The Artful Match

by Jennifer Delamere

  “I understand,” Cara interrupted, seemingly so disheartened she didn’t want to hear more.

  “I don’t think you should be living under my roof, since I intend to begin courting you officially and properly,” Henry finished as though she had not spoken. “With your permission, of course. And that of your f—” He stopped short. He’d almost said father, giving away the most glorious secret. “Family,” he finished.

  Cara didn’t even notice the way he’d faltered. She was looking at him in disbelief. “But you’re engaged to Miss Myers! Or you will be soon.”

  “No. What gave you that idea?”

  “Your mother told me. And when you spent those extra days in London, I knew you must be working out the details.”

  “Is that why you were willing to go on this ill-advised journey with Langham, even though you knew I’d be upset?”

  Her head drooped. “I suppose I felt I had nothing left to lose.”

  He gently lifted her chin. “We didn’t have time to discuss everything before I left, but even so, I thought you must know how I feel about you.”

  “I—I believe a woman needs those things explained clearly,” she answered, managing to inject reproach into her words even though her countenance was beginning to lift with hope.

  He needed that reproof. He’d been guilty of the same wrongdoing toward Cara that he had done to Olivia. He’d assumed his feelings were known instead of speaking them outright. He’d allowed circumstances to prevent him from boldly declaring himself. He vowed never to allow that to happen again.

  “I love you, Cara.”

  It felt wonderful to say the words, to get them out into the open air so there could be no mistaking his intentions.

  He expected her to say the same thing in return, but she looked too thunderstruck to answer. After several long moments, she said, “I suppose Miss Myers was terribly disappointed.”

  How like Cara to be worried about the feelings of her rival! Her compassionate nature was one reason among thousands that Henry loved her. “You needn’t be concerned on that score. There is someone Miss Myers fancies more than me. She told me so at her first opportunity.”

  Cara’s eyes fluttered wide. “How can that be?”

  Henry laughed. “I’m going to interpret that remark as your acceptance that I may begin courting you.”

  Cara was never one to hide her feelings. They always bubbled up to the surface. At this moment, he was overjoyed to see only love in her eyes.

  She answered, in glorious understatement, “All right.”

  Henry saw, rather than heard, her answer. He was focused on her beautiful mouth. Her lips were pale, which was no surprise, given the ordeal she’d been through, but still ripe for a kiss. So he leaned forward and gave her one.

  He kept it sweet and gentle, assuming she was still fragile after her near-drowning. But it wasn’t long before she responded with increasing fervor, pulling him closer, and he thanked God that this woman was willing to be his.

  Sometime later, Henry came to his senses. He sat back, realizing it wouldn’t do their reputations any good if someone walked in on them.

  They stared at each other, smiling in joyous wonderment. But then Cara’s expression turned pensive. “I hate to throw cold water on my own lovely fairy story, and yet . . . your mother will be so angry. She’s never liked me.”

  “I’ll admit she warned me you were laying a trap to ensnare me. She told me you had ‘set your cap for me,’ or some such expression.”

  A twinkle appeared in Cara’s eye. “I’m afraid that’s true. In a way.”

  “What?” He looked at her incredulously.

  Her mouth twitched. “You see, I was sure you were the man I was going to marry, although this belief was sorely tested.” She smiled, but her amusement seemed aimed at herself. “I must sound as silly as ever.”

  “I’d be happy to hear you explain it better.”

  “It began the night you came to take Langham from the public house. You took him out to the carriage, and the two of you climbed inside, and Langham was shouting, ‘Cry—God for Harry, England, and Saint George!’” She lifted one hand and spoke in a deep voice that was a credible imitation of his brother.

  “I remember it well,” Henry said, grimacing and yet laughing at the same time. Only Cara could get him to see the humor in the mess his brother always made of things. “Go on.”

  “Langham tried to get out of the carriage, and you stopped him. And the coachman accidentally slammed the door on your hand.” She gave him a critical look. “You cried out something terrible, as I recall.”

  “Guilty as charged,” Henry admitted. “And—?”

  “Well, that’s it, really. It was confirmed when I saw you the next day with a bandage on your hand.”

  He shook his head, mystified. “I don’t follow.”

  “Ah, right, I forgot. You don’t know about the others.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Who?”

  “My two brothers-in-law. You see, they both had injured hands when they first met their future wives—my sisters. Well, Nate’s was injured already. Michael’s was injured the first day they met, just like yours. So naturally I took that as a sign.”

  “The fact that I injured my hand was a sign that I was destined to marry you?”

  “I knew you’d think it nonsense. But there it is, just the same.”

  She tried to look abashed, and perhaps she really felt that way. But he saw pride and happiness in her expression as well.

  “I shall have to give my coachman a raise in pay for his role in ensuring we were brought together.”

  “Now, Henry, that’s just silly.” Her mouth widened to a sly grin. “It’s also exactly what I was thinking.”

  He laughed and would happily have kissed her again, but a disturbance in the hallway gave him pause.

  “I want to see her!” Amelia’s command was loud enough to hear through the door.

  “Miss Amelia, you ought not to be out of bed,” Mrs. Lowell admonished.

  Henry walked to the door and opened it. “It’s all right. Come in, Amelia.”

  She was dressed in the frock she’d worn yesterday. It was dry now, although wrinkled and dirty. Even though she’d gained her point and been invited to enter, she paused, looking doubtfully at Henry. Perhaps now that last night’s emergencies were over, she’d begun to worry about her future. He thought of Cara’s first reaction upon hearing that Amelia wasn’t a Burke: fear the child would be sent away. To his knowledge, no one had told Amelia outright who Delia was, and yet she had to wonder why she’d been brought here.

  He stepped back, opening the door wider. “Miss Bernay wants to see you.”

  Amelia entered the room, skirting Henry as though she were still not sure of him.

  Cara gave the child a welcoming smile as she approached the bed. “You look well, Amelia. You were very brave last night.” She reached out to take Amelia’s hand. “When I fell in the water, you did your best to save me, and I’m grateful.”

  “Who was that woman?”

  This brusque, direct question was normal for Amelia, and yet Cara looked taken aback. She glanced at Henry, clearly unsure how to answer.

  “She took care of you when you were a baby,” Henry said.

  Amelia was still looking at Cara. “She was the one who sang to me, wasn’t she?”

  “It appears so,” Cara answered.

  Amelia seemed to accept this. Considering her desire to always know the whole truth about a situation, it was telling that she didn’t ask the follow-up question Henry was dreading: Is she my mother? Perhaps she really didn’t want to know the answer.

  Henry supposed they ought to reprimand the girl for running away. Her foolish actions had endangered Cara’s life as well as her own. Yet Henry sensed this was not the time. He took his cues from Cara, who had chosen to stress Amelia’s bravery, not her foolishness.

  “Why did we come here?” Amelia asked, suspicion and belligerence creeping back
into her voice.

  Henry sat on the chair so he could be closer to eye level with her. “As I told you last night, we will go home together.”

  “I don’t have to stay here?” For all her bravado, there was a shadow of terror in her eyes.

  “No,” Henry said fervently. “Miss Bernay has to go away for a while, but in the meantime, Miss Leahy is already at Morestowe, ready to be your governess again. Maisie is waiting for you, too. I know you must be looking forward to riding her again.”

  Amelia’s lower lip began to tremble. “I’m sorry I ran away. I’m sorry I pulled Miss Bernay in the lake. I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

  Cara took in a sharp breath, placing a hand to her heart. “Langham and I deeply regret bringing you here. It was not the right thing to do. Sometimes adults can do foolish things, just like children can.” She looked earnestly into the girl’s eyes. “Can you forgive us?”

  Amelia nodded. A tiny tear breached her lower lid and slipped down one cheek.

  Henry reached out, tentatively offering the girl a hug. After the briefest of pauses, she accepted it. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly, and Amelia clung to him fiercely in return. She did not shed any more tears. She’d spent a lifetime learning to hold them in, it seemed. Henry understood now why parents wanted to shield their children from heartache and harm. He wanted nothing more than to make this girl feel safe and happy and loved.

  It was several minutes before Amelia finally relaxed her grip and stepped back. She turned her attention to Cara. “Where are you going?”

  “Well, I . . .” Cara faltered.

  “That’s something we haven’t discussed yet,” Henry broke in cheerfully. “Miss Bernay’s sister, Mrs. Stephenson, says Miss Bernay would be welcome to stay with her and her husband. On the other hand, Miss Bernay’s other sister, Mrs. Moran, absolutely insists that Miss Bernay stay with her. So it’s a bit of a quandary.”

  Cara turned shocked eyes to Henry. “How do you know these things?”

  “I spoke to them when I was in London. Very nice people. They seem eminently sensible, too.” He couldn’t resist a cheeky grin. “Different from you.”

  Cara reached out to swat him, but he leaned back, out of reach.

  “Henry, tell me,” Cara ordered. “How did you meet them? Does this mean Julia is back in England?”

  “She’s back, safe and sound, and eager to see you again. It appears you have a lot of things to catch up on.”

  “But how did you find them?”

  “That night you told us the story about hiding from the police in a washing kettle, you mentioned Stephenson’s name. So I decided to look him up. After all, if you are going to—”

  He paused to glance at Amelia. It seemed that by common consent, neither he nor Cara were going to reveal their intentions just yet. Amelia stared at Cara, openmouthed. Apparently she wasn’t familiar with the story of the washing kettle.

  “If you are going to, er, stay with us again,” Henry continued, “I thought it would be nice to get to know your family.”

  Her brows rose. “You were checking up on me.”

  “Do you mind?”

  She gave up her pretense of indignation. “No. I’m glad you found them. To be honest, I’ve been longing to see them again.”

  “It was fortunate that I wrote to Stephenson when I did. He and Julia had just returned a few days before. They knew you had left your previous employer but didn’t know where you’d gone. They were desperate to learn what had become of you. Langham tells me you’ve been deliberately avoiding them.”

  “We have some issues to sort out.” Turning toward the bedside table, she picked up a small pocket watch lying there and began to caress it thoughtfully. “I suppose I should do that soon.”

  “An excellent idea.”

  Henry didn’t see the need to mention that he’d sent Stephenson a telegram today and already received one in return. There were a lot of happy surprises in store for Cara; her family’s arrival here tomorrow would be one more.

  CHAPTER

  38

  THE NEXT DAY, Cara felt well enough to get out of bed. The doctor had recommended she take a few days to recover before traveling, so Henry had reserved the inn’s small private sitting room for their use during the day.

  At one point she found herself alone in the room, relaxing in a large chair. Langham and Amelia had taken a walk, and Henry had gone out, saying he had to attend to a few things. A book lay open in her lap, but Cara wasn’t reading. She was lost in thought, marveling over all that had happened and dreaming of the days ahead. Imagining life with Henry, living at Morestowe and raising Amelia. Praying she would find some way to soften the countess’s heart. Imagining how wonderful it would be when she was once more reunited with her sisters.

  She must have dozed off, because in her dream she heard Julia’s voice.

  “We have found you at last.”

  Cara bolted upright when she realized the voice was real. She could scarcely believe her eyes when Julia and Rosalyn entered the room. Cara hastily set the book aside and stood up. She must have risen too quickly, because she felt light-headed. It didn’t matter. She could not have fallen if she’d tried, because in an instant, the three sisters were locked together in an embrace.

  She clung to them, and they to her. Cara had missed them so terribly. It was true she was still angry about the things they’d done, but they were her sisters, and for now, she was glad they were here.

