"And I hope I don't need to remind you the eternal consequences upon your soul should you not live up to your commitments, sir," the vicar said bluntly as he watched over Max's departure.
"No, no reminder is needed."
"You may be the heir to Glenwick and you may have the respect of men here in this world, but if you play fast with my daughter's affections, you'll answer to your maker for it."
"I know," Max said without any hint of the frustration he felt. "You've made your position quite clear."
"She deserves better than a man who shows up full of lies and deception."
"I know that."
"She deserves the luxury of time to make her decision. She should not be forced to accept in haste simply because she was lured into a compromising situation."
"I understand, sir. I acted badly; I admit it."
"She deserves a man who can love her forever."
"Now there you will find no fault in me. I do love her. Completely."
"After a mere week of acquaintance?"
"Perhaps after a day. Maybe an hour, sir."
"Sentimental drivel."
"I can only tell you what I know to be true. I am in love with her and have every intention of begging her to have me for a husband."
"And if she refuses, or puts you off in any way?"
"I will make no complaint and I will not breathe one word of my ungentlemanly behavior to anyone."
That was an accurate recitation of the reverend's instructions. Max was beginning to feel a bit like Bartholomew here, being told what to say and how to say it. At this point he half expected the vicar to hand him a biscuit. He did not, though. Simply more rules and reminders.
"You will not use flattery or sugary words to sway her to your will."
"Of course not, sir."
"You will beg her forgiveness for your rash actions."
"Of course I will."
"You will promise her undying faithfulness and loyalty."
"Of course I will."
"You will grovel at her feet if she asks it of you."
"Of course I... wait, what?"
"Will you or won't you, sir?"
"Grovel? Oh, but now sir—"
"I believe God the Almighty would have you grovel, sir."
"Oh, very well. I will grovel if it means she might have me."
At last the vicar's stern face finally broke into a smile.
"Very well, my lord. I think, perhaps, you just might be telling the truth. You do love her."
"I do, sir. More than I could have ever thought possible," Max replied, hoisting his things and standing ready to leave. "
"Good. Now go say your farewells, and God help you both."
The sounds of footsteps and baggage and low voices woke Meg. She roused herself quickly, not having intended to drift off but the late hour and the hectic events of the day made it impossible for her to remain alert. She glanced up, finding Max watching her from the doorway of the drawing room where she had tried to entertain herself with needlework.
"The carriage is here to take me to Glenwick," he said. "I'm sorry to keep the household up at such a late hour."
"I'm sure you'll be much more comfortable at Glenwick," she said, rising from her armchair but too timid to move toward him.
He was leaving. Papa had made his disappointment known when he found them in heated embrace and they'd not had one moment for private conversation since. And now he would be gone. He would be caught up in managing his new estate, he'd be courted by all the local gentry and she'd be lucky to see him on Sundays in church. Her efforts to find ways to be in Max's company would certainly be thwarted by Papa, and this dashing new earl would no doubt find plenty of other things to occupy his time.
"It's been years since I stayed at the Downs," he said. "But I suppose it's where I belong now."
"Yes," she agreed. "It's a fine home. You'll be quite happy there."
There was apparently nothing more to say. Meg could hear men in the entrance way, carrying Max's few things out to the carriage. Papa's voice was out there, too, as he directed them. Yes, Papa would be only too happy to see the man who had lied to them and taken liberties with her gone from their house. It was unlikely he'd ever be invited to return.
She stood dumbly, wishing to God she had the courage to say any of the hundreds of things that she felt. Max was silent, too. Finally he moved, and she involuntarily started. Instead of leaving for his carriage, he marched directly toward her, dropping the lone bag that he carried along the way.
"Dash it all, Meg," he said. "I won't be happy there. Not as long as you're here."
Further amazing her, he swept her into his arms and held her more tightly than he'd held that bag of priceless gems earlier today. She was limp for a moment before her startled body suddenly came to life and she threw her arms around him.
"You belong at the Downs with me," he said. "I promised your father I'd give you time to consider, to allow you to gradually know where your heart stood and make up your mind. I told him I wouldn't press you or use flattery or fancy words... but, by God, Meg, I love you. I want you to marry me, if you will."
