The Lady Is Daring

by Megan Frampton

  Lady Ida. Had she spent all morning thinking about him as well?

  He nodded, stepping quickly into the room.

  It was surprisingly cozy, with rugs scattered on the floor in front of the fireplace and the sofa. A well-worn desk was at one end, while a bookcase that appeared to house both adult and children’s books was in the other corner.

  She stood in the middle of the room, clasping her hands in front of her, her expression nearly blinding in its joy. So it was unlikely she’d been thinking about him after all. He shouldn’t be disappointed, and yet he had to admit wishing she were slightly less happy.

  “You’re back.” He saw her swallow, and he braced himself for whatever she was about to say. “She and Nora will come with us. And Mrs. Wattings and Emily.”

  “Everyone is coming to London?” So her mission would be fulfilled. And his adventure would be over. He sat down heavily. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you were able to convince her, I know how insistent you can be, but I have to admit to being surprised in this case.”

  Ida’s expression was almost bashful. As though she was pleased by the compliment, but not quite sure how to react. “I told her that if she didn’t return that I would be entirely compromised.” She lifted her chin as she took a deep breath. “That if we returned alone there was no way for us to avoid marriage. I know neither of us wants that.” She lifted her chin again as though to dare him to challenge her statement. Did she want him to?

  “You are certain about that?” he asked, getting up but not allowing himself to go to her, to take her in his arms as he wished to. This had to be entirely her choice. He wouldn’t do her the disservice of arguing with her. She deserved that respect.

  She nodded. “I am.” She walked to him, slid her hands under his coat to draw him close. He breathed in the scent of her hair, felt the warmth of her body.

  He was going to have to give all of this up? It hurt already.

  She spoke in a voice that resonated with emotion. “I have enjoyed spending time with you, far more than I anticipated. But I am not for you, and you are not for me. We both know you require a certain type of lady, and I will not, nor would I ever be, that person.”

  His chest tightened, and he swallowed hard against the words that clogged his throat—what if you could change, what if I could change, can’t you at least try?—because he knew what his family and his situation demanded, and he knew she was right.

  Damn it, she was always right. And was right for herself, as well.

  She would be miserable if she tried to change for him, and he couldn’t allow her to do that. Never mind she’d likely refuse anyway.

  So instead of speaking he lowered his head and kissed her. Softly, tenderly, as though this was the last time their lips would meet.

  Likely it was.

  Dear god, this hurt. But not as much as it would hurt if he had to watch as she shrank into someone she was not, merely to fit in. The Ida he loved would become diminished, day by day, until she was just a shell of her previous self.

  He heard her make a small noise, and he held her, breaking the kiss as he rested his chin on her head. She held him tightly, pressing her face into his chest. “I wish it could be any other way, I do. But I have obligations to my family, and so do you.”

  She exhaled. “Besides which, I cannot be the soft and gentle wife you want. The soft and gentle wife you need in your life.”

  He couldn’t speak. The woman he loved, whom he was fairly certain loved him, was being sensible about their future, was refusing to compromise. He wouldn’t want an Ida who was willing to compromise—that wasn’t her, that wouldn’t be the woman he loved.

  So this was it.

  This was their good-bye.

  “Thank you,” he said in a soft voice.

  “For what?” she asked, raising her head to look him in the eye. She arched a brow, clearly trying to lighten the moment. “There are so many things you could be thanking me for.”

  “And you me,” he retorted smugly, liking how her cheeks colored at the recollection—of his bringing her pleasure, of their shared intimacy.

  “But I am thanking you for ensuring both of us are free to choose,” he said in a serious tone of voice, “and for reminding me that you are the strongest, bravest, most intelligent woman I know.”

  “Oh,” she replied in a low voice. “Thank you.”

  Ida hadn’t expected a broken heart to feel so . . . broken. She walked upstairs, her pace slow, her thoughts churning. He respected her too much to argue with her, that was obvious.

  Although she had to admit to wishing that he had argued, that he had told her how he felt about her.

  Would she have changed her mind?

  She knew she’d be tempted. To spend the rest of her life with him, in his bed, having their children. Especially after seeing firsthand what it would be like to converse with a curious child.

  But she knew it wasn’t possible, not the way they both saw their futures. He would return to being the responsible member of his family, and she would forge her own path, refusing to submit to anyone else’s plans.

  Besides which, even if she had agreed, she knew herself too well to think she would have been able to be the wife he needed. Eventually she would make her opinion of someone or something known, ruining his chance of success in one area or another. Perhaps all the areas, given how forthright she was.

  And then she would destroy what he was trying to do. The good he was trying to create.

  She couldn’t live with that possibility, no matter how much she loved him. She understood duty and honor and responsibility so much more now, thanks to him. She knew it was her duty to keep his future clear and direct.

  She wouldn’t want him to have to monitor her words to make certain she wasn’t going to offend anyone. He’d be kind, and diplomatic as he told her why she couldn’t or shouldn’t say something. But it would fray their relationship, and she wanted an equal partner, not a manager.

  It didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, though.

