The Tutor

by Hope Tarr

  He swallowed hard. “Hearing the words from your lips is hard, harder than I expected.”

  Bea nodded. “As is saying them.” She reached out to pat his shoulder, thought better of it and let her hand drop. “My one regret is to have caused you pain or embarrassment. Anything I may do to ease your burden, you have only to name it. Should you wish to appear to be the one to beg off, I shall support you in your story.”

  He shook his head. “I have waited to wed you for two years now. The day you finally accepted me was among the happiest of my life. Now that you tell me a marriage between us is not to be, I find myself unable to care what gossip is put about.”

  She reached out and this time her hand found his shoulder. Resting it there, she said, “I am very sorry.”

  He ran a hand over his brow. “I realize that my…performance the other evening was…lacking, hardly the stuff of a young lady’s romantic dreams. I was deucedly nervous and, as I said, it was my…er…first attempt. If you will only reconsider, you have my word that I will endeavor to be a good husband to you in…every way.” Blushing, he broke off.

  His desperation plucked at her heartstrings, but for both their sakes she held firm. Regardless of whether or not Ralph remained in her life, she would not consign either of them to a loveless and likely sexless marriage.

  “What happened or rather didn’t happen between us was as much my fault as yours.”

  She’d added the latter to be kind, but hearing the words aloud, they struck her as nothing less than the truth. If the past week of “lessons” with Ralph had taught her anything, it was that to receive sexual pleasure, one must begin by being a good lover oneself. Looking back, she more than suspected that Mr. Billingsby had likely found her performance to be every bit as…dispiriting as she had his.

  “Were I to marry you, I would be doing us both a disservice. We both deserve to share our lives with mates for whom we can feel grand passion and enormous love. Someone who feels those things for us in return.”

  He hesitated, gaze sliding over her. “By the looks of you, you’ve found it already. You’ve always been pretty, far too pretty for someone like me, but you’re positively blooming.”

  “I am in love,” she admitted.

  He lifted his chin and sent her a wobbly smile. “Sad though I am for myself, I will endeavor to be happy for you.”

  “You are a good man, Mr. Billingsby.”

  “Please,” he said, “Call me by my given name.”

  “Very well, Hamilton, someday very soon you will find a woman worthy of you, I know you will.”

  She meant it. She felt a guilty pang for having spent so very much of her time and energy cataloguing his supposed failings. It had taken her crying off their engagement to appreciate his many finer qualities.

  “I hope so.” He puffed out his chest. “Hang hope, I will!” His shoulders sagged. “But first I must find a way to get over you. I shall miss you, Bea. I genuinely enjoy your company.”

  “And I yours.” For the first time, Bea found herself honestly returning the sentiment without pretense or obligation. “I’d like us to start over as friends.”

  “Friends?”

  She nodded, her spirits lifting with relief. Now that the worst was over, she found herself feeling tender toward him. “Yes, friends. I believe that in the years to come we shall be great friends indeed.” She held out her hand.

  He grasped it, his palm dry rather than sodden as she remembered it. “Friends. I should like that. I believe I should like it very much.” At the final moment, his face crumpled. He pulled her to him.

  “Oh, Hamilton, sweet boy, don’t take on so.” Bea reached out and enfolded him in a heartfelt hug.

  RALPH WHIPPED AWAY FROM the library door, lungs locking and heart racing. Bracing his back against the plasterwork wall, he felt as though someone had ripped the heart from his chest, leaving a hole that somehow still managed to ache. Mere feet away, Bea stood wrapped about the milksop, Billingsby, like ivy about a pole. Ralph had arrived in time to hear only snatches of their conversation—scattered murmurings of mutual fondness and futures—but the body language of that embrace told him all he needed to know.

  His foolhardy fantasy was finished, the twisted fairy tale at an end. Beatrice might be marrying a frog who might never transform to a prince, but still he was a frog from her own class and kind. She was leaving Ralph as his mother had. Unlike his mum, Bea hadn’t lied at least. She was doing exactly what she’d set out to do. She was seducing her soon-to-be husband and by the looks of them, she was going about it with admirable expertise.

