Those hormones.
Moving awkwardly to the beat, he made sure to keep an arm’s length between them, avoiding touching.
Unfortunately, not nearly close enough to clue anyone else in that they danced together.
Bunny Warren collared him to discuss the Cambridge job offer, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Listening to Bunny ramble was not his idea of a good time, ever, even less so when it interrupted his dance with Beth.
But Bunny’s father headed the Science Department. This was a networking opportunity he couldn’t afford to ignore.
“Sorry, next dance,” he mouthed to Beth.
But the music changed, then changed again. Bunny kept rabbiting on, not seeming to need any answer beyond the occasional nod. All the man wanted was an audience. The nickname given him at university had as much to do with his unending stream of monologue as his last name.
Beth stood beside him for a while, squeezed his hand with a weak smile, then drifted away.
Trying not to make his lack of interest in the conversation too obvious, James’s gaze followed Beth as she headed toward the door. As soon as he could, he’d follow.
A familiar figure blocked her progress.
His mother.
No.
No no no.
The Honorable Portia Tetherton-Hart wearing her most condescending ‘I’m the granddaughter of an Earl and don’t you forget it’ nose in the air look, had managed to corner Beth.
Living proof that good breeding and good manners didn’t always correlate. His mother’s life seemed a mission to reinforce her superiority in the minds of everyone she met.
Everything he loved about Beth meant nothing to her. The only things she valued were money, and aristocratic blood-lines.
What on earth was she doing here?
They stood too far away for him to hear the conversation over the party noise, but chances were, it wouldn’t be good. He had to rescue Beth from his mother.
A momentary break in Bunny’s flow of words gave him an opportunity.
“Sorry, Bun, I need to find my partner —”
But Bunny foiled his attempt to excuse himself, not only talking over the top of him, but grabbing his arm and holding him there. The only way to break away would have been to physically detach Bunny’s grip.
Standing by and watching as his mother almost certainly dripped her patented version of honeyed venom onto Beth broke something in him. When she flinched away, politeness flew out the window.
No matter how important a contact Bunny was, Beth counted more.
“Bun, we’ll have to catch up another time.” He jerked his arm free, then hurried toward Beth and his mother.
Beth gazed up at him with mingled relief and anger as he reached her side and slid a protective arm around her. Her posture straightened, and her chin lifted as she turned to face his mother.
His mother’s expression held cold disapproval, as usual, but the commandment to honour one’s parents demanded he at least speak politely to her before hustling Beth away.
“Mother. Nice to see you again. I thought you’d gone to The Gambia. Beaches not up to scratch?”
That won a sour twist of the lips. “The weather was awful. Rain, every day. No-one warned me about the wet season. Totally unsuitable.”
Her narrow-eyed stare at Beth suggested the words didn’t only apply to the weather. She went on the attack.
“You haven’t lost your plebeian tastes, I notice. You can always be relied upon to lower the tone, James, with your working class associates.” The words held all the distaste thirty generations of rank and privilege could produce.
His fists balled. As with Immy, he’d ignore her insulting him. He’d had plenty of practice. But Beth was off limits.
Without giving him a chance to reply, she sniffed, as if she’d smelled something bad, and continued.
“And please explain why you’re wearing those outlandish costumes. I wouldn’t expect a housemaid to know what to wear to a wedding such as this, of course. But I though you would.”
As always, her barely veiled disdain stung. He should be used to it by now.
“You’ll have to ask Immy that.” He smiled. “If you’ll excuse me, we’re leaving now. I’m sure I’ll meet you again while you’re in London.”
“Imogen is a girl of impeccable breeding. You should have married her, instead of chasing after nobodies.”
His arm around Beth tightened. Before he came up with a suitable reply, she cut in.
“James cares about the person, not the pedigree. You should be proud to have raised such an honourable man, Mrs Hart.”
They turned as one and walked away.
Once they were outside the room, he gave way to the suppressed laughter that shook him. “I shouldn’t laugh, but you managed her beautifully. Calling her Mrs Hart. I never guessed you had it in you.”
Beth’s face reddened and her eyes burned. “Don’t laugh at me, James. I’ve had more than enough humiliation for one night. I’m leaving, now.”
Spinning on one heel, she took off for the exit, without a backward glance to see if he followed.
He wanted to call after her, chase her to the train. Thank her for standing up to his mother, something he had never done. Shake some sense into her so she’d forget those idiot ideas she wasn’t good enough. Tell her that he loved her.
But the events of the evening left him bewildered. Beth’s emotions swung like a pendulum and he couldn’t keep up.
No wonder he’d kept to his lab and his research for so long.
He let her leave. If she loved him, she’d stay.
Chapter 14
Sleep must have come at some stage during the night. Reaching to silence the buzzing reminder alarm she’d set to her phone, Beth’s body ached with fatigue and heartbreak.
Arranging to get up early to see a house for sale before going to work now seemed like a very bad idea. The house felt like an old worn out dream.
The temptation to hit the snooze button and go back to sleep was strong. The temptation to pull the quilt over her head and never come out was stronger.
