The Earl Takes a Fancy

by Lorraine Heath

  He didn’t wait for her to leave but headed down the stairs to begin preparing to get the hell out himself. He was more than ready to return to his residence in Mayfair and to leave Miss Fancy Trewlove and his heart behind.

  Chapter 24

  With her undergarments bundled in her arms, the lacings on her gown undone, and tears streaming down her face, Fancy ran to her shop, not caring if anyone spotted her. Her heart was breaking. She’d found the love for which she’d always dreamed, only to lose it because of an error in judgment. And Matthew blamed her, believed she’d tricked Beresford.

  How could he think that of her? After all they’d shared, all they’d confided in each other, how could he believe the worst of her?

  When he strode from the room, her damned pride had refused to allow her to chase after him. She should not have to explain herself. He should know that she was the one tricked.

  Not that it mattered what he thought, because it didn’t change the truth of things. Even if he still wanted her, she couldn’t bring shame to her family by rejecting Beresford. Her reputation was on the cusp of ruin and only marriage to the earl would see her accepted in Society.

  When she reached her rooms, she plopped down on the settee. Dickens leapt up and settled in her lap. Combing her fingers through his fur, she gazed at the photographs of her family on the mantel. What if she didn’t want Society? What if she wanted Matthew?

  She’d never had a row with anyone before, but people had rows all the time and overcame them. If she explained what had happened at the ball, would he believe her? Could her heart withstand the battering if he didn’t?

  He’d wanted to marry her.

  In the face of his anger over what he obviously viewed as a betrayal, she’d barely been able to absorb the words he’d thrown at her. Not exactly the way she’d always envisioned a proposal coming, but now his words reverberated through her. He loved her. Oh, he hadn’t used that term, precisely, but he’d admitted she’d won him over. And he’d wanted her to become his wife.

  Dickens hissed, and she realized she’d been hugging him tightly as though he were Matthew. She released her hold and he darted away, leaving her arms empty, as empty as her life would be without Matthew. How in the world was she to reconcile what she wanted with what was best for everyone else? At what point did she put her own needs and desires first?

  Glancing over at the mantel clock, she saw that she was an hour away from opening her shop. Her world was falling around her, but she couldn’t let her beloved shop go to hell as well.

  She prepared her bath, and when she sank into the warm water, all she could think about was Matthew’s gentle touch as he’d washed away her imagined grime. As the tears began to flow in earnest again, she buried her face in her hands. Everything she did, everywhere she looked were reminders of him. He made her laugh, feel special, hunger for passion. He’d defended her against Dibble and was going to see the man sent to prison. He’d shared happy times and sad. He’d been her rock.

  With wet hands, she swiped at her tears. How could her chest ache this badly, as though her heart were being physically rent from her?

  Would she find any comfort at all with Beresford? Would he make her laugh? Would she come to love him in time?

  Matthew certainly didn’t seem to like the earl. She shook her head. That made no sense. He’d meant he knew of the earl, didn’t know him personally. She’d mentioned his calling on her, and apparently he hadn’t liked that at all. Matthew had been jealous. But then if he’d been caught in a compromising situation with another woman, she’d have been jealous as well. Although she certainly wouldn’t have immediately assumed that he was the one who led the other to ruin. It had hurt her deeply that he had such a low opinion of her. But then she remembered his wife had been a trickster. His sister and mother as well, it seemed. No wonder he’d found fault with her when they’d first met, but had she not proven herself to him? Or had he been so hurt by the thought of losing her that he’d been unable to think clearly?

  Her mind was a fog of confusion, of questions, of anger, of hurt. She needed time to sort it, but the minutes were ticking away.

  Shortly before two o’clock, with her head held high, she walked into Mick’s office. He stood before his desk, arms crossed, Aslyn beside him. On one side of his desk was Aiden, Selena, Finn, and Lavinia. On the other side stood Thornley and Gillie. Beast was leaning against a bookcase. He loved books almost as much as she did.