  He remembered the railway timetable he’d earlier slid into his jacket’s inside breast pocket and pulled it out. There was no need to wait until next week or even tomorrow. The next southbound train to London arrived inside of two hours. If he left at once, he might well make it. Other than his clothes, he really had nothing to pack.

  His fingers fisted about the leaflet. Tossing the balled up paper on the floor, he allowed there were no more “ifs” to consider—and absolutely no more reasons to stay.

  KATE LEFT MR. BILLINGSBY in the library with the promise that he would stay long enough for luncheon. As soon as she could, she broke away and bolted for Ralph’s rooms. Telling Mr. Billingsby to his face that she could not marry him had been a hard thing to do, but in the aftermath, it felt freeing. Her and Ralph’s earlier tiff was just that, a silly misunderstanding. Clever and charming, Ralph would soon find another situation, she was sure of it. If need be, she might find work, as well. What mattered was that they loved each other and were free to be together.

  Stepping inside, humming alerted her that she wasn’t alone. Spirits sinking, she crossed the main room and followed the singing into the bedchamber.

  Hattie stood beside the stripped-down bed. The sheets in which Bea had only just lain were bunched into a ball on the floor. Had the housekeeper paused to peer at them, Bea had no doubt that the traces of their recent lovemaking would have been embarrassingly evident.

  Walking over, Bea asked, “Hattie, what are you doing here?”

  Hattie looked up from the blanket she was folding. “I might ask you the same.”

  Bea allowed she had no choice but to brazen it out. Remembering she was a woman, not a child, she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and prepared to stand her ground. “Yes, you might only I asked you first.”

  “Clearing out Ralph’s room. He won’t be needing it anymore.”

  Bea swung her gaze to the far side of the room. The wardrobe doors stood open, the cabinet’s interior empty save for a few empty hangers.

  Panic seized her. “Where is he?”

  Pummeling a pillow, Hattie answered, “Gone.”

  “Gone?” Bea echoed, stunned. She’d never imagined he meant to leave so soon, let alone without so much as a goodbye.

  Hattie nodded. “He left for the train station a half hour ago.”

  A half hour ago! She scraped a hand through her hair, belatedly remembering she’d pinned it. Pins spraying, she demanded, “What is his destination? Surely he left a direction?”

  Hattie shook her head. “Somewhere in London, but beyond that, he wouldn’t say.”

  Feeling as though she might faint for what would be the very first time in her life, Bea gripped the bed rail, the very bed rail to which she’d savored being tied. That her fortunes could so drastically change in just a few hours seemed impossible to wrap her mind around.

  “He left this for you.”

  Hattie picked up the book that had been lying out on the bedside table and handed it to her. It was The Kama Sutra, of course. Even in absentia, Ralph’s sense of irony remained.

  “Thank you.” Feeling like a sleepwalker, Bea stretched out a trembling hand and took it.

  For a few seconds she thought to take it back to her room, only she wasn’t at all sure her weak knees would carry her that far. Aware of Hattie watching her, she sank onto the side of the mattress and cracked open the richly boun
d cover.

  She wasn’t really surprised to see a folded note slipped into the spine. Hands shaking, she unfolded the crisp vellum and read.

  The proverbial scales have fallen from my eyes, and I see what I should have known since first we met: the impossibility of our ever being together.

  Bea paused, gathering herself. Unlike her uneven scrawl, Ralph’s penmanship was precise, elegant.

  Hattie’s voice broke in. “What does it say?”

  Bea pulled her watery gaze from the paper. “You don’t know?”

  “I’m no snoop,” Hattie huffed, drawing up beside her. A moment later, she added, “Besides, he sealed it.”

  She returned to the letter.

  Even were you not an earl’s daughter, still you are, my dearest, darling girl, far too fine for the likes of me.

  A tear rolled down her cheek and struck the page, blurring the ink.

