The Marriage List

by Dorothy McFalls

  May deserved to own them.

  They were nothing more than a pair of simple baubles—naught but toys for adults. He must have lost his mind.

  “Please excuse me a moment.” He unhooked his arm from Lillian’s. “Wynter, please look after my sweet confection,” he said and graced his companion with an indulgent smile. “I believe I see an old acquaintance. I won’t be but a minute.”

  “But I would like to meet—” Lady Lillian started.

  Radford pressed a finger to her lips. “Not this time.”

  “Don’t be too long, Evers,” Wynter said rather impatiently. “We’ll wait for you at the landau.”

  With a jaunty step, which was quite a feat considering the pains in his swollen foot, he returned to the gypsy caravan and purchased the two remaining figurines. A gift, he thought. Surely there was nothing improper with him wanting to give May a symbol of his gratitude. She had talked him into using his cane.

  That blasted cane. He dearly wished he’d overcome his pride and brought it with him to the fair. His concern over what Lady Lillian might think if she saw him constantly dependant on it had stopped him.

  “Buying your intended the other two ornaments, I see.” Tumblestone fell into step with Radford.

  “Something like that,” Radford muttered. Gentleman or not, he had no desire to converse with the old farmer. “Where is Miss Sheffers?”

  “She was happy giggling with those two silly hens. And I wanted to have a word with you in private.”

  “Indeed?” Private wasn’t an accurate description of the crowded Widcombe Commons they were crossing. “Wynter said he would look after all three of them? I’ll owe him for that. He is a bachelor who enjoys his women, but not all at once. And definitely not the marrying variety.”

  Tumblestone chuckled. “S’pose I envy him. We’re on the same quest, you and I. Here we are, two confirmed bachelors, and now marriage looms heavy on the horizon, does it not?”

  “Family responsibilities require it.” Radford stiffened. He had no desire to have this discussion with Tumblestone. Morbid curiosity forced him to ask the question though, “Why would you wish to change your ways?”

  “You could say the right offer came along.” A curious expression darkened Tumblestone’s stark features. He had the smug look of a man emerging from a gambling hell with his pockets filled with blunt and a deck of marked cards tucked up in his hat.

  “I see,” Radford drawled.

  “I am afraid you might not,” Tumblestone said. “I have watched the way she looks at you.”

  “The way she scowls, you mean?” Radford used his devil-may-care tone. He’d spent many years perfecting his roguish manner and could call it up at will. “Miss Sheffers would wish to curse me, I’m afraid.”

  “You don’t believe that, do you?” For a thunderous moment Tumblestone reminded Radford of his father. He half expected the man to cross his arms and sigh. “She has developed feelings for you, the foolish girl. I don’t appreciate your encouraging her unschooled impulses. I don’t know what you have in mind, but she will not be your mistress.” Tumblestone raised a large fist. The old man possessed a workman’s strength and could no doubt hold his own in a fight.

  Radford had no desire to test his mettle. “You mistake my intensions, sir. I do not even find the imp attractive.”

  “Forgive me, my lord.” Tumblestone backed down immediately. Apparently the frosty glare and the little lie did the trick. “I meant no disrespect. Just—and I’m sure you can understand—I am unable to give Miss Sheffers the discipline she sorely needs until after the marriage. I must woo her . . . win her trust. But she is such a flighty, empty-headed chit. She sorely tries my patience, I’m afraid. Fortunately, there is nothing about her that a heavy hand cannot correct.”

  Merciful Heavens. And Radford had been worried about Tumblestone breaking May’s spirit? She’d be lucky not to be physically broken after just a few months living with this monster.

  Chapter 13

  “Please tell me you have some news for me about Miss Sheffers’ situation,” Radford said in place of a greeting as his man-of-affairs hurried into the study with a bundle of papers tucked under his arm. After having suffered a sleepless night, he’d sent a messenger to fetch Bannor at first light.

  He had to stop May’s marriage plans. He simply had to. If not for that blasted eviction letter, she wouldn’t have given a man like Tumblestone the time of day. She was an independent woman, lively and vivacious.

  The simplest solution to her problem was the very one that had kept Radford from finding sleep. Not because it was impossible, nor because it tossed logic out the window. Just considering it made his blood race.

  He could marry Miss Sheffers.

  “I wasn’t able to uncover much about the young miss, my lord. But I did learn some interesting things about her family.” Bannor adjusted the glasses on his nose and settled into a chair. He took his time organizing the papers in front of him on the desk.

  Radford had too much energy to sit still. Leaning on his cane, he paced the length of the room. His patience quickly ran thin. He didn’t have time for Bannor’s efficiency. “Well? Don’t hold me in suspense. What have you found, man?”

  Bannor fiddled nervously with his glasses again. “Just-just a couple of wills.” He scrambled his papers in search of a particular sheet. “I don’t have a copy of the documents, mind you. Just pieces of gossip from a boy I hired to glean information from the servants working at Redfield Abbey.”

  “Redfield Abbey?” Bannor’s thoroughness impressed Radford. He wouldn’t have thought to send someone to snoop around the Earl of Redfield’s servants.

