Chapter 19
CAPTAIN JOHN CALDER
As luck would have it, the day after I discovered I’d forcefully kissed an unwilling woman, I found myself sitting next to her in church.
For once it wasn’t her fault we sat together. Miss Blackwell had tried to make Harriet shift closer to her so I could take the seat beside Harriet, but Harriet had misunderstood and shifted closer to Brookhouse.
Listening to a sermon while sitting between the woman I planned to marry and the woman I’d kissed only two weeks ago was a lesson in humility I would not soon forget.
Lack of sleep did not help the situation.
I’d spent most of the night tearing my linens off and on in turns, stuck somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, between Blackwell and the shepherd’s croft, between shamefulness and heady fascination, and always, a woman with gray eyes and dark hair falling in cascades down her back watched over me.
Several times I’d almost drifted off to sleep only to remember something else, like the grit in her gaze when she hefted Scout’s saddle onto his back because even though I’d already left her, she hadn’t been ready to relinquish her care over me.
And that had been after I’d kissed her.
And her scent.
Citrus had haunted me all through the night.
And now I was close enough to Miss Blackwell to be haunted by it through the opening, grand confessional, liturgy and second service. By the time the vicar stood to start his sermon, I was ready to put my handkerchief to my nose and walk out.
“Who are we, truly?” the vicar asked, his voice resonating through the congregation. “Are we the men we are here, in the light, before our neighbors? Or are we the men we are in the dark, when no one is watching but God?”
A strangled cough that sounded suspiciously like a truncated and swallowed snort of laughter escaped Miss Blackwell's mouth. I clenched my fists together. This was going to be a very long sermon.
“Gentlemen,” the vicar continued, unaware of the joy and mortification his words were causing in the seventh pew, “I put it to you—those two men ought to be the same.”
The next half hour passed in agony. Mrs. Wickerton would no doubt be plying Miss Blackwell with tea and honey to aid her newfound and persistent cough.
At one point, the vicar leaned forward, looking us all in the eye, and warned, “Be wary of temptation when you are weak, for that is often when our baser nature rears its head.” This earned me a cough and an elbow in my ribs.
I left the church the moment the sermon was over. I was certainly weak and knew better than to tempt my baser nature with any sort of a sparring match with Miss Blackwell after the night and morning I’d had.
Carriages from Blackwell and other nearby estates lined up outside, but I didn’t dare enter one until I knew which carriage Miss Blackwell planned on taking. I paced at the base of the church steps waiting for the rest of the party to join me.
Harriet was one of the first to exit the church. She dashed down the stairs with a smile on her face. I couldn’t hold her gaze, but I put my arm out. “Would you like me to escort you to a carriage?”
Harriet pursed her lips together in thought. “It is a lovely day, and Blackwell is only a few miles from here. I was actually considering walking. Would you care to join me?”
My shoulders straightened. Walking had always been our pastime, and I needed to be in Harriet’s company. I needed that smile of hers to chase away visions of storm-cloud eyes.
“I would be honored.” I put my arm out again.
Both of her dimples blossomed on her cheeks. “Wonderful,” she said and pulled me away from the carriages and to an ancient oak tree at the side of the church. She dropped my arm and started back. “I’ll go gather the others.”
My shoulders dropped as she strode away from me with a bounce in her step. Of course I knew we wouldn’t be walking home alone together, especially not after the vicar’s sermon. But it was still disappointing to have her on my arm and then off it again so quickly.
The first person she gathered for our walk was Miss Blackwell. She approached her at the base of the stairs and Miss Blackwell’s face lit up with the invitation, but when Harriet motioned toward the oak tree and me underneath it, Miss Blackwell’s smile faltered.
Harriet pushed her cousin in my direction and then left to find more victims to join our party. Miss Blackwell’s steps were slow but she didn’t have far to go, so she reached me sooner than either of us would have preferred.
“It was an interesting topic today,” she said. “Timely.”
I stifled a groan, because of course she couldn’t let the irony of our situation pass without harassing me. “A few weeks ago might have been even more timely,” I said gruffly.
Miss Blackwell’s face transformed with surprised delight and a laugh burst from her throat. She once again resorted to trying to cover it with a cough.
She shook her head, making a concerted effort to return her face to the calm control she’d had when walking in my direction. “Think of all the trouble we could have saved ourselves.”
Had that kiss troubled her? Angered, that I could believe, but troubled? Her hair was perfectly coiffed this morning and nothing about her person seemed to imply she hadn’t slept well after our conversation.
Harriet returned a moment later on Brookhouse’s arm. “Let’s go,” she said with a grin and started down the lane.
Leaving Miss Blackwell and me to follow behind the two of them.
Neither of us moved for a moment. We simply watched the two of them stride forward, speaking one on top of the other as they went.
In unison, Miss Blackwell and I turned our heads and faced each other. Sounds of churchgoers mingled about us, but they faded into all the other noises of nature surrounding us.
“I had nothing to do with this,” Miss Blackwell finally said, her hands in the air, palms facing me. “Not this time.”
I grimaced. Sadly, I believed her.
“Would you rather take the carriage?” I asked.
“Not on a day as lovely as this. Would you?”
I sighed, because the correct answer to that question was yes, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
I may not be able to walk home with Harriet, but I wasn’t going to leave her to walk home with Brookhouse alone, either.
I shook my head and put my arm out for Miss Blackwell.
“Don’t you remember?” I asked, mentally trying not to wince at the particular poignancy of that phrase between us. “I get terribly ill in carriages.”
