Otherwise Engaged

by Joanna Barker

  He stopped, and since my arm was still wrapped in his, I stopped as well. “Bareback?” he repeated in disbelief.

  “Yes, and you mustn’t look so shocked. It is not terribly difficult, and I am getting quite good at it. Learning to mount was the greatest challenge, what with my height, but even then I think I’ve mastered the skill at last.” I was blathering, but I could not help it. Why was he not saying anything?

  “Rebecca,” he finally said. “You must know that I would never forbid you to ride, not when you clearly love it so. But bareback? You cannot expect to continue after we are married. Such a thing is hardly a worthy pursuit for a respectable lady, especially a married one. What would people say?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I do not plan on galloping around Lancashire, if that is your worry. I am more than able to be discreet, I assure you.”

  But he shook his head. “You cannot keep such a thing hidden. Someone would see, a servant or tenant. Then where would we be? I am only thinking of your well-being. I would hate for your reputation to suffer, not when there was anything I could do to prevent it.”

  “You mean your reputation.” My pulse quickened. “Because anything I do would reflect upon you.”

  He looked relieved. “Yes, of course. You must see how it is important to uphold appearances. We are still a relatively new family in our town, and any hint of scandal would hurt our name terribly.”

  “Yes,” I said shortly. “I do see.”

  I pulled my arm from his, and for the first time, he seemed to realize I was not particularly happy with him.

  “Rebecca,” he said, stepping forward. “Please. I do not mean to sound so heavy-handed. But this is important to me. My mother would agree with me, I have no doubt.”

  “Oh. Your mother, who lied to you and who hates me? Yes, we should certainly defer to her superior knowledge on this matter.”

  A glint came to his eye, one I had never seen before. He was irritated with me. Well, that was perfectly fine because I was irritated with him.

  “Mother may have made mistakes in the past, but she knows better than either of us how to rise in Society. We should be lucky to have her guiding us.”

  I bit my tongue, hard. If I hadn’t, a great many words I knew I would soon regret would have flooded from my mouth. I turned away. “I think I should like to walk the rest of the way alone.” I stalked off before he could speak again. He had to go the same way, but that did not mean I had to walk with him.

  I could not imagine what he was thinking. He knew how I felt about his mother, especially in light of everything we’d learned about his father. And he knew me. At least, I thought he did. If he did know me, I could not imagine why he would be so shocked at my reaction.

  I could feel Edward’s eyes on me still, so I quickened my pace and soon left him behind.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Dinner was an awkward affair that night. I had avoided Edward the rest of the day, but when I’d come down for dinner, he had taken me aside and apologized, saying he hadn’t meant it to sound as if he’d chosen his mother over me or that he would be such a domineering husband as to forbid my various pastimes. Since I’d wanted to escape the conversation as soon as possible, I’d accepted his apology, but now that we sat beside each other at the dinner table, it was clear to the both of us that our argument was not so easily forgotten.

  “How is your meal?” he asked, his third question of such trifling insignificance.

  I cut into my pork too hard and scraped the china beneath, the sound grating in my ears. “Fine.”

  Juliana raised her eyebrow across the table, but I ignored her. I hadn’t expected to see her at dinner so soon after giving birth, but as she tended to flout most of Society’s rules, her refusal to remain confined to her rooms was hardly a surprise.

  “And how did you spend your afternoon?” Edward’s voice held a hint of uncertainty as he attempted to claim my attention again. “I’d hoped to see you.”

  “I found myself entirely engrossed in a book and forgot the time.”

  He did not question that blatant lie, though he knew it was such. I enjoyed Shakespeare and a few of the popular Gothic novels, but I was no great reader.

  “Would you still like to ride tomorrow?” he asked, not yet giving up on our conversation. “I would more than welcome the opportunity.”

  Would he, now? “Perhaps.”

  I was thankfully saved from any more attempts at civility between us when Mama cleared her throat from where she sat at the head of table. “I thought this a good time to tell you all some wonderful news.”

