Chapter 15 #4
“You’re beyond anything I could have ever imagined.
” He kissed her as a strong wave of pleasure washed over him.
Just in time, he withdrew and spilled on her belly.
Then he rolled over and threw a hand over his eyes as his head spun and warm satiety washed over him.
He was dimly aware that Tamsin rose and returned.
He opened one eye and saw she’d placed a basin and a rag beside him.
She’d clearly washed off and was picking up her shift to dress.
“Not yet,” he said. “Come here.” He opened his arms, and she went to him, her body still too thin but warm.
They lay back on his coat, her head on his shoulder, her leg thrown over his stomach.
He closed his eyes, memorizing the feel of her in his arms, the smell of her hair, the sound of her breathing.
“The floor is bloody hard,” he said after a while.
She laughed. “It’s better than the street.”
He held her tighter. “I don’t want to think of you on the street. Isn’t there something—”
She put a finger on his lips before he could offer her money he didn’t really have.
“I’ll be able to afford more soon, if Maillardet likes my work.”
“Maillardet?”
She rose on an elbow. “I haven’t told you, have I? I repaired the caterpillar and returned it to him. He offered me an apprentice position. If I do well, he’ll train me to make clocks and watches too.”
Garret looked into her face and saw real pleasure. He also felt his fear about her future ease away. “No more coffee shops for you.”
“Thank God.”
“Soon we’ll have clocks by Archer.”
“I like the sound of that.” She laid her head back on his shoulder. “What will you do after you win the hand of your heiress?”
He couldn’t quite imagine life with a woman other than Tamsin, but when he closed his eyes there was one place he saw himself. “I’ll go to the summer house.”
“What’s the summer house?”
“It’s a building on my father’s land in Ireland.
It has lots of windows and so we would go there mainly in the warm weather.
” He described the interior from the peeling wallpaper to the warped floorboards.
“But the best part of the house was always the outside. There’s a field on one side with masses of flowers Mariah liked to pick.
She’d make us all crowns of wildflowers.
On the other side of the house is a lake where we could swim or take out a boat. It’s my favorite place in the world.”
“I’ve never been on a boat.”
Garret turned toward her. “Never? Do you swim?”
“Where? In the Thames? No, thank you.”
He almost said he’d take her to the summer house one day and teach her to swim, but then he remembered this was goodbye. She seemed to realize this as well. “My mother will wonder what happened to me.”
“I won’t keep you.”
They rose and dressed, facing away from each other. Garret felt awkward when he turned to her again. He reached for her hand, but she put it behind her back. “Don’t look sentimental now,” she said, straightening. “Don’t say something foolish like I wish I could see you again. You can’t.”
“I wish things were different,” he said.
“They’re not. Wishing won’t make me into a fine lady with a thousand hundred pounds. We part now as friends. If you see me on the street or in a shop, don’t acknowledge me. It’s better if we pretend we never knew each other.”
He felt his chest tighten at the thought of ignoring her some seven months or seven years from now. “If that’s what you want,” he said.
“A clean break.” She gave a decisive nod.
“It’s the only way.” She was correct. Of course she was.
In a year or so they’d each be living vastly different lives than they did today, and yet, he knew if he touched her in a year or ten or even twenty, he’d want her again.
They’d tumble right back into each other’s arms, ruining the lives they’d built apart.
She couldn’t be his now or in the future.
They would never be together like this again.
“If you ever need anything—”
“I won’t.”
He took a breath. “Goodbye then.”
She opened the door. “Goodbye.” He walked through it with the taste of her still on his tongue and his eyes stinging. He swiped at them but kept walking, not looking back. She wouldn’t be watching him walk away. He knew this was the last farewell.
· · ·
Garret didn’t know where to go. He thought about going to the Blue Boar.
He even strolled past it, peered inside, and kept moving.
He headed home, stopped outside 24 Hanover Square, then walked on.
He wandered through Hyde Park, along New Bond Street; he studied carriages arriving at Carlton House and then watched the flower girls in Covent Garden gathering their nightly blooms to sell outside the theaters.
He had been walking all day, and he was tired and hungry and thirsty. But he didn’t know where to go. Home wasn’t home any longer. Home was with Tamsin, and he could never go back there again.
“Buy me flowers, sir?” a high voice asked.
Garret looked down and saw a girl of about ten holding out a bunch of daisies. He tried to speak then cleared his throat. “Do you have any violets?”
