by Cheryl Holt
“Will the party on Saturday be here at the house?”
“Yes, here at the house.”
“And the wedding?”
“In your father’s office, at eleven in the morning. It’s to be very private, very discreet.”
“I can’t attend,” Susan said.
“I understand, but I’d be grateful if you’d think of me during the ceremony.”
“I will think of you. Have you learned what your address is to be?”
“No.”
“Well, once you find out, you have to write to me. We’ll figure out how to correspond.”
“I’d like that.”
“If your husband objects, we’ll carry on in secret. Swear it to me.”
“I swear.”
Nell fell into Susan’s arms again. They hugged for an eternity, then Nell pulled away and jumped out of the carriage without another word. She ran down the block, and she kept running until she reached the gates to the Middletons’ property. Then she slowed and walked through them, acting as if she’d been out for a stroll.
If Susan had called to her or offered a last goodbye, Nell didn’t listen for it, and she didn’t glance back.
* * * *
Nathan was in the foyer, when Susan burst in the front door.
“I have one question for you!” she hotly stated.
In the short period they’d been acquainted, she’d seemed agreeable and even-tempered, yet suddenly, she looked out for blood.
“What is it?”
“Are you engaged?” Before he could reply, she added, “Don’t lie to me!”
“No, I’m not engaged. Where did you hear that?”
She studied him, then scoffed. “I don’t know you well enough to decide whether to believe you or not. I intend to ask Trevor about it, so if you’d like to adjust your answer, please do it now.”
“Who is my purported fiancée?”
“Sir Sidney’s daughter.”
He waved away the accusation. “Oh. That’s an old story.”
“You don’t deny it?”
“Her mother had suggested a match between us, and there was an article about it in the newspapers, but that’s all it was.”
“You never proposed? She never accepted?”
“Gad, no. She can’t abide me. None of them can.”
Trevor sauntered down the stairs. He saw Susan and smiled. “I didn’t realize you were back.”
“Where were you?” Nathan asked her.
“I went to London.” She peered up at her husband. “Trevor, is Nathan betrothed?”
“Not that I know of, and if it’s been recently contracted, no one told me.” Trevor stepped into the foyer and grinned at Nathan. “Who’s the lucky girl?”
“There is no girl.” Nathan turned to Susan. “Why are you in such a lather about this?”
“I just spoke to Nell.”
“I’m glad you were able to manage it. I’ve been very worried about her.”
“Have you been?” She sounded quite dubious.
“Ah…yes? I’m very fond of her.”
“How fond?” she testily snapped. “I should probably mention that she is ruined and disgraced, and I have discovered the identity of the cad who ruined her.”
She glowered furiously at Nathan. His cheeks heated, and he muttered, “I’m sorry.”
A very clueless Trevor inquired, “Who is the cad, Susan?”
Susan said, “I’m devastated to report, Trevor, that it is your cousin, Nathan Blake, Lord Selby.”
“Nathan!” Trevor scolded. “Shame on you.”
“Now that I’ve apprised you, Nathan,” Susan continued, “what is your plan?”
He shrugged. “She’s marrying someone else. It’s a bit late for me to intervene. Besides, I doubt she’d be interested. She doesn’t like me very much.”
“You idiot!” Susan fumed. “Have you spent a single second wondering why she’s proceeding so quickly?”
“Yes, I have wondered why.”
“She’s increasing, you dolt!” Susan announced. “With your child.”
“With my child?”
“Yes, and don’t you dare claim it’s not yours or I will find a pistol and shoot you right in the middle of your cold black heart!”
“Susan!” Trevor chided, to which she responded, “Stay out of this, Trevor!”
“I wouldn’t insult Nell by claiming it’s not mine,” Nathan said, “but I’m stunned. If Nell was in this type of jam, she would have contacted me. She wouldn’t have kept it a secret.”
“She insists you are engaged to Sir Sidney’s daughter. I couldn’t convince her otherwise, so she feels there is no reason to approach you about it.”
“Who told her I was engaged?”
“My mother had read about it in the newspapers.”
“It’s not true!” he said. “It was a stupid rumor! How many times must I repeat myself?”
“You can declare it a thousand times if you wish, but Nell believes it. She also believes you to be a scoundrel who lifted her skirt for immoral purposes, and that you are in no position to behave appropriately by her due to your being bound to another.”
Nathan was afraid his knees might give out. He staggered over to a chair and eased down.
Nell was increasing? With his child? When he’d bumped into her in London, he’d been extremely upset to hear that she was marrying, but the underlying basis had never occurred to him. Why hadn’t it?
Was it because they’d only dallied once? Had he imagined he could skate through the sexual encounter unscathed? Well…yes, he’d thought exactly that.
He was such a dunce, such a fool!
“She has to wed in order to hide the scandal,” Susan said.
“I understand that now.”
“My father arranged it for her,” Susan told him, “and the wedding is next Wednesday. I ask you again: What is your plan?”
Nathan gazed at her, his pulse pounding in his chest. What would he do? He had no bloody idea.
Why would Nell want him for a husband? Why would she pick him over another man?
