Blythe covered her face. “He wouldn’t listen.”
“So I gathered. Is it true what Archibald said about leasing Walden Hall?”
Blythe pressed her hand to her brow. “I don’t know. My stepson has not shared any such plans with me. If they exist, he is yet to inform me of his intentions for Walden Hall.”
Leopold patted her arm awkwardly. “Mercy has gone to fetch Edwin. She thought the boy would turn your mind from the unpleasantness.”
A tear fell down her cheek as she nodded. “Edwin is a balm on any blighted day.”
“It’s the dimples,” Leopold said without smiling as he handed over his handkerchief.
A laugh escaped her control. “Only a father would claim that.”
He grinned, displaying both deep dimples in his cheeks.
Blythe pressed the linen to her eyes. She needed more comfort than a square of linen and her sister’s future husband’s presence. She needed something better. Safer. A sob tore from her throat and Leopold drew her into his arms. “He’s gone now,” he said.
His embrace was light and she didn’t push him away immediately. She was keenly aware that Leopold wasn’t at all like Tobias and it was his embrace she wished for.
She eased away from Leopold and dabbed at her eyes. Tobias had never forced his attentions on her, except once, and she wasn’t sure if their first kiss had even been given because he desired her. She had never wanted anyone but Raphael until now.
When Tobias kissed her, she never considered asking him to stop, but he always drew away before things became too heated between them. It shocked her that Tobias’ improper pursuits these past weeks had been more gentlemanlike than her proper suitors. Tobias had completely turned her head around.
Twenty
Tobias glanced about the flower strewn parlor of Wimple Hall and held in a groan. He had forgotten to bring a posy of flowers for his dance partner as he belatedly recalled he should. He hoped Miss Trimble didn’t hold it against him. “You look lovely today, Miss Trimble. I wanted to thank you for the dance last night.”
And indeed she did look lovely and sweet and perfectly composed. Her soft honey blonde hair was swept back in an elegant bun. Her gown, a white spotted affair, clung in all the right places. Tobias was impressed by her poise and elegance. A far cry from the misery he’d discovered her in last night.
“Thank you, sir,” Miss Trimble replied softly, eyes downcast and demure.
Her companions were not quite so demure. Miss Francesca and Miss Helena Trimble raked him with bold looks. He recognized Francesca as the woman who had lured him toward Lord Archibald and company on the terrace last night.
“Were you really a sailor, Mr. Randall?” Helena asked.
“Yes, I served a decade at sea.”
Francesca grinned, sitting forward eagerly. “In Lord Nelson’s Navy?”
“No, I was aboard a privately owned vessel.” He’d leave out the finer details for now. He’d rather see if Miss Trimble could like him before he told her, and her family, the full story.
A frown pulled at Miss Trimble’s brow. “Why were you not fighting against old boney with the English?”
Tobias cursed under his breath. Being a sailor in Lord Nelson’s navy was held in far more esteem than what his life at sea would be. However, while he might omit certain facts initially, he refused to lie and pretend he’d been fighting for England just to impress the girl. “I was sent away by my family. I had no say in the matter of where I went.”
“Oh,” Miss Trimble murmured, and then fell silent.
Francesca, the older of the sisters, caught his eye. “How long are you to remain at Romsey Abbey?”
“A few more weeks yet I imagine. But I will be making my home here again, at Harrowdale, just a few miles distant. I hope to be very comfortable there.”
The sisters shared a long look. “That is wonderful news. Do let us know when you move. I don’t believe any of us are familiar with the Harrowdale estate. We should all like to visit there one day and come to know you better. We shall persuade our brother to call on you as soon as you are settled.”
It would be a dark day before he’d ever invite Lord Archibald to cross his threshold, but if he married Miss Trimble he would be guided by her wishes. However, the sisters could come to call if they choose. He could easily ignore Francesca’s duplicity in the events of last night if it made Miss Trimble happy.
A slow blush crept up Miss Trimble’s cheeks. “Francesca,” she chided. “You should not speak for your brother until you know how he feels.”
