“There will be no ices this week or next.” It was a weak declaration, but she loved their Saturday ices. Her eyes flashed, and he was glad to have at least come up with something—though unequal to what she’d done—that would be a punishment.
“Then I will not go out with you on Saturday at all!”
“That is your choice,” he said. “The dresses we ordered last week will be put on hold until you apologize to Miss Wilton.”
She rolled her eyes. “All right, then, I am sorry.”
“A written apology in your own hand.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Who wrote the letter delivered to Mrs. Henry?” Whoever it was knew the secret too, a secret that could destroy Miss Wilton.
Catherine shrugged.
“I will have a name.” As soon as he spoke, however, he knew who it had to be. “Paulette?”
Catherine shrugged, but he knew he’d guessed correctly. At least it hadn’t been another student.
Aiden could likely buy Paulette’s silence. He would deal with that later. “Who else have you told?”
She sighed dramatically. “No one,” she said as though he should have assumed as much. Then she smiled and added, “Yet.”
“You will not tell anyone,” Aiden said, hoping she was telling the truth about not having gossiped about what she’d seen and done. “And you will write a letter of apology to Miss Wilton or you will have no dresses.”
She leaned toward him. “I would rather you thrash me. I know you want to.”
The words cooled his temper, as she surely knew they would. Anytime she reminded him of her past abuse, he pulled back. But he would not be manipulated by the reminder. He had treated her with nothing but decency, and it was wrong of her to insinuate that he was like every other caregiver. “I do not want to thrash you, Catherine. I want you to learn. I want you to behave in a way that will open doors, not close them.”
She flopped back into the chair and stared at the ceiling.
“I love you, Catherine.”
“No, you don’t.” She closed her eyes. “No one loves me.”
His immediate answer was to say that was not true, but he paused instead. Had anyone besides his mother ever truly loved this child? Did he? If he did not, then why was he going through all this misery? That, in and of itself, was proof that he did love her.
“I have changed everything in my life to care for you and to see you well, and I am not going to send you to Germany unless it becomes the only option. You can do better than this, and I am determined to do anything possible to ensure it.”
She cracked open an eye and cocked her head. “By seducing my teachers? Perhaps you should try Miss Bowman next. She’s fat as a cow and ugly as a post. She would likely respond very well to your advances.”
Mrs. Gwenyth Simmons came into the parlor where Aiden waited, but she remained in the doorway, and her expression was polite, rather than warm as it had been on prior occasions. “Lenora is not seeing anyone, Mr. Asher.”
He looked at the floor and sat back down even though Mrs. Simmons remained standing. “She is here, though?” That meant her aunt had not turned her out; that was a relief. He pushed his hands through his hair and wished the certitude he’d felt when this idea had first come to him was as strong now as it had been when he’d thought it.
He had wanted to talk to Miss Wilton—Lenora—before making this proposal to Mrs. Simmons, but perhaps a letter of explanation would be better. She could read a letter in private and consider his position without feeling pressed to respond in the moment she faced him. He needed to fix this, all of it, as soon as possible.
He heard Mrs. Simmons’s skirts rustle as she crossed the room and sat on the settee across from him. He looked into her expectant face. He didn’t know how much Lenora had told her, but it was apparent she knew enough to be quite displeased.
“I would never turn her out, Mr. Asher. She is my niece, and I care for her a great deal. But she is distraught.”
Of course, she was. He took a breath and let it out slowly. At least he could explain himself to someone, and then perhaps her aunt could help Lenora understand.
“Hazel Keighly is a family friend,” Aiden began. “We grew up together in Cheshire, and when I returned to England to become Catherine’s guardian, our paths crossed once more. She is twenty-nine years old, practical, orderly, and the type of woman I felt would make a good mother figure for Catherine, who needs stability above all else. Miss Keighly fully understands the reasons for my proposal, and we agreed to wait until Catherine was settled before we married. It is more of an arrangement between us than an official engagement, based on necessity and individual needs on both our parts to secure our futures.”
