The Old Maids' Club 02 - Pariah

by Catherine Gayle

  When he pulled back the door, Isaac Shelton stood on the other side of it with his fisted hand in the air, preparing to knock.

  This was not what Roman wanted to see at this precise moment in time.

  “May I come in?” Shelton asked warily, eyeing Roman’s half-naked, sweat-covered frame askance.

  He couldn’t bear to be confined inside for a second longer. Roman picked up his coat from a stand by the door. “No. Walk with me.” He pulled the door closed behind him and started through the snow across the lawn.

  Shelton fell into step beside him. “Bethanne told me you’d found a man who might replace Inwood at the cottage.”

  Well. That was hardly the conversation he’d expected to have with Shelton. Not that he truly had been expecting anything, but it was still somewhat surprising. Maybe the man was going to look after Bethanne and Lady Rosaline as they properly deserved to be looked after. “One of the footmen here agreed to fill the post for the time being. Crandall.”

  “For the time being?” Shelton kicked a mound of snow with his boot, sending it flying several feet in front of them. “Would he not consider taking the post permanently, for the right compensation?”

  “I’m afraid you would have to ask him that, Shelton.”

  He nodded and slowed his gait. “Would you take exception if I were to ask him? He is part of your staff here—”

  “My father’s staff,” Roman interrupted a bit too forcefully. He stopped and scanned the area, searching for somewhere they could sit but remain out in the cool air. Off by the creek, he spied a large, smooth boulder with only a light dusting of snow covering it. Taking off in that direction, he continued. “Crandall may do as he wishes. He makes his own decisions.”

  Shelton kept pace with him. “Thank you for that.”

  “Will your father or Lord Newcastle be paying me a visit?”

  Until they reached the boulder and took a seat, Shelton refrained from responding. He drew a hand over his jaw line and let out a breath. “I wrote them and told them Inwood received word from his family of his mother’s illness when I arrived, and that I’d be staying on at the cottage until I can find a replacement for him. I also requested that my uncle add funds to the household account to hire an additional nurse to help care for Aunt Rosaline.”

  “I take it none of you were unaware of how her illness has progressed.”

  “No. My sister has gone to great lengths to keep her secrets.” He let out a mirthless laugh. “Although I’m sure you’re well aware of that.”

  Roman saw no reason to respond to that statement.

  “In addition to informing them of how serious Aunt Rosaline’s condition has become, I’ve informed them about who Finn really is. Bethanne begged me to allow her to write to Miranda, which I thought was fair.”

  In all of this, Shelton had said nothing about what his family knew of Roman and his involvement. It was perplexing, to say the least. “And when shall I expect someone to call me to task for damaging Miss Shelton’s reputation?”

  “You shouldn’t.”

  Roman shook his head and got to his feet, once again pacing. Blast, but he’d never been one to pace before, and now it seemed to be an everyday occurrence. “But once they know—”

  “What they know,” Shelton interrupted, “is that you have aided my sister at every turn. What they know is that you have done everything in your power to assist her in town, to help with Aunt Rosaline, and to ease Bethanne’s worries. That is what they know, and that is all they need to know. There is no cause to alert them that you’ve slept in the house. Nor is there reason to inform them that Inwood has been gone for months.” Then he met Roman’s eyes with a challenge in his. “Is there? You seem to be a man of honor, Sullivan. My sister wishes nothing more than to protect you, so I don’t know that I can trust her when she says you’ve not compromised her. Have you?”

  In his mind, he’d done far more than simply compromised her. But in truth… “I’ve kissed her, but no more.”

  Shelton’s nose and lip curled almost into a snarl before just as quickly returning to his normal visage. “She loves you, you know.” He stated it as a well-known fact, as something even a simpleton ought to know.

  But whether Roman knew it or not, he didn’t want to believe it. The fact that he loved her was bad enough when he knew he could never trust himself to be with her. The knowledge that she shared his feelings weighed on him as though he were buried beneath the boulder he’d been sitting upon moments before.

