‘Lessons?’
‘I never really did as a child. Except the ones in sewing and music and dancing. Now I’m having the ones about numbers and sums. Mr Grimsley arranged for his wife and her brother to help me and I am trying to learn as quickly as possible. There is more to business than I ever imagined.’
He stilled, nodding, and she sensed respect, and maybe admiration, in his gaze.
Someone else might not understand how much the Grimsleys did for her family. She imagined Mr Grimsley being let go. Mrs Grimsley without a home.
If word got out that she’d been with Devlin...
She could almost hear one of the women saying that she wished she’d caught on fire instead of Rachael, followed by giggles.
With imagined laughter ringing in her ears, Rachael ignored the wadded stocking in the bottom of her slipper and tried to act as if she’d merely requested a carriage. ‘I must go.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Devlin sat in the vehicle. Rachael perched alert, unsure if she could touch him without making the situation worse.
He took her hand and she relaxed inside, awash in the closeness.
‘You’re too far away,’ he said.
Something tugged at her heart. She put her other hand over the top of his, switching, so she could lean into his arm on the seat.
True, she’d needed his support, but she didn’t want to lose their friendship. To become a part of him so much that he couldn’t even see her.
Always she would remain the woman he’d rescued. The woman he’d saved again and then again.
She was so aware of the man beside her. Aware of the way he made her heart warm and her body burn and melt with desire. He’d changed her and touched her in a way no one ever had.
‘You saved me from the fire and have encouraged me to navigate in society,’ she said. ‘I’m grateful. But my gratitude, and your undertaking to assist me, created a friendship between us and maybe we’re mistaking it for something more.’
Yes, she would always be the woman he’d trained to handle conversation. Perhaps he felt connected—even without realising it, because he’d saved her life and tasked himself with making her comfortable in society.
The carriage wheels lurched after hitting a rut, a movement echoing the feelings tumbling along inside her.
She put her hand over his knuckles, amazed at the raw strength she felt contained in him. ‘Our moments together meant everything to me. Something I’ll always cherish. You’ll always be in my memory, but I don’t think you or I could be happy rushing into something,’ she said.
Her blood thundered in her ears and emphasised the quiet walls of the carriage, and she shifted from being with him to being alone.
Her hand still rested on his knuckles, but now she could feel distance seeping between them.
Rachael heard a whispered curse. A masculine chuckle followed. ‘I’ve said that before.’ He turned his face to the world outside the window.
She’d said the words, yet they’d made her feel rejected and a little broken. And alone.
She couldn’t speak for the emotions inside her that she couldn’t understand.
The coach rolled closer to her house and he didn’t alert the driver to stop until they’d passed it and turned the corner.
He was perfection, lifting her from the carriage as if he’d spent a lifetime training for the moment. Perhaps he had.
Then he rushed her home through the darkness, his touch never leaving her as he held the small of her back.
Outside the door, he stood in the shadows, brushing a kiss over her cheek, asking her if she was well.
She nodded, though she felt it a lie.
‘What will you be doing later?’ he asked. ‘After the lessons. When you have time to yourself?’
She grasped his hand and he rested his forehead against hers.
‘I will likely be studying metals,’ she said. ‘I’ve told Grimsley to expect me.’
They stood, lingering.
Now, her greatest fear unfurled in her mind. The realisation settled.
She had been jilted by a man she didn’t particularly care about. Devlin was different. She didn’t want to tie her heart to him and find herself telling him she loved him, and hear the words come back to her that she’d said to him that night. Words about how much the person meant to you but, really, less than they’d expected and only a fragment more than anyone else.
‘But it’s not necessary to check on me,’ she said. ‘I’ll be fine.’ As long as she didn’t fall in love with Devlin and stumble off the ends of the earth.
And yet, forcing herself to move one step inside the door seemed herculean. Impossible.
He helped her, opening the door and letting his hand slide from her. One kiss and he was gone.
The butler stood in the shadows with a lone candle, holding it for her ‘Miss Rachael. I heard a carriage roll past and thought it might be you, and you’d need a light.’
Out of habit, she thanked him, took the candle and walked up the stairway.
She heard the rasp of the key in the lock and she paused at the top of the stairs. The butler had locked the door and, without another word, retreated to his quarters.
She sat the candle down on the floor and knelt to sit, her feet resting on the treads below.
The butler’s kindness to her had reinforced the fact that he, and every servant in her house, depended on her family, just as the Grimsleys did. If her father’s business failed, so many other people would be affected.
It wasn’t just about the soirées she wouldn’t be invited to, the dresses she would not be able to purchase and the trinkets that wouldn’t appear.
Many people depended on her father and she’d seen the accounting books and understood enough of the numbers, and the hope in Mr Grimsley’s eyes.
Now she knew why he’d not brushed her aside with an admonishment that this was best left to men.
