Imogene sat back, her eyebrows lifted. “Oh.”
Alina dropped her eyes to her lap, where her hands were kneading her dressing gown into knots. “It’s been some time now,” she said, hurriedly adding, “after Jonas’ death, of course, but there was a particular person who cared for us, Jinx and I. He doesn’t feel the same—not anymore, at least—but I can’t give myself to the colonel, not knowing that my heart is wrapped up with another. It wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be right.”
“No,” Imogene agreed slowly. “I suppose it wouldn’t.”
Both women looked at each other for a moment, and then Imogene reached over and poured Alina another cup of tea, her mind clearly fighting to switch to this new and unexpected problem. “So, you care for another. I must say, I am relieved to hear you are not moping over Jonas. I was unsure how to get you past that obstacle, and until now all my efforts in Brighton have been to that effect.”
She laughed, adding, “If you’d told me of this secret love a moment sooner, I might have saved you all those social engagements you so detested.”
Alina sighed and allowed herself a little smile. “I don’t believe I admitted it even to myself until recently.”
“What are you going to do about it?” Imogene asked.
“Do? There’s nothing to do,” she said. “He’s…not very wealthy. It would not be considered a good match in London, and the connection to my husband would start tongues wagging before I’d even made it down the aisle.”
“Let me get this straight.” Imogene took a biscuit between her fingers. “You are eternally faithful to your dear, departed husband while he is alive and philandering with other women in the plain sight of society. You are a loving and godly woman who goes above and beyond to preserve the bonds of matrimony even in the face of obvious adultery, and then, when your husband finally does die—we won’t go into whether or not I view the entire tragedy as an act of God—you wait eight months after his passing and are still uncertain whether or not it would be acceptable for you to find happiness elsewhere?”
“Not everyone is as forward thinking as you, Imogene.” Alina sipped her tea. “Whatever you think, Jonas’ sins are more common, and what is common is more acceptable in society.”
“Perhaps you should set aside your concern with the way society views a situation. Isn’t true happiness and honest love worth the risk? You’ve tried the path of most wealth and distinction, and it has brought you nothing but heartache.”
A tentative knock on the door broke off the women’s conversation, and Jinx came tumbling into the room, his boots muddy and his eyes sparkling.
“Mama, there are puddles in the garden, filling the rose beds!”
“My,” Alina said, grateful for the momentary distraction. “Did you bring the entire flower bed in with you, my love?”
He looked down at his feet as though seeing them for the first time and blushed an adorable crimson. “I’m sorry, Aunt Imogene. I’ve mussed the carpet.”
“That’s what cleaning supplies are for,” Imogene assured him graciously. “But if you take the time to let the butler know of the mishap, he can come fix it when we’re out tomorrow.”
“No,” Alina said calmly. “Jinx knows that when he does such a thing he fixes it himself.” She leveled a sweet smile at her boy. “I’ll help you, if you run to Willa and fetch some rags and water.”
He obeyed at once, and was back in a jiffy with his dirty shoes removed and the cleaning supplies in hand. He and Alina knelt on the carpet and set to scrubbing, much to Imogene’s protests. The job was done in moments, and when the supplies had been stowed safely away, Jinx crawled into his mama’s lap by the fire and leaned a head against her shoulder.
“You didn’t need to do that,” Imogene told her. “I will never recover from the sight of my guests cleaning my floors like common servants.”
“It’s good for him,” Alina replied, looking down with gentle eyes at her son falling asleep in her arms. “I want him to grow up unentitled, looking to help first and understanding that his actions have consequences.”
Imogene chose her words carefully. “You want him to be different from…him.”
Alina nodded silently.
“And this other love?” Imogene asked. “What of him? Is he good with the boy?”
Alina looked down sharply at Jinx’s face, relieved to find him already snoring softly against her shoulder. “He is,” she whispered back. “He is very kind, and knows Jinx well.”
“So, if I interrogate the boy, I may find this man’s secret identity?”
Alina leveled a serious look at her friend, and Imogene threw up her hands in mock surrender. “Nevermind, nevermind. I won’t ruin your little intrigue just yet. But think: you’ve found someone kind and good who cares for the boy and cares for you. Don’t throw that away, Alina.”
“I wouldn’t even know how to move forward. I’ve never been one to put myself forward.”
“Yes, I remember this. You never would have gotten dances and attention if you’d been a plain woman, Alina. You’ve got all the cleverness and attitude, but you keep it wrapped in black crepe just like you wear those widows’ weeds.” Imogene paused, thoughtful. “There’s only one thing for it, my dear friend. You must overcome your fear and tell him how you feel. You needn’t be as direct as our poor colonel was today beneath the pier, but you can show some interest.”
