by JayneFresina
"Listen, Hart," Connolly added, lowering his voice and leaning both arms on the table, "I've got investors willing to put up a lot of money for this. It could be the greatest comeback this business has ever known. And you won't have to fight more than once. Just once more. I'll promote it till it's bigger than that ruddy Great Exhibition in '51. We'll be set for life." Then he shot Ever a look. "All of us. Since you're thinkin' of tying the knot with the lovely lady over here, surely a little extra in the bank won't go amiss. It's easy pickin's for you, Hart."
Gabriel's fingers touched the pen, and Ever saw nothing but disaster. It shot through her like a lightning strike. She picked up her cup and it slipped immediately from her fingers, crashing down onto the table, soaking the contract in hot coffee.
"Oh, dear!" she cried, standing at once.
Max Connolly jumped up, coffee staining his jacket sleeves and his waistcoat. He swore loudly, as the waiter hurried over to salvage the tablecloth.
"I am so sorry," Ever said softly. "How clumsy of me."
The print on the contract was now unreadable, the paper a soggy mess.
"Never mind," Gabriel assured her with a smile. "I wasn't going to sign it anyway."
But he had been about to; she was sure of it.
He could not resist the temptations set before him by Max Connolly. Thank goodness she was there to stop him, because nothing good could come of it. Was she the only soul there who saw that? She didn't want him hurt; she couldn't bear the thought.
Is that what this was all about, she wondered suddenly, looking at the man she loved. Had she been sent there to look after him, not as his governess, but like a guardian angel? She rather liked the thought of that.
Touching the seahorse pin on her collar, feeling the reassurance of that elegantly curled tail, she watched the fussing waiter and apologized again for making so much mess. She knew Max Connolly was staring at her. His anger was palpable. She didn't even have to read his thoughts to know what he felt in that moment. Fury, frustration. And pure hatred.
This wouldn't be the end of his attempts to get Gabriel back in the ring. So what? Let him try again. Ever Greene would be vigilant, at her lover's side, watching over him.
Gabriel took her hand. "Are you alright? You didn't get any coffee on your coat, did you?"
"No. I escaped, it seems. But luckily I'm wearing brown anyway." That was her mother's practicality coming out in her again, she mused. Astrid Greene believed that no moment was so stressful, no emergency so dire, as to warrant untidy garments.
She patted her brooch again and Gabriel's gaze travelled to it. He smiled, and she read the promise in his eyes. Later they would dance again with their tails entwined likes those seahorse couples that mated for life. Her body hummed with the anticipation.
He held his arm for her and she took it. "Sorry, Connolly," he said, over his shoulder, "but the offer isn't good enough for me. I've got something else to think about now, as you see."
As they walked from the hotel restaurant, she heard Max Connolly's furious thoughts following them.
Interfering little hussy. He'll be sorry. Putting his career aside for a damned woman. As if it has any chance of lasting beyond six months. Well, I can bide my time, missy. I'll be around still, long after you're gone.
Then she slammed the door in her mind with a hearty bang. Horrid man. He had made enough money out of her fiancé's blood and now he could go to hell.
But she soon had something else to worry about.
When they came out onto the steps of the hotel Mr. Blythe and his carriage were not waiting for them; instead there was a motor car.
Gabriel had, she learned, signed the papers on it yesterday while she was in the market.
* * * *
"It's a Rolls Royce V8," he said proudly. "Ain't it a beauty?"
The woman at his side was stiffly unimpressed. "Mrs. Palgrave will expire on the spot when she sees this."
"She don't 'ave to ride in it, does she?"
"Doesn't have to."
"Precisely." He ran a gloved hand over the shiny paintwork. "Only three of these machines have been made. Now I've got one of 'em."
Ever had paled a few shades. "You're not planning to ride back to Cromer in this...thing, are you?"
He grinned. "Of course. I can do twenty miles an hour in this lovely. That means we can be home this afternoon. A whole day earlier than we would with Blythe and the Brougham carriage. That's progress for you!"
