‘You must have been a terrible student to your tutors.’
‘No. They loved me. I wanted to do well so I asked questions and left the studies alone. I told them I might need their knowledge in my estate management some day and they tried to make the way easier for me.’
‘Why not both the books and the tutors?’
‘Would you say to a songbird perhaps don’t spend so much time making the world happier with your music, But endeavour to wake up people in the morning like the cockerel does? And then would you ask the cockerel to sing for us so that he may be a better chicken?’
‘You are adept at speaking nonsense.’ Her upper lip tightened.
‘You must control yourself, Rachael, and not try to be so obviously sensible. Life does not always make sense to the kind-hearted. In fact, the opposite may be true.’
She looked at the ceiling and then at him. ‘I will try to be more nonsensical around you.’
‘Yes. If you must think, please do so early in the day. Get it over with quickly so you can enjoy the remaining hours better. The people at the dances don’t want you to show them how intelligent you are, they want you to listen to them. That is the secret. Ask them the questions to get the answers they want to share.’
Without his awareness, they had moved closer and closer, and now they were inches apart, connected and separated by the tensions that smouldered within.
He’d never stood so close to a woman and felt so much without them touching.
For the second time in an hour, he lost his ability to speak.
‘I’m not good at deception,’ she said.
His mindfulness returned. The distance between them increased. ‘It’s not deception. It’s survival.’
She didn’t respond, standing as firm as a statue and eyes as unfeeling.
He wanted to change the statue. To soften it. To bring it to life in a way it had never been before.
But it was not his role to take.
‘You must be among the people who will be helpful and you must persuade them you’re worthy,’ he said. ‘Life is like mirrors reflecting our outsides, not holding our insides up for everyone else to witness. People envision us through their own eyes and hardships.’
With a flutter of her lashes, she batted his statement from her. ‘Words from someone at the top of the heap.’
‘But it’s a heap. And it can be climbed. Surely you have a drop of adventurous spirit inside you. You’d better if you’re devising a plan of taking on a business endeavour.’
‘You’re proposing more than a drop.’
‘You must don your armour. Your livelihood might depend on it. And your parents need you to be strong.’
‘I don’t have the funds to compete with earls’ and bankers’ families. To appear at the gatherings over and over and mingle with them. And I am strong.’ Her voice faltered.
‘Strong enough to help your parents?’
She flinched.
He couldn’t summon a smile. It was as if he watched two people he did not know.
‘I don’t want to dance the night away,’ she said. ‘I want to be serious. To be myself. I want to learn from Mr Grimsley. Besides, I can’t receive the invitations to go among society’s notables.’
‘You should trust me on this. I can help with the invites.’
‘Perhaps.’ One clipped word with not quite two syllables.
With the frost lingering in the air, he bowed and took his leave.
But he left a part of himself behind in the room with Rachael. It was a part that he could not see, or feel, but he knew something was missing inside him that hadn’t been missing when he arrived.
They would likely never see each other again, except from a distance.
CHAPTER TEN
‘Your mother told me Montfort is here.’ Her father hurried into the room. He examined the space and discovered she was alone. He checked again, making sure he’d not missed seeing Devlin hiding behind a curtain or in a corner.
‘Yes. He just left.’ She picked up the newspaper, noticing the stiff creases. The places Devlin’s hand had smeared the un-ironed ink. No matter, it would make excellent fodder for the fire.
‘What’s that?’ her father asked, diverted.
‘The Viscount wanted me to read the society pages,’ she said.
‘I heard.’ His chest puffed. ‘What did he think of it? Of the broken betrothal? The rumours?’
‘He was dismayed.’
‘Oh.’ Her father’s lips moved again, but no sound emerged.
‘Dismayed,’ he finally repeated. ‘Well, your happiness is more important than anything else.’ He moved into the hallway, shoulders slumped, seeming to forget they were having a conversation.
His footsteps plodded in the hallway. Rushed whispers. Her mother’s voice. Consoling her father.
She opened the paper again and the words hadn’t changed.
Yes, she had financial needs to keep her mind from this. For today.
She gathered her skirts in her hand and hurried out of the room and down the stairs.
Outside, she rushed to the street and saw the carriage, already trundling away.
She waved the paper wide and then flung it towards the carriage, scattering the pages into the air.
The wheels slowed.
She stood alone, watching each revolution as the cab springs squeaked while the driver slowed, then navigated a sharp turn.
Papers were strewn around her feet. She scooped them up and held them, waiting for the vehicle to return.
* * *
Devlin jumped from the carriage. ‘Oh, did I forget that?’ He smiled. ‘I really was giving that rubbish to you.’
She scrunched it into a smaller wad. ‘I’m making no promises. But I’ll try. If you’ll help me.’ Wind blew a lock of hair across her face and she brushed it aside.
He was silent, but this time he knew it was because happiness was trying to flourish in his heart. The part of himself that he’d left behind had returned and filled him stronger than ever.
Rachael needed him and that made him whole.
