Chapter Fourteen
Leonard had never seen someone turn quite that shade of red, nor move nearly as fast as Mrs. Gillingham had when he spoke to that naive couple.
Did he do it on purpose?
Perhaps.
And he still wasn’t regretting his choice, as now, other than her initial scathing words, Mrs. Gillingham was sitting across from him in blessed silence. Something he was glad for, especially after his humiliating show in the park.
He was still picking that apart in his mind, trying to figure out what drove him to such a dramatic display.
Perhaps it was just years of pent-up words, finally needing to find release—the neighborhood of working-class people bringing out more of his frustration that he had wanted to be like them, yet never having the choice.
Especially when Mrs. Gillingham had implied he was a laze-about.
The frustrating part was he couldn’t disagree with her.
He was a lazy man. It was better than bending to his father’s will.
Yes, his father could guilt him into not taking a career, and he had.
It was too late for Leonard to do anything with his life.
Now he felt like he was only biding his time while his brother wasted away.
Goodness, his mind was full of lovely thoughts today.
Movement across the cab drew Leonard’s gaze. Mrs. Gillingham’s lips were still in a flat line across her face, pressed so tight that little lines puckered about them.
“I told you I would not lie.” Goodness, why was he goading her? Clearly now was not the time.
“You didn’t even have to lie. All that was required was that you remain mute.”
He scratched his neck as he looked out the window, the silence between them strangely unsettling.
“You are uncomfortable,” Mrs. Gillingham said, finally breaking the silence. “Is this because of what you told me about your family?”
He took a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have said any of that to you. I would think a man pathetic for unburdening himself on a lady as I did.” No wonder no woman in London had more than a three-sentence conversation with him. He was a miserable person to be around.
Able to make out her form in his periphery, he saw her bristle and turn toward him. “It was not pathetic. It was human.”
“No. It was uncalled for and ridiculous. I hardly even know you.”
More beats of silence.
“Perhaps that is why you felt comfortable telling me.”
Leonard rolled his head toward her. “That makes no sense.”
“It does, actually. You cannot be vulnerable with those closest to you, being proud as you are, so you chose to share with someone you never expect to see again.”
“Only if I’m lucky,” he said on a breath.
“Well, despite your irritable attitude toward me, I will say that I understand you better now. All except one thing, that is.”
He waited, his heart beating harder. What would she ask now? He supposed it was not required of him to answer, and yet, he often found himself doing just that when he was with her.
“What’s that?”
“Why your feelings about your family make you wish to not marry.”
“I explained that.”
“No,” she corrected. “You explained why you do not have an occupation, but never expounded on why your brother being ill has made you wish to remain alone.”
His eyes quickly glazed over her face, the true interest in hearing what he had to say showing in her gaze. Why did she make him desire to be so vulnerable?
The answer crept up from within, as if he’d always known it was there but wouldn’t allow it to have a voice.
Perhaps because no one else has ever tried.
He admired her sincere gaze for another moment, savoring it long enough to remember. Once he spoke about his pettiness, he was sure he would never see it again.
“I do not wish to marry because it’s what is expected of me.”
“Is it not what’s expected of everyone?” Her words were gentle—soft. Even after he had humiliated her in front of that couple.
“Perhaps. I suppose it was just one more thing expected of me because Samuel cannot, therefore I must.”
The carriage jerked to a halt, causing Leonard to stop his musing. Good thing, since he would likely spill his entire heart out to this woman and truly look a fool.
“I will go inside. If you must contact me again, try and wait until a decent hour.”
“Wait.”
But he was already leaving the cab. The door to his home was ahead, its peaceful quiet and safety from these conversations beckoning him forth.
After he opened the door, he swung around to shut it.
There. Alone at last.
He turned, breathing out a sigh of relief, until he looked up and saw Mrs. Gillingham standing in his hall.
“How did you slip in?” he asked, his eyes wide.
“I have certain skills. Now. I am not letting you get away so easily.”
