Otherwise Engaged

by Joanna Barker

  His words seemed to steal the very air from my lungs. “Attraction is essential,” I managed to whisper. He was too close—his warmth lingered between us, my skin prickling as if I’d just come in from the cold to warm myself at the fire. I edged backward, and the small of my back hit the wooden banister behind me. My hands found the smooth, cool wood, bracing myself, but Nicholas closed the distance between us once more. My heartbeat echoed in the quiet of the stairway.

  “But there is one quality more important than the others.” Nicholas set his hands on either side of me, trapping me between him and the banister. I stared up at him, unable to look away from his scorching gaze.

  “And what is that?” I breathed out the question, both terrified and exhilarated at what he might answer. I should leave. Now. But my mind had given up, my body in complete control. And my body wanted nothing more than to stay right where it was.

  Nicholas ducked his head beside mine, and his breath tickled the curls against my cheek. “Bravery,” he whispered.

  His lips found the skin beneath my ear, brushing so softly I wasn’t entirely sure he had touched me at all. But then his mouth traveled up my jaw, and the fire that followed made his touch all too apparent.

  I inhaled sharply, gripping the banister behind me, certain that if I let go, my knees would buckle. My vision spun, my mind unable to comprehend what was happening.

  Nicholas leaned into me, his arms intertwined with mine, his nose just skimming mine. I closed my eyes. “That is the sort of woman who could enchant me,” he said, his voice husky and deep.

  And then his lips were on mine, achingly tender, irresistibly sweet. He ran his hands up my arms, taking my shoulders and pulling me to him.

  I let him.

  I let him kiss me until my mind flared into being once again. Until I could remember why I could not want this.

  Edward.

  I broke away from Nicholas, my heart nearly splitting from how intensely it pounded. He dropped his arms from me and stepped back, though his eyes still held the fire I knew he had been holding at bay.

  “Nicholas,” I rasped, my thoughts racing to keep pace with my pulse. “I—I cannot—”

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs below us.

  “Rebecca?” Mother’s voice, and more footsteps. “Rebecca, are you up there?”

  I spun and scurried down a few steps until Mama’s dark hair came into view around the corner of the staircase. “Here, Mama. Just here.” My movements were harried, my face surely splotched with pink. I blessed the relative darkness.

  She squinted at me, her pale dress ethereal in the evening light. “Are you all right? What’s happened?”

  “Nothing,” I blurted. “That is, Olivia had a nightmare, and I came to see if I could help.”

  She couldn’t see Nicholas at the top of the stairs from where she stood, could she? I did not dare look back at him.

  Mama’s brow furrowed. “I see. And she is recovered?”

  “Yes.” I spoke too quickly. “Yes, I was coming back down. Lieutenant Avery will be along soon.”

  “All right.” Mama eyed me but turned to make her way back downstairs. “Everyone is gathering back in the drawing room.”

  I nodded, though she could not see me. As I followed her down, I glanced back up the stairwell.

  Empty.

  Nicholas was gone.

  Chapter Eighteen

  How I survived the remainder of the dinner party, I could not say. When Nicholas reentered the drawing room a few minutes after me, my lungs nearly collapsed from the strain of keeping me breathing.

  He did not glance to where I’d retreated, the corner of the room with Mama and Mrs. Mason. He went instead to join William and Juliana near the fireplace, Sarah soon following after. I clenched my hands in my lap. I toyed with the idea of pretending an illness so we might leave, but I wanted no suspicions whatsoever cast over the evening. Except then I applied myself to Mama’s conversation with a bit too much fervor, which earned me an odd look from her. I reined myself in and settled for a nod or murmured agreement here and there, all while trying to ignore the dark storm that had taken hold of my insides.

  Finally, finally, the party began to disperse. The Masons left first, after Sarah offered Nicholas a deep, grandiose curtsy. I fought the urge to glare at her.