  “Yes, my lord. I hope you don’t mind,” Bannor asked nervously.

  “No, of course not. What did you find?”

  Bannor cleared his throat. “Appears the Redfield ladies and the current earl rarely see eye-to-eye. When the earl severed ties with his youngest sister for marrying without his permission, his grandmother wrote him out of her will. She left her small fortune instead to this sister.”

  “And this sister is—?” Radford asked.

  “Lady Viola, Miss Sheffers’ mother. I still haven’t been able to uncover why these funds have been recently seized by the courts, but I have a niggling feeling the earl is responsible.”

  “Keep working on that, then.” Radford resumed his pacing. “And what else have you discovered?”

  “Another interesting story. The earl’s mother is still alive. And though very old and feeble by all accounts, she still possesses her wits. Not long ago, she and the earl had a falling out, and she changed her will, leaving Lady Winifred all her worldly possessions.”

  “All her worldly possessions? And what would that entail?”

  “Much more than a few diamond necklaces, it would seem. According to my source, the dowager countess holds ownership to a small estate in London and to a vast amount of farmland adjacent to the Redfield Abbey estate.”

  “I see.”

  “I don’t think you do, my lord. The property the dowager countess is so willing to give over to her eldest daughter accounts for more than half of the earl’s income. His lifestyle could change considerably upon his mother’s death.”

  * * * * *

  Uncle Sires’ manner toward May had softened considerably the next day. Though he still never smiled in her presence, his scowl was less defined.

  “I am pleased you enjoyed your outing with Mr. Tumblestone yesterday,” he said to her during a brief encounter at the Pump Room that morning.

  He was pleased?

  Nothing involving May had ever pleased her Uncle Sires. This was truly a momentous occasion. Though May had long ceased wishing for his approval, this small crumb thrilled her.

  She smiled like a dimwit as she took her turn around th
e Pump Room with Winnie. Everything would be perfect that morning if not for her aunt’s health. Poor, dear Aunt Winnie was feeling weak again today. She leaned heavily on May’s arm and kept her lips pressed tightly together.

  Iona and Lillian joined them as they approached the glaring statue of Beau Nash located at one end of the Pump Room.

  “You look absolutely bedraggled, Iona,” May gasped. Her friend’s hair was slipping from its pins and her dress was splattered with mud.

  “A wild horse nearly ran her down,” Lillian explained in that whisper soft voice of hers. “Just outside the entrance, no less. Mamma suffered a fit of vapors and had to be carried home in a sedan chair, the poor dear.”

  “Oh my,” May gasped. Horses could kill a person.

  “The wild beast reminded me of that monster Lord Evers had purchased. He’s going to sell that horse, you know. Mamma said he would. Said his mother heard him curse the vilest words and decry how it had nearly killed me.” She batted her eyes and looked immensely pleased. “He sent me a roomful of flowers as an apology.”

  A knife turned in May’s gut. “How wonderful,” she said. Her pleasure at her uncle’s approval faded away.

  “It was just a simple vase full of posies,” Iona muttered.

  “It was a rather large vase though. No matter, Mamma says he plans to offer for me. He is smitten. I don’t think I will give him an answer right away. I am only nineteen, after all. Perhaps I shall let him pine for a while and make him prove himself worthy of my interests.”

  May didn’t think she could listen to another word.

  “I’m so very happy for you,” she lied.

  * * * * *

  “There is more,” Bannor said.

  “More?” The thought of the earl’s sudden interest in marrying off his sister’s caretaker was chilling enough.

  “I took the liberty of asking around about Mr. Tumblestone. He is the fellow who has—”

  “Yes, yes.” Radford waved his hand. “I know bloody well who he is.”

  “Did you also know that some thirty odd years ago Lady Winifred had run away with Mr. Tumblestone? They would have been secretly wed over the anvil in Scotland if the earl hadn’t intervened.”

  “And now the earl is parading Tumblestone under his sister’s nose and forcing her dearest niece to marry the one man she once loved? That must be torture for Lady Winifred. How will that help him after his mother dies?” Radford resumed his pacing.

  “I don’t know, but there is rumor running through the servant’s hall that Mr. Tumblestone will receive a pretty penny for agreeing to take Miss Sheffers to wife.”

  * * * * *

  Lord Nathan Wynter bowed grandly and made a big show of greeting the women in the middle of the Pump Room. “The viscount sends his apologies. He had some pressing business come up this morning.”

  Lillian glowed and latched onto his arm. “How thoughtful, Lord Nathan. He didn’t want me to worry after him so he sent you, the considerate man. I will have to scold him for neglecting me, of course. Though I think I know what business he might be attending to.” Her gaze flitted to her empty finger.

  May could only watch with growing despair. To remain in Bath and be forced to feign happiness for Lillian and Radford’s nuptials would be more than she could bear. Heaven help her, she needed to escape.

  And Aunt Winnie needed caretakers more able than she. Her aunt’s steps slowed until they were nearly at a stop.

  Lillian, Iona, and Lord Nathan plodded forward and were drawn into a conversation with one of Lord Nathan’s acquaintances. Iona gave May a little wave before strolling on ahead.

