Fiona had laughed with him, thanked him for his time and promptly taken her leave. Before the impact of his revelation could hit her and tear out her heart.
Was this the deception Judith had mentioned? That Jonathon had never planned on printing more than a handful of A Fair Surrender in the first place? And if that was indeed true, how on earth could it provide the money she’d needed? Money that would come through Jonathon allegedly to preserve her anonymity.
I shall give you the money you would receive if you married. All of it. In advance, if you will, of sales of the book.
Or perhaps come from him?
I feel a certain obligation to help you avoid the fate you so very much wish to avoid.
A heavy weight settled in her stomach.
You asked for rescue and I did not provide it. I have long thought of myself as an honorable man and I am not proud of my refusal.
The back of her throat stung with realization. How far would an honorable man go to assuage his guilt? To redeem himself in his own eyes?
I shall have to marry you now.
Fiona had long said she’d never force any man into marriage. Not out of honor or obligation or responsibility. She’d said it and she’d meant it.
Now it was time to live up to her word.
“Where on earth can she be, Oliver?” Jonathon paced across Oliver’s parlor with one eye on the mantel clock. “I’ve been here nearly half an hour and no one seems to know where she has gone.”
Oliver shrugged. “I wish I could tell you, old man, but I have no idea. If you haven’t noticed thus far, my cousin has a mind of her own.” He studied the other man carefully. “I’m not at all surprised she managed to slip out of the house without anyone noting her departure.”
“Yes, yes, she’s quite skilled at doing precisely what she wants,” Jonathon said under his breath, ignoring the fact that it was that exact quality that had enabled Fiona to leave in the early morning hours to come to him. And, as Oliver had not met him at the door with a pistol in one hand and a minister by his side, Jonathon had assumed Fiona had managed to return home as surreptitiously as she had left. Not that it really mattered now. Jonathon paused and looked at his friend. “I wish to marry her, you know.”
“I assumed that, given the way you’ve not been able to stand still for more than a moment since your arrival. You have the look of a man about to jump off a cliff.” Oliver grinned. “It’s about time. I wondered what was taking you so long.”
Jonathon raised a brow. “You couldn’t have known it would come to this?”
“Oh, but I did. In truth, I never doubted it. After all, you had always said when you found the perfect woman—”
Jonathon snorted. “She is far from perfect. She is stubborn and determined and irritating. In many ways, she has no sense of propriety. Nude drawings of men, indeed. She’s extremely flirtatious and outspoken and…” He blew a long breath. “And she is indeed perfect for me. Exactly what I have always wanted in a wife.”
“It won’t be easy, you know. Having Fiona as a wife.”
“I don’t expect easy. I expect”—Jonathon smiled wryly—“passion. Hers and, yes, mine. Grand and glorious and forever.”
Oliver stared for a long moment.
“What now?” Jonathon rolled his gaze toward the ceiling.
“I’m simply thinking what a lot of money I could have made had I had the foresight to make one simple wager.” Oliver shook his head mournfully. “One should always follow one’s first instincts.”
“You could have taken Cavendish and Warton for a great deal,” Jonathon said in a dry manner. “My condolences that you did not do so.”
“Don’t be absurd. Neither of them would have wagered with me on this.” Oliver grinned. “The wager would have been with you.”
“So much for the loyalty of friends,” Jonathon muttered.
Oliver laughed and Jonathon smiled reluctantly. It was good to have friends, those he could count on no matter what might befall him.
A low murmur of voices sounded in the foyer.
“I believe that’s your intended now. Well, this is it.” Oliver slapped Jonathon on the back. “Best wishes, old man, and welcome to the family.”
Jonathon huffed. “You find this all most amusing, don’t you?”
“Only because it is.” Oliver chuckled and strode to the door. “I shall be in the foyer, awaiting the happy announcement of your betrothal.”
Jonathon patted his coat pocket as he had done a dozen times since he’d left his house to make certain his grandmother’s ring was still securely in its jeweler’s box. His heart thudded in his chest. Should he get down on one knee? Certainly a romantic gesture of some sort was called for. Damnation, why hadn’t he thought to bring flowers? Or chocolates? Or something? He groaned to himself. He simply hadn’t thought of anything beyond his express purpose. He was well used to charming a woman, but never with the intention of marriage. Bloody hell, he was an idiot. Again.
The voices in the hall sounded louder. Surely Oliver wasn’t chastising Fiona for her absence? Jonathon chuckled. She would not take that at all well.
Fiona swept into the room, then stopped and slammed the door behind her. Jonathon winced. He certainly wouldn’t wish to be in Oliver’s shoes at the moment.
He adopted his most charming smile. “Good day, Fiona.”
“Lord Helmsley.” Her voice was cool. Blast Oliver anyway for putting her in such a foul mood. Well, Jonathon knew one sure way to improve her disposition.
He drew a deep breath. “Fiona, I wish to ask you a question.”
“What a startling coincidence, my lord, as I wish to ask a question as well.” Her green eyes glittered. “Several questions, in fact.”