  Obviously, Mick had let everyone know about the unfortunate incident, and they’d all gathered to lend their full support.

  Mick cleared his throat, released a deep sigh. “Last night, I was remiss in asking you exactly what happened. Would you like to tell us?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “He told me Collinsworth had some rare books and offered to show them to me. He said other people would be in the library but no one else was. I know I should have left right then.” She met each gaze. “I’m sorry I didn’t.”

  “When I walked in, it appeared you were locked in an embrace—”

  “He held me, yes. He wanted to kiss me. But I wasn’t having it. However, I know that based on the way he was standing, leaning toward me, to those in the garden, it had to look as though he was. And that’s what people will believe, what he will let them believe. But regardless of what didn’t happen, it doesn’t change the fact that I was alone with him. And because of that, if I don’t take him to husband, I will be ruined.”

  “Do you want to marry him?”

  Oh God, this was difficult. “You all have worked so very hard to get me to this point. I will do what I must.”

  In the hush of the room, he studied her for a full minute. “That’s not what I asked, sweetheart. Do you want to marry him?”

  “I’ve thought of nothing else all morning. I’ve struggled with it. Nearly strangled my cat, I held him so tightly.” She thought a little levity might help, but it didn’t. This was a serious affair, and she had to take it seriously. It was her future, her life. “I don’t want to disappoint you all or Mum, but I’m going to. I can’t marry him. I’ll just be miserable if I do.”

  Uncrossing his arms, he pushed away from his desk, strode over to her, wrapped his arms around her, and placed his chin on the top of her head. “You’re not going to disappoint us. We just wanted to know if we needed to take our fists to him if you wanted to marry him and he wasn’t going to step up and do the right thing.”

  Unshed tears clogged her throat as she wound her arms around his back, held him close. “I don’t think fists will be necessary. I can handle it.”

  He tucked his finger beneath her chin, tilted up her head, and gave her a warm smile. “We know you can.”

  More tears threatened. She was going to be a blubbering idiot before Beresford appeared. “I’ll be a woman of scandal. Society won’t have me.”

  “That just makes you one of us, then, doesn’t it?” Aiden asked.

  She looked past Mick to her grinning brother. “I’ve always been one of you.”

  He winked at her. “That you have.”

  A knock on the door had her heart skipping a beat, her stomach tightening. Mick pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “Give Beresford whatever answer you want, Fancy. We stand behind you.”

  No, she thought, they stood beside her. They always had.

  Mick strode back to his desk, leaned against it, and once more crossed his arms. “Yes?”

  Mr. Tittlefitz peered inside. “Lord Beresford is here and requires an audience.”

  “Send him in,” Mick ordered.

  Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Fancy turned and faced Beresford as he entered, and she wondered why she’d never before noticed how arrogant and entitled he appeared. Mr. Tittlefitz closed the door. She was rather certain the lord jumped slightly at the sound of it snicking into place. He gave her a nervous glance, and she suspected he hadn’t expected to be facing an army of Trewloves. He gave her a perfunctory bow. “Miss Trewlove.”

  �
�Lord Beresford.”

  He looked past her, took a step to walk around her. And she knew with absolute certainty that her decision was the correct one. She moved in front of him. “Your meeting is with me, my lord.”

  He blinked, looked to the window, the ceiling, the floor, finally back to her. “That’s not really how it’s done, Miss Trewlove.”

  “You will find, my lord, that we are a family that seldom does things in the manner they are usually done. I am, however, curious. Was it a coincidence that an audience was present to see us alone in the library?”

  The earl cleared his throat. “I might have mentioned to Mr. Whitley I was going to show you the rare Bible.”

  “Do you know what my dowry entails?”

  “I do. I find it quite satisfactory.”

  “I bet you bloody well do,” Aiden fairly snarled.

  She gave her brother a sharp look, and he mouthed, “Sorry.”

