Beth through time, p.14
Beth Through Time, page 14
I wanted to groan. John would be so angry with me. He had already been difficult to persuade to let me join the social season this year. If he found out about this, he might never let me go anywhere by myself again.
"You cannot tell John," I shot out, pleading.
Rose paused, looking pained. "Beth... I married your brother. I won’t keep secrets from him. But I think you don't give him enough credit. John loves you, as do I. We both want what is best for you. Please trust me, you can tell us anything."
I hesitated, the words sticking in the back of my throat. I did not want to let my brother down. Tipping the cup, I finished the dregs of tea, savoring any moment I had before I faced Rose and told her what had happened.
"When Anne and I attended Lady Westham's ball, I helped a friend who did not want to meet the man she was supposed to get betrothed to. I pretended to be her and danced with the duke in her stead." Rose's eyebrows crawled up towards her hairline; her shocked expression would have been funny if it had not been for the circumstances.
"You what?... A duke?” Rose’s eyes flashed between Anne and me. “And this friend, I suppose you mean Willa?”
"Yes." I nodded. "The duke assumed I was Willa, and we kept up the ruse for a few weeks before he found out that I was not his soon-to-be betrothed."
"And then?" Rose stood and paced the room. She stopped at the whiskey decanter but sighed and returned to the table to finish the rest of her tea. Anne was focusing her eyes on a random spot on her lap, making sure to not glance at Rose.
"He spurned me."
"Okay..." Rose's eyes were flitting back and forth while she thought. "Are you alright? Does anyone else know?"
I shook my head. "No one."
Rose sighed. "Oh Beth, I'm sorry that happened. But since he was supposed to marry someone else perhaps it's for the best? Maybe you can go to other events and just enjoy the rest of the season. There is always next year. You deserve to find someone who understands the real you and loves you for who you are."
"Will you tell John?"
Rose's shoulders rose as she inhaled. "I won't, but I think you should tell him yourself."
"I will."
"Tell me what?" John said as he strode into the room.
Anne nudged me. I was aware of what she was thinking; I had not told Rose the full truth.
I gave Anne a swift shake of my head. "Later," I whispered.
John kissed his wife's cheek, a bright smile livening up his face. "Did you tell them the good news?"
"What's the good news?" I asked as Rose smiled up at John, her eyes glossy.
Rose pulled her eyes away from John and chuckled. "I hadn't gotten to that, yet. I wanted to wait to do it together. But since we are all here." She paused as she brushed the palm of her hand along her belly. "We're having a baby."
"Really?" I looked at my brother. "I'm going to be an aunt?"
John beamed. “Yes, Rose is pregnant."
I jumped up and kissed Rose's cheek before pulling my brother in for a hug, squeezing him tightly.
"I am so happy for you both. I cannot wait to meet my niece or nephew."
The good news about Rose's pregnancy had managed to subvert my own thoughts and feelings regarding the duke who may or may not be a duke, for most of the day. It was only when Anne pulled me aside in the evening as I prepared to retire that I was forced to confront the strange situation outside the Duke of Cashel's London home once more.
"Why did you not tell Rose everything?" Anne whispered in the corridor. We were standing at the base of the staircase. I heard Rose and John giggle to each other from the sitting room, and, towards the back of the house, the soft tinkling of chinaware and glass as they were being hand washed by a scullery maid.
I lowered my voice as well. "I did not want to omit anything, but before I tell Rose and my brother anything more, I need to be certain. Perhaps there is a reason why he has not visited his own home."
"Like what?" Anne raised her brow.
"Well...I do not know, but that does not mean there could not be a reason. A reason I intent to find out."
"Perhaps you should forget about the duke. Rose is right, we can still enjoy the social events this season and perhaps you will find a match next year." Anne held still as she looked at me with anticipation.
"Perhaps," I answered.
Anne let out a weary sigh. "I suppose that will have to do for now.”
19
A Few Old Fish Crates
I was aware that Anne would have preferred it if I had put my thoughts of the duke aside and returned to circle the ballroom floor with her at whatever was the current fashionable location to be, but I could not. I needed to know the truth.
