Harlequin Historical July 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Madeline Martin

  ‘Ah.’ He picked up his glass and took a sip, then gave her the smile that usually melted anger. ‘You are mature.’

  Instead of an answering lilt to her lips, she grumbled again.

  He studied her. Whatever had happened must have been devastating, or he would have been able to coax her into better humour.

  Or, she didn’t perceive him the same way others did.

  It became vital to soothe her.

  He would.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  She stood in the centre of the room, staring at nothing. ‘Four years. Four years.’ She shook her head. ‘And two years making sure beforehand. I should have questioned that if it took us that long, something was wrong.’ She pressed her fingers against her forehead.

  Devlin briefly touched her lowered arm. ‘What did he say to you, Rachael? Did the sap tell you he has another sweetheart?’

  ‘No. He said he still wishes for us to marry.’ Which she couldn’t fathom as he obviously found her reprehensible.

  ‘And just what about this has convinced you it is a bad idea?’

  Instantly, she felt soothed by his voice and his presence. ‘He said it in the vilest way possible. The most hideously vile way.’

  She turned to Devlin and he clasped her hand, the grip reassuring. She looked at their intertwined fingers and felt his strength. The letter she’d received didn’t seem so bad now. It was almost as if it were sent to another woman. Another Rachael, but she didn’t want to be that person.

  ‘In the first line he says he still plans to marry me, and in the last line as well. It is all the tender endearments in the middle that I have trouble with.’ The expression in his eyes made her able to continue.

  ‘What endearments?’

  She shook her head, thinking more objectively about the words. ‘Not ones I had heard before. How he finds me hideously awkward. How he detests my family.’ Her voice caught on the word family. He’d always said he liked her parents. ‘The shape of my nose.’ She put a shaking finger to the tip.

  ‘I find nothing wrong with it.’ Devlin’s eyes narrowed and he studied her face, turning to give it a better perusal.

  ‘He always said I had a beautiful profile and that was one of the first things he’d complimented me on. I do have a good nose,’ she said. ‘It’s my mother’s. Not my father’s.’

  Once, Tenney had spoken on and on about how fortunate she was to have a well-shaped nose and that he had hated his own. In fact, the words he’d used to describe himself when he spoke with her were the ones he’d written about her in the letter.

  ‘I have had no complaints on my appearance in the past and I feel confident my straightforward sister or my cousins, who were generous with their opinions when we were children, would have informed me if it is peculiar. My cousins commented on everything from how I said apostrophe to how I held my spoon.’

  He stepped closer. ‘It is not too big. Not too small. Just the right size for sniffing flowers.’

  ‘And then Mr Tenney went on to tell me detestable things about me, but then he was reassuring that he would marry me. He called me a not-endearing country miss and said he expected to get a tutor for me as the social graces I have are sadly non-existent.’

  ‘What did he say about your ears?’

  She gasped and covered her ears. ‘Nothing. What? Are you going to tell me they are longish, or wide even for a baby elephant?’

  He didn’t answer immediately and she lowered her hands and perched on the chair.

  Devlin shrugged. ‘They’re perfect ears. Perfect like your nose. He is obviously losing his senses. Or something.’

  ‘He always told me I had been fortunate concerning the size of my ears and nose.’

  ‘You are. And he is a perfect arse.’ Devlin loosened the buttons on his coat and sat on the matching chair. ‘Forgive my bad language and manners, Rachael. But I do believe you’ve been exposed to so much already and I hardly think you’ll lose sleep over mine on your behalf.’

  She shook her head, her knot of hair wobbling. ‘I have already started a letter breaking off the engagement, but I could not finish it... Well...six letters. Maybe seven.’ She frowned. ‘I cannot compose just the right words. And then I read his letter again, and I’m not confident he wrote it. The other ones he’s sent are all at home and my eyes blurred as I tried to remember exactly how he writes.’