Alina looked out the window, thoughtful. “Perhaps.” The thought of sharing even a sliver of her heart with Theo was beyond enticing. “What if he doesn’t return my affection?”
Imogene looked like she seriously doubted such an eventuality, but she answered honestly despite. “You must take a risk, Alina, if you’re ever going to find something real.”
Alina waited until Jinx was a heavy weight of sleepiness in her arms and then stood, with Imogene’s help, and carried him to his bed. She settled him beneath the covers and ran a hand through his mop of curls, looking down affectionately at his sweet face. There was something about even that simple movement that reminded her of Theo, and it took her a moment to remember the day when she’d learned of Jonas’ death. She recalled the way he’d knelt before Jinx to deliver the bad news, man to man, it seemed, and then the way Jinx had fallen asleep in his arms.
Jinx was a kind boy, and open to new friends, but he wasn’t one to give away his affections hither and yon. He had to be won, and yet Theo had won him in a matter of a few hours. Alina felt the same way, like a bruised and battered animal frightened of its own shadow that had been found and healed by something far gentler than she.
The image of Theo fresh in her mind, Alina walked to her writing desk and took out a few pages. She began, haltingly at first, but then the words flowed from her pen like a long-pent-up waterfall.
“Dear Mr. Pendleton,” she wrote. “Over the years, you have served my husband well. You have been a reliable source of wisdom to the Hartley name, and I thank you for that. I went to Brighton originally on your advice, and now I would like to ask for your advice again. You are a good, honest man that I consider a dear friend, and I would like you to consider coming to join me and my friend Mrs. Fairfax in Brighton. I would be grateful for your companionship, and perhaps we could discuss the matter of my brother-in-law’s involvement in my husband’s will.”
She paused, realizing that she’d strayed somehow from language of his goodness to a safety net of business as usual. She thought about starting again, but then she realized that what she had written was, in part, true. He was a good friend, and an honest man. She was not ready to put words of love in a letter, especially without Theo’s acknowledgement and admittance to love in return. She wanted to protect her own heart, and she wanted to protect Jinx’s, as well. No, she would just ask him to come; she would share enough to let him know that she thought of him above others, and if she was lucky, he would find it enough to make a visit.
“Mr. Pendleton, I have for some time counted you among my dearest friends,” she
wrote. “I have wanted to see you for some time, and I miss our talks. I feel there was some distance created after my husband’s funeral, and if there is any way to bridge that gap and have your wise counsel in my life once again, I would be most grateful. You are a good, decent man in a world that turns out few good and decent men. Please, honour me with your presence in Brighton at your earliest convenience. Jinx will be thrilled, as well. Sincerely, Mrs. Hartley.”
She blew sand across the wet ink and folded the letter, sealing it before she could change her mind. She handed it to Willa to post, and watched the maid leave with mixed feelings. It was out of her hands, now. When he arrived, she would be able to tell from his face how he wished to proceed, and hopefully, her feelings were returned. With any luck, he would feel the same.
Chapter 14
Three days later, Theodore Pendleton arrived at Imogene’s home in Brighton, bags packed for a brief stay, his hat in his hand.
Alina heard it first from Jinx’s lips. She was in the back garden, replanting flowers that had overgrown into the vegetable patch, when he came tumbling through the door, his mouth running faster than his legs.
“He came! He came, he came!” Jinx fell forward and embraced her.
“Who?” She turned in surprise, looking up from under the shade of her wide-brimmed gardening hat and shaking the dirt from between her fingers. Imogene, who was kneeling across from her, engaged in the very same activity, looked up with equal interest.
“Yes, who dear?”
“Mr. Theo, Mama!”
Alina’s heart pounded to a stop. She hadn’t heard anything in response to her letter, and so had assumed it had been ill-received. Now, here Theo was, without any warning, on her doorstep. She tried to compose herself, desperate to keep her reaction secret from Imogene, who was already looking under every rock for Alina’s “secret lover.”
“Mr. Theo?” Imogene asked, then, remembering. “Ah, your barrister?”
“Mr. Pendleton, yes.” Alina stood to her feet, suddenly conscious of the wrinkles in her dark navy dress, the loose braid coming even looser around her face, the dirt beneath her nails. “Jinx, is he inside?”
“Yes, Mama. The maid said to tell you he’s in the parlour.”
