Love and Marriage

by Alexandra Ivy

  He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “I do not wish to read.”

  “Would you prefer that I send Aunt Sarah to bear you company?”

  He greeted her sweet words with a jaundiced frown. “I suppose you are attempting to be humorous? I would as soon desire the return of that devilish doctor to gouge me.”

  “I could send the carriage to fetch him.”

  He abruptly lifted her hand to press it to his lips. “What I want is for you to remain.”

  She trembled at his touch, but with an annoying determination she rose to her feet and pulled her hand free.

  “I cannot.”

  “Cannot or will not?”

  “Gabriel.”

  He sighed at the stubborn line of her jaw. He knew that expression all too well.

  “You will at least return later?”

  “Yes.” With an uncertain smile she gathered her samples of fabric and hurried from the room.

  Left on his own, Gabriel shook his head slowly.

  He felt so close to reaching Beatrice. As if any moment she would smile and welcome him back into her heart.

  And then, without warning, she would retreat behind her wary distrust.

  Would he ever have the wife he so desperately desired?

  * * *

  Although Beatrice had fled from Gabriel’s chambers with every intention of devoting the afternoon to the various tenants she had been sadly neglecting, she discovered herself instead standing at the window of her office.

  It was not that she was particularly fascinated by Chalfrey’s shrill protests as the workmen laid the new paths for the rose garden, or even the glorious sunset that bathed the countryside in a rosy hue.

  Instead, she pondered the strange and complex emotions that battled within her heart.

  How was a mere woman to know what she was feeling?

  On one hand, she had been forced to concede that she still cared for Gabriel. The pain and desperation she had experienced when he had been injured could not be denied. And too, over the past two days they had shared moments that were as wonderful and precious as the days of their brief courtship. And yet he was still the same gentleman who had deliberately wed her for her fortune.

  Could she simply forgive and forget what he had done?

  Did she want to?

  It was that question that kept her standing at the window long after the workmen had retired from their duties and dinner had been served.

  She hoped that by searching her heart she would eventually discover the truth that had evaded her for so long.

  “So deep in thought, Beatrice?”

  Startled by the sudden interruption, Beatrice turned about to regard Vicar Humbly as he strolled into the room. She experienced a pang of guilt as she realized that she had condemned the poor gentleman to the mercy of Aunt Sarah. Hardly sporting of her.

  “Mr. Humbly.” She managed a distracted smile. “I did not hear you enter.”

  He tilted his head to one side. “No, you were glaring fiercely out the window. What dark thoughts have brought such a scowl to your pretty countenance?”

  Disconcerted by the older man’s piercing scrutiny, Beatrice shifted uneasily.

  “No dark thoughts at all. I was simply contemplating one of the inventions I recently viewed.”

  “Oh? Which invention?” he swiftly demanded.

  “What?”

  “I asked which invention.”

  “I . . .”

  His lips twitched as she struggled to invent a suitable lie. “You were thinking of Gabriel, were you not?”

  Realizing that she had been easily outwitted, Beatrice heaved a sigh.

  “Yes.”

  Humbly moved close enough to grasp her hands in his own. “Has his condition worsened?”

  “No,” Beatrice was swift to reassure him. “The doctor says that he may leave his bed tomorrow.”

  “But surely that is wonderful news?”

  “Oh, yes, quite wonderful.”

  The vicar studied her tense features. “So why do you frown?”

  Unable to dissemble beneath that steady gaze, she gave a sad smile.

  “Marriage is a very complicated business.”

  He gave her hands a soft squeeze. “All relationships are complicated, my dear. Please, will you sit with me a moment?”

  “Very well,” she agreed, allowing herself to be led to the small sofa set beside the carved marble chimneypiece.

  Waiting until they were both settled upon the crimson damask sofa, Humbly offered her a kindly smile.

  “Do you know, when I was merely a young lad I used to love to go fishing.”

  Beatrice gave a startled blink at his odd words. “I suppose all boys love to go fishing.”

  “Yes.” A reminiscent expression settled upon his round countenance. “There was a small river quite near our house, and during the afternoon I would spend hours frightening the fish away. Unfortunately, I also ended every afternoon at the bottom of the river.”

  Presuming the tenderhearted gentleman was attempting to distract her troubled thoughts, Beatrice forced a stiff smile to her lips.

  “You were so clumsy?”

  “No. The neighborhood children thought me rather a source for jest and enjoyed tumbling me into the water.”

  Beatrice gave a soft gasp. It was unthinkable that anyone could be so cruel to this sweet man.

  “That is terrible.”

  The older gentleman grimaced. “I certainly thought so at the time. I began searching for hidden places along the river where I would not be discovered by the others. I became very good at it.”

  “They were horrid boys,” she said fiercely, all too aware of how deeply the taunts of children could hurt. She was fortunate to have had Addy and Victoria, who had always stood at her side.

  “No more than most young boys,” Humbly retorted with a shrug. “They were only attempting to show off for one another.”

  “Well, at least you were able to fish in peace,” she said, wondering if she could be so forgiving.