  Devlin put his elbow on the arm of the chair. ‘A man should not treat his beloved so.’ He rested his chin in his hand. ‘Perhaps he wants you to call off the wedding.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘If you call the wedding off, he achieves the break without a care. If he calls it off, you are likely to be awarded some compensation if you want to seek it. Breach of promise. That sort of thing. Women can do that. Men are seen as cads who engaged a woman’s affections, affections that she could have given elsewhere. Men are seen as abusing a woman’s trust and hurting her chance for a future.’

  ‘I could never marry him if this is how he tries to achieve his goals.’ She held out a palm. ‘If that is what he wanted, he could have asked me. Nicely. In person preferably, but if not, by letter. I would have agreed and let the matter drop. I would think he would know me that well.’

  ‘He doesn’t have the spine.’

  She jerked her head his direction, surprised at the anger sizzling in her. She was almost more infuriated at Devlin than Tenney. She took Devlin’s comment as a criticism of her choice.

  She met his eyes and could tell he’d read her thoughts. But he didn’t flinch or soften his words. Instead he smiled, as if that would make everything better.

  ‘If he had said in the letter that he wished to discard you, would that not appear beyond the pale to a court should you decide to pursue it?’ Devlin asked. ‘They would empathise with a sniffling miss, with one lone tear running down her face, while her father reads the letter that destroyed his little innocent’s life.’

  ‘I could never...’ she said, then paused. ‘Unless it is because of the way he told me.’

  ‘He judged the letter the swiftest, surest, cleanest break. For himself.’

  ‘He is a barrister.’

  ‘Then by all means, you should respond in a manner he’s familiar with,’ Devlin said.

  ‘I want only to be honest.’

  He lowered his chin and blinked away her words. ‘Please write to him and tell him that you were at first astonished that he was feeling so low, but you understand that this is caused by the pressures he is under in order to provide a wonderful life for you and the children you hope to have. You anticipate the happy day when you’re married. Your love is as strong as ever—no—stronger now you’re aware of the worry seeping through in his words. A tutor is a grand idea and perhaps your family may stay with you after the marriage and take advantage of the tutor. Send him your love and tell him you have been knitting baby socks for the many little ones that will reside in the house you will share with him. You’re hoping to take in many stray cats and dogs also.’

  She tensed her neck. ‘I wouldn’t share a table with him. I wouldn’t share a cup of tea with him, or a few words.’ Rachael fidgeted. It just hurt too much to sit and when she rose, she waved him to remain seated.

  ‘You know that. I know that. But, please, don’t let him know that. You must play the cards you’ve been dealt and use them to your best advantage.’ His words calmed her.

  Devlin sprawled, staring at the ceiling overhead. ‘Just this once, put yourself first. Take the cards and put a few in your reticule if you must. You can return to maturity later. But how many chances do you have to gamble on a losing hand and emerge the victor?’

  ‘That is not the honest way to do things. One must be straightforward and sincere.’

  ‘I agree, mostly. And sometimes you have to push back because if you say yes nine times and the tenth you
say no, then you are seen as an unbearable ogre...because by the tenth time the spoiled, selfish person is convinced it is their right that you always say yes to them.’

  ‘I didn’t think he was like that. I wanted to spend my life with him.’

  ‘But you don’t want to spend your life with this as the most eventful memory. And one that leaves a bad taste in your mouth. You want to stand proud, stand tough and return it on a silver platter. You have no choice. Your memories of this must fade easily...and it may take longer than a physical scar to heal if you do not stand up for yourself. Graciously.’

  She lightly touched the area across her bottom. ‘Standing is about all I can do. It hurts. On the inside and out.’

  ‘Maturity. It’ll do that to you.’ He shook his shoulders. ‘Ghastly affliction.’

  ‘Have you managed to escape all the growing pains?’

  His eyes never left hers and his nod was slight. ‘Enough of them. Perhaps you were born old in the maturity of your decisions. But I was born old in the ability to deflect pain with meaningless diversions.’

