Harlequin Historical July 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Madeline Martin

  He held himself perfectly still. Well, that was the way of things. Rachael was her own person. If she did not want his interference, so be it.

  He gave the tiniest nod of acknowledgement to his mother’s words. But inside, he felt as if she’d been a sweetheart and he’d been at the event, and she’d chosen to stay home rather than to see him.

  ‘Mrs Albright confided that she suspected the dissolution of her daughter’s acquaintance with Mr Tenney had put her out of sorts for dancing.’

  ‘Should have made her want to dance.’

  ‘I suppose.’ His mother turned, staring at him from over her spectacles. She took another sip of her tea. ‘Just don’t cause more grief for her.’

  Grief? The only one he would like to cause problems for was the man she’d fancied.

  She rested her cup in its saucer, a light whisper of china against china sounding in the silent room. ‘It’s not that I dislike her or would be upset if you were to court her. I just don’t see you pursuing such a gentle sort. She’s not used to the world around us. And people can be cruel. You can only promote someone so much and then it is up to them. Besides, you should know... I’ve heard rumours that the businesses owned by her father are not—are looking a little drab.’

  ‘She needs this.’

  ‘If she doesn’t want to flounce about in society, you should accept that. Not everyone is happy spending an hour dressing, an hour getting her hair fixed, a carriage ride when trussed so tightly you can’t breathe, then dancing with men you can hardly tolerate when they’re sober, much less when wobbly from a strong punch. Punch, the drink. Not the action.’ She made a fist with the pencil enclosed in it and jabbed the air.

  ‘You make it sound like an ordeal to be in society.’

  ‘No.’ She rotated to write another word on her list. ‘I enjoy it, but not everyone does. And I don’t know that she would. Don’t try to make her into a female version of yourself. We all return to our true characters.’

  ‘She must become more visible.’

  She didn’t raise her head from her writing. ‘If she embarrasses herself, it won’t further her. And the poor girl doesn’t seem to have a knack for being at ease.’

  ‘She can learn.’

  ‘Yes.’ His mother let out a sigh. ‘And I can learn to cook. Don’t hold your breath. You’d be much better off eating one of my stunning flower arrangements than any macarons I might make.’

  ‘Your florals do look good enough to eat,’ he said, his mind still on Rachael as he bent to kiss his mother’s cheek.

  ‘I agree.’ She gave his shoulder an absent-minded pat, her attention returning to the paper. ‘I’ll manage it so that she gets a few more invitations, but she’s going to have to put her heart into it and her mother will have to respond with at least a few invites to tea soon, or it’s all going to be a waste of time.’

  He stepped to the door.

  ‘I expected you to be gone today,’ she said. ‘How did your trip with your father and his brother go?’

  ‘Uncle Ted’s in better health. He sends his love. Or at least half of it. He said he doesn’t want to steal you from Father.’

  ‘Did he say that in front of your father?’

  ‘Of course. Father didn’t think it clever.’

  ‘You’re more like Ted than your father. You favour the Earl in appearance, but you inherited a brain from somewhere and I can’t think it was from your father. It had to be his brother.’

  ‘Could it have been from you?’ He stopped at the threshold. ‘You told me that the Hinshaw estates were for sale for a pittance because the Duke needed funds to invest in his shipyard immediately.’

  She returned to her list, lifted her cup again and pushed her glasses higher on her nose. ‘Had to wait a while to sell it, but we made a tidy profit, didn’t we? Ruffled your father’s feathers.’ Her chuckle was low. ‘Loved it.’

  Devlin remembered those days. He was surprised he’d not walked around with his hair standing straight out in fear. He’d taken a risk by using the strength of his future inheritance to secure the loan.

  It had been frightening to invest everything his mother truly had that was her own, but she’d insisted, and then he’d had to locate the rest of the purchase price.

  ‘Until then, your father deemed you a youth and couldn’t get past those days when he was never questioned, just followed.’ She flicked a fingernail over the paper. ‘By both of us.’

  His father had been angry and hadn’t recovered quickly. Yet as he got over the irritation, he’d treated them both more respectfully. Devlin’s parents’ relationship even improved.

  ‘We made a considerable profit.’ He’d not cared particularly about the profit, but just that he’d not indebted himself for the future.

  Movement in the room ceased except for his mother’s face. ‘It was a strike for independence, not just for yours, but for mine as well. Your father took it better than I judged he would.’

  ‘We didn’t make anything on the next one.’

  ‘We broke even. A good learning experience for us. So, it was a success. And now your father trusts you and you’ve worked tremendously in that devil-may-care I’m-just-enjoying-myself-and-what-property-are-you-hoping-to-sell? way you have about you.’ She focused her attention on her list again and mumbled, ‘I created a monster.’

  Devlin’s stare jerked to her.

  ‘Not you, my son. Myself.’ Her eyes sparkled in laughter and she waved him out of the room.

  Striding into the hallway, he accepted that his father had needed him, although none of them had seen it at the time. His father had trusted people too easily. His mother didn’t.