All she felt was numb.
As if instead of having a tooth extracted, her heart had been extracted, leaving a great big hole where it used to be. It didn’t hurt yet, because the local anaesthetic still deadened the pain. But later, once the feeling came back, the hole would hurt.
A lot.
Hopefully, she’d get through the work day before that happened.
Hard to raise any sense of anticipation for the viewing.
Only the fact that Candy had done this as a special favour to her before the house officially went on the market dragged her out of bed and to the estate agents office. She couldn’t let the agent down by cancelling the viewing. Plus, if the house was any good, it would sell within a week.
She’d lost James all over again, she didn’t want to lose her chance of a home of her own as well. Places in her price range came on the market so rarely. Nice places in her price range, never.
Candy bubbled with how great the house was for the price, the whole way there in the car. This time last week, she’d have shared the estate agent’s enthusiasm. Now, it seemed so pointless.
A house was nothing but an empty shell without love.
Her attention perked up the tiniest bit as the car turned into a pretty village. Past a tiny old stone church, the village green, and along a High Street lined with quirky crooked buildings.
Waving her arms as she drove, in a way that was the teensiest worrying on such narrow winding streets, Candy enthused about the village. How thanks to a bus service to the train station, being out here in the peace and quiet of the countryside might only add twenty minutes to Beth’s daily commute.
It seemed too perfect. There had to be a mistake. A village like this would be way outside her price range.
Maybe someone left a zero off the end of the price.
“How much did you say the asking price is again?”
/>
Candy named the same price she had before. The mortgage payments were a stretch, but doable.
They turned down a network of narrow lanes and pulled up outside a terraced row of small, low-roofed homes.
“It’s the middle one, with the blue door. Seventeenth century farm worker’s housing.” Candy down at the information she’d pulled up on her tablet.
Beth suppressed a gasp. From the outside, it looked adorable, all crooked angles and small-paned windows. Of course, she had to see the inside yet.
But her misery over James lifted, just a little.
“It does need a little work inside,” the agent continued. “The older man who lived here didn’t care much for luxuries like carpets or central heating.”
She unlocked the front door with a huge old-fashioned key. “Good thing you aren’t too tall. People were shorter when this place was built.”
They stepped straight into the main room. No entrance hall. Hideous peeling wallpaper. Ugly matt black paint on the wooden floorboards.
But the low ceiling had original timber beams. There was an open fireplace, with a brick surround and a six inch thick shelf that looked like it had been carved from a whole log topping it as mantlepiece.
And they might be painted all wrong, but wooden floorboards!
With the wallpaper stripped and the walls painted in a soft milk paint and pretty curtains at the window, the room could be amazing. Rustic chic, but the rough edges would stop it being too chichi.
Candy showed her through into the kitchen, apologising that there was only cold water. But Beth saw the flagstoned floor and the ceramic butler’s sink and the half-glassed stable door opening into a sun porch and a tiny courtyard.
A garden too?
Maybe God had planned this for her all along.
So the wedding hadn’t given her real closure, leaving her with more unanswered questions than before. That didn’t mean last night wasn’t set up by God to show her that James wasn’t the man for her.
More, to show her that marriage wasn’t part of His plan for her at all. To squash that secret she’d kept hidden deep in her heart, the one that whispered saving for a home was only a back-up plan to what she really wanted. A husband. A family.
God had a plan for her, and whatever it was would be good. She had to trust in that.
The lift of her heart that thought gave her carried her right through the horrible and barely functional bathroom that needed replacing, and out into the sweet little courtyard. So easy to imagine this with a little table and lots of plants. The perfect place to sit for coffee and read.
One thing bothered her. Where was the bedroom?
“And now upstairs,” Candy said, opening a door in the kitchen that Beth had assumed was a pantry cupboard. “You want to be careful, they’re steep. Typical for a house of this age.”
Beth looked up, and swallowed. If she hadn’t climbed those stairs at Tower Bridge last night with James, she’d be making an excuse to leave right now.
Proof. This had to be a God thing. Another reason He’d brought James back into her life for such a short time. She’d never have walked up stairs like this if it wasn’t for him.
Okay, so her heart may have beat a little faster as she climbed the narrow winding flight, but she did it. And was rewarded on the top landing by a dormer window, overlooking the courtyard and with glimpses out to the woods and fields beyond. It cried out for a window seat.
The bedroom, tucked under the roof with sloping ceilings, even had a tiny box room off it, with a small square window. Candy gushed about what a great walk-in wardrobe it would make, but Beth knew she’d make this her study.
The heavy weight dragging in her stomach since last night dissolved. God was so good, blessing her like this.
Even if she did believe James cared for her, they couldn’t be together. If he threw away his family and his heritage to be with her, heartbreak was inevitable. She had to keep away from him, for both their sakes.
This house was safe. Everything she’d prayed for.
It felt right.
Back downstairs, Candy spread her arms and pirouetted, taking in the whole house.