Francesca laughed. “If I waited for my brother, nothing would ever be done around here and we would see no one at all and do nothing.”
Tobias grinned. “I shall look forward to having you join me there.”
It was impossible not to compare Miss Trimble’s reticence with her cousins outgoing personalities. Maybe demure didn’t suit him after all. But could he discount an alliance with her on such a short acquaintance?
Miss Trimble smiled, but then lapsed into a long silence.
Devil take it! Where was Blythe when he needed her? Polite conversation was not his forte. He suffered through a few more moments of silence before he remembered manners dictated he need only stay a quarter hour. He cast a quick look at the clock, discovered his time was up, and took his leave.
Miss Trimble followed him out to his horse. “I’m so sorry about my cousin’s impertinent questions. They like to know everything about everyone. They do mean well.”
Tobias took the reins from the servant. “Miss Trimble, your cousins are a breath of fresh air. I look forward to seeing you again, and them, often. Until next time.”
He swung up into the saddle and glanced up at the sky just as the heavens opened up. Miss Trimble squealed and ran for shelter, robbing him of any chance of further conversation.
He rearranged his great coat tighter about him to keep out the rain, and lifted his hand to wave farewell to Miss Trimble. However, she had vanished inside the house and he couldn’t see her at a window anywhere.
With a sigh, he kicked his horse toward Romsey Abbey, congratulating himself on his first call to the well-dowered Miss Trimble. She appeared nice enough. Although shy today, she had spoken her mind well enough to him last night. Her dowry would make their life together comfortable.
However, as they had conversed he had noticed his own shortcomings. His blood wasn’t stirred by her presence in the least. Certainly not the way it did when he was near Blythe. Perhaps time alone and a longer acquaintance would remedy that small disappointment. She could make some man a fine wife. He just didn’t know if he wanted her for himself.
Halfway home, Lord Archibald’s coach and four thundered past him and splattered his horse and his coat with filthy water. Tobias cursed after the departing carriage. A prig and just plain rude. He kicked his mount onward to Romsey, fighting to retain his resurrected good mood.
At the stables, a groom grumbled over the state of the horse and quickly led the beast away into the stables. Tobias shook the rain from his hat and stared at the abbey uneasily. He didn’t want to go back inside. Lord Archibald had left, but there would still be talk of alliances and suitors to endure. He couldn’t remain here forever. Resigned, he drew in a deep breath, but a movement caught his eye. Beth Turner and her son darted into the walled herb garden. Since he’d missed his chance to talk to her earlier, Tobias hurried to catch up.
“Beth, hold a moment,” he called to the woman. “You, Mrs. Turner, are a hard woman to pin down.”
Beth smiled pleasantly from under her umbrella. “I have a lot to do. George is helping me pick some herbs to dry and then I must return to my duties with the countess. I cannot be caught tarrying in conversation on my second day.”
“I’m sure Lady Venables won’t mind. In fact, I’m sure she may be occupied for much of the afternoon.”
“Oh.” She ruffled her son’s hair. “See what you can discover in the garden, George. I’m told there
are many varieties with good scent.”
“Yes, Mama.” The boy ran ahead of them, barely keeping himself under his umbrella.
Tobias held out his arm.
Beth scowled at it. “I should not. Besides being soaked through with rain and muddy, too, do you wish to see me dismissed for tardiness?”
Tobias lowered his arm in dismay. “You are one of my oldest acquaintances. I’ll not slight you by refusing to treat you well.”
Beth clutched her cloak tighter about her. “Any friendship between us ended long ago. I’m Lady Venables servant now, much farther below the Randall’s than I ever was before.”
Tobias removed his soggy gloves and stuffed them in a pocket. “Mother would scold you if she heard you speak of yourself in such a manner. She thought very well of you, Beth. Almost like a daughter.”
“Any of that. . . What I mean to say is that none of that matters now. I put those days behind me when I married Mr. Turner. It’s best to forget what will never be.”
