by Fanny Finch
But Father was right. She would never get an answer about anything if she was to run away from the situation like a coward.
And she really had no other option. What was she supposed to do? Manage to hide somehow from Lord Reginald in his own house? Move in with Father in his hotel?
Stop going to balls or only go to balls that he was not going to be attending?
It was ludicrous. It would be so much easier for the both of them if she would simply swallow her pride and her fear and apologize.
She had handled the running of a household for the past few years. She had crossed an ocean. She had said the final farewell to her mother. Surely simply apologizing to someone when she made a mistake was not so hard as all of that?
Still, it terrified her.
Father gave her a sympathetic smile. “It will not be easy, I know,” he told her. “But it’s important for you to do. No relationship is perfect all the time. There will be moments where you have doubts or disagreements and you make mistakes.
“It’s inevitable, and one shouldn’t become too despairing at the prospect. It is simply how life works. It is important how you handle it, however. If you cannot handle a disagreement or making a mistake at this early juncture then you should not enter into the relationship at all.
“And all relationships are going to be like this, my dear. It is only that, for reasons unknown, we seem to be more scared of it when it comes to romance.
“If you had a friend and you argued with them—Miss Reginald, for example—would you not seek to amend things?”
“Well of course.”
“But you would not fear for the end of your friendship?”
“Not necessarily. I should be ashamed, of course. I should wish to apologize for my behavior and for upsetting her so. But I would not believe it to be the end.
“I know how much she cares for me, after all. And I know that she knows how deeply I care for her. I would seek to make amends before any real damage could be done by her assuming that I was walking away from our friendship. But that would be all.”
“Then why would you approach a potentially romantic relationship any differently?” Father pointed out. “You and the duke have a friendship. That much I think we can acknowledge. Why would you allow the possibility of romance to paralyze you with a fear you would not otherwise feel? Should you not give the relationship the same respect and treatment that you would any other?”
Maria nodded. It didn’t replace her fear, not exactly, but it helped the situation to make more sense. It made it all seem more logical, and less…less dramatic than she had been picturing it in her head.
“This will not be the last time that you make a mistake, Maria,” her father said. “And there will be times when the duke, or whomever you decide to marry, will make mistakes as well.
“If you allow this to make you afraid and cause you to run away then you have lost the relationship before it has truly begun. Apologize, accept the consequences, and ask what you might do to earn his trust back and to repair your friendship.
“From there, you will see how it unfolds.”
Maria nodded, leaning around the table to hug him. “I have missed you, Father. And I have been terribly remiss in not visiting you more.”
Father shook his head. “You were doing as I had instructed. You cannot be remiss in that.”
“That does not mean that I cannot make time for you,” Maria replied.
Father sighed. “Very well, then. I must admit that I have missed you. Tell me all about what you have been up to. And do not think to spare my feelings by omitting anything unpleasant. You are a most horrible liar, Maria, and always have been.”
Maria smiled. This felt more normal, more the way things had been.
“If you insist,” she said, teasing him.
The next few hours were quiet ones, but good ones. Father was in no condition to do anything strenuous. They went for a short walk through the hotel gardens, but mostly they stayed sitting and talking.
Or, rather, Maria did most of the talking and let her father listen. He told her there was not much for him to tell her. He had been wrapped up in business and had nothing so entertaining as balls and plays to speak to her about.
She was happy to oblige him, if that was what he wanted. She told him of their walks in the park and the art galleries and showings. She relayed to him the well-wishes of the older people she had met at the balls who remembered him and her mother with such fondness.
It seemed to do Father good to hear about all that she had been up to. Maria resolved to spend more time with him and tell him about her adventures. Not that she considered them much in the way of an adventure. But to her father, stuck in offices all day and then with the doctor…it certainly seemed like it.
She hardly even noticed the time passing until she looked at the clock and noticed that it was already well into the late morning. She had been with her father for hours.
She had told Georgiana where she would be going by giving her maid a note to give to her upon awakening. But Maria still had an obligation to the ball tonight. She had to return and get ready. And she didn’t want to make Georgiana too worried.
“I really should go,” she told Father reluctantly. “But I’ll be sure to visit you more often.”
“And you will have to tell me how it goes with your young man.”
“For the last time, Father, he is not ‘my’ anything,” Maria sighed. “But yes, I shall be sure to tell you how my apology to him goes.”
“I am glad to see you in better spirits,” Father told her. There was an edge of melancholy to his voice that made Maria sad.
