Selfishness, Radford supposed.
A strong desire to keep both for himself burned in him. He wanted the reckless elfin creature and the shy, frightened innocent fey princess. Both charmed him. And, he suspected, one couldn’t exist without the other.
Since he’d already decided to give her one, he forced himself to come to a decision. Just like the gypsy witch had suggested, May deserved her freedom. He picked up the wild, dancing woodland sprite and held it so it shined in the ray of sunlight streaming through a large window. She needed to be given the opportunity to dance and shine in full view.
Radford would give it to her and keep the memory of the other hidden away. To cherish . . .
And love.
He carefully wrapped the shy woodland figurine in a linen handkerchief and tucked it into his breast pocket so she could rest just above his heart.
He scooped up the other and jammed his beaver hat onto the crown of his head, with the intention of paying May a visit straight away. Whether she wanted to or not, he would make her accept his gift.
“There you are, Radford.” His mother sailed into the room. She wore another light gown that floated about her ankles as she crossed into the drawing room.
Lillian’s mother, the Duchess of Newbury, lagged a mere step behind. Good manners had Radford removing his hat and greeting the women politely. He dropped May’s figurine into his pocket.
“That lazy butler of yours should have brought the tea up by now. You really must have a word with him.” His mother shot a troubled glance in the duchess’ direction. “Bachelors are such helpless creatures. They really do need a strong-willed lady to take the servants well in hand.”
Never, not even in his wild youth, had Radford been careless with his servants. He was fair but stern, expecting they return as much effort and respect as he gave them. The accusation against Jeffers grated his nerves mainly because she’d criticized a butler worthy of praises.
“Mother, I will not—”
“You don’t have to do anything, my dear. We have the matter well in hand.”
“You do?” Radford picked up his hat again. He would worry about the women’s scheming later. Someone had to warn May of Mr. Tumblestone’s not so honorable reason for wanting to marry her.
It was his experience that young women in such dire conditions often acted in haste. Time was definitely of import.
“Very well. You can get along well without me then.”
“Radford!” his mother screeched. She latched onto his arm with an amazing strength. “You must be a part of this. We are planning your marriage.”
Of course they were. He gritted his teeth and tossed his hat onto a nearby chair. Why else would his mother and the duchess gather together and search him out? The new-bride shine in their eyes should have set off all sorts of warning chimes in his head. He’d seen the glow in the eyes of dozens of young besotted ladies and their beaming mothers before his injuries turned him into a creature to be pitied.
“Heaven forbid I miss such a momentous discussion. Remind me, Mother. Who, pray tell, have you decided to marry me to?”
“Radford,” his mother scolded while the duchess sucked in a deep breath and looked quite unabashedly shocked. “He’s joking, duchess. Not in good taste, mind you.”
Radford stood his ground. “Since I have yet to formally declare myself to any woman, you must understand my confusion.”
“I certainly do not understand you.” His mother shook a slender finger at him. “Your jest has gone too far. Apologize to the duchess at once.”
The duchess did appear on the verge of a fit of apoplexy. Her cheeks were turning beet red as she continued to gasp for air.
“Are you choking?” he asked, truly concerned. “Perhaps some water would help?”
“She is in need of an apology, Radford.”
“I apologize then. I am sorry to cause you such distress, your grace. Though, I certainly haven’t a clue why you should be so concerned over your youngest daughter’s prospects. She is young, beautiful, and possesses the refined qualities any gentleman would desire in a wife.”
“She is so young and impressionable,” the duchess managed to sputter between gasps.
“Are you certain you wouldn’t want me to fetch a glass of water?” Radford pressed, his concern growing. “You really must sit down.” He led her to the closest chair and helped lower her into the seat.
“She-she is in love with you, my lord,” the duchess whispered as she continued to struggle for a smooth breath. “I would hate for her innocent heart to be broken . . . shattered. She has such tender emotions.”
Lady Lillian with tender emotions? They must be well hidden. Radford rubbed his chin. A sizzling dread landed in his chest. Could he have misread the silly girl? Could he have completely overlooked her hidden depths?
Possibly . . . probably . . .
He was a bounder. His interests had been too focused on the very unsuitable May Sheffers. What a wreck he’d caused. Both ladies were in danger of having their hearts bruised, thanks to him.
Radford leaned heavily on his cane as he plodded his way to the closest window. The sun shone brightly on the fields. He glimpsed his star horse, the lively Princess, frolicking with one of his younger geldings.
His future stretched out before him in that field. But with his old life gone, nothing but disappointment waited for him out there. He was trapped in a world where he could no longer enjoy the freedom only riding a horse could bring him.
What kind of husband would he make any woman? No one, not even the trying Lady Lillian, who was his perfect match, deserved to suffer so.
“Are you certain of her feelings toward me?” he asked the duchess. The thought that the young lady might be in love with him was met with a great deal of alarm. “She couldn’t possibly be in love. We have only just met.”
The duchess mournfully wagged her head from side to side. “She sees only bliss and happiness. She is young yet, Evers. Your attentiveness to her has completely won her regard. I pray your rejection will not inflict irreparable harm.”
