The Burdens of a Bachelor (Arrangements, Book 5)

by Rebecca Connolly

  “So,” he finished with a sigh, “I suppose the next thing to do is to find a governess.”

  The words hung in the air between them, and Susannah glanced at him in disbelief.

  Surely he did not expect her to… Surely he was not saying that…

  She was shaking her head before the words were even thought. “I can’t do that.”

  He looked as surprised as she felt. “I would never ask you to.”

  “You weren’t saying…?”

  “Absolutely not.” He shook his head frantically and ran his hand through his hair again. “I couldn’t ask that of you, not given our relationship. And you certainly deserve better work than a madhouse of Gerrards.”

  Susannah managed to smile, both touched and amused. “I see. Thank you, I think.”

  “You are welcome.” His look turned rueful. “Do you think you could help me find a suitable governess for them? Not right away, they are still adjusting, but it should be soon. I have no idea about these things, and as you are looking for such work yourself…”

  She tried not to smile, but failed. “I could ask around,” she relented, her cheeks beginning to ache. “And I shall be most discerning about it. No Gerrard girls can have a pitiful or lack wit governess.”

  He grinned in relief. “Thank you.”

  Susannah released a small sigh and looked up at him, feeling open and honest for the first time. “What are you doing, Colin? I mean really, what is this?”

  He shrugged lightly, though his expression was anything but. He knew exactly what she was asking. “Haven’t the foggiest. Don’t really want to think about it either. Do you?”

  Did she? Did she really?

  “All I know,” Colin said, his voice suddenly low and serious, “is that I’m not done with you yet.”

  She could not tell if the words were meant to be ominous or encouraging, but she felt somehow both fearful and hopeful.

  This serious and somber Colin, this darker Colin, this more emotional and mysterious Colin… He quite terrified her. And she did not think she was done with him either.

  “Can we meet again on Wednesday?”

  She looked at him curiously. “So you can see if I’ve eaten? It won’t show by then.”

  Something almost like a smile lit his face. “True, but humor me. Besides, I will be curious if you meet Lady Greversham tomorrow, and you promised to help me with finding a governess.”

  “So we are using each other?” The words were said with too much bite, but there was nothing for it now.

  He gave her a serious, but thorough look. “Something like that. Do I need to see you home, or…?”

  “No, no,” she replied too quickly, panic welling up inside. “I have several errands to run before I return home. Thank you, though. For the offer and for the conversation. It was… very kind.”

  “I’m not kind, Susannah,” he reminded her.

  She now appraised him. “So you keep saying,” she murmured. Heat rose in her cheeks and she bobbed a curtsey. “Good day, Mr. Gerrard,” she said, rushing past him without looking back.

  “Good day… Miss Hart.”

  Her breathing picked up as she moved away from him, and she scolded herself for being such a fool. She had to be more controlled. She had to find strength where he was concerned.

  He was her strength. For fifteen years, he had been all she could keep for herself.

  Now her strength was her weakness.

  So what could she cling to now?

  Chapter Nine

  "How dare she! High and mighty troll, no sense or manners, how did she ever manage to become anything of importance?”

  Muttering under her breath was all that kept her from tears as she marched away from the Tarletons’ rented townhome. Mrs. Tarleton had been nothing more than a mouthpiece for her aunt, Lady Greversham, who had wasted no time at all in coming in herself and tearing Susannah apart piece by piece, without knowing anything about her. Not that she cared, she simply insulted everything she could find and then dismissed her.

  She wouldn’t have wanted to work for such a family anyway.

  Lady Greversham had spoken to her niece the entire time as if Susannah were not in the room, though she stared at her while doing so. Her looks were all wrong, she was too skinny, yet too voluptuous, too dark, and yet sickly, and her hair was unnaturally colored. She had claimed Susannah was a conniving social climber trying for positions to which she was not qualified for.

  She had accused her of being a carrier for infidelity, illegitimacy, and blackmail, who would destroy the family and twist the minds of the children. She was undoubtedly a cast-off daughter who had ruined herself and her family, possibly broken the heart of some deluded chap, reduced to using a false name, and now unsuitable for any sort of proper society.

  If only that last hadn’t been true.

  Susannah walked faster, shaking her head as her eyes began to burn. Why was there truth in her attacks? Why could she somehow cut Susannah despite knowing nothing?

  It would never match what Susannah thought of herself, but it was enough.

  “Susannah?”

  Her breath hitched on a painful hiccup.

  Colin was suddenly at her side, matching her pace. “What’s the rush? What are you…? Good heavens, Susannah, what’s wrong?”

  She shook her head, knowing she could not trust her voice. She could barely breathe without bursting into wild sobs, and that would not do.

  Colin moved in front of her and stopped her movement, hands firmly gripping her arms. “What’s happened, Susannah? Are you ill? Are you in danger? What?”

  She shook her head again and looked down at her toes. She could not meet his eyes. Colin had always had too much power over her; one look at him would ruin her. She swallowed hard and her breath caught on a shallow exhale.

