Who Will Take This Man?

Seventeen

Meredith had known since last night that he intended to ask her to marry him, and she was prepared to answer him. But she had not anticipated a declaration of love. I love you, Meredith. Those words, spoken in that deep, serious voice, left her reeling.

Hot tears pushed behind her eyes and she bit down on the inside of her cheeks in an effort to gain control. She wanted to scream, to rail at the fates and circumstances that would rob her of her chance of happiness with this man… this man she loved. Who, incredibly, loved her in return.

But he doesn’t truly love you, Meredith, her inner voice interjected. How could he? He doesn’t really know you. The real you. The lying, cheating, stealing you. The you that your respectable, matchmaker persona hides. You tell him the truth, and his love will disappear.

And, she realized with a sinking heart, she would have to do just that-tell him the truth-all of it, thus extinguishing the tiny flame of hope that she might be able to convince him of their incompatibility without revealing her past. But she knew him well enough to realize that as long as he harbored the belief that he loved her, she would never convince him that a marriage between them was impossible. And if his heart wasn’t free of her, he would not pursue another woman. So she’d have to prove to him that he didn’t love her after all. Give him back his heart. So he could give it to someone else.

Feeling far too vulnerable in her reclined position, she said, “I’d like to sit up, please.” He helped her, his hands warm and firm on her shoulders. Once she was upright, he poured her a tumbler of water, from which she gratefully sipped. Then she looked down at her forest-green gown and grimaced at the dirt marring the material, a fitting symbol of the mess her life had recently become.

She turned toward Philip, who now sat next to her, his eyes serious. And hopeful. Gathering her courage, she met his gaze and forced herself to speak the words her heart wanted so desperately not to say. “Philip, I cannot marry you.”

“May I ask why not?”

How she longed to snap out, No, you may not. But she owed him the truth. Unable to sit still under his regard any longer, she slipped her hands from his, then rose. Drawing a bracing breath, she lifted her chin. “I’m afraid I have not been entirely honest with you, Philip. There are things about me, about my past, that you do not know. Things that prevent me from considering marriage.”

“Such as?”

She began to pace in front of him. Her muscles protested, but she simply could not remain still. “We are not just simply from different social backgrounds, Philip,” she began. “I’m afraid that my past is the sort that, if the circumstances were to come to light, would cast shame and scandal upon your family’s name and render us both outcasts. I… I left my home at an early age. It was an unhappy place from which I could not wait to escape. I made my way to London, but unfortunately I did not realize the hardships I would face on my own. My meager funds quickly ran out, as did my choices. My options narrowed down to dying of starvation or doing what I had to in order to survive. I chose to survive. In order to do so, I had precisely two choices. I could prostitute myself, which I adamantly refused to do.” She paused in front of him and pressed her hands to her jittery midsection. “That left stealing. And that is what I did.”

She quickly resumed her pacing, not wanting to see the inevitable disgust enter his eyes. “I stole anything I could. Money. Jewelry. Food. At first I wasn’t very good at it, and the only thing that saved me from capture on numerous occasions was my ability to run fast. But I learned quickly. I had no choice. There were times I was so hungry, I risked my life for a slice of bread.” Images she’d spent years forgetting rushed to the front of her mind. Huddled in dark, frightening alleyways. Running for her life.

Shaking off the memories, she continued, “I became an amazingly adept pickpocket. I moved about to different places to avoid capture, saving every farthing I could, because I wanted to leave the sordid life I was leading as soon as possible. I was determined to become respectable. To lead a decent, honest life. As far from the one I’d run away from as possible. When I’d stolen enough money, I purchased some decent clothing, then set about finding employment. I was fortunate enough to meet Mrs. Barcastle. She was a wealthy widow in need of a traveling companion.”

Pausing in her pacing, she turned and faced him squarely. “Traveling with Mrs. Barcastle over the course of the next year, I pickpocketed my way through Brighton and Bath, Bristol and Cardiff, and every place in between.”

Something that looked like compassion, but surely could not have been, flickered in his eyes. “You are fortunate you were not caught.”

