by Liz Tyner
‘No. I have feet and arms instead of wings. I am created to work.’
‘Isn’t it much more pleasant to be an object of veneration?’ he asked, wondering, and thinking it would bring her all the joy she would ever need.
Light he’d not seen before shone on her face. ‘I will work.’
He waited, returning his perusal to the glass baubles. Letting the silence in the room grow.
‘I want—What I really want—is—Late in the night while I was reading the letters over and over, my father noticed I was awake and was concerned. I confided that I wasn’t to marry. I explained that I had changed my mind. He was crushed. I cried when I saw that and I begged him to let me have more to do with the jewellery he sells to take my mind from the fact that I’m never to wed. At first he refused, then he told me the truth of the finances. He said there may be nothing left there for me.’
‘You need to consider that. A husband’s funds can save you.’
‘I may remain a spinster.’ Her chin went high. ‘I see nothing wrong with that.’
‘Neither do I. It was a statement.’
‘Didn’t sound nice.’ She glared at him, her voice tense. ‘You don’t think I’m capable of handling business matters and I should marry so I won’t starve.’ She shook her head. ‘And you are the one who told me that a match with a disparaging person would be like wearing good shoes with thorns in them.’
Her irritation shocked him, and he couldn’t speak. He’d meant nothing unpleasant by his comment, only having concern for her future, and she was upset.
He studied her. Yes, even her eyes were a little pinched. Those beautiful, expressive eyes that he could gaze into for hours.
Instantly, he stopped the direction of his imaginings. He was thinking like a heartsore spinster himself. He coughed, pulling himself into reality.
‘It was meant as a sincere, respectful comment. The business might fail. You will have no way of supporting yourself if it does. If you marry, a husband’s assistance can be vital.’
‘Right now, that isn’t in my future. A silver and jewellery shop in London is. The small structure which sells goods in Manchester and has rooms above it. And two ventures in Bath and I want to make the best of them.’
‘Then aid your father within the constraints of society. You cannot afford to let your name be tarnished in the paper. You cannot. Don’t sit by and watch the business dwindle into nothing.’
He walked over and picked up the fashion-plate magazine. ‘If you are not going to flutter about and pursue a courtship, then you’ll have to take on more work. You’ll have to be an ambassador for your family endeavours. My father attends events and, often as not, during the night a word or two of business is discussed that he acts on later. Perhaps a question is asked or a new idea is presented and the others give their opinions on it.’
‘That doesn’t sound like a relaxing night.’
‘It is, to them. They are with friends, discussing what can go right and what can go wrong and why things work the way they do. I suppose it is much like mothers might enjoy discussing their children. The men are discussing their workday babies. The way they spend their daytime hours.’
For a moment, he’d forgotten who he was and when he remembered the ease returned to his face. He held a hand out, planning to touch her arm in a reassuring caress. He stopped just before he held her.
Devil take it, she must have the sort of charm he had, only hers worked on him, pulling him to her. Wrapping him up in her eyes and causing him to forget everything but comforting and being close to her.
He had to remain in control of himself. He couldn’t let two alluring eyes, a perfect nose and luscious lips distract him. He was not a youth glancing at an attractive woman, yet he was unable to distance himself from an awareness of her.
‘Let’s sit,’ he said and, instead of an embrace, he guided her to the sofa and sat beside her. As he sat beside her, a feeling of peace invaded him. He wondered if Rachael somehow did for him what he did for others.
His mind fastened on the image of her in his arms. It would not be the same as holding any of the fragile butterflies. Deep within, he knew he missed something vital by not clasping her, but she was too injured. He could not take advantage of her when she was in pain. He would not use someone’s heart to manipulate them.
He wanted to comfort her, but holding her would only be diverting her from her problem. It wouldn’t be benefiting her at all. It might be damaging.
He directed all his attention on what she needed.
‘What is your plan?’ he asked.
‘I am to have a business. Jewellery would not have been my first choice, but it is what is in front of me. I am to take care of myself. I don’t wish to spend my days getting my hair pulled and twisted and filled with so much hair dressing that my scalp is sore when it is being washed out, while my father is worrying about how he will afford the maid for me.’
‘You know that life is a game,’ he said. ‘That’s what it must be to have some happiness.’
Happiness. Deep in the pit of his stomach, a nagging feeling reminded him he might not comprehend his own feelings, but only how to create solace for others. A touch of anger replaced the doubt and then he shoved it aside, knowing he must soothe Rachael.
He opened the periodical to a page and randomly glanced through it, a smile on his lips. ‘This is a military catalogue for women.’
She let a whisper of breath flow through her teeth before speaking. ‘You are a rake. It is a game to you. To me it has to be more. I must gather all my wits and duck my head and work as hard as I can. My security will depend on it. I can’t spend my parents’ limited resources on frivolities.’
‘It’s more than that.’
‘It’s more? Dances and drinking and gambling? You have the most fortunate life of all. To be the heir.’