She took his hands. “I am glad to see that you are holding up so well. But I want to take advantage of every moment that we have left together. I’ll return soon.”
Father nodded, and Maria had to hold in her own melancholy as she left the hotel and headed back to the Reginald household.
She knew that she only had so much time left with her father. She had noticed the coughs he had tried to hide. The circles under his eyes. He was holding up remarkably well given the arduous journey across the sea and then the change to a damp, cold environment.
In the face of that…in the face of her father’s impending illness and even his…well.
It made her own romantic woes seem so much smaller and less important in comparison. She had been wringing her hands over something as simple as a mistake, something that an apology could fix, while her father was setting up his finances for his impending death.
If her father could deal with his own mortality with such dignity and grace, how could she not deal with something as simple as telling the duke that she was sorry? Her father was giving everything up. Selling the plantation. Rearranging his finances.
Surely she could manage a few earnest words.
Maria squared her shoulders and entered the Reginald household. She could handle this. She would handle this.
And whatever the outcome would be, she would accept it with dignity and maturity. In a way that would make her father proud.
She looked around the foyer. Should she go to Lord Reginald now? Wait for him later? She didn’t want to disturb him but she also didn’t want too much time to pass. The longer they went on without a reconciliation, the more awkward it would become. Especially with their attending social events together.
“Miss Worthing?”
Maria nearly jumped out of her skin, turning.
There he was. Standing there, looking oddly contrite and unsure.
She took a deep breath. Now, or never.
Chapter 18
Edward heard her the moment that she entered the house.
He felt rather like a stalker, sitting there in the parlor and waiting for her to come home. But he had finished writing his speech and had it approved by Georgiana. There was really nothing else that he could do except wait for Miss Worthing to return.
He had struggled for quite a long time over the writing of his sp
eech. He did not want to seem too harsh, as he was wont. Nor did he wish to sound flowery or pompous.
Georgiana had gotten an amused gleam in her eye when she’d read the first few drafts of his letter.
“Edward, really. You must learn how to appeal to the softer feelings of a woman. God help you if you ever attempted to write any form of love poetry.
“I have also failed to notice any sort of declaration of your more romantic feelings for Miss Worthing.”
“I thought it best to leave them out.” He had felt like a schoolboy, shuffling foot to foot and struggling to meet her eyes instead of looking down at his feet. “I have only just realized them. How can I express my feelings to her when I am still getting properly acquainted with them?”
“That is fair enough, I cannot fault you for that reasoning. But if you are to hold yourself back in your words, you ought to hold yourself back in your actions as well. Give the other poor men a chance at the ball tonight. And I mean a proper chance. No hovering over Miss Worthing or swooping in to ask her for a dance first thing.”
He had wanted to clench his jaw and grind his teeth at the thought, but he had nodded curtly. “I shall do my best.”
Then he had gone to rewrite the draft of his speech.
Now he could hear Miss Worthing pausing in the foyer. Was she hesitant? Was she nervous?
Was she scared of him?
He would not blame her if she were, after how harshly he had spoken to her the night before. He must have intimidated her. He knew how nervous Miss Worthing got when interacting with other people.
He and his sister were the only two people around whom she felt truly comfortable. And what did he do with that trust? With that feeling of safety? He had shot it to bits as if he were going shooting for clay pigeons. And he had been just as merciless about it as well.
He would never forgive himself if she were truly scared of him. If she flinched when he went to speak with her, refused to meet his eyes, stepped away when he came near.
But there was nothing for him to do except approach her. If he let it go for too long then the silence would become more awkward than it already was.
Besides, the longer he waited, the more that she would think that he didn’t regret anything that he had said. That he truly thought her to be shallow and all of the other horrible things that he had said to her, about her.
No, he must do this now.
He stood up, reading over the paper in his hand one last time, even though he already had it memorized. Then he folded it up and placed it inside his pocket and walked out into the foyer.
Miss Worthing gave a little jump when she heard him approaching and turned. Her eyes met his.
She looked tired. More than that, she looked nervous. He had made her that way, had he not? He had made her nervous to be around him.
It used to be—just yesterday—that she smiled at him when he drew near. That she was eager to spend time in his company. That she welcomed his time and his presence.
Now it was the opposite. And it was all his doing.
He tried to stand tall and not shuffle about. He was a duke, for goodness’ sake. He handled the affairs of dozens of tenants. He attended meetings all over London. He charmed his way through the networks and careful social and political maneuverings of the various clubs in the city.