  I tried to focus on her, far too aware of Edward’s fingers tapping on the tablecloth beside his plate.

  Mama stood. “I am so pleased to share that Mr. Hambley and I are to be married.” Mr. Hambley reached over and took her hand, squeezing it. She smiled at him. “As soon as possible.”

  Juliana rose immediately and descended on Mama with congratulations and excitement, while William shook Mr. Hambley’s hand with a great grin. Edward even extended his good wishes to them both as I sat there without moving. I waited for the familiar weight to worm into my chest, the ache that I was losing part of myself—my mother and what memories remained of my father—but nothing of the sort came. Instead, peace settled on me like a cool rag on a fevered brow.

  I did not like change, but I finally knew this one was for the best.

  I went to Mama as the rest of the group found their chairs again and chattered about the wedding. She eyed me as I approached, but when I wrapped my arms around her, she did not hesitate to return my embrace.

  “I am so very glad for you, Mama,” I whispered. “You shall be the happiest bride; I know it.”

  She laughed as I pulled away. “Not happier than my own daughter, I am sure.”

  Her words twisted inside me and yanked at my heart. But I gave her another hug and a kiss on her cheek, then found my seat again, trying to hide the fact that I could not breathe properly.

  “We should like to be married soon,” Mr. Hambley said. “The end of the month.”

  My eyes shot to Edward, and he was already staring at me. He opened his mouth to speak, surely to contest that we planned to marry at the same time, but I shook my head, the barest movement. He closed his mouth, though his hand fisted tightly around his fork.

  “That is wonderful,” Juliana said, leaning forward. “Shall you have a wedding breakfast? I should so like to help you with it.”

  Mama waved her off. “You have more than enough to occupy your time, my dear. Just a simple ceremony is all we need and perhaps a small breakfast with a few friends. The Masons, of course, and the Woodwards and Mr. and Mrs. Brooks, if they can come.”

  I nodded. It would be a lovely gathering, perfect for Mama.

  “And perhaps Lieutenant Avery?” Mama suggested innocently.

  I stopped nodding.

  “The lieutenant?” Juliana squinted. “I hardly think he’ll have returned by then.”

  “Returned from where?” Mama asked.

  “His assignment, of course. I daresay the navy intends to keep him at least a few months.”

  I’d taken a sip of wine to distract me, but now I choked, nearly spewing droplets of wine along the length of the table. I raised my napkin to my mouth and swallowed hard, then coughed.

  “Are you all right?” Edward’s hand was on my back, his voice in my ear, but I had no attention to spare for him.

  I stared instead at Juliana. “Lieutenant Avery is leaving?” My voice cracked.

  “Yes.” Her face paled. “He sent the school word a few days ago that he had been requested for an assignment and that Olivia would be staying at the school while he was away.” She leaned forward, reaching out a hand as if she meant to touch me. “I am sorry, Rebecca. I thought you knew.”

  I shook my head. “When does he
leave?”

  She hesitated. “Tomorrow, I believe.”

  Tomorrow.

  I sat back in my chair. The carved wood dug into my shoulder blades, but I hardly noticed. Nicholas was leaving tomorrow.

  The conversation went on without me, Mr. Hambley making an admirable effort to direct talk of the wedding, but that hardly stopped the worried glances Mama, William, and Juliana constantly sent my way. Not to mention Edward, horribly still and silent beside me.

  I couldn’t stand it. I stood abruptly. “I-I am sorry.” My words tripped over each other. “I must beg your leave. I am not feeling well.”

  The men rose, all with varying degrees of confusion and concern, but I waved off any offers of help and hurried from the room. The cool, quiet entry beckoned to me, covered in long shadows cast by the descending sun. It would be full dark in an hour. I stopped at the foot of the stairs and leaned on the banister.

  Nicholas was leaving.