  “Yes, I even had a friend who would join me now and then. Georgie Dicart. He was the youngest son of the local doctor and often at the mercy of the older boys as well.”

  “So the two of you stuck together?”

  There was a short pause before Humbly heaved a sigh. “We did until the day he led the other boys to my hidden place. You see, he hoped to impress them by offering me as his sacrifice.”

  Beatrice instinctively reached out to grasp his hand. Her heart was deeply touched by the betrayal he must have experienced.

  “Oh, no.”

  “I was devastated, of course,” he admitted with a hint of sadness in his sherry eyes. “Not so much for being tossed in the water once again—after all, I was quite accustomed to dragging myself home soaked to the skin—but because my friend, the one person I trusted, had betrayed me.”

  Beatrice slowly stiffened as she sensed that the vicar was not simply attempting to distract her with his childhood tale. He clearly intended to reveal that she was not the only one to have offered her trust and had it destroyed.

  “Yes,” she said slowly.

  “I cried at first,” he continued in low tones, “then, like most twelve-year-old boys, I began plotting my revenge. I wanted him to feel as embarrassed and hurt as I had been.”

  Even knowing that Humbly had a devious intent behind his story, Beatrice could not resist discovering where the wily old man was attempting to lead her.

  “What did you do?”

  “I waited until we had all gathered in church on Sunday, then in the middle of the sermon I stood and accused Georgie of stealing from the poor box.”

  Beatrice widened her eyes in shock. “Good heavens.”

  “It was quite effective.” The vicar gave a rueful shake of his head. “The congregation fell silent and the boy’s father yanked him to his feet and beat him in the presence of the entire neighborhood. I shall never forget the look upon my friend’s face.”

&
nbsp; Beatrice was startled in spite of herself. It was impossible to imagine this kind, generous man ever harming anyone.

  “I suppose he looked as if he hated you?” she asked gently.

  Humbly gave a shake of his head. “No. The look upon his countenance was one of relief. He had felt so guilty at having deceived me that he was eager to be punished. I left the church feeling like the most loathsome creature on earth.”

  Beatrice’s heart squeezed with a sudden flare of pain.

  There was no means to avoid the obvious connection to her and Gabriel.

  Like Humbly, she had been betrayed and struck out in fury. While Gabriel had reacted just as Georgie with his readiness to accept her punishment as his just reward.

  And in the end, she did feel like the most loathsome creature on earth.

  She bit her bottom lip as she met his steady gaze. “You no doubt are referring to me and Gabriel.”

  “I merely wish you to look into your heart, Beatrice,” he said softly. “Is punishing Gabriel making you happy?”

  She gave a restless shake of her head, wishing it were all so simple.

  “It is not just a matter of punishment, it is a matter of trust. Did you ever again tell Georgie where you went to go fishing?”

  Humbly smiled complacently. “Of course I did. He was my friend. He made a mistake, but then again, so did I. Friends forgive one another.”

  Her eyes darkened with the fear that had haunted her since her wedding day.

  “And what if he betrays me again?”

  His expression became unexpectedly stern. “My dear, none of us can see into the future. But surely he has proven over the past few months that he wants your happiness above all things?”

  “I suppose,” she agreed warily.

  “It is not wise to brood upon past wounds. In time they will poison your soul. You must look to the future now. Decide if you wish it to be filled with this brittle anger or if you would be better served to find peace with your husband.”

  Beatrice gave a slow nod of her head. “I will consider your words.”

  “That is all that I ask.” He reached out to lightly pat her cheek. “Good night, my dear.”

  “Good night.”

  The vicar struggled to his feet and slowly left Beatrice alone with her thoughts.

  For many moments she pondered the vicar’s words, knowing he was only saying out loud what she had realized deep in her heart.

  Gabriel was her husband.

  She had promised to be at his side for the rest of her life.

  Did she wish to continue this empty battle that made both of them miserable?

  Or did she risk her heart once again and seek the happiness she had once hoped was hers?

  Barely aware that she was moving, Beatrice rose to her feet and walked toward the door.

  It was time she confronted her fears.

  And the only way to do so was with the help of Gabriel.

  Twelve

  Gabriel set aside the large tray of food he had left largely untasted. His usually ravenous appetite had been stolen not only by the hours of simply lying in bed, but also by the long afternoon awaiting Beatrice’s return.

  Where the devil was she?

  He knew from the servants that she had not left the house. Nor was she with the workmen or visiting with Mr. Humbly. He had also discovered she had not made an appearance for dinner.

  Clearly, something was troubling her, he decided. Beatrice always retreated within herself when she had something upon her mind.

  But what?

  With stubborn tenacity his mind had gone over their brief encounter earlier in the day. Could he have said or done something to annoy her? Had she perhaps been frightened by his harmless kiss upon her hand?

  At last he conceded defeat.

  How the deuce was a mere man ever to understand the mysterious workings of the female mind? He might as well contemplate the ancient philosophies or distant stars. He had as much a chance of deciphering their meaning as understanding his wife.

  This dark knowledge had instilled a restless ache within him.