“I, however, shall cling to hope.” Tobias stepped forward and brushed his knuckles across her cheek, catching a tear as it fell. “Did my brother ever know about mother’s plans?”
Beth drew in a shuddering breath. “No, and I beg you to refrain from mentioning the matter should he return. It was just a dream and long over. You were never supposed to learn of your mother’s ambitions when you did.”
“I was an inquisitive boy. That hasn’t changed either. I have a question to ask of you. One that you will likely find impertinent, but I need a woman’s opinion. One who has loved and lost. Don’t ask why. Did you come to love Turner in the end?”
Beth’s stare made him squirm where he stood. She really did have a lot in common with her employer. “I cared for him very much. He treated me well and I grieved when he died. Excuse me, I must return to my duties.”
Tobias dissected her words carefully as she hurried away. Cared for and treated well did not sound like a passionate, loving marriage. Just a comfortable one. Perhaps that was all he should expect from a marriage to Miss Trimble if he was fortunate enough to secure her agreement. She may never forget her affection for Lord Archibald, her first love, but he could make sure she never regretted her choice in marrying him.
With that goal in mind, Tobias braced himself to be happy and headed inside out of the weather.
~ * ~
Heat stole over Blythe’s cheeks as Mercy laughed at her retelling of the worst proposal of marriage ever to have occurred. Unlike her sister, Blythe struggled to find any humor in the situation. She was embarrassed and uncomfortable. If not for Mercy’s presence, she would have fled upstairs and hidden herself away. “This is no laughing matter, Mercy. I’m still in shock.”
“If you had accepted his suit I would never have forgiven you.”
“Because of Emma.” Emma would be devastated that Lord Archibald had proposed to her. Blythe couldn’t expect his early morning visit to have gone unnoticed. News that he’d come courting and been refused would spread. Servants couldn’t be relied upon to hold their tongue over such a juicy bit of gossip. The fact that Archibald had consulted with Venables of all things, too, just added to her distress. Her stepson couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.
“No. Because you do not love him,” Mercy clarified. “He isn’t the man you need.”
She eyed her sister’s superior expression with surprise. “What do you think I need? Not that I want to marry again of course.”
Mercy caught her hand and squeezed. “I cannot tell you, but I am sure you will know him when he captures your attention.”
“You speak in riddles. Please, no more today.” She glanced about the chamber, wishing Tobias would appear. Luncheon had come and gone without him. She would worry, except she had a feeling he’d simply returned to Harrowdale. He was planning on living there soon and the place did need attention. Still, she wished he’d asked her to go with him. She could use something to do rather than reliving that terrible excuse for a kiss that Lord Archibald had forced on her.
Mercy tucked her feet up beneath her and laid her head against the back. “Was Archibald’s kiss really that bad or are you afraid to say you liked it because of Raphael? You know he would understand if you were attracted to someone else.”
“Raphael had nothing to do with my reaction. It was worse than terrible. I fear Archibald may have bruised me.” She brushed her fingers across her lips, wishing she could remember Tobias’ tender kisses instead of Lord Archibald’s harsh possession.
A door opened behind her back and, as she started to turn to see who came in without knocking, Mercy whispered. “We need to find you someone who kisses better.”
Tobias stood at the doorway, hat in hand and soaked to the skin and dripping muddy water all over the marble floor. “What is wrong? Wilcox said you wished to see me urgently.”
Mercy laughed as she approached him. “Not so urgent that you couldn’t have dried off first. We missed you at luncheon today.”
Blythe had missed him more.
“Sorry. I misjudged the distance to Miss Trimble’s residence and the time the call would take.” Tobias’ gaze flickered about the room restlessly, looking anywhere but at Blythe. “What can I do for you, Your Grace?”
Blythe held herself still, wondering why Tobias wouldn’t look at her. Calling on Miss Trimble was polite, but his behavior troubled her. Had Emma convinced him that she was right to be upset over the dancing last night? She shifted closer to better see his expression.