  She gave her attention back to Beresford. “In a situation such as ours, my lord, wedding bells soon ring.”

  “Indeed they do, Miss Trewlove. I shall assume I have your family’s blessing, and—”

  He started to lower himself. How could she embarrass him by refusing him once his knee hit the floor? “No.”

  He stopped, half-bent over and looked up at her. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Please straighten yourself, Lord Beresford.”

  He did as she requested, his eyes never leaving hers. Taking a deep breath, she released it slowly. “I’m sorry, Lord Beresford, but I can’t marry you.”

  Lord Beresford gaped, actually gaped. “If you don’t accept my offer, you will not be welcomed among the aristocracy. You will be ruined, dear girl.”

  “I’m well aware.”

  “I was willing to overlook your unlawful birth, but now you are asking me to overlook the scandal that your refusal will create. You will be fodder for gossip.”

  “Better fodder for gossip than a wife with regrets.”

  “If you deny me now, I shan’t be calling on you. No lord will call upon you.”

  “Then, Lord Beresford, I must say I am more than happy with my decision.”

  “You have to marry me.”

  “She’s given you her answer,” Beast said. “Now, off with you.”

  With a huff, a glare, a jutting out of his lower lip, Lord Beresford stormed from the room, slamming the door in his wake.

  “I might have had to disown you if you married him,” Finn said. “What an oaf.”

  With a soft smile, and a great sense of relief, she faced them. “Thank you for . . . well, everything. Your love, your support, your understanding. I love you all so much.”

  “What now, Fancy?” Gillie asked.

  “During all these years, while you’ve guided me, you never once asked me what my dream was.”

  “What is your dream, sweetheart?” Mick asked.

  She gave him a smile that caused her jaw to ache. “My dream is to marry a man I love, a man who loves me. And I’m going to make that dream come true.”

  Crossing the street, she felt free, liberated, excited about the future, couldn’t wait to reconcile with Matthew, to reassure him that she loved him, wanted to be his wife. She was done with the aristocracy.

  Later when she went to tell her mum about the decision she’d made, she would ask Matthew to accompany her. She wanted them to get to know each other. She was relatively certain that once her mum saw how he called to Fancy’s heart, she would not only understand her daughter’s decision, but would applaud it. Her mum had been with a man she loved and one she hadn’t. She understood the rewards and the horrors.

  She strode past her shop, increased the length and speed of her steps until she reached Matthew’s residence. Smiling brightly, she inhaled deeply, and lifted the knocker, taking satisfaction in the bang as it fell back into place. Mrs. Bennett should be done with all her chores by now, shouldn’t be about to see Fancy fling herself into Matthew’s arms when he opened the door.

  Except he didn’t.

  She lifted the knocker three more times. Waited. Balled her fist and knocked. Nothing. Sliding over to the window, she raised a hand to shield her eyes and peered in through the window. She knew there was no furniture in the front parlor. She could see a portion of the passageway into the next room but couldn’t see any furniture. Surely, it was just the angle.

  She knocked one more time and then tried the door. Locked. A fissure of disquiet went through her. Had he packed up and moved away? She shook off the absurd thought. He was no doubt just having a meeting with his man of affairs. Maintaining his income required his attention. He would return shortly. She would come back later, see if he might join her for dinner at the hotel dining room.

  Her steps were much slower as she made her way back to the shop.

  Marianne greeted her with a bright smile. “Did your meeting with your brother go well?”

  She hadn’t told her clerk the particulars. Rumors would circulate among the upper echelon. No reason for them to be spread elsewhere. “It went perfectly. How was business while I was away?”

  “We had a couple of customers who purchased five books between them.”

  “I don’t suppose one was Mr. Sommersby.”

  “No, miss. Were you expecting him?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m going to be in the office seeing to some business.” Once she was settled in her chair behind her desk, she began working to reassemble the book Timmy Tubbins had brought her. It helped to distract her from wondering when Matthew would return, although it couldn’t stop her from running various conversations through her mind. Where to begin, what to explain, what to omit. How best to get them back on an even keel.

