Not Quite A Gentleman

Twenty-two

Today’s Modern Woman should refrain from making any life-altering decisions “in the heat of the moment.” She should step back from the situation and give herself ample opportunity to carefully review the situation from all angles so as to make a decision she will not later regret.

A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of

Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment

by Charles Brightmore

Dinner that evening seemed a somber, tense affair to Victoria, although she wasn’t certain if it was indeed that way or simply a reflection of her own mood. Certainly there was little conversation. Only Lord Sutton seemed animated, and he soon fell quiet when all his attempts at small talk withered. As soon as the interminable meal ended, Victoria excused herself to see to her packing. No sooner had she arrived in her bedchamber than she heard a knock on the door. Was it Nathan? Heart pounding, she called, “Come in,” but it was only her maid Winifred to assist her. After everything was packed except her night rail and the clothes she would wear tomorrow, Winifred left. Walking to the window, Victoria looked down at the moonlit lawn. Her fingers clasped the lacquered shell hanging around her neck. She hadn’t had a chance to speak privately to Nathan, but surely he would come to her tonight. Her last night.

A quiet knock sounded at the door and her heart leapt. Crossing the room at a near run, she pulled open the door. Aunt Delia stood in the corridor.

“May I speak to you, Victoria?”

“Of course,” she said, guilt pricking at her for her disappointment. “Please come in.” After closing the door, Victoria asked, “Are you all right? You look… flushed.”

“I’m fine. Indeed, I’m marvelous. And most assuredly flushing. From happiness.” Reaching out, she clasped Victoria’s hands. “I want you to be the first to know, darling. Lord Rutledge has asked me to marry him and I’ve accepted.”

Victoria stared at her aunt in stunned amazement. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’re happy for me. Say you wish me years of joy.”

“I do. Of course I do. I’m just surprised. You haven’t known each other very long.”

“True, but I know everything I need to. I know he’s honorable and kind. Generous and loving. He makes me laugh. He loves me. And I love him. He is everything I did not have in my first husband, and I feel blessed to be given this opportunity for happiness and companionship at this stage of my life.” She squeezed Victoria’s hands. “It may seem like we’ve only known each other a short time, but my dear, it only takes the heart a single beat to know what it wants.”

Moisture warmed Victoria’s eyes and she pulled her aunt into a snug embrace. “Dear Aunt Delia. I’m delighted for you both.” Pulling back, she asked, “Have you decided upon a date?”

“Yes. One month from today. Here, in Rutledge’s parish.”

“But that’s an enormous amount of traveling for you…” Victoria’s words trailed off as understanding dawned. “You’re staying here. You’re not leaving with me and Father tomorrow.”

“No. I wish to remain here. Become better acquainted with this lovely house, this quaint area which shall become my new home.”

Victoria blinked. “But what of your love for Society and London? Your life there?”

Aunt Delia laughed. “Don’t look so stricken, darling. Rutledge has agreed to spend the Season in Town if I wish.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “And as for my love of Society and London, I can only say that my love for Rutledge far exceeds any fondness I have for city life.” She gave Victoria a searching look. “Have you spoken to Dr. Oliver this evening?”

“Not privately, no.” To her mortification, hot tears pushed behind her eyes. “I don’t know how I’m going to say good-bye to him,” she whispered.

Her aunt’s eyes grew troubled. “Your heart will tell you the right thing to say, Victoria. The right thing to do. Listen to what it tells you.” It appeared she wanted to say something more, but instead she merely brushed a quick kiss against Victoria’s cheek. “I’ll leave you now, my dear. I’ll see you in the morning before you leave.” With no further explanation, her aunt quit the room.

Victoria stood frozen in place, staring at the closed door. A myriad of emotions ambushed her, hitting her with such force she staggered to the nearest chair, an overstuffed chintz settee set in front of the fireplace, and sat down with an unladylike plop.

Aunt Delia’s announcement of her decision to marry Lord Rutledge had stunned her. Literally left her breathless. Dazed. Happy. But underneath all that, there was something else. Something she feared looking at too closely because it felt suspiciously like…

Envy.

