As Betsy herself pointed out, the afternoon alone with her reminded him his actions were not above reproach. He thought about his ministry in India and how he’d desired someone to walk alongside him. Someone to hold him when needs of the people overwhelmed. Someone who understood and would be waiting for him when he returned from his travels into the interior.
While a mate could travel with him most of the time, some of those missions were dangerous and he went alone or with another missionary who understood the hardships and danger.
Yes, he prayed for God’s guidance on a mate and dreamed of Betsy, but he realized his finances would go from tight to impossible for two. Had he not given that desire to the Lord—many times? He sucked in a breath. One glance at the woman beside him and his heartbeat quickened. She was everything a man could want and she cared for the very type of people to whom he felt called. She cared, had a gentle heart and he broke it. It was not to be borne.
He had asked for her hand out of duty, but had not returned to England, to London, to seek a wife. His own actions, however originally noble, thrust him into a less than desirable position. As a gentleman, he knew Betsy, however independent, deserved the best—and he was not it. He could not offer her the place in society to which she was born. But this afternoon had compromised her and her position in society should anyone learn of her whereabouts during the afternoon. Obviously his proposal left much to be desired. Not what he should have done, would have done had circumstances been different.
His ire rose. It had been a ninnyhammered thing to do to go to the mission alone. Fear followed as he considered what might have happened. Furthermore, his actions as well as those of the done-up peer also compromised the comely woman beside him. Whether ready or not, he had tried to rectify the situation with his proposal. He had made her cry, and that made him feel helpless.
The anger and hurt of her response to his proposal set him back. Betsy’s expression held sadness as she gazed at him. The tears on her cheeks scared him. “Betsy, what did I do wrong? Why are you crying? Please, dear, I do not understand.”
Finally he tried to put an arm around her, but she pushed him away. He found his confusion etched on her face, as well. Mayhap he had not been formal enough. After all, Betsy was a lady.
“Miss Elizabeth Carrington, may I please have your hand in marriage?”
The tears continued as Betsy shook her head as she swiped at the tears.
“Please talk to me. I don’t understand.” Of course, she was a lady and probably had other offers. It was lowering to realize, while they might have areas of agreement, she was still very much above his touch. Was that it?
“Betsy. Betsy. I did not mean to insult you.” Edward wiped damp hands on his jacket. “I know you are above my touch and all, but...this afternoon...” He knew he was babbling, but her silence was more than he could bear. “All alone together this afternoon. Bad part of town. Bad pass. Not done. Don’t want you to suffer.” Her silent tears caused him to stop for a moment, to gather his thoughts.
Lord, please help me here. Edward felt like crying, as well. He touched her arm. “Betsy, please hear me. As a gentleman, I have the duty and privilege to offer for you. I know I am not what you hoped for—”
Betsy grabbed his arm. “Stop it. Just stop it, Edward.”
He felt his mouth gape in surprise when she said, “I am not above your touch.”
Now he was totally confused. “But the tears?”
“Oh, Edward.” He watched Betsy make an effort to calm herself. She wiped her eyes with the cambric square she pulled from the reticule that had managed to stay on her arm throughout the whole ordeal. “I will not, cannot marry you.”
“But...I can speak to your father, if you like?” He’d never done this before and did not know how to go on. “Is there someone else, mayhap?”
* * *
Did he sound hopeful? Fustian! This time Betsy was firm. “No one else has claimed my hand...as yet.” She recognized his confusion and his hesitation at the difference he believed between their stations in life.
“Oh, Edward, be honest. You do not wish to marry me. The only reason you offered for me was this afternoon. You are, as you say, simply being a gentleman.”
Edward glanced away, then back, his expression difficult to read. “Betsy, you are all that is kind and good. A man would be a fool not to want you or to deliberately hurt you in any fashion. I am so sorry if I did so.”
Betsy read the truth in his pained expression. “But you did not return to take a wife. You returned to see to your sister’s future.”
“Yes, that is true.” Edward let out a breath she doubted he even realized he held.
Betsy closed her eyes for a moment. How could one’s dreams turn into such a bad pass? After she learned the man of her dreams had feet of clay, he proposed out of some misplaced gallantry. Not that it was wrong to do so, but did he realize that from the desperate look on his face the very idea made him feel trapped?
“No one knows,” Betsy told him firmly. “You will not speak to my mother. She would positively go into decline if she learned what almost happened this afternoon. Besides, Reverend Denning, I have no intention of marrying you. Because—because, face it, you don’t want to marry.”
Edward’s shoulder eased and the tension on his face faded. Did the man have to look so relieved?
His next words somewhat mitigated his obvious relief. “Betsy, if I were to marry, I would be honored if it were you.”
Something warmed within her. Mayhap she was not a total antidote.
He took up the reins. “This makes it all worse. I must get you home straightaway. Please, give me your direction and we’ll be on our way.”
Betsy considered what to do. She must not take him to Alistair House. His irrational anger made him less than reasonable of his sister’s situation. There was time enough for him to discover the truth about his sister and Spensor. The last thing she needed after this trying day was for Edward to make a cake of himself with his accusations should she allow him to escort her home.