“Show him out here,” Imogene instructed, apparently blind to Alina’s discomfort. “No reason why a barrister can’t see a few ladies elbow deep in dirt. Right, Alina?”
Alina fought to keep her voice light. “Of course. No reason, whatsoever.”
Imogene would have pressed further, Alina could see it in her face, but all at once Theodore was there, in the doorway leading back into the house, dressed in a conservative overcoat with his hat in his hand.
“Here, let me help you with that,” Imogene rushed forward and relieved him of his coat, tossing the article to the nearby footman and curtsying prettily to their guest. “Mr. Pendleton. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I’ve come on business with Mrs. Hartley,” he answered her, his eyes drawn to Alina’s across the space of the garden. “I have a room at the Lion’s Tavern in town, and I will be here for a few days. I was hoping to speak with Mrs. Hartley about a personal matter.”
Alina’s heart was in her chest. He was so handsome, so tall, and so gentle. He was exactly as she had remembered, and having him so close was a beautiful distraction.
“Of course!” Imogene sent a smile Alina’s way. “I’m sure my friend would be happy to discuss business with you.”
She drew up some chairs and called for tea. Alina could see a look of knowing amusement in her eyes, and she winced inwardly at the thought of the interrogation that would surely come as soon as Theo had gone.
“So,” she said softly when they had seated. “You came. You received my correspondence then, asking for your—” she felt Imogene’s eyes on her “—assistance?”
“Correspondence?” He wrinkled his forehead. “You wrote?”
She looked back at him in surprise. “I thought that was why you came.”
“No, I received no letter,” he informed her.
Imogene raised her eyebrows. “When did you write, Alina?”
Alina knew she would be able to put together the date of the letter and their conversation about her secret admirer, but here in Theo’s presence, she cared less and less about such paltry things. “I wrote three days ago,” she said, watching the realization spread across her friend’s face.
“It should have reached London, then,” Imogene confirmed.
Alina didn’t care particularly for the details of how her letter had been misplaced. She realized another truth—if Theo had not received her correspondence, then he had come to see her of his own accord.
***
Theo stared across the table at Alina. She looked well here—the sea air had done her good. She had a bright color in her pale cheeks and her eyes, even in the dim navy dress, sparkled like the ocean. He saw the dirt in her hands and the tendrils of damp hair curling at the base of her neck, but they all made her more beautiful to him. She was intoxicating, and now, closer to her, he was still unsatisfied.
London had been empty without her. He didn’t think he would notice much of a difference, since he’d rarely seen her since the funeral, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. Knowing Alina was only a few streets away at Marshall Gardens had been more of a reassurance than he had realized. The thought of her being so far away had been more torture then her closeness.
“So,” she was asking him, her chin tilted to one side. “Why did you come, if not because of my letter?”
He was curious about this letter, hopeful that it would turn back up as the days passed. Why would she have written him? He wondered if he dared to hope.
“I wanted to update you about Matthew Hartley,” he said. “And the rest of the estate.” Lies, all lies, his mind mocked him. You just wanted to see if she was as you remembered. And she is. God help you, she is.
“Oh? Has something come up?”
“Nothing direct, but he’s still fighting hard for the estate.”
She sighed, picking a speck of mud from her nail. “I thought as much.” She looked up at him, a naked hope in her light eyes. “Was that the only reason you came?”
He felt Imogene’s presence like a fetter. “I am pleased to have seen you,” was all he could manage under the circumstances. It seemed to be enough, for she leaned forward ever so slightly, her beautiful rosebud lips parted in hope.
“Do you have plans for tomorrow?”
“Nothing that cannot be changed.”
“Will you go with Imogene and Jinx and I to the beach? It’s lovely down there, and we have a little cove all our own that no one ever seems to go to. You would like it, I think.” She ventured a sweet smile. “We are friends, after all.”
Friends. “Of course. Your company is always a pleasure, my lady.”
Alina blushed. “You don’t have to call me ‘my lady,’ Mr. Pendleton. We’ve known each other too long to stand on such formality.”
“Indeed,” Imogene said. “Formality is hardly what this relationship needs.”
Theo watched with amusement as Alina blushed even deeper. “Tomorrow, then?” she asked.
“Tomorrow.”
The next day couldn’t come soon enough. When it did, Theo waited until the mid-morning mark and followed the directions Alina had sketched on a slip of watercolor paper down the long beach outside the village and to the small cove. The water was calmer here, and he could see crabs and small fish moving just below the surface. Alina was already there, beneath a tree, and Imogene had laid out a blanket with fresh food and tea.
Longing for a Liberating Love: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 11
