Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
D ear Lord P,
I applaud your victory. Yet not all obstacles are easily beaten, and some may rise again, stronger, hardier and poised for victory. If you deign to describe your hindrances to me, I shall aid you in devising further strategies. In my career, I have fought and claimed victory against many foes, and look forward to more. Now I fight a battle with a greater opponent than ever before. Yet the prize is worth the battle.
I will be victorious.
Yours,
Edmund
P.S. We have conversed for over a year, and yet we have kept an unnecessary formality. Please address me as Edmund, as my good friends do.
“Is everything all right?” her mother asked in a hopeful voice.
“Of course,” Bradenton answered smoothly, with no sign he’d just been ravishing her daughter. “Lady Priscilla and I were debating a point, which she conceded to me.”
She clenched her fists. “His Grace is unfortunately mistaken.”
He raised an eyebrow.
She glared at him.
Her mother gave a nervous laugh. “I’m sure there’s room for compromise. Do you want to share so we can give our opinion?”
Sure, Mother.
I claimed Bradenton didn’t affect me.
To prove it, I kissed him.
The world exploded.
On second thought, I may have lost.
Kissing Bradenton seemed like a good idea at the time. Infuriatingly, it still felt like a good idea. But there would be no more of that. She moved towards her mother, away from Bradenton and his knowing expression. “It’s nothing of any importance. The subject is closed. Permanently.”
“Then you should go on your ride. I’m sure Aunt Louisa is excited.”
Aunt Louisa wore the same scowl she always did and didn’t respond. Her hearing had been failing for years, making her the perfect chaperone when one planned to loudly discourage a suitor.
Bradenton gestured her forward. Under her mother’s watchful eye, she could do nothing but join him. He towered next to her, a paragon of power and strength. He leaned down and whispered so only she could hear, “Just so we’re clear…”
“I won.”
“Lady Louisa, are you enjoying the ride?”
Aunt Louisa stared outside the carriage, scowling at people as they passed. She did not answer Bradenton’s question.
It was a beautiful, sun-splashed day, and the eloquently dressed members of the ton were out enjoying rides in well-appointed carriages. Murmured conversations drifted through the air, set to the tinkling of polite laughter and children playing in the background. Freshly blooming flowers burst from gardens, their scents carried on a gentle breeze.
“She can’t hear,” Priscilla stated the obvious, even though Bradenton likely already guessed. “We have to write to communicate with her. So for instance, if I say a certain duke is overbearing and dictatorial, she would have no idea.”
“I see.” He expertly guided the horses. “And if I were to say a certain lady is beautiful and fascinating, she would not hear me.”
Do not blush.
Do not blush.
Stop blushing!
She fought to remain emotionless. “I’m sure she’s heard enough insincere sentiments to judge false flattery.”
“It’s the truth.” His tone was genuine now, as he paused to look at her. “I’ll admit many suitors wax poetic, but I am not one of them. I do not lie, and I do not exaggerate.”
Priscilla swallowed. The close friend she knew from her letters did not tell untruths. He simply had no need.
People respected him no matter what he said.
Suddenly the atmosphere became far too dangerous. At least the kiss remained thankfully unmentioned. “Tell me about your work with social causes,” she blurted. She grimaced. She had only meant to change the subject, not sound so eager.
“Are you truly interested?”
“All good members of society should be,” she said carefully.
He studied her for a moment. “Much of it happens with the dukedom. It is vital to be present for my tenants, as well as everyone ruled by Parliament. I ensure the welfare of those under my care.”
Priscilla nodded. A lady waved at Bradenton from a nearby carriage, then another and another. Not that it mattered. She barely remembered the twenty-two women who had waved so far.
Bradenton nodded back, but did not stop. “Beyond my personal responsibilities, I fight for those without a voice. Right now we are focusing on improving working conditions in the factories. We just had some success.”
Despite her resistance, warmth spread through her. “That’s wonderful. You must be very pleased.”
His expression remained neutral, yet emotion lurked beneath it. “It’s difficult to celebrate when so much remains to be done. I had hoped to achieve more by now. You should see the conditions, the children–” Just as his voice rose, he stopped. “Forgive me. This is not an appropriate subject for a gently bred lady.”
“Of course it is.” Guided solely by instinct, she placed a hand on his arm. She withdrew it quickly when he gave her a sharp look. “Cruelty flourishes with ignorance, and those who turn away do nothing to change it. Women and children are just as much victims of poor treatment as fully grown men. All people, no matter their station or gender, should be aware of society’s ills.”