  I wish you and your fiancé every happiness. I only hope he has the sound sense to deserve you as I cannot nor ever will. I remain your most loyal friend, humble servant—

  —And affectionate tutor…

  RS

  SITTING AT HER MAHOGANY DESK inlaid with maple, Toby stretched out beside her, Kate was feeling mightily pleased with the turn life had taken. She had a loving husband whom she adored and who supported her in her writing and, indeed, in her every endeavor. Not so very long ago, she’d encountered Bea’s fiancé, Mr. Billingsby, exiting the library in such deep distress it could only mean Bea had come to her senses and broken off their engagement. A short while ago, Kate had put her own dearest daughter down for a postteatime nap and now further family duties were as yet hours away. Running her fingertips over the keys of her new typewriter, a gorgeous black-lacquered beast Rourke had special ordered from the American manufacturer Sholes & Glidden, she looked forward to hours of undisturbed, productive peace.

  The door swung open, slamming against the freshly painted plasterwork. Bea stormed inside.

  Cheeks shot with pink, she marched up to Kate’s desk. “What did you say to him?”

  Flummoxed, for a moment Kate could but stare. “To whom?” The tears pooling in her baby sister’s eyes and the accompanying tremble to her bottom lip told her this was no tantrum, but deep distress.

  Bea let out a snort. “To Ralph, as if you didn’t know. He’s given his notice and gone.”

  Kate started. Ralph was leaving them! Indeed this was news and bad news at that.

  “I did not know.”

  “Well, he has. He spoke to Rourke just this morning.” Bea nodded, the expression in her eyes bruised. “Apparently, he’s already left for the train station. To go to London,” she added, voice breaking as though London might as well be Mongolia or the moon. “He left me a…note.”

  She jammed a fist into her gown’s pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She made as if to fling it upon the desk, hesitated, and then tucked it tenderly back inside.

  Kate was at a loss. She’d thought her and Ralph’s heart-to-heart had gone off enormously well. Perhaps her threat to cut off his balls had been in poor taste, but even so, she couldn’t imagine she’d said anything so waspish, so horrible to cause him to desert not only his best friend and their household, but Bea, the woman he professed to love.

  “If I gave offense, it was certainly not intentional. And Rourke has said nothing to me about any quarrel. Perhaps you should examine your own interchanges for the cause.”

  Bea glowered at her, no small feat given the wateriness of her eyes. “Meaning?”

  Kate was in no mood to fight, but it was obvious Bea was. “I do not write mystery novels and yet remain blind to real life. That Ralph and you were both absent from breakfast this morning did not pass unremarked upon.”

  “Oh.” Bea folded her arms over her breasts and looked Kate in the eye. “Very well, I shagged Ralph. I shagged your husband’s best friend and secretary and now he’s run off. Last night he told me he loved me but it seems he does not.”

  Kate surmised she was supposed to be shocked. She wasn’t. She might be mistress of a castle; still, little went on in her household that she didn’t know of or at least suspect. Beyond that, Bea was her baby sister. “Does Ralph know your fiancé is here?”

  “Mr. Billingsby is my fiancé no longer. I’ve broken off my engagement to him.”

  That much was good news. “I suspected so when I saw him earlier. Still, I am relieved to hear it. I’m sure Ralph was, as well.”

  Bea pressed her lips firmly together and glanced down at the floor. “I have not told him.”

  “Bea, why not?” Kate pushed back her chair and stood.

  Bea bit her lip. Twisting her hands before her, she admitted, “I was afraid.”

  Incredulous, Kate looked at the lovely, accomplished young woman before her and wondered why Bea still did not seem to know her true worth. “Afraid of what?”

  Bea sighed. “Afraid he won’t want me, I suppose.”

  Torn between frustration and sympathy, Kate said, “Is it so very hard to believe someone, a man, might actually love you with all his heart?”

  Mouth trembling Bea admitted, “Yes, yes, it is.”

  Kate hadn’t supposed such an easy surrender. Startled, she asked, “Why, dearest?”

  The floodgates burst. Tears streaming, Bea admitted, “Because I’m so bloody boring.”

  “THAT’S ABSURD.” Sidestepping Toby, Kate rounded the desk. “You are the furthest thing from boring.” She opened her arms, and grateful for the comfort, Bea let herself be enfolded in that warm, sisterly embrace.

