“What?” his mother gasped, sitting heavily.
“Why?” and “Pourquoi?” demanded Drury and Juliette in unison.
Bromwell ignored them, speaking only to Nell as if they were alone, because right then, they might as well have been on that deserted island.
Regarding her with all the love he felt, sure of his decision as he’d never been so sure of anything in his life, not even his desire to study spiders, he said, “I’ve been a stubborn, selfish fool. If I must choose between my expedition and you, I gladly, happily choose you. And you mustn’t fear that I’ll come to resent you or regret my choice. How can I regret anything that will make me so happy and so blessed?”
Still doubtful, still unsure, Nell didn’t reply as her anxious gaze searched his face.
“I mean it, Nell,” he assured her. “I think marriage—provided it’s to you—will be even more interesting than any expedition could ever be.”
“Not to mention vastly more entertaining and comfortable,” Drury said from the sofa, where he now stood behind Juliette.
“But your studies, your plans, the spiders!” Nell protested in astonished, uncertain gasps, as if she still couldn’t believe he meant what he said.
“As my mother has noted on more than one occasion, there are plenty of spiders in Britain. I shall devote myself to studying the local arachnids. After all, some things are common to all the species, such as the navigation and construction of their webs and—”
“By God, now you see the light?” his father demanded abruptly and loudly, coming out of his shocked stupor. “After refusing to listen to sense all these years?”
“Oh, be quiet, Frederic!” the countess ordered, leaping to her feet and more animated than Bromwell had seen in years. “Miss Springley has not yet accepted his proposal.”
“Miss Springley?” the earl cried. “Who the devil is Miss Springley?”
“I am,” Nell said quietly. “I’m not Lady Eleanor Springford, but Eleanor Springley, the impoverished daughter of Edward Springley, who’s been convicted of theft and transported to Botany Bay.”
“Oh…my…God!” the earl choked, reaching for the mantel to steady himself. “Is that true?”
“Yes, but I don’t care,” Bromwell firmly replied.
“Whereas I do,” Nell said, louder and with more confidence, her eyes shining not with unshed tears, but fierce determination. “I’m well aware of what marriage to a woman like me will cost your son, so no, Justinian, I still won’t marry you and be the ruin of your career.”
“What do you mean, ruin?” Juliette exclaimed with disbelief. “Buggy is famous for his work, and justly so—work he can continue to do. And he will always be received by the people who matter. As for those small-minded people who will not because of the woman he loves, he does not need their friendship or support.”
“She’s right,” Drury said calmly. “In fact, those of a romantic bent will likely be even more inclined to buy your books, wondering if they’ll be able to see hints of the sentimental lover in the naturalist.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” Bromwell said, too upset by Nell’s continuing refusal to be amused.
He turned to Nell and grasped her cold hands. “Except for the part about not being received by fools and idiots. I don’t care about that.”
“Do you mean to say,” his father said as if the point was finally penetrating his gray matter, “that this young woman is not the daughter of the Duke of Wymerton?”
“No, she isn’t,” his wife affirmed, “but if she makes Justinian happy—”
“And she’s got no dowry or property at all, nor likely to?”
“Father, I don’t care if she’s poor,” Bromwell said. He looked down at Nell, his eyes pleading. “Please, Nell, won’t you accept me?”
She shook her head, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “To give up your expedition for me…it’s too much, Justinian. I won’t have that on my conscience.”
Juliette sighed with exasperation. “Why must he give it up? Can he not take his wife on the expedition with him?”
Bromwell shook his head. “I wouldn’t subject my wife to the deprivations and dangers.”
Drury tilted his head to one side and gave Bromwell his Death Stare. “Do you know, Buggy, there are times you sound remarkably like your father? How many times have you told me that he wouldn’t see you as an adult with the capacity to decide your own fate? What are you doing but taking the decision to choose her own fate out of Nell’s hands? Are you not treating her like a child rather than an adult?”
If someone had shot a cannon at Bromwell’s head, it would hardly have been more disturbing. Because Drury was right. He had never seen his urge to protect Nell in that arrogant light.
A sudden vision, previously unimaginable, came to him—of having his work as well as Nell for his wife, of facing the future, whatever it held, with her by his side, to love, to cherish and to comfort all the days of his life.
If she would only say yes.
Nell felt poised on a precipice between hope and dismay, longing and fulfillment. Even if Justinian loved her enough to marry her regardless of what society might think, if she couldn’t sail with him, she must hold firm and refuse to marry him in spite of the urgings of her heart. Too much could happen between the time he sailed and when he returned, and she would not have him bound to her under those conditions, no matter how much she loved him.
“The voyage will be dangerous and uncomfortable,” he said slowly, regarding her steadily, “and the ship cramped and the food terrible and there is always the threat of illness, but if you would like to marry me and come with me under those circumstances…?”
If she would like it? “Are you sure, Justinian?”
The look in his eyes alone would have been enough, and then he said, with all the conviction of complete truth, “Yes.”
“Yes!” she cried, throwing herself into his arms, laughing and crying at the same time, overwhelmed with joy and relief and hope and happiness. “Yes, I’ll marry you!”
