by Sue London
Something in that most perverted of thoughts awoke his sense of honor. He stumbled and knocked over the stool in his hurry to escape. She wavered on her feet, looking for all the world like what she was. A woman who had been well and thoroughly kissed. He tightened his hands into fists at his side.
"Miss Minett, I am so very sorry."
She blinked slowly at him as though she had just awakened or he had spoken a foreign language.
"Teddy," she said, her voice soft and a bit uncertain.
"It would be best, that is to say, I should not have-- Miss Minett, please accept my apologies."
She looked confused and stepped toward him, but Artie took two steps backward. He saw when the reality of their situation dawned on her. Could he have, he would have saved her the mortification.
"The fault lies with me," he assured her. "We need not speak further of it. And as for your original question, I can guarantee sixty toys will be ready by the day."
She nodded, back to her typical mute self. She opened her mouth as though to say something, then closed it and simply rushed away.
Artie picked up the stool to right it and considered throwing it across the room. What the bloody hell had he been thinking? Sweet little Teddy Minett deserved far better than to be pawed at by some penniless fourth son with no prospects. If Bernie still lived then Artie would be due a thrashing. Wouldn't even try to defend himself, as there was no defense. Had he the blunt for it, or she the inheritance, he would have offered for her after such a display. But she was the one gently bred girl in the county even poorer than himself. She needed to marry up perhaps even more desperately than himself. He would always have his brother, his relation to a duke, either as an uncle or cousin. When her parents passed on she would have nothing but her husband.
He finally set the stool down without throwing it. He carefully selected six small chunks of wood to work with and began carving again.
Chapter Eight
Teddy rushed back along the path they had taken through the house, barely taking time to register the richness of their furnishings and decor. Reeves was at the front door with her pelisse as though he expected her.
"I've had them bring the carriage around, miss. I trust that is all right?"
"Yes," she said, unable to meet the man's eyes. "Thank you, Reeves."
Shortly Bernice hurried up from the kitchens and they were bundled in a carriage and on their way home. Her maid was apparently mollified enough by this improvement in their travel to keep any grumbling to herself, leaving Teddy to her own thoughts. That was, quite honestly, not for the best. She rested her forehead against the cold glass and endeavored not to cry.
In her dreams it had all been very simple. Artie would kiss her and ask her to marry him and they would live happily ever after. That hadn't been what happened at all. He kissed her, and then rejected her. She might be sheltered and ignorant of much of the ways between men and women, but she knew enough to know what that meant. He didn't consider her marriageable. She was now soiled, her reputation hanging by the thin thread of his silence. Why not tell everyone how she had come to his home and kissed him, like some sort of brazen strumpet? Even someone looking on would think her to be the aggressor, the seducer. She was ruined and didn't even care. He was the one man she loved. If he didn't want her, then what did it matter?
They still had a fortnight of working together for Jack Valentine. Never had a stretch of time seemed as eternal and intractable.
By the time the carriage rolled to a stop in front of her parents' home, Teddy's shock and sadness had changed to anger. How dare he betray her fifteen years of adoration in such a way? He thought she wasn't good enough for him? That only meant he wasn't good enough for her. She marched into the house with a new sense of purpose. This was going to be the best Jack Valentine and she'd not let him ruin it. There were dozens of children in Aylsham who depended on their largess for toys and food and she would devote her heart to them rather than some man who thought her only good for a shameful tussle.
The next morning a small box arrived for her from the Graham household. Six perfectly carved roses were nestled inside, but there was no note. She knew it to be further apology for something they would not speak of. After strongly considering throwing them into the fire, she settled for shoving the box into the back of her chest of drawers.
***
Artie convinced himself that completing his carvings was far more important than attending the committee meetings. He sent a note to their chair, to Teddy, by way of Lady Hargrove the day of the next meeting. He tried very hard to think of her as Miss Minett, as their committee chair, as anything that made her once again a distant, somewhat unimportant person. But his mind unerringly went back to thinking of her as Teddy. Of seeing her amber eyes sparkling with humor and delight when he handed her that little bunny.
The squirrel and bunny still sat on a shelf above his workbench, as rough cut as they had been when he handed them to her. It was as though to his mind they were the only witnesses to what had happened. Did he expect them to somehow be able to explain it to him? He had far overstepped any decency or morality in his treatment of Miss Minett, sister of his long-dead friend, daughter of devoted parents. A girl who deserved to be treated with honor. But even in his private thoughts he couldn't remain as respectful as he'd always been to her before. His mind would stray to their kiss. Was it even fair to characterize it as a kiss? Wasn't it, instead, lovemaking that they had fortunately stopped before something irreparable had happened?
A small, stubborn part of him refused to listen to the better part of sense. He suspected that was the part that had convinced him to bury his reservations in the splendor of her lush lips. It needled him with thoughts of what could have happened. How he could have put his hand under her skirts or pulled her tight against his crotch. She would have let him. Might have whimpered or gasped or moaned her pleasure. The sounds she made haunted his dreams at night, awoke him with a rampaging lust that made him wish he could feel her warm curves again.