  “Let me take you home,” May said, worrying over her aunt’s flagging step. “I have had quite enough for today myself.”

  “I am sure you have. Has that silly chit truly enchanted our Lord Evers?” Winnie whispered the question. For the briefest moment color flooded her aunt’s cheeks, turning them a healthy pink. She looked more animated than she had in days. “He’s more the fool than I initially suspected. What shall we do?”

  May’s heart dropped down and landed in the pit of her stomach. How could she tell her aunt that there was no hope for a relationship between her and the viscount? She led Winnie from the room and into the bright sunlight. The day promised to be as warm and inviting as the last—a sharp contrast to the storm brewing in May’s heart. They walked silently down the colonnade toward Cheap Street.

  “He has said we could remain in the cottage for as long as we want,” May said finally. “He said he was not interested our money.”

  “Oh dear.” Winnie picked up her pace and pinched her niece’s arm. “You haven’t done anything foolish, have you May?”

  May’s cheeks stung from a sudden rush of embarrassment. “No, Aunt, no. I would never.”

  Winnie sighed. “Has he asked you to?”

  “He says he doesn’t want me like that . . . ”

  “But?”

  “He kissed me at the Newbury’s concert.” May felt utterly wicked. A decent lady should never confess such a thing, not even to her loving aunt.

  Still, Winnie wasn’t satisfied. “And?”

  “And nothing. It was naught but a simple kiss.” A simply wondrous thing that had set her body on fire.

  “There is no such thing as a simple kiss between a young woman such as yourself and a man like the viscount. What shall we do?”

  The bright gleam in Aunt Winnie’s gaze was identical to the look Iona would get when she was hatching a scheme. There was trouble afoot. May needed to proceed with her plans with great caution.

  Uncle Sires was right. Aunt Winnie needed someone better able to care for her. Unfortunately she wouldn’t willingly leave May’s side unless she knew May wouldn’t be left alone and penniless. Marriage was the only logical solution.

  By all accounts, Lord Evers would be proposing to his Lady Lillian this evening. There was no reason for May to continue to torture herself. He was never a man she could ever hope to have. Her uncle had taught her that lesson only too well. Because of her birth—because of who she was, respectable society could never accept her. She was not a worthy candidate for such a fairytale marriage.

  And there was Mr. Tumblestone.

  He was willing.

  She would send a note around to her uncle. “Please don’t worry overmuch about me, Aunt. I am a sensible woman. Matters of the heart are problems for simpletons and fools. I am quite immune.”

  “Very well.” Winnie did not sound convinced.

  May would have to act before her well-meaning aunt could set a plan into motion. She would never own Radford’s heart. She didn’t need to, either. After tonight, her future would be set. There was truly no other viable option.

  “I will be happy,” she said, not at all confident she spoke the truth. “I promise, Aunt, I will be happy.” Marriage to Mr. Tumblestone promised to be a great challenge to those bold assurances of happiness.

  * * * * *

  “What about Miss Sheffers? Were you unable to find anything more about her background?”

  “Besides the fact that her parents recently died abroad, no.” Bannor paused and looked as if he were carefully weighing his words. “The servants are tight lipped about her. The earl can’t abide to be near her, that much was made clear. My boy thinks there is something buried in her past. Something no one is brave enough to even whisper.”

  Something like her father’s gypsy heritage? Could it be true? If it were, his wild idea of marrying May just grew several degrees more impossible.

  “Dig into her father’s background. Find out who he was, and who his parents were.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Bannor gathered up his papers and started for the door. “Oh, my lord. Please do accept my fondest congratulations.”

  “For what?�
��

  “Your mother says you are to marry one of the Duke of Newbury’s daughters. You couldn’t pick a wife from a more respectable family.”

  Chapter 14

  Radford studied the two porcelain woodland sprites he’d set on the mantel, unable to decide which one to keep and which one to give to May.

  One sprite had shamelessly pulled up her skirt and bared her leg as she danced, frozen in time by the hardened clay. A truly free soul. Her hair flowed about her shoulders and flowers wreathed her head. This was how he wished to see May. This was how a fairy-princess should appear. He lifted the tiny statue and turned it over in his hand. Even the dimples on the sprite’s round cheeks looked like May’s.

  The second figurine appeared much more subdued by contrast. Her slender hands covered her mouth and she was turning away to cover a blush. The artist had been adept at capturing detail though. The dainty woman’s eyes were peering back, as if perversely drawn to whatever had made her shy away.

  The artist could have used May as a model for this figurine. She hid from her joyous nature, only allowing precious glimpses to occasionally escape.

  So which one did May deserve? The image of her shrinking away from society . . . away from love and life? Or the image of the free spirit she should no longer deny?

  He could give her both.

  Presenting her with even one, no matter how trivial, would be viewed inappropriate. He was a bachelor contemplating marriage to another. She was a maid rushing into a disaster he felt honor-bound to stop. The gift wouldn’t be well received. He wasn’t going to fool himself on that point.

  What was wrong with giving her both figurines?