears to have worked out, and now all is forgiven.”

  Gideon eyed him, a faint frown pushing between his brows.

  “Now, now. There is no need to look at me like that, dear fellow. It’s not as if I needed to resort to such an ignominious start to wedded bliss.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Yes, you should be. Not that I didn’t think about it.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, yes, I thought about it. Wished I could have contrived some way of undoing time so Emma could have been whisked to safety before another stole her away. But what’s done is done and cannot be undone.”

  “True,” Gideon said, his spirits sinking as he studied the news sheet blankly. If only he had not made such a mess of things … Tightness filled his chest again.

  “Saving, of course, when it can.”

  He peered up. “I beg your pardon?”

  Aidan grinned. “Really, my friend, have you been drinking? You really should not if it affects your ability to reason.”

  “I rather think it is your cryptic comments that are leading to my state of confusion, because, as you well know, I have certainly not imbibed.”

  “Then perhaps it is the aftereffects of your knocks on the head.”

  “Or perhaps it is simply the enigmatic nature of your remarks. I wish you would tell me plainly what it is you wish to say.”

  Aidan laughed. “You rather put me in mind of someone else I had the pleasure of speaking with tonight.”

  “Clearly someone of good sense, if they, too, struggled to understand your meaning. Who?”

  “Miss Caroline Hatherleigh.”

  His chest tightened, his pulse increased. “Well, how is she? Does she look well? Does she—” He swallowed. How could he ask the questions whose answers he really wanted to know?

  “She seems well, yes, and quite recovered from the ordeal.”

  “Thank God.” The cords binding his heart loosened a notch. “Did she, by chance, mention Emma at all?”

  “Yes, she did, and then congratulated me on my good fortune.” Aidan chuckled, green eyes mocking. “If that is your none-too-subtle way of asking if she mentioned you at all, then no, she did not.”

  His spirits plummeted. He knew it was too much to ask, but a tiny part of him still wanted to believe he’d held a tiny corner of her heart.

  “You’ll be pleased to know that I, on the other hand, did.”

  “You spoke about me?”

  “Of course I did! Who else do you think we would talk about? Poor Prince Leopold? As I’m not personally acquainted with the man I find it hard to exchange much conversation concerning him. You, on the other hand, I will always have much to say about. And share.” He grinned mischievously.

  Gideon groaned. There was much Aidan could say; much he probably shouldn’t say. “Such comments make me tremble with trepidation.”

  “Truly, that is most unfair. I cannot be held responsible for your unfortunate feelings.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I simply expressed something of what you said to me after learning of her removal.”

  Oh no. “I hope you didn’t say everything of what I said to you—in confidence.”

  Aidan waved a dismissive hand. “The merest trifle, I assure you.”

  “You know I wish I could have spoken to her, that I knew I should have, despite her mother’s objections. But I could not very well force my way inside. And then before I knew it she was gone. I couldn’t leave Emma’s side, and then, when she began to improve and my letters to Miss Hatherleigh were returned to me, I began to question what I thought I knew, that I could never presume …”

  “I know your scruples do you credit, but you should not always adhere to them.”

  His fingers clenched. “What did you say?”

  “I merely ascertained how such matters were perceived by her. It would appear she was misled by certain things said on the night of Pratt’s visit. Not that I was privy to all that was said, being unconscious, you understand.”

&n
bsp; Hope flickered in his heart. But still, his indignation needed venting. “I cannot believe you discussed such things with her!”

  “Well, you certainly would not have.”

  “No, and for two very good reasons. Her mother refused to entertain my suit, and I would not have Miss Hatherleigh feel compelled to marry me simply because she felt society had forced her to. I—” He stopped himself from saying love. “I care for her far too much to have an alliance made in such a way.”

  Aidan shrugged. “Then perhaps you won’t mind knowing what she had to say.”

  He swallowed. “What did she say?”

  “You’ll be pleased to know”—he waited, a catlike grin tilting his lips—“that she said much the same.”

