But, the more he thought on the dilemma, the more he realized he simply could not do it. If he asked her for a few more months, then he’d want a year. If he got that year, he’d want more years. He’d want her life to become a part of his, her hand in marriage, the children she would bear him. He would want all the things he had no right to ask of her, not when she’d never wanted him for anything more than he’d already given, not when he could hardly afford to care for his siblings let alone a wife. Not when she might never come to love him as much as he loved her.
In the days following their desperate fucking on the floor of her study, he’d tried to convince himself that he was making too much of his feelings. He told himself it was an infatuation that would fade, that it had happened too quickly for him to be certain how he truly felt. But time to think had only affirmed what he knew to be sure. He wasn’t certain when it had happened: when he first heard her laugh, their first kiss, the time he’d seduced her with scientific terms, or even the moment she’d laid her father’s watch in his hands and told him why she clung to the broken timepiece. It didn’t matter when or how, not when he could look back on each of those encounters with such emotion welling within his chest and tearing him apart.
He loved her, and no amount of denial would change that.
Which was why the best thing he could do was allow their association to end. He’d only torture himself being with her when he knew there could never be anything more. It would hurt, but time and distance could mend that. Eventually, he would be able to look back on their month together with wistful fondness.
He came to this final decision one afternoon after hours of pondering it while toiling away in his office, the dark gloom of a foggy day a match for his mood. All there was left to do was ask Benedict to find him a new keeper, preferably one who would want him for longer than a month.
He’d just set his quill aside and decided to take a walk to clear his head, when the door swung open. A woman stood silhouetted in the opening, and he recognized Clare before she’d even stepped into the light of the tapers. He’d know her anywhere—her form, her posture, the way she walked as she approached his desk.
Her bright smile only drove the dagger deeper into his heart, such a sharp juxtaposition to his own dark mood. She must have noticed the tightness of his mouth and the furrows in his brow, because she faltered, her smile fading a bit.
“Are you very busy?” she asked. “I suppose this could wait, but I have news and I couldn’t wait to share it.”
Schooling his face into a more neutral expression, he stood and rounded the desk toward her. He took her hand and kissed the back of it, lingering for a moment to draw in that soothing lavender and rosemary scent.
“I am never too busy for you,” he said. “And your news must have been good for you to brave this ghastly weather to come visit me.”
While she seemed to have heard him, her gaze had begun to wander, taking in the place that represented the livelihood of his family.
“So, this is where you spend your days,” she murmured. “You’ve been working so hard. I hope things have begun to turn around for Norton & Rivers.”
Leaning against the desk, he crossed his arms over his chest. “So far so good. Three of our ships are now in tiptop shape and ready for cargo. I managed to gain back a lost client and have met with a few prospective new ones. Repairs on the rest of the vessels is getting on well and I have three full crews ready to sail.”
That ready smile lit up her face once more and she clasped her hands against her chest. “I am happy for you. And I want to help you continue to make progress. That is why I’ve come. My news…you see, I’ve just left from meeting with Mr. Sterling on the matter of our contract.”
Edward stiffened, his breath catching and holding as her words began to sink in. He felt torn in opposite directions, part of him hoping to hear the news he’d craved a week ago, the other part recoiling because he’d already decided this should not happen.
“I see,” he managed, uncertain of what else to say.
She nodded, coming closer until they were nearly touching. He kept his arms crossed, needing some sort of barrier against her, or else he’d take her in his arms, kiss her senseless and beg her to love him.
“Yes,” she replied. “I’ve enjoyed our time together so much I couldn’t bear for it to end at the end of the month. So, I went to Mr. Sterling myself and asked him to draw up a new contract…one which doesn’t have to end unless we want it to. That way, we can continue as we have been, and you needn’t worry about where your income will come from while you work to get the line restored to its former glory.”
He clenched his jaw, his stomach churning and quivering as he realized what she was saying. She wanted him, for far longer than a few months if he understood her correctly. But, she hadn’t done this because she wanted him. She’d done it out of some sense of charity to keep him from living hand to mouth again. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, and an itchy tightness that seized him from head to toe. There was nothing deeper to it, for surely a woman who was falling in love would require an end to this unorthodox arrangement and be open to courtship?
“Well, wasn’t that noble of you,” he ground out, shaking with the will it took to stay composed. “But I can assure you that I need no such largess. You see, I’ve already decided to ask Benedict to find a new keeper for me.”
Her mouth fell open and one hand came to her belly as if he’d struck her there. The urge to beg her forgiveness came over him hard and fast, but he pushed it away, determined to get out of this with his dignity intact. She had already made him love her and want her in a way he’d never wanted anyone or anything else. Now, he would stand here and endure the truth without letting on how much it hurt.
“Y-you want someone else?” she stammered, confusion and hurt melting away her previously joyous expression. “But I thought—”
“That I’d want to have a keeper who only endures my presence in her bed out of a sense of pity?” he interjected. “I might be a courtesan, but I do have some dignity. If I’m going to service anyone, it’ll be someone who actually wants me. So, thank you for your generous offer but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”
Her shock gave way to anger, her face flushing and her eyes flashing like strikes of lightning. “Is that what you think? That I’ve only decided to do this because I feel sorry for you?”
