Chapter 12 #2
Tamsin nodded. “I understand, and to tell you the truth, at one point I might have taken your offer. But in these past few weeks, my eyes have been opened. I sneaked into the Belgrave ball. I walked away from the abuse at Brown’s Coffee Shop. I dressed as a tiger and played the part well.”
Kildare looked like he was about to object, so she hurried on.
“I used to stand on the street at night and look into windows and wish someone would come and save me and my family.” She’d made that wish upon a star several times when she’d watched his family gather in Hanover Square.
She dreamed of a family like his. Now she knew some dreams weren’t meant to be.
“But I realized that I don’t need to be saved. I can save myself and my family.”
He nodded. “You can. I’ve never doubted that for a moment, but I want to help you.”
She shook her head then leaned close and put a hand on his cheek. “I love you, Garret Kildare. You have no idea how long I have loved you. You’re a good man, and I won’t let you ruin yourself or me by making me your whore.”
“Archer—”
“We should say goodbye now.” She kissed his cheek. “I hope you find your heiress.”
He caught her arms and looked at her long and hard.
Tamsin loved the feel of his velvet-brown eyes on her, but she refused to give in to her urge to take all her words back and collapse in his arms. “I hope you find your sister and brother,” he said.
“You know I want nothing but the best for you. You know where to find me if you need me?”
“I do,” she said, stepping back from him.
“But I won’t.” Head held high, she forced herself to turn her back on him.
Still carrying the basket of food he’d given her, she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.
Tears made the street before her blurry, but she pushed on, moving through the crowds until she hoped he couldn’t see her anymore.
He pulled at her, like an invisible rope connected the two of them, but she let it stretch and didn’t turn back to look for him.
Finally, as she gasped and groaned and struggled, that rope broke, and she was free.
· · ·
The orchestra was excellent. Garret was no authority on music, but he’d attended enough balls to recognize when the musicians were talented.
“I could almost dance to this,” Liam said from beside him.
Garret glanced at his brother, who never danced unless forced either by custom or a determined hostess. “I’m sure any number of young ladies would swoon if you asked for the next dance.”
“I said almost, Garret. Besides, I’m only interested in an heiress, and Lady Callista is the sole heiress here tonight thus far. I’d rather not risk stepping on her foot and enduring a lecture.”
“She’s not that bad.”
Liam gave him a look, and the two men descended into silence again as the music swelled around him.
Garret hadn’t yet called on Lady Callista for the ride he’d promised in Hyde Park, so he really should go ask her to dance.
Better yet, he should ask her to take a stroll with him in the garden.
He could speak to her there, put her at ease, get to know her a little.
And yet, he’d been standing here for the last half hour.
He hadn’t moved even an inch toward Lady Callista, who was standing with a small circle of other ladies, gesturing wildly in what appeared to be an illustration of a trot or a canter.
“What the devil is Daire about?” Liam asked. Garret followed his brother’s gaze across the ballroom to where Daire seemed to hold court, surrounded by five or six wealthy gentlemen. “I thought we were looking for heiresses, but Daire has something else in mind.”
“Daire is constantly three steps ahead of the rest of us. Maybe one of those men has a daughter with an enormous dowry. Woo the father and win the daughter?” Garret suggested.
Liam made a sound that indicated anything was possible with Daire.
“Whatever he’s about, at least he’s still here. Killian left an hour ago with Mrs. Rinquist.”
“I wondered where he’d gone. Who is Mrs. Rinquist? Wait—don’t tell me. A widow just out of mourning.”
“Who else?”
Liam blew out a breath. “Looks like I’m the only one who can save this family.”
Liam’s annoying self-importance was the impetus Garret needed to propel himself around the room until he stood directly before Lady Callista. He bowed. “Lady Callista.”
She eyed him up and down. “Who are you again?”
He gave her a tight smile. “Someone who should have taken you driving.”
“Ah yes.” She opened her fan and waved it. “I vaguely remember you. You came to grovel in my drawing room the other day. At this rate, I expect to become quite familiar with your groveling.”
“I strive every day to live up to your standards, my lady. Would you do me the honor of granting me the next dance?”
“No.”