‘It is my role. I am happy that it suits me well. I represent my family, although it is not seen that way. If my father makes a misstep, and he has on many occasions—he doesn’t get on well with my mother—sometimes word gets about that he has a new sweetheart and then I am there to make a bit of laughter. It’s the way of the Bryan family. For centuries, I say at the club. I laugh it off. I might shake my head, but I make light of it.’
‘It’s terribly wrong of your father and you shouldn’t jest it away.’
‘I can’t make it go away. But I can make light of it. When I see my mother, I twirl her around and tell her she is the best mother in the world. That we are indeed blessed to have her. She glows with happiness and I tell her tall tales to make her laugh. I am the rakish, wayward ambassador for my family. I duel in jests, dancing, gambling and whatever else that will make the world lighter.’ He rose, lifted the magazine again, frowned at the cover and then held it up to her. ‘And you must be the same. With soirée dresses. With smiles.’
She shook her head.
He tossed the periodical to the table, letting it slap the wood. ‘You have a man of affairs to handle the business of the day. You need to increase the customers. Let the man of affairs work with the numbers. You send the people to him.’
‘I can understand numbers,’ she said. ‘Eventually. I will get a tutor if need be. I want to absorb what goes on behind the curtain. Why some endeavours fail and others succeed.’
He felt he was trying to tell her that very thing, but she had to believe it also. ‘Calculate the true figures, Rachael. Mr Tenney just made a jab at your profits. I’m sure he was only wanting to protect his own reputation and finances. He didn’t give a jot about yours.’
She must understand how precarious her financial future was. She mustn’t be forced to marry someone because the roof was leaking, the larders were empty and her mother was hungry.
‘In society, right now Tenney will not turn the other cheek and wish you well. He now holds a grudge against you. It is the
way of people like him. Rise above. Rise above so you can drop the contents of a chamber pot on his head. A chamber pot filled with coins. When the night is long and you are tired of the dancing, remember Tenney and keep moving.’
She stood. ‘Society doesn’t fit me. They don’t want me.’
‘Build a bridge into it one smile at a time.’
‘I don’t feel like smiling.’
‘Do it anyway. It’s comforting to others. I seem to be able to say what I think and people don’t hold it against me. In fact, it seems as though I can say rather straightforward comments and get praise because I have no animosity in my voice. It’s my haphazard observation, not criticism. And presented as a jest we’re all in on.’
‘You flash a smile and people forgive you.’
‘A smile can get a person far. I’m proof of that, I believe,’ he said. ‘It is a useful tool. I’ve used it many times.’
‘Do you?’
‘Absolutely. I build on success. The lessons...who would want lessons to learn more? I would rather learn from the people around me and discover what life has taught them. They are my studies.’
‘You must have been a terrible student to your tutors.’
‘No. They loved me. I wanted to do well so I asked questions and left the studies alone. I told them I might need their knowledge in my estate management some day and they tried to make the way easier for me.’
‘Why not both the books and the tutors?’
‘Would you say to a songbird perhaps don’t spend so much time making the world happier with your music, But endeavour to wake up people in the morning like the cockerel does? And then would you ask the cockerel to sing for us so that he may be a better chicken?’
‘You are adept at speaking nonsense.’ Her upper lip tightened.
‘You must control yourself, Rachael, and not try to be so obviously sensible. Life does not always make sense to the kind-hearted. In fact, the opposite may be true.’
She looked at the ceiling and then at him. ‘I will try to be more nonsensical around you.’
‘Yes. If you must think, please do so early in the day. Get it over with quickly so you can enjoy the remaining hours better. The people at the dances don’t want you to show them how intelligent you are, they want you to listen to them. That is the secret. Ask them the questions to get the answers they want to share.’
Without his awareness, they had moved closer and closer, and now they were inches apart, connected and separated by the tensions that smouldered within.
He’d never stood so close to a woman and felt so much without them touching.
For the second time in an hour, he lost his ability to speak.
‘I’m not good at deception,’ she said.
His mindfulness returned. The distance between them increased. ‘It’s not deception. It’s survival.’
She didn’t respond, standing as firm as a statue and eyes as unfeeling.
He wanted to change the statue. To soften it. To bring it to life in a way it had never been before.
But it was not his role to take.
‘You must be among the people who will be helpful and you must persuade them you’re worthy,’ he said. ‘Life is like mirrors reflecting our outsides, not holding our insides up for everyone else to witness. People envision us through their own eyes and hardships.’
With a flutter of her lashes, she batted his statement from her. ‘Words from someone at the top of the heap.’
‘But it’s a heap. And it can be climbed. Surely you have a drop of adventurous spirit inside you. You’d better if you’re devising a plan of taking on a business endeavour.’
‘You’re proposing more than a drop.’
‘You must don your armour. Your livelihood might depend on it. And your parents need you to be strong.’
‘I don’t have the funds to compete with earls’ and bankers’ families. To appear at the gatherings over and over and mingle with them. And I am strong.’ Her voice faltered.
‘Strong enough to help your parents?’