A single tap sounded at the door. Before she could rouse herself to answer, the door opened and Nathan walked in. Their gazes met and Victoria’s throat swelled with emotion. God help her, she loved him so much she ached. How had she allowed this to happen? Was there any chance he felt the same way about her? He’d never said so. Yet even if he did, what did it matter? Their lives were so drastically different.

But what if he had fallen in love with her? What if, like his father had offered her aunt, Nathan intended to offer her marriage? The mere thought brought on a sensation she couldn’t define. Was it elation-or fear? None of this-Nathan, falling in love with him-had been in her plans. How could she consider giving up everything she’d planned her entire life based on a weeklong affair?

An affair based on a spark that was lit three years ago, her inner voice whispered slyly. But perhaps she had nothing to worry about. He hadn’t said he loved her. Or wanted her in any way beyond what they’d already shared. If she’d been capable of doing so, she would have laughed at her own conceit. Here she was fretting about a proposal that he’d never given any indication he intended to offer. A proposal she wasn’t prepared to hear. Still, if she became all choked up just looking at him, how would she be able to say good-bye to him tomorrow?

After closing and locking the door behind him, he walked slowly toward her, his gaze riveted on hers. He carried a wrapped parcel in one hand and a single red rose in the other. He rounded the settee, then sat next to her, setting his package on the floor. He held out the rose to her. “For you.”

She touched the velvety petals. “Thank you.”

“I checked on your father. He’s doing well. Exceedingly well if one judges health by the level of complaints coming from the patient.”

She smiled weakly. “He dislikes inactivity.”

“Indeed? I hadn’t particularly noticed. I also spoke to my father and your aunt. They told you their news.”

“Yes.”

He studied her face. “You’re not pleased?”

“Yes, of course I am. No one deserves joy more than Aunt Delia. It’s just that I’m…”

“What?”

Envious of their happiness. Of my aunt’s daring. “I’m just surprised,” she finished lamely. “Aren’t you?”

“Actually, no. I had a conversation with my father that made it clear he cared deeply for your aunt. It’s good to see him so happy. Good to see them both so happy.” His gaze searched hers. “When I opened the door, you looked pensive. What were you thinking?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

A faint smile touched his lips. “Yes.”

“I was wondering how I was going to say good-bye to you.”

His gaze turned troubled. “I’ve been wondering that very same thing with regards to you.”

She had to press her lips together to keep from asking if he’d come up with a solution. Reaching down, he picked up the package he’d set on the floor and handed it to her.

“After much thought, I decided this was the best farewell I could give you.”

Placing her rose on the mahogany end table, she laid the package on her lap and carefully unwrapped the layers of tissue paper. When she looked down at the book nestled in the wrappings, her breath caught. Reverently, she brushed her fingertip over the title.

“Histoires ou contes du temps passé, avec des moralités: Contes de ma mère l’Oye,” she whispered. “Tales of Mother Goose?” She turned to the first page and saw the publication year: 1697. “It’s a first edition,” she said, awed. “Wherever did you find one?”

“I didn’t have to look very far, as it was in my traveling trunk. That is my copy.”

Victoria’s head snapped up from admiring the book and she stared at him. “The copy you said you wouldn’t consider selling for any sum? The copy that was the last gift you received from your mother before she died?”

“Yes.”

Her heart began a slow, hard beat. “Why would you give me something so valuable to you?”

“I wanted you to have something to remember me by.”

The tiny flame of impossible, ridiculous hope inside her that had been struggling to stay lit was suddenly extinguished. He indeed intended to say good-bye.

She should be glad. Relieved. It was for the best. And surely as soon as she didn’t feel so enervated, so numb, she would feel all those things.

I wanted you to have something to remember me by. Dear God, as if she would ever, could ever, forget him. “I… don’t know what to say.”

“Do you like it?”

