Nearly a week of the return journey was already gone, and London loomed before her – a return to a life she no longer desired.
She woke early, having become, again, accustomed to the rhythm of life on the ship, and lay in her narrow bed, simply listening, before rising and dressing herself in the plainest of her gowns. She gathered up her journal and pencils, deciding what to do first.
The thought of food appealed, and she had already risen from her seat on the bed, intending to go to the small salon, when she heard footsteps in the passageway outside her door. Footsteps whose rhythm she knew. Gabriel.
She waited a moment, listening, then quietly opened her door and peeked out – just in time to see him disappearing into the salon. Determination surged. She went out and hurried down the passage to the door of the salon. Standing there, she took a very deep breath, quietly praying that there was no one else in there but Gabriel. Then she pushed open the door and went in.
Gabriel, who had been standing, looking out through the porthole, spun around at the sound of the door. For a moment, something flared in his eyes, then his face assumed a calm, bland expression. Which only caused a flare of anger in Primrose.
She stepped forward, bringing herself to within inches of him, her anger bubbling out in a sharp question.
“Why? Why are you so distant to me? What have I done?”
His calm expression flickered, then held steady again.
“Nothing – you have done nothing.”
“And yet you barely speak to me, never touch me – it is as if our kisses had never happened.”
“They should not have.”
“Why?”
“Too many reasons to explain – but surely, you know some of them?”
“Why should you expect me to understand what you believe to be a reason? And why should I accept your reasons as valid?”
He shrugged, as if to say that her belief, or not, was unimportant, and that casual dismissal heated her anger even more.
“You don’t need to. They are my reasons, for me. As I said, you have done nothing.”
“Then perhaps I should do something, for I am not willing to simply accept this distance between us, to accept your cold and uninformative answers. Perhaps my actions will reach you, where it seems that words do not.”
That said, she took the final step forward, pressed herself against him, hard, and reached up to kiss him. It was a kiss full of fierceness, full of her anger, her need and her hurt. A kiss which, after a few moments of stiff resistance, he relaxed into, and returned. She felt as if she might spontaneously combust, so much heat did it raise within her. But then, before any such thing could happen, he forcibly pushed her aside, muttering a curse under his breath, and stormed out of the room.
She would not cry. She. Would. Not. Cry.
As he had been doing before, she stared out at the waves and her anger dissipated, to be replaced by the bone deep ache which his rejection drove into her. Yet again, he had participated in the kiss, then turned away. What might it take, to break through his resistance?
She did not know – but she would not give up.
<<<
Gabriel spent the next few days mostly in his cabin, desperately wanting to see Lady Primrose, yet desperately avoiding her. Over and over, he relived their argument, and the heated kiss that she had pressed upon him. He was a fool, to have allowed himself to participate in that kiss, but he had wanted it, so very badly. Wanted it, but knew that he should not. To continue, when he was quite certain that any relationship between them was doomed by the strictures of society was madness, and most dishonourable.
But the memory tortured him. He knew now, that he loved her, and suspected that he would always do so. Quite how he was going to live without her, to watch as she eventually made a suitable match, he did not know. All he was certain of was that he had no choice. The events on the island had proved, categorically, that her association with him, with the activities of a merchant, put her in danger.
The few times he saw her, as the ship made its way steadily back to Portsmouth, and their eyes met, he forced himself to turn away. It was obvious that it hurt her, every time he did so. Still, he hardened himself, and made certain that he was not trapped again, was not seduced by his own desires, into acting dishonourably.
He had never been so miserable in his life.
The last night of their journey, once everything was packed away, save what he would need for that night and the next day, he sat on his narrow bed in his cabin, staring out through the small porthole at the night dark sea, watching the moonlight catch glints off the top of the gentle waves. All was quiet, and he knew that he should rest, but he could not.
Then, as he sat there, a sound came to him, a sound not of the ship and the sea, but of the movement of someone in the passageway outside his door. He turned his gaze in that direction, curious, and then, without warning, the door opened, and someone entered, quickly closing it behind them.
Shock held him motionless.
It was Lady Primrose, here, in the last place that she should be.
Chapter Nineteen
Primrose had debated her course of action for days, without reaching any useful conclusion. Now, on their last night aboard ship, she found herself desperate. Tomorrow, she would be back on English soil, tomorrow, the life she had left behind would begin to claim her again, to draw her back into the world where her art was regarded as a barely acceptable passing amusement for a lady, not anything serious. The world where she was expected to marry a gentleman of the ton, and live out her life between London and some country estate, never venturing further in the world.
She could not bear the thought of it. That was not the life she wanted. She wanted to marry Gabriel, not some dull young man who only cared that her father was a Duke, who did not see her for herself. But Gabriel had been steadfast in his rejection of her, no matter the pain she saw in his eyes when she did manage to get him to meet her gaze. She needed an answer from him, needed, desperately, to understand why he turned away.
He had wealth enough, and the respect of much of society, so she did not understand what drove him to act as he did.