She flinched.
He couldn’t summon a smile. It was as if he watched two people he did not know.
‘I don’t want to dance the night away,’ she said. ‘I want to be serious. To be myself. I want to learn from Mr Grimsley. Besides, I can’t receive the invitations to go among society’s notables.’
‘You should trust me on this. I can help with the invites.’
‘Perhaps.’ One clipped word with not quite two syllables.
With the frost lingering in the air, he bowed and took his leave.
But he left a part of himself behind in the room with Rachael. It was a part that he could not see, or feel, but he knew something was missing inside him that hadn’t been missing when he arrived.
They would likely never see each other again, except from a distance.
Chapter Ten
‘Your mother told me Montfort is here.’ Her father hurried into the room. He examined the space and discovered she was alone. He checked again, making sure he’d not missed seeing Devlin hiding behind a curtain or in a corner.
‘Yes. He just left.’ She picked up the newspaper, noticing the stiff creases. The places Devlin’s hand had smeared the un-ironed ink. No matter, it would make excellent fodder for the fire.
‘What’s that?’ her father asked, diverted.
‘The Viscount wanted me to read the society pages,’ she said.
‘I heard.’ His chest puffed. ‘What did he think of it? Of the broken betrothal? The rumours?’
‘He was dismayed.’
‘Oh.’ Her father’s lips moved again, but no sound emerged.
‘Dismayed,’ he finally repeated. ‘Well, your happiness is more important than anything else.’ He moved into the hallway, shoulders slumped, seeming to forget they were having a conversation.
His footsteps plodded in the hallway. Rushed whispers. Her mother’s voice. Consoling her father.
She opened the paper again and the words hadn’t changed.
Yes, she had financial needs to keep her mind from this. For today.
She gathered her skirts in her hand and hurried out of the room and down the stairs.
Outside, she rushed to the street and saw the carriage, already trundling away.
She waved the paper wide and then flung it towards the carriage, scattering the pages into the air.
The wheels slowed.
She stood alone, watching each revolution as the cab springs squeaked while the driver slowed, then navigated a sharp turn.
Papers were strewn around her feet. She scooped them up and held them, waiting for the vehicle to return.
* * *
Devlin jumped from the carriage. ‘Oh, did I forget that?’ He smiled. ‘I really was giving that rubbish to you.’
She scrunched it into a smaller wad. ‘I’m making no promises. But I’ll try. If you’ll help me.’ Wind blew a lock of hair across her face and she brushed it aside.
He was silent, but this time he knew it was because happiness was trying to flourish in his heart. The part of himself that he’d left behind had returned and filled him stronger than ever.
Rachael needed him and that made him whole.
‘The Countess will produce invitations for you,’ he said.
‘That would be kind.’
He took the crumpled mess from her hands. ‘You’ve got a smudge of ink. By your ear.’
‘I almost always get newsprint on my face. It’s a skill I have.’ She brushed it, missing.
He nodded to the vehicle. ‘Let me put this aside and we’ll talk about the skills you’ll need to navigate the finest ducal ball.’
He tossed the print into the interior of the vehicle and closed the door. They stood, the body of the carriage shielding them from most eyes.
/> ‘The smudge is still there.’ He questioned with his brows, she nodded and remained immobile, while he brushed the speck at her ear. Bolts of warmth caused her to feel like a different person.
He stilled. ‘You’re perfect now.’
‘I don’t have a lot of gowns to wear for gatherings and festivities among exalted peers. You have to spend a great sum on many dresses. Mrs Grimsley’s daughter makes all my clothing, except for the clothing for balls. I don’t know if she is skilled enough for them.’
‘You must not concentrate on what you can’t do at an event, or in life, because the world is full of those things. You must ponder on what you can do. You must work on the bridge to build that will get you in the direction you want to go. The shortest path and the easiest path are already overfilled by others.’
She put a hand at her throat. ‘That’s what you say to help me? Encouraging me?’
He nodded. ‘You will do what feels impossible to you. Humans do the near unobtainable all the time. Every single day someone is out there making strides. Someone who ignores the struggle and focuses on the goal, who is willing to play the game with what he has and not what everyone else has.’
‘I’m not skilled at the easy conversations people have in gatherings.’
‘Again, you’re looking for excuses. You don’t need to walk into the room once and have everyone amazed that such a wondrous person has deemed to attend their night. At a soirée, you would merely have to convince them of your honesty, your integrity and let them admire the jewellery.’
He tapped her wrist. ‘If you’ve a bracelet that goes with the dress, you must wear it and be seen. You are not to be just a shopkeeper’s daughter. You bring every bit of your genuineness into the room when you walk in. And you are to make everyone envious of the woman who can drape herself in jewels and have no unease about the cost. They won’t notice the dress. They’ll only notice the loveliness. Are you aware of the expense of jewels?’
‘Yes, but I can wear a new bauble once and it goes back to Grimsley the next day. To me, even the most expensive ones wear just the same as the glass ones.’