  At half five, the bells jangled. After the quiet of the afternoon, her heart gave a lurch of nervousness mingled with a speck of joy. Could it be Matthew? Had he spent the day tearing apart their encounter that morning, analyzing every word said, striving to determine how everything had gone so wrong and what was now needed to make it right once more? She wasn’t certain she knew precisely what to say, how to greet him, but was confident when she set eyes on him, everything would fall into place. Love had that sort of power.

  But when she stepped out into the shop it was to see Mr. Tittlefitz leaning on the counter talking with Marianne.

  “Hello, Mr. Tittlefitz.” They both gave a startled jump like they’d been caught doing something they ought not. She certainly knew how that felt.

  “Miss Trewlove, I was just asking Marianne if she’d like to go with me to the music hall this evening.”

  Fancy couldn’t help the swelling she felt in her chest. She’d known these two were right for each other. With a raised eyebrow, she looked at her clerk, who was blushing profusely.

  Marianne lifted a shoulder shyly. “I told him I’d be delighted.”

  “Then you must be off to get ready.”

  “I don’t want to shirk my duties.”

  “No duties to shirk. No one’s about. Off with you now— No, wait right there.” She dashed up the stairs to her bedchamber, went to her vanity, opened a drawer, and pulled out a pair of silk gloves that she had yet to wear. When she returned downstairs, she offered them to her clerk.

  “Oh, Miss Trewlove, I can’t take them. They’re far too lovely.”

  “I have another pair.” Several in fact. “They’ll make you feel elegant on your outing.”

  “If you’re sure . . .”

  “I am.”

  Her clerk took the gloves and stroked them. “I’ve never had anything so fine. I’ll wash them and bring them back—”

  “They’re yours to keep. Who knows? You may have other occasions to wear them.”

  “Thank you, Miss Trewlove. You’re always so generous.”

  “Nonsense. I hope you both enjoy your evening.”

  “I’ll walk you home,” Mr. Tittlefitz told Marianne.

  “I’ll just get my reticule.”

  She disappeared into the of
fice, and Fancy turned to her brother’s secretary. “I’m so glad things are going well between you and Marianne.”

  “She’s a lovely lass. I’m sorry Mr. Sommersby won’t be assisting any longer with the lessons. I’d begun to like him.”

  Fancy’s stomach dropped down to her toes as a wave of dizziness along with a spot of dread hit her. “Why will he no longer be helping?”

  He seemed taken aback by her question. “I assumed he’d spoken to you about his plans. He’s moved on.”

  Trying to make sense of his words, she stared at him. “What do you mean he’s moved on?”

  “He brought me the key to his terrace just before noon. Told me he wouldn’t be staying for the remainder of his lease, had already packed everything up and moved out. Odd thing. He’d paid for two months in advance. Said I was to use his remaining balance to assist anyone struggling to make their monthly rent.”

  “What’s this, then?” Marianne asked, clutching her reticule.

  “I was just explaining to Miss Trewlove that Mr. Sommersby won’t be helping with the lessons any longer.”

  “He doesn’t have to live here to help us,” she said.

  Mr. Tittlefitz looked at her sadly. “He told me he wouldn’t be returning to the area.”

  She could barely think for the blood rushing between her ears. She’d left him believing she was going to marry Beresford, because at the time she’d thought it was her only alternative. She’d given him no hope, no reason to believe that they had any chance of being together. But she certainly hadn’t expected him to pack up so quickly, to be gone in the span of a couple of hours. Her chest was in danger of caving in on itself. “Did he happen to say where he was going?”

  “No, miss.”

  Maybe he was going to live with his sister. She didn’t even know the woman’s name. How could she find him to let him know that she wasn’t going to marry Beresford? She knew so much about him, yet so few intricate details. “You two should be off now, making the most of your evening.”