“Rejection?” Lady Evers called. “What is this nonsense about rejection?”
“I just wish to slow down. I had hoped to woo the lady without—”
“Hush, boy,” his mother said sternly. “You have created enough havoc for today.”
Radford heaved a deep sigh and crossed his arms over his chest. There was no hope for it. He’d gotten himself in deep this time. Let the women make the marriage plans. Such matters failed to hold his interest anyhow.
He set the dancing figurine he intended to give to May back on the mantel and listened with only half an ear to the two mammas prattle on. His hopes for winning Miss Sheffers’ favor had suddenly degraded into something unfathomable. The wild idea of asking her to marry him could never come to pass. There were too many people involved with his marriage plans . . . too many fragile hearts to be considered.
But what was May to him? If she was not wife material and too honorable to be considered a mistress, he would just have to settle for friendship. As a friend he would warn her. He would do everything in his limited power to stop her marriage to that old money-hungry goat, Tumblestone.
Friendship would have to be enough for him.
* * * * *
“Surely you’re not suggesting men and women cannot be friends? I’ll have you know that Miss Sheffers is a most uncommon woman with a mind surpassing a goodly number of men’s.”
Wynter had only laughed, claiming that Radford, a man, could never hope to be friends with May, a most sumptuous woman.
After enduring two hours with his mother and the duchess, Radford had been more than ready to escape his home and venture out in search of May. He may have agreed to visit the Duke of Newbury and officially declare his intentions
that evening, but he had not agreed to forget his desire to help a friend in need.
Leave it to Wynter to burst into his home and keep him from his task while demanding an explanation at the same time. Wynter’s scowl had grown more fierce as Radford explained his situation. He made light of the confusing feelings he felt toward May and protected her reputation by not mentioning the money Mr. Tumblestone had been promised for taking her to wife.
“Miss Sheffers is an honest woman. I would be proud to be able to call her a friend,” Radford declared. He tried again to make it to the door, jamming his beaver hat low on his head. He’d wasted too much time in the house already.
Wynter moved swiftly to block his escape. “Are you being purposefully obtuse? Of course I believe there are instances where a man and a woman can develop a friendship akin to a man’s bond with his peers. All I am saying is that men don’t look at friends the way you look at her. You are besotted. You love Miss Sheffers and yet are on the verge of proposing marriage to a lady you can barely tolerate. As your closest friend, I have to ask: Have you lost your bloody mind?”
Chapter 15
May clasped her hands together to keep them from visibly trembling. What she planned to do went against every one of Mary Wollstonecraft’s feminist teachings. An independent woman would never give up her freedom this way. She would have fought a better battle.
If only Aunt Winnie’s health wasn’t a concern . . .
Too late to back down now. She had set her course, had already sent for Mr. Tumblestone. Portia had already hurried away to answer the door and let the caller in.
May held herself as still as a statue, desperately wanting to appear calm and in control. The burgundy silk gown, neatly pressed, hung nicely on her round frame. It was important to look her best, to present a pretty image to Mr. Tumblestone. He should be happy with her decision and pleased with her manner.
Happiness was too lofty a goal for herself, May conceded. But since marriage seemed unavoidable, she planned to do everything in her power to make the situation as painless as possible.
“We will get along well enough,” she muttered. Her heart raced and her mouth grew dry as she listened as a pair of heavy boots banged against the hardwood flooring.
“The Viscount Evers, miss,” Portia announced.
The viscount? Here?
The housekeeper appeared as surprised as May felt. Radford had no business coming to her home. Not now. Not when she expected Mr. Tumblestone’s arrival at any moment.
“I apologize for arriving unannounced.” He didn’t appear the least bit contrite. The viscount filled the room with his manly presence until May felt as if she had to struggle for a breath. His eyes met her skittish gaze. He smiled. It was a predatory expression that sent her heart pattering anew.
“I am expecting Mr. Tumblestone, my lord.” She had meant to sound frosty. Her breathlessness let a note of despair slip under her words.
“Indeed.” He raised an eyebrow. “In that case, it appears I have arrived just in time. That dress complements your figure. You look truly lovely, Miss Sheffers. I suppose the extra effort you have taken with your looks is for your elderly goat?”
“How dare you.” His words had struck like a dagger to her heart. “You have no right to judge me, my clothing, or my choice of husband. I did not ask for nor do I wish to know your thoughts on the matter. My life is my life. You hold no power over me.” She drew up her arm and pointed toward the door. A long, slender finger, one like Lady Lillian’s, would have painted a much more convincing picture. “Get out.”
Radford kept his feet planted in a wide stance on the worn Oriental rug. “You will hear me out first.”
“I will hear—? Oh, no. If you won’t leave, I will.” May started for the door.
Radford caught her in his arms and hauled her up against his chest. “You will listen.”
“If you don’t unhand me this instant, I will scream.”
His grasp only tightened in response to the threat. He pulled her up until she was straining on the tips of her toes. And his mouth closed over hers.
