by Darcy Burke
“Fanny?” West’s question drew her from the pit of her thoughts.
“Yes?”
He laughed softly. “I asked if you were ready to leave.”
“I am, thank you.” She turned and started across the creaking wood floor.
“You seem rather distracted,” he said, walking alongside her. “Ivy said you might be.”
Ivy had stayed home with Leah, who hadn’t wanted to take her nap. They feared another tooth might be coming. “She told you about what happened?” Fanny asked. She expected Ivy would have since she and West told each other everything.
“About St. Ives courting Miss Stoke?”
It was a bit more than courting—he’d promised to marry her. However, Fanny didn’t correct him. Courting was just as bad.
She could practically hear her mother’s voice: “You’ve no reason to be angry. He didn’t promise you anything.” But he’d kissed her! And Mother would say that was her fault, not his.
“His father and her father wanted to unite their families. His lordship promised to marry her.”
“Then why the devil was he calling on you?” West’s question held a note of irritation, and while it made her feel good to have another ally, it wasn’t as if he could do anything about it.
“If I knew that, I might not want to kick him in the—” She snapped her lips shut.
West laughed and patted her shoulder. “That’s our girl. Don’t think I will let this pass. I’ll look for him at the club later.”
They stepped out into the gray sunlight. The day was thick with clouds, but still remarkably bright. Fanny blinked after coming from the dim interior. “I feel much better being outside. That property won’t suffice.”
“I don’t think so either.” He guided her to his coach, which waited for them on the street.
“West, I’d rather you didn’t speak to Dav—St. Ives about this business. He’s free to do what he likes or feels he must.”
Offering her his hand, West helped her up into the coach. “You are an understanding and generous young woman.”
She settled herself on the seat. “What else should I be?”
He climbed in and sat down beside her. “Whatever you like.” He gave her a warm smile. “Truly, Fanny. Your sister and I only want you to be happy, and we’ll do whatever we can to help you. You shall always have a home with us.”
She knew that, just as she knew she was incredibly fortunate to enjoy a freedom most young women didn’t have. She thought of Sarah, whose parents were eager to see her wed at the earliest possible moment. Fanny’s parents were the same, but Fanny didn’t have to rely on them for anything, so their preferences didn’t matter even a whit. Especially not after the way they’d turned their backs on Ivy.
They drove home, and, after checking in on Ivy and Leah, Fanny decided to take a walk to the park. Her maid accompanied her, and the thick morning clouds burned mostly away as afternoon came upon them.
“I want to walk down to the water,” Fanny said. Most people enjoyed Hyde Park at the height of the fashionable hour when the paths were clogged with Society, but Fanny liked having the space to herself. Or mostly, anyway. There were people about, but they weren’t there for the purpose of being seen.
“Are you sure you want to risk it?” Barker asked with a wry smile.
Fanny grinned, almost always able to laugh at her clumsiness. “I am feeling particularly bold today.”
“Well, I am feeling particularly warm,” Barker said. “I hope there’s a bench in the shade.”
“There are several. We’ll take a respite before we turn back.”
The call of a bird drew Fanny’s attention to a tree a few feet ahead along the path. She searched the foliage for the source but couldn’t see it, nor was she certain what sort of bird made that call. She’d learned a few in the months since she’d taken to studying birds. Since she’d met David.
Would she continue to watch and learn about them now, or would they just remind her, frustratingly, of David? As they moved next to the tree, a chaffinch flew out from the branches, ascending above them.
They continued to the Serpentine, and Barker immediately found a bench set beneath the dappled shade of an oak tree. Fanny was about to sit beside her when she caught sight of a pair of birds on the water. They were elegant with a black tuft of feathers on top of their heads and bright amber coloring on the sides of their faces. The fronts of their long necks and their bellies were snowy white, while their back feathers were a mix of black and brown with hints of amber.
But it was their activity that caught Fanny’s eye. They faced each other, their heads flicking from side to side, with a fan of feathers around their faces that reminded her of a lion’s mane. Their feathered fans opened as their heads moved in what looked to be some sort of communication. She was absolutely fascinated and found herself pulled to the water’s edge.
“Careful there.”
The deep, masculine voice was familiar. She turned her head to see David standing a few feet to her left. “I’m not going to fall in again. Anyway, that was your fault.”
“So it was.” He bowed deeply, and she refused to be moved by his demeanor. Instead, she turned her attention back to the beautiful birds.
“Those are great crested grebes.” He’d moved closer. She could see him from the corner of her eye but kept her attention on the birds. It wasn’t difficult. Their dance, for that was what it looked like to her—if birds could dance—was utterly captivating.
“Have you any idea what they’re doing?” she asked, thinking he must.
“That’s their mating ritual. Do you see how they’re moving closer and closer together?”
She did. “And why do they keep pecking at their feathers?” Every so often, they’d dip their heads back and flick their beaks into their back feathers before coming back up and resuming the headshaking from side to side.
“It’s part of their dance.”
She smiled now, since he’d used the word she’d been thinking. “I think they’re better dancers than me.”