“So that’s it. It needs some work, as you can see, The stairs are too steep for any of my retired clients to consider, and most couples don’t want a home with no room for children.” She raised her hand to touch the low kitchen ceiling beams, without needing to straighten her arm. “And most men would bump their heads every time they came in here.”
Beth raised a hand too. Amazing that those beams were over three hundred years old. The idea made her smile. All that continuity.
The estate agent smiled and went for the close.
“Those disadvantages have kept it perfectly priced for your budget. It could be a lovely house for a woman with imagination, and I’ve seen those designer boards you’ve created for P&M. So, what do you think?”
Beth closed her eyes for a second and prayed. Nothing told her not to go ahead. “I love it. I’ll need to talk to my bank on Monday about a mortgage, and arrange an inspection. When does it go on the market?”
Candy’s smile grew a touch smug, knowing she’d made the sale. “Wednesday. Don’t miss out on this one, Beth. You won’t get another opportunity like it.”
“I don’t intend to miss it.”
One missed opportunity this week was enough. This was the opportunity God meant for her, not James.
The thought warmed her all the way to work.
A home of her own at last. Without the smell of beer and cigarettes and stale chip fat, without loud television and raised voices and revving cars on the street outside.
She envisioned the changes she’d make. A nook for reading, refinishing the floors, the anticipation of what the spring garden might bloom. A thrill of independence swirled her.
Within moments of her arrival at the store, Anita appeared in front of her counter, face alight with hope and mischief. One glance at Beth and her smile vanished.
“Oh. I can see I’d better not ask about last night.”
Beth smiled. Her newfound house hunting joy was not enough to hide the dark circles and puffy eyes. “Do I really look that bad?”
“Truth, or comforting lie?”
“Truth, of course.”
Anita’s face scrunched up in apology. “You looked better yesterday, made up as a corpse.”
Beth shrugged. “I didn’t get much sleep last night. There’s a good reason I said no to James the first time he turned up here. Some things just aren’t meant to be.”
Anita reached out a hand and laid it on her arm, warm and reassuring. “Don’t tell me, asking him to the pizza night wasn’t my best idea ever. I’m sorry. I really hoped he was the one. You two seemed to be a match made in heaven.”
“Not according to his mother. Or to him.” Her words held no bitterness or pain. The memories seemed distant, as if they’d happened to another person. No more than a film she’d watched or a book she read.
Anita’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “You’re kidding me. I saw the way he looked at you. What went wrong?”
Beth rolled her eyes. Even managed to make a joke of it. “Try what didn’t go wrong?”
“That bad, huh?”
“That bad. But anyway, forget James. I’ve found my dream home. Tiny as a doll’s house, needs a lot of work, and crying out for a decorator’s hand.”
“Well, you’re the right girl for that.” Anita smiled, waving her hand in front of her as painting a wall. “And remember, I’m handy with a paint brush too. We can have a paint party.”
Beth smiled right back. That sounded way more fun than the pity party she’d been indulging in over James.
“You’re on. I can make it such an adorable home. I love it already. It even has a little garden. I could get a cat. Isn’t that what all good spinsters do?”
Anita wrinkled her nose. “I hate the thought of you being a spinster.”
The bell to signal that the doors we
re opening to customers rang, and Anita groaned. “Gotta go. If you need to talk, you know where I am. I’m worried you’re being brave, and really you’ve got a broken heart. I’ll pop back later if I can.”
Beth smiled. To her surprise, she didn’t need to force it. Anita was a good friend. She meant well, and she genuinely cared.
“No broken heart. A little bit sad, sure. But hey, I get my house! You know how hard I’ve been saving for this.”
Anita’s words had put James back in her mind. The house was a good distraction, but not quite enough to still her ‘if onlys’.
The day was busy enough to stop her mind drifting back to him too much. Even though everything that happened last night had derailed her plan to do a little discreet promotion for the Registry, sales improved.
One new bride-to-be occupied most of the afternoon. A sweet girl with a bossy battleship of a mother who argued nearly everything her daughter added to the list.
Managing to bat the girl’s corner, finding patterns that delighted the client and satisfied the mother, gave Beth a therapeutic sense of satisfaction and purpose. It may be only lists of blenders and throw pillows… but somehow it mattered in the grand scheme of life.
Amazing how seldom the groom came to help set up the gift list. Chewing over way to change that helped distract her too.
Work, and her house. They were the things God meant for her.
Not wondering how she’d got it so wrong with James and whether things could have been different.
Her life was headed in a whole different direction. A good direction.
And he wasn’t part of it.
Chapter 15
James straightened his back and squared his shoulders before pushing open Pettett and Mayfield’s heavy plate glass entrance door.
Time for Plan B.
Moments like this, he wished he had a little more experience with women, and a little less with mathematical physics.
Physics was all equations and logic. Beth and how he felt for her was something far more complex and difficult to understand.
Love In Store Books 1-3: Collection of three sweet and clean Christian romances with a London setting: The Wedding List, Believe in Me, & A Model Bride Page 9