  Rachael’s family business could increase. She’d have to take risks, but it was a bigger danger never to take them. He didn’t want her to have to depend on a marriage to increase her status. He’d seen the pride in his mother’s face when they’d sold the Hinshaw estates and made a profit and he’d had to talk her out of some of the bigger gambles she’d planned afterwards. She’d heeded each word he’d said and addressed them as if they’d been generated from her own perceptions.

  His mother and father made a formidable pair.

  Leaving the room, he pushed the images of a joined family aside, planning to find some friends with nothing more important than to plan a card game or have a spot of revelry.

  He went outside and moved quickly to get beneath the canopied trees, his energy increased by the cooler day. At the nearby mews, he greeted the stable master, took the saddle before the man could reach it and saddled his horse, then he led it by the ribbons into the street and jumped astride.

  In moments, he was riding along the street, which emitted a peaceful family presence. Houses surrounded him on both sides, silent reminders of caring groups. He could imagine a loving family behind each door. His imagination dismissed the possibility that unhappiness resided in any home. For the day, he was surrounded by caring families secure in their world.

  He’d hated to be in his house when he was a child and both parents were in residence and were arguing. He loved them both apart, but couldn’t stand either of them when they were together and were picking at each other.

  He wondered if that was how he’d learned his ease around people, by trying to cajole his parents’ anger or hurt into contentment. Or from watching his mother switch from being furious at his father to welcoming her guests with everything swept from view as if she’d had the most glorious day ever.

  That was how he’d always presumed marriages to be. Two people joined together who could put on a happy face when they were around others, but who jousted for control in private.

  Some of the fury he’d dissipated over the years must have hidden inside him. Now he felt a slow simmer of irritation at Rachael which surprised him. He was never angry. He didn’t like anything which took from his joie de vivre. He didn
’t have a right to be upset with her. True, he’d offered advice and arranged to get her an invite, and she’d not attended.

  A favour had been ignored. That was reason for irritation, he supposed.

  The clubs would be a much better way to spend the remainder of the day than thinking about Rachael’s future and the way she’d just tossed his advice to the wind. But his horse didn’t want to go to the clubs.

  It kept turning in the direction of Rachael’s house.

  And who was he to argue with a beast?

  * * *

  Three taps. Pause. Four taps. Pause. Then five taps.

  Finally, a butler answered the door.

  ‘Tell Miss Albright the Viscount is here for her.’

  The man hesitated and Devlin stepped inside. ‘Now, please.’ Devlin ended the request with a small bow that took the butler by surprise. ‘Thank you,’ Devlin added, as if Rachael were already on her way.

  ‘Of course,’ the servant answered and left to do as Devlin asked.

  He’d just entered a man’s house and convinced a servant to do his bidding, and he wasn’t certain the butler even questioned it after the first momentary falter of surprise. A butler was trained to do as requested. A viscount was trained to request.

  In a few minutes, the man returned, and led Devlin to a sitting room.

  Rachael stood behind the sofa, waiting, almost mouse-like, as if she might skitter to some dark place of solitude. She watched her hand trace the pattern on the upholstery. Except for the intense scrutiny she gave to a fabric she must have seen thousands of times, he would have assumed by her expression that she didn’t know he was in the room.

  Relief overtook him, but his annoyance didn’t evaporate. It seemed almost fuelled by the sight of her and the unfamiliar irritation warred with the relaxed poise imbedded in him. He felt jostled by his own body.

  He absorbed the pale blue of her dress, the tousled hair piled on her head, the slender arm outstretched, and another, stronger surge of exasperation flooded into him. How could that daft Tenney not note how far above him she was and not get down on his knees and beg her to forgive him for even thinking himself worthy of her.

  ‘How did you like the soirée?’ he asked, his voice sounding like someone else’s. Someone he didn’t recognise. Or, perhaps he did. His father.

  ‘You know well that I didn’t go.’

  ‘Yes.’ He stepped to the front of the sofa, at war with himself over the need to be closer to her and yet keep a barrier between them.

  ‘My mother once hired a companion for herself and part of the woman’s job was to teach Father proper speech. I kept remembering it and fearing I’d say the words as he sometimes does.’

  ‘To every newly born babe the world is a trial. Not every new adventure is easy.’

  ‘It’s easier for you. For them.’ Her perfect chin jutted and her eyes sparked anger, and he absorbed it like a plant moving to the sunshine.

  ‘For the others at the dance it is something they have been a part of since they were children.’ The ire in her face softened and her words matched. ‘They know each other and they visit with friends there. I am a newcomer to that part of society.’

  Instantly, her softness pulled him closer and he couldn’t keep the sofa between them, but walked around. She reached out for him, clasping his hand.

  His mind crashed in all different directions at once, remembering how he’d rushed to save her, unaware of his steps or his life or surroundings, only moving for her safety. He’d had no choice to make, or even a decision. It had just happened.

  And now she held him immobile and nowhere else would he have wanted to be.

  ‘Society fits me like a well-made glove,’ he said. ‘But there is no secret handshake. No hidden password to get you into that world. You have to get there on your wits. You fight with a smile, an open heart and a strong backbone. You’re not doing this for today. You’re doing it for ten years from now.’