He looked at her intently. She had surprised him, more than she intended, yet she couldn’t stay silent on the cause that usurped her heart. She simply couldn’t pretend it didn’t matter. Not after all the hard work she – they – had done. Still, she must be cautious. If she kept slipping, he could connect her to his mysterious colleague.
Perhaps a new subject would be safer. “What do you do when not meeting your responsibilities or championing your causes?”
He relaxed ever-so-slightly. “I attempt to sleep occasionally.”
She smiled. “You must have something you do for leisure.”
When he didn’t respond, her smile faded. Did the man truly do nothing but work for others? “What you do is important,” she said softly. “But you should also make time for yourself.”
Discomfort tinted his expression. “I attend balls, shows and other entertainment in the course of my duties. I am also a sportsman.”
“That’s obvious.”
Well, just brilliant.
The scoundrel didn’t even attempt to hide his bemusement.
Maybe she could make it better. “I mean I may have heard that you…” Her ability to speak appeared to have disappeared. “That you liked physical activity.” Wrong direction! “Like sports, I mean, of course, obviously.”
Mirth danced in his eyes. Thankfully, he did not comment on the fact that she had clearly lost her mind. “What about you? Do you have any hobbies beyond resting, sewing and getting helplessly lost under furniture?”
Rambling and making inappropriate comments. “I like to share my opinions.”
“Excellent, because I have another question. Do you have a disdain for clever men?”
To the contrary, they were far too tempting. “I don’t know what you mean, and if I did, I would say you are very impertinent.”
“We’ve already established that.” He made a graceful turn with the horses. “I am speaking of your suitors, the men you danced with at the Roxbury ball. They seemed unlikely choices for a lady of your position.”
He had been watching her. Unease and frustration mixed with excitement and satisfaction, a tangle of conflicting emotions, amidst a major problem: how would she investigate if he was watching her?
“I am perplexed as to why you would watch me.”
“Are you truly?” he said softly.
She felt herself color. Perhaps if she made it clear she would soon be engaged, he would retreat. “There is nothing unusual about the men I am considering. I imagine I will soon accept an offer.”
Challenge lit his eyes. If she’d meant to scare him, her words seemed to have had the opposite effect.
“Tell me about your suitors.”
“It would be inappropriate.”
“Nonsense. I know most of the lords in the ton. Perhaps I can aid you in your endeavor.”
She eyed him suspiciously. Far more lurked behind Bradenton’s actions than he admitted. Still, if she did not answer his question, he might conduct his own investigation. “I have a list of suitable men.”
He cocked his head to the side. “A list like one would make when heading to the fabric shop?”
She fought to keep a straight face. “Exactly.”
“And who is on that list?”
“Many eligible men.”
“Such as?”
She sighed. “The Earl of Castleberry, the Duke of Dewey and the Earl of Ridgeland.”
“How fascinating. You are aware the Earl of Castleberry spends most of his time with rocks.”
Exactly why she liked him. “I find his scientific interest interesting.”
“He makes little beds for them.”
“How kind.”
“And gives them names.”
“Sounds adorable.”
“He talks to them.”
And we have another entrant to the “I’m not that desperate” list.
“The Duke of Dewey has a similar fascination with plants.”
“That’s different,” she protested. “Plants are alive. Many people enjoy botany.”
Bradenton raised an eyebrow. “He also talks to them.”
Priscilla shrugged. “I’ve heard it can promote growth.”
“Did he tell you they talked back?”
Well, great. “Now I know you’re telling tales.”
“As we’ve established, I do not lie,” he said solemnly. “Dewey told me himself. But don’t worry. I’m sure the plants have said only nice things about you.”
She looked down so he wouldn’t see her smile. “What about Lord Ridgeland? Not a plant or rock in sight.”
“Perhaps not,” he conceded. “But he prefers his ladies with four legs.”
She parted her lips.
“You must know the man spends all day with his horses. He gives them each a name, first, middle and last, and coddles them more than a mama with a newborn baby. If you were with him, you’d be lucky if he spent any time wi–”
He stopped.
Looked at her.
Narrowed his eyes.
“You’d be lucky if he spent any time with you,” he murmured. “But that’s what you want, isn’t it? I thought you muttered ‘busy’ under your breath when I asked about your requirements for a suitor. It makes perfect sense. You want to find someone who is so busy, he won’t notice you living life exactly as you please.”
