Saying I Do to the Scoundrel

by Liz Tyner

  Gussie stared at Brandt. ‘I did. They burned.’

  ‘She’s just tired,’ Katherine said. ‘We’ve had a long day. I’ll take her to bed.’

  Brandt followed behind them, watching as she tucked Gussie into bed. When Katherine left the room, he waited outside the doorway.

  ‘You didn’t tell me she was so wilful,’ he said. ‘She is nothing like my son.’

  ‘She is a ray of sunshine in my life and Mrs Caudle’s.’

  ‘Then you have a lot of sooty days.’

  *

  Brandt returned to his room, and settled into a chair. Nothing looked the same as it had. Even in the darkness, he could tell that. In the past, it had always had the scent of gardenias, but now it had more of a mixture of fresh stirred dirt and lemon. It almost reminded him of the tavern when the women had cleaned at night.

  He relaxed into the chair and shut his eyes, trying to imagine somewhere along the road north to Scotland that would take him in. He’d forgotten how much he’d enjoyed the fields in the summer and the movements of ploughing, of caring for the cows. Of honest sweat tiring him and the sudden change of jumping into a standing pool when the work was done, and stepping out with a feeling of having earned the right to sit by a fire.

  *

  He never knew when he fell into a slumber, but the sudden clattering thump of wood hitting his head caused his eyes to dart open. Morning light streamed in the window.

  A little girl in nightclothes stared at him. Nathan’s rabbit lay on the floor by his chair. He reached up, feeling the spot where the rabbit had connected with his head.

  ‘I’m ready to go to Bedlam now,’ she informed him.

  ‘Then go and get Katherine. I’m not taking you. And get out of my room.’

  She walked over, picked up Nathan’s rabbit and hugged it close.

  ‘Katty is asleep. You’re not.’

  ‘Perhaps I should take you. But I’m going, too. I’ve my own journey to take.’

  ‘You’re leaving?’ she asked, rocking the rabbit.

  ‘Yes. Today.’

  She looked around his room. ‘I like this room. I will stay here.’

  He rose to his feet and strode to the door. The rabbit hit the wall beside the facing as he went outside.

  He walked down the hallway and into Katherine’s room without knocking.

  ‘Katherine,’ he muttered, opening her door. He shut it firmly behind him. ‘Why did Augustine not like Gussie?’

  ‘Well…’ She sat up, eyes half-closed, running a hand over her face to remove the hair that had escaped in the night. ‘She might have poured treacle into his clothes.’

  ‘Did she ever throw things at him?’

  ‘Oh, no. Never. But she hid under his desk and almost tripped him with a cane.’

  ‘Where is Mrs Caudle? Does she not watch her?’

  ‘Of course she does. But Gussie is generally such a good child that Mrs Caudle doesn’t always watch her close.’

  ‘Do you ever punish the little—?’ Monster was the first word that popped into his mind. ‘Girl?’

  ‘Well, when she misbehaves we give her tarts to settle her down and we talk about what she did wrong.’

  ‘If I misbehaved and someone gave me a bottle of brandy every time I did, I doubt I’d stop.’ He waved an arm.

  She snorted. ‘Well, that’s what you did. You went to the tavern and had crateloads of brandy.’ She tossed her head and had the same rebellion in her eyes the little one had.

  ‘Do not be humorous. The child is a little hellion and she has planned to take my room when I leave.’

  ‘Well, what is wrong with her taking your room?’

  ‘She is a little girl and it is the master’s chambers.’

  ‘She’s growing up soon and won’t want a room with Mrs Caudle. She’ll have to sleep somewhere.’

  He walked to the mirror, looked into it and touched the red bump on his head.

  ‘She lost her mother so young,’ Katherine said, sliding out of the bed and slipping into her nightrail. ‘Her father shouted at her every time she came near. Mrs Caudle and I care a great deal for her.’

  ‘Perhaps too much.’

  He left the room. He heard the door open and close behind him and Katherine’s footsteps following along.

  He walked by the doorway to his room where Gussie glared at him. She hurled the rabbit his way. He reached out and caught it.

  ‘You will not be allowed to play with this any more.’ He held the rabbit shoulder high for emphasis. ‘Ever. Again.’

  ‘You’re leaving. I don’t care.’

  He shrugged. ‘Neither do I.’

  But he looked down at her and could see her growing up and searching taverns for a kidnapper or a gambler.

  ‘I’m putting this away where you can never play with it again.’

  She charged him, hitting his legs.

  ‘No, Gussie.’ Katherine pulled her back and Gussie tried to escape, flailing and kicking.

  ‘Let her go,’ he said.

  Gussie wriggled free and charged at him again. He took her thin shoulders and held her at arm’s length as she struggled to hit him. He turned his head towards Katherine. ‘What does she like more than anything in the world?’

  ‘To be read to.’

  ‘Gussie, if you do not be good—’ he held her firm ‘—we will take your books.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ she said, stepping back. ‘I have my doll.’