"We? You mean for me to get into that thing and ride with you?"
He drew back, eyes wide. "Naturally. We're going to be married that means you have to do everything with me. Through sickness and sin."
"It's through sickness and in health. Nothing to do with sin."
"Well, that doesn't sound much like fun then."
"I told you, marriage is a solemn undertaking, not a lark. So, if you want to back out now—"
"Don't be daft." He chuckled and slid an arm around her waist. "You're mine. Now, don't be such a Sally Stick-in-the-mud. What happened to that brave Viking wench you promised me?"
But she was staring at his new acquisition and getting paler by the minute.
"You ain't going to pass out, are you?" he asked anxiously, tightening his grip around her waist. "You look right peaky."
He could hear her teeth grinding together and she closed her eyes.
"Ever?"
Finally she managed a soft squeak, "No. I'll be fine. It's just...that." She pointed. "The motor car."
"What about it?"
Her eyes shining with tears, she looked at him. "I'm going to be saving you from one thing or another every day, aren't I?"
Gabriel frowned, puzzled.
"I just saved you from Max Connolly's plans in there," she added grimly. She dug her hand into her coat pocket, drew out a handkerchief and briskly blew her nose, thrusting the teardrops back from whence they came. "Now this dreadful thing. But it will never end, will it? There will always be something you're ready to kill yourself over. I should have listened to Mrs. Palgrave. She tried to warn me the first day I came."
"I'm not going to kill myself! Where did you get that idea, Princess?"
"You are attracted to danger. Drawn to it like a magnet. You always want the new, shiny, fastest thing. And you're impulsive, reckless, unpredictable. Diving in headfirst."
She was right, of course. Gabriel was all those things, probably even worse than this woman had yet to realize. "But I'll be better now that I have you," he promised, one hand to his heart. "And it's only a motor car. It's just as safe as a horse and carriage. One day, everybody will have one."
"Will they?" Her lips moved rigidly and her gaze remained fixed on the Rolls Royce. "The roads will be dangerous places then. Distracted people, not looking. It won't be safe to cross a lane."
"Some perhaps. But most things are dangerous if they're not used properly," he replied jauntily. "Just takes a peck of caution, that's all."
She walked away from him to look at the front of the motor car and he let her go, so that she could take a minute to assess the situation, get her bearings and come to her senses. He knew she would; Ever Greene was the most sensible person he knew.
And there was nobody he would rather go riding with in a motor car.
"What about the snow?" she demanded, staring at the headlamps and testing the buttons of her coat with one fumbling hand, as if she feared the threads were coming loose.
"It will drive in the snow. We'll go slowly. Besides its only an inch or so and melting already. And you can have a blanket on your knees."
"Do I have to wear some of those driving goggles?"
"Now you're getting the idea! Yes. It's all part of the experience!"
More color drained out of her and her eyes briefly fluttered shut. "I don't have any choice, do I?"
Hands on his hips he laughed. "If you want Blythe to take you in the carriage he can. He has to take it home anyway."
"But you're going to...drive thi
s...in winter...this death-trap."
"Yes. I made up my mind the minute I saw it."
A great sigh oozed out of her. "Very well then. I can't let you go alone into this madness, can I?"
* * * *
The nausea completely swept away any chance she might have had of pretending to enjoy the trip back to Cromer. The churning began in her stomach as soon as she saw that car parked in front of the hotel steps and once they were rolling along, the wind streaking across her face, it only got worse. But Ever daren't show him how terrified she was. She had to keep up with him somehow, prove herself to be brave, unflinching in the face of horror. After surviving her childhood nightmares and the terrifying specter of Pumpymuckles she'd had practice.
Blinking through the goggles she looked out at the countryside which seemed to be moving far too fast. It was hard to catch her breath and her face had started to turn numb. Only Gabriel Hart would think that riding along at twenty miles an hour on a winter's day would be a good idea. Fun. Fun! And he was enjoying himself, clearly. He'd had to stop himself from whistling three times already and the smile seemed stuck on his face. Perhaps it was frozen there by the ice-cold wind, she mused darkly.