“An engagement is an engagement, Mr. Asher, and I presume you fully intended to go through with the marriage up until last night.”
Aiden paused, but then nodded. He still thought of Miss Keighly as a friend more than a fiancée. They had finalized nothing and had not even corresponded since his coming to Bath. It was easy to forget about their future plans when the present had demanded so much of his attention.
“And now?”
He looked through the doorway toward the rest of the house, where Lenora was hiding somewhere. Was she angry? Heartbroken? Both? He ached to see her face, desperate to explain himself. “I would like to talk to Lenora.”
“You are engaged to be married to someone else.”
Aiden turned back to Mrs. Simmons. “I need to explain,” he said. “I need to assure her of my feelings so she does not think I am some cad who took advantage of her. My engagement to Miss Keighly is of no consequence, truly, and will be an easy enough matter to remedy.” Surely she was no more committed to the marriage than he was, seeing as how she had not written to him or pressed for a date. In fact, she had treated their arrangement as more of a favor to him than anything else. He would offer her a settlement, she would take it, and that would be that.
Mrs. Simmons’s expression hardened. “Did you know that Lenora was jilted by a man who went on to marry her sister? That is why she originally came to Bath, to be free of the humiliation and to live an independent life. Have you any idea what it felt like for her to realize you had showed her such attention when you were committed elsewhere?”
Aiden blinked, his heart in his throat. “I knew nothing of a broken engagement.”
“And if you had?”
“It would mean nothing to me other than I am sorry for the pain it may have caused her. I have no prejudice against her for her past.” Was Lenora still in love with this man?
“So, you plan to break your engagement to Miss Keighly and court Lenora with such a scandal fresh on your heels?”
“It was an agreement, not a love match, and Miss Keighly is as mild in regard to the promise as I am. I shall write to her today and dissolve things between us. It will not be a scandal such as you fear.”
Mrs. Simmons looked doubtful.
“Within the week, Miss Keighly will agree to break the engagement, and no one will be the wiser. The only people who knew of it were Mrs. Henry and Catherine.”
“Not your families?”
“I am not in good company with my remaining family right now due to their treatment of Catherine during my absence, and Miss Keighly said we should not go public until we had set a date, which we have not done. I only told Mrs. Henry to assure her that I was building a stable foundation for Catherine.”
Mrs. Simmons considered his words, then stood and moved to the bellpull. A footman arrived, and she asked for whiskey instead of the tea Aiden had expected. “Two glasses,” she said before retaking her seat and looking at Aiden.
“You seem quite certain,” Mrs. Simmons said.
Aiden sensed she was letting down her guard and willing to at least consider that what he was saying was true.
&nbs
p; “I am certain,” Aiden said with a nod, though there was a small niggling of making such a promise. He and Miss Keighly had never discussed the possibility that one of them might change their mind, but—no, he pushed away any doubt. She would understand, and she was of such a practical nature that she would very likely encourage him to pursue his heart. If one could marry for love, one should do so.
“How soon do you expect Miss Keighly will agree to your terms?”
“Upon receipt of my letter,” Aiden said eagerly. “She will understand my wanting to follow my heart.” As it was, his heart was lifting with every word he spoke. This would work; it would follow the course he described, and the pain Lenora felt now would be short-lived. “I will ask her for a quick response.” If his head hadn’t been so much in the clouds last night, he’d have written Miss Keighly as soon as he returned from the river. How he wished that was what he’d done. “I can write Lenora a letter as well—explain myself.”
Mrs. Simmons nodded. “I think a letter would be helpful for Lenora. She does not trust easily and will remain in retreat until she is convinced, both of your intentions and of the state of your engagement. Even then, it may take time for her to fully trust you and heal her embarrassment. She feels foolish and used.”