  Why should that matter so very much to me? I myself would be leaving Havenfield in mere weeks, as soon as Edward and I were married. I hadn’t imagined I would see much more of Nicholas, save for passing in town or church, though the thought pained me.

  But that was not why Juliana’s news struck deep into my soul, scorching me like a brand. It wasn’t that he was leaving. It was that he hadn’t told me.

  My skin burned as if I’d spent too much time in the sun, and my pulse leaped and bounded within me. I had to do something to rid myself of this energy. Vanishing into my room held little appeal. No appeal.

  I caught sight of William’s open study door down the corridor, and I straightened. Normally, when I felt this way, the only solution was a bruising ride in the cool wind. But now there was one other thing that brought me the thrill of riding, the release of emotion that I craved.

  I did not hesitate. I strode to the study and went to the mantel, where a long wooden box lay settled amid books and framed maps. I maneuvered it free. It was heavier than I’d anticipated, but that did not dissuade me. Tucking it beneath my arm, I strode out the front door and started across the lawn. If shooting did not relieve my frustration, nothing would.

  And I needed words with Lieutenant Nicholas Avery.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It took me a good quarter hour to reach the meadow on foot, the air around me a hazy blue as the sun began to sink toward the horizon. When I arrived, I immediately set about the routine that had become familiar to me during our shooting lessons. I found the sack of targets hidden behind the tree and tied them to the low-hanging branch, then I set the wooden box on the flat rock and propped open the lid.

  Inside lay William’s dueling pistols, though I doubted he had ever used them as such. They were much finer than Nicholas’s well-worn flintlock. I lifted one pistol, light and sleek. It was different, certainly, but it would function the same.

  I loaded both pistols. When all was ready, I stood and raised one gun, training my practiced eye on the targets spinning in the breeze. I aimed for a small bundle and, after a few seconds of focus, pulled the trigger.

  The flash of fire and cloud of smoke were nearly as satisfying as watching the bundle burst apart, peas flying through the air. But the sharp crack that echoed around me was what I most wanted. As loud as it rang in my ears, I knew the shot would be heard for miles around.

  I set down the pistol and took up the other, loaded and ready. I aimed and fired, missing this time. I fell to my knees and immediately reloaded both weapons. I was slower than I wanted; I narrowed my eyes in focus and let the memory of all the weeks of practice guide my hands.

  I shot again and again, hitting more than I missed, but that hardly mattered. I wanted the roar of the gunshot, the wild jerk of the pistol as the ball burst from the barrel. This I could control. This I could understand.

  One target refused to be hit, a small clay jar that mocked me as it swung unhindered. When I aimed and fired at it three times without claiming a hit, I let out a low growl of frustration. “Blast it,” I muttered.

  “You should not shoot when you are angry.”

  I spun, dropping my arm that still held the pistol. Nicholas watched from the edge of the trees, arms crossed and expression indifferent. Only his eyes, intent and piercing, revealed any hint that he was at all affected by seeing me.

  I turned away, falling to my knees again to reload. My hands shook as I measured the gunpowder. “And why should that matter?”

  “Anger makes it difficult to see clearly.” His footsteps moved toward me. “Anger leads to mistakes.”

  I rammed the lead ball down the barrel with a bit more force than necessary. “I do not need your lectures, Nicholas. I am perfectly able to manage.”

  I snapped closed the frizzen and cocked the hammer. But as I stood and raised the pistol to aim, Nicholas’s hand came from behind me and wrapped around the barrel, pointing it downward.

  “I am trying to shoot,” I said shortly, even as bumps spread along my skin. I was far too aware of his arm against mine.

  “No,” he said. “You want to talk. You knew I would come. So let us talk.”

  He was right. Of course he was right. I hated that he knew me so well, and I hated that my feet longed to move closer to him, that I wanted to lean into his chest.

  I let go of the pistol and stepped back. Nicholas released the hammer on the flintlock and lowered the pistol.