  Bending to lay her head on Kate’s shoulder, she sniffed, “Well, maybe not boring precisely, but certainly I am not the sort of woman who can hold the interest of a man such as Ralph, not beyond a week.”

  Ralph was the most handsome, clever and altogether entertaining man she’d ever known. He was also a superb lover with sexual appetites that went well beyond the ordinary as she well knew. How could she, a passably pretty girl from a top-drawer family who, until that week, had been cocooned in safety all her life, have possibly thought to hold him?

  Kate stared at her. “Why should you think that?”

  Bea lifted her head. “You yourself warned me that charming rogues like Ralph eat little girls for breakfast.”

  “Oh, dear.” Kate blew out a long, slow breath. “I was wrong.”

  It was Bea’s turn to stare. “You admit to being in the wrong?” If so, this would indeed be a first.

  “Yes, I do. I believe Ralph loves you. Nine months ago I would not have thought so, but I do now. Ralph loves you, Bea, with all his heart.”

  Bea waited for her sister to say more. With Kate, there was always more. When several heartbeats had raced by and Kate still had not, Bea feared she might implode. “But,” she prodded.

  “There is no ‘but.’ As to what comes next, that is entirely up to you. I’ve made a pet of you for far too long. But you’ve been my baby sister, my baby, since I was nine years old. Now I must learn to treat you as a woman and that means trusting your judgment.”

  Warmed, Bea admitted, “I do love him, Kate. I love him with all my heart. I would give anything to know where in London he has gone.”

  Kate was already headed for the door. “We will find Rourke at once. If anyone can puzzle out Ralph’s whereabouts, it is my husband.”

  From the doorway, Hattie held out what looked to a wrinkled train schedule. “He’s bound for Paddington.”

  Heart beating double time, Bea bounded across the room and took it. “The train timetable with Paddington circled in pen. Oh, thank you, Hattie, thank you!”

  Dividing her gaze between the two women, Bea admitted to herself that she didn’t only want Ralph. She needed him. She needed him in her bed to be sure, but beyond that she needed him in her life. The Mr. Billing-bys of this world, no matter how solid and respectable, would never ever do. There was but one action left to take.

  “Kate, forgive the imposition, but I must borrow your
brougham again. It seems I have a train to make.”

  STANDING UPON THE TRAIN platform minutes away from his London-bound train pulling in, Ralph considered that it was a damnable curse, this caring about people. The old Ralph Sylvester never would have allowed himself the luxury of it. That bloke had been young but wise, cheeky but clever. He scarcely knew himself these days. That was the problem with wearing so bloody many masks. After a while, you couldn’t be certain what, if anything, lay beneath.

  His train pulled in, screeching to a halt on the tracks before him. Moments later, the doors opened and eager passengers flooded the platform, several greeted with handshakes and hugs by those waiting to receive them. Watching one young couple embrace, Ralph felt a lump lodge in his throat. His newfound wealth meant nothing to him without someone with whom he might share both it and his life. Not any “someone,” but Beatrice.

  What the hell was he thinking! Hang pride, he had to go back for her! He had to at least try to win her back from the milksop.

  Fortunately, the only luggage he’d brought with him was the light valise sitting at his feet. He was reaching for it when above the station manager’s bullhorn, the porters’ whistles and the general din he swore he heard someone calling his name. Not just any someone, but Beatrice.

  He swung about in perfect time to see her go down, swallowed by the crowd. “Beatrice!”

  BEA REACHED THE TRAIN PLATFORM as the train bound to Paddington pulled in. Her breath hitching, she slanted a hand over her brow, straining to see through the clouds of steam to the throng of passengers about to board. A woman pushing a pram stepped to the side at the same time that a mountain of carted luggage momentously moved. And that’s when she saw him.

  “Ralph!”

  Folly though it likely was to think he might see let alone hear her, she stuck a hand up into the air and hailed him nonetheless.

  “Ralph!” she called out again, not caring for the scowls and queer looks directed her way.