  He wasn’t jesting.

  ‘Right now, I would trade you.’ She said the first words that entered her mind.

  ‘Never.’ His demeanour changed and his eyes levelled at her. ‘Maturity suits you well. You only need a splash of irresponsibility. Not the whole container.’

  After Tenney’s slashing letter, the sentiment of his compliment reached into the edges of her pain and washed it from her. She studied Devlin and he took in her perusal without a flinch.

  ‘Thank you.’ The words were spoken softly, but weren’t a platitude.

  The silence grew between them, but the distance melted. He was a true friend. And yet, he was different from others. He wouldn’t judge her harshly if she told him her truths because his own were much more jagged than hers.

  ‘There’s nothing I would like better to do than to flop down on a comfortable chair and cry my eyes out,’ Rachael whispered. ‘In truth, I have been jilted, though I am left to do the actual calling off of the betrothal.’

  Devlin rose to his feet. ‘Tenney’s a—You’ll be construed the fickle one.’

  She fought for control. ‘A jilt. Inconstant.’ Her throat throbbed. ‘I’ve never done anything bad in my life and now I’ll be speculated about.’

  He stepped closer, then held out his hand, waiting.

  She took a step, and then another, and his arms folded around her in a loose embrace, surrounding her with the scent of spice and life, and the warmth of compassion.

  She rested her cheek against the wool of his coat and the pain eased, and for a second none of it mattered. Not even Tenney’s treachery.

  ‘I feel guilty. For being in your arms.’

  ‘For being comforted?’ his voice said in her ear. ‘Nonsense. Utter rot. Total drivel for you to feel so. The man showed a false side of himself to you for six years. He should feel guilty, but I assure you he doesn’t.’

  ‘It’s a mistake. Someone copied his handwriting, or something like that.’ She breathed in the secure scent of Devlin.

  ‘Do you really believe it?’

  ‘I don’t believe he could actually write such a letter to me.’

  ‘You’re seeing him through your eyes. All people don’t react as you do.’ He brushed a hand across her back and it was as if he’d erased so much pain.

  ‘Someone else must have written the letter. The reason my mother planned her next event was to give us a chance to announce the date of our wedding.’ She reassured herself Tenney wouldn’t do such a thing, but now she didn’t care as much. ‘It’s a cruel jest. Caused by someone who envied him. He often said people were jealous creatures and didn’t want him to succeed.’

  His nose rested just above her ear. ‘Is that what you truly believe?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You’re too trusting.’

  ‘I prefer to give people... Not to assume the worst.’

  ‘Perhaps you should be judicious in that. I’m holding you. I’m comforting you. But in some corner of my mind, I’m hoping you and Tenney are finished.’

  ‘You’re only being nice.’

  ‘That’s how it starts. With kindness. Wasn’t Tenney compassionate to you? At least at first? Wasn’t he?’

  ‘Yes. I can’t believe he said all those things to me. Someone told him a lie about me, or someone else wrote the letter.’ Even as she spoke the words, she doubted them.

  ‘Was it his handwriting? Did it sound like him when he was upset with someone?’

  ‘Yes, but...’

  ‘He’s changed affections.’

  She raised a hand, steadying it on his chest. His arms fell to his sides. She took a careful step in reverse. ‘That was a cruel thing to say. And Mr Tenney is—was devoted to me.’

  ‘Of course. He still carries you deep within his heart. And he loves your nose.’

  That statement was delivered with such innocence and a smile. Fury filled her limbs and she instinctively balled her fists. ‘Devlin. You could use just a drop of my maturity.’

  All humour flew from his face and lines formed at his eyes. He studied her. ‘You’re taking me seriously.’

  ‘Is that not what I’m supposed to do?’ She puffed another breath through her nostrils.

  ‘Of course.’ Then he added, ‘Are you going to listen to me or to a man who tells you he doesn’t like your nose?’

