The Gift of Love (The Book of Love 8)

by Meara Platt

  John chuckled. “I had to hold my wife back. Her hands were curled into fists, and she was ready to take down that blackguard on her own. But I am relieved you got to him first. He is no gentleman. I would not put it beyond him to hit a lady.”

  “Oh, John. Let us speak no more of that wretched man. Poor Dahlia has been moping around the house all day because of him. He isn’t worth all this attention.”

  “Indeed, he isn’t, Mrs. Farthingale.” But Ronan said no more as Dahlia, Heather, and their cousin, Violet, walked in just then.

  It was a struggle to tear his gaze from Dahlia. Even when despondent, she looked incredibly beautiful. While she had complained about the color of her hair and eyes, it seemed to him these features were among her finest assets. They complemented whatever gown she chose to wear, no matter the color. She looked stunning. The gown she had on now was dark blue and had no adornment other than a white fichu held in place by a cameo brooch pinned to the fabric at her bosom.

  Not that he meant to stare at her bosom, but it was impossible not to notice the magnificent swell of...

  Violet was grinning at him.

  So was Heather.

  Sophie and John exchanged amused looks.

  Blessed saints.

  “Good evening, Captain Brayden.” Violet was still grinning at him. “I hope you had a lovely day.”

  “I did,” he said with a nod and settled in a chair beside the one Dahlia had chosen. This met with a nod of approval from Violet. Oh, yes. She was going to help him out. Her matchmaking instincts were on fire.

  He could see why his cousin, Romulus, was wildly in love with her. She was a little bubble of champagne, charming and effervescent. Despite her striking beauty, she was genuinely warm and held no conceit. Violet also had one of the finest singing voices in all of England, but she never put on airs. In fact, she was ridiculously modest about her talents.

  Heather was the shy one in the family, but obviously felt more comfortable around him after yesterday’s incident when they’d both been trying to console Dahlia. “We had a quiet day at home,” she said. “Dahlia did not want to go out.”

  He turned to Dahlia. “Why is that?”

  She glanced out the window. “It was too cold.”

  “I see. Well, perhaps tomorrow then. I’ll come around in the morning and take you for a walk in the park. Do you think you will feel up to it?”

  She took a deep breath. “Of course. I am perfectly fine. Tomorrow will be perfect. Just perfect.”

  He turned to Violet and Heather. “Will you join us?”

  They gave enthusiastic nods. Dahlia’s maid would have served as chaperone otherwise, but these two were not about to pass up the opportunity to watch him and Dahlia together.

  Despite Dahlia’s protestations that she was fine, perfectly fine, he did not believe her at all. In truth, she looked quite sad. He had not expected her to be chirpy, but it rankled that she was still torn up about her old beau. “Then, it is settled.”

  He rose to leave, knowing he’d interrupted the family’s evening and did not wish to impose on them further.

  “Captain Brayden, do stay for supper,” Sophie said. “You are most welcome.”

  He glanced at Dahlia, not wishing to impose if she was not yet ready to accept his company.

  But Heather and Violet took the matter out of her hands with an echoing chorus of “Yes, please do.”

  He nodded. “Thank you, I will.”

  It would also give him the chance to quietly plan their next meetings. Since most of his days were taken up with work, and often his evenings were occupied with social engagements, they would not have many opportunities to get together to read the book.

  He would have gladly refused the social engagements if it were possible. But most of them were important for his work. A large part of his role as liaison was to make the connections necessary to secure funds needed for the navy.

  Dahlia was not likely to attend many of those affairs, so he had to set some time apart for her.

  They sauntered over to the dining room, and Ronan was surprised to note only eight of them sat for supper. In addition to the six of them was John’s brother, Rupert, and a maiden aunt.

  Hortensia Farthingale, the aunt, was a permanent fixture in their home. She was a bit of a curmudgeon and had no sooner taken her seat at the table than she began to eye him warily. “Another Brayden,” she muttered with a grunt and said nothing further.