  ‘The next time you misbehave, the books will go away for a day. If you misbehave again, the doll will go away for a day.’

  He looked at Katherine. ‘Below stairs there is a place where the silver was stored—you should find it soon and be prepared to put her books and doll in it.’

  ‘I hate you. I want Mrs Caudle,’ the child shouted.

  He released Gussie’s arms and she ran down the hallway and to the stairs, going out of sight. He turned to Katherine and chuckled softly. ‘She hates me. And I really, really don’t like her.’ He shook his head. ‘And I don’t see that changing any time soon.’

  ‘But she’s a sweet child.’

  He tilted his head sideways, question in his eyes.

  ‘But a bit wilful,’ Katherine said.

  Brandt turned to her. He reached out, took the rabbit and, with his other hand, his fingertips trailed the delicate skin of her cheek.

  ‘Katherine. It feels too much for me. The worry. But I have a feeling I might worry more about you if I leave than if I stay.’

  She reached up to take his hand and held it.

  ‘Brandt. You believe you’re more than you are. You’re a man. Even with your strength, you’re only strong as one man.’ Her fingers tightened on his. ‘You can’t lift more than three men. You can’t change the course of the world.’

  He pulled her tightly against him, shutting his eyes, and the rabbit clattered to the floor. He let himself truly feel what he had around him. ‘But if I lose you, Katherine…’

  ‘Then you should remember how much you gave me.’ She moved back, gazing into his face. ‘Stop looking to the door and counting the steps.’

  He let out a deep breath. ‘I want to leave so badly. But I need to stay. You would let that little girl rule the household.’

  ‘You can’t protect us from everything, Brandt.’

  ‘I know that well. But I can protect you from her.’

  ‘You don’t control life and death. You’re here, now,’ she whispered. ‘Live with us. Not with the family you’ve lost.’

  ‘It always comes back to my mind.’ He pulled her back into his arms and let his chin rest in her hair. He realised Katherine had seen all sides of his life, yet she’d chosen him for a husband.

  ‘Does it return as often as it did before?’

  ‘Not since I’ve met you.’ He shook his head. ‘You’ve kept me busy.’

  ‘Is it the grief which captured you? Or the guilt?’

  He stilled. ‘I wronged Mary in life by not thinking her good eno
ugh. And if I had not felt the things I did, I wouldn’t have been so quick to take them to London. I didn’t want to wrong her in death.’

  ‘Don’t you think she would have forgiven you?’

  He laughed, a low sound. ‘Not soon. She carried a grudge for ever.’

  ‘Well, it would have been a convenient thing for her to hold over your head if you had a shouting match then.’ She took in a deep breath. ‘And should we get in a shouting match, I think I will throw that back in your face, on her behalf.’

  ‘You may. It would have made her happy to have a woman raised in society defending her.’

  ‘Then I shall.’

  ‘I will hold you to it.’ He kissed her, a soft lingering kiss, running his hand along her back, pulling them close.

  ‘Are you sure you just aren’t willing to let Gussie have your room?’

  ‘It is out of the question.’ He paused. ‘I will happily let her hate me. And I’m not going to make any overtures of friendship to her. She will have to come to me if she wishes us to be acquainted, but if not, that is how it is.’

  ‘That sounds harsh.’

  He shook his head. ‘It worked for the lightskirts.’

  Katherine’s mouth fell open.

  ‘The little one is making me feel right at home. A few blisters on my hands will be next. It’s not always an easy path, Katherine. In fact, it never is. I can’t escape problems or troubles. I’ve tried. It’s time I accepted that grief and regret and mistakes are a part of life, and settle into this world. You, Gussie and I are misfits. But together, we’ll fit into our own lives and our own family.’

  ‘Maybe that’s what marriage is meant to be.’

  He smiled. ‘I suspect it is what our marriage was meant to be.’

  He rested his head against hers and his shoulders relaxed. He just held her and felt her breathe against him, and it seemed the breaths she gave moved into his own body, filling him with a peace he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

  Pulling back, he looked to her fingers. He saw the ring she’d handed him during the marriage and that he’d slipped on her hand during the vows. ‘That is your mother’s ring?’

  She brushed her fingers over the simple band, her eyes on the ring. ‘Yes.’

  He took her fingertips and pulled her hand so he could see the ring. He didn’t speak as he examined the band.

  She could see the sweep of his lashes and beyond the hard planes of his face. He gently turned the ring on her finger. Then he pulled her hand to his lips, and kissed the ring. ‘I love you,’ he spoke, his voice little more than a gravelly whisper.

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ she said. ‘After all, we did run away together.’

  He raised his eyes to her and then straightened. ‘I truly wouldn’t have chosen to marry again. But I hadn’t met a woman who looked so fetching in trousers and a waistcoat. And if I let you from my sight, I’m afraid what you might do to some poor man should you decide to replace me.’

  ‘You’re irreplaceable, you scoundrel.’

