“No!” he cut in. “You won’t become a governess, Taylor. I won’t allow it.”
She came to her feet and glared up at him. “You can’t control my actions, Blake.
“You are under my protection now. That night you first arrived here you were in a terrible state. That bastard hurt you and I can’t let that ever happen again.”
She let out a tiny sound, a sob or gasp, she wasn’t certain. She wrapped her arms around her waist, turning from him.
“Is that why?” she whispered.
“Taylor—”
“That’s the reason you offered for me,” she said. “Because Trevor is at Shelby Manor?”
“Among others,” he said. “You’ll be safe here. Upon my honor, you will have a place.”
Taylor faced him, her chin held high. She knew she bore dust and smudges, and her hair was a mess. Her condition surely marred her attempt at valiance. “I have your word, and for that I thank you.” He stiffened at the chill of her words. “I’ll endeavor to take up as little of your time as possible.”
His eyes pinned her to the spot. “What?”
“We don’t have a love match, Blake.” He opened his mouth and she raised one hand to still him. “You offered for me out of duty or honor or some other noble reason far from your heart. Robert is still gone and . . . I merely wish to assure you I’ll endeavor to make you a good wife.”
* * *
Blake stared out the window for a long moment. She didn’t love him, he realized with a sinking in his belly. What, pray, did that matter? They would suit.
He turned to face her once more. “I have every hope our union will prove satisfactory despite the lack of such emotion.”
Pain flickered in her eyes, gone in an instant. Would he ever understand her?
“We’ll be wed within a fortnight, Taylor. I’ll have the license along with the vicar’s best wishes.” And she would be his.
“Thank you,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind my meddling here at the public house. It gives me pleasure and fills my days.”
If she wished to change the subject, so be it.
“I give you leave to decorate The Hideaway as you see fit, bride.”
She studied his face for a long moment, searching for something he couldn’t fathom. At last she nodded her acceptance.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” she said.
He nodded and watched as she took her leave. Once the door stood between them, he sank down into his chair and folded his hands. Their conversation could have gone far worse. Taylor was still content to marry him, though he doubted he’d ever again see the happy young woman who had accompanied him into Homerton only yesterday. What a muddle.
He’d take care with her until they were wed, keep to his own chamber at night. He didn’t want to get her with child before their vows were said. He would put these next two weeks to good use and work on finding Robert.
That evening, long after another painfully polite dinner with his bride, Blake climbed the stairs to his chamber. Her beautiful face a bit strained, Taylor had spoken of little save for the quality of the food and the number of other diners. For his part he’d noticed little of the food. Or the company, save for hers.
He paused before her door, his hand poised over the knob. Such a small effort on his part, such ease to open the door and join her in that little iron bed. His mind and body free of ale, he remembered all they’d shared, everywhere he’d touched that delectable little body.
He withdrew his hand to fist it at his side. The vow to keep from her hammered in his brain. But after the wedding he wouldn’t be denied. He would bring out the passion that simmered beneath her calm, stiff façade.
* * *
Taylor looked around the crowded dining room, pleased her work had begun to show. Pretty curtains dressed the windows, curtains she made herself with lace from Mrs. Smythe’s shop. After her awful discussion with Blake a week ago, she had kept to her duties and stayed far from his company. Soon they would wed and Blake could resume his search for Robert.
No love match, she’d told Blake. He’d made no argument, and after all he’d said, and all he hadn’t, she had grave concerns about their marriage. He’d never know the depth of her own feelings. She loved him with all of herself, but knew he’d never accept that from her. One-sided love was more than most marriages could boast. Wasn’t it?
She nodded a greeting to an elderly couple seated at a table not far from where she stood. The type of patrons who frequented the place had also changed since her arrival. She arranged the flowers set in the vase before her, focusing on the spring blooms’ bright colors and sweet scent.
“Miss Shelby.”