The solution presented itself. With a tight smile, she gave him the address. She sat straight as he tooled the rig down the wide street. Straw spread on the roadway muted the sound of the gray’s hoofbeats. Betsy breathed a prayer as Edward pulled up in front of an imposing Gothic-style edifice.
“You are staying here?” From his tone, she knew he felt intimated and probably more than ever regretted his offer.
She tried to reassure him without actually telling a whisker. “It is not ours. This season we are guests of the owner of the place in which we’re staying.” There, not a lie, but Edward appeared less tense.
He prepared to get down. “Here, let me see you in.”
Betsy pushed him back and managed to get down on her own. “No, please. Better no one know about this afternoon.”
“But—”
“I am fine. It is but a few steps to the front door. Now go....”
“Might I see you again?” Edward pulled the reins slightly as the gray shook his head.
“Mayhap...I don’t know.” She had to get him on his way before someone saw her.
Though his expression remained troubled, Edward nonetheless did her bidding and flipped the reins. Betsy watched until he turned the corner. She waved until he was out of sight.
Quickly, she lifted her gown, hurried across the street, cut through a backyard to the next street and, after straightening her gown, hat and jacket, she smiled and walked into Alistair House.
Chapter 9
Meanwhile, Betsy sighed with relief when she managed to evade members of the household until she was just outside the door of her bedchamber. She turned as Angella exited her room. “Why, Betsy. Haven’t seen you all day. Where did you hie off to?”
Unable to hide the flush in her cheeks,
Betsy turned away so Angella wouldn’t see the guilty expression on her face. Too late. Taking her arm, Angella stared into her face. “Um. Something untoward happened to you.” Her expression held concern. “Are you all right? Mayhap I should get Spensor...”
“No. No, absolutely not. You mustn’t.” Opening her door, Betsy pulled Angella inside and closed the door.
Shaking free of Betsy’s grip, Angella stuck her hands on her hips. “Just where have you been, Betsy? Your gown is stained, your stocking torn and your hair is mussed. Yet, as far I know, you have not been out with either your mother or Lady Alistair.”
When Betsy struggled to know what to say or whether to confide in Angella, her friend guessed. “You have been out. Do not tell me you went out unescorted? Really, Betsy, even I wouldn’t do such a noddycocked thing in London.” Angella was not going to let this go and Betsy knew that, especially when her friend sat down in a chair by the hearth, crossed her arms...and waited. “Well, out with it.”
“Oh, all right.” Betsy put down her reticule and sat in a chair opposite her friend. “Where to start?”
Angella sent her a wry glance. “How about at the beginning?” She grinned. “I have a feeling you’ve had quite the adventure.”
“Too much.” Betsy pulled the pins from her hair and came away with a twig and leaf or two. As she combed her fingers through her disheveled hair, Angella raised her eyebrows. “Just where did you hie off to this afternoon?” She leaned forward. “And with whom.”
Color flooded Betsy’s cheek, which raised a question in Angella’s eyes. “Surely you didn’t go off with the marquis?” When Betsy shook her head, Angella asked, “Not the baron.”
“No, neither.”
Angella returned to her earlier guess. “Alone?”
Betsy reluctantly nodded. Angella’s eyes widened. “Oh my. Are you truly all right?”
Taking a deep breath, Betsy told her, “I got word one of our sponsors was sending out someone to preach at the mission.”
“You did not say anything.” Angella’s eyes darkened with suspicion.
“Botheration! Everyone was either gone or had plans. What was I going to do?” Betsy shrugged.
“You might have sent back a message to explain the circumstances.”
Betsy grimaced. “I did not think of that.”
Angella frowned. “Did not you say Fritton offered to escort you?”
“He did.”
Angella finished her thought. “But you forgot about him, as well.”
Betsy sighed and fidgeted. If Angella responded in such a fashion, she surely did not want her mother to know anything about her afternoon.
“So you really did go alone, didn’t you?” When Betsy nodded, Angella shook her head. “Oh, Betsy. How did you get there?”
“Hackney cab.”
She wilted under Angella’s horrified “Oh, Betsy, havey-cavey thing to do.”
Betsy raised her hands. “We’re known in the neighborhood. I thought—”
“I take it things did not go as planned.”
“You might say that. I was almost to the door when...” Though they were in Betsy’s room, she lowered her voice and leaned over as she told her friend about the rakeshame who tried to abduct her.
“Truly, he thought you were a doxy?” Her friend covered her mouth. “Spensor will read you a scold when he hears.”
Betsy clutched Angella’s arm. “Please, you must not tell him. Nothing happened. Please promise.”
“Nothing happened?” From her expression, Betsy knew her friend hesitated, and she pressed her advantage. “He tried to drag me to his carriage, but...”
“You are too brave, Betsy, but very foolhardy. Why, you could have been taken away and assaulted.”
Betsy was unable to hide her expression, drawing a gasp from her friend.
“Were you set upon...assaulted in any fashion at all?”
“I tried to explain, but the nob was pretty done up and not quite in his right mind.” Betsy blushed to her hair roots as she continued. “He could not be persuaded I was not a woman of that stamp.”