  But then it was our turn, and I shifted my weight as Nicholas bid farewell to Mama and Mr. Hambley, William and Juliana. When they went to collect their things from the footman, Nicholas faced me for the first time since—well—since he kissed me. I was wholly unprepared for the drop in my stomach, the shaking in my hands.

  “Good night, Miss Rowley,” he said quietly, as if nothing stranger had passed between us than an innocent evening of cards and conversation. “I do hope the evening was to your satisfaction.”

  How was I to answer that? Irritation bubbled up inside me. Even though I knew why he acted so indifferent—we could hardly let anyone know what had happened between us—how was it he seemed so unaffected by our kiss? Why had he kissed me at all, for that matter?

  “Satisfied is not the word I would use,” I said shortly. “Good night, Lieutenant Avery.” I swept past him without another word, joining my family as we left Linwood Hall.

  It felt as though I would never sleep again. The little clock on my shelf ticked its way toward midnight and then past, but still, my body showed no signs of weariness. I paced the floor, across the thick rug to the window and back, for near to an hour in hopes that it would exhaust me enough to sleep. I pulled out a book that Juliana had gifted me, but as it had failed to entice me six months ago when I’d first attempted to read it, I was not surprised when it failed again tonight.

  My efforts were beyond useless. Nothing could drive Nicholas from my mind—his burning touch, his whispered words. And my reaction. What had I been thinking? I’d not encouraged him, or at least, I hadn’t meant to. But neither had I rejected him as I certainly should have. I was engaged. Engaged. What sort of woman was I to allow Nicholas to kiss me when I had already promised myself to Edward? The worst sort, that was for certain.

  But why had he kissed me? Nicholas was not a flirt. I could never imagine him kissing a girl without meaning it. And heavens, he had seemed to mean it.

  Not to mention all those breath-stealing things he’d said before he’d kissed me, about me being beautiful. Brave.

  I threw myself into bed, drawing my blankets under my chin. No one had ever said such things to me. Not even Edward, though he was always full of compliments. His had just never felt as . . . real. And that only made this all the more confusing.

  Because Nicholas knew about Edward. I’d been clear with him from the start that my heart was already taken and that I was perfectly happy. But he’d still kissed me, effectively ruining our friendship when he knew I could not give him anything more.

  Could I?

  I gritted my teeth. I would not allow myself to even think that. I may have foolishly allowed Nicholas to kiss me, but I would not be inconstant to Edward. I would be faithful. No matter that Edward’s kisses had never left me faint or shaken me to my core.

  It had just been unexpected, I decided. Nicholas had surprised me, and really, it had been somewhat ungentlemanly of him to presume I wanted him to kiss me.

  Even though I had. Quite badly.

  Blast.

  I threw a hand to my eyes, rubbing them ferociously as my brain insisted on playing again the moment Nicholas’s lips had skimmed across my skin. Blast it all.

  I fell asleep when the barest touches of light brushed the horizon and, then, for just a few hours.

  Fawcett helped me dress, and I refused to look in the mirror the entire time. I was sure I’d see the guilt written across my face. What a trollop I was—engaged to one man while kissing another.

  As Fawcett tightened my stays, I decided ther
e was only one thing I could do. I could not see Nicholas anymore. There would be no more shooting lessons or riding bareback. No more flirtations hidden as friendship. I had made a promise to Edward, and I would keep it.

  And I loved him. I loved Edward. It was a phrase I repeated to myself again and again throughout the morning as I breakfasted with William and then retired to the morning room with Mama.

  Mama sewed for an hour while I plucked away at the pianoforte, a halfhearted attempt at practicing. I wanted nothing more than to go for a bruising ride through the cool morning air, but I did not deserve a ride. I would sit right here and polish my lacking drawing-room talents. Edward needed a wife who could reflect well on him and, thus, my refocused attention on the pianoforte. I really ought to have one song I could perform for company, even if I could not play like Sarah.