He shrugged, tearing his gaze away from her and staring across the room. “It’s what you just said, isn’t it? I suppose I cannot blame you. After all, my story is quite the pitiful one and I assume it made you feel responsible for me in a way. But, as I said, your pity is neither wanted nor needed.”
Hands balled up at her sides, she glared at him, nostrils flaring as she became visibly overwhelmed with emotion. “You bloody idiot. You really have no idea, do you? God, you men are so daft! You wouldn’t know the truth if it were spelled out for you using language a child could understand!”
Stunned, he dropped his arms and studied her closely. Her eyes had begun to glisten as if with tears and she shook with anger. He realized his error too late, and a hard knot of regret had lodged itself in his throat.
“Clare,” he whispered. “I thought…you never told me…”
“I didn’t think I had to,” she spat with a swift shake of her head. “I would have thought it was as clear to you as it is to me, but I can see you are as dense as the rocks sitting in a box in my study. I love you, you fool! And I thought that perhaps you might eventually come to love me. But we needed more time, and I thought…I hoped that if we had that time things would become clearer, and someday we might become more than courtesan and keeper.”
The knot in this throat dropped down into his stomach, making him sick with the epiphany that he’d been entirely wrong. She was right; he was dense. He had seen the truth for himself, that night before the fire. But he’d convinced himself he’d been mistaken, and now that assumption would cost him dearly.
He
reached out to take hold of her arm, trying to pull her into his embrace. “CeCe, wait. I’m sorry, I was mistaken—”
She jerked away from him with a sharp intake of breath, backing away from him as if she’d been burned. “And just what is so wrong with me wanting to help you with my money? My parents left it to me to do as I want, and it would have pleased me to help you. Are you so prideful that you would shun what I could offer you because you are a man and I am a woman? I thought you better than that, Edward, but clearly I am the one who is mistaken. It would be of no consequence if you were to marry me and take my inheritance as a dowry, would it? But, I offer to give you a piece of it because I love you—though God knows you don’t deserve it—and you throw my offering back in my face!”
Edward made one last desperate attempt to touch her, to hold her and tell her he loved her until she grew sick of hearing it. But, she’d already turned for the door, leaving him behind with long, sure strides. He wanted to tell her he would marry her and damn the money, damn the contract, damn all of it. But as she turned in the doorway to look back at him, he saw that she’d pulled herself together. She now looked as if she were made of stone, her face implacable and her shoulders squared.
“Thank you for all the things you taught me,” she said, her voice low and strained. “I hope you’ll have a care with your next keeper. It isn’t good business for you to go about stealing hearts and then breaking them.”
“Clare…”
She was gone before he could get another word out, the door slamming behind her and rattling the walls. Edward fell against his desk with a swift sigh, the air knocked from him. His head spun with all that had changed in what felt like the blink of an eye. He had gone from despairing that Clare could never love him, to realizing she did love him but now he’d ruined everything.
“God damn it,” he muttered, running a hand over his face.
He’d ruined his chances with Clare. What might have been a certainty had he kept his mouth shut had now been put out of his reach.
* * *
Clare stormed past her aunt as she entered the townhouse, her clothing damp from the thick fog descending over London like a dreary gray blanket. She supposed it was fitting to her mood, which had plummeted with a swiftness that left her reeling. It was a far cry from the hope she had felt after leaving the secret offices of the Gentleman Courtesans hidden away in the back of a modiste’s shop. She hadn’t been certain whether her plan would have the desired result, but she’d been willing to take that chance.
It had not taken her long to realize that she’d held back from making a decision concerning Edward out of fear. She had opened herself to passion and gained so much more in the process. Intimacy, companionship, love. She’d found it difficult to believe that Edward felt nothing for her, and had clung to the hope that more time would only strengthen the bond that had formed between them in a few short weeks. It had all seemed so simple to her. They needed more time for their connection to grow stronger, and Edward needed money. A longer arrangement had seemed like the perfect solution.
“CeCe, dear,” Helene called out from the open drawing room door. “How did your meeting with Mr. Sterling go?”
Untying the ribbons of her sodden hat, she tossed it onto the entrance hall table beside the fresh flowers she’d arranged just this morning.
“Quite well, actually,” she snapped, unable to keep the anger and hurt out of her voice. “It’s been decided that Edward and I will not continue our arrangement. He will seek a new keeper and I will get on quite well without him.”
She caught sight of her aunt’s shocked expression just before spinning away to make for her greenhouse. The last thing she wanted was to have to explain her painful, embarrassing conversation with Edward.
“Wait, Clare! Won’t you tell me what happened?”
“Suffice it to say, men are idiots,” she threw over her shoulder without a look back.