  She began to turn the handle on the door to her bedroom when she heard a voice in the hallway.

  “Lady Ida?”

  Ida shifted to see who it was. She knew it wasn’t him, and that was all her brain could process.

  “Della asked me about returning to London.”

  It was Mrs. Wattings, who stood halfway down the hall, wearing a gown in a serviceable color that nonetheless managed to make her look elegant.

  The woman was beautiful; only perhaps as old as Della, with wide dark eyes that looked almost haunted. But she had a tentative smile on her face, and Ida couldn’t help but warm to her. Not to mention how she’d come to live in Haltwhistle, of all out-of-the-way places. And found, apparently, a best friend in her sister.

  Ida was struck by Mrs. Wattings’s words. “I didn’t realize you had lived there before. Della didn’t mention that. Or perhaps she had, but I hadn’t expected someone like you.”

  The woman nodded as she spoke. “I can imagine someone like me is not who you’d expect to find with your sister.”

  Ida opened the door to the bedroom and gestured for Mrs. Wattings to step inside.

  “But we got to talking,” Mrs. Wattings continued, “and found we had so much in common. It wasn’t possible to stay in my current lodgings, so when Della asked if we could share this house, I jumped at the chance.” She smiled at the memory.

  Ida sat on the edge of the bed as Mrs. Wattings lowered herself into a chair to the right of the door.

  “Oh, but you were asking about London.” Mrs. Wattings got a faraway look in her eyes. “Yes, I was there before Emily was born. I met my husband there.” A sad look crossed her face, perhaps explaining Mrs. Wattings’s haunted expression. “He brought me here before going out to sea again.”

  “Ah,” Ida replied. She wouldn’t pry, but she was desperate—as she always was—to know what had happened.

  Was her husband lost? Had he left? How long had he been gone? Was Mr
s. Wattings still holding out hope for his return, or had she accepted what might have happened?

  Yes, she was distracting herself with someone else’s story. But it was better than sobbing on the bed again.

  “I have family there, but it’s not family I particularly wish to see.” Which only made Ida more desperate to know more. Curiousulus nasus, indeed. “But Della spoke to me about going back, and giving your family the chance to know Nora. And I thought my family should at least meet Emily. Even if they don’t wish to have us in their lives.”

  “Won’t that be painful for you?”

  Ida heard the woman swallow before she answered. “Yes. But Della and I have become a family here, so Emily will never be without love. And my younger brother—he was too young when I left to understand the choice I had to make. I want to give him the chance to make the choice again, to let us in his life. Della says she will work on finding Sam. My husband.”

  Ida bit her tongue to keep from asking more questions. It was enough, sometimes, for people to talk to her. She didn’t always have to be demanding information. That was another thing the past week or so had taught her—she should listen as well as speak.

  No matter how many questions she wanted to ask, or how much advice she wanted to give.

  Mrs. Wattings shook her head. “I don’t know why I am telling you all this, except to say I understand how important family is, and that is why I know it is important for Della to go back. And for us to return as well. That you and your friend can provide the means for us to do it makes it impossible to refuse. So thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” That was the second time in less than an hour that Ida had been thanked, and she didn’t think she had ever had that happen before.

  Even if one of the thankers was thanking her for not marrying him. She would perhaps not dwell on that too much.

  “Well, we should be able to depart in a few days, provided Lord Carson can make the necessary arrangements.”

  And then the adventure would be over.

  Chapter 16

  Sometimes the adventure begins at home.

  Lady Ida’s Tips for the Adventurous Lady Traveler

  Of course Bennett—or Lord Carson, she should be calling him now—had been able to find money, a carriage, a coachman, reasonable horses, and all the supplies they’d need for the journey back to London within only a few days.

  Ida had dried off by then, and had borrowed some of Mrs. Wattings’s clothing, since she and Ida were closer in size. She wore one of the gowns in the carriage, a simply elegant garment in a soft green color. Bennett had bought a suit from the small clothier that stopped in Haltwhistle once a week, so he had something besides his sodden travel garb to wear.

  The suit wasn’t what she was accustomed to seeing him in; it was very plain, a dark brown that was simply cut and fit more loosely than his London clothing.

  But he looked more dangerous in it, somehow. As though the suit’s practicality meant he would be ready at an instant to go do something terribly masculine and important, hopefully working up a sweat in the process.

  Or perhaps that was her own wish.

  Nora and Emily were beyond thrilled to be going to London, so most of the first part of the journey was the adults answering all the questions about what the girls would see.

  No, there were not elephants roaming the streets, but there might be a zoo; yes, it was usual to see people walking about at all times of the day, but the girls would be safely abed in the nighttime; and, yes, there were shops where anybody could purchase ices, a treat that was promised as soon as they were settled into Eleanor’s household.

  Ida was grateful for their nonstop talk, not just because the children were so refreshing in their curiosity and the interesting perspective they brought. Their talk also meant she wasn’t sitting in the carriage seat constantly thinking about Bennett, and about how miserable and lonely the life she’d chosen for herself was going to be.

