It Happened One Season

by Stephanie Laurens

  He found himself smiling at that heady realization when he heard the terrace doors open. His brother came to stand beside him.

  “Wretched weather,” Dearne said as he looked over the gardens below. “Dashed cool for this time of year. Haven’t had a full day of sunshine for months. Heard some crops are already suffering. It’s an odd thing, isn’t it?”

  “Very odd.”

  “Almost as odd as this damned foolish courtship of yours.”

  “There is nothing at all odd about it. Philippa is a perfectly fine young woman and I am lucky to have her.”

  “Balderdash,” Dearne said, his lips curling into a sneer. “I know about the ramshackle way this courtship came about. Eugenia told me—”

  “Damn her, she was not supposed to—”

  “—and I must say it is a very odd business indeed. What the devil were you thinking, Nat? Oh, I know you hated the idea of diving into the Season and the marriage mart, but I thought you understood why it was necessary.”

  “Of course I understood. You told me often enough.”

  “I can only assume that you did not, in fact, understand. I must say I am not entirely surprised that you cooked up a convenient bargain with a perfect stranger in order to avoid the marriage mart. But she is a cripple, Nat! How could you have been so stupid? Did you not know she was a cripple? Did she somehow hide it from you until an agreement was made, and then you felt obliged to go along with it?”

  “God’s teeth, Frederick, you can be such an ass. Of course I knew about her lameness. It doesn’t matter to me. What the hell does it matter to you? Are you ashamed to think of a woman with a limp one day being the Countess of Dearne? If that is all that worries you, then I don’t see the problem. If she becomes the countess, it means that you, dear brother, will have passed on to your heavenly reward. So I don’t see that it should make any difference to you whether or not the new Lady Dearne walks with a limp. You won’t be around to be offended by it.”

  “Now who is being an ass? You know very well it is more than that.”

  “I do not know. Perhaps you had better explain it to me. I’m only an ignorant soldier without any social skills or ready repartee. There must be something in your meaning that is too subtle for the likes of me.”

  “Don’t be patronizing. You know precisely what I mean. My request was that you marry and set up your nursery. It is all about an heir, as you well know.”

  “And? I still see no problem.”

  “By God, you really are thick, aren’t you? Or do you deliberately misunderstand? We need an heir. You need a wife who can give us one. Miss Reynolds is a cripple. Her mother says she has been disabled since birth with a displaced hip. Her pelvis is bent. Do you really think a woman in her condition could bear a child?”

  “I have no idea.” Nat had not even given it a thought. Dearne might be right, for all he knew. But he didn’t care. And the fact that his brother would even broach the subject made him seethe. Anger roiled in his belly so that he could hardly breathe.

  “No, and that is the point, isn’t it?” Dearne said. “We don’t know, but the possibility that she cannot conceive or deliver a child must be considered. It is best, Nat, for you to turn your attentions elsewhere. There has been no formal betrothal, as I understand. Sever the connection now before it is too late. You must find another, more suitable bride. That is why the other young ladies were invited here. I thought one of them might pique your interest. Either Lady Camilla or Lady Serena would be a far better choice than a cripple.”

  Philippa pressed a hand to her mouth and turned away from the terrace doors before they could see her. Her heart plummeted to her toes. All the joy she had been feeling today drained out of her. She stood with her back against the wall adjacent to the doors, empty and bereft.

  She moved slowly away, skirting the large drawing room where most of the other guests were gathered. As she made her way up the stairs to her bedchamber, Lillian was coming down. She stopped and her eyes widened with anxiety.

  “What is it, Philippa? Are you unwell? May I help you to your room?”

  “No, I am fine, Lillian. A bit tired, that is all. Will you do me a favor, though? Will you find Sophie and send her to me?”

  “Yes, of course. Shall I ask her to bring something? Tea, or a posset?”

  “No, thank you. I just want to go to bed early and would like her help.”

  “All right. I’ll have her sent right up. You are sure nothing is wrong?”