She hated to treat her aunt so poorly, but if she spoke of it she might fall apart. She might fall to the floor, lay her head in Helene’s lap and weep over what she’d come to want most but would never have. It was bad enough that Edward had seen her shed tears; she was done weeping for him. For God’s sake, she was an educated woman, a worldy woman, a botanist! She had never been the sort to lapse into tears over a man and she would not start now.
Throwing open the door to the conservatory, she breathed a small sigh of relief. At least here, the only thing that mattered was the life she’d cultivated from soil and seeds. Her experiments might be unpredictable at times, but they did not have the power to ruin her life or hurt her. Trying again wouldn’t expose her to more hurt or mortification.
Sinking down onto her stool, she noticed that one of her hybrids had begun to bud. Blossoms would be soon to follow, allowing her to see the results of her experiment. This should have brought her some sort of happiness, but she couldn’t feel anything just now. She felt as if she’d been gutted, turned inside out with all her nerves exposed to the elements. What had once seemed so trivial to her—marriage, a family of her own, and the sort of love she’d never believed in—had become a most ardent wish, one that had been trampled on before it ever saw the light of day.
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel it all for a moment. She would let herself be disappointed, angry, and heartbroken, but only until she was ready to leave this room. She had lived a life of contentment and independence before him, and she would do it again. Going forward, she would simply think of this as one of her experiments. Except, this particular test would never be repeated. It simply wasn’t worth the result.
The sound of footsteps approaching had her opening her eyes and sitting up straight, to better conceal how wretched she felt. It was one thing to wallow in her misery alone, but quite another to let someone else bear witness to it—even Aunt Helene, who stood on the other side of the table peering at Clare with concern in her eyes.
“This morning you left here in a downright giddy mood, telling me you were off to extend your contract with Edward,” she said. “Something happened between now and then.”
Reaching for her journal, Clare flipped it open and recorded the date for a new entry. Avoiding her aunt’s gaze, she began notating the growth and progress of her budding Lilium.
“Something did happen, but it wasn’t of any consequence. I simply realized that you were right…some people are only meant to be a temporary part of our lives. That is all,” she murmured, hating that her voice betrayed her on the last few words by cracking.
Seeming to sense that Clare would say no more on the matter, Helene sighed and retreated, leaving her in blessed solitude once more. As she went back to her notes, she repeated those words to herself over and over again, determined that she’d think and speak them as many times as it took for her to believe them.
Chapter 10
A few days later, Clare sat at her desk with a new letter from Gillian, this one having just arrived from Sussex. With it had come only one small mineral sample, but it might just be the most beautiful Clare had ever seen. ‘Hastings firestorm amber’ Gilly had called it, and the bit of it she’d sent seemed alive with tongues of flame from the inside. Holding the specimen up to the light, she observed the threads of red, orange, and brown effusing through the honey-colored stone, the light reflecting off its inner prisms like sparks.
Her friend’s letter had been filled with news and cheer, which Clare had been glad to read no matter how it reminded her of her own recent disappointment. The Young siblings had departed Cornwall for Sussex, taking up at a seaside resort in Hastings for a bit of a holiday before moving on to their next destination. But Gilly was never capable of true rest for long, and she’d begun digging about the shingled shore in search of various treasures. It was here she had dug up the amber, a bit of which she’d sent to Clare. The two were enjoying the sea air as well as a respite from the constant pace of their work. As well, Randall had met a lovely young woman and the
two seemed to be in the midst of a budding romance. That last bit of news would have relieved Clare a month ago, a sure sign that Gilly’s brother had finally turned his attentions elsewhere. Yet, knowing that there were two people in Sussex falling in love while she was in London nursing a broken heart only annoyed her.
Because, of course it was so easy for other people. People who fit into each other’s lives with ease, people who weren’t eccentric bluestockings or impoverished courtesans with failing shipping companies, and who knew how to give, receive and express love without tearing each other to pieces.
Edward isn’t torn to pieces, she told herself with a derisive snort. He’s too busy saddling his high horse.
His assumption that she’d only wanted to extend their arrangement out of pity angered her most of all. She had thought he’d come to know her better than that, but she’d obviously been mistaken. He didn’t know her at all if her actions had sent him leaping to such an asinine conclusion. It was for the best, then. If he did not know her, he could not possibly love her.
Folding Gilly’s letter and setting it aside, she then rose to retrieve the chest containing her minerals to store the amber. Just as she opened the latch and lifted the lid, the sound of voices came at her from downstairs. She froze, her heart leaping into her throat as she recognized the deep rumbling tones of a man’s voice. Inclining her head, she listened more closely, certain she recognized the male voice that seemed to penetrate the doors, vibrate the walls, and send unwanted pangs of longing straight to her traitorous heart.
Closing the lid on her chest, she crept on silent feet to the stairs, peering over the railing at the landing below. Sure enough, she found Edward standing just within the entrance hall with his hat in his hands, his expression earnest as he spoke with Aunt Helene.
“Do you think she will see me?” he asked. “I don’t know if she’s informed you of what happened when last we spoke—”
Tempting the Bluestocking: A Gentleman Courtesans Novella Page 10