He put her just far enough away from him that he could look down into her eyes. She had no idea what he must see there; her shock and surprise overwhelmed her. What had the man said? Had she heard what she thought she heard?
"I know we haven't started off very well," he went on. "I lied, I let you be endangered by my cousin when I should have protected you... I'm afraid I have very little obvious character to recommend me. All I can offer is a centuries old name, a grand title, a beautiful estate, and a pocket full of pirate treasure, but I can promise I'll spend the rest of my life trying to redeem myself in your eyes. Please, consider this groveling, Meg. I love you and I want you to be my wife."
By God, that certainly did sound like what she thought it sounded like. Now if only she could make some sound of her own, she would most definitely accept him.
"I... oh, good heavens," she said, catching her breath. "Of course I'll marry you! Even without all that title and treasure nonsense. I'd marry you if you really were just a parrot trainer."
She wrapped herself around him again. They were interrupted, however, when something loud and large crashed into Max's head, sending them both staggering sideways. He barely managed to hold Meg up from falling and she had to duck as large green wings beat furiously over her.
Apparently Bartholomew had awoken and found Max gone. It seemed he didn't like that arrangement and was now determined to latch onto the man and never let go. Meg could well understand the bird's emotion.
"He doesn't want you to go," she said when the uproar subsided.
"I thought he'd be happy to be rid of me."
"Clearly not. Maybe you really are a parrot trainer, after all."
"I'm going to be a parrot maimer in about a minute if he doesn't remove his claws from my scalp."
"He loves you," she said, trying not to laugh at Max's misfortune. "Perhaps you should take him—and that hideous figurehead—back to Glenwick Downs with you."
"No. Not for a hundred pirate treasures!"
"What? But... it's Bartholomew's home. He'd be so happy to go back there."
"If I take him and Old Dot back there, though, won't you be more inclined to want to stay here?"
Now she laughed, realizing he'd been funning her. "Absolutely not. Do you have any idea what a madhouse this is? Papa brings in strangers off the street and hires them without references, spurious earls turn up twice weekly, and I can't go out of doors without encountering highwaymen! No sir, I'd much rather take my chances living with you and one singularly eccentric bird."
"Well, then, my dear, it is settled," he said, ignoring the bird on his head and pulling her back into his arms. "Bartholomew will return to the Downs and I will be a parrot trainer forever. And," he added just before he kissed her. "Once we are wed I can finally show you my references."
Note from the Author:
; I think I had more fun writing this book than any of my others. Not only did I fall in love with my human characters, but Bartholomew kept me smiling the whole way through.
What's not to love about a big cranky bird?
Plus, I got to play with some really awful limericks.
Incidentally, the term "limerick" was not used to reference the rhyme pattern that we think of today until later in the 19th century. This is why in this story, you will hear all of the verses referred to as "rhymes" when most of them follow the pattern that we think of as a limerick today.
And where did these dreadful rhymes come from? Some were dug out of history, but the majority were crafted by me to specially suit the purposes of this story. If you just can't get enough bawdy rhyme, please visit my website where I have kindly posted these groan-worthy limericks. Look for them in my Fun Stuff section at www.SusanGH.com.
About the Author
Susan Gee Heino thinks the sexiest thing a man can do is engage in witty banter. If he happens to be wearing breeches and a cravat while he does this, all the better. If he comes with a noble title, a tortured past, and perhaps even dimples, then he is just about perfect.
Her lighthearted Regency Romances are full of quirky heroines who tend to feel exactly the same way—at least they do by the end of the book. Usually it takes a little convincing by the cravat-clad hero. But no matter what adventures ensue, the hero always ends up with his lady. And vice versa.
Ms. Heino lives in rural Ohio with her non-cravat-inclined husband, two very remarkable children, and an accidental collection of critters. She loves to hear from readers so please visit her website or connect on social media!
www. SusanGH.com Love's funny sometimes!
Miss Farrow's Feathers Page 21