She looked into his eyes, so serious, so beautiful, and a sob rose in her throat. She attempted to cover it up with a laugh, but the effort failed miserably, and to her mortification, hot tears pushed at her eyes. “I love it.” And I love you. And I desperately wish I didn’t because nothing ever has hurt this badly.

Should she tell him? Tell him he owned her heart, and that it was breaking at the thought of leaving him? No! her inner voice screamed, and she realized she’d be a fool to tell a man who was clearly determined to say good-bye that she loved him.

Blinking back her tears, she straightened her spine and offered him a smile. “Thank you, Nathan. I’ll treasure it always.”

“I’m glad. Since I cannot give you the fairy-tale ending you’ve always planned, I at least wanted to give you the fairy tale.”

“Will I ever see you again?” she asked, her voice shaking and barely above a whisper.

Framing her face between his hands, he studied her through serious eyes. Finally he said, “I don’t know. That is up to… Fate. All I do know is that we have this one last night together. And I want to make it unforgettable.” He leaned forward and softly touched his lips to hers. When he started to lean back, a sense of desperation unlike anything she’d ever known flooded her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him back toward her.

“Again,” she whispered against his mouth. “Again.”

And as he had the first time she made that demand of him three years ago, he obliged her.

And when she awoke the next morning, she was alone.

“Are you all right, Victoria?”

Her father’s voice penetrated the fog of despair enveloping her. She pulled her gaze from the window of the coach that with every turn of its wheels sent her farther away from Nathan.

“I’m…” looking into her father’s concern-filled eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to lie and say she was fine. “Tired.” God knew that was the truth.

Father frowned and his jaw moved back and forth, as it always did when he puzzled over something. Offering him the best smile she could muster under the circumstances, she returned her gaze to the window. How long ago had they left Creston Manor? An hour? It felt like a lifetime. And as much as she loved Father, she dearly wished she were alone. To mourn the end of her affair in private. To shed the tears that hovered so close to the surface. To hold the book Nathan had given her against her heart.

Dear God, how was it possible to feel so much pain when she felt so utterly dead inside? Her eyelids slid closed and instantly a dozen images danced in her mind’s eye-of Nathan smiling. Laughing. Making love to her. Saying good-bye at the carriage this morning as if they were nothing more than polite acquaintances-

“Damn it all, you’re crying. That does it.”

Victoria’s eyes flew open at her father’s fierce words, and to her mortification she realized that tears had indeed silently leaked down her cheeks. Before she could reach for her handkerchief, Father pressed his into her hand. Then, with a fierce scowl, he reached into his waistcoat pocket and withdrew a folded piece of vellum.

“I was instructed not to give this to you until after we’d reached London, but since I never actually gave my word that I would wait, I’m not going to.” He held out the vellum, which was sealed with a blob of red wax.

“Instructed by whom?”

“Nathan. He gave it to me last night and asked that I hold it until we were resettled in London. To give you some time to think. To reflect. About what you want. But a blind man could see that you’re heartbroken and miserable, and I can’t bear to watch it a moment longer. If there’s even the slightest chance that whatever he’s written might make you feel better, I’ll risk his displeasure.”

Victoria reached out an unsteady hand and took the vellum. After breaking the seal, she slowly unfolded the thick ivory paper and, with her heart pounding, read the neatly scrawled words:

My dearest Victoria,

Here is a story to include in the Tales of Mother Goose, entitled “The Ordinary Man Who Loved a Princess”:

Once upon a time, there was a very ordinary man who lived in the country in a small cottage. The man went through each day thinking his life was very fine and good until one day he met a beautiful princess from the city from whom he stole a kiss. As soon as he did so, he regretted it because from that moment on, no other kiss but hers would do, which was very bad because very ordinary men have nothing to offer princesses.

The memory of that single kiss lived in the man’s heart, burning like a candle he couldn’t extinguish. Then, three years after that kiss, he saw the princess again. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. But by then the princess was destined to marry a wealthy prince. Yet even though he knew a princess wouldn’t marry an ordinary man, even though he knew his heart would be broken, he couldn’t help but fall in love with her, for she was not only beautiful, she was kind and loving. And brave. Loyal. Intelligent. And she made him laugh. So even though he was far too ordinary for a princess, he had to try to win her love, for he couldn’t give her up without a fight. He therefore offered her the only things he could-his heart. His devotion. His honor and respect. And all his love. And then he prayed that the moral of the story would be that even an ordinary man could win a princess with the riches of love.