That’s right. Precisely. Give the man a prize!
“That’s preposterous. I have many requirements for a lord, most of which were stipulated by my parents. He must have a title, sufficient funds and–”
“A preoccupation,” he finished.
She folded her arms across her chest.
“Do not worry,” he rumbled. “I understand.”
She looked at him sharply. Had he deciphered more than her motives? “Understand what, Your Grace?”
“I understand why a woman of your intellect wouldn’t want a man interfering in her life. Why you would want someone so busy he would allow you to do as you please.”
Anger flashed through her, not truly at Bradenton, but at the unfairness he highlighted. “You can’t understand! Everyone listens when you talk. No one doubts your ability to care for yourself or thinks you can’t grasp the simplest of tasks. No one chaperones you, telling you what you can and cannot do. When I marry, I will become someone else’s property. It’s all I can ever be, even if I wanted to change the world!”
His gaze didn’t waver, even as her voice rose until others looked over. Yet his neutral mask was gone, replaced by understanding, compassion. “Do you wish to change the world, Lady Priscilla?” he asked softly.
She caught her breath. He couldn’t know she already did. “I was using it as an example. No matter what a lady is capable of, she will always be considered property of a man.”
“I cannot truly understand the obstacles of the fairer gender, but I can comprehend your desire for freedom.” His voice was low, serious. “I wish females enjoyed more of it.”
“Do you really?” She studied him. “What about your wards? As their guardian, do you allow them free rein?”
He shrugged. “My sisters and cousins enjoy a great deal of freedom. They choose their endeavors, activities and even suitors.”
“Truly? So if your sister decided to travel the world, you would let her go? What if your cousin fell in love with a no-good scoundrel? Would you pay for a wedding breakfast and send her on her way?”
His jaw tightened. “I have a responsibility to them.”
“Exactly.” She gestured with her hands. “You would tell your sister she is staying in England, and order your cousin to find another suitor.”
He didn’t deny it. “It is my responsibility to keep them safe.”
“But shouldn’t that be for them to decide? Shouldn’t they be able to live their lives as they choose?”
He leaned back and regarded her. At the very least, he was considering her argument. It was more than most lords would do.
“I must walk a difficult balance. I would give those under my care freedom, as I wish for everyone. Yet I am also aware of the dangers of the world, especially for ladies. I give them all the freedom I can, while still protecting them.”
“‘Protect’ is just another word for control.”
“For me, it is not.” He looked at her earnestly. “I take my duties seriously, ensuring my wards are not only healthy but happy as well. Freedom is part of that.”
“And what of the lady you choose as your bride?” She was treading into dangerous territory, yet she couldn’t stop herself. “Will you restrict her activities?”
“Only when they threaten her well-being. If that makes me controlling, then so be it. It would be far worse if I failed to prevent something dangerous, and she came to harm. In most ways, my wife will be able to live life as she chooses. Marriage doesn’t have to be a prison sentence.” He paused. “I will admit to something. I will not allow my bride to pretend she is not in the marriage. I wish for an actual union.”
Something moved inside her, a longing for what could never be hers. She pushed it aside. Despite Bradenton’s “goodness” he’d confirmed his protective and possessive nature. With him, she would never be free.
“Such unions are good for men, perhaps, but not so much for ladies.”
He shook his head. “I disagree. While you may have to compromise in a true marriage, consider life with your current suitors. What would it be like?”
There would be vases. Many, many vases.
The only question would be whether to pay for them in installments or one lump sum.
“It would be fine. The men were very… interesting.”
“Interesting? Were you actually awake?”
She fought the smile. “Of course.”
“I imagine you learned a great deal about horses, plants and rocks.”
“Can one truly know too much about rocks?”
“I believe one can.”
“I imagine you were hoping for something to make them stop.”
“I was considering the location of the nearest vase.”
She clamped her mouth shut. She had not meant to admit that.
Bemusement lit his eyes. “I suppose I should be grateful there are no vases in the vicinity.”
She simply couldn’t help it. She smiled.
“And now I understand why vases were the subject of your sewing. Tell me, do you actually like to sew?”
Her amusement fled at the stark reminder of her subterfuge. He must never learn her guild had nothing to do with sewing and everything to do with social reform. “I enjoy it as much as the average lady.”