Garret blinked, unused to such bluntness from ladies of the ton. “I understand—”
“No, you do not. I’d rather walk in the garden. It’s too hot and stuffy in this ballroom. Lady Withstead always invites too many guests.” She put her hand on his arm. “Proceed, Mr. Kildare.”
“Yes, my lady.” He escorted her across the room and down the stairs. A trail of Chinese lanterns lit a path of light to the garden, which sparkled with colors from the paper lanterns strewn about. Lady Callista took a breath.
“This is much better.”
“Yes,” he agreed. If he could have walked to the Blue Boar to see his friends right now, he would have done so in an instant.
But he owed his family a sincere effort to woo an heiress, and though Lady Callista seemed annoyed with him, she would not have asked him to escort her outside if she hadn’t liked him at least a little.
In fact, most ladies would never have gone unescorted to the garden with a man.
Young ladies worried for their reputations.
So either Lady Callista trusted him or—more likely—she assumed she could defend herself if he made any advances she disliked.
If he were pitted against her, he gave her good odds. She was formidable.
But perhaps she’d wanted him to take her to the garden so he would make advances.
He gave her a sideways glance as they wandered past a gazebo artfully lit with lanterns and candles.
Garret couldn’t imagine kissing Lady Callista.
He couldn’t imagine holding her or cupping her bottom or laying her down on a bed.
But then, he couldn’t seem to stop imagining doing all of that and more to Tamsin Archer.
Why couldn’t he forget about her? She’d made it quite clear she didn’t want him.
He didn’t blame her. He had been pursuing her while at the same time shopping for a wife.
Even if he saw the efficiency of the plan at the time, in hindsight, it was rather callous.
She was right to be hurt, and he hated that he’d been the one to hurt her.
If he owed anyone a grovel, it was Archer. But she wouldn’t want his groveling. He’d lost her, and it was his own damn fault. Time to put thoughts of her aside.
“Shall we step inside?” Lady Callista asked.
Garret had quite forgotten he was with her.
“Yes, of course.” He gestured for her to step into the gazebo then followed.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a footman relighting some of the lanterns that had blown out, and for just an instant Garret thought—hoped?
—it might be Tamsin in disguise. But then the man straightened, and he was too tall to be Tamsin.
“Are you even listening to me, Mr. Kildare?”
“I beg your pardon, my lady.”
Lady Callista sighed audibly.
“I do apologize. What were you saying?”
She put her hands on a railing and stared out at the Withsteads’ town house, which was garishly bright against the muted color of the garden.
The music floated out and over them. The sound of the strings coupled with the flickering candles set a very romantic mood.
Lady Callista looked at him, and Garret prayed she didn’t want him to kiss her.
“I like you, Mr. Kildare.”
Garret started with surprise. “You do?”
“Yes. In spite of your obvious ignorance about horses and your short attention span, I like you quite a lot.”
“I think you are endeavoring to compliment me,” he said, smiling.
“Don’t think I am so dull as not to know why you have given me your attentions of late. Like most younger sons, you want to marry an heiress.”
Garret was torn between being relieved she hadn’t guessed at his family’s situation and compelled to gainsay her for propriety’s sake. No woman wanted to think a man only pursued her for her fortune. She held up a hand. “Don’t deny it.”
“I believe I must. It’s a rule of some sort.”
She smiled, and she was pretty when she smiled. “Waste your breath if you like, but I’ve known for years I will almost certainly marry a man who wants me for my money. I don’t mind that as much as you might think. I’m a practical woman, Mr. Kildare. I don’t care much about love.”
Garret moved closer to her. He rather liked where this conversation was going.
“You are a handsome man, and you can be charming when you remember to pay attention. You do not seem overly interested in horses, but you are the sort of man who has a natural curiosity. I think you would take an interest in horseflesh given time and some effort. I think if we married, we would get along well.”
Garret’s heart had started to pound. He wasn’t certain why.
It wasn’t at the prospect of marrying Lady Callista.
Perhaps it was because he spotted a course to save Mariah from marrying an elderly invalid or perhaps it was pettier than that—he recognized a path that would lead to claiming the summer house and lording his ownership of it over his brothers.
“I just need to ask you one question, Mr. Kildare.”