She was his last hope, and his wife’s last hope, and her family’s.
She just wished to be held in Devlin’s arms and to be reassured that all was well. But nothing felt well any more. Nothing had felt safe since she’d spoken those words to Devlin. Words she meant, but had sounded hollow when Devlin laughed.
They had to sell some costly pieces soon. Grimsley had only taken half the pay he’d been promised for the last year. He told her that her father had been generous, practically overpaying him, and he and his wife had needed so little, but the winter had been cold, requiring more to heat than usual, and a window had been broken, and he’d named so many little things he’d had to purchase but which had added up. Her father didn’t know that.
Grimsley had had tears in his eyes when he’d told her that her father was the best man he’d ever worked for.
Devlin would never understand what it had meant to witness Grimsley’s face. The feeling of pride she felt when someone believed in her abilities.
Hannah Humphrey had managed a print shop and Rachael remembered walking by the window and seeing all the pictures. It had been grand, she thought, and her father had expressed amazement that a woman could do such a thing and sadness that Mrs Humphrey hadn’t married and been able to let a man take those trials from her.
It hadn’t seemed like a trial for Rachael, but an interesting life and much more fascinating than her father’s ownings of mostly pots, and silver buckles and kettles. Even the jewellery hadn’t fascinated her much.
Yet now her viewpoint had changed.
Likely no one would even consider her as having failed...as they would have if she’d been a man. She had no risk in that area as she wasn’t expected to succeed or even try. But she would always know.
She knew she couldn’t do it. Alone.
She squared her jaw. She’d survived the Duchess of Highwood. And while she might not be able to learn the busi
ness fast enough, she had an army she could muster to contribute. Her father. Her mother. Grimsley. The former apprentice. Her grandfather’s book. Together, they would make a force.
She jumped up and ran to her room, hoping for a chance to read over the studies before Mrs Grimsley’s brother arrived.
But with the book in front of her, all she could think about was Devlin and the feel of being in his arms.
* * *
Devlin left the carriage in a deft lunge, avoiding the steps while the vehicle stopped at the ornate main entrance as he’d requested. He gave a quiet goodnight to the driver and suggested he sleep the morning away.
He waited as his conveyance rolled into the street, letting his mind catch up to his body, leaving the solitude even more pronounced.
The night air had perfection in it, enhanced by the scent of a flowering bush in a nearby garden, or perhaps his own. He didn’t know.
He didn’t know what kind of plants grew in his garden and wondered if he was missing out on something.
In the distance, he heard a dog’s muffled whine which ended on a whimper, the poor soul sounding tortured. He questioned if the noise was an unusual occurrence, or if every night the animal barked just to hear himself.
Stars glowed overhead. Just as they always did on clear nights, he supposed. And they didn’t care if he saw them or not. They did as they wished.
But he knew that dark early mornings didn’t usually feel like this one. They weren’t so clear. So pristine. Wholesome. Alone.
He heard her words again. Cherish... Memory... Rushing into something...
He’d not realised how clichéd the phrases were. They’d been convenient in the past. But now they mocked him.
He contemplated his life while staring up at the heavens.
Even with the disastrous discussion with Rachael, he preferred the feel of the solemn night over the murky ones caused by too much revelry. The world he was created to be in. The celebrations of life. The laughter of others. Rachael’s world called to him as well.
The thought that had reverberated in his mind as she’d lain sleeping beside him had been how he’d wanted to see inside the world of other families when he’d talked to the drivers that night.
He’d wondered if Rachael’s parents were truly happy, or had created an illusion for their family. The coachmen had convinced him it was real.
He huffed. To merely create that appearance of happiness was a feat. One his own family hadn’t mastered easily.
One thing was an unknown factor in such an endeavour. The man he saw in the mirror. How could he ask Rachael into his world when he could not promise her happiness in it?
He didn’t want to grow old some day and see Rachael despairing. And he certainly never wanted her to entertain the idea that she would have been better off with Tenney.
He knew more about the social world and she knew more about a quiet home life and had the example of her parents’ marriage to examine. Just as he’d guided her in society, he’d begun to wonder if she could teach him about family.
He remembered the feeling when Payton had retorted that she’d probably had her embroidery needles named and his instinctive realisation that if she’d been born into higher society she would have already passed through his life.
Devlin had thought it all for her benefit, but now he saw how leading her into society had furthered his opportunity to pursue her. He’d not considered his own motives before.
Just as it always did, his mind seemed to be thinking without letting him in on the fact. He was grateful it was on his side.
Shaking his musings into the recesses where they would not trouble him, he strode into the house, past a doorway perfectly adorned by flowering vines.
He lived on one side of the house. His father lived on one floor and his mother another, and his brothers were spaced so everyone could take different paths and rarely run across each other.
A well-ordered family.