And here he was, getting nervous over a simple apology.
Miss Worthing looked at him with a mixture of concern and apology in her eyes. Why was she feeling apologetic? He was the one who had made a horrible mess of things.
He cleared his throat. “Miss Worthing, I—”
“You must allow me to apologize,” Miss Worthing blurted out.
He blinked, startled. “You—I beg your pardon?”
Miss Worthing twisted her fingers around one another. “I know that you are most likely still angry with me. And I cannot blame you for being cross.
“I was a most awful person last night. I was scared of being teased and made a fool of yet again. I was worried about dragging you and your sister down by association if I continued to be seen as a backwards bumpkin.
“I wanted to be treated as the others in the ball are. I wanted to be seen as an equal. As someone who was sophisticated and mature.
“I wanted to be like the other women. Not that I approve of cattiness or thoughtless behavior. But I let myself indulge in it because I wanted to be included. I wanted to feel as though I were welcomed by everyone. That I was the same as everyone else.
“And that was wrong of me. I should have stayed true to myself. Or at least stayed firm in my ability to think kindly of others. And to put them before myself.
“I was thinking selfishly and that allowed me to behave selfishly. It was wrong of me. And I let you down. I know how much you value honesty and forthrightness and compassion. I had none of those things last night.
“You were right to chastise me. All of the things that you said were true. I only hope that you will now give me a chance to make it up to you. To show you that I am earnest in my contriteness.
“Please, tell me that there is some way that I can show you how apologetic I am. How much I regret my actions. You and your sister have been so terribly kind to me while I have been here. You have treated me with so much kindness and respect.
“And you owed me nothing. You could have so easily found an excuse to turn me away. Or you could have simply housed me and then ignored me for the rest of the time.
“You didn’t have to dedicate as much time and care to me as you have. As you did. You welcomed me as if I were family. And I can never repay you enough for that or properly show you the depth of my gratitude.
“And I paid you back for your kind treatment by disappointing you and acting in the way that I know you deplore. I only wanted to fit in and to show you that I could fit in. That I was not helpless in society. That I could mingle and handle whatever was thrown at me at a ball.
“But it was misguided of me and I apologize. I do not know how often or how many ways I can say it in order for you to believe me but…it is true.”
Miss Worthing’s breath left her in a final, shaky gasp. She stood there, wringing her hands a bit, but determinedly meeting Edward’s eyes.
Edward was astounded. He had never considered the fact that Miss Worthing might think that she had to apologize.
He supposed that she might think that, from her perspective. After all, what he had said was overly harsh, but it was also true. She had become unlike herself.
But surely his reaction had been too much. She had not deserved the extreme reaction that he had given her. She should be coming to him expecting an apology. No, demanding one. She should not be standing there nervous and worried in front of him.
It was supposed to be the other way around.
Still, he understood where she was coming from if he thought about it. Were he in her shoes, he would be apologizing as well. She knew that she had done wrong, behaved badly, and she was trying to fix it.
He could not fault her for that.
Miss Worthing, however, seemed to be taking his continued silence for disapproval and anger rather than astonishment.
“Please do not be angry with me,” she blurted out. “Or, if you are—I cannot tell you how to feel. I would never presume… I only…”
All of the things he had been thinking of saying flew out of his head.
“Miss Worthing, please,” he said, interrupting her before she could work herself up any further. “You do not need to continue to press for my forgiveness. It is given. Given, in fact, before you even sought it.”
Miss Worthing, it appeared, was now taking her turn to be astonished. Her words died away and she stared at him. Her mouth was open a little and she was starting to blush again.
It was easier to see her blushing now that her tan was fading. The English weather was not conducive to obtaining dark skin. In a way, he missed the tan. But he liked that he was able to see her blush better.
“
I do not understand,” she said at last. Her voice was very small. Like that of a mouse. “I behaved horribly. How can you forgive me so easily?”
“Especially when I was so angry?” he asked, adding on the part of her thoughts that he knew she would not say aloud.
Miss Worthing looked horribly embarrassed and gave a small cough. “Yes. I mean—that is—you had a right to be angry. I did not think that it would fade so fast, that is all. After a transgression such as mine.”
He shook his head. “No. My anger was quick to rise but it was wrong of it to do so. I allowed it to control me and to hurt you. I should have been more sympathetic. I should have realized how frustrated and scared you were feeling at those parties.”