Therefore, the next evening, I remained home while my brother, Rose, and Anne headed out to attend a soirée at the home of a retired naval captain who used to be acquainted with my parents. Though Anne was reluctant to leave me behind.
Across town, there was another event going on, some festivities organized by a wealthy merchant, a good place for other merchants, bankers, and possible investors to meet and mingle. I wagered that Ms. Chapman might be attending, and therefore, there was a good chance that the duke would make an appearance as well.
I pulled a pair of trousers from my dresser drawer and mumbled a silent thanks to Rose for insisting on having them made. Wearing those in addition to a shirt and a cloak with a hood would make it difficult to recognize me in the dark. The moon was at its smallest, so there would be hardly any light to reveal my appearance.
I did not want to leave prematurely, so I picked at my food, too nervous to eat in earnest. My gaze kept darting back to the standing clock in the kitchen until, finally, I decided it was time to go. With John, Rose, and Anne gone, there was no one to watch my movements, so I pulled on one of the cloaks and drew the hood up over my face before exiting the front door.
***
Sticking to the shadows, I waited outside the merchant’s alley near the docks. The night was dark with only a smattering of stars visible through the heavy layer of clouds. I kept my eyes focused on the entrance to the warehouse. Soft giggles and murmured voices floated out with the gentle notes of music. Lots of people showed up to celebrate the opening of the new facility. All I had to hope was that the duke—or whomever he was—was in attendance and would be heading home soon. Golden light flickered out of the side windows, illuminating the immediate area.
I did not want to wait in vain, so I sneaked closer and jetted off to a side alley when the last stragglers standing outside the building left. The side windows were high and narrow. I stood on my tiptoes but could not reach them. By Jove, how was I supposed to glance inside and ascertain whether or not the duke was in attendance. I squinted my eyes and searched around the alley. Discarded in a corner, I found a few old fish crates. The sour smell wafting out from them was overwhelming, but I bit back bile and picked them up. Below one of the windows, I stacked the crates as securely as I could. Grabbing on to the brick wall, I climbed up on the crates. I held my breath for a moment as the wooden slats creaked, groaned, and wobbled, but against all odds, they were able to hold my weight. I exhaled and peeked through the window, scanning the crowd. Where was the duke?
Groups of people gathered near a long table covered in a cloth that reached the floor, laden with treats and bowls of punch. I focused on each of the faces, but none of them was the duke. Disappointed, I moved my attention elsewhere, but I did not see him dancing in the middle either. I was about to give up hope when I spotted a dark-haired figure in the corner. My heart raced. So, I was right; the duke was here.
I carefully lowered myself to the ground and returned to my earlier vantage point. There, hidden in darkness, I leaned against the wall and waited for the duke to exit.
It was nearly midnight when I spotted him leaving the warehouse. He lowered his head at that insipid Mary Chapman before heading in the direction of the Thames.
I had been expecting him to hail a cab so I had to scramble to follow him. Though for my first time out following someone, I thought I was doing a splendid job. I wished I could tell Anne about it later, but I doubted that she would be thrilled that I left the house by myself to follow a man who we knew for a fact had been lying about his identity. And all that in the middle of the night. What was I doing? Had I gone mad?
But as they said; in for a penny, in for a pound. It was too late to turn back now.
I planted my feet as quietly as I was able while trailing Edmund who, twenty or so feet in front of me, walked without a care in the world, even whistling a merry tune. My heart pounded. I did not want to confront him so near the water; it was better to find out where he was going first.
Wait, where did he go? I only took my eyes off him for a moment. I picked up my pace and sighed a breath of relief when I found him around the corner in front of a flight of stairs. He walked up to the second story and, after unlocking the door, entered a room.
Not needing to hide for the moment I walked to the front of the building. A large sign was tacked up in the ground floor window; Rooms for Let, 10 Shillings a Week.
So, this was where Edmund was staying.
I swallowed back my apprehension, climbed the flight of stairs to the fake duke’s room, and knocked.
Edmund opened the door and froze at the sight of me, his jaw dropped.
“What—what are you doing here?” He darted forward to peer over the side of the stairs.