In truth, she'd been looking forward to a night at that cozy inn again outside Aylsham, the intimacy of the Brougham carriage, and whatever was left of Mrs. Fullerton's excellent Madeira cake. Now, it seemed, he was in haste to get home rather than take a nice, leisurely pace in her company. There was no eating cake as they hurtled along at this speed. No cuddling and no conversation. They could barely hear each other above the engine.
They sail'd away in a sieve, they did,
In a sieve they sail'd so fast,
with only a beautiful pea-green veil
tied with a ribbon, by way of a sail,
to a small tobacco-pipe mast.
And everyone said who saw them go,
"Oh, won't they soon be upset, you know;
for the sky is dark, and the voyage is long;
And, happen what may, it's extremely wrong
in a sieve to sail so fast."
Well, you wanted adventure, Miss E. Greene.
But how could this dashing along possibly be enjoyable for anybody? Mrs. Palgrave was right; Gabriel Hart was in too much hurry to get places. Couldn't even take pleasure in the scenery at this rude pace.
She realized that she'd been gripping her hands so tightly into fists inside her fur muff that her fingernails might wear through the leather of her gloves like crescent moon blades on the ends of her fingers.
But Gabriel wouldn't know. She was determined to get through this, even though the smell of the engine made her feel ill and there was a pain in her chest, a crushing weight pressing in on her. The noise was horrendous.
It would soon be over, she kept telling herself. They would soon be in Cromer. Or dead. One way or the other it would soon be over. It shouldn't take much more than an hour to travel the distance, he'd said. And he did not slow down, despite the snow which had begun to fall again.
From now on her life— for as long as it lasted— would be like this every day, so she may as well get accustomed to the sensation of having the floor torn away from under her feet. She'd agreed to marry him. So this is how it would be. She knew what she was getting herself into when she gave herself to him and there was no going back now.
No going back.
Lucretzia Brunetti had warned her.
Ha! Lucretzia who was apparently in league with Max Connolly to get Gabriel back in the boxing ring. In light of this discovery, nothing that woman had said should be taken with anything other than the largest pinch of salt.
Besides, Gabriel was hers now. Soon to be her husband. She would look after him. Comforted by that thought, she slid closer to the driver and carefully slipped her arm under his. He turned and looked at her.
"Eyes on the road!" she yelled.
He laughed and looked forward again. Taking a painful breath, Ever rested her head on his shoulder and tried her best to relax. Or at least to look as if the charging speed of this fiery beast didn't scare her half to death.
If he meant to elicit another scream out of her, he'd be disappointed.
At least, if they met their demise on this road— which seemed more than likely— they would be together. Pity that hadn't had many days, but the fact that they'd had any at all was probably a miracle of coincidences and they ought to be grateful for that much.
Thank goodness they'd had last night, she thought, gritting her teeth as he put his foot down to go even faster. Maniac. She was marrying a maniac.
If they ever made it to the altar in one piece it would be a miracle greater than the one that brought them together in the first place.
Chapter Fifteen
Despite her expectations and his driving, they did not die in a tragic accident on the road back to Cromer that day. Having hurtled along at bone-grinding, tooth-rattling speed, passing more than a few startled cows, horses and angry farmers, they arrived home in the late afternoon, just as the sky began to darken and the snow began to fall in earnest. Once her feet were on solid ground again, her ankles threatened to let her down by folding under the weight of her body, but somehow she made it into the house without stumbling and embarrassing herself.
While Gabriel took the car round to the mews where it was to be parked in an old hay-cart stall, Ever went down to the servants' entrance and met Mrs. Palgrave there.