  He swallowed, but it felt like rusty daggers going down his throat. “She should love someone else. You ought to help her find someone—a good man deserving of her.”

  “Why do you say that as though you aren’t that very man?”

  Roman scoffed at the thought, and he stopped pacing to stare at the younger man in disbelief. “I can assure you, I am not.”

  “Bethanne would disagree. And the more I’ve learned of you—from her, from the servants, from my nephew, and even from my aunt—the more I’m inclined to take her side on the matter.”

  Bile settled in his stomach at the thought that she would willfully put herself in his path instead of seeking out a man who could be trusted with her safety.

  Shelton stared out for a long moment, and then turned back to Roman. “Whether you’ll reconsider your standing with Bethanne or not, will you assist me in finding a new nurse? You seem to be the one best able to understand my aunt’s needs.”

  “Of course.” Despite his inability to marry Bethanne, he would always want the very best for her.

  “Joyce and Mrs. Temple tell me that you would sit up with my aunt at night…that you can calm her when she has an—an episode. Would you consider continuing that?”

  The pacing began again. “I think,” he said slowly, “it would be best for all involved if I did not spend so much time at the cottage.”

  “Very well, though again, I disagree. Would you help me to learn to do what you do with her?” Shelton implored Roman with his eyes—the same eyes he shared with his sister, which was more than just a little unnerving. “Someone has to be able to calm her.”

  That was a point Roman couldn’t possibly fault. “I would be more than happy to do so.” More and more, it seemed as though Shelton was preparing to stay at the cottage for some time—as though he intended to look after these women as should have been done all along.

  Roman ought to be delighted, but instead he wanted to pummel the next thing to cross his path in order to release his frustrations.

  “Bethanne informed me there have been problems with some of the merchants in town. She said you’d paid for some items out of the Hassop House accounts. If you’ll tell me what we owe, I’ll have it sorted out immediately.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not—”

  “It is necessary, Lord Roman. She is my sister, and she is not your wife. Her expenses are my family’s responsibility, and we will repay what we owe.”

  Everything Shelton said was the truth, and yet Roman wanted her to be his responsibility. “Very well,” he choked out.

  Shelton stood then and smoothed his hands over his coat and trousers. “There’s one final thing before I go.”

  “Go on.”

  “You missed your appointment for tea with Aunt Rosaline yesterday. She missed you.” Shelton took off, and called out over his shoulder, “I’ll ask that you don’t disappoint her again. It is more than enough to have one lady in my care who is disheartened that you haven’t met her expectations. See that you don’t leave me with two.”

  “Fall down!” Finn squealed just before he slapped his hand against the tower he’d studiously built, sending the blocks flying across the floor.

  Bethanne laughed and scooped him up into her arms. “Fall down, indeed. One would think that’s your favorite thing in the entire world, to see something or someone fall down.”

  He giggled and kissed her, then shifted his weight in her arms so that they nearly fell over. “Fall down, Mam
a.”

  She obliged him, toppling them over and then tickling his sides.

  Since Joyce’s injury, Bethanne had taken over Finn’s care. She’d been able to do so since Isaac was here. He could handle all of the matters Bethanne was typically responsible for, at least until they brought on a new manservant and the added nurse he’d suggested.

  Even with all of the secrets she’d revealed to him, Isaac had shocked her with his acceptance of it all. She’d been lying to the entire family for years, and yet the only thing Isaac had said to her in response was, “You’re my sister,” as though nothing else could matter in the entire world.

  He even seemed confident that he could explain things to Father and Uncle Drake in such a way as to ensure their acceptance, as well.

  It was enough to leave Bethanne’s mind reeling.

  Joyce bustled into the music room, wiping her hands on her apron as she came. “Teatime. I’ll get the little man settled for his nap while you join Mr. Shelton and Lady Rosaline.”

  Bethanne passed her son into Joyce’s arms and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you after your nap, sweet one.” Then she picked herself up from the floor, smoothed her skirts, and made her way to the parlor.

  Mrs. Temple met her in the doorway, carrying the tea service. “I do hope we have enough,” the housekeeper murmured.