  ‘It’s much harder for me.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. Every time you take a first step there is always someone who it was easier for. Someone it was harder for. Always.’ Then he lowered his voice. ‘Do you want to marry someone like Tenney? Or do you want to regard him with pride years from now and say to him without even speaking when you pass by him, I could have been yours, then give a little twist and walk on?’

  Again, she calculated his expression. ‘I didn’t think you so vindictive.’ Her hand slipped from his. She grasped his arm, lowered her voice and shifted so close he could scent vanilla surrounding her.

  He’d not expected a wholesome fragrance to affect him so.

  ‘I was too scared. I could not do it. I was shaking. I could not stop trembling. I could not force myself.’

  ‘Tell yourself, starting now, that it is nothing but a little group of strangers who do not eat babies for breakfast. They are people. Like yourself. Humans. Humans you aren’t at war with. The snipers only have words and they can be dulled with time and effort.’

  ‘I cannot do it.’

  ‘If you say that, then it’s true.’ He secured her shoulders, but in reality, she held him captive.

  ‘Think of it, Rachael. Women marry. They give birth. All more risk than a simple dance.’

  She turned her head. ‘That doesn’t make it less real. I don’t know why I was so scared. It makes little sense. But I was. Real fear. After my parents left the house, I started shivering.’

  ‘Then we will fight through it. The events aren’t frightening. In fact, they get boring as the night lingers.’

  She touched his arm. ‘If I try again, will you be there with me?’

  It was as if she imbued him with power, just from the light pressure on his sleeve.

  ‘Of course.’ He could have battled armoured dragons on the strength she gave him.

  She melted into his arms and he couldn’t risk hurting her, either by retreating or by pursuing. He brushed a hand up her back, feeling the layers of clothing and slight ridges of her backbone making a trail for him to trace. She was so frail compared to him. No wonder she’d been concerned. Softer than velvet, more lush than any green forest.

  Immediately his mind travelled to a mossy bank and her lying beside him, observing the heavens, alone in the world of nature, primitive and free.

  He shook the images clear. He couldn’t let his imagination go there. All the purity of their encounter faded, replaced by his body’s burning need. He stepped aside.

  Confusion fluttered across her face, but he immediately erased it by taking a wisp of her hair between two fingers and tucking it behind her ear. But he couldn’t free himself of the image of the two of them lying beside each other.

  ‘I don’t fit there,’ she said, the pain in her voice corralling his thoughts. ‘I know it. They know it. I’m an outsider.’

  ‘Yes. You are.’ But she wasn’t to him. When he’d first taken her in his arms and carried her to the sofa, he’d somehow become her defender. A man who’d let himself be slain rather than let her be hurt.

  ‘It will likely take years for you to become entrenched,’ he added, forcing his mind to consider the facts in front of him. ‘Years. But you still can wear those jewels and show everyone the wares your father sells. It doesn’t matter if you aren’t acknowledged at first. You’ll be accepted in time.’

  He spoke the truth because he intended to become her shield against the world. He just couldn’t become more involved in her life. He couldn’t let the weakness she inspired in him rule him. He couldn’t remember the softness of her skin or the fragile woman who needed him. Or be aware that her life would change for ever and the fear inside him that if he wasn’t in her life, she would face the world alone.

  He paused.

  The women in his past, none had needed him.

  Perhaps they’d needed a dance partner, or someone
to ease their loneliness or someone who’d merely listen to their heartbreak.

  But none had needed him.

  He didn’t want to ruin something dear.

  He’d heard men who’d been foxed tell the stories of the one true love of their lives and how they’d spoiled everything by treating her like every other woman they’d ever met.

  He wanted Rachael to be the love of his life.

  The one whose name remained just under the surface while he jested and made light of the world. The reason he was born.

  ‘I want us to be friends,’ he said, hoping he could live up to the word. Hoping he could find it within himself not to mar her trust in him, not to destroy the innocent faith in her eyes. ‘For a long time.’

  ‘We are,’ she said. ‘Friends.’

  He wondered if the path to his own ache had already begun and he glimpsed into the wide eyes and knew that it had, and he didn’t care.

  He would suffer later, in the long hours of the night when he couldn’t chase her from his memory. He would yearn for her and he would only have her in his dreams, and he would dread sleeping because when he awoke, he would know they were friends. And one put friends first.

  ‘I’ll be there for you,’ he added, giving her a carefree smile. ‘My mother will be having an event to welcome a few of her friends returning to London. You will be assured of an invitation, and, alas...’ he gave her a rakish wink ‘...I am a dutiful son who must attend his mother’s most important events.’

  With that, he allowed himself the softest kiss, suitable for a sleeping babe, and slipped out of the door.

  Standing against the wood he’d just pulled closed behind him, he gathered his resources, yet he lingered, reluctant to put more distance between them.

  He must never touch her again.

  It stirred memories of his past innocence. Something he’d left behind after he’d met a woman who said she loved him beyond all else. A woman he still spoke with on friendly terms, but one who meant absolutely nothing to him.

  Rachael. He breathed the sound of her name.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN