Always

by Cheryl Holt

  Yes, he was an aristocrat, but he was never concerned about the snobbery and status that drove the upper classes. Once he decided to wed, if he chose an aristocratic debutante, one who was flighty and silly and immature, he’d be miserable forever.

  He was a sad, solitary man who needed a wife who adored him, a wife who’d dote on him and shower him with affection. Nell was the perfect person for the job.

  A smile flitted across his lips. “Would it surprise you to hear that—when I bumped into Nell—I was going to propose to her? I had planned to stop by your mother’s house and kidnap her.”

  Susan nearly whooped with excitement. “No, it wouldn’t surprise me, but why didn’t you proceed? I’m certain she would have accepted.”

  “I was too late.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He froze, then downed the remainder of his brandy. “She’s getting married.”

  Susan could have fainted from astonishment. “What?”

  “She’s getting married,” he repeated.

  “How did that happen? When did it happen?”

  “I have no idea. After she informed me, I didn’t stay around to ask any questions. I guess your father picked somebody for her.”

  “My father! Oh, my lord, that poor girl! What is she thinking? She isn’t thinking; that much is clear.”

  “It was ludicrous for me to ponder it anyway. As you mentioned, she and I barely know each other. I’d have driven her insane before the first week was out.”

  “I doubt that’s true.”

  “I’m positive—whoever your father selected—he’d be a much better candidate than I could ever have been.”

  He turned back to the window for an eternity, then, without glancing at her, he said, “Would you excuse me? I just remembered I need an item in my room. I should fetch it.”

  “Will you come down after Trevor is home?”

  “Ah…yes, of course,” he murmured, but he was already marching out. It was obvious their discussion had left him exceedingly distraught.

  Was he in love with Nell? The thick oaf had to be!

  Who would ever have thought? The grand and glorious Nathan Blake, Lord Selby, African adventurer and legendary explorer, was in love with dear Nell Drummond, and he’d had his heart broken.

  Well, Susan owed him a mountain of favors. Perhaps she could fix a few things for him. There was no legitimate reason Nell would have allowed Susan’s father to find her a husband. Especially after she and Susan had witnessed the mess he’d stirred by betrothing Susan to Percy. After that charade, who would trust him with any matrimonial choice?

  It appeared Susan had tarried in the country much too patiently. She had to make a quick trip to London to talk to Nell right away. In the morning, she’d be off to town, and she wouldn’t relent until she had some satisfactory answers as to what was occurring.

  * * * *

  “Nell!”

  Nell whipped around, wondering who had summoned her. The voice had been furtive and urgent, and the only possible source was a nondescript carriage parked down the street that wasn’t visible from any of the rooms in the Middletons’ mansion.

  She started toward it.

  She’d been suffocating in the house, so she’d taken a walk. She wasn’t a prisoner, though occasionally, it seemed as if she was. Florence had had an appointment, so she’d been off the premises and not prowling and scowling so that Nell felt as if she shouldn’t go outside.

  Her true intent had been to mail a letter to Susan without placing it in the basket in the front foyer. After running into Lord Selby, she’d been forced to admit that her correspondence wasn’t being sent to Susan. What had Florence done with it? Had she simply tossed the letters in the fire?

  Nell had spent hours composing her latest missive, struggling to set the right tone. When she’d strolled out the door, the letter had been hidden under her corset, as if she were a thief or a spy.

  She had to tell Susan she was marrying, but she was so conflicted about what to reveal. Albert had persuaded one of his upper-level managers, a man named Walton Fenwick, to take her off his hands. She hadn’t met him yet, but he was attending Florence’s supper party that evening.

  Florence had described him as short, rotund, ordinary, and a tad stern. He was a church elder and very involved in parish activities, which had Nell nervous about her condition. Would he be judgmental? Would he be condemning? If she had to put up with constant moralizing about her fall from grace, she couldn’t bear it.

  The most disturbing fact about him was that he was sixty years old. He’d already buried three wives, and he had eight grown children and many grandchildren. What would his adult offspring think of Nell? What would they think of their father having such a young wife? What if they were awful to her? What if they felt she’d tricked him into it in order to steal their inheritances?

  She shook off a shudder of dread, refusing to fret.

  It wasn’t as if she could mount a protest or instigate a rebellion. Florence had given her a choice as to how she wanted to deal with her situation, and she’d chosen marriage. Since that was the road she’d elected to travel, she didn’t dare have second thoughts.

  She had to march forward, optimistically believing that all would be fine in the end.

  She approached the carriage, and the summons came again. “Nell, it’s me! Don’t let Mother see you or I’m afraid she’ll drag you away.”

  Susan! Nell ran the last few steps, as Susan flung the carriage door open. In a trice, Nell was sequestered inside, the door shut, the window shades pulled down to conceal them from passersby.

  Nell collapsed in her arms, then they both began speaking at once: “How have you been?” and “I’ve been so worried about you!” and “I wrote to you over and over!” and “I didn’t get any letters!” and “I had no idea where you were!” and…and…and…

  Eventually, they eased back on the seats, and they faced each other, holding hands, their eyes searching.

  “Are you happy?” Nell asked her.

  “I’m so happy! Trevor is a marvelous husband.”

  “I’m glad for you, but I wish you’d told me what you were planning. Your mother accused me of conspiring to help you escape, and I had no defense.”

  “There wasn’t time to confide the details. Trevor suggested we elope, and we grabbed our cloaks and departed. And have you heard the news about Percy?”

  “That he was wed to that woman? Yes.”

  “You and I assumed she was his mistress—that’s what Trevor assumed too—but he’s been married to her for years.”

  “I’m still stunned by it. Who acts that way?”

  Susan leaned nearer and tightened her grip on Nell’s hands. “I won’t waste precious minutes discussing me or Percy. I want to talk about you, and we ought to hurry in case Mother stumbles on us.”

  “It’s probably wise. She’s very angry with you, and I can’t imagine she’ll ever calm down. She wouldn’t like to learn that we were together.”

  “Well, she can jump in the lake for all I care. What’s this about you marrying? You mentioned it to Nathan when he was in town yesterday.”

  Nell’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, I’m getting married.”

  “To who?”

  “He’s your father’s employee. Walton Fenwick?”

  Susan pondered, the shook her head. “I don’t know him. What’s he like? Are you fond of him?”

  “I haven’t been introduced to him yet. He’s coming for supper tonight.”

  As Nell voiced the comment aloud, it left her feeling terribly anxious. She wasn’t certain she was making the right choice, but what was the right one?

  She couldn’t birth a bastard baby. She couldn’t strut about London with no ring on her finger and no husband in the picture. The only option was a hasty marriage, and Albert had arranged one. Why, then, did the whole business sound so sordid and wrong?

  Susan studied Nell, her intense gaze digging deep. Ultimately, she said, “Te
ll me what’s happening with you. What’s this really about?”

  Nell’s initial reaction was to lie and claim she’d arrived home from Selby with wedding fever, that she’d brazenly begged Albert to pick someone for her, but this was Susan, her dearest friend, the girl she’d always viewed as her sister.

  “I’m very much in trouble.”

  Susan scowled, struggling to understand, but comprehension quickly dawned. “You’re increasing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who is the father?”

  With every fiber of her being, Nell yearned to state a false name, to leave Lord Selby out of it, but she couldn’t. She glanced down at her feet and admitted, “Lord Selby is the father.”

  Susan squealed with dismay. “I thought it was just kissing and games between you. I thought it was harmless fun.”

  “It was a bit more than that. Quite a bit more actually.”

  “Oh, Nell…”

  Tears flooded Nell’s eyes. “Do you hate me?”

  “Hate you! Don’t be ridiculous. I’m shocked, but I’m not livid. If Lord Selby is the culprit, explain how you ended up with Mr. Fenwick as your betrothed.”

  “When I returned from Selby. I was sick all the time. I presumed it was stress from all that had transpired there, but your mother figured it out. She offered to have your father find me a husband—or I could have gone to an unwed mother’s home and moved into a convent afterward. I chose the husband, and your father obliged me.”

  “For pity’s sake,” Susan grumbled. “My mother can be such a witch.”

  “Don’t chastise her over this. She’s been very kind about it. Much kinder than I deserved. She let me decide, and marriage is the best conclusion for me. If I’d slinked off to an unwed mother’s home, I’d have had to give the baby out for adoption. I couldn’t see me doing that.”

  “No, I couldn’t see it either.” Susan patted Nell’s hair, her shoulder, then she inquired, “Why didn’t you tell Nathan yesterday? Why didn’t you write to him? Didn’t you think he should be apprised?”

  “Why would he want to know?”

  “Nell Drummond! That is the silliest remark you’ve ever uttered. He is so fond of you, and you’re carrying his child! He should step up and do the right thing.”

  “I would never humiliate myself by discussing it with him.”

  “I’m certainly willing to tell him for you.”

  “You can’t, Susan! This entire situation is difficult enough. I can barely get up in the morning and put one foot in front of the other. I can’t have him harassing me. It was very hard for me to settle on this path, and I’m so desperately unhappy.”

  A few tears overflowed and dripped down her cheeks. Susan opened her reticule and pulled out a kerchief so Nell could dab them away. A deluge was possible, and she took several deep breaths, determined to calm herself before she completely fell apart.

  “Let me ask you a question,” Susan said, “and you have to be totally honest with me.”

  “I will be—if I can.”

  “Are you in love with Nathan?”

  “I assumed I was, but I’ve had to accept that I might have misconstrued the basis for our dalliance. I’d convinced myself it was about affection and attachment, but I’ve had to recognize that I was merely a girl who physically enticed him, and he couldn’t resist. He has a history of seducing females like me.”

  Susan scoffed. “Who told you that? My mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you believed her?”

  “How could I not? I don’t really know him, and think, Susan! He’s an earl. He’s an aristocrat. Why would he have trifled with me? Why would he have noticed me at all? There’s no valid reason. It was only lust, and I can’t debate this with you. It’s killing me to talk about it.”

  “He’s in love with you too,” Susan ludicrously announced.

  “Please don’t do this to me,” Nell begged.

  “I’m serious, Nell. Don’t marry Mr. Fenwick. Come with me.”

  “To where?”

  “To Selby. We’ll speak to Nathan. He’ll wed you tomorrow if he can obtain a Special License by then.”

  The prospect caused such a fluttering in her pulse that she worried she was about to have a massive heart seizure.

  Once—when she’d been foolishly prancing about at Selby—she’d have given anything to have Nathan Blake for her very own. For a bit of time, she’d actually persuaded herself that it could occur.

  The whole interval had spun out like a peculiar dream. A handsome, dashing prince had flirted with her, and she—a sort of pathetic Cinderella—had blossomed under his stunning regard. But dreams weren’t real. They didn’t come true.

  A carriage rolled by, and Nell caught a glimpse of it. It was Florence returning from her appointment.

  “That was your mother,” she said. “I should get back to the house.”

  “A pox on my mother’s head!” Susan crudely fumed. “Would you listen to me? We have to tell Nathan. We have to travel to Selby and inform him of what’s wrong so he can fix this. You have to let him, Nell. He needs you.”

  Nell studied her friend for an eternity, wondering if she’d ever see her again. With Mr. Fenwick being a devoted Middleton employee, he wouldn’t countenance Nell fraternizing with the daughter who’d infuriated his boss. Unless the Middletons reconciled with Susan in the future, this might be their final meeting.

  The minutes were ticking by like the clock of doom, ringing out the seconds until she would be Mr. Fenwick’s wife. When that happened, she wondered if she might simply become invisible.