‘The Countess will produce invitations for you,’ he said.
‘That would be kind.’
He took the crumpled mess from her hands. ‘You’ve got a smudge of ink. By your ear.’
‘I almost always get newsprint on my face. It’s a skill I have.’ She brushed it, missing.
He nodded to the vehicle. ‘Let me put this aside and we’ll talk about the skills you’ll need to navigate the finest ducal ball.’
He tossed the print into the interior of the vehicle and closed the door. They stood, the body of the carriage shielding them from most eyes.
‘The smudge is still there.’ He questioned with his brows, she nodded and remained immobile, while he brushed the speck at her ear. Bolts of warmth caused her to feel like a different person.
He stilled. ‘You’re perfect now.’
‘I don’t have a lot of gowns to wear for gatherings and festivities among exalted peers. You have to spend a great sum on many dresses. Mrs Grimsley’s daughter makes all my clothing, except for the clothing for balls. I don’t know if she is skilled enough for them.’
‘You must not concentrate on what you can’t do at an event, or in life, because the world is full of those things. You must ponder on what you can do. You must work on the bridge to build that will get you in the direction you want to go. The shortest path and the easiest path are already overfilled by others.’
She put a hand at her throat. ‘That’s what you say to help me? Encouraging me?’
He nodded. ‘You will do what feels impossible to you. Humans do the near unobtainable all the time. Every single day someone is out there making strides. Someone who ignores the struggle and focuses on the goal, who is willing to play the game w
ith what he has and not what everyone else has.’
‘I’m not skilled at the easy conversations people have in gatherings.’
‘Again, you’re looking for excuses. You don’t need to walk into the room once and have everyone amazed that such a wondrous person has deemed to attend their night. At a soirée, you would merely have to convince them of your honesty, your integrity and let them admire the jewellery.’
He tapped her wrist. ‘If you’ve a bracelet that goes with the dress, you must wear it and be seen. You are not to be just a shopkeeper’s daughter. You bring every bit of your genuineness into the room when you walk in. And you are to make everyone envious of the woman who can drape herself in jewels and have no unease about the cost. They won’t notice the dress. They’ll only notice the loveliness. Are you aware of the expense of jewels?’
‘Yes, but I can wear a new bauble once and it goes back to Grimsley the next day. To me, even the most expensive ones wear just the same as the glass ones.’
She held up her empty wrist. ‘Once I took a bracelet covered in sapphires from Father’s cases and it was too big for me, but I wore it around the house for the day until he saw it. I feared he would collapse. He said I had more on my wrist than the roof over our heads.’
‘I like your wrist without adornment, but this is not about you. It’s business. You can transform yourself with the gentle artillery, the battle plan and reinforcements if needed.’
‘You make it sound like a war.’
‘That’s marriage. This is tactics.’
‘Marriage shouldn’t be a war. I didn’t expect mine to Mr Tenney to be such a thing.’ Sadness choked her words.
‘I assure you, only your gracious spirit could have made it a happy home. He would have been the ruler and expected you to stay safely under his thumb.’
‘I wouldn’t have believed you a fortnight ago. But I most likely would have done as he wished and never noticed it. I wanted to be a good wife. I wanted a happy household. I wanted...a marriage like my mother and father have.’
She wanted a marriage like her parents’? He suspected it was the same as hoping for the lightning strike the coachmen had mentioned.
Yet, he didn’t have the temperament to tell her that. Nor did he wish to tell her that he’d almost stepped into a marriage similar to what she would have had with Tenney. He supposed that was why it had been so important to help her. Why it was still so vital to him to assist her.
He resumed his natural persuasiveness. ‘It is a competitive field on the marriage mart. You must be careful not to make enemies there. A jealous woman will not buy your jewellery.’
‘I shall be careful,’ she said. ‘I will not dance with any males I believe are searching for a wife. Only the older and happily married would I accept and rarely those. I will have a sprained foot, a broken slipper.’ She paused. ‘Or a pained knee.’ She touched over her behind and patted the air. ‘This part of my knee still pains me, but I can sit now.’
‘I’m sorry I did not get there sooner.’
‘You saved my life. Don’t apologise.’
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. ‘The marriage would have been called off anyway, even if Tenney had not been so malevolent. I would never have been able to disrobe in front of him.’
‘A man worth his salt wouldn’t care about the marks.’
He didn’t care if the scars were hideous except for the part of them that hurt her. ‘Personally, I have never concerned myself about whether a woman might have a blemish on her...derrière. I don’t know of a man who has.’
In fact, a man might enjoy spending a night caressing it when it healed. Might think it a treasured part of a woman he cared about.
‘Well, my leg is raw as well. Mother says it will heal further, but it is difficult to believe.’
He held up his bent little finger. ‘How much do you care about this?’
‘Not at all. I’m sorry you were hurt, but it is nothing.’
‘That is the same way I feel about your...wound.’
‘Thank you for your kind words.’
‘Honest ones.’