At his prodding, her lips parted and granted his questing tongue free access to tease the soft interior of her lips. May turned limp under his sweet assault. The press of his chest against hers, the sharp hold of his hands heating her arms even through the fabric of her gown, and the gentle touch of his lips on hers all overwhelmed.
Her dreams and secret prayers were being answered. He wanted her. He’d come—just in time—to declare his undying passions.
Oh la, for just this moment, she allowed herself to believe in the magic of fairy tales and in that elusive happily-ever-after.
“Oh May,” he whispered on a heady breath when he peeled away from her. His rough fingers caressed her cheek. These weren’t the hands of an idle gentleman. The coarse calluses only made her love him more. “My dear, stubborn May.”
He tilted her chin up and turned her head until she was gazing straight into his warm gaze. “What you do to me . . . you can’t imagine . . . ”
His heart thundered under May’s hand. She drew her palm away from his chest and stepped back. “Why have you come here?” she asked, hoping beyond hope he would declare his love.
Radford blinked several times and cleared his throat. He jammed him hand in his pocket and drew out a shiny porcelain figurine. May recognized it right away as the one she’d admired at the fair.
“For you.” He placed it in her hand and curled her fingers around the cool, smooth statuette. “A token of our friendship.”
Friendship?
May didn’t know what to think. She stared blankly at the laughing woodland fairy-child he’d given her.
He came to offer friendship? That kiss had heated parts of her and left her longing for more. Certainly there was more than just friendship in the way he’d touched her.
Of course he couldn’t offer her anything else.
May raised her chin and swallowed her feelings. The circumstances of her birth made her ineligible to marry someone as respected and sought after as Radford.
A single tear splashed on the fairy’s joyous expression. “Thank you, my lord. I will cherish it forever.”
Worry creased Radford’s brows. He captured May’s wrist and closed his hand over her fist and the figurine. “Well hell. You seem less than pleased . . . and it is not at all proper for you to be alone with me here in this room.”
Keeping a sharp hold on her, he led the way from the parlor and out the front door, his cane clacking on the hardwood flooring. The bright sun streaming down into the small yard burned May’s tear-stained eyes. She rubbed them with the back of her gloved hand.
“Please unhand me,” she said as he led her through the yard and toward the street. “Where are you taking me? Unhand me. I expect Mr. Tumblestone to arrive in any minute.”
What a disaster she would have on her hands if Tumblestone were to see her alone with Radford. In addition to a broken heart, she would lose the only offer of marriage given to her. What a disaster!
She twisted free of his grasp and set her fists on her hips. “I am not your puppet. Tell me what this is about or leave. Either way, I don’t care.”
Radford raised a single brow. “You don’t care?” He dragged a finger over her cheek, wiping away a stray tear.
May bit the inside of her mouth and prayed for strength. She would not let him see any more of the exciting and painful emotions swirling in her stomach. He didn’t have a right to know how her heart pained for him.
Her silence appeared to frustrate him. Radford bit off a muttered oath and drew a deep breath. “I came to warn you and seem to be doing a poor job of it,” he said, dropping his cane. He clasped his hands behind his back and strode a crooked gait a few steps toward the neighboring field. Tall grasses waved at them. “I don’t know
how to tell you this.”
“Tell me what?” Since he wasn’t going to declare his undying love or beg for her hand in marriage—that much was certain—May was wary of what Radford wished to tell her. “I will not agree to be your mistress, my lord. I have too much self respect to become a kept woman.”
“Good Lord, no.” He kept his back to her. “I have too much respect for you to suggest such a thing. Oh, damn . . . this is a deuced difficult thing to say.”
He turned around then. The hard planes of his aristocratic features made May’s breath catch in her throat.
“You can’t marry that old goat.” The words tumbled out of his mouth. “Your uncle is paying him a small fortune to offer marriage to you. Do you understand me? He is being paid to take you away from your aunt.”
“What an ugly thing to say,” May hissed. Only a monster would think to stomp on her shattered heart.
No malice, only candid concern haunted his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Miss Sheffers. But it is the truth. Your uncle has a very good reason to want Lady Winifred back under his control. You stand in his way. Hence, the marriage proposal.”
“You lie.” May backed up a step. She didn’t want to hear this. To believe him would be too painful. “You claimed to be my friend. Why hurt me so?”
Radford approached, holding his arms out to her. “I am your friend. My only wish is to protect you from your uncle. Mr. Tumblestone just wants the small fortune he’s been promised . . . not you.”
“No,” May whispered as if denial could drive his words away. The thunder of hooves drowned out the nervous pattering of her heart. May’s gaze flicked over her shoulder. Uncle Sires’ crested carriage was rolling up to the cottage. The note she’d sent had promised Tumblestone a pleasant reply to his marriage proposal.
But what if Radford were telling the truth?
“No.” She returned her teary-blurred gaze to Radford’s pleading expression and shook her head from side to side, uncertain what to do—uncertain what to think, even.
The Marriage List Page 14