  ‘Neither.’ She crossed her arms.

  He brushed the top of her shoulder. ‘Wise choice.’ Then he spoke, softening his words to decrease their impact. ‘I still believe it likely that he has changed affections.’

  ‘Are you judging him by your friends?’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘It doesn’t matter if I am, because I’m saying the truth. You really need to write him the letter telling him that your mother may reside with you after you’re married. Perhaps a few cousins as well,’ Devlin said. ‘Write to him as if nothing was wrong in his missive. That way you’re safe if he goes along smoothly. Or...’ he shrugged ‘...you can do as few do. Use your head to think. Definitely don’t set the wedding date. You do not want your reputation damaged. It’s important to you.’

  ‘This advice from a rake?’

  His brows furrowed. ‘You’d expect...what? Me to ask you to pray for him at Sunday services? No.’ He crossed an arm across his midsection, rested an elbow on it, and touched his knuckles to his chin. ‘I’d rather watch you take him out at the knees, observe him falling with his face in the mud and have you use his hinder parts to step on as a path to better things.’

  ‘I couldn’t.’ But if Devlin encouraged her, perhaps she could. It wasn’t the words he said, it was the way he put her feelings foremost in his discussion of her betrothal.

  He walked to her. ‘Is it because you are too good hearted, or is it because you don’t have the courage?’

  ‘I have the courage. I just know he could not do such a thing. On paper. He could not.’

  A door opened and closed in the distance. He looked towards the sound and lowered his voice.

  ‘Then give him the benefit of the doubt. Put that sapphire on your finger. Keep the contents of the letter quiet and give yourself some time to set the deck to your advantage. Everyone who knows you sees you as almost married and it can damage you to be seen as inconstant. There will be talk. You do not want to be hiding your head in shame or embarrassment. And you will have to be the one to call the wedding off eventually as he has no courage to do it. He is thinking of himself, which is no crime. You must think of yourself.’

  One thing she hated was deceit. Hated it. ‘I will not practise duplicity. I did nothing wrong.’

  ‘No harm in that. Sometimes.’

  The words hit her with a swifter jolt than the letter and his jaw hardened, but he didn’t beg her forgiveness.
/>   She anticipated an apology.

  But he said nothing. She couldn’t read anything in his face. Except perhaps pity, which incensed her. She firmed her lips and he reached for his glass and raised it to her, a silent challenge, but she wouldn’t answer. Not to defend Tenney or criticise him.

  Then, with a brief bow that somehow irked her more, he left the room.

  Emptiness washed over her and suddenly she was angrier at Devlin than anyone else. How dare he try to tell her why Tenney responded as he did. He didn’t even know him. She steadied herself by grasping the chair.

  Blast it. She wished he’d stayed. That upset her even more. She wanted to fight with him. Which just proved how much Tenney was suited for her. They’d never fought. Never, ever. Not once had they disagreed. Not a single time.

  She stood, winced, and bit the inside of her lip. They could all rot. Tenney and Devlin both.

  But then she considered that, after six years of her life with Tenney, she’d never experienced the loneliness she felt when Devlin left the room.

  She must be mistaken. She’d got her sentiments with Tenney confused and her weary brain had made her think she missed Devlin.

  She touched her forehead. Why did it hurt as much when Devlin spoke harshly to her than when Tenney’s words had tried to destroy her on paper?

  Suddenly, she remembered Tenney telling her once that he would never be touched in a breach of promise action and she’d not really paid attention.

  Now she wondered if Devlin had grasped what was going on much better than she did. She wanted to dart after him and ask him to explain, but she feared he already had. And, if she followed him, she would end up in his arms.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘How is your burn?’ her mother asked, after entering Rachael’s room.

  Rachael leaned against the wall, holding the letter from Mr Tenney in her hand. She turned the paper so that the writing wasn’t visible.

  ‘It’s much better.’

  ‘Well enough to manage the carriage?’ she asked.