He nodded sadly. “I shall write an explanation, leave nothing out, and when I receive Miss Keighly’s letter, I will forward it to her to prove the way of things.”
The footman returned with a tray holding a decanter of the liquor and two glasses. He proceeded to fill both glasses halfway before leaving the room. Mrs. Simmons picked up her glass. “I’m sure it goes without saying that I never drink so early in the day, but I am making an exception.”
Aiden reached for his glass. “As am I.”
They both threw back the drinks in one swallow. Aiden took the liberty to pour them both another, though he did not drink his right away, as he turned his thoughts to the other reason he had come. He’d have liked a more natural transition from the topic of Lenora to that of Catherine but could not think how to manage it. Seeing as how they were drinking whiskey at one o’clock in the afternoon, perhaps he did not need to stand on such ceremony.
He lifted his glass and met Mrs. Simmons’s eye over the brim. “I also came to talk to you about Catherine.”
Mrs. Simmons furrowed her brow. “What about Catherine?”
“She enlisted a maid to write the anonymous letter to Mrs. Henry that exposed us. She must have followed me last night. That is how Mrs. Henry learned of our . . . meeting.”
Mrs. Simmons frowned and shook her head in disappointment—exactly the reaction he had hoped for.
He set down his glass, stood, and began pacing. “I do not know what to do with her, Mrs. Simmons. I have tried every tactic I can think of, and the school has gone to such lengths, yet she has ruined everything. Mrs. Henry is allowing her to stay at the school for now, but I worry what Catherine might do next. She and I had formed an accord until we came to Bath; since then, things have been difficult. This morning, she was downright horrid when I confronted her. She claims not to care if she is sent to Germany, but I sense an odd sort of preservation about her actions. As though she is trying to push away everyone who cares for her, who gives her special interest or attention. I am afraid that in the process of pushing us away, she is squandering every last opportunity for a normal life.”
“It is heartbreaking.” Mrs. Simmons’s sorrow was sincere. “I wish I had more experience with children so that I might know how to advise you.”
“I did think of one possible solution.” He stopped pacing and sat on the edge of his chair. “Of everyone I have seen her interact with, she behaves the very best for you.”
Mrs. Simmons pulled her eyebrows together. “What do you mean by that?”
“She seems to like you, Mrs. Simmons. Trust you.”
“Well, I like her too, but—”
“You are the only person who does. Well, the only adult who does. Everyone else thinks she is a menace, and rightly so, since she acts as such. But she is on her best behavior with you.”
Mrs. Simmons shifted in her chair, as though both uncomfortable and pleased. “I am flattered,” she said, but she also seemed confused.
“I wonder if she might spend more time with you.” He had to speak fast before he lost his confidence. He felt just as he had when he’d blackmailed Lenora that day on the riverbank. He was asking for something that polite people did not ask for. It felt awkward and inappropriate, yet just as he’d felt with Lenora that day, it seemed necessary. “As punishment for what she’s done, I’ve canceled a dress order as well as our Saturday outings for the next two weeks—it is not enough, but they are the only things she seems to value—and I wondered if she might spend those days with you instead.”
“Spend the day with me?” Mrs. Simmons said with a slight sputter. “And do what? I spend Saturdays at the Pump Room and along the promenade with Lenora. I do nothing that would be of interest to a child.”
“Could she please attend you to the Pump Room on Saturday? I shall make up some job she must do for you—straighten your yarns or read aloud or something to explain it—but mostly I just want to see how she does in your company. I want to see if she will end up in a fit as she does in most situations or, as I suspect, if there is something about the relationship you two share that evens her moods and might be the grounds for some success on her part. Something to build on.”
Mrs. Simmons did not look entirely convinced; in fact, she looked nervous. “I am just who I am, Mr. Asher, and I do not like the contrived feel of this at all. And what if she does throw a fit—what am I to do about that?”