  “What? That she did not want to marry me simply because society thought she should? Well, that makes me very glad indeed,” he said sarcastically.

  “Erasmus Gideon Kirby Carstairs! Really, this temper of yours needs to be better controlled. How on earth has your dear sister coped?”

  “My dear sister did not go out of her way to be provoking, that’s how she coped.”

  “Are you by any chance suggesting that I do? I am mortified.”

  “Do you have anything else to add, or am I supposed to thank you for burying my hopes?”

  “Hopes, is it?” His eyes glinted. “Really, Gideon, you should be more careful about what you say.”

  “I am not the only one,” Gideon muttered. He said in a louder voice, “So there is nothing further. Well, thank you, but I must retire—”

  “Not so fast,” Aidan said, leaning forward to clasp his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip. “I thought you might want to hear the rest of this.”

  “I thought perhaps I would also, only you never got around to saying it.”

  “Forgive me. It is simply this: Miss Hatherleigh assured me she would not be opposed to your suit if she knew it was not made from societal obligation but rather engendered from … warmer feelings, shall we say.”

  His pulse spiked. “She told you this?”

  “Yes.” Aidan smiled complacently, flicking at a speck of dust on his coat of superfine.

  “Or did you have the effrontery to ask her this?”

  Aidan opened his eyes in a look that somehow mingled mischief with hurt surprise. “Do you truly think me capable of such solecism?”

  “Yes.”

  He sighed. “I am forever misunderstood.”

  “You are forever meddling.”

  “But are you not pleased by my efforts? Now at least you know you can pursue your young lady and you shall not be rebuffed. At least, not by her,” he added thoughtfully.

  “But rebuffed by her parents.”

  “Perhaps,” he shrugged. “Perhaps not. I still cannot understand why you did not present Lady Aynsley with all the facts when given the chance.”

  “But I did.”

  “To Miss Hatherleigh’s mother?”

  “Well, no. I never got the chance. I did admit all to her grandmother. I assumed she would mention my connections.”

  “It would appear she did not. Perhaps, dear friend, if you were to avail Miss Hatherleigh’s parents of such information, you might find a different response. It’s not as if you come completely titleless or unendowed. I imagine it cannot hurt your cause to have a marquess for a brother.”

  “You think these things are important to her parents?”

  “Indubitably.”

  “But I do not have the estates, or any fortune.”

  “But you do have a house, and a tidy competence, as I recall.”

  He sighed, memories of his last encounter with Caroline’s mother rushing through his mind. He would have explained, had she given him opportunity to speak. “How did her parents seem?”

  Another shrug. “Like most parents of unmarried girls. Eager to encourage a young man’s attention, yet aiming for the top of the trees.”

  Exactly. Somewhere he would never be.

  “You know, now I recall a certain Mr. Amherst dancing with your pretty Miss Hatherleigh.”

  His fingers clenched.

  Aidan laughed. “Ah, but if you be too shy to chase her, then it would be a grand shame to let her sit on the shelf all alone. Not when someone could offer her his name, and he be a family friend and neighbor.”

  “She doesn’t love him,” he gritted out.

  “Perhaps not, but give them time. Somehow I do not think he possesses the necessary scruples to be concerned about the niceties of cutting my dear friend out.”

  “I know you are funning, but I do not find this amusing.”

  “And neither do I like the thought of my friend sitting on his hands when he has a young lady practically begging him to find courage to pay his addresses.”

  Gideon swallowed. “You think I lack courage, do you?”

  “I think you possess too many nice notions, and if you only ever play by the rules then you will be hurt as surely as if you play with none. Wouldn’t you like to know what possibilities may be, rather than wish you had tried but never attempted the thing? If you could just speak with her, find out from her own lips and give yourself a chance rather than taking yourself out of the game before it even begins, then you can worry about the parents and what they may say. You may find that they don’t mind her being married to a marquess’s brother after all.”

  Gideon sighed. “You are quite the Machiavellian, aren’t you?”