Why did sweet little Teddy Minett have to be the woman who made him feel this way? Had his thoughts about marriage simply alighted on a wholly inappropriate woman because she had been in the right place at the right time? Or was it something about Teddy herself that he had missed for all these years? He had never put more effort into perfecting carvings than he had those six little roses he sent over to her. He'd thrown out two of the original pieces he'd started because they hadn't been good enough. Nothing would ever be good enough to apologize for what he'd done. Teddy deserved better than his treatment, better than him.
He stayed at his bench, focused on his work.
Chapter Nine
In some ways Teddy was irritated that she'd wasted all that time worrying about seeing Artie again when he'd sent the note to Lady Hargrove. The part of her that still had a care for him thought it had been considerate of him not to make her face him after the incident. If she had her way she would squash that part like a bug under her shoe. She'd already learned what caring for him did for her. Rather than dwell on it, she threw herself into Jack Valentine preparations.
Miss Haste seemed delighted with Teddy's enthusiasm, and pitched in especially with suggestions for how to run the men ragged with errands. The more it irritated Mr. Kellen, the more delighted Miss Haste was. Teddy didn't care overly, so long as their preparations were well underway. They would distribute more food and toys to more families than they ever had before. Every kitchen of the volunteers was busy, baking buns and biscuits. The men had all assembled their Jack Valentine costumes of black jackets and top hats, with a simple black mask to go over their eyes in case anyone might be close enough to try to recognize them. The men had also been beholden to follow the women on a shopping trip in Norwich to carry packages for all the extra goodies that would accompany the toys and pastries.
When Artie still hadn't appeared at a meeting for over a week, Teddy began to relax. She was almost starting to feel like Miss Hast
e was a friend, which was quite lovely. Lauren was feisty and confident in ways that Teddy couldn't begin to imagine. Her fascination with tormenting Mr. Kellen was troubling, but perhaps that was what came of knowing that men weren't to be trusted. However, Teddy felt her bruised heart slowly healing. Enough so that during one meeting she told Lauren about the dream she'd had the morning before their first meeting.
"You didn't see what was in it! That's not fair." Lauren considered for a moment and then said,"But I suppose it's good in a way. It could be anything, so if you were to receive the gift in real life you can't be disappointed by what's inside."
Teddy was surprised by hearing Mr. Kellen's voice nearby. "I'm never disappointed by what's inside." Something in his tone made his words sound scandalous, an impression confirmed by Mr. Hargrove sniggering.
Lauren merely frowned at him. "Somehow I always am," she retorted.
"Miss Haste, you wound me."
"Then bleed out," Lauren muttered under her breath, too softly for Mr. Kellen to hear. Teddy did not like Mr. Kellen at all and didn't understand why Lauren maintained this vicious flirting with him.
"It was just a silly dream," Teddy said, wanting desperately not to have everyone's attention on her. "Have all the baskets been collected?"
"Perhaps I'll go check on that now," Mr. Kellen said. Teddy knew his tone meant he was leaving the room before he could receive another assignment. That was fine with her.
***
"You have callers, Mr. Graham."
For a moment Artie was terrified that Miss Minett had returned. What would he do with her? Short of kiss her until she was senseless, which seemed to be the only thing his fevered imagination could focus on these days. He had begged off all social obligations for over a week but his mother had been surprisingly indulgent about it. In that time he'd only had his carving, and thoughts of Teddy.
She'd been such a sweet little girl, always trailing after them, with her fingers stuck in her mouth and those big brown eyes watching everything they did. He'd never found her half so annoying as Bernie did, which made some sense as she wasn't his sister. Bernie had admired Artie's eldest brother Chuck, which was something Artie never could understand at the time. In retrospect it was perfectly logical, as Bernie saw himself as an eldest brother who would one day head his family. Chuck was the closest thing Bernie had to a hero. Artie had gone off to school and Bernie had stayed home. The Minetts had said it was because they were worried over Bernie's health and safety, and as they lost five children in infancy the county understood the protectiveness. Unfortunately, Bernie had died while jumping a horse. A horse he had 'borrowed' from a neighbor. Had he been at school the accident never would have happened.
At the time Artie had been angry that the Minetts hadn't sent Bernie to school, but later had learned that they couldn't have afforded it even if they wanted to. The death of a bored and lonely young man had been, it seemed, inevitable. Teddy had only been ten years old at the funeral, a tiny figure in black with shining brown hair and luminous eyes brimming with tears. Her mother had indulged the girl by allowing her to bring her gray cat, wrapped in a dark blanket and clutched to her chest. He knew she had kept the name he'd suggested for the little creature, Pellinore. At a young age he had been obsessed with the Arthurian tales, even fancying for a while that he had been named after the king until his mother said he'd been named after her favorite uncle.
Then he hadn't seen Teddy for some years, until after he came back from Cambridge and his mother began relying on him to squire her about on social calls. Little Teddy had grown into a lovely young woman, but one who kept primarily to herself, only saying 'please' and 'thank you' and 'could you pass the sugar' at tea. Or keeping her comments simply to 'yes' and 'thank you' at assemblies, those being the two phrases that bracketed her dances. She danced with a joy that reminded him of the capricious little sprite she'd been as a child. Too sweet to be called a hoyden, but climbing too many trees to be called anything else.