Another smile blossomed on Miss Blackwell’s face and my lungs expanded with a sense of achievement. She took my arm with a wink and a grin. “That’s right. You do.”
We started off well. I only received a few barbs disguised as thoughtful discussion of the sermon, but the longer we followed Brookhouse and Harriet, the quieter we both became.
Nothing about this house party had gone to plan, and now that Miss Blackwell was no longer an antagonistic force, I was left with a sense of loss and no one to blame for it.
Harriet’s bright and joyful laugh bubbled up around us more often than our own words did. It was hard to believe the woman in front of me was the same one who’d faithfully waited for me for over six years.
She was so changed from the woman I remembered. This version of Harriet laughed more often. At Eastmoor she’d spent most of her time with me, while she spent time here with everyone but me. Had she changed or had I? And if both of us were so changed, where did that leave us?
It was a question that, had I asked it two weeks ago, would have made me feel misplaced and forgotten.
After a night of thinking far too much about another woman, that question gave me a spark of relief.
Not because I felt my future would be better without Harriet—that was impossible.
But at least in the smallest way, I would be less of a scoundrel for not only kissing Miss Blackwell, but for being completely preoccupied by her ever since.
Miss Blackwell’s boot scraped against a rock at our feet and I pinned her hand to my side to steady her.
“Thank you,” she said with complete civility.
My nearness had no effect on her. Which was good.
Excellent. I wasn’t a fool who would chase after a woman who had no regard for me.
I had kissed her when she had no regard for me, but that was a different matter.
I’d been weak and subject to my baser nature at the time.
I snuck a glance in her direction. A few strands of her dark hair tumbled down from underneath her bonnet.
I whipped my head forward, making the stupidest sound of frustration in my throat.
From the corner of my eye I caught the sight of Miss Blackwell’s bonnet turning in my direction. She gave me a short squeeze on my arm. “Don’t despair, Captain. There are nearly two weeks remaining in this house party.”
“I’m not certain anything will change in those weeks. I thought she’d asked me to walk home with her.”
She grimaced. “The truth is, that may be partially my fault.”
I slowed my steps and turned to her. “What do you mean?”
“Not long after we all arrived, I told Harriet she needed to give every man here a fair chance, and since she already knew you, I asked her to wait until she knew the others better before spending time with you.”
I pulled her to a stop. “You are the reason she hasn’t tried to speak to me?”
She lowered her head. “I’m afraid so.” She slid her hand down my arm and gripped my hand in hers. Her touch sent a most unfortunate current of sensation zinging from my wrist to my shoulder. “The first chance I get, I’ll remedy that. I’ll tell her to stop avoiding you.”
I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. None of the information I’d gathered about Harriet was untainted by Miss Blackwell’s meddling. Harriet might feel as strongly for me as she had the day she left her glove at our meeting spot. I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“I’m terribly sorry. I shouldn't have interfered.” She kept touching me, a hand on my wrist, then my elbow. I stepped away from her and her hands dropped.
I’d thought for a moment my future was uncertain, but now I didn’t know if it was uncertain or not. I needed to know one way or another so I could start filling my thoughts with Harriet and our future again or stop feeling like an unfaithful cad.
Either option was better than not knowing.
Another burst of laughter came from in front of us, and like the miserable, base man I’d become, I cursed at the sound of it.
Miss Blackwell tugged me forward. “We can catch up to them now. And don’t worry about all of her laughter. You know how Harriet is.”
I wasn’t certain I did. “How is she?”
“She always gravitates to joy. It is one of her best qualities”
It was? I blinked. I’d been a miserable creature during our summer together, and she’d gravitated to me. Was Miss Blackwell wrong or was I? I glanced ahead of us again. Brookhouse was bending at the waist, bowing to her for some reason.
“You think Brookhouse is more joyful than I am.” It was a statement. But in my heart I wanted Miss Blackwell to treat it as a question.
She didn’t. She glanced ahead to where Brookhouse’s bow had turned into a tip of his hat.
When she turned those gray eyes back on me, she had one solitary eyebrow raised.
“You are many good things, Captain Calder—strong, forceful, kind. But people don’t turn to you when they want to laugh. No one would dare.”
I pulled back my shoulders and slowed my steps to increase the distance between us.
Miss Blackwell didn’t notice my reaction.
She ran ahead a few paces and turned around, the wind catching her skirts and blowing them and the tendrils of her hair in my direction.
She was so stunning at that moment. So unscathed by our history.
“What do people turn to me for, then?” I asked, my tone harsher than it should have been.
Miss Blackwell scoffed. Her intense gaze caught and held mine. With a shake of her head that seemed to imply I should know her answer, she simply stated, “Everything else.”
My world narrowed to the woman in front of me and the space between us.
How was she still surprising me at every turn?
I should have taken the carriage. I should leave now and never spend another moment in Miss Blackwell’s company.
I should definitely stop myself from ever again wondering what her lips might have felt like on mine.
There were so many things I should and shouldn’t do where Miss Blackwell was concerned, and for once in my life I doubted my strength of character.
I would continue to fight against the strange power she held over me.
But I knew what a losing battle felt like, and this was it.
I couldn’t surrender, not when I was obligated to Harriet.
And I couldn’t retreat, not with this magnetic pull between us.
That left concealment as my only option. I might not be able to keep my unruly reactions and thoughts about Miss Blackwell at bay, but I could at least try to make her life and everyone else’s easier by never revealing them.
No one needed to know what kind of scoundrel I’d become.
The vicar’s sermon was timely indeed.