  “Quite sure, thank you. Good night, my friend.”

  When Philippa reached her bedchamber, she sat on the bed and tried to bring her racing thoughts in order. What Lord Dearne said might be true. She did not know if she could conceive—no woman knew that for sure—but her bent pelvis might indeed be an impediment to conception or delivery. And she had been wrong not to consider it.

  When she first met Nat, he said he had to marry and sire an heir because Lady Dearne was no longer able to have children. It was the one and only reason he had set out to find a bride. Her own ability to have children ought to have been a foremost concern. She ought to have denied his offer on those grounds alone. But she hadn’t thought to do so.

  She hadn’t thought.

  She’d been captivated by a handsome soldier who treated her as she’d always wished to be treated. Nothing else had mattered.

  How unutterably selfish.

  Lord Dearne was right. It was not too late to back out of their bargain. Nat was too honorable to do the right thing. It was up to Philippa to make this right.

  The bedchamber door opened and her maid, Sophie, stepped in. She bobbed a curtsy and said, “Can I help you get ready for bed, Miss?”

  “Not just yet, Sophie. First, I’d like to get my things together so that we can leave in the morning.”

  “Tomorrow? But the party is to last another two days.”

  “I know. But I find I must leave early. Will you help me to pack?”

  Nat stood over his brother, who was sprawled on the hard terrace floor with blood streaming from a nostril. “If you say one more word against Philippa, I will plant you another facer. And another and another until you are a bleeding pulp.”

  “Good God, man.” Dearne rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, apparently stunned to find blood on it. “I think you have broken it. Have you gone mad?”

  “No, I am sane enough to know that you have insulted the woman I intend to marry, and I will not have it, do you hear me? You will not speak of her like that ever again if you value your life. I learned how to fight in the army, not only with swords and guns but with my fists. And I have ten years on you, old man, so there is no hope you could best me. But if you persist in this nonsense about Philippa and an heir, I will fight you.”

  “Egad, Nat, be reasonable. It’s important that we have an heir. You know that.”

  “We have an heir. Let odious Cousin Leonard have the damned title. I no longer care.”

  Dearne awkwardly got to his feet, still a bit unsteady. “You do not mean it. The girl has bewitched you somehow.”

  “She has done more than that. She has given me reason to live for the first time in a very long time. I will marry her, Frederick. You cannot stop me. If we are able to have children, fine. If not, I really don’t care.”

  Dearne glared at him, rubbing his nose. “My God, you are in love with her.”

  Nat smiled. “Yes, I am, much to my surprise. I thought I had no love in me, but she proved me wrong.”

  “Hmph. I guess there is nothing more to be said.”

  “Nothing at all.” And Nat walked through the terrace doors to find Philippa.

  “Shall I put the blue sarsnet carriage dress out for tomorrow?”

  “Yes, thank you, Sophie. And don’t forget—”

  “May I come in?”

  The familiar voice sent a flush of anxiety to Philippa’s cheeks. She was not ready to see him yet, but this meeting would have to happen sooner or later. “Of course, Captain, co
me in.”

  He stepped inside, looked around at the clothes strewn about and the open bandboxes, and scowled. Looking to Sophie, he said, “Would you excuse us, please?”

  The young maid looked to Philippa for direction, and upon receiving her nod, left the room, leaving the door conspicuously ajar. Nat reached behind him and shut it.

  “I understand you are leaving,” he said, his gray eyes hard and flat as flint.

  Philippa nodded, unable to form the right words yet.

  “Were you going to say anything to me first,” he asked, “or did you plan to sneak away and leave me wondering what the hell happened?”

  “I was going to speak with you after we were finished packing.” She could not control the trembling in her voice.

  “Speak to me now. Why are you leaving, Philippa? I thought after yesterday that things were settled between us.”

  “No, we are not yet formally betrothed, and I think it best that we not be.” The words felt like shards in her throat.

  Nat’s eyes darkened with anger. “The devil you say. Have you forgotten how you melted in my arms during that rainstorm?”