He inclined his head at the vague response. “You do not like to talk about yourself, Lady Priscilla. While others may not notice, I do.”
Yes, he did. He noticed everything. Perhaps she could share something so he wouldn’t search for everything. “I am a typical lady. I enjoy most subjects ladies do.”
“You keep a busy social calendar.”
“I am not one to sleep all day in preparation for the night’s events. I attend gardens, festivals and so forth.”
“Do you like museums? There’s an interesting new exhibit on display at the British Museum.”
She relaxed at the change of subject. “I saw it. It was quite fascinating.”
He nodded to another waving passerby, then turned back to her. “I agree. What was your favorite part?”
“I enjoyed the statues and the paintings, but the miniatures were my favorite. I know you thought they were childish, but they had a unique quality to them.”
He narrowed his eyes. Stared.
Her breath hitched. What had she said?
Something she shouldn’t have known.
“How did you know I thought they were childish?”
She forced her voice to stay light. “You said so, didn’t you? At the dance?”
“We haven’t discussed the exhibit before now.”
“I thought you mentioned it. Perhaps you simply look like the sort of man who would think miniatures silly.”
He continued to stare.
This was why contact outside their letters was dangerous! She had to distract him, but how? In that moment, she thought of only a single subject powerful enough. “I’m sorry about the kiss!”
His eyes widened in surprise, a rarity for the stoic man. She blanched as he glanced around. Had she been too loud? If anyone heard…
Thankfully, no one was within range. “Lady Priscilla, you do realize the consequences of your actions?”
All too well. “I’m sorry.” She lowered her voice. “I just wanted to apologize. The kiss was simply my clumsy way of making a point. I do not normally behave in such a manner.” Heat crept up her neck.
His expression softened. “Do not worry, my dear. I hold you in the highest esteem. I am rapidly seeing the true Lady Priscilla.”
That was exactly what she feared.
“What point were you trying to make?”
She straightened. “That we are not suited. That the connection you speak of is mere fiction.”
“I would challenge you lost that battle.” His voice deepened. “However, if you are unsure, we could test it again.”
Yes!
Splendid idea!
Please, please, please!
“Your Grace, none of that!” Her disgruntlement was badly feigned and unlikely to fool him. “The subject is now closed. Permanently.”
The spark in his eyes challenged every word.
Yet he was a gentleman and allowed her to change the subject. They conversed without further incident, touching upon a variety of matters, large and small. In his letters, Bradenton was an excellent conversationalist, spinning fascinating tales into enjoyable banter, and in real life he was even better. She simply couldn’t resist his clever wit and enigmatic charm.
She was not the only one who noticed. Nearly every eligible lady and their mama greeted him with enthusiastic waves and bright smiles. It bothered her more than she would ever admit, yet even more concerning was how Bradenton acted with the lords who greeted her. His response was an authoritative stare, yet it conveyed the message of a thousand words. The lords quickly went past, yet even his silent sabotage couldn’t upset her. She thought nothing could.
Until something did.
It happened so quickly. One moment they were in the middle of a lively discussion on foreign affairs, and in the next she saw a nightmare. The confrontation was extraordinary for the difference of the combatants. The aggressor: a large burly shopkeeper, tall, thick and angry. His target: a little boy, scrawny and dirty, no older than six.
Immediately, the situation became clear. The little boy clutched a piece of bread with one tiny bite taken out. The shopkeeper, his face bright red with fury, was yelling and shaking the child. The boy screamed in fear, yet people ignored him as they walked by, unconcerned, apathetic, as if they didn’t even see the assault.
He could murder the child in broad daylight, and no one would even notice.
“Stop the carriage!” She tried to stand, but an iron hand stopped her.
Bradenton had yet to see the fight. “What are you doing, Priscilla?” He held her tightly. “You can’t stand while the carriage is moving!”
“I have to get out!” The boy was struggling, but the shopkeeper held him in a firm grip, shaking him like a rag doll. “I have to stop it!”
“Stop what?” he demanded, even as he pulled back on the reins. “Calm down. What’s wrong?”
“I need to save the boy! Let me out!”
“Wait just a minute. I’ll bring the carriage around.”
“There isn’t time!” The shopkeeper was too large, too rough. If he kept shaking the boy, he would inadvertently – or purposely – do irreparable damage. She had to stop it now.
When another carriage moved close to them, Edmund released her to get a better grip on the reins. It was her chance. As the carriage slowed, she stood, opened the door…
And jumped.