“No. Because nothing is ever easy with you, is it?” He strode into the drawing room, making his way to the cabinet on the far wall and pouring himself a glass of brandy.
“And you judged me for drinking at three in the afternoon.” Mrs. Gillingham crossed her arms, watching him.
He sucked the brandy down, closing his eyes as it burned down his throat. “Please leave.”
“I feel as if you need to talk.”
He shook his head, smacking his glass onto the cabinet. “I really don’t.”
“And that is why you are drinking before eleven in the morning.”
His eyes swung toward her, and he forced himself to unclench his jaw. “Why do you even care if I marry? It is none of your concern.”
“Perhaps I find it a sad circumstance.”
He thought about her being a widow, and part of his ire faded.
“You said you don’t wish to marry because it is expected of you and your brother cannot accomplish the task. Surely that must put some guilt on your brother as well.”
“My brother is the reason I do what I do without much fuss. It is him I work to please, not my father.”
“But you will not marry . . .”
“If I marry and provide the son my father desires, then he wins.”
She scoffed. “It is hardly a game. Your brother is unwell, and your family line will not continue without you.”
“And why has this task been bestowed to me?” He turned toward her, walking up to a chair and holding onto the back of it.
“It is a rather ugly lot in life if you ask me. And I am not obligated to do anything. I will—” He stopped to rub his neck and gather his thoughts.
“I will do what I must. Help at the estate when Samuel’s health will not allow it.
I will even take on the estate myself when he .
. . passes. But under no circumstance am I required to marry and have children.
It wouldn’t be fair for me to do so when the young lady does not deserve such treatment. ”
“All of this because you cannot stand your father? Because you believe she will be treated as a means to an end?”
“Yes.”
“And no other reason at all.”
He hesitated, cursing himself inwardly for it. “No other reason.”
“I think you are lying, Leonard.” Honora took a step closer, and he took a step back, his eyes desperately looking for an escape.
“What would I be lying about?”
“The reason for not marrying and having children.”
“And why would I lie?”
She tilted her head. “I don’t know.”
“Therefore you have no reason to say such outlandish things.”
“I can read people like a book. And while I do not know why you are scared, I do know that you are. It is only a matter of time before I figure it out. Do you care to save me the trouble?”
He jutted his chin. “What do you think?”
Pursing her lips, she paused. “I think you are a very stubborn man.”
“Thank you for the compliment.”
She stepped away from him, the space welcome and allowing him to breathe again.
“Be careful, Mr. Stanton. Bitterness is a disease of its own. If you allow it to, it will take over everything.” She lifted a hand to her neck, toying with her necklace. “Ask me how I know?”
He thought back on their time together—her sunny disposition and annoyingly positive attitude. “You do not seem bitter.”
Her head jerked back a fraction, as if his question were obtuse. “I choose not to be.”
“No, you choose to play the victim and continue on in your father’s footsteps.”
“Me, the victim?” Her eyes widened. “Perhaps I should hold up a mirror for you.”
This was why he shouldn’t open up to people. They didn’t understand. And he couldn’t blame them. It was hard to walk in another’s shoes.
“I think you should leave,” he said, hands propped on his hips.
After a moment of hesitation, she gave a single nod. “Very well. Tomorrow?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you said you would help me,” she said, clenching a fist.
“Where would we even start?” He threw a hand out while the other wiped across his brow. “That Pratt fellow lied, and now you have to start all over. I’m beginning to think I should just cut my losses, pull my money, and be done with this whole ugly affair.”
Her eyes rose to his, and he was struck by just how lovely she really was. Yes, she drove him to insanity, but something about this woman kept him coming back against his better judgment. If only he could figure out what it was so he could cure himself of the need to constantly come back to her.
“One more night. Just give me one more night and then you can make your decision.”
He opened his mouth to answer, then tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. “If I do this, you will give me the money? I can be done?”
At first, she hesitated. But then she nodded. “Yes. One more task, two nights from now, and I shall release you from my employ. I will be safe and done with my life of thievery.”
One more night. Surely he could handle one more night. How bad could it really be?