  “No.” She would never forget it.

  “Well, if that doesn’t matter to you,” his sharp tone sliced through the air like a blade, “you might consider that you could be carrying my child.”

  “But I might not,” she said, pleading with her eyes for him to understand. “And that is the point. You need someone who can give you an heir and I do not know if I can.”

  Nat let out a string of curses that made her ears burn. “Has my brother said something to you? Is that what this is all about?”

  “I overheard what he said to you. And he is right. What if I cannot conceive? Or if I can, what if my body will not allow me to deliver a child? My pelvis is crooked, after all.”

  “To hell with your damnable crooked pelvis. I don’t care if you are able to give me a child or not. I want you regardless. You, Philippa.”

  “But wasn’t that the point of this marriage of convenience we set out to do? To produce an heir to the earldom that Lady Dearne was not able to do?”

  “Yes, dammit, that was the point, initially, but it no longer matters to me.”

  “Why? You still need an heir.”

  “I have one. Our cousin Leonard will inherit the earldom after me, and he is welcome to it.”

  “I thought you both hated him.”

  “We do. He is a nitwit of the first order and an embarrassment to the family. Yes, I hate him, but I love you more.”

  “What?” Had she heard right? Oh, God, she hoped so. Her heart swelled in her chest.

  He came and took her in his arms. “I love you, Philippa. You have brought joy back into my life. You have helped me to cope with what happened at Waterloo, to learn to accept that I was affected, but not to let it rule my life. My nightmares are less frequent, and will likely disappear eventually. I still jump at loud noises, but that will get better, too, I suspect. And it’s all because of you, Philippa. I need you. I love you. I want to marry you whether or not you can provide an heir. My brother can go to hell, and so I told him. After I bloodied his nose.”

  “You hit him?”

  “Of course I did. He insulted the woman I love. Will you still have me, Philippa, bad bargain that I am? Will you marry me?”

  “You are an excellent bargain, Captain. The best I ever made. I shall be honored to marry you. I love you.”

  “Then let us be properly betrothed. And dance at our engagement ball.”

  “Dance? Me? You must be in love, you foolish man, if you think I can do that.”

  “You can do anything you set your mind to, my love.”

  “At the moment, I have a mind to kiss you.”

  “Then do it, girl.”

  She reached up and pulled his head down to hers, and kissed him with all the passion and desire and joy of a woman in love.

  An invitation to the Reynolds-Beckwith betrothal ball was one of the most coveted of the Season. Half the ton was in attendance, still fascinated by one of the Season’s oddest matches. Lady Thorpe had done a splendid job decorating the ballroom. At the future bridegroom’s request, there was a full-sized orange tree in a Versailles box placed in each corner, and their sweet fragrance filled the air. The trees seemed to have some special meaning to the betrothed couple, as they laughed each time they happened to glance at one of them.

  Miss Reynolds looked lovely in a gown of pink tissue gauze over white satin, while the groom looked handsome in a blue velvet tailcoat and frilled shirt. Most startling of all was the uncharacteristic broad smile the groom wore, so unlike his usual dour demeanor. Those scandalmongers among the guests were forced to admit that there would not, after all, be a sad scene, where the couple parted ways. They had been wrong about this curious pair. The happiness in their faces could not be denied.

  The happy couple left the receiving line before the first dance began. Nat pulled Philippa behind one of the orange trees where a small bench had been hidden just for them. “I have a betrothal present for you,” he said. “However, I am afraid it did not seem quite the thing to bring her into the ballroom tonight.”

  “Her?”

  “A pretty little chestnut mare. She is a beauty, my love, almost the same color as your hair. And she is spirited enough to give you a good ride without tossing you arse over ears.”

  “Oh, Nat, how wonderful. My own horse! What is her name?”

  “She is called Thalia. And you will look splendid on her, in one of your jaunty habits. We shall ride like the wind together, side by side. And you shall have that lovely pink glow you get whenever you exert yourself.” His heated gaze hinted at other exertions. She felt her cheeks warm, and his smile widened.