  His hands were suddenly on her face, cupping the back of her head, his palms at her jaw. He tilted her face up and she closed her eyes rather than look at him. She trembled more dangerously in his hold than she had yet.

  “Look at me.”

  She twitched at the gentle command, her hands reaching up to wrap around his wrists for support, and her eyes opened of their own accord.

  His expression was soft, concerned, and curious. “What’s wrong?”

  Her grip on him clenched and a weak, distressed sound escaped her lips.

  His eyes widened at it, and his face tightened. He moved his hands from her face to her arms. “Come on,” he urged, moving her off of the path and into a thick stand of trees, out of sight of anyone who might pass.

  She held his wrists still, knowing that without that hold, she would not be able to stand. Everything was rising too fast, too powerfully, and she was so tired, so weak. There was no strength left to fight it.

  Colin’s hands suddenly moved to wrap around her and pull her tightly against his chest. She stiffened at it, her hands freed of their support and now suspended in the air awkwardly. “Let it out,” he whispered, his mouth dangerously close to her ear. “Let it go. I won’t tell a soul.”

  Swallowing repeatedly, fighting the comfort being in his arms afforded, she hesitated.

  His arms tightened. “I’ve got you. Let it out.”

  Her trembling increased and her heart could not take it. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her fingers clutching at his coat, and she buried her face into his shoulder as tears and sobs exploded from her. Her slight frame was wracked with cry after cry, and Colin held her steady and sure for the whole of it. His hold never wavered, his warmth never faded, and the soothing words he murmured settled as a balm on her unseen wounds.

  When at last she was coherent, which took some time, she eased herself away from him, reluctant but determined. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice a rasp in her throat. “I’m sorry for being a watering pot.”

  Colin, however, was not finished. He kept a hand at her back, his eyes still fixed on her face. “What happened?”

  She looked up at him, t
hought up a hundred different things she could say to avoid it, and then gave up. What was the point of resisting him any longer? She sighed and let him pull her into a walk beside him, his hand moving at last to loop her arm through his. To anyone watching, they might have been any couple having a pleasant walk in the park. They would never see how much she allowed him to support her in this fashion.

  She softly relayed the entire story of her interview and what Lady Greversham had said. When she had finished, her hold on Colin tightened again, tears rising anew. He was furious; she could feel it in the steely tension of his arm.

  He suddenly released an expletive of such a horrid nature that she looked up at him in surprise. He shook his head and covered her hand with his own. “Apologies. But I can’t think of a more polite way to describe her.”

  Susannah almost laughed in spite of her tears. She swallowed hard and whispered, “What hurt the most was how close she was to the truth. And how violently she spelled it out.”

  “No, Susannah,” Colin urged, gripping her hand tightly, “there is no truth there at all.”

  But it was too late, Susannah could not stop herself from telling him exactly how she felt. “I may not fit her mold exactly, but you must admit there is a certain parallel there. Particularly with regards to men and hearts.”

  “Don’t.”

  She brushed angrily at her fresh tears with her free hand. “I have to, Colin. I need to… to tell you how sorry I am. I knew I had hurt you, I was well aware that I was destroying what we had. I have lived with that guilt, have been haunted by it…”

  “I don’t want to live in the past, Susannah,” Colin interrupted, his own voice rough. “It is done, it happened, it’s over.”

  Could he not see? It would never be over. She shook her head. “I won’t ask for your forgiveness because I do not deserve it. But I want you to know that I am so very sorry. I have been sorry every day for fifteen years.” Her voice broke and she could not say another word.

  “Susannah…”

  She looked away, biting down on her lip hard.

  “Did you have to do it?” he asked softly.

  She nodded just once.

  “Then I accept it.”

  She jerked in his hold and her eyes flew to his. “What?” she gasped.

  He seemed surprised by the words himself. “I am… actually not sure what just happened, but suddenly that doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “You’re joking,” she managed in a squeaking voice.

  He slowly shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

  “That’s not possible.” It came out as a whisper, her entire body somehow both hot and cold, and all she could feel was his arm beneath her hand and the heat of his hand on hers.

  He smiled, his thumb absently stroking her hand. “I know. Believe me, I know. And yet…” He shrugged, his smile growing.

  This was no smiling matter. She wet her lips and slowly tried, “Colin…”

  He sobered at once. “I don’t know what it means, not yet. But… I want to see you more, not just for business or by coincidence. I want to intentionally see you, talk with you, plot Lady Greversham’s mysterious demise with you…”

  A startled, yet delighted laugh escaped her and she covered her mouth, her heart swelling at least twice its size in her chest.

  Colin’s smile returned in all its glory, and he held her hand more tightly. “I want to be friends again. In truth, not just for old time’s sake. Can we do that?”

  Could she? Could she really take the chance to glimpse heaven, even if it could not last?

  Slowly, very distinctly, she nodded. Then nodded again.

  His smile impossibly grew, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Good,” was all he said, holding her eyes captive with his. Then he abruptly cleared his throat and tore his gaze away. “Now, here’s what I propose: I have a great many friends in London, each with their own valuable connections. I may have only given half effort before, which is careless on my part, but it will have the full measure of my attention and influence now.”