He was half-mad, a victim of his peculiar upbringing and his exotic life of wanderlust and adventure. He wasn’t stable. He wasn’t normal, and he’d be an awful husband and father.
If Mr. Middleton had found her a good man, a kind and steady man, wasn’t that better? If she could have a comfortable home and a quiet existence free of conflict, misery, and lunacy, shouldn’t he let her have them?
During their brief acquaintance, he’d proved over and over that he wasn’t a viable choice. Could he ever persuade her that he was? Would she take that chance?
* * * *
“Shall we walk?”
“Yes, I’d like that.”
Nell forced a smile and clasped Mr. Fenwick’s arm. They climbed down the verandah stairs and went into the garden. Other than a few cursory remarks before the meal was served, it was the first minute they’d been alone.
He was precisely as Florence had described him: chubby, stern, and quite ordinary. He was balding, with gray hair and eyes, and though it was silly to note it, he was very short. When they stood side by side, they were practically the same height, and she would immediately recall how tall Lord Selby had been, how he’d towered over her in such a manly way.
Of course those sorts of reflections instantly cast her into a whirl of disgust and despair. What was the point of contemplating him? It left her morbidly unhappy. She couldn’t and wouldn’t think about him!
He was the past, and Mr. Fenwick was the future.
They came to a bench, and he urged her over to it. She seated herself, while he loomed in front of her. Though she’d commanded herself not to ponder it, she couldn’t forget the gap in their ages. He was sixty, and she was twenty-two. The disparity was so glaring. She supposed—as the years rolled along—it would become less bothersome, but for the moment, it was enormously disconcerting.
He appeared grouchy and strict, and she was suffer
ing from the worst sense that she was about to be scolded by her grandfather.
His elderly looks and firm demeanor had her pondering Lord Selby again. He’d been handsome and dashing, funny and interesting. He’d been amused by asinine things, had joked about the absurdities of life, and he’d constantly made her laugh.
He and Mr. Fenwick were different as night and day, and as she realized she was once more comparing them in a negative fashion, she nearly clucked her tongue with exasperation.
Would she ever stop obsessing about Lord Selby? Was it her intent to ceaselessly measure them against each other? To what end? Was she determined to relentlessly brood over what she didn’t have?
She needed to focus on what had been promised, on what had been offered, and to cease tormenting herself over what was lost.
“I won’t beat around the bush,” Mr. Fenwick said. “I hope we shall always be able to discuss any topic out in the open.”
“I’ll hope for that too.”
“Mr. Middleton has been very candid with me about your condition.” His gaze flicked to her tummy.
“Yes, I asked him to be direct with you,” she said.
“It’s a decent attitude that I respect. I assume—despite your recent moral lapse—you’re generally an honorable person.”
“I like to think I am.”
“I’m willing to have you,” he brusquely declared, “but I apprised Mr. Middleton that there was one vow you had to tender to me before I could decide.”
“Oh.”
Nell had presumed the nuptial contracts were completed, and suddenly, she was very nervous. Evidently, there was a test she had to pass in order for him to step up. What if she failed it? Then where would she be?
“Don’t be so morose,” he said as he assessed her. “It won’t be difficult to answer, but I insist that you be frank in your response.”
“I’m sorry. This has been very stressful for me. I don’t mean to be so glum, and may I begin by saying that I’m incredibly grateful to you for considering this. I appreciate the sacrifice you’d be making on my behalf.”
He smirked. “It’s hardly a sacrifice. I’m an old codger who’d resolved to never wed again, and now, I’ll be blessed with a young, beautiful wife. There’s not much to regret in that scenario.”
“You don’t know me at all. I might turn out to be a shrew or a nagger. That could be a detriment.”
“Mr. Middleton swears you’re not. Was he lying to me?”
She chuckled. “No. I believe my acquaintances would describe me as pleasant and likeable.”
“And he’s paying me to take you, which is a benefit.” At his blunt statement, she blanched, and he scowled. “What? You imagined I’d agree without there being a financial incentive?”
She shook her head. “No, it just sounds so…callous, I guess.”
“Marriages are always about the money. Don’t let it concern you.”
“All right, I won’t.”
“If we proceed, you and your child won’t be entitled to inherit anything from me. It will all go to my own children.”
“I understand.”
“I’ll give the baby my name, and I’ll support both of you for the remainder of my life, but that’s it.”
“As I said, I’m grateful.”
“After my demise, if there’s any of your dowry left, you’ll receive it as a nest egg to start over.”
“I will pray you live a very, very long time, sir.”
He snorted at that. “But here is the question I must have answered if I am to be certain about this: The fellow who ruined you, were you terribly in love with him?”
His query was far removed from any subject she’d been expecting. She’d figured he’d ask about her antecedents or her education, that he might wonder if she had the training to run his household or to accurately keep the accounts.
He wanted to know about Lord Selby?
Cautiously, she admitted, “Yes, I suppose I was in love with him. I was convinced he loved me too, but I’ve had to accept that his motive in seducing me was a tad less noble than that.”
“He didn’t force you?”