  The thought of Sarah—and consequently, the events of last evening—made my fingers trip over the keys in an indelicate trill. How long would my body react like this? It had just been a kiss, for heaven’s sake, and not even my first.

  But it had not been just a kiss, a voice inside whispered. It had been Nicholas.

  I switched my tune abruptly, from a legato ballad to a lively folk tune. Such was my determination that I did not realize someone had arrived until heavy footsteps sounded behind me.

  “Miss Rowley.”

  My hands crashed down on the keys, nothing like that slight indiscretion from earlier. The cacophony of notes ricocheted inside my head but was still not enough to drown out the familiarity of the voice.

  I sat for a long second, the notes ringing unpleasantly in the air around me, then snatched up my hands and spun on the stool.

  Nicholas should not be allowed to look so attractive, not when the simple memory of him was enough to send my pulse into tremors. Now, as I took him in—fair hair ruffled from his ride, that jagged scar much too dashing, eyes intent and serious—I could not find my tongue.

  “How are you this morning?” he asked, clasping his hands behind his back.

  I stood abruptly and sent the stool teetering behind me. I bent to steady it, cursing my clumsiness. When I straightened again, he watched me with a raised eyebrow. Amused, was he? Thought it rather funny how out of sorts I was, did he? And after I’d spent half the night worrying over hurting him.

  “Quite well, thank you,” I said tightly as I shot a glance at Mama. She stared steadfastly at her sewing.

  Nicholas scrutinized me. “Did you not sleep well?” he asked in a quiet voice so Mama could not hear. “You look tired.”

  If he was trying to make amends for his severe breach in conduct last night, he was off to a terrible start.

  “I slept perfectly well, thank you.” I managed a clipped tone, though his intense gaze was doing indecent things to my pulse.

  He took a step forward, not so close as to be improper but certainly closer than was comfortable.

  “I did not sleep a minute all night,” he said, low and full of meaning.

  I stared at him. Because of me? Because of our kiss?

  “Ah, Avery.” William’s voice boomed unexpectedly from the doorway. I jumped. “What brings you here this morning?”

  Nicholas turned to greet my brother. I both blessed and cursed his appearance. I’d wanted Nicholas to say more, and yet I could not want that.

  “Just passing by,” Nicholas said. “Thought I would pay a visit, though I’m sure both your mother and sister have had enough of me after last night.”

  He was absolutely correct in that.

  “Never,” Mama said from her seat. “We are always glad to see you, are we not, Rebecca?”

  I forced a smile. “Indubitably.”

  Mama raised an eyebrow, but William saved me again.

  “Banfield brought me one of your letters by mistake,” he said to Mama, striding across to her and handing her a letter. “I would never question the man’s impeccable service, but I daresay his vision is not what it once was.”

  I barely listened, busy as I was avoiding Nicholas’s eyes. I moved across the room and dropped into a chair beside Mama’s, careful to leave no seats near me for him to claim.

  “Won’t you sit with us, Lieutenant?” Mama asked brightly, as if to make up for my rudeness.

  He sat on the settee across from us. “Yes, for a few minutes. I cannot stay long.”

  “Have you some pressing business?” William asked, leaning on the cushioned back of Mama’s chair as she set her letter on the table beside her.

  “No, not terribly pressing,” Nicholas said, but from the way his fingers drummed on his knee, I knew he did not speak the truth. “I simply have some matters that need my attention.”

  I refused to allow any curiosity to show on my face. He could have his secrets. I wanted none of them.

  “Have you given any more thought to purchasing Linwood?” William asked.

  My chin shot up, and I stared at Nicholas. When had he spoken to my brother about that? So much for not wanting his secrets.

  Nicholas spared me a quick, searching glance. “I have, though I’m afraid that decision is more complicated than I expected.”

  William glanced at me as well. “I see. In any case, I would be more than glad to have you as a permanent neighbor, but I understand that you wish to be sure.”