"The day has come then," the housekeeper cried. "I knew it! I heard the wretched thing coming a mile off! What can he be thinking? No, don't answer that." She put up her hand. "I know, he's not thinking at all. Look at you, poor, dear girl! You look all in. Come and sit down by the fire. I shall have a few terse words with Mr. Hart about this. Dragging you along in that wretched beast."
Her bones still felt the vibrations of their journey and the last thing she wanted to do was sit down, for fear of never being able to stand again. No, the feeling was coming back to her ankles now and she was better off standing, but as Ever wiped the grime from her face with a handkerchief, she admitted that a cup of tea would be most welcome.
The other staff gathered around to hear the story of Mr. Hart's new acquisition and even Mr. Bede came out of his pantry to hear the news. William the footman was only partially interested, because he had, so he said, ridden in a motor car himself once, although Kitty chirped up that he had only ridden on the front of it when it nearly ran him over on the esplanade. While they were all laughing at this, it occurred to Ever that none of them yet knew about her engagement to the master of the house. They had only just become accustomed to her presence there; what on earth would they think of her marrying Mr. Hart? She was in no fit state to make an announcement and, really, he should probably tell them himself.
It would likely be as big a shock as the acquisition of a motor car.
"Ooh, that's a lovely pin, Miss Greene," Kitty exclaimed when she spied the seahorse on Ever's collar.
"Yes." She ran her fingers over its reassuring shape. "Isn't it?"
"I ain't seen that before."
"It's very special. A gift from...someone." But she happened to catch Mrs. Palgrave's eye just then. And her mind.
He gave it to her. Must have. Same creature as that paperweight on his desk. So that's that then. I knew he'd soon have her wrapped around his finger. Poor girl.
Ever flushed and looked down at the seahorse. Had she let the festive streets of Norwich, lobster, champagne and grand hotel rooms go to her head? Now they were back home and she wondered...
Suddenly the master of the house came galloping down the stairs from above, still in his coat and gloves. "Ever! Where the devil did you go? Come here. I need you."
Everybody went respectfully silent, standing to attention. But she felt the shock waves ricochet around that kitchen, not only because he had called her by her first name. The way he looked at her was possessive, intense, and not the way a man should look at a servant in his employ. In actual fa
ct, he should hardly notice her at all. This was, of course, not the first time he'd come down to the servants' hall, seeking her out. Each time it was more dramatic, noisier, less formal.
Eventually he would probably just yell down those stairs that he was coming to get her if she didn't jump to it. As if they played a game of hide and seek.
She stared at him, her tongue frozen, unable to flex itself.
Abruptly Mr. Bede said, "Miss Greene was just telling us about your motor car, sir. It was most interesting."
Ever was intensely grateful to the butler for breaking the dreadful silence that had surrounded her. Gabriel, still standing on the stairs and leaning over the banister, laughed at Mrs. Palgrave's pinched face and happily embarked on the story of his acquisition— how the opportunity came about and what a pleasure it was to drive speedily through the countryside. How many miles per hour they'd traveled and how much horsepower the engine possessed. All things that meant nothing to Ever who would much rather move under her own steam.
"Well, Miss Greene is certainly brave," the housekeeper remarked curtly. "I'll give her that."
"Yes, she is." He beamed across at Ever. "Because she's going to m—"
"You needed me, sir?" She quickly stepped forward, holding her coat over one arm.
A line deepened between his brows and then he laughed. "Yes, I do. Come and help me get these bloody boots off. It was your idea for me to wear the blasted things."
Thus she prevented him from breaking the news. For now, at least. She wasn't ready. Not yet.
"You'll come down for your dinner later, my dear?" Mrs. Palgrave asked softly.
"Yes, I will."
"Good. I'd like to hear more about your journey." Was that the twinkle of amusement in the housekeeper's usually stern eye? "I'm sure it was quite an adventure. And now that I get a another look at you, I can see it put the color back in your cheeks. Better than Mrs. Fullerton's game pie." Then her lips gathered together again and she shook her head.
Young girls these days! What is the world coming to?