  “You don’t need to ask everyone,” Susannah insisted, her voice finding its usual strength and tone at last.

  He chuckled. “Oh, I will talk to exactly one person and that is all I need to.”

  “Who?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

  His smile turned devious. “Lady Tabitha Raeburn. The most terrifying woman in England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, and I’m quite certain a few countries on the continent as well.”

  “Oh my,” Susannah murmured, swallowing nervously. “I should have thought that title belonged to Lady Greversham.”

  He snorted. “Lady Greversham has all the mannerisms of a cross between a troll and a gargoyle, and the only reason she has not turned to stone yet is that all forms of stone take great affront to that idea.”

  Susannah snickered helplessly and clamped down on her lips as a few men on horseback tipped their hat at Colin.

  “No,” he went on as if he’d said something normal, “Lady Greversham will never even half match Tibby, in influence, popularity, good taste, or splendor. Plus, Tibby adores me. She’ll find you a position that will be beyond perfect, I am quite sure of it. Good housing, excellent pay, high-quality family, and most importantly, close to me so I can keep an eye on you.” He grinned raffishly at her.

  Her heart had begun pounding a steady, but fervent cadence against her chest. He was making plans already, she could see it in his face. She adored him, loved what he was suggesting, admired his determination to watch over her, but…

  “I have something to tell you,” she said slowly, unable to return his smile.

  He caught the serious tone and he stopped their walking. “What?” he asked, looking closely.

  She released a slow, soft exhale, swallowed, and met his eyes steadily. “I have a child.”

  Colin stared at her for the space of seven heartbeats, only able to blink, his mind seeming to move backwards at a snail’s pace. He could not seem to understand the relatively simple words that had just come from her mouth.

  A child? How was that even possible?

  He swallowed as his mind laughed at him. Of course, he knew it was possible, and he knew how, but he had never thought, for one moment…

  “A child?” he asked, his voice not nearly the steady, unaffected air he would have liked.

  Susannah seemed to sense his turmoil. She gave him the slightest smile and tried to pull her hand away again. He wished she wouldn’t do that. He was not going to let her go, and at this moment, her hand was the only thing anchoring him to the ground.

  Her eyes widened at his increased hold. She swallowed and wordlessly tilted her head in a question.

  He somehow managed to hold her gaze. He might be tossed about, might not know what to think about her being a mother, but he was not so far gone that he was stupid enough to let her pull away now.

  “Yes,” she said at last, her smile returning with a quizzical curve, “a son.”

  A son. His Susannah had borne her husband a son. An heir, if they were at such a height in Society. Faintly, it occurred to him to wonder if this boy looked like his mother or his late father. At least six different faces sprang into mind as he imagined this lad, some looking like Susannah, some looking like various men he had seen around London, and one that looked too much like him for comfort.

  He fought the urge to shake his head to dismiss that one. That, at least, was one he knew did not exist.

  The twinge of disappointment at the thought was something he was entirely unprepared for.

  “Tell me about him,” he asked, suddenly having the most intense desire to know everything.

  He was not so polite as to have entirely innocent motives. He felt this churning in his stomach, something bitter and snarling that wanted to hate her for daring to have another man’s child. But his better nature tamped that urge down and kept the beast contained. He may not know what he would do with this information once he had it, he might harbo
r some resentment that was irrational and immature, but he did know that Susannah was his friend, was rapidly becoming more important to him, and if she had a child to think of, that meant he would deal with that as well.

  Susannah looked as though she would refuse to tell him, as her eyes searched his, still uncertain and untrusting. But eventually, she relaxed once more in his hold and he felt her fingers curl around his arm in an unspoken expression of gratitude.

  “His name is Freddie,” she said softly, unable to keep from smiling. “He is seven years old, and already too smart for me to keep up with.”

  Colin found himself smiling with her. “Seven?” he asked, quickly doing the simple math. “That seems…” He trailed off as he realized there was no polite way to say what he was thinking.

  But Susannah caught his meaning and her smile turned fixed. “He was an accident. My husband let me know very early on that he had no intention of producing children with me, though he was eager enough with others. He went to great pains to prevent a child on those occasions he was bored enough to visit his wife. One night he had too much to drink, and…” She shrugged lightly, but Colin saw the coiled tension in her frame.

  There was far more to the story than she was sharing with him. Now was not the time for further exploration into it, but he would not let this go.

  “So Freddie was born after that?” he asked, shifting topic away from her husband.

  She nodded. “My husband was… less than pleased. He wanted me to get rid of it. Always calling him ‘it,’ even after he was born. He paid him no mind, except when he had to, and we liked it that way. Freddie has no real memories of his father, and he is far better for it.”

  Colin’s bitter and snarling monster was threatening to roar to life for entirely different reasons. He found himself disappointed that this man was already dead, because he would dearly have loved to put him there himself. Any man who wished to rid the world of an infant deserved to have the world rid of him. And to treat Susannah with apparently no more interest was the most idiotic and blasphemous thing he had ever heard.