“I was very good. And quite invisible. In the social circles in which we traveled, no one glanced at me-the plain, hired companion. I was like a white spot on a white wall.”

Drawing another bracing breath, she continued, “Under Mrs. Barcastle’s kind tutelage, I practiced to improve my speech and manners. By the time we returned to London, I had enough money to abandon my larcenous ways and begin establishing my new, respectable identity. As I possessed a flair for matching compatible personalities, I decided to try my hand at matchmaking. I was successful almost immediately, with Mrs. Barcastle herself being my first client. She recommended my services to her friends, and little by little my reputation grew. I eventually purchased the house where I now live, and have managed to maintain a comfortable existence. The marriage I arranged between you and Lady Sarah was the culmination of fifteen years of hard work, and a lifetime of dreams.”

Standing before him, she gripped her hands together at her waist and forced herself not to avert her gaze. “After much soul-searching, I have come to terms with my past. But I’m not naive enough to believe that anyone else would or could do the same. Especially the members of Society. Now that you know the truth, I’m sure you can understand why I cannot consider accepting your proposal. For a certainty, you never would have issued a proposal if you’d been in possession of the full truth.” A little voice reminded her that he still was not in possession of the full truth, but surely she could be spared telling him the rest…

Without breaking eye contact, he rose and stood before her. He made no move to touch her, a fact which did not surprise her, but hurt just the same. Clenching her hands, she braced herself for the recriminations she knew were coming.

The most deafening silence she’d ever heard stretched between them, until she thought she would scream. Finally he said quietly, “Thank you for telling me, Meredith. I can only imagine how difficult it was for you to do so.”

Dear God, he had no idea how difficult it had been. To say the words that would cost her him. And free his heart. “You’re welcome.”

“You’re wrong about one thing, however.”

“What is that?”

“That I never would have issued a proposal if I’d been in possession of the full truth.” Reaching out, he lightly grasped her shoulders. Looking directly into her eyes, he said, “I knew, Meredith.”

Her heart seemed to stall, then stumble over itself. Surely she’d misheard him. “I beg your pardon?”

“I knew. About your past as a pickpocket.”

She could only stare at him in stunned amazement, grateful for his grasp upon her shoulders, as her knees suddenly felt decidedly wobbly. Her mind raced. The only people who knew were Charlotte and Albert, and they would never reveal such details about her to anyone. “How…?” It was the only word she could manage.

“Quite by accident, I assure you. The night I made inquiries regarding Taggert, I spoke to a tavern keep named Ramsey who’d been acquainted with Taggert. Ramsey told me quite a bit about the vile bastard, including a story of how he once witnessed, through the tavern window, Taggert dump a chimney boy on the side of the road like a sack of garbage. Ramsey left the tavern and started toward the boy, but before he reached him, a young woman, scarcely more than a girl, ran to the boy. She knelt next to him, then scooped him up in her arms.”

“Dear God,” she whispered. “A man came up to me. He asked if the boy was all right. I said, ‘He’s hurt. I must bring him home.’ He asked if the boy was my brother. I lied and said yes. I was afraid if I said I didn’t even know him that someone would take him away from me. Toss him into the street again and leave him there. Or give him back to that horrible man who’d thrown him away like yesterday’s trash.”

“Ramsey told me that the girl who carried off the boy seemed familiar. It took him a few minutes to place her, as she’d grown up, and cleaned up, since he’d seen her last, but there was no mistaking those vivid, aqua eyes. She was the same street urchin who used to steal food from his tavern and pick the pockets of his clientele.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “You were quite the bane of his existence for a number of months.”

Meredith began to shake all over, battered by incredulity and confusion. “You’ve known. Since that night you asked about Taggert.”

“Yes.”

“You knew when you invited me to your home for dinner.”

“Yes.”

“When you arranged that elaborate meal and decorations.”

“Yes.”

“And you said nothing about it.”

“No.”

“But why?” She felt the strong need to sit down, and locked her knees to stiffen the watery sensation suddenly plaguing them.