  Bethanne gave her a quizzical look, but then stepped through the door—and immediately came to a stop. Roman was seated across from a red-clad Aunt Rosaline, just as he had been every day at teatime since his arrival in Hassop, looking settled and comfortable, like he belonged there.

  Bustling past her, Mrs. Temple carried the tray in and set it on the table between them before just as quickly making her exit.

  Bethanne ought to sit down next to Isaac and pour. She ought to play the part of the hostess, but she couldn’t. Her legs wouldn’t move, and her heart couldn’t force them to.

  “He promised me he would be here today, you see,” Aunt Rosaline said, looking abashedly at Roman. She blushed and smoothed her hair, then fidgeted with the quill in her hands. “Christopher would never break his promise to me.”

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t,” Roman replied, but he looked at Bethanne as he said it.

  She turned her eyes away and blinked back tears. Bother and blast, she’d decided she wasn’t going to cry when anyone else could see it, and yet simply his presence was enough to make such a thing difficult if not impossible. It would hurt less if he would simply remove himself completely from her life. Then she wouldn’t have the constant reminder of what she couldn’t have.

  “Bethanne,” Isaac called. “Milk and sugar?” He had apparently decided he wouldn’t wait any longer for her to fulfill her responsibility and was taking the task upon himself.

  She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t sit through tea and make pleasant conversation and pretend her heart hadn’t broken into thousands of pieces when he’d let her walk away from him.

  “I’m feeling unwell,” she said at long last, wishing her wobbling voice wouldn’t betray her. “I believe I’ll go up to my chamber and rest.”

  She made it up to her room and closed the door before allowing the first tear to fall.

  That had been on Friday. Every day for the next week, without fail, Roman arrived for tea with Aunt Rosaline. And every day of that week, without fail, Bethanne found some reason to avoid taking tea with them.

  One time, Finn had hurt himself, and she claimed she must sit with him. Another time, she met with Miss Erskine, the new nurse whom Isaac had hired to look after Aunt Rosaline, going over her new responsibilities even though Isaac had already taken that task upon himself. He was only going to be at the cottage for a limited amount of time, after all. Bethanne would be in charge again at some point. The staff must know they answered to her. The next day, she’d taken the same tactic with Mr. Crandall, the new manservant who’d come over from Hassop House. Yet another time, she begged off due to not sleeping well and needing a nap herself.

  She was quickly running out of viable excuses to avoid sitting with Roman for tea, though she was determined not to give up on the exercise too easily.

  On Thursday, when Joyce knocked at the music room door and poked her head inside, Bethanne was fully prepared, however. “Teatime?” she asked in a singsong voice. “Delightful. Would you be a dear and prepare a separate tray for me to take up? I’d like to share it with Mrs. Wyatt. I fear she’s getting lonesome, not being able to get around very well.”

  Joyce frowned at her. “You can’t avoid him forever, you know.”

  Bethanne busied herself with clearing up the mess Finn had made with his blocks, so no one would accidentally stumble upon them. “I know,” she murmured. And she did know. She was also well aware of the fact that avoidance rarely solved anything and often created even greater problems. Her situation of late was proof enough of that fact. What had avoiding explaining things to her family solved? Not anything, really.

  “Lady Rosaline seems to know herself today. Don’t you wish to spend time with her while she’ll know who you are?”

  Of course, today would be one of those rare days in which Aunt Rosaline’s mind was clear. Bethanne felt like her heart was being ripped in two, with the desire to spend time with her aunt up against the need to avoid another rebuffing from Roman. She blinked back tears, because she refused to allow any more to fall on account of Lord Roman Sullivan. “I’m sure she’ll still be feeling much the same way after her guest has left.”

  With a tsk, Joyce finally said, “Very well. I’ll do it for you this time. Tomorrow will be a different matter, entirely, however.”

  Pursing her lips together, Bethanne nodded. Tomorrow would be a new day. She could face him tomorrow. Somehow.

  Perhaps then she could face the reality of his rejection.