Taylor turned to find Jason standing before her. A genuine smile curved her mouth for the first time in recent memory. “Jason. You are at last returned from London.”
His blue eyes sparkled with mirth. “Blake sent word about your upcoming nuptials, but I daresay, you don’t seem much like a young woman ready to marry. Is my little brother less than what you desire in a husband?”
She managed another smile, with far less ease than earlier. “We shall suit, Jason. I just hope Blake finds Robert soon.”
Jason muttered something she failed to catch. He took her hand in his and patted it gently. “I’ve never heard Blake speak less than the truth, Taylor.”
She nodded, acknowledging the validity of Jason’s statement.
“He’s a man of his word,” she said.
The words rang true as far as Robert was concerned but it pained her that Blake’s proposal was based on his honor and not any love he had for her.
Jason wore his confusion on his face. He looked around the room then. “You’ve wrought quite a change on The Hideaway in my short absence.” He took her elbow and escorted her to one of the lovely little tables. “I scarcely recognize the place for the pub it was.”
Taylor accepted the credit with a brief smile, and took a seat. “Clean windows and a bit of lace.” She glanced around the room. “Blake usually . . . never mind, pray.”
Jason signaled for Polly’s attention and joined her at the table. “Pray, bring two platters, Polly. I wish to dine with my future sister.”
Polly smiled at him, a private expression not lost on Taylor. The girl turned and nodded at Taylor.
“Thank you, Polly,” Taylor said.
The maid took her leave.
“Blake will join us before long,” Jason insisted. “From what information I gleaned in Town, today’s particular mission held little danger for him.”
Taylor forced a look of disinterest on her face. Polly brought an ale for Jason and a cup of tea for Taylor, and left them alone. The intent on the viscount’s face as he watched Polly sashay across the dining room told her much of his plans involving the serving girl for later. Taylor sipped at her tea, keeping her eyes focused on the flower vase. She now knew the pleasure a man took with a woman, and even though Polly no longer shared intimacies with Blake, the knowledge that he’d lain with her still stung.
“Jason!” she heard Blake call from the entryway.
Her heart sped its beat and she tamped down the ridiculous excitement she felt from merely hearing Blake’s voice. A sideways glance told her he’d lost little of his appeal during his day away from her. His clothes fit him well, his dark tousled hair and blue eyes caught the waning sunlight slanting through the dining room. Jason grinned at his little brother and Taylor once more felt Robert’s absence keenly.
“Brother,” Jason said with a nod. “I daresay your bride and I had nearly despaired of your company this evening.”
Blake’s smile faltered as he greeted Taylor with a stiff bow. Stifling a sigh, Taylor returned the gesture with a nod.
“A simple matter of stolen property,” Blake said. “Recovered and returned.” He joined them at the table as Polly brought another mug of ale. Blake waved it away before facing his brother again. “High time you returned from London.”
Jason chuckled. “
I received your missive, Blake. Though not in answer to the one I sent you some time ago.”
That odd comment caught Taylor’s attention. Blake shook his head at Jason and the viscount shrugged. Jason had sent a missive from London? She sensed something beneath the surface of geniality.
“I take it you have the license?” Jason asked Blake.
Blake nodded. “The vicar was pleased.” He addressed Taylor directly now. “The man’s wife holds you in high regard.”
“I’ve seen her in the village,” she said.
“You’ll marry in the church?” Jason asked.
Blake scowled at his brother and faced Taylor once more. “Yes. Friday morning.”
Taylor gulped. Two days hence. She’d known this day was coming, but it was now almost upon them. A wild fluttering began in her chest. In two days she’d be bound to this man who was marrying her only out of honor and guilt? A wretched beginning, to be sure. Well and good to get it done, then.
“Taylor?” Blake asked.
She started, surprised to find herself the object of interest for both gentlemen. Jason’s worried gaze, Blake’s befuddled one. Bloody hell. “Friday will suit,” she managed to utter.