  “Shall we try her out with a ride in the park tomorrow morning?” he asked.

  “I think not. My mornings have become a bit difficult this past week or so.”

  Nat grabbed her arm. “Why is that?” Anxiety gathered in his eyes. “Are you ill? Have I pushed you too far?”

  Philippa shook her head and smiled. “I did not want to say anything until I was more certain, but I think, Captain, that we have proven your brother wrong.”

  He looked confused, and then his eyes grew large as her meaning apparently became clear to him. “Philippa? My love? Are you saying what I think you are saying?”

  “We have made a child, Nat. The mad soldier and the lame lady have made a child together. Is it not wonderful?”

  He gathered her in his arms and kissed her, oblivious to who might see them. “I am the most fortunate of men. Whatever did I do to deserve such happiness? I will take care of you, my love. I want no risks with your health. Or the child’s.”

  “Not too much cotton wool, I beg you. But a bit of coddling for this reason would be lovely.”

  He rose and lifted her to her feet. “Come, my dear,” Nat said as he offered Philippa his arm. “The opening set is about to begin, and we have much to celebrate.”

  She smiled, perfectly happy to watch others dance in celebration of their betrothal.

  “I have requested a waltz,” he said.

  She raised her brows in question. “A waltz? But a line dance or march usually opens a ball. Certainly not a waltz.”

  “Now that we have completed this infernal Season and are officially engaged, I no longer feel compelled to follow the confounded Rules. I want a waltz, and we shall have it.”

  Philippa grinned. “All right, then, my captain. It shall be as you command.”

  But Nat did not lead her to a chair along the edge of the room where they might watch the dancers. Instead, he led her to the center of the dance floor.

  A knot of pure panic coiled in Philippa’s stomach. “What are you doing?”

  “I am going to dance with my betrothed and the mother of my child at our ball.”

  “Oh, Nat. I don’t know if I can.”

  “Of course you can. I want to dance with you, Philippa. And I want you to
have this dance. Just follow my lead. We can do it.”

  Her heart melted with love for him. She did not care how clumsy she would look. She was going to dance with Nat, and it would be wonderful.

  “Oh, but Nat. I do not have permission to waltz.”

  “You have my permission. That is all you need.”

  She squeezed his arm and laughed with pure glee. “And to hell with the Rules!”

  “To hell with the Rules. That, my love, shall be the guiding principle of our life together.”

  Other couples stepped back when they saw the betrothed couple take the floor. Silence fell as everyone watched, agog that the lame girl was going to dance. The scandalmongers fizzed with excitement. There might yet be a frightful scene to report.

  The couple smiled at each other as the music began. Miss Reynolds positively glowed as Captain Beckwith skillfully compensated for her limp, dipping and bending his body to accommodate her awkward movements, holding her tightly aloft on one foot as he twirled her across the floor. They were not the most elegant or graceful couple ever seen on a dance floor, but they were certainly the happiest.

  The sound of applause and cheers filled the room as they danced.

  Epilogue

  Her eyes are so blue.” Philippa held their tiny daughter on her lap, still in awe of her perfection. There had been no mishap during the birth, like the one that had displaced Philippa’s hip. Little Charlotte Beckwith had all her fingers and toes, hair so blond it was almost white, and the bluest eyes her mother had ever seen. “I wonder if they will lighten over time and become more gray, like yours.”

  “I like them just the way they are,” Nat said, gazing fondly at his wife and daughter. “She is a beauty, isn’t she? Lord, how will I bear it when she grows up and worthless young swains lie in smitten heaps on the entry steps? How will I ever be able to let her go?”

  “With the reluctance of any doting father. But that won’t be for a long, long time, long enough for you to become accustomed to the idea. Oh, Nat, I still find it so hard to believe. I spent my whole life believing I could never have any of this. A husband I adore, and a family of my own. It’s a miracle.”