“Because I was hoping you’d tell me yourself.” Releasing her shoulders, he framed her face between his palms. “I am humbled by your trust in me. And the feelings you must have for me, to tell me something so deeply private.”

Dear God, this was not going at all the way it was supposed to! Stepping away from him, she said, “I did not tell you out of any deep feelings, Philip. I told you because you would not accept a simple no for an answer. Because you needed to understand how stupendously mismatched we are.”

“You mean how stupendously mismatched you think we are. Because of things you did to survive when you were little more than a child. Well, I disagree with your assessment. Actually, my disagreement falls into the category of ‘strenuously disagree.’ I’ve seen the lengths people can be driven to by poverty and fear and hunger. I do not think any less of you for surviving. Indeed, I greatly admire that you overcame such tragedy to become the intelligent, kind, decent woman you are. It has been my experience that adversity either breaks people or strengthens them. And those that it strengthens are often blessed with a special sort of compassion for others who face the same sort of adversity. You have that compassion, Meredith. That strength of spirit. And they are just a few of the many things I love about you. Now, I shall ask you again. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Dear God, he meant what he said. But he still did not know the entire truth. “There’s more, Philip. It… it has to do with the reason I left home. Do you recall me telling you that my father was a tutor and my mother a governess?”

“Yes, of course.”

“That was but another lie.” She licked her dust-dry lips. “There’s no easy way to tell you, so I shall simply say it. I have no idea who my father is. Neither did my mother. He was just one of many men she entertained at the brothel where she worked. At the brothel where I grew up. The brothel I ran away from when I turned thirteen because it was time for me to start earning my keep and I refused to do so. The brothel that my mother refused to leave because she thought being a whore was the only thing she was good at. The brothel where she died of syphilis.” Tears wetted her cheeks, but she could not stop the flow of words now that she’d started. It was as if she’d lanced a wound and all the poison was flowing out.

“I went back once. After I was settled in London. I tried to convince her to come live with me, but she refused. It was the most awful visit.” She shut her eyes briefly, vividly recalling her mother’s haggard appearance. And the house… God, she hated that place. Hated the crude, raucous noises, the smells of stale liquor and smoke and bodies. “I never saw her again. The last correspondence I had from her arrived six months later. She’d written me a letter and asked one of the girls from the brothel to deliver it to me. That girl was Charlotte.”

“Your friend, Mrs. Carlyle.” It was impossible to gauge his reaction from his neutral tone and expression.

“Yes. The story of her being a widow was but yet another fabrication. Charlotte, who was pregnant, was accosted on her way to my home and arrived beaten and bruised. Albert and I nursed her back to health, and she has lived with us ever since. When she gave birth to her daughter, we all agreed that the perfect name for the child was Hope.” She drew in a long, deep breath, then slowly exhaled.

“The reason my matchmaking enterprise is so important to me is because of my upbringing. I used to hide in the cupboard under the stairs thinking, if only Mama had married, how different both our lives would have been. And the same for all the other girls in the brothel-if only they’d found kind, decent men to marry, their lives would have been so different…”

Shaking off the remnants of the past, she said softly, “So now you see why any further association, let alone a marriage, between us is impossible. I told you on more than one occasion I’ve never intended to marry. I would find it impossible to keep up the pretense and lies regarding my past with a husband-someone I’d have to live with on a daily basis. Nor would I expect any man to accept not only my past, but the pasts of the people closest to me, for I would never abandon Albert, Charlotte, and Hope. The fact that this tavern keep Ramsey recognized me all those years ago-what if he were to see me again? The whole ugly truth could come out. It is a fear, and a possibility that lives inside me every day. A woman with a past like mine could cost you everything, Philip. Your social standing, your future, everything. ”

They stood in silence, looking at each other, the six-foot expanse of rug between them seeming like an ocean, his expression impossible to decipher. She’d told him. Everything. All that was left was to say good-bye. A simple word, yet she could not seem to push it past her lips.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he spoke. “You’ve presented everything in your usual clear, concise manner, but there are still three questions I’d like to ask you-if you have no objections.”