Her mind worked as she ate, blocking out their conversation as she choked down Mrs. Mott’s fine stew. After consuming what she deemed an adequate amount, she placed her napkin aside and stood. The two startled gentlemen hurried to do likewise, their chairs scraping on the wooden planks.
“I bid you good night,” she said.
She didn’t wait for an answer from either Blake or his brother, instead she turned and walked as slowly to the staircase as she could manage. Halfway up the stairs, she let her feet do what her heart longed to, racing down the corridor to barricade herself in her lonely little chamber.
Chapter 16
Blake stared at the entry of the dining room, foolishly hoping for Taylor’s return. He slumped into his chair and stared at the still-steaming plate before him.
“What did you do to her?” Jason asked.
He lifted his head to find Jason glaring at him in accusation.
“Don’t start with me,” Blake said.
“She’s far from the blushing bride, eager to join herself to you forever.”
“She will accustom herself to the marriage,” was all he would say. “She’s still distraught over Robert’s disappearance, no doubt.”
Jason snorted. “I’ve seen her with you, Blake. Before I left for London. Her eyes sparkled, her face was bright. Robert was still missing then.”
Blake thought back to the Taylor he’d known a fortnight ago. True, she still possessed the grace and gentility that had drawn him. Her face and body still caused his blood to heat. But he’d kept himself so often from her company lately that he couldn’t comment on the lack of sparkle in her still-lovely eyes.
“She’ll be content here,” Blake said. “Safe.”
“She loves you, you sot.”
Blake’s heart pounded and he searched Jason’s face for any indication of jest. Never before had he seen such seriousness on the man’s face. “Nonsense.”
Jason gripped Blake’s arm. “Blake, love isn’t nonsense. Believe me. It can make you mad, but it’s as real as that cravat around your worthless neck.”
“What, pray, do you know of such tender emotions?” Blake jerked off his brother’s hold. “You hop from mistress to mistress, Jason. Don’t attempt to tell me that love draws you time and again.”
Jason shook his dark head. “Love drove me mad.”
That statement hung in the air between them. Something niggled at the back of Blake’s mind. “Why did you return to Sussex, Jason? Was it merely to visit Father?”
Jason dragged his fingers through his hair. “I must make amends.” He let out a breath. “Keeping to Sussex is but one way. Pray, leave it alone. You have the chance I never did, brother. Don’t be a fool and throw it away.”
With that, his brother left him to his own company. Blake heard the front door open and close, and fought the urge to follow. Jason had been in love? When the devil had that happened? True, he never gave his brother’s romantic escapades much notice, mired as he had been in his own abysmal dealings with the beguiling, deceitful Pamela.
“I won’t fall into that trap again,” he vowed.
The image of Taylor beckoned. The sweet, stubborn girl who had come to him in the dead of night. She was different from the sad, quiet young woman who had sat across from him tonight. Did she love him? Did he want her to love him? She needed protection and she needed him to find her brother. And he would give her both. That would be enough. It had to be.
He picked up his fork and began to eat. Maybe if he told himself enough times, he’d believe it.
* * *
“Ooh, Miss!”
Taylor turned from the washstand to find Sally before her. The girl trembled with excitement, and Taylor wished she could summon a fraction of it for this morning’s events. She turned back to the small mirror.
True, her dress was more than adequate, a pretty confection of white lace that Mrs. Smythe’s boy had delivered yesterday afternoon. A scooped bodice trimmed with satin showed her feminine attributes modestly; cap sleeves of frothy lace nearly met the tops of her long gloves. A wide sash dressed her slender waist, the bow behind her the perfect complement to the pearly buttons snaking down her back. Blake must have ordered the gown when they first visited Mrs. Smythe’s shop. How thoughtful.
“Thank you, Sally,” Taylor said. “I daresay I look like a bride.”
The girl’s head tilted to one side in confusion.
Taylor offered her a smile. “Come and help me with my bonnet, Sally.”