  “Susan,” she said, “you’re stirring a fantasy that could never transpire.”

  “I talked to Nathan about you. He’s bereft that the two of you parted.”

  “That’s not true. If he’s distressed for some reason, it has naught to do with me.”

  “You’re so wrong, Nell! Why can’t you understand?”

  “I should get inside.”

  Susan bristled. “You’re being ridiculous. I’m telling you that he’s in love with you. After he hears about your situation, he’ll wed you like that!”

  She snapped her fingers, the sound echoing in the small space.

  The weight of the world was on Nell’s shoulders. How much misery could she abide? How much agony could she be forced to suffer?

  “I’ll say this once, Susan, but only once. Then I can’t discuss this with you ever again.”

  “Fine. What is it?”

  “Lord Selby is betrothed. He has been for years.”

  Susan was floored. “What?”

  “He’s betrothed, so while it paints a very pretty picture to imagine him pining away, the reality is that he’s promised elsewhere—to a very suitable girl.”

  “He’s never mentioned it to me,” Susan said.

  “Why would he have? The arrangement has been in place practically since he was a boy. I’m betting he rarely thinks about it.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “It’s been in the newspapers and everything. I saw the announcement with my own eyes.”

  “Who is his fiancée? Do you know?”

  “It’s Sir Sidney’s daughter. She and Lord Selby have been fond since they were little, and their families have always been determined that they wind up together.”

  Susan frowned and sat back. “I had no idea.”

  “So I can’t count on him, and I have to save myself—in the only way I can. Your mother and father agreed to help me, and I’ve decided to let them. Please don’t make me feel guilty, and please stop trying to dissuade me. You can’t.”

  “I didn’t mean to disconcert you. It’s just rushing toward us so fast.”

  “Unfortunately, a baby doesn’t wait to appear at the right time. I need to get the wedding accomplished before I begin to show.”

  “I doubt Nathan will allow you to go through with it.”

  “Why would he prevent me? If he succeeded, I’d be unwed, shunned in soc
iety, and my child a bastard forever. Or perhaps he’d seize the child and raise it at Selby. It would be an interesting gift for him to present to his bride after he was married.”

  “He should be apprised—so he can choose for himself how he’d like to proceed.”

  Nell’s pulse raced wildly again. She was rattled by an exhausting wave of excitement where she pictured Lord Selby being informed of her condition, then severing his lengthy engagement. He’d ride to the rescue, whisking her off to the altar and marrying her himself.

  It was such a dangerous vision, one that left her quite breathless with a desperate yearning.

  But the far-fetched scenario was a fantasy, and Nell’s problem was real life. It was real calamity. It was her paying for her sins by binding herself to Mr. Fenwick, and she wouldn’t second guess or pray for a miracle.

  “If you leave here,” Nell said, “with me thinking he’ll magically arrive like a knight in shining armor—but he never did—I’d be crushed.”

  “What if you’re mistaken? What if he did arrive?”

  Nell tsked, growing impatient. “Haven’t you been listening? He’s engaged! Now cease your harangue. I can’t tolerate much more.”

  “Travel to Selby with me anyway,” Susan said. “You can live there with me. Nathan won’t mind, and I don’t care if you’re disgraced. You can tell Mr. Fenwick and my mother to choke on a crow!”

  “Can you imagine me at Selby? As my belly swelled, people would remember how the Earl had been sweet on me over the summer. Rumors would flood the estate, and everyone would realize the identity of the father. Ultimately, when Lord Selby brought his wife home, there I’d be. I would never humiliate her like that, and I couldn’t bear to see him happily married. It would literally kill me.”

  Their conversation staggered to an end. They stared and stared, and finally, Susan asked, “When is the wedding?”

  “Next Wednesday. Mr. Fenwick is coming to supper tonight, then your parents are hosting a party for us on Saturday evening. Wednesday, it will all be over.”

  “Will the party on Saturday be here at the house?”