“Of course.”

“My first question is, except for details regarding your background, have you ever lied to me?”

“No.” A humorless sound escaped her. “But with regard to my background, I’ve accumulated an impressive number of offenses. What is the second question?”

“Do you love me?”

The question stilled everything inside her. Do you love me? How could she deny it? Yet how could she admit it? And to what end? Telling him how she felt about him would only make their parting more painful. “I cannot see how that matters, Philip.”

“It matters a great deal to me.” Eyes steady on hers, he stepped toward her, not stopping until less than two feet remained between them. Her heart pounded so hard, she could feel her blood drumming through her veins. Reaching out, he clasped her hands, then raised them to his lips. “It is a simple question, Meredith.” His words warmed his breath against her chilled fingers.

“There is nothing simple about it.”

“On the contrary, it requires nothing more than a simple yes-or-no response. Do you love me?”

She wanted to he. Damnation, she’d uttered so many untruths over the years, surely telling one more should not cause such anguish. But she couldn’t push the falsehood past her lips. Lowering her chin, she stared at their clasped hands and whispered, “Yes.”

He squeezed her hands, then pressed her palms against his chest. Through his shirt, his heartbeat thumped against her hands, strong and steady. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he touched his fingers beneath her chin and raised her face until she had no choice but to look into his eyes. Eyes whose expression in no way reflected the disgust she’d anticipated. Indeed, his gaze was warm with tenderness. And unmistakable love.

“My third question is, will you marry me?”

Her breath left her lungs in a whoosh. She tried to step back, but his arm tightened, holding her in place. “Have you not been listening?” she asked, her voice rising to an incredulous level. “I am a bastard. I grew up in a brothel. My mother was a prostitute. I spent years as a thief.”

“You told me you’d made peace with your past. Yet you cannot seem to let it go.”

“I have made peace with my past. But just because I can accept it doesn’t mean anyone else would. The things I’ve done, my background, are unacceptable. Society, your own family, would never accept me. You know they wouldn’t.”

“You cannot help nor be blamed for the circumstances surrounding your birth, Meredith. Nor are you responsible for your mother’s actions. What you see as insurmountable obstacles, I view as reasons to admire your strength and determination to overcome such daunting odds. As for Society rejecting you, yes, I’m certain most of them would if they were to learn the things you confided in me today. However, I don’t care a jot about Society. I suffered at the expense of their petty cruelties until I left England. I owe them nothing-most especially the woman I love. As for my family, Catherine has already given our union her blessing. She married a man from our social class-a baron with a pedigree and fortune-but they do not love each other, and she is miserably unhappy. She does not want the same misfortune to befall me.”

He moved one step closer, leaving only a hairbreadth between them. “When I returned to England, I was fully prepared to marry a woman I barely knew in order to keep my word to my father. I am no longer willing to do that. The thought of marrying anyone but you is completely impossible. Other people may not accept you, Meredith. But I do. Exactly as you are. And isn’t that really all that matters?”

Meredith started to tremble. Thank God his arm supported her, or she surely would have wilted to the floor. He’d listened to all her objections, then had swept them aside as if he wielded a broom.

“What if you are unable to break the curse, Philip?”

“Then I would humbly request that you be the wife of my heart, Meredith. I would not shame you, or our feelings for each other, by asking you to live openly in England as my mistress-especially now that I fully understand all the reasons for your aversion to such an arrangement. If I cannot rid myself of the curse, then we could leave England, travel abroad, anywhere you wished, and represent ourselves as husband and wife. If the curse prevents me from pledging my life to you in a church, it still cannot prevent me from pledging it to you.”

He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Whether it is because of the decade I spent away from Society, or simply my nature, there are very few people whose opinion truly carries any weight with me. Your past, our arrangement- whatever we decide it is to be-is private, between you and me. What anyone else thinks does not matter.”