  “A pleasure to see you again, Hortensia. You are looking quite lovely this evening.” He cast her a rakish grin, knowing he probably should not goad her, but the woman was a bit of a dragon, and he knew she would give back twice as good as she got. Her glance alone could cut any man down to size.

  In any event, if he teased her, it would only be gentle teasing.

  She believed all Brayden men were depraved, lusting hounds - thank you Romulus, Finn, and Joshua - but still enjoyed a clever wit and good conversation. He wanted her on his side as he courted Dahlia. Surely, his intentions had to be obvious to everyone, except for Dahlia, who had been kicked too hard to believe anyone would ever want her again.

  Rupert, he learned, often joined them for supper. His travels around the world to find new fabrics and bring them back to the Farthingale mills in England made it difficult for him to maintain a proper household of his own, he explained. “Besides, there is no hostess better than Sophie. I know I shall always find a good meal and the best company right here.”

  The soup course was served by the footmen, a hearty onion soup. They next dug into the main course, an excellent repast consisting of smoked trout, quail stuffed with apricots, roasted potatoes, leeks, and turnips.

  Ronan enjoyed hearing of Rupert’s travels, listening intently as he spoke of his more dangerous jaunts.

  “I often venture along the ancient Silk Road, or so it has been named, but it is too dangerous in certain spots to ever bring family or friends along. The mountains are quite rugged, bandits abound, and not all tribes are friendly to the merchant caravans that make their way along the road.”

  “Indeed,” John said with a shake of his head. “Our nephew, William, got caught in the crossfire between two warring tribes and was quite badly injured during their battle. Fortunately, he survived. But his wounds were quite serious. He’s George’s son. I believe you know my brother.”

  Ronan nodded. “The doctor? Indeed, I do. He saved my cousin James. He is a hero to my family.”

  Sophie smiled. “We’re very proud of him, even if Rupert and John are still miffed at him for not coming into the family business.”

  The two men laughed.

  Rupert raised his glass in a toast. “George has saved our hides often enough that we long ago accepted his decision and have been very grateful to him for defying us. To George.”

  Everyone raised their glasses and gave a chorus of “Here, here.”

  Hortensia was once again eyeing him. “And you, Captain Brayden. Have you had many adventures? You seem a little young to have done much in the war.”

  “Hortensia! Honestly. Do behave.” Sophie cast him an apologetic smile.

  He took a sip of his wine and then set the glass down before he replied to her question. “Indeed, I served mainly toward the end of the war. But I did see a little action at sea battling Napoleon’s naval forces off the Iberian Peninsula. I was given command of one of the smaller frigates, obviously being too young to be trusted with the finer ships of the line.”

  “How old were you at the time?” Dahlia asked.

  “I had just turned one and twenty...almost. Our captain was killed early on during one of our engagements. I was second in command, so I took over. The Admiralty decided to leave me in charge despite my young age and promoted me to captain. Our task after the war was to patrol the Mediterranean Sea along the northern coast of Africa and as far as the Aegean Sea. It was quiet for the most part. Not many skirmishes to be had. We were used mainly as a show of force or to battle pirates. Earlier this
year, I was called back home and assigned to Parliament.”

  “You do not look pleased about it,” John muttered. “But it is obvious the Lord Admiral has faith in you, or he would not have placed you in this important position.”

  He shrugged. “In truth, meeting constantly with these politicians is like having a daily tooth extraction. Very different from commanding one’s own vessel. I am used to giving orders and having them immediately obeyed. No questions asked. But in Parliament? No one listens unless it serves their purpose. It is often frustrating and thankless.”

  Violet nodded. “Romulus loves to be out at sea. I think that is his true home.”

  Ronan shook his head. “No, Violet. You are his home. You are his everything. Wherever you are, that’s where he longs to be.”

  “Crumpets,” Heather said in a whisper. “I hope I find that sort of love someday.”

  Violet dabbed at her eyes with her table linen. “Thank you, Ronan.”