Garret stared at her. Was she about to propose to him? He wouldn’t be surprised.
“Do you want to marry me?”
This was not a proposal—not the would-you-do-me-the-honor-of speech. This was a direct question about his feelings and desires. Garret opened his mouth to say yes.
Yes, Lady Callista, I want to marry you.
But the words stuck in his throat. She continued to look at him then pursed her lips. “Yes, that’s what I thought.”
No, Garret thought. Say what she wants. Say what Papa and Mama and Mariah need you to say. Say it to usurp Liam, if nothing else.
But Garret couldn’t do it. He couldn’t make himself say the words he knew Lady Callista wanted to hear.
“I don’t need love in a marriage,” Lady Callista said, her voice softer now, “but I do need a minimum of affection. I want a husband who likes me. Is that too much to ask?”
“Not at all,” he said, finally finding his voice. “And I do like you.”
“No, you don’t. If you never saw me again, you wouldn’t think twice about me.”
“I hope that’s not true. I genuinely like and respect you, my lady.”
She looked at him for a long moment. “Thank you. And thank you for being honest about not wanting to marry me—if one can be honest through omission.”
Garret ran a hand through his hair. “You do not know how much I desperately want to say yes.”
“Who is she then?” Lady Callista asked.
Garret cut his gaze to her. “I don’t—I mean, I haven’t—”
“You are in love with someone, Mr. Kildare. I may not be afflicted by the condition, but I recognize when someone else is. So, who is she?”
“I’m not in love with her.” He paced away then turned back. “I like her a great deal, but…love?” He shook his head. “No.”
“Keep telling yourself that. You might convince one of us. Is she at the ball?”
“Christ, I hope not.”
Lady Callista raised her brows.
Garret waved a hand. “I just mean that she wouldn’t have been invited. She’s not…she’s not one of us.”
“Ah. She’s from another class, and you can’t marry her because such a union would be deemed a mésalliance.”
“Something like that.” Even though Garret had told Lady Callista he liked her before, that hadn’t been true. He respected her. She demanded respect. But the more they spoke, the more he was beginning to like her. She would have made a good friend. Perhaps they could still be friends.
“You worry your family would disapprove?” she asked.
“They would, but more than that, such a marriage might hurt Mariah’s chances of a good match when she comes out in a few years.”
“And what does Lady Mariah say? If memory serves, she’s fifteen or sixteen. She’s not a child. Is she content for you to sacrifice your happiness for hers?”
“I haven’t discussed it with her.”
“Don’t tell me you are one of those men who protects a woman whether they want that protection or not. If she loves you, and from what I know of your family, I think she does, she will want you to be happy.”
Garret nodded. Lady Callista was right. The last thing Mariah would ever want was for him to give up his happiness for hers. He felt the exact same way about her. If she was in love with a man of a lower class, he’d want her to be happy.
“Besides,” Lady Callista said, “I’m not the sort who holds any animosity toward the Irish, but plenty do. I don’t think your mésalliance would cause the scandal you think.”
“Because everyone would say, What else do you expect from the Irish?”
“Do you really care what they’d say?”
“I don’t know.”
“In that case, you don’t deserve her—your lower-class miss.”
“No, I don’t.” He reached for Lady Callista’s gloved hand and kissed it. “I don’t deserve you either.”
“I know. Now, will you escort me indoors before everyone starts talking?”
“It would be my honor.” He proffered his arm.
As they walked back, Lady Callista looked up at him. “Might you put in a word with your brother Killian for me?”
Garret almost stumbled. “Killian? Why would you want his affections?”
“Because he’s passionate and brooding and has never looked at me twice—the same reason every woman wants him.”
“He doesn’t have half your intellect.”
“With a face like his, one doesn’t care about what’s between his ears.”
Garret shook his head. “I’ll put in a word, but don’t expect much. He’d find you terrifying.”
She shrugged. “Some men like that.”
“Yes, they do,” he said as he escorted her up the stairs and back to the ball. “Yes, they do.” He bent and kissed her hand.
“Are you leaving?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“To see your lower-class miss?”
“No. Good night, Lady Callista.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Kildare.”
And when he looked back, she was still standing in the doorway watching him.