As the evening progressed, her desperation grew, until she could bear it no longer. She rose, from where she sat on her bed, and slipped out into the passageway. His cabin door was only a few steps away, yet those seemed the longest steps she had ever taken.
She hesitated, then swallowed her fear and her pride, and opened the door, slipping quickly inside. If he was in his sleeping attire, so be it, she was not going to give him a chance to refuse her entry, to refuse to talk to her. Heart pounding, she shut the door, and leant back against it, only then allowing herself to look about the small cabin, allowing her eyes to find him.
He was sitting on the bed, still almost fully clothed – lacking only his cravat and his jacket. He was so still that he might have been a statue, his gaze locked on her, his face a picture of utter shock. A bubble of near hysterical laughter rose in her at the sight. Surely he knew her well enough by now to not expect her to behave with propriety?
She pushed the laughter down. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms, to demand that he kiss her, to somehow make the last few weeks disappear. She did not – there were limits to just how much of her pride she could abandon.
“I will not leave, until you answer me. I cannot live with not knowing why you have rejected me like this.”
His eyes widened at her words, and he looked away from her, but not before she had seen the pain in his expression, the pain so like her own.
She waited, determined to force him to speak, for fear that, if she continued, she would not be able to stop. After some time, he looked back at her, his face composed, his feelings hidden.
“Lady Primrose, it is very simple. I have considered everything, and I realise that society will never accept any association between us. In addition, it has become obvious that your association with my merchant vent
ures has put you in danger – and I am not willing to allow that to happen again. It is better if we allow the moments that we shared to fade into memory, and focus on the day to day world which we live in, the world which we will step back into, tomorrow.”
His voice was steady, his words delivered almost coldly, and her anger flared, as it seemed to so often of late.
“And does our happiness mean nothing to you? Would you not fight society’s expectations for a chance at happiness? You fought the men who attacked me, and they were far more dangerous than a room full of society gossips!”
“My Lady, it was you who successfully fought those men – I failed to arrive in time to do so, only managing to strike one blow! I hardly think that lacking performance is a thing to compare to anything.”
She stared at him, aghast – he believed that he had done nothing of merit? Was he mad? If he had not arrived in time, the men would have succeeded in abducting her, yet he appeared to be serious.
“You… you cannot mean that. I do not care what society thinks, nor do I think that you or your family are in any way to blame for what happened to me. I care for you, and I had come to believe that you cared for me.”
He looked away from her again, and she saw him swallow, his jaw tight. He spoke without looking back.
“Whether we care for each other is not relevant. Your safety, and your reputation are. And right now, you are risking that reputation. Please leave.”
Tears threatened, and Primrose found herself almost unable to breathe. Could he truly mean what he said? She had thought him a better man than that, a stronger man. Perhaps she had been wrong. Whether she was wrong or not, if he intended never to touch her again, then she wanted one last kiss, one moment to remember. She pushed away from the door, crossing the tiny cabin in two steps, and reached for him.
Before he had time to react, she cupped his face in her hands, and kissed him. It was a kiss which contained every ounce of the passion she felt for him, and still, it was not enough. He remained stiff in her grasp, his lips closed to her.
With a cry of despair, she spun away from him and, without a further word, let herself out of the room, and returned to her own cabin.
Sleep was a very long time coming, and her pillow was soaked with tears before it did.
<<<
Portsmouth Harbour was fascinating, but Primrose felt so utterly miserable that she barely drew anything as the ship came in to the dock.
Sera looked at her oddly, but said nothing. Soon, their trunks had been unloaded, and the two carriages which Mr Manning had sent to Portsmouth in expectation of their arrival were weighed down with all of their possessions. Mary and Garrett travelled in the second carriage, with most of the luggage, and the precious large canvases inside with them, and Sera, Raphael, Gabriel, and Primrose travelled in the first carriage.
After a short stop for Raphael to speak with the Portmaster and the Customs men, they were on their way, with the intent of reaching a quality Coaching Inn by late afternoon, as the first stop on their way back to London. Primrose watched the streets of Portsmouth go by, and then the countryside, determined not to look at the man who sat stiffly beside her on the luxurious seat of the carriage. She was acutely aware of him, of his familiar scent, and of the warmth of him, so very close. But there was nothing she could do.
The memory of his rejection of her, the previous night, left her embarrassed and ashamed. Now, he no doubt thought her a wanton. No wonder he did not want her. The journey dragged on interminably, and she endured, all the way wishing that she had never gone to his cabin at all.
<<<
Gabriel had spent the night hating himself. In doing his best not to hurt her, to protect her from now on, he had hurt her deeply. Staying immobile as she kissed him had been harder than anything else that he had ever done – except perhaps facing her this morning.
Now, the afternoon stretched on, exhausting, even though all he was doing was sit in the carriage.
Beside her.
Surrounded by the scent of her.
Wishing that he was anywhere else.
After what seemed forever, they reached the town of Godalming, proceeding slowly up the High Street until they reached the King’s Arms Hotel. They turned in through the archway in the face of the building, entering a sizeable Inn yard with large stables at the rear. Ostlers came forward to deal with the horses, and a footman came rushing out to let down the steps and open the door for them.