The butler greeted him, voice groggy from sleep, the servant pretending he’d been awake all along. The overstuffed chair at the base of the stairs had probably heard more snores than the man’s bed.
Devlin didn’t know why Tomlinson had stayed at his post so late. He wagered the one man knew more about the family’s lives than either his father, his mother or he knew.
Yet it could have been dedication that led to such knowledge. He wanted to find out.
He accepted the offer of a lamp to light the way to his suite, his excuse for entering the main doorway.
‘Does the Earl tell you to wait up until we are all home?’ he asked.
The butler stood straight. ‘No... Not now...’
Devlin waited.
‘When you were younger. Now I await your brothers.’
‘You stay up to see that Eldon and Oliver are home? Why?’ They were old enough to manage themselves, particularly when they were together.
‘The Earl. He asked me to.’
‘They’re with Payton and they might not even arrive home until daybreak. Our cousin will make sure they have no funds left to lose to him. Their allowances should go directly to him. Go to bed instead of waiting.’
‘I would, but your father may...’
One foot on the bottom tread, he stilled. ‘Is Father home?’ When the words left his mouth, he realised how often he’d asked them. How often he’d entered through the main entrance after his night out...to get the lamp the butler had for him...to ask if his father was home. Then, later, to ask if his younger brothers were home.
‘Yes.’ The butler’s words brightened. ‘He is.’
He took the steps two at a time, then stopped again. The butler hadn’t left the post. ‘Why does Father ask you to wait for my brothers?’
‘You’d have to ask him.’
Devlin reversed directions and strode into the second lamplight. He smiled at the butler. ‘What would your guess be?’
The butler spoke just as Devlin knew he would. Everyone trusted that smile and he supposed they should as it wasn’t false, just useful.
‘His children. He just wants to be reassured they are still returning home. That they are managing well.’
Devlin remained, knowing his presence, his relaxed question and his quietness prodded the man to continue. What good was a gift of encouraging people to talk if you didn’t use it?
‘Some day you’ll be doing the same to your children,’ the butler added. ‘On occasion, at night, the Earl wanders down the stairs and asks who is here.’
‘He could ask the next morning and he usually leaves his carriage for my brothers. The driver can let him know what transpired.’ A ruse Devlin had known his father used to keep up with him when he was younger.
‘But I suspect he resumes his sleep easier if everyone is at home. Or if he just hears word that all is well. It seems to soothe him and he rarely returns a second time in the same night. He’s said that if I’m not here, he knows everyone who is supposed to be home is in bed.’
‘Ah, we must have disturbed your night so many times...’
Tomlinson answered with brief nods and a smile. ‘I’m fortunate that I don’t need much sleep.’
‘I’ll hire someone to assist you so you don’t have to stay awake so often.’
The butler put his head down. ‘Your father already did and I let the young man help with my other duties. But I couldn’t let him take this one. Not often anyway.’ His words softened and he glanced up. ‘I feel better knowing everyone is safe.’
Devlin thanked the man, an inadequate gesture, but heartfelt, and continued up the stairs. He heard the butler settle into the easy chair. Another member of his family that he’d not realised existed.
He took the long hallway to his rooms.
Who knew? They’d been a family going their own directions his whole life, or so he’d thought.
A tradition he’d not really wanted to follow, but he’d not seen any reason to marry and risk adding another person who might clutter the peace it had taken them so long to obtain.
He laughed in the silent hallway as he thought of his father. Perhaps his family wasn’t as disconnected as he thought.
He remembered the thousands of times his father had told him to keep an eye on his brothers and watch out for them, then recited a litany of mistakes the boys could make.
His feet stilled and his mind whirled, racing over the nights of his youth.
He realised that part of the reciting of the mistakes his younger brothers could make was most likely for his benefit and he’d never suspected.
Likely his father had done something similar to his siblings. His brother had once complained to him that they were tired of hearing of Devlin’s missteps from their father and he wished he’d not been the youngest because their father constantly warned him not to do this or that because it hadn’t been well for Devlin. His brother had complained that Devlin had all the adventures and all the fun and they were being punished for it.
Devlin shook his head.
He’d thought himself watched carefully because, as his father reminded him so many times, he was the oldest, the heir, and he had to set a good example.
Changing direction, he went to his father’s rooms and knocked the same pattern he’d tapped on Rachael’s door.
He let himself in and his father jolted awake. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Tonight, I heard words I’d said before coming from someone else’s lips and it wasn’t a proud occasion.’
His father slumped back and reached out to fluff his pillow into the shape he wanted for his head. ‘If we were held accountable for every utterance...’ He slapped his pillow. ‘What words?’
‘The words where you say how much someone means to you, but really they don’t mean as much as they’d prefer.’
‘To that woman you saved from the fire?’
Harlequin Historical July 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Page 43