The lady’s maid nodded vigorously and assisted Taylor with the white satin bonnet and veil. She glanced in the mirror again. Wisps escaped her upswept hair to brush her brow and cheeks from beneath the deep brim of the hat. Well, she couldn’t delay her departure any longer. A rap on her door confirmed that. Sally hurried to open the door.
“Is the bride ready?” Jason asked.
Taylor turned to smile at Jason. The viscount looked very handsome, his gray breeches and jacket complementing his blue waistcoat. They would surely make a picture, the doting brother and blushing bride.
“My God, Taylor.” Jason grinned. “Blake will be speechless.”
As he’d been these past weeks. She’d barely seen him. He kept to himself most of the time, working in his office or off on cases. They only saw each other at meals, and even then, their conversations had been stilted, albeit polite. She hoped their marriage would improve matters between them. She wanted that so much. But only time would tell. “Small wonder, that,” she murmured.
Jason apparently missed her meaning and laughed aloud. Sally draped Taylor’s new cloak, another present from her dutiful husband-to-be, over her shoulders. She took Jason’s offered elbow and left the little chamber that would no longer be her refuge.
* * *
Blake stood at the base of the stairs, one boot tapping impatiently in an effort to keep from pacing. He tugged at the intricate folds of his cravat, Billy had learned his craft well, and ran his fingers over his dark gray jacket.
“You look the proper groom,” a feminine voice observed, followed by a giggle.
Blake glanced over at Polly and Annie, quieting their laughter with a glare. The girls hurried into the dining room to ready the wedding breakfast following the ceremony at the little church. A fine day beckoned, he noted as he glanced out the window in the entry. The sun shone; the sky was a bright blue. The threatening storm within The Hideaway still rumbled in his mind, however.
The past days spent in his brother’s company had nearly sent him running from The Hideaway. Jason hadn’t missed the strain between Taylor and himself, though after a few attempts at broaching the subject he’d at last kept his peace. Polite and congenial. That was how Blake treated his intended. And in her turn she gave him the coolest shoulder he’d ever encountered. He’d
waited for a fortnight for her to ignite, to catch a glimpse of the Taylor that had so captivated him from the moment she stepped foot in The Hideaway. Reserved and efficient, she’d gone about her self-appointed duties at the public house with little attention paid to her betrothed, damn it to hell. But tonight, she’d be his. And the little mouse that had crept around him would be nowhere in sight once he had her in his bed again.
“Come, brother,” Jason boomed.
Blake glanced up the stairs, his heart pounding as he spied the vision on his brother’s arm. The new blue cloak—with a hint of gray, like her eyes—covered her wedding gown. He’d have to wait to see the lace adorning the lovely figure he knew hid beneath. Her exquisite face was framed within the new bonnet’s deep brim, and she regarded him for a long moment. Her eyes flicked over him and he read the appreciation at his carefully chosen clothing in her eyes. He was pleased she found him suitable.
Taylor smiled at Blake from beneath her white bonnet. He glimpsed something in her eyes, a warmth that had been missing these past few weeks. And something more, but he wouldn’t put a name to it. He just hoped that after today, things would improve between them. His Taylor. His bride. A sense of rightness filled his breast and he took a deep, satisfying breath.
“Mr. Gaines awaits,” he said.
The two joined him and they began their short journey toward the church and the vicar’s words that would bind them together forever.
* * *
Mr. Gaines and his wife produced a lovely ceremony, Taylor thought, as she stood before the clergyman. Flowers, blue and pink Canterbury Bells, and white Lilies of the Valley, dressed the benches with white and blue ribbons twined throughout. The villagers who sat in the church greeted them with friendly smiles. The clergyman and his wife welcomed them with warmth. Everyone knew Blake and his good works. They had also come to know Taylor. Yes, indeed, the entire village looked pleased with the match.
A Hero and A Gentleman Page 15