He laughed. “They don’t have to worry about intricate steps or patterns. Or feet.”
She glanced at him, still smiling. “I don’t know. That business out there looks rather complicated to me. For all we know, there’s a sequence to those head flicks and beak dips.”
“There could very well be. I haven’t ever written down the specifics.” He cocked his head to the side as he studied the birds. “I think I shall have to do that.”
Suddenly, one of the grebes ducked its head beneath the water.
Fanny started. “Oh dear, what does that mean?”
“Just watch.”
She heard the anticipation in his voice. A moment later, the bird resurfaced very close to the other one with a mouthful of greenery from the lake. Fanny brought her hand to her mouth and laughed. “Is that supposed to be a bouquet of flowers?”
“An apt description, I think.” He pointed toward the water. “There goes the other one.”
As he said that, the second bird ducked beneath the water but came back up more quickly. She—or he; why couldn’t the female have gone first?—offered a beakful of watery foliage. The birds now touched at the neck and rose up out of the water, their breasts pushed out. They remained thus for several moments, seemingly basking in the joy of their mutual offerings.
“It’s lovely,” Fanny breathed.
“Not as lovely as you.”
Fanny turned her head toward David, but he wasn’t watching the birds. He was staring at her. She was instantly reminded that he’d promised to wed someone else and ought not be looking at her like that or saying such things to her.
She looked back to the water, but the show was over. The birds were swimming away—together. She turned from the lake. “Their dance is finished. And so is ours, I think.”
“Fanny, I am so very sorry about yesterday.”
She pivoted to face him. “Just about yesterday?”
“No
, about all of it. I should have told you about Miss Stoke.”
“Why? What you should have done was not kiss me or lead me to believe there might be a courtship. I thought we were well on our way.”
“I thought so too.” He took a step toward her. “When I met you at Christmastide, it was the first light I’d seen in the darkness after my father’s death. I reveled in that encounter, even though it was brief. In fact, I relied on the memory of it for some time to lift my spirits. I never should have kissed you then, but the moment was so perfect, and it had just felt…right.”
She’d felt exactly the same way. “I have never regretted it, and I still don’t.” Despite what she’d just said about what they shouldn’t have done.
“Then when I met you again in London, I was thrilled to see you again and to know that you weren’t actually a housemaid.”
It would be easy to be drawn in by his heartfelt words—and she was certain he was being honest. But she couldn’t do that. “And that is where I grow confused. You knew you’d made a promise to Miss Stoke, and yet you flirted with me, called on me, kissed me…” She pressed her lips together. She didn’t want to become angry.
The edge of his mouth lifted. “I did all those things, and I can’t apologize enough. It’s not fair to you to say I was swept away, that you beguiled me completely. I should have ignored my burgeoning feelings—at least until I determined if Miss Stoke and I would suit.”
She tried not to dwell on what he said about feelings. “Do you plan to find out?”
His face creased, and she detected anguish in the fine lines around his eyes and mouth. “I think I must.”
“You did promise.” And she knew how deeply he missed his father, how important he’d been. “Your father would want you to.” How she wished she had that sort of relationship with a parent. She did, however, with another family member—Ivy. If Ivy had asked her to do something, she’d do it without hesitation.
Fanny took a step so that they nearly touched. “You should see if you will suit. Miss Stoke seems quite charming. Perhaps it will all work out.”
His jaw tightened, and his gray eyes darkened to steel. “You are far too kind and understanding. Fanny, you are a singular woman.” His voice was thick with some emotion she refused to ascertain.
“Family is important, especially the ties to those who love and support us as no one else ever could.” She offered him a smile, though it had to have been tinged with the sadness she felt in her heart. “I came to care deeply for you, and I truly want you to find happiness.”
“No more than I want that for you.” He took his hat off and leaned slightly toward her. “And if Miss Stoke and I don’t suit—”
She lightly touched his chest, then jerked her hand away. She couldn’t touch him. Standing this close, she wanted to do that and more. It took great effort not to look at his mouth and wish it were against hers. “I won’t wait for you, David.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to.” He sounded sad. Resigned.
Good. She felt the same.
It was a thoroughly depressing moment. Right until a bird—fittingly—shat directly on David’s head.
Chapter 8
Though David had said he would make the effort to get to know Miss Stoke, he wasn’t looking forward to it. Which wasn’t at all fair to her. He had to at least try.
And so he found himself at the Findlay ball looking for her and trying not to think about his encounter with Fanny that afternoon. He smiled thinking of their laughter over the grebes’ mating dance. But the smile faded as he recalled how it had ended—with them going their separate ways, toward different futures.
He caught sight of Miss Stoke standing with her mother and made his way in their direction. He didn’t particularly want to dance, given his difficulty in mastering the steps, but since she enjoyed it, he’d ask.
She was delighted to see him and eager to dance the cotillion, at which he—mostly—succeeded. When the music finished, he offered his arm and escorted her from the floor. The touch of her hand on his sleeve didn’t ignite anything within him, not like how his body came alive when Fanny did the same thing.