  “I know your sister Olivia works with a school that helps poor children,” she heard Bennett say, speaking to Della. The children’s chatter had subsided long enough for Ida to hear the conversation. “They just got a sizeable donation from my friend Edward, Olivia’s husband, so they might be looking for new teachers, if either of you two wishes to find work in London.”

  He was suggesting a duke’s daughter go to work. He had truly changed, if he were suggesting anything so revolutionary.

  Dear lord, but she loved him.

  Della’s face lit up, and she glanced at Mrs. Wattings. “That could be something we would be very good at, and it would mean we could set up our own establishment. We would be free to make our own decisions.”

  Just as she and Bennett were. It was unfortunate that their decision hurt so much.

  “You’re getting ahead of yourself,” her friend replied dryly. “As always. You know you have a tendency to just forge ahead without thinking about the particulars of the thing too much.”

  “Oh, like when I ran off with Mr. Baxter?” Ida’s eyes widened at Della’s blithe tone, and she caught herself before she glanced at Bennett to gauge his reaction.

  She had to get accustomed to relying only on herself again. It had been a delightful interlude when she could share a joke or swap some teasing moments, but it was just that. An interlude.

  She had her obligations, and he had his. She knew that, and yet she longed for so much more.

  And even if she could somehow figure out how to navigate her obligations and be with him—would he even want to? Would he be able to spare the time for her? Would he be constantly worried that she would embarrass him somehow? Or that he’d long for someone soft and welcoming after all?

  It wasn’t tenable. It wasn’t.

  And he knew that as well, which was why they had said good-bye long before they’d all clambered into this carriage.

  But it didn’t hurt any less.

  It was agony sitting in a carriage with her. Agony and delight, intermingled. Agony that he couldn’t spar with her, note her prickly ways, look at her lovely face. Be the recipient of that breathtaking smile.

  Delight that he could spend any time at all with her, given that soon their only meetings would be formal ones. In public, likely with all of Society watching them.

  If she survived the scandal, that is.

  He watched her out of the corner of his eye, noting how attentive she was to her sister, Mrs. Wattings, and the girls. How she asked questions, and probed further to find out information that would be useful when they arrived in London. How she listened thoughtfully when they replied.

  She didn’t want to reveal it, but she loved her sisters deeply. Of course, that was why she had embarked on this improbable journey in the first place. But he guessed she would be mortified to know someone else had observed just how deeply she felt.

  But he had. And he knew, if it were at all possible, that she would love him with an equal depth.

  That tore him apart in its delicious agony, knowing he would never find anyone who sparked his imagination and inspired his passion as much as she.

  They’d both been clear, however, that their respective obligations meant that they had no future.

  He darted a quick, sidelong glance toward her. She was looking out the window, but her gaze was unfocused, and he imagined that, like him, she was thinking about what had happened, and what could never be possible.

  If only—if only.

  But then he wouldn’t be Lord Carson, Champion of the Needy, Provider for the Family.

  If that weight were even lifted a tiny bit, just imagine what he could do. What they could do together.

  It didn’t bear thinking about, and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about it all. About her, about their time together, about how she made him feel.

  Was this what love felt like?

  He wouldn’t wish this feeling on his worst enemy.

  And yet he couldn’t begrudge the feeling, because it meant he had gotten to know and to love h
er.

  Delicious agony. Agonized delight.

  No matter how he phrased it, it hurt, and he never wanted to stop feeling it. All of it.

  Chapter 17

  Adventure isn’t always wonderful.

  Lady Ida’s Tips for the Adventurous Lady Traveler

  The return trip to London was a lot less exciting than the original trip.

  Which is to say it was not filled with kisses, banter, and, yes, buckets of rain.

  Although there were a lot more questions—about the future, about the town, about everything the children could think of.

  It must be exhausting to be a parent, Ida thought, even though she knew the benefits outweighed the fatigue.

  Still, though, it was with profound relief, therefore, when the carriage finally rolled to a stop in front of Ida’s parents’ house. Even though her parents’ house would, inevitably, contain her parents.

  “You’re certain you can just return and it will be fine?” Della asked in a skeptical tone.

  “Mother will be too delighted at the prospect of—well, you know,” Ida said, not wanting to say the words marriage and Lord Carson in proximity to one another for fear she’d burst into tears. “I’ll have at least a few days before she realizes the truth.”

  “And you’ll come find me when it happens?” Della said doggedly.

  They’d been over and over it on the journey home. Della, Mrs. Wattings, and their children would stay at Eleanor’s house until the ladies had found suitable lodgings for themselves. Lord Carson, meanwhile, would speak to the Society for Poor and Orphaned Children, of which he was a trustee. He was confident he could persuade them to take on two additional instructors, and he had told Della and Mrs. Wattings quite firmly that he would be paying their salary if the Society were not able to.

  If it came to the point where the duchess refused to allow Ida to continue living in the house—not that Ida cared much one way or the other—she would go live with the ladies until she could figure out where she and her books could go live permanently. Perhaps she’d stay with Della; maybe she would set off on her own to find a library home of her own.