“Wilcox,” Mercy called. “Please obtain a towel for Mr. Randall before he catches his death.” She ushered him toward the fire and lifted his ruined hat from his hands. “Well, I wanted to tell you the news that my sister received an offer of marriage this morning.”
Tobias held his hands out to the flames and kept his face averted. “I believe you suspected as much earlier in the day. Congratulations, my lady.”
Mercy sat his hat on a side table. “What I hadn’t suspected was the fervor my sister inspired in her suitor.”
Tobias’ lips twisted into a grimace. “Fervor?”
Mercy laughed and gestured in her direction. “I’ll leave Blythe to explain the particulars and the effect of his zeal. However, to be clear, there will not be another wedding yet. My sister refused Lord Archibald and his nine thousand a year.”
Tobias spun about and stared at her. “You turned him down?”
She nodded slowly watching his expression change to one of puzzlement. Had he really thought she would accept an offer of marriage from the man she barely knew? She would never choose a man for something as superficial as material possessions. That hadn’t been why she’d married Raphael.
She’d married because she’d loved everything about her husband, despite the backlash of feeling from her friends. He had been much older than Blythe and married before. Blythe had known and not cared a whit for any of that or for his title.
“In fact,” Mercy continued, my sister had to refuse him three times in as many minutes. Where is Wilcox with that towel? You’ll catch a chill. Excuse me while I hurry him up.”
Mercy slipped from the room.
Tobias took a pace toward her. “Why would you turn him down? He’s rich enough to look after you well.”
Blythe approached him. “My friend is in love with him and I’m not.”
“Archibald is a fool. Miss Trimble deserves so much better,” he declared hotly.
Blythe studied Tobias, puzzled that he appeared so concerned for Emma and on such a slight acquaintance. “She does indeed, but her heart is full of him. Perhaps he will come to his senses one day.”
“Hearts can change and it will serve him right if she’s cold to him by the time he realizes her worth.” Tobias shrugged. “What did Mercy mean by ‘zeal’?”
Blythe rubbed her arms, suddenly cold. “Lord Archibald offered for me, and then refused to believe I was in earnest. He was uncomfortably insistent. Your brother was kind enough to intervene and sug
gest he leave.”
Tobias’ brow rose. “Suggest he leave? My brother never suggests, he demands. Just how did Lord Archibald attempt to convince you?”
Blythe shuddered at the memory. “He kissed me and I sincerely wished he hadn’t.”
Tobias’ hand rose to her face and his damp thumb brushed across her bottom lip gently. “Many men want to kiss you.”
Blythe leaned into his touch. “But not every man may. I choose to be selective.”
The corner of Tobias’ lips lifted. “Is that so? Well, that man should consider himself blessed.”
His head lowered and his lips brushed over hers gently. Blythe jerked back as a drip of water landed beside her eye. She wiped it away.
Rather than be offended, Tobias grinned. “Perhaps we should continue this discussion another time when I’m not drenched and dripping water all over you.”
Blythe swallowed, overcome with anxiety. After her encounter with Lord Archibald, she didn’t want any more misunderstandings. She didn’t mean to lead Tobias on, but his touch and kisses were drugging and made her forget herself. “We cannot continue like this,” she whispered, keeping her eyes fixed on his soggy cravat. “I’m so sorry. I’ve led you to believe that I could, was considering, more, but that isn’t the case. I’m not the kind of woman to engage in an affair.”
“I know,” he whispered. “You deserve better than my undeserving attentions.”
Blythe could feel the pull of attraction between them and resisted. She’d never encountered a harder challenge than this. “We shouldn’t be alone anymore.”
She might enjoy the way Tobias held her, and kissed her, but she had always thought scathingly of women who engaged in casual affairs. While she could now understand the temptation a dalliance offered, she wasn’t prepared to relinquish her morals for a temporary fling with him.
Tobias stepped back and bowed. “I understand, my lady.”
Forsaking the Prize Page 18