My heart is yours, now and always,

Nathan

Victoria’s vision blurred and she blinked back the tears hovering on her lashes. Then she raised her gaze to her father, who regarded her with a questioning expression.

“Well?” he asked.

A half laugh, half sob burst from her. “Let’s get this carriage turned around.”

Nathan stood at the shore, staring at the white-capped waves that pounded relentlessly at the rocks and sand. The wind was picking up, warning of an approaching storm, and the somber gray sky perfectly matched his mood. Had she only left two hours ago? Had it only been one hundred and twenty short minutes since it felt as if his soul had been ripped out? Bloody hell. His heart felt… gone. As if the only thing holding up his head were his lungs-and they hurt.

He dragged his hands down his face. Damn it, he’d done the right thing for her by letting her go. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Nathan.”

He whipped around at the sound of her voice and stared, dumbfounded. She stood not ten feet away, clutching a piece of folded ivory vellum marked with his seal in red wax to her chest. But it was the look in her eyes that simultaneously stilled him and roared hope through him. A look filled with so much longing and love that he was afraid to blink lest he discover this was some sort of wishful dream.

Rooted to the spot, he watched her approach. When less than a foot separated them, she reached out and laid her hand against his cheek.

“There is absolutely nothing ordinary about you, Nathan,” she said in a shaky whisper. “You are extraordinary in every way. And I’ve known that since the first moment I set eyes on you three years ago.”

He turned his face and kissed her palm, then took her hand and clasped it between his. “Your father gave you my note.”

Still clutching the vellum, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You can thank him later.”

“I wanted you to have time to think-”

“I’ve had plenty of time. I’ve done nothing but think. I know what I want.”

“And what is that?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Very sure.”

“You,” she whispered, her gaze steady on his. “You.”

All the spaces inside him that less than a minute ago had seemed so desolate and empty, now filled to overflowing. Taking her hands from around his neck, he held them between his. “I once told you that I would only marry for love.”

“I remember.”

He dropped to one knee before her. “Marry me.”

Her chin quivered and her eyes flooded. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks and plopped onto their joined hands.

Nathan stood and frantically patted his waistcoat in search of his handkerchief. Finding the square of white linen, he dabbed at her wet cheeks. “Don’t cry. God, please don’t cry. I simply can’t stand it.” He swore softly and continued to dab as her tears fell unabated. Finally he gave up and simply brushed his thumbs over her wet cheeks.

“I’m not a rich man, but I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you’re always comfortable,” he vowed, hoping his words would comfort her. “We’ll spend part of our time in London-I’ll proudly escort you to the opera, even though I’m quite sure ‘opera’ is Latin for ‘death by unintelligible music’ I’ll attend whatever soirees you wish, then make love to you during the carriage ride home. And again once we arrive home. I don’t have much to give, but everything I have I offer to you. And I’ll love you every day for as long as I live.”

Victoria looked into his eyes and saw everything she’d never known she always wanted. Probably next week she’d come up with a brilliant reply to his lovely words, but for now all she could do was speak her heart. “I’ve come to realize that it doesn’t matter where I am, as long as I’m with you. And I’ve even grown fond of your menagerie. I already adore B.C. and Boots, and I’m certain Petunia and I can come to an understanding about what she can and cannot eat.” She blinked back a fresh wash of tears. “I love you, too. So very much. It would be my honor to be your wife.”

“Thank God,” he muttered, pulling her close. His lips captured hers in a long, deep, lush kiss that left her spinning.

When he finally lifted his head, she said in a breathless voice, “You know, I do come with a dowry.”

“Do you? I’d quite forgotten.”

And that, Victoria decided, was the loveliest gift a woman who’d always known she’d be married for her money could have received.