  He longed to leave his bed and seek Beatrice out. He wanted to confront her and demand to know why she had so rudely deserted him. He wanted to shake her until she admitted she still cared for him. He wanted to pull her into his arms and drown in her pleasure.

  Instead, he could only lie in his bed and curse the moment he had decided to wed Beatrice without confessing his need for her fortune.

  What a fool he had been. He had traded in his hopes for love to save a moldering pile of stone and tenants who would never understand the sacrifices he had made for them.

  What a damnable, damnable mess.

  He was so intent upon his self-recriminations that he barely noted the door to his chamber being pushed slowly open. Then his heart gave a sudden leap as Beatrice cautiously entered.

  “Beatrice,” he breathed, his gaze anxiously surveying her pale features.

  “Am I intruding?”

  “Of course not.” He waited until she had hesitantly crossed the room to perch upon the chair that he kept situated close to his bed. “You are pale, my dear. Is something the matter?”

  “I . . . I think that we should speak of our marriage,” she confessed in low tones.

  It was what he had desired to do from the moment she had discovered the truth behind their hasty marriage. All he had wanted was the opportunity to convince her that he had never meant to hurt her. That he had always intended to be a good and faithful husband.

  Now, however, he discovered himself decidedly wary.

  What if she had decided that she wished to leave Falcon Park?

  Perhaps she had even determined to seek a divorce.

  Could he let her go?

  Could he bear to give her up if that was what would give her happiness?

  Unconsciously he squared his shoulders.

  Yes.

  As much as it might rip at his heart. As much as it might condemn him to a life of barren loneliness, he would allow her to leave if that was what she truly wished.

  How could he not give her the opportunity to seek the happiness he had denied her?

  She deserved so much better than a life filled with bitter regret.

  It was all very noble.

  So why the devil did he feel as if the life were being ruthlessly squeezed from his very soul?

  “Very well, my dear,” he at last forced the words past his stiff lips.

  “I . . .” She stumbled to a halt, appearing as reluctant as himself to begin the discussion.

  “Yes, Beatrice?”

  She gazed down at the hands she had clenched in her lap. “This is not easy.”

  Gabriel gritted his teeth. “You are not thinking of leaving Falcon Park, are you?”

  Her head abruptly lifted. “No.”

  “Good.” He slowly released the breath he had not even realized he was holding. She wasn’t leaving. He still had a chance. “As much as I desire you to be happy, I should be lost without you here. You have become an essential part of my life.”

  “Hardly essential,” she protested in breathy tones.

  “Utterly essential,” he countered, determinedly holding her gaze with his own. “You are the one person who loves Falcon Park and the people who depend upon us as much as I. More than that, you are my wife. My true partner.”

  “I have not been a very good wife,” she said ruefully.

  “You had little cause to take pride in the position.”

  Her gaze once again returned to her hands. “When I discovered that you were in need of a fortune, I was very hurt.”

  Gabriel briefly closed his eyes against the wave of sharp regret.

  “I am sorry, my dear.”

  “I felt as if I had been betrayed by the one person I had come to trust.”

  “Yes,” he breathed softly.

  “And I suppose I wished to punish you for having deceived me.”

  His lips twisted. Her col
d distaste had been punishment indeed. He would as soon face a firing squad.

  “You have been very efficient,” he said dryly.

  Surprisingly, Beatrice gave a faint wince. “But not very happy.”

  “No,” he agreed.

  “Vicar Humbly warns me that I must not cling to my anger. That it will poison my soul.”

  Gabriel sent a silent prayer of thanks toward the bumbling old gentleman. Obviously the vicar had been doing his share to ease Beatrice’s troubled doubt.

  “He is a very wise man.”

  “Yes, but . . .”

  “What?”

  She slowly lifted her head, the amber eyes dark with uncertainty. “I do not know how.”

  Gabriel resisted the urge to pull her into his arms and demonstrate just how easy it could be to put the past behind them. He might be able to make her body respond to his touch, but he needed more. He wanted her heart.

  “Do you know, Beatrice, when I first joined my regiment that I always forced my way to the midst of the fighting?” he said gently, forcing himself to thrust aside his dislike of recalling the heedless, uncertain youth he had been when he had fled from Falcon Park. “I was a reckless fool who courted death all because my father had always considered me a weak coward. I was determined to prove him wrong even if it meant my own death.”

  She paled to a near white as she regarded him with a satisfying expression of horror.

  “Gabriel.”

  He gave a rueful lift of one shoulder. “It was my colonel who took me aside and sternly informed me that it took less courage to die than to live and face the troubles each of us have in our life. He was right, of course. It did take more courage to live. Especially after I returned home to discover the disaster my father had made of the estate. And then, when you turned from me and I realized how badly I had hurt you. There was more than one morning when I desired to simply walk away and leave it all behind.”

  She regarded him for a moment before giving a slow nod of her head.

  “Yes.”

  He carefully considered his words, not wishing to press her too forcibly. The mere fact that she was willing to discuss her hurt and disappointment was a good omen. He could not risk rushing her.