He drew back and regarded her with his most studious expression. “You truly mean that? You will accept me?”
As if she was the one making concessions! “If you’ll really marry me in spite of my father’s crime and my lack of fortune and rank.”
His answer was a passionate kiss, until his father drew everyone’s attention away from the young and happy couple.
“Do you expect me to contribute the necessary funds to your expedition if you marry this…this woman?”
Bromwell regarded his father with calm acceptance. He should have realized his father’s support would be conditional, capricious and liable to be withdrawn if he was displeased.
However, he no longer cared, because Nell had agreed to marry him.
“If that’s how you choose to respond to my happiness, so be it,” he said evenly, his arms still around her. “I shall find other sponsors, as I did before. However, since Nell’s agreed to be my wife, nothing you or anyone else can say will deter me from marrying her.”
The countess rose, hands clasped, her expression desperate, and Bromwell feared he was about to hear more pleas to stay in England, especially if he had a wife.
“Frederic, you must provide the funds for his expedition, and especially whatever money they require to make their accommodation aboard ship more comfortable.”
Bromwell and everyone else in the room regarded her with incredulity, not just for what she said, but because of the firm tone with which she said it.
Lady Granshire went to her son and, taking his hand in hers, looked at him with tears running down her cheeks. “Naturally I would prefer that you stay in England, but it is finally clear to me how much this voyage means to you, and what it would mean if you didn’t sail.”
Taking one of Nell’s hands, too, she addressed her with a smile, although her lips trembled and her tears still flowed. “I’ll be a little less worried, though, knowing he has someone who loves him to look afte
r him.”
She drew in a ragged breath, then spoke to her son again with that unexpected resolve. “You must promise me, though, Justinian, that you’ll be even more careful, because you’ll be responsible for your wife as well as yourself.”
“You have my word that I’ll protect Nell with my life,” he vowed.
“And I shall do the same for him,” Nell added, equally sincere.
The countess embraced her, and Bromwell’s heart swelled not just with joy because he was going to get to spend the rest of his life married to Nell, but because his mother had come ’round—if not completely, at least to acceptance.
“My dear, surely you cannot countenance such a union!” her husband protested. “She is nothing, a nobody—worse than nobody, if her father—”
The countess whirled around to face her husband. “She is the woman your son loves—the son you’ve belittled and derided even after his great success.”
She walked up to her husband and poked him in the chest as she spoke. “You care more about your precious estate, this house and your blasted garden than you ever have for us. I’ve put up with that, and you, for thirty years for the sake of our marriage and our son, because I was afraid of gossip and scandal. But no more, Frederic. If you don’t accept this marriage, I shall leave you and reveal certain details of your life that will cause a scandal such as you have never even imagined!”
The earl blanched, but haughtily demanded, “What details?”
“There are certain books—illegal books—you keep hidden in the library, books of such a lewd nature, you should be ashamed to even touch them!”
Bromwell glanced at Nell, who raised a brow, wondering if this was the reading material he’d been referring to that wasn’t of a classical or scientific nature. His answering rueful grin told her that it was.
“You…you…know about…?” the earl spluttered, his face as red as his scarlet waistcoat.
“I believe, my love, that we should retire from this family gathering and await the butler’s summons to supper elsewhere,” Drury said, taking his wife’s hand and leading her, somewhat unwillingly, from the room.
“What sort of books are they talking about?” Juliette whispered as she gained the hall.
“I’ll explain when we’re alone,” Drury murmured as he closed the door behind them.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It has recently been brought to our notice that a certain Lord from the north has been arraigned on a charge of assault, as well as other crimes of such a nature that we shall refrain from disclosing them in their entirety lest we upset our female readers.
—The Bath Crier
By the time the door had closed, the earl had managed to recover some of his composure. “My dear wife, no doubt you’re overwrought, a condition not unexpected given the startling and shocking events of the day. I’m sure upon further reflection, you’ll see that I’m quite right to oppose a marriage that can only humiliate our son and cause him difficulties in the future.”
“You certainly ought to be an expert on humiliating our son,” his wife retorted. “You’ve been doing it for years, and heaven only knows how he might have turned out if not for my love and comfort.”
“For which I’m exceedingly grateful,” Bromwell interjected, hoping to end this distressing confrontation. “And if you truly wish to leave Father, Mother, I won’t question your decision.”
How could he, when her unhappiness, anger and resentment must have been building for years? “However, with regard to his reaction to my marriage and the withdrawal of his financial support, you may set yourself at ease. Nothing he says or does will deter me from marrying Nell, and I’m sure we’ll be able to sail with or without his help.”
In spite of that determination, he regarded his father with genuine, heartfelt sorrow. “I wish it could be otherwise, Father. I was happy and proud when you offered me the money without conditions, and enjoyed our journey back to Granshire when we talked like friends. I would that we could continue in such a way. But I won’t give up Nell because of your fears of what society will say, any more than I gave up going on my first expedition because you thought it the height of lunacy.
“The choice is yours, Father. Accept my wife or not as you will, but we shall marry and we will sail.”