“They can wait. Fiona…” His nerve faltered. He waved at the sofa. “Perhaps you would like to sit down?”
“I prefer to stand,” she said sharply.
“Very well.” He laughed weakly. “But it’s going to make things a bit awkward when I am down on bended knee.”
She raised a brow. “And you will be on bended knee to beg my forgiveness?”
“No,” he said slowly. Perhaps Oliver wasn’t the target of her anger after all. “My intention was to ask if you will do me the honor of becoming my wife.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
“Why?” He stared at her. No, Oliver definitely wasn’t the target of her anger. “After this morning—”
“This morning?”
“Yes, well, after you and I…” He shook his head in confusion. “Damn it all, Fiona, you know what I am trying to say.”
“Do I? I’m not the least bit sure of that.” She studied him coldly. “Allow me to ask you a question.”
“Of course.” He racked his brains trying to think of what he might have done to invoke her wrath. Certainly when she’d left him this morning there had been nothing amiss. In fact, everything was quite wonderful between them. Or at least he’d thought it was.
“Tell me, my lord, do you take your responsibilities, obligations, honor, the giving of your word seriously?”
“Of course,” he said staunchly.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “And would you take whatever steps necessary, do whatever was required, to meet those obligations and responsibilities and so forth?”
“Absolutely.” What was she getting at?
“No matter how difficult it proved? How much, oh, I don’t know, deception was involved? How much sacrifice was needed?” Her voice hardened. “How much it cost?”
“Yes, I suppose.” None of this made any sense whatsoever. Judging from the look in her eye, it had something to do with whatever had upset her. And it was not going to be good. He searched his conscience. It was relatively blameless.
“Did you ever intend to sell copies of A Fair Surrender, or was it all simply a ploy?”
His stomach plummeted. “A ploy?”
“To allow you to surreptitiously provide me funding so that I was not f
orced into marriage? And were you planning to continue the deception until such time as I married and received my inheritance?” Her voice rose. “And was all this because you agreed to marry me, then felt responsible for my fate when you reneged?”
He braced himself. “Fiona—”
“Answer the question, if you please,” she snapped.
He paused. “Which question?”
“Pick one!”
“Very well.” It really wasn’t that bad, at least not from his perspective. And he had fully intended to confess all to her at some point. Not now, of course, and possibly not for years. Still, it might be better to get it over with. Deception was not the best way to start their lives together. Besides, what difference did it make now?
He blew a resigned breath. “I never planned to sell copies of A Fair Surrender, although I must admit, I am quite pleased with the end result.”
She glared.
“Scarcely matters now, I suppose,” he said under his breath. “Aside from the scandal if the identity of Anonymous was discovered, you were right all along about the amount of money such an enterprise would generate. It would take years to make even a fraction of what you needed. I did indeed intend to provide you with funds to keep you from an unwanted marriage and to continue to do so for as long as was necessary. And yes, I concocted this scheme because I felt a certain responsibility toward you.”
“And now?”
“Now…what?” he said cautiously.
“What is your plan now?”
“Now?” Relief washed through him. If she was asking about now, it surely wasn’t too late. “Now I wish to marry you.”
“Because of what happened between us this morning?”
“No. Yes.” There was no good way to answer this. “In part, I suppose.”
“Because you feel obligated?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Because I want to marry you.”
“And I am to believe you because you have always been so honest with me about your motives?”
“No.” He clenched his jaw. “You’re supposed to believe me because it’s the truth.”
“Ha! I’m not sure you would recognize the truth if it slapped you across the face!”
“I would,” he said indignantly, then realized how stupid that sounded. Nonetheless, he was a bit angry now himself. “I did what I thought best at the time, Fiona. I couldn’t simply abandon you to your fate. Yes, I felt a certain responsibility and an obligation to you. It was not your fault that I was not sincere when I agreed to marry you. But once the error was recognized, what would you have had me do?”
“You could have agreed to marry me and meant it!”
“But I want to marry you now! Doesn’t that mean anything?”
“No! Not now. It’s too late. You’re too late.” She ticked the points off on her finger. “You lied to me. You deceived me—”
“I did it for you!”
“Hardly! You tried to shape my life, my future, exactly as my father did. However, he truly believed his actions were in my best interests. Your actions were to alleviate your own sense of guilt for not being my salvation!” She drew a deep breath and met his gaze. Her voice was abruptly calm. It did not bode well. “I told you I would never force a man to marry me. I see little difference between forcing a man into marriage because of an indiscretion and marrying a man because I am a responsibility or an obligation.”
His breath caught. “What are you saying?”
“What I am saying is that as much as I do appreciate your assistance, our association is at an end.” Her voice was polite, formal, and struck fear into his heart. “I too have responsibilities and obligations, and I cannot meet them with lies and deception.”
“Fiona—”
She clasped her hands in front of her in a prim, no-nonsense manner. As if the topic was no longer a subject of debate. “I shall adhere to my father’s wishes and marry the man he chose for me.”