Raphael remarked, as they stepped down, that the Inn had been there since at least 1639 – perhaps longer, and was a favourite of the nobility. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, the Innkeeper became most obsequious when informed that the new arrival was an Earl, and rooms were soon arranged – a suite with three bedrooms and a small private parlour, plus rooms for their servants. Never had Gabriel been so happy to get out of a carriage. Perhaps, after a bath, and a change of clothes, he would feel up to spending the evening in Lady Primrose’s company, without, every moment, wishing to pull her into his arms and kiss her. He went into the room he was shown to, and asked the footman to immediately arrange a bath.
“Certainly, my Lord.”
Gabriel gave a half laugh.
“No, I’m not a Lord. I am just Mr Morton, a merchant. It is my brother who was ennobled, not me.”
It was said without rancour, as simply an explanation he had given all too many times in the last two years, but the footman paused a moment, looking surprised, then nodded and left the room. After a short time, servants appeared, carrying a brass bathtub, and many buckets of heated water. Gabriel thanked them, and sank into the water gratefully once they had left the room.
<<<
“That well-turned-out young gent wot just came in, the one who called for a bath – turns out he’s not a Lord, even if ‘e looks like one. Says he’s a plain Mister, and a merchant to boot. Who’d a thought it? Not our usual class of customer, eh? Polite enough though, can’t fault ‘im there.”
The footman was speaking to two maids and another footman, as they waited near the bottom of the stairs, ready to assist the customers with whatever they needed. His voice was not overly loud, but it was still audible to anyone descending the stairs – and right at that moment, three young gentlemen were doing just that. They were dressed in the latest stare of fashion – rather overdone, as was often the wont of young men who thought more of themselves than was perhaps sensible.
As the footman’s words registered on them, their own conversation fell silent, and they looked at each other in some consternation, but did not speak, instead eagerly listening, in case the servants’ conversation revealed anything more of interest – which it did not, as the footman was called away.
The young gentlemen reached the bottom of the stairs, and found themselves a table in the parlour which was reserved for the highest class of guests, calling for drinks, and settling in to gossip – starting with what they had just overheard.
<<<
Primrose had seen her things placed in her bedroom, then found herself staring out of the window at the Inn yard below. The room, although of a good size, still made her feel trapped, cramped, after the long day in the carriage. She considered going out into their private parlour, but it was also small, and, what was worse, if she went to sit in there, it was highly likely that she would find herself sitting close to Gabriel.
Which, after the day in the carriage, with him right beside her, and yet so utterly far away, would be just too painful to contemplate. Mary tapped on the door, and came in, distracting her from watching the goings on down in the yard.
“I’ll just unpack the few things you’ll need for tonight and tomorrow, my Lady – I’ve already done that for Lady Porthaven.”
Primrose smiled, and shook her head, an idea coming to her.
“Don’t worry about that for now, Mary. I feel the need to move about, and to see something other than the inside of a small room, or a carriage. Please accompany me, for
propriety’s sake, down to the parlour, so that I can take tea there, and see what sort of other people are staying here.”
Mary regarded her solemnly, and Primrose knew that she was considering whether she should do as asked, whether it would be safe, and suitable. Apparently, she concluded that it would.
“Of course, my Lady. Let me just re-pin your hair for you first.”
Primrose obediently sat on the stool in front of the small mirror, and allowed Mary to repress her hair. Once the errant coils of soft gold had been tidied, she rose, and smoothed her skirts.
“Come along then, Mary.”
The maid bobbed a curtsey, and followed her from the room. Primrose was glad that, as she passed through their private parlour, there was no sign of Gabriel.
The passageway outside the rooms was empty, and quiet as she walked to the stairs, and started down. After the weeks at sea, she still felt a little unsteady on her feet, and that quiet was odd, after the perpetual sound of the waves and the activities of the ship. She found herself listening intently, seeking sounds in the silence.
It was not until they reached the bottom of the stairs that anything came to her – and then, it was the sound of conversation, emanating from the parlour which was her destination. Male voices, with the affected manner of so many of the younger members of the ton. She sighed – even that sort of company would be tolerable for a short while, just to allow her to escape the discomfort of Gabriel’s rejection.
As she got closer, what they were saying began to become clear.
She stopped, causing Mary to nearly collide with her, and listened to the conversation, unashamedly eavesdropping.
They were discussing other guests, and in a remarkably disparaging manner. No, not just other guests in general, but Gabriel in particular. Anger filled her, growing as she listened.
“You heard what that footman said – we are sharing a roof with a lowly merchant. Quite disgusting – I thought that this place was only for the quality, not for riff-raff from the commercial classes. Such men shouldn’t be staying here, getting above themselves, thinking they’re as good as the likes of us! The impudence of him!”
A Minx for a Merchant : Book 5: Primrose: Clean Regency Romance (A Duke's Daughters - The Elbury Bouquet) Page 15