  So Nicholas was serious about purchasing Linwood Hall. From his actions last night—from his kiss—I couldn’t help but think I might have a little to do with it. Or perhaps everything to do with it.

  I needed to put an end to this. If he thought there was anything besides friendship between us, I could not lead him along, no matter how little I wished to have that conversation. He deserved to know my feelings toward Edward had not changed.

  Even if my feelings toward Nicholas had.

  But that did not matter. It could not matter. I was engaged to Edward, and that was all there was to it.

  I opened my mouth to suggest a walk in the gardens with Nicholas, something to get us away from Mama and William so we could speak in private, but before I could, a footman stepped inside the parlor and bowed.

  “A visitor,” he said, “for Miss Rowley.”

  I moved to the edge of my seat as he presented the small white card. A visitor? It could not be Sarah since we’d seen her last night.

  But as I took the card, I choked. The swirled, engraven B leaped into my mind, chasing out every bit of calm determination I’d just scrounged up.

  Footsteps. My gaze flew to the open door, to the man framed within—his dark hair and slim figure, strong cheekbones, and brown eyes.

  Eyes that were intent upon me as he swept his hat from his head and stepped forward.

  “Rebecca,” he said, his voice uneven, ragged.

  Edward.

  How—why—was he here? I could not speak. Edward had stolen my voice and my breath in one instant of shock.

  “Who might you be?” William moved into my line of view. His voice held an edge of disapproval. Edward had used my given name.

  Edward did not back away, instead squaring his shoulders and facing William directly. “I am Edward Bainbridge.”

  William’s brow shot to his hairline. Mama froze, her sewing abandoned in her lap. Nicholas . . . well, I could not bring myself to look at him.

  “Bainbridge?” William repeated in disbelief. “What is this about? And what business have you with my sister?

  Mama stood, and her sewing fell to the floor. “Rebecca?”

  I swallowed as Edward turned to me, begging me to intervene. No matter the why, he was here. And I had no choice but to tell the truth. Finally and completely.

  “Edward is here for me.” My voice, faint and unsteady, somehow still filled the quiet of the room. “We are engaged.”

  The silence rang as loudly as any church bells and lasted far longer. Then—
<
br />   “Engaged?”

  I whipped my head around. Nicholas gaped at me, hands braced on the arms of the settee. But why was he so surprised? He’d known all along I was engaged to Edward. He’d known—

  My memories came back to me in a whirlwind of realization. The night of the assembly, when he’d pieced together why I was acting so terribly and I’d first told him of Edward. Then each conversation after—that Sunday outside the church, our afternoons in the meadow—every time we’d spoken of Edward. Nicholas had teased me about him, called him my secret suitor. My admirer.

  He hadn’t known I was engaged.

  Had I never . . . No, clearly I never had. But how could I never have told him I was marrying Edward?

  My eyes were too wide, pricking as we stared at each other. Then his jaw tightened, and he stood abruptly. He strode to the door, Edward stepping out of his way, and he disappeared into the entry.

  I stumbled to my feet, steadying myself against the arm of my chair. I had to run after him, beg him to understand. I hadn’t known! How could I have known he thought Edward to be just another beau, a flirtation?

  I took one step before I faltered. I could not leave. Mama. William. They deserved the truth just as much as Nicholas did. More.

  And Edward. I could not abandon Edward.

  “Rebecca?” Mama’s voice rang in my ears as though she’d shouted. But her voice was quiet. Too quiet. “How can this be true?”

  I slowly turned back to her and William, both wearing stunned expressions.

  “I am sorry,” I whispered. “I meant to tell you everything. We met in Brighton, and—”

  “You meant to tell us?” William’s shock wore thin rather quickly, anger taking its place. “Did you somehow forget over the past few weeks that you were engaged to the son of the man who nearly ruined our family?”

  Edward stepped forward, eyes flashing, but I sent him a silencing glare. We were in this mess because of him. The least he could do was keep quiet and let me try to fix it.