  He turned to Dahlia, suddenly worried the conversation would turn her thoughts to Wainscott again. So he quickly resumed their earlier conversation and began to describe the ports of call he’d visited during his time at sea. “I’ve seen a bit of the world, at times under enemy fire. But it was interesting, nonetheless. Casablanca, Tripoli, Alexandria, Izmir, Thessalonica.”

  Heather’s eyes widened in delight. “Oh, how marvelous!”

  “But as I said, once the war was over, there was little for us to do but remind everyone of our presence. The most excitement we had was chasing down smugglers and pirates. Much as Romulus is doing now off the coast of Cornwall.”

  “Were you ever injured in battle?” Violet asked.

  He clenched his jaw, for this was not something he particularly liked to talk about. “A time or two. Nothing serious.”

  John eyed him curiously, obviously understanding what the medals pinned on his chest meant.

  “Sophie and I intend to travel someday,” the Farthingale patriarch said pensively. “But with so much going on with the family, we haven’t made any definitive plans. Do you have a favorite place of all the ones you’ve visited, Captain Brayden?”

  “They all have a charm of their own, and I enjoyed everywhere we sailed. It is almost impossible to choose just one, but if I were pressed, I would have to say Naples. There is something quite spectacular about that coastline.”

  Rupert nodded. “I quite agree.”

  “I would love to travel to Italy someday,” Dahlia admitted. “Greece, too. I could lose myself for months exploring the artistry of their ancient civilizations. The buildings, the fashions, the sculptures, and paintings.”

  “The food,” Ronan added. “Quite the best you’ll ever eat, present company excepted, Mrs. Farthingale. This quail is delicious.”

  Sophie laughed. “Mrs. Mayhew is a wonder. She’s been our cook ever since John and I were first married. I don’t know what I’d do without her. Perhaps we shall take her with us on our travels. Imagine the wonderful dishes she could learn to make on such a trip.”

  “Indeed,” Rupert said. “And I shall volunteer myself to test out every one of them when she returns. But in all seriousness, if you are ever to go anywhere outside of England, it ought to be to Italy.”

  He turned to Dahlia. “Their fabrics are quite splendid, too. The Italian velvets are magnificent, not only for their softness, shimmer, and warmth, but in the way the colors hold to them. The reds, blues, greens, all appear deeper and richer. The cloths themselves are made by hand by artisans in Florence and Verona. They weave on the same looms used back in the time of the Renaissance.”

  Dahlia was listening intently, drawn in by her uncle’s discussion.

  “The silks from China are also quite exquisite. Did you know the mulberry tree–”

  Hortensia groaned. “Rupert, you will put us all to sleep if you do not stop talking right now. I’ve heard your lecture on the origins of silk a thousand times and do not wish to hear it again.”

  But Ronan could see that Dahlia’s eyes were alight for the first time since his arrival. It was a bit of a blow to know that she found fabrics more fascinating than him. However, this was entirely the point of their reading that book together, wasn’t it?

  She had to learn to trust in love again.

  Dahlia set down her fork and turned to her uncle. “Uncle Rupert, I would be interested in learning more. Perhaps we can chat later if that is all right with you.”

  “My dear,” Hortensia intoned. “Do not encourage him. Once you get him started, he will never stop talking.”

  Ronan saw this as an opportunity to further engage Dahlia in conversation. “Have you had any formal training in art? You did quite a professional job decorating Holly and Joshua’s house. How did you manage it?”

  Ah, now she was smiling and radiant.

  “No formal training, but I think I have an eye for putting colors together.”

  He nodded. “You do.”

  Hortensia was not impressed. “Forgive me, Captain Brayden. But you are hardly one to judge. You wear the same uniform day in and day out. One color. Blue.”

  Gad, she could be a dragon. Did she not see how happy Dahlia was? Why dash her hopes? “I am not in the habit of looking at what I wear. But I do enjoy looking at the ladies, and I know what pleases me.”