  “I’ve already been told I’m abominable tonight, so I suppose that is something of an improvement.”

  A chuckle escaped despite himself. “Miss Hatherleigh?”

  “The very same.”

  “She knows you well.”

  “Don’t sound too cocky my friend. She has said the same about you.”

  “Has she?”

  “Oh, yes. But that was before she admitted that she found such a person rather appealing, so I gather from that remark that there is hope for me yet.”

  Gideon threw a cushion at him. “You truly are abominable.”

  “I know.”

  And they shared grins, and started to plan Gideon’s attack.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EİGHT

  CAROLINE HAD JUST concluded her shopping in the bazaar when she was hailed by a voice from a passing carriage. “Miss Hatherleigh!”

  Caroline turned and saw Lady Heathcote. Her heart sank, she made her curtsy. “How are you?”

  “Very well, thank you, my dear. Tell me, is your dear mother with you?”

  “She is just inside with Cecilia, finishing up their shopping.”

  “Ah, good. I wanted just a quick word with you while she is busy. I hope you don’t mind?”

  Caroline gritted her teeth in a polite smile and acquiesced, obeying the gestured summons to climb up into the landau.

  The older lady said in a hushed voice, “It is about your time in Devon.”

  What a surprise.

  “I simply could not believe it when I read it in the papers! To think, a dear neighbor of mine embroiled in such an adventure! Now, tell me all, how is the young man? Did he recover, or was he left with irreversible injuries?”

  Caroline stared at her. Had she not heard about the more recent mishap in Sidmouth? Not that she would tell her. Disgust churned within at the ghoulish gleam she could see. “I believe he is quite recovered,” she said carefully.

  “Oh.” Disappointment filled her faded eyes. “Well, I suppose that is for the best. Has he come to pay his addresses to you? I imagine it is not quite the way one would wish to receive a marriage proposal, but when such a misfortune occurs, one must be prepared to do what is right.”

  Caroline swallowed. How could she answer this, when she had no answers, and even less desire to give further fuel to this wicked speculation? She knew Verity would offer a blunt assessment of Lady Heathcote’s nosiness; that Cecilia would shrivel into a pink ball of fluster and confusion. But what could she say that would be true and yet still allow her to behave in a manner befitting a daught
er of Aynsley? Lord, give me wisdom.

  “Lady Heathcote,” she said slowly, “I must beg for your forbearance in this matter. You see, I have no desire to be the scuttlebutt of society, and I am sure you, as such a good friend of our family, would have no wish to see my affairs talked over as if I meant nothing more than a person unknown to you. You would not wish that, would you?”

  She gazed into the faded eyes, gladdened to see the surprised chagrin in the dilated pupils, before Lady Heathcote nodded vigorously. “Well, of course I would not wish you to be subject to such things. How dreadful some people are, gossiping about people they do not know.”

  “When it is far preferable to gossip about people we do know, is it not?” Caroline said sweetly.

  “Exactly,” Lady Heathcote said. “Which is why I simply must ask—”

  “Please, do not let me keep you,” Caroline said, opening the door and stepping down. “I’m sure you have many important and productive things with which to fill your day. Goodbye.”

  Lady Heathcote blushed and stuttered her excuses, releasing Caroline to catch her breath and school her countenance as she moved to wait within the Aynsley carriage. Her mother and Cecy soon arrived, shoving various bags and hatboxes at the footman before accepting help to ascend the carriage steps.

  “Caroline? You seem a little flustered,” Mama said, peering at her.

  “Lady Heathcote wanted a word.”

  “With you?” At Caroline’s nod, Mama sighed. “One can only guess why.”

  “She wanted to know all about my adventures in Devon,” Caroline confirmed.

  Mama eyed Caroline in her disconcerting way. “And did you share all about your adventures?”

  “Not quite all.”

  She nodded, as if satisfied, then gave the command to move.

  As the carriage jerked into motion, Mama studied Caroline again. “I suppose she wanted to know whether your reputation has been salvaged or not by a proposal from that ridiculous man.”