“Oh my. Betsy, what did you do? How did you get away?”
Betsy shook her head as a tiny smile lifted her lips. “You’ll never believe what happened.”
Betsy exploded her tidbit. “Edward rescued me.”
Shock slackened Angella’s expression. “Edward, as in my brother?”
“The same. There I was, fighting to get away, and Edward tooled his rig right up next to us and literally yanked me into the rig beside him.”
“You’re sure it was my brother, Edward?”
“Not at that moment. In that moment I felt relief followed by terror that something worse was happening.” She grinned. “He soon put my fears to rest.” Color stole into her cheeks. “He recognized me first.”
“You are absolutely sure it was Edward?”
“Really, Angella, I do know your brother. Even without an introduction—though he is much changed.”
Wonder sounded in Angella’s tone. “Then Edward is in London.”
“Quite so. That is how he came to be on hand to rescue me. He was scheduled to speak at the mission. Though I did not know it, he was the very reason I felt compelled to go to the mission—to introduce whoever was sent to preach.” Betsy paused, remembering. “They sent Edward and he preached a fine sermon. Fit right in at the mission.”
After Angella absorbed the information, her gaze narrowed and Betsy realized her friend had noted the peculiar expression on her face before she could wipe away all the feelings evoked during the afternoon. “Betsy, there is much more to this story. Now, out with it.”
She did not need much coaxing. Angella already knew the highlights. Betsy filled in the rest.
Angella shook her head. “The chances you took. But Edward knows our direction now. Sounds like he’s angry enough to do something foolish. He was always my protector. I hate to think what mischief he’ll cause, before he accepts the truth of the matter.”
“If only Spensor had not been so caper-witted as to not send for a chaperone immediately on your arrival.”
This time Angella blushed. “Afraid becoming a guardian so unexpectedly quite put him in a spin. We wrangled about everything. Then—then things changed when he returned to his faith.”
“Which he credits to you.” Betsy smiled.
“Then he found a chaperone, but it was too late. The village tabbies preferred a tale of scandal.”
“Which your brother has swallowed whole.”
“Now that he knows where I am, he’ll return.”
“He won’t.” Betsy shrugged. “As to our direction—dash it all, I could not abide his insinuations. So he doesn’t know. I told him to let me off at that large house over a street. I felt you needed time to prepare for any visit. He might consider what I said, or not, but I could tell anger burned within and he was not ready to hear another explanation.” She sighed. “Sorry.”
Angella reached forward and patted Betsy’s arm. “You did the right thing. Mayhap if Spensor and I go to him...”
“Oh dear!” Betsy clapped a hand to her mouth. “I was so caught up in not letting him know your direction, I neglected to discover where he is staying. Oh, I am so sorry.”
“He won’t stop looking for me—especially now that he has found you again.” A slight smile tugged at Angella’s lips as she changed the subject. “He actually asked for your hand?”
“He did, but...he seemed all too relieved when I turned him down. How lowering.”
“Betsy, I think you refine too much over that. Be glad Edward came to your rescue. Mayhap you’ll write adventure romance stories one of these days.”
Betsy rolled her eyes. “Mine would be about silly chits making bad choices and being re
scued by handsome missionaries. Not a story most want to read. I am convinced God put Edward there at that moment.” Silence reigned for a few moments.
Reaching over, Angella squeezed Betsy’s hand. “God is in this somehow. I would love having you for my forever sister.”
“I would like that as well, but Edward acted so strangely over Spensor. I worry about a man with so much anger. He did not seem like the same man who spoke with such comfort and hope at the mission.”
Angella glanced away and back. “Quick temper runs in the family, I fear.”
“It matters not.” Betsy found herself holding back a tear. “As for that proposal—dreadful. I guess I was goose-witted to hope for something more heartfelt instead of a dreaded obligation. I do not know why I expected something else.” She sighed. “Truly, Edward scarcely knows who I am. We met only that one time at the reception after his commissioning service. I could not forget, but...”
“I have a feeling you haven’t heard the last of my brother yet.”
Betsy tried to protest, but a bell sounded. “Angella, look at me. I am not ready for dinner. What will I do? Mother cannot know about today. Spensor either.” At the skeptical look in her friend’s eyes, she begged. “Please, Angella, I am fine. I promised your brother I would not do such a hen-witted thing again. And I won’t. Now please.”
Angella stood and straightened the skirt of her gown. “Be thankful we’re dining in tonight. Get ready, but hurry. I’ll see about delaying things a bit.” With that, she left Betsy to dress, without aid of a maid, and ponder the afternoon. Was Angella right? Was there hope?
* * *
After leaving off Betsy, Edward frowned as he tooled the gray down the road. Unease sat on his shoulders at not seeing Betsy into the house. What a rag-mannered thing to do! He should not have listened to her, even if she was a tad put out with him over his proposal. More than a tad. He still did not quite understand her overreaction. Still, he was a gentleman. Turning the gray, he found his way back to the house. Betsy was nowhere about. What did he expect, that she would wait for him? Shaking his head, Edward sent up a prayer as he headed back to the home of Reverend Jeremiah.
The Lady's Hero Page 10