“I can get some. Wait ’ere?”
He nodded as she ran back to the farmer doling out flowers and changed her daisies for violets. She ran back and thrust a half dozen beautiful violets at him. “Sir, ’ere are violets. That’ll be a farthing.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a farthing. Then he reached back and found a shilling. “Here’s a shilling. Go buy yourself something to eat.”
She handed him the flowers and took the shilling. “Thank ye!” He watched her scamper away, the black soles of her bare feet moving quickly. Garret took a breath and carried the violets home.
· · ·
Dawkins opened the door to the town house even before Garret had started up the front steps. “Sir, your mother and father have been looking for you.”
Garret frowned as he moved inside the door. “Why?”
Dawkins’s face betrayed nothing, as usual. “They are in the drawing room, sir. Shall I inform Mrs. Ashworth that we have another for dinner?”
“Fine.” Garret gave the butler his hat and coat.
“Shall I take these flowers to Mrs. Ashworth to put in water?”
Garret looked at the violets, still clutched in his hand. “No.” He carried them upstairs. Familiar voices floated out from the drawing room, and then Mariah was at the double doors.
“He’s here! Garret is back.”
His mother was beside her in an instant. “Oh, thank God. Where have you been?”
“Let the boy breathe.” His father took Mariah by the shoulders and moved her aside. “Come inside and sit down, Garret. Caroline, send for tea.”
The countess nodded. “Something more substantial than tea, I think.”
Garret allowed his father to put an arm about his shoulders and steer him into the drawing room.
Liam was there, standing at his usual place at the mantel.
He frowned when he saw Garret, but that in itself was not unusual.
Killian was there too, lounging on the sofa, booted feet on the gold cushions.
Their mother would smack him if she noticed.
His father led him to a chair near the fire, and Garret sat, holding the violets out before him.
Mariah sat on her knees at his feet and looked up at him. “Are those for me?” she asked.
“No.” His voice sounded raspy from disuse.
“Who are they for?” Mariah asked.
“No one.”
Garret saw his father exchange a look with Liam. Then Mama returned and smacked Killian’s shoulder with her fan. Killian lowered his feet to the floor. “Mrs. Ashworth is bringing tea and sandwiches.”
“He looks like he could use some brandy,” Killian said.
“Mrs. Ashworth will take care of that,” Mama said, meaning she’d told the housekeeper to put brandy in the tea.
“Where have you been, Garret?” Mama asked, her voice gentle. “We’ve had the solicitor and the magistrate here today asking after you.”
He frowned and then realized. “Oh, because of the broomers. I told them I was a Bow Street Runner.”
“So you know something about this business with the chimney sweep?” Papa asked.
“Yes.” He looked at his family, all staring back at him with concern in their eyes. “Where is Daire?” His brother was the only one missing.
“Out looking for you,” Liam said. “What the devil happened to you?”
“Liam, language.”
“You look as though you’ve been run over by a four-horse team.”
“I can’t do this anymore,” Garret said, surprised by the words coming out of his mouth. “I can’t pretend I’m not in love with her. I can’t pretend I’ll be unmoved living in a world without her.” Garret watched everyone’s jaws drop. Then Mariah grabbed his free hand.
“I knew it! Garret’s in love with a courtesan! Mama, the flowers are for his love.”
His mother put a hand on his shoulder. “Garret, is this true?”
“She’s not a courtesan,” he said with a stern look at Mariah. “But I am in love.”
And then everyone was speaking at once and crowding around him, their faces shining with happiness. Garret hated to be the one to take that pleasure from them. Fortunately, Killian did it for him.
“Don’t start celebrating yet,” Killian said. He hadn’t risen from the sofa, but the other members of the family parted as they looked over at him. Garret now had a view of Killian, whose feet were back up on the cushions. “If Garret’s ladylove is who I think she is, there’s nothing to celebrate.”
Mama looked down at Garret. “What does he mean? You said she wasn’t a lady of, er—ill repute.”
“Her name is Tamsin Archer,” Garret said, his throat closing a little as he spoke her name.
“Archer. Archer?” His father scratched his temple. “Of the Stratfordshire Archers?”
“Of the Covent Garden Archers,” Garret said. “I think you’d better sit down so I can explain.”
Liam, of course, didn’t sit down. He stood to the side of the mantel, but Mama, Papa, and Mariah took seats on the settee and the other red armchair. Mariah was smiling and nodding encouragement.
“I met her at—”