  When at last they released their hold on each other, wiping away their tears, Cara said, “Henry told me about meeting you in London. The doctor said I should stay here for a while, so I thought it would be days before I saw you.”

  “Well, we weren’t going to wait,” Julia said. “Michael received a telegram from Lord Morestowe, saying you’d been in an accident. Even though it said you were recovering, we had to come see for ourselves.” She scrutinized Cara. “You seem to have come out of it all right.”

  “Did you come by yourselves?”

  “Not exactly.” Julia pointed toward the door.

  Michael stood there. He smiled and waved but did not enter the room. He seemed to be holding back.

  “I really should be giving you a piece of my mind,” Cara said to Julia. “I didn’t know you’d left England until I arrived in London and your former landlady told me.”

  Julia attempted a contrite expression. “I’m sorry you had to hear about it that way. I did write you a letter—”

  “Which you deliberately planned for me to receive after you’d gone.”

  “I got a similar letter,” Rosalyn confirmed, although Cara was surprised that she didn’t seem put out by it.

  “I knew you would both be upset with me, but I believed it was a risk worth taking.”

  “Why did you go to South America?” Cara asked. “I may have been terrible at geography in school, but even I know that is nowhere close to your beloved Africa that you talked about for so many years.”

  Julia gave a self-satisfied smile. “I went to South America on an entirely different kind of mission.” She paused, exchanging glances with Rosalyn. What they were communicating was a mystery to Cara. Julia continued, “Michael met a man with information on the whereabouts of our father.”

  “Our father?”

  Julia was smiling. The kind of smile she never wore when the subject was their father. Cara’s heart began a slow, steady pounding. The hope that had kept her comforted all these years—the special hope she’d always refused to let go—pulsed through her soul. She tried to breathe, suspecting her difficulty had nothing to do with her still-sore lungs.

  Rosalyn returned to the doorway and beckoned to someone just out of sight. The person’s hand reached out to take Rosalyn’s. Even as the rest of him came into view, Cara knew.

  She knew.

  Tears spilled over his cheeks, although he was smiling. “You are beautiful, Cara. Just as I knew you’d be. I hope you have a hug for your papa.”r />
  Cara emitted a gulping cry, bringing her hand to her mouth. She looked around to assure herself this was real and not a dream. Everyone was smiling. Henry was there, too. He must have been waiting in the hallway with her father.

  When her eyes met her father’s again, he opened his arms, and with another cry of wonderment, Cara fell into them.

  Papa was home at last.

  “It was a big surprise to me, too, as you can imagine,” Rosalyn said.

  Julia had just finished telling the story of going to Venezuela, locating their father, and persuading him to come back to England. She finished by describing how she’d arranged for Rosalyn to meet them at the dock in Plymouth, although Rosalyn hadn’t yet known about their father.

  “She nearly fainted dead away when she saw Papa,” Julia said.

  “From happiness, as well as surprise,” Rosalyn pointed out with a smile. “I’m sure I looked as shocked as Cara did a short while ago.”

  Once Cara had gotten over the breathtaking thrill of seeing her father again, they had all sat down, and he had shared his harrowing story with her —how he had been coerced into gunrunning, escaped from the ship but nearly died in a hurricane, and then was rescued and given kind care by Diego’s family. The saddest part was how, even after he had recovered his senses, he had spent years afraid to tell anyone the truth about who he was and where he’d been, for fear he would bring disgrace or even harm to his family. He’d felt compelled to continue the ruse that he was not altogether sound of mind.

  “So many years,” Papa murmured, shaking his head. “So many years.”

  “But we are going to make up for it now, aren’t we, Papa?” Cara said. “Oceans did separate us once, but no longer.” She pulled her mother’s watch from her pocket. It no longer ran, because it had gone into the lake with her and been ruined by the water, but the latch still worked.

  Rosalyn and Julia gasped when they saw what was in her hand.

  “Cara, where did you get that?” Rosalyn said.

  “I found it in a jeweler’s shop. I’m still angry with you about it. Why did you pawn it?”