  Mrs. Temple came into the parlor with her tea tray and set it down on the table. “I am so very sorry, Lord Roman, Lady Rosaline, Mr. Shelton. It seems Miss Shelton has promised to take tea with Mrs. Wyatt this afternoon. She wanted to keep her company, what with her broken leg and all.”

  Of course, she did. That and she wanted to avoid Roman. He was no fool. He knew precisely why she hadn’t once joined them for tea in the last week. This is not love.

  “That is very kind of her, isn’t it?” Lady Rosaline said. “Quite thoughtful.”

  Shelton met Roman’s eyes, his expression just as dubious as Roman’s mood.

  Thoughtfulness likely had very little to do with her absence. His presence almost assuredly had a far greater effect upon her decision.

  “Yes, well…” The housekeeper situated the final few items on the tray and then wiped her hands on her apron. “If you need anything else, just ring for me.”

  She’d hardly been gone a few seconds when a knock sounded at the front door.

  “Are you expecting anyone else?” Lady Rosaline asked her nephew.

  Shelton shook his head. “Whoever it is, Crandall will handle it. Would you like to serve today?”

  She set about preparing them all cups of tea and plates of sandwiches and biscuits. Before she’d gotten very far along, however, Crandall cleared his throat at the doorway.

  “I do apologize, but there is a Mr. Talbot here to see you, Mr. Shelton. He says it cannot wait.”

  Roman bit back an oath. What in God’s name did Talbot want now? The grocer was bound and determined to involve himself in matters which were none of his concern. He was a damned nuisance.

  Shelton raised an eyebrow. “Anything I should know before I go speak with the man?”

  Just that he believes your sister to be a lightskirt. Roman kept that thought to himself. Now was neither the time nor the place for such a discussion, not with a clear-headed Lady Rosaline present. “It might have something to do with him refusing to honor your uncle’s line of credit for your sister,” he finally replied. Doubtless, that was one of the many items on Talbot’s agenda for the day.

  “Ah. So he’s on
e of those…” Shelton stood and inclined his head to his aunt. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, Aunt. I’ll just make an appointment with Talbot to discuss whatever he wishes to discuss and be back to you in no time.”

  “Of course,” she replied. “You might also deliver him a message from me?”

  Shelton gave a wry grin. “And what might that be?”

  “Tell that meddler to worry about his own affairs and leave my Bethanne alone, lest I decide to ride into town one day in breeches, plant him a facer, and smoke a cheroot over his bloodied body. That might give him a right good shock, if I do say so myself.”

  Roman stifled a chuckle, but Shelton didn’t even bother to try—in fact, he let out a guffaw loud enough to rouse a sleeping army. “I have missed you, Aunt Rosaline.”

  If this was what she’d been like before her mind started to turn, Roman could well imagine a great many people missed her. There was little wonder that Bethanne and the servants at the cottage were so loyal to her.

  She winked and smiled at her nephew, and he left. Then she turned to Roman with a sparkle in her eye. “And don’t you doubt that I’d do it, either.”

  “I wouldn’t doubt you for a moment, my lady. Tell me, do you ride astride when you wear your breeches?”

  “I ride astride whether I’m wearing breeches or not. Dresses have never stopped me from doing anything I’ve set my mind to do.”

  This time, Roman was unable to stifle his chuckle. “You would be quite a sight.”

  “You’ve no idea.” A plaintive expression came over her eyes. She passed Roman a cup of tea and smiled. “You know, the first time my father caught me riding astride in my skirts was the day I’d gone off to kiss my beau before he left for the war in the colonies. I rode straight into the army encampment with my skirts pushed up past my knees so I could get my feet into the stirrups. That caused quite a stir amongst the soldiers.”

  “If you had come into an encampment with my men in that manner, I can assure you, it would have caused more than just a stir.” An image of Bethanne atop a horse with her skirts up to her knees came into his mind then, along with the reaction a group of soldiers would have to such a sight. He’d have had to fight them off. Lady Rosaline’s beau must have been very confident in her love for him, to allow such a thing without feeling the need to kill half his battalion for daring to ogle his love.