‘Delivered with kindness.’
She reached to the lapel of his coat. ‘I must thank you. You are a rake on the outside, but a knight on the inside.’
‘I would say there is a lot of night, but not the kind you are thinking of. Do not place too much store in me. If Tenney loved you, he’d just be thankful you are alive.’
He was.
The knowledge lodged in him with such strength his breath caught.
This would not do. She was not a woman for a rake and he had learned his lesson.
He knew he could make his friends notice her, but he didn’t want them to. She deserved a happier home than his acquaintances could provide for her. They weren’t worthy of this gem.
But he hated her placing her future at the whims of people selecting wares for their home.
‘Hunting one husband might be easier than roping in many of them and their wives to buy trinkets for their houses,’ he said.
She shook her head. ‘No. I deluded myself with a betrothal. Thinking back, I didn’t like the feeling anyway. The weakness of my mind that came from being around that person. I don’t want to feel like that ever again.’ She frowned. ‘But I rather like living well. I know the love of money is an evil thing and I don’t wish for a romance with it, but it will keep me comfortable.’
He put his hand over hers and held it close to his heart. He liked having her near, it reassured him she was safe, secure. ‘A romance is not always a bad thing, should it not go too far,’ he said.
With that, he took her head in his hand as their foreheads touched. Their breaths mingled, lighting a belief in him that love wasn’t only possible, it was inevitable.
Her lips parted and she said the only thing that could have dampened his ardour.
‘Have you been in love?’
‘Yes. It didn’t last.’ Words short. Clipped.
He gave her the barest wink and the softest smile. ‘I will see that you have invites soon. And tomorrow, I will get my friends to tell the truth of the disagreement between you and the mushroom.’ Then he escorted her to her house’s entrance and returned to his carriage, leaving.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The next morning, Rachael slipped out of the house with her maid who’d arranged for a hackney to take them to the newspaper office. Tenney had once told her how things could get accomplished. She’d disagreed with him at the time, but now she considered his solution.
Devlin was going to get his friends to help her spread the truth, but she’d lain awake long into the night thinking of how she could help herself.
Her mind had kept wandering to Devlin and how she’d felt, standing with him by the carriage. They’d been close in those moments. United. Then she’d asked about love and the fantasy of unity had evaporated, gone into the air as if it had never been.
* * *
Once at the building, Rachael went inside. ‘Could I speak to the person who wrote this particular article?’
The maid held out the paper.
An unshaven man walked to the servant, lids drooping over his reddened eyes, and a wearied set to his mouth. He coughed, studying the words. ‘I did. ’Cause I write every word in that paper. Even the ones I don’t like.’
‘It’s about my life,’ she said. She couldn’t see compassion behind those tired eyelids. ‘And it’s speculations. Untrue ones.’
He grabbed the paper, lids dropping further, taking his time while he read, then tossed the print aside when he finished. ‘Show me the proof that it’s lies. You can’t. I print observations and suggest they could be true, or not.’
‘If you could be so kind as to print an announcement that it has been a mutual decision, and Tenney and I have agreed to go our separate ways, I woul
d much appreciate it.’ She did her impression of a most prim and proper miss. The person she really was.
‘That does not sell papers. No one cares. Give me something that does sell papers. Even if I did print a piece written exactly as you wished, it’s not going to matter to anyone now. People like to read the worst whether they believe it or not. And, of course, they do.’
‘You would be doing the right thing.’
‘I don’t print prayer books.’
She had to keep her goal in mind.
‘It would mean so much to me.’ She motioned to the maid. The servant wedged herself around Rachael and held open a box so the man could see inside.
Guilt trickled into her, but she pushed it away. She wasn’t asking him to tell lies. But to be more honest.
‘If you would print something to ease this for me—and it truly was an error in print, a malicious tale—then I will send my maid by with this gift for the lady in your life. You win in two ways, by doing the right thing and having a trinket for your wife.’
She lowered her jaw. ‘Bread and butter tastes wonderful, but jewels last longer.’
Then she turned to leave.
Either it would work, or it wouldn’t, and no sense in belabouring it.
‘Don’t be in such a hurry to leave,’ the man called, stopping her. ‘Sometimes I like doing the right thing. Let me have a peep at that charm again.’
She stopped. ‘When I read the new story.’
‘What story?’ He chewed his lip.
She fanned her face with her glove. ‘My scars concerned me. I didn’t know how bad they’d be. And I didn’t want to inflict them on Mr Tenney.’
‘Scars?’ His demeanour brightened. ‘Scars, on a lovely person such as yourself, might sell papers.’ He examined her, face pinched. ‘But ain’t nobody going to be convinced you’ve a blemish.’
‘My leg.’ She closed her eyes hard, then opened them, gathering strength. ‘I was burned. Everyone knows. And truly now, it would be no lie to say I never wanted Ambrose to observe the injury. At the time, it all happened so fast I didn’t think of it. But...’ she shook her head ‘...now that I do reflect—no.’
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