Whatever Bromwell had expected his father to do, it wasn’t to walk slowly up to his wife and look at her with genuine distress. “You would really do that, Susanna? You would really leave me?”
“I would,” she said, her voice wavering a little. “You should be proud of our son and happy that he’s found a woman who loves him and isn’t after his money, or his title. How many young women do we know would refuse him because she thought it was best for him?”
The earl looked from his wife to his son and the woman standing anxiously beside him as if he’d never really seen Nell before. “I do want you to be happy, Justinian.”
He turned back to his wife. “I didn’t realize how much I was distressing you, Susanna. I will accept Justinian’s choice, and if he wants to sail off to some godforsaken…” He reined in his temper. “Whatever he wants to do, he’ll have my full support, both in good wishes and funds.”
“I’ll stay. Oh, Frederic, I’ll stay!” the countess cried, pulling him into her arms. “Although you must also get rid of those books.”
“Anything for you, my dear,” he replied, kissing her fervently.
Nell grabbed Bromwell’s arm and pulled him toward the door. “I think we should leave them alone for a little while.”
Fallingbrook, as stunned as Bromwell, was standing in the doorway. “Dinner is served,” he whispered as Nell closed the door behind them.
“Tell the cook dinner will have to be delayed a little while,” Nell told him. “You’ll find us in the garden.”
“Congratulate me, Fallingbrook!” Justinian said merrily. “I’m getting married.”
“Are you indeed, my lord?” the butler murmured absently, his gaze still on the closed door of the drawing room. “When might we meet the fortunate bride?”
The night of the Earl of Granshire’s hunt ball, Granshire Hall was ablaze with light from nearly a thousand candles. Music from the orchestra drifted from the ballroom into the rest of the house, and outside, several carriages lined the drive. Coachmen, footmen and linkboys clustered in small groups, occasionally quaffing mugs of mulled wine and ale brought to them from the kitchen.
Inside the manor, finely dressed men and women milled about, awaiting the start of the dancing. Torches had also been lit in the garden, and the night was warm enough that a few couples drifted to the terrace for a breath of fresh air or more intimate conversation.
Inside, near one of the French doors leading to the terrace, a group of three couples watched as the earl, his wife, his son and his son’s fiancée greeted the arriving guests.
Lady Francesca Smythe-Medway wore an evening gown of pale pink taffeta, the bodice trimmed with lace as was the hem, and she had diamonds in her ears and around her throat. Standing beside Fanny and dressed in deep blue satin with tight sleeves and sapphire earrings set in silver was Diana the wife of Viscount Adderley. Next to her was Juliette, in a fashionable concoction of Nile green that she had made herself, the bodice embroidered with golden leaves. Their husbands were much more plainly attired in black formal evening dress, but even so, they were the object of many admiring glances from other women, as their wives were the object of many men’s.
All of whom they ignored.
The Honorable Brixton Smythe-Medway, whose straw-colored hair defied the efforts of comb, brush and valet to lie flat, declared, “I’ve never seen Buggy looking so…so…”
His brow furrowed, Brix turned to his wife with a pleading look. “What’s the word I’m looking for?”
“Happy?” Fanny proposed.
“Heroic?” Diana supplied, her eyes twinkling.
“Triumphant?” suggested Edmond, Viscount Adderley.
“Successful in life an
d in love,” Drury said in a tone that implied the matter was settled.
“You’re all right,” Brix replied with a grin. “Good ol’ Buggy. I always knew he’d find the right woman someday. I just never expected it would be in a mail coach.”
“I daresay neither did he,” Edmond said. “Which goes to show we never know where we’ll be when Cupid aims his arrow.”
“Don’t go all poetic on us,” Brix warned. “I’m glad the earl has seen the light at last about Bromwell’s abilities, and his mother’s looking very pleased.”
“Who could not be pleased with Nell?” Juliette asked. “She’s a lovely girl. And see how she looks at Buggy! That is love.”
“See how every other young woman here is looking at him,” Brix said, waggling his brows. “Egad, he was popular before but he looks a very Adonis now. It’s a good thing Miss Springley snatched him up when she had the chance.”
His wife swatted Brix lightly with her fan. “I wouldn’t be speaking of missed opportunities, if I were you,” she warned.
Brix rubbed his arm as if she’d hurt him and put on an aggrieved face. “Yes, but I made no claim to being observant. How could I, when I couldn’t see the rose right under my nose?”
His wife smiled and stroked his arm with her fan.
“My dears, I tell you, it’s really true,” a woman noted in an excited whisper as a gaggle of women passed by, her voice audible as the orchestra took a short break to get out new music. “Not of the first rank, or indeed, any rank at all. And her father—”
As one, Bromwell’s friends turned to look at the speaker with varying degrees of scorn. The woman flushed and fell silent, then moved swiftly away, trailed by her equally silent companions.
“So it begins,” Edmond noted with a sigh.
They all looked serious for a moment, for each had been the subject of rumor, gossip and speculation.
“I find it fascinating that the faces of gossips possess the same bovine aspect,” Brix said, doing a very passable imitation of Buggy at his most studious. “It is easy, if one has a creative cast of mind, to imagine them as cows standing in a field chewing their cud.”
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