  He savoured the warmth he felt in her arms. ‘Katherine. You are the scoundrel. You barged into my door and nestled yourself a place in my heart, kidnapping me. I said I do to a woman who woke me in the midst of a deep sleep. The sleep I lived each day of my life. And you would not let me continue my life of slumber.’

  ‘I am not a scoundrel,’ she said.

  ‘Well, be that as it may,’ he said, ‘I’m so fortunate you woke me.’

  He felt her body relax into his.

  He opened his mouth to tell her of his love again, but she interrupted. ‘Brandt, should we have children, how will we tell them we met?’

  ‘The truth is best—except leave out the part about the kidnapping.’ He let his cheek rest in her hair.

  ‘I believe I will tell them how their father was so entranced by me, he could hardly let me out of his sight.’ She let her fingertips trail through his hair.

  ‘And I will tell them we met at a surprise soirée and I was so taken with the way your eyes took me in, I swept you away.’ He nipped her ear.

  He could hear the smile in her words when she spoke again. ‘And I took one look at you and could barely speak.’

  ‘Well, an unmarried woman isn’t supposed to speak to a man without a proper introduction.’ His arms tightened around her. Brandt shut his eyes and shook his head. ‘If we do have children, Katherine, I think that I might be the one to instruct them more than you and Mrs Caudle.’

  She laughed.

  The sound was pure. Clear. The haze that had deadened the sounds of all happiness had faded.

  Katherine was the answer to the quest he’d not allowed his heart to take and now she was nestled there, snug and secure.

  He looked at her and, in the way of knowing a truth that is secret to the rest of the world and is generated from forces stronger than the ones creating air, he knew they would be together long into the lives of their grandchildren.

  *

  If you enjoyed this story

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  by Liz Tyner

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  Keep reading for an excerpt from Her Convenient Husband’s Return by Eleanor Webster.

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  Her Convenient Husband’s Return

  by Eleanor Webster

  Prologue

  Her fingers touched the pins which impaled each fragile butterfly. She felt the cold hardness, contrasting with the spread-eagled insect wings, delicate as gossamer.

  The air smelled of dust, laden with a cloying sweetness. Despite her lack of sight, Beth could feel the Duke’s gaze on her. Goose pimples prickled on her neck and she shivered even though the chamber was warm from the crackling fire.

  ‘Ren?’ she called.

  ‘Your friend is in the other room, looking at the tiger I shot. An artistic boy, it would seem?’

  He stepped closer. ‘So, do you like the butterflies?’

  She could smell his breath, a mix of alcohol, tobacco and that odd sweetness.

  ‘I find them sad.’

  ‘That is because you cannot see,’ the Duke said. ‘If you could see, you would admire their beauty. I pin them when they are still alive. The colour of their wings stays so much brighter, I find.’

  She swallowed. Her throat felt dry. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as if swollen, making words difficult to form.

  ‘You are yourself very beautiful,’ he said. ‘An unusual beauty, a perfection that is so seldom s
een in nature. Your face, your features have a perfect symmetry. That is why I like the butterflies.’

  She withdrew her hands from the display case, shifting abruptly and instinctively away. Stumbling, she felt a sharp corner strike her thigh.

  ‘Do be careful.’ The Duke’s hand touched her arm.

  She felt the pressure of his fingers and the smell of his breath. She pulled her arms back, hugging them tight to her body.

  ‘Ren!’ she called again.

  ‘The walls are very thick here. It is nice to know that one’s residence is well built, don’t you think?’

  She felt her breath quicken as sweat dampened her palms.

  ‘Beth?’

  Relief bubbled up in a weird mix of euphoria and panic as she heard Ren’s familiar step.

  ‘That stuffed tiger is fantastic,’ he said. ‘I’d love to see one alive. Did you want to feel it?’ He paused. She heard him step to her. ‘Beth, are you sick?’

  She nodded and he grasped her hand, his touch warm and familiar.

  ‘I—would—like—to—go—home.’ She forced the words out in a staccato rhythm, each syllable punctuated with a harsh gasp.

  ‘Do return, any time you would like,’ the Duke said.

  She held tight to Ren’s hand as they exited the room and stepped down the stairs. They said nothing as they traversed the drive and then took the shortcut through the woods and back to the familiarity of Graham Hill.

  It was only as they sat in their favourite spot, leaning against the oak’s stout trunk with her hands touching the damp velvet moss, that her breathing slowed.

  ‘Don’t let’s go there again,’ she said. ‘Ever.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Nothing.’ This was true and yet she had felt more fearful than she ever had before. More fearful than the time she had fallen off the fence into the bull’s paddock. Or when she had got lost in the woods. Or when her horse had got spooked.

  ‘He looks at you strangely.’

  ‘Yes, I feel it.’

  ‘We won’t go back,’ Ren agreed. ‘I thought he would have more animals. One tiger isn’t much.’

  ‘And butterflies.’

  Ren stood. He could never stay still for long, unless he was painting. ‘Let’s forget about that creepy old place. We’ll not return, not for a hundred tigers. What should we do now—fishing, or should we see if Mrs Bridges has baked?’