Dear God, he made it all seem so reasonable, and possible. Still, one small matter remained…

She shifted out of his arms, and put several feet between them. “Um, Philip, I’m afraid I have a confession to make. Several minutes ago, I pilfered your watch from your waistcoat pocket.” She slipped her hand into the deep pocket of her gown to retrieve the piece. “I did it to demonstrate how completely unacceptable I would be as a candidate for your wife, and had every intention of returning it to you…” Her voice trailed off and a frown pulled down her brows as her fingers swept through her pocket. Her empty pocket.

“Is this what you’re looking for?”

Her gaze riveted on him slowly extracting his watch from his waistcoat pocket. “H-how…?”

He casually snapped open the gold cover, consulted the time, then returned the piece to his pocket with equal nonchalance. Then a slow, devastating smile curved his lips upward. “I picked up several skills while abroad. The ability to pinch items from someone’s pocket, for instance. Bakari instructed me on the finer points, strictly for survival reasons, you understand. Came in quite handy on more than one occasion.”

She actually felt her jaw drop open. “You stole things?”

“I prefer to call it retrieving my own personal items that were stolen from me first. Many places I visited were rampant with thieves and pickpockets. Since I strongly objected to being relieved of my property, I merely beat them at their own game.”

Meredith shook her head in amazed disbelief. “Incredible. You’re very good. I didn’t feel a thing.”

“Thank you. Heartwarming to know I haven’t lost my touch. However, as long as we’re exchanging confessions, I must tell you that I did, on one occasion, use my talents to confiscate something that did not belong to me. While in Syria, Bakari, Andrew, and I, through a rather circuitous series of events, were imprisoned in a dungeon. I pinched the key from the guard’s pocket, and we escaped.”

Her eyes goggled. “Imprisoned in a dungeon? Did you accidentally lock yourselves in?”

“Not exactly. It is a very involved tale, one I will happily share with you-but not right now. Right now we have much more important things to discuss.” Erasing the distance between them with a single long stride, he drew her into his arms. “Do you have any other last-minute confessions to make?”

Dazed, she shook her head.

“Excellent. Neither do I. Therefore, all that is left is for you to answer my question. Will you marry me?”

He was looking at her with an expression that robbed her of breath. Love, tenderness, admiration, and heated longing all emanated from his gaze. Everything she’d always wanted but had been convinced could never be hers now stood before her. All the feelings and yearnings she’d ever hidden in her heart burst free, flooding her with a happiness she hadn’t dared hope possible.

Staring at him in wonder, scarcely able to believe this wasn’t a dream, she reached up and framed his face between her hands. “I love you, Philip. With all my heart. Yes, I will marry you. And I will strive every day to be a good and proper wife to you.”

She felt the tension drain from his body. Lowering his head, he pressed his forehead to hers. “Thank God. I thought you were going to say no.”

“You were very persuasive.”

“Because I love you so very much.” He gently touched his lips to hers, a kiss filled with love and promise, and one that quickly flared into a passionate mating of lips and tongues. Heat raced through her, and, wrapping her arms around his neck, she raised up on her toes, pressing herself against him.

Philip tightened his arms around her, and tried his damnedest to curb his ardor, but he was lost. Lost in the soft, supple feel of her. The delicious, sweet taste of her.

Lost in the knowledge that she loved him. That she would be his wife. That she was his to love and touch and kiss. To laugh with and love with.

Her fingers wreaked havoc with his hair while his hands ran restlessly down her back, urging her closer, then skimming lower to cup her buttocks. His erection strained against his tight breeches, and a guttural groan vibrated in his throat. Summoning his last ounce of will, he broke off their kiss. He blinked behind his fogged-up lenses, then impatiently pulled off his spectacles and tossed them onto the end table.

He looked down into Meredith’s glazed eyes, and a groan of pure masculine need pushed past his lips. With her lips damp and parted, her eyelids at half mast, and her color high, she looked well kissed and thoroughly aroused. And he knew if he kissed her again, he’d give in to the need clawing at him. “Meredith, if we don’t stop now, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop at all.”

She looked at him with an expression that stilled him. “I don’t recall asking you to stop.”