  I did not move, hoping he would speak first. But when he remained silent, the demanding question inside me would not be held back any longer. “Why did you not tell me?” I whispered. “Why did you not tell me you were leaving?”

  He looked down at the pistol as his fingers moved over the wooden stock. “I thought it would be easier if I simply faded from your life.”

  “Easier?” I gaped at him. “I might never have seen you again if Juliana hadn’t told me tonight. How would that have been easier?”

  “I did not mean easier for you,” he said shortly. “I can admit selfishness in this regard. I thought only of how to escape Millbury with the least amount of pain. Avoiding you was the best course I could find.”

  “You would leave without a word, after everything between us, even after—” I stopped, the words hovering on my tongue. But I was finished with any secrets between us, any unknowns. “Even after you kissed me.” My memories of that night swam through my head, thick and sweet like honey. His touch, his words, his warmth.

  His shoulders tensed as if awaiting a lashing. “You must know why I kissed you.”

  As if I could read his mind. He was maddening.

  “That is quite the assumption to make, as I certainly do not know why,” I insisted. “We both understood precisely what sort of arrangement we were entering into. You told me you had no interest in me or in marriage, and you knew—” My voice broke off, and I shook my head. “You knew about Edward.”

  “I thought I knew.” He scowled at the sky above us, now streaked with brilliant orange clouds, with darkness beginning to claim the eastern horizon.

  I shook my head. “You did not know we were engaged, but you knew enough. I have been blaming myself the past few days, but the fact remains that I was honest with you from the start. So I cannot fathom why you would be so determined to ruin our friendship when we both understood it could never be more than that.”

  He did not respond, still focused on the pistol in his hands. Then he bent and set the pistol on the rock. When he straightened, his neck was tight, his eyes blazing. “Do you think I planned this?” he asked, his voice rough. “Do you think I wanted to fall in love with someone who had already lost her heart to another man?”

  My chin tucked back, and I parted my mouth to speak, but he did not allow me a chance to respond.

  He stepped forward. “You are right, of course. I knew. I knew you thought yourself in love with him, but that did not matter because I had no
plans to marry. I had the navy, after all. I knew the life I wanted. But then”—he shook his head once, hard—“then everything changed. I cannot explain what happened, but you took hold of me. Your strength, your vivacity—it was like facing an oncoming storm and being unable to turn away. I did not want to turn away.”

  Every word he spoke burned inside me. I stood frozen, unable to move or breathe as he stopped just a step away from me.

  “So, yes,” he said, his voice jagged. “I blame you entirely. For being the only woman who could ever tempt me to give up a life at sea. For being everything I never knew I wanted. That is why I kissed you.”

  I tore my eyes from his and stared at the ground, as if blocking the intensity of his gaze would clear the haze in my mind. “You never said,” I whispered.

  “How could I?” His voice broke. “The next morning, Edward appeared on your doorstep and you were engaged. He was no longer a distant, faceless suitor. You’d already made your choice, except I had not known it.”

  He crossed his arms. “The day of the dinner party, I received a letter from a former captain of mine, telling me he planned to request me for an assignment. I drafted a letter immediately. I meant to turn it down, retire from that life.” He gave a short, humorless laugh. “I meant to propose.”

  Propose. He wanted to marry me. Or he had, anyway. My heart pounded hard—too hard. It hurt, banging about in my chest like a bucket in a well.

  He shook his head. “Now I have to leave. I’ve spoken with Olivia, and she understands that I cannot”—he grit his teeth—“that I cannot be here now. She told me to go, that she would be well with her friends and teachers. I took her to the school this afternoon, as I leave early tomorrow for Portsmouth. It will only be a few months this time, and when I return, we will begin again somewhere else.”

  “Somewhere else? But she’s just settled here.” I hardly knew why I was protesting. I was simply causing more pain, more problems. “You mustn’t leave because of me. I’ll soon be—” I stopped.