  Well, perhaps that was not the impression he meant to give. He was no leering hound. He merely looked, as anyone else would, and this was all he did when around innocent young women. As for those not so innocent...he cleared his throat. There would be no more of that from now on. “The point is, my eye is always drawn to Dahlia. She always looks lovely. Elegant. Never garish or overdressed. Yet, always noticed. There is an art to it, is there not?”

  “There is.” Heather nodded enthusiastically. “I always ask her advice on what I should wear. She knows how to put things together beautifully.”

  Dahlia blushed. “Heather, you are my sister. You have to be kind.”

  “And what of me?” Ronan asked. “I think I qualify as an impartial third party. It isn’t mere flattery. It is a statement of fact. You have a talent for this.”

  Violet agreed. “Romulus and I have done little with our house. It is very much the way he first bought it from General Allworthy. I would have to speak to him about this, of course. But if he will allow me to make some changes, I would love your help, Dahlia.”

  “Any time, Violet. It would be my pleasure.”

  Ronan did not remain long after supper, but he was pleased and thought his visit went surprisingly well. Dahlia was smiling and chatting throughout, and obviously in better spirits. Of course, Rupert and his discussion of Italy and fabrics deserved the credit for that. The possibility of also helping Violet decorate her home put a sparkle in her eyes.

  It was a good first step.

  Dahlia walked him to the front door and remained beside him while Pruitt went to fetch his cloak. “Thank you, Ronan. I think I was a beast to Violet and my sister all day. I don’t know how they put up with me. But your visit cheered us all. I promise to be much nicer company for you and them from now on.”

  “I enjoyed this evening, too. Your aunt and uncle are quite gracious.” He noticed Pruitt approaching. “I’ll come around at ten o’clock tomorrow morning to pick you up. Is that all right? I have most of the day free except for a Parliament function in the evening.”

  “Yes, that’s perfect. We prefer to be up and about early in the day. I look forward to it.”

  “So do I.” He tossed his cloak over his shoulders and strode out before he gave into the urge to kiss her. She had been looking up at him, her eyes big and trusting, and her lips beckoning.

  She had him aching.

  But he forced his mind to his next problem. His mother, Lady Miranda Grayfell.

  What was she going to do to him when told he was moving out?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “How can you leave me, Ronan?” his mother said in her most theatrical tone, placing a hand over her heart
as she sank into her chair like a dying butterfly. They were in the parlor, and he’d caught her just coming back from the theater with friends.

  Obviously, she was mimicking one of the actresses from that play. Even for Miranda, her performance was over the top. He waited patiently while she finished her scene, hoping she would calm down and listen to him once she realized he would not respond to her high drama.

  Her friends had not stayed long, so he had taken the opportunity to draw her aside before she retired for the evening. “Am I to be abandoned in my dotage?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I am not abandoning you, Miranda. Besides, you are decades away from your dotage. And do you seriously believe any of your sons will ever leave you to fend for yourself if you were to become ill? We will always look after you. But it is time for me to go. You know it is.”

  He tried to speak gently because he knew it was hard for her. Yes, all her sons were grown. But until a few months ago, Tynan was the only son married and set up in his own happy household with his wife, Abigail.

  Then suddenly, Finn fell in love with Dahlia’s cousin, Belle, and married her. They lived close by, but he knew it was not the same thing as having them under her own roof. Miranda had yet to adjust to Finn’s departure when Joshua fell in love with Dahlia’s sister, Holly, and bought his own home.

  Now here he was, the only son left. “I want you to help me find a place. I don’t mind if it’s next door, but I need it to be my own.”

  “My baby boy.” She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief, but he knew it was mostly for effect.

  He rolled his eyes again. “Will you help me? I’m hoping we can start tomorrow afternoon.”

  She stopped dabbing her eyes, which were not tearing in the first place, and regarded him curiously. “Why the urgency? You are not thinking to bring your women into your own home, are you? Isn’t that what your seedier gentlemen’s clubs are for?”