“I will be on hand,” he said, thinking fast. “Have your footman fetch me for the slightest reason. I know it is a great imposition, and I will owe you dearly for your assistance, but of everyone I have seen Catherine interact with all these months, you are the only person who seems to bring out the best of her every time you meet.”
Mrs. Simmons smoothed her skirts and adjusted the lace cuff of her morning gown. She let out a breath. “Very well, I shall do as you ask. I doubt Lenora will want to go out in public that soon anyway. Bring Catherine around at nine thirty on Saturday; I like to be to the Pump Room by ten o’clock. The waters are more potent in the morning, you know. Maybe they will do her some good as well.”
Lenora lowered Mr. Asher’s letter to her lap Monday night and leaned her head against the window of her room at Aunt Gwen’s house—her only room now that she’d been turned out from Mrs. Henry’s school. She stared at the rain-washed city and wished her mother were there, holding her and telling her everything would be all right as she’d done after Evan broke their engagement. Even though Lenora had known her mother could not guarantee that everything would be all right when she’d said it, Lenora had liked hearing it, liked her mother’s arms around her, liked the reminder that she mattered and that someone loved her enough to hurt with her.
She felt completely alone now. She had Aunt Gwen’s sympathy, but that was not quite the same. According to the letter, she also had Aiden’s regret, but that was not enough either. She could not forget the moment she learned he was engaged to someone else. She would not allow herself to forget it.
A tear slid down her cheek. If her mother were here now, would she give comfort, or would she let out a frustrated sigh and wonder how on earth Lenora had landed herself in the middle of a scandal yet again? How could Lenora make a mess of what other women made look so simple? What had she been thinking, kissing a man she already knew to be untrustworthy?
What she had been thinking was that it was all so romantic, like a fairy tale, destiny catching up to her and rewarding her for doing the right thing for Cassie and Evan. It was all the fantastical notions of a ten-year-old girl who had expected a storybook ending. Foolish girl. Simple-minded child. There was a reason she had felt invisible for most of her l
ife.
Lenora glanced at the letter again, imagining Mr. Asher toiling over every word as he tried his best to explain. His engagement was a matter of agreement for Catherine’s sake, he’d written. He said he cared deeply for Lenora. He said he was sorry he had not told her of the engagement but there had not seemed to be a time or reason. He wanted to see her and explain everything in person, but barring that, he would send round the letter from Miss Keighly as soon as he received it. She closed her eyes.
He cares deeply for me, she told herself. He did not say he loved her.
In the letter, he explained that Catherine had followed them last night—though how she’d managed it was still a mystery—and that she had a maid help her write the letter, which she then slid under Mrs. Henry’s door, knowing full well that the consequences would be severe. She had wanted Lenora to suffer.
Last night’s kiss may have distracted from that truth, but Catherine was intent against her. Even if the situation with Mr. Asher could be repaired—which she did not foresee—she would encounter this same venom from Catherine over and over and over. Lenora was not built for such conflict, so perhaps this heartache was a blessing in disguise. Perhaps it was what she needed to prevent her heart from running away from her and resulting in a lifetime of misery. And yet, even if this turn of events was meant to prevent greater pain in the future, it was still painful now.
People would talk. Wonder. Speculate. Lenora imagined walking through the promenade knowing that people were sharing gossip about her. She imagined encountering their questioning eyes and accusing smiles. It would be Leagrave all over again. She could not stand the thought of going through the censure and pity again, and yet she was out of places to run.
More tears leaked from her eyes. Mr. Asher had awakened feelings within her she had never known existed, yet he was engaged to another. He had held her in his arms knowing full well he was promised to Miss Keighly, knowing even as he awakened her heart that he would break it. She had thought she could trust him. She had allowed herself to be vulnerable with him. She had let herself love him and risked the careful, respectable life she’d built to make up for the marriage she’d given up wishing for. For a few hours, she had believed he loved her too, that her future was new again, and her wishes to belong somewhere were fulfilled.
Miss Wilton's Waltz Page 13