He stared in disbelief. “You can’t.”
“Oh, but I can. And I shall.”
“I will not allow it,” he said staunchly, although he had no idea how to stop it.
She snorted in disdain. “You have nothing to say about it. Furthermore, you may consider any obligation you have to me discharged. However, I should offer my congratulations.”
He was afraid to ask. “Why?”
“As I will not force you into marriage, you have won our wager.”
His brows drew together. “What wager?”
“My virtue against your freedom.”
“My freedom…” At once he remembered the wager discussed in a frivolous moment and shook his head. “I certainly never meant…why, it was not at all serious, nothing more than a joke—”
“I am weary of jokes!” Her voice rang with frustration. “Pranks, hoaxes, all of it! I am no longer amused!”
“I—”
“Whether it was a joke or not, you have won your freedom and I have lost what I wagered. If this were…”—she searched for the right word—“a myth there would be some great lesson here as to the origins of the universe or the beginning of the world. There would be a parallel between you and I and nature, but there isn’t. I thought, when Oliver first suggested your name, that it was fate. It had to be. Surely it was more than coincidence that Oliver would name the one man in the world who once claimed my affection—”
“What?” His brows drew together.
She waved away his question. “I saw you years ago at an Effington Christmas Ball. I was scarcely more than a child and I thought you were the most wonderful man I’d ever seen. I even noted your rendezvous in the library with a lady.”
He blew a long breath. “I see.”
“I have long wondered what it would be like to be the lady in the library on Christmas Eve with you. I’ve wondered as well what it would be like to be the lady in question the day after the evening in the library.” She smiled a humorless smile. “Now I know.”
“It sounds like fate to me,” he said quietly.
“Unless one is writing a myth or some other work of fiction, there is no such thing as fate or destiny. There is only life and what we make of it.” She heaved a weary sigh, as if she were suddenly too tired to go on. “I think it would be best if you go now.”
He didn’t know what to say, what to do. He’d never felt so helpless in his entire life. A sense of panic rose within him and he pushed it away. “May I ask you a question first?”
She hesitated then nodded. “One.”
“You said I once claimed your affection—”
“It was a long time ago and I was—”
“It’s my question, Miss Fairchild, allow me to ask it,” he said firmly. His gaze trapped hers. “Once, you felt some affection for me. Do you love me now?”
She stared at him for a long moment. “That is entirely too personal, my lord.”
“Perhaps it is.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Good day, Miss Fairchild.” He turned and strode out of the room.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Oliver waiting in the foyer.
“Jonathon,” Oliver called after him.
Jonathon ignored him and stalked to the front door. It opened for him at once thanks to a well-trained footman, otherwise he would have been compelled to kick the door down. He felt like kicking something at the moment. Once more he found himself walking the streets.
Fiona had every right to be angry with him. He deserved her anger and probably more. And perhaps claiming he did it for her was not the wisest thing to say. And yes, there had been some deception and, technically, a lie or two. But damn it all, he loved her. He wanted to marry her. He had felt a certain sense of responsibility and obligation in the beginning, but everything had changed since then.
He just had to convince her of that and he had to do it before she married Whatshisname and he lost her forever. It would not be easy. But now that he had found Fiona and love and passion and God knows what else that lay in the pit of his stomach and m
uddled his mind and made him behave like a total idiot, he was not about to give her up. He’d never especially believed in fate, but he did now, and if there was ever one woman meant for him it was Fiona Fairchild.
He had retreated, but only for the moment. Of course, he had no idea what to do now. Still, he had no intention of giving up, not as long as there was hope. And there was indeed hope.
Fiona hadn’t said the words aloud when he’d asked if she loved him.
But surely the answer was in her eyes.
Chapter Fifteen
Two days later, an eternity if one is in the throes of having lost the one true love of one’s life, yet not any significant time at all if one is attempting to come up with a brilliant plan to reclaim the heart of the aforementioned true love…
Belle shut the door of the girls’ parlor, flattened her back against it and announced in an overly dramatic tone, “He’s here.”
Fiona’s breath caught. At last. She pushed the traitorous thought aside. It had been two endless days since she’d told Jonathon she was going to comply with her father’s wishes. Two days in which to think long and hard about his actions and her life.
As much as she longed to do so, there was no getting around the fact that Jonathon had deceived her. He had done so in a grand manner and at no little cost, but he had deceived her nonetheless. And he had not done so out of affection or true concern for her future, but because he thought he had owed it to her. She was an obligation to him, no more important than a bill due to a merchant.
He had made no effort up to this point to change her mind. There had been no outrageous display of roses, no notes of apologies, no anything. Yet he had said he wished to marry her. And surely, upon reflection, that could not entirely be due to any sense of obligation. Still, he had never mentioned love. And there had been no word from him.
Deception was no way to begin a life together. But he was here now and that had to be significant. Perhaps he too had spent these last days deep in thought. Perhaps he had come to the conclusion that he should not give her up without a fight. And perhaps…
Let It Be Love Page 27