Instead of leading Miss Stoke back to her mother, he escorted her in the opposite direction. “Would you mind if we promenaded around the ballroom before I return you to your mother?”
“Not at all. I’d be delighted to spend more time with you.” She sounded so pleased, so eager.
Which only made him feel like a dastardly prick. “Miss Stoke, I think it’s only fair for me to tell you that I don’t know if I can keep the promise my father made to yours.”
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “Is it something I’ve done?” she asked, tipping her head up to look at him. She was quite petite compared to Fanny. Hell, would he always compare them?
“Of course not,” he said. “We’ve barely spent time together.”
Her features softened into a smile. “Yes, and we need to rectify that.”
They could, but David suspected it wouldn’t change his mind. Or his feelings. Particularly the ones he had for Fanny, not her.
She continued before he could speak again. “I do think it’s good that we not rush into anything, but take our time to know each other—our minds and our hearts.”
Time. He wasn’t sure a lifetime would be enough—not to find love with her or to fall out of it with Fanny. Wait, did he love Fanny? He wasn’t sure, but he knew that contemplating the future without her made him ache with emptiness.
Suddenly, he saw her. He could pick her red-gold hair and tall, willowy frame out of the thickest crowd. She stood near the wall with Miss Colton and another young woman. Fanny’s head turned, and their eyes connected. The room grew quiet for that brief moment while he imagined it was just the two of them.
The press of Miss Stoke’s hand on his arm pulled him from the reverie. He spoke without thinking. “I believe I have feelings for someone else.”
Miss Stoke slowed, her hand digging into his sleeve. “Is it Miss Snowden?”
Had she just seen them looking at each other? David kept himself from glancing in Fanny’s direction. “I would rather not say. I’m sure you understand.”
“Not really.” Her voice held a slight edge.
His gaze snapped to hers. The green irises of her eyes darkened to the color of something buried deep in a thick forest.
“I understand you promised your father that you’d marry me,” she said. “And now you’re reneging on that vow.”
The only way she could know that he’d promised his father was if his mother had told her. He was going to have a pointed conversation with her about not disclosing private information.
“I don’t know what you heard, but whatever promises were made—or not—are between me and my family.”
She visibly swallowed but didn’t take her gaze from his. “I didn’t mean to overstep. It’s just—” Now her gaze wavered, moving briefly to the side before finding his once more. “Couldn’t you at least try to get to know me?”
Bloody hell. She sounded so small and sad, and he felt like the biggest scoundrel. “Miss Stoke, it’s nothing to do with you, truly. It’s simply that I met someone else, and I am afraid I may not be able to put the feelings I have for her aside. That would not be fair to you.”
“I think marriages have been made in the face of worse,” she said quietly.
Perhaps, but that wasn’t a marriage he wanted. “Let me escort you back to your mother. I am deeply sorry.”
“I think you’ll be sorrier than you could know,” she said without heat. “I will hope you change your mind.”
If she wanted to hold out hope for him, he likely couldn’t dissuade her from it. She seemed rather…dogged in her determination that they be together.
They arrived at her mother, who smiled brightly upon seeing them. Then she saw her daughter’s downcast expression, and her face puckered with concern. “Is everything all right?”
Miss Stoke took her hand from his ar
m. “Lord St. Ives has decided not to pursue any sort of courtship.”
David worked to keep his jaw from dropping. She wanted to have this conversation here?
Mrs. Stoke’s mouth tightened. “I’m certain he’ll change his mind. Talk to your mother, my lord. She’ll convince you of the rightness of the union—you and Arabella are perfect for one another. Did you know that swans are her favorite animal? She’s keen to learn all you have to teach her about fowl.” Mrs. Stoke forced another smile, but her eyes, a green-gray, were hard as stone.
There was no point in further debate with either woman. Instead, he bowed to them. “Have a pleasant evening.”
He turned, eager to quit the ballroom as quickly as possible. He saw Fanny again—near her sister this time, but didn’t dare go to her. There would be time to tell her that he wished to court her, that he couldn’t imagine a future without her.
Tomorrow.
On his way to the exit, a man fell into him, sending him off balance.
“You’ll meet me at dawn, Royston!” a second man called to the man who was just straightening himself.
Both gentlemen were young bucks—one dark and one fair. The dark-haired one had issued the challenge. David recalled Ware speaking of this the other night at the club.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Hornsby,” the fair-haired gentleman said. His collar was impossibly high and stiff, his cravat the most intricately tied David had ever seen. “There’s no need to risk your life over your sister’s foolish infatuation. It’s not my fault I don’t find her attractive.”
The ballroom fell almost completely silent as people gathered around the two men. A wide circle formed, and David hoped they wouldn’t come to blows. Other than the pushing that had apparently occurred when Royston had crashed into him.
Hornsby sneered as he advanced on the taller man. “You dare insult her? And in front of an audience?”
Royston clucked his tongue, his eyes narrowing. “I’m not the one who instigated this scene.”
“You started this when you were rude to my sister. You don’t give a lady false hope and then turn your back on her.”