“No. I was totally willing, and as I mentioned, I was confused about what was occurring. I thought he would wed me.”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“He was betrothed to someone else—a girl who was much better suited to his status and position. He would never have cried off from his engagement.”
“It happens.” He shrugged. “Don’t flog yourself over it. You’re not the first female to find herself in this situation.”
“I’m relieved to discover you view it like that, but you should be aware that I am very ashamed of myself.”
“As you should be.” He nodded pompously. “Now then, as to your fickle swain, I don’t wish to ever learn his identity or any details about him.”
“Good. I would hate to have it out there between us.”
“And I must demand you set aside your fondness for him. If you intend to moon and pine away and miss him forever, then I don’t want you and I can’t help you.”
“I concur that such strong yearning would be pointless, as well as injurious to our developing a bond.”
“Can you swear to me?” He puffed himself up. “Can you swear you will forget about him, that you will never look at me and lament what might have been?”
Nell stared up at him. She should have been angry with him for having the gall to tell her what to think and feel, but he was older and wiser than she was, and he recognized the impediment Lord Selby would be in the middle of their marriage—if she allowed him to tarry there.
She let a final vision of Nathan form in her mind. It was from the afternoon of Trevor’s picnic, when she’d invited him to join them. She hadn’t been sure if he’d attend, but she’d glanced up and seen him walking across the grass.
The sun had shone down, and the sky had been so blue. They’d laughed and chatted, and he’d entertained and fascinated her beyond measure. She’d never met anyone like him, and she was certain she never would again.
But…she would have his son or daughter to raise. It was like a parting gift he’d bestowed so she’d have a piece of him to carry with her. Hopefully, the child would posses all of his best traits. She would rear it in a kind way, would shower him or her with all the affection Nathan should have received as a boy, but never had.
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, pretending she could smell the grass at Selby, that she could detect the thrilling essence that had filled the air whenever he was near. Then, gradually, the image faded.
She opened her eyes and gazed up at Mr. Fenwick.
“I swear to you,” she solemnly said, “that I will never rue or regret. Not for a single moment of our time together.”
“I shall take you at your word, Miss Drummond, and when we go inside, I shall inform Mr. Middleton that we’ve agreed.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m positive we will be happy, and if not happy, at least content.”
“I’m positive we will be too. I’ll work hard to guarantee that you are content.”
He extended his arm to her. “We’ll return to the house, shall we? Let’s tell Mr. Middleton it’s settled.”
“Yes, let’s do.”
She stood, grabbed hold, and they strolled back to the party.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Nell stood in the Middletons’ front parlor. Her engagement party was in progress, and the place was packed with people, nearly all of whom she didn’t know. Mostly, it was a collection of Albert’s business associates, his managers, and some of Mr. Fenwick’s acquaintances.
Mr. Fenwick hadn’t invited any of his adult children to attend, or if he had, they hadn’t come. She hadn’t yet had a moment alone with him, so she hadn’t been able to ask him about it. She was terribly afraid they didn’t approve of his decision. Had he even informed them? Or would they be so upset that he figured it would be better to apprise them after the
deed was accomplished?
If that was the case, she would be starting off on a very bad foot with them.
Her greatest dream had always been to have a home of her own, with a large family and a doting husband. She was a woman with no cousins, no siblings, no aunts or uncles. There was just Albert, Florence, and Susan, and Susan had been yanked away. If Nell bound herself to Mr. Fenwick, but his relatives shunned her before the vows were even spoken, what was the point of any of it?
As she realized she was being plagued by negative thoughts again, she warned herself to buck up and stop feeling sorry for herself. She wasn’t being forced to wed Mr. Fenwick. If his children didn’t like her in the beginning, she would work hard to win them over.
Still though, as she glanced across the room to where he was huddled with Albert and some of his important clerks, a shiver of dread slithered down her spine.
Would he expect her to perform her wifely duties in the bedchamber? She’d occasionally heard that men, as they aged, lost the ability to perform their marital behaviors, and she was so unschooled in amour. She had no idea if that was true, and there was no one she could ask. Did all men lose it? Did some men lose it?
If Mr. Fenwick was still possessed of his male drives, she would have to allow him into her bed without complaint. Because of her sinful transgression with Lord Selby, she understood what would be required. The conduct was terribly intimate, and Mr. Fenwick was a stranger for whom she had no physical attraction whatsoever.
Could she bear to lie down with him? Could she let him strip off her clothes and touch her all over? Ooh, how she’d like to murder Nathan Blake! If she had a pistol, she would…would…
She noticed she was mulling him again, and she vigorously shoved her ruminations away and locked them in a mental vault where they would have to remain. She’d promised Mr. Fenwick that she would never ponder Lord Selby, and she’d meant it. She wouldn’t obsess!
Florence bustled over. She was an anxious hostess who was overly keen to impress.
“It’s a good crowd,” she said.
“Yes, it’s very nice. Thank you for putting it together.”
“People like Fenwick,” Florence claimed, as if needing to convince Nell.
“Yes, I see that,” Nell tepidly agreed.