None of that, however, helped to divine who might be calling on him. Reeves' dour expression was a clue. Not Miss Minett then. Teddy was one of the few people that Reeves seemed to have a genuine affection for. Once Artie had come to his senses that Teddy was going to have to walk home, he'd been relieved to find out that Reeves had already taken care of making sure she had use of the carriage.
"Who is it?" he finally asked.
"The misters Hargrove, Kellen, and Knowles."
The men from the Jack Valentine committee. Bloody hell, what did they want? It would be unseemly to ask Reeves to toss them out.
"Very well. I'll be there presently. Please ensure the gentlemen have refreshments."
"Very good, sir."
Chapter Ten
After the meeting Teddy retired to her room, but found Bernice going through her clothes for laundering.
"It looks as though you sat in something in this one, miss." The maid held out the blue walking dress that Teddy hadn't so much as looked at since That Day. It still loomed large in her imagination, though she endeavored not to think on it. That Day when her hopes for marriage and happiness had been dashed. When the man she idolized had treated her as a common trollop.
Teddy took the dress from Bernice's hands because it seemed the maid would keep holding it out to her, and looked at the stain because it was expected. She hadn't needed to look to know what it was, though. Arthur Graham's blood, from the finger he had nicked carving that adorable little bunny right before he kissed her. There wasn't much of it, just a small smear that had dried to a dark brown against the blue.
"This will be fine, Bernice. I'll handle it." Teddy hoped her voice didn't sound too tight as she spoke around a welling of unshed tears. Bernice merely shrugged and gathered up some other garments for washing. Once the maid left her room Teddy locked the door. Then she crawled on the bed with her walking dress and finally gave in to the tears that she had ruthlessly repressed for over a week. She wasn't sure if Artie's scent still clung to her dress or it was only her imagination, but it made her cry all the harder. Fifteen years of love, of dreams, of hope. And what had it all come to? Heartbreak.
She hadn't cried like this since Bernie died. He was the only sibling she had ever really known. The last babe had been born after her, but she had been so young she hadn't remembered him. She knew her parents felt cursed at times, and stayed close to them to assuage their fears. It had caused a hitch in her heart when Artie had said she might catch her death of cold when she walked to his house. If she were to do that it might very well kill her parents. How had they survived the heartbreak of losing so many children? Certainly the death of a child was an even greater burden on the heart than what Teddy was feeling now. She didn't want to overestimate her own grief and pain.
In some ways it was a death, though. The death of everything she had planned and hoped. The death of the man she thought she knew, replaced by whatever creature this was. Was he being considerate by staying away from her now? Or craven? In either case it made her angry and sad. Why couldn't he be the Artie Graham she thought she knew? Saver of cats, hero of young girls, sweet and kind and considerate. She had always loved sitting near him at teas, when they fell into an easy, quiet rhythm of politeness in making sure that each had the tea and biscuits to their liking. Perhaps that had never meant anything to him, but she had always fancied it foretold how their marriage would be. Obviously not.
***
Artie entered the drawing room to find the three gentlemen lounging as though they were at their city club. It was a type of indolence practiced assiduously by the young men of his class, as though there were some benefit to it. Artie himself was naturally lazy to a level that marked him perhaps a bit more fashionable than he really was. But he was hardly feeling relaxed with these young men here drinking his father's brandy.
"Good evening," he said, hoping the formality of his tone would keep the evening on a brisk pace to its conclusion.
"If it isn't Mr. Graham," Mr. Kellen s
aid sharply, as though it might be something of a surprise to have their host appear.
"It is indeed, Mr. Kellen," he said. "I see Reeves has taken care of your drinks. How may I help you?"
Kellen tossed back the content of his glass, then dangled it toward Arthur. "Another, please."
Good manners dictate that he fetch the glass and refill it, regardless of how he might prefer to break it over the annoying man's head. While at the decanters he poured one for himself. It was unlikely that trying to force Kellen's hand would make the man any more forthcoming, so Artie sat down on the free chair and waited for someone to say something.
"You've not been at the meetings," Kellen fished. Clearly the other two were willing to let Kellen be their leader.
"I've been busy. Have they been eventful?"
"Those girls are like to run us ragged. With Miss Minett's encouragement, Miss Haste has been using her devious mind to come up with busy work for us poor males."
Artie had to work to keep from smiling upon hearing that Miss Haste was still torturing Kellen. The damn man deserved that and more. "How unfortunate," he said mildly.
"Yes, well, as you've not been there I thought it was time that you do something."
He hardly wanted to point out that he'd been making the bulk of the toys that they would give out, so merely asked, "Such as?"
"Distract Miss Minett. At first we thought her enthusiasm would abate, but it seems her demands only grow greater with each session. There are only two meetings left between now and the day. There need be nothing else done, unless that little terror incites more action among the ladies. Although what else we might do for the horrid masses, I've no clue."