“It is only me,” I said before realizing that perhaps that might not have been the smartest move. One of many not very smart moves I had made since my arrival in London.
Edmund stepped back again, clearly relieved no one else was there. “That still does not answer my question, Beth. Why are you here?”
“Should I not ask you what you are doing here instead, Your Grace?” I emphasized the last part enough for Edmund—or whatever his name was—to widen his eyes as understanding flooded his face.
He moved aside, creating space for me to enter. “Perhaps we should speak inside.” I followed him into the room. He turned to me. “So, what is it you want to say?”
I unfastened the cloak I was wearing and deposited it on top of a chair before crossing my arms. “I went to the Duke of Cashel’s London home to apologize for my deceit when I came to find out, to my surprise, that the duke was not in London. In fact, he never left Ireland.” I paced and stared at the man in front of me. “This made me wonder; who, then, was the man that I spent all those days with, if he was not the duke.”
“You were not supposed to find out.”
“Find out what? Who you are? You acted as if I had committed a sin when you found out I was not lady Willa Balfour. And I admit, I felt guilty. But you have been doing the same thing, and for what? What is it that you are doing?” My blood was boiling at his hypocrisy. “You made me feel horrible that day at the Farnsby’s ball, and for what?”
Edmund—or whatever his name was—paled. “I had no other option.”
“No other option?” I scoffed at him.
He shook his head. “When I found out that you were not Willa, and even before if I am being frank, I knew I needed to distance myself from you. My life is complicated.”
His words offered no explanation. I needed more. “Why? What are you doing here?”
“I am here to do what I did that day I took you to visit the orphanage.”
“What does the orphanage have to do with anything? What do I even call you?”
The man who I had thought was the duke chewed his lip. “You can call me Henry Fielding, though I am more widely known under a different nom du guerre.
I blinked, confused, waiting for...Henry...to elaborate.
Henry pointed at the door. “You should leave, return to your safe world of dances and cream tea with ladies. I am so close to what I set out to do.”
“Which is? I want to know who you are. I am not leaving until I do.”
Henry smacked his fist against the wall and cursed. “Fine, you want to know who I am? Perhaps you have heard of the Gentleman Thief?”
I gasped. “You mean to say that he is...you?” I did know that name, as most people in England did; the bane of the ton and folk hero to those in need. He swindled riches from those unscrupulous few with deep pockets and divided it amongst those in need. Of course, it meant that the law was always searching for him. The Gentleman Thief had been there the day William stood trial, though I had not paid attention to his appearance then. If I had, perhaps I would have realized his identity from the start.
His brown eyes stared into mine. “He and I are one and the same. Now that you know the truth, I need you to leave. And if you could promise me one thing; forget that I am here. Mary Chapman and her father have hurt a lot of people on their way to the top. A bit of wealth distribution would be the least of what they deserve.”
I frowned at his insistence at throwing me out of his room. His short explanation was not nearly enough; I needed more.
I stomped my feet. “No, I am not leaving.”
“What is it that you are looking for?” Henry asked, his real name still foreign in my head. His gaze darkened and his expression turned almost feline as he prowled towards me. Instinctively, I backed up until I knocked my shoulder against the wall of the cramped rental room. I gasped as he closed the distance and pushed his firm body against me, our faces near enough for me to feel his breath warming my skin. I was uncertain whether I wanted to kiss the scoundrel or call for help. Perhaps it was a bit of both.
“Is it this?” His hand traced slowly along the side of my body until it reached my hip then he bunched the fabric up and lifted the hem of my shirt. I shivered from the brisk air reaching my bared stomach. “Are you a spoiled girl who wants to experience a bit of adventure? Take a break from society?”
“It is not like that” I lifted my chin. “Why are you trying to push me away?”
“What is it like then?” Henry bit back.
He was angry, yes. But beyond that, I sensed a sadness. I wondered what it was. I knew I should leave and never think of this man again, but my body betrayed me. My skin felt like it was on fire.
“I switched identities to help a friend.”
“A friend?” Henry raised his brow and scoffed. “I am sure you did not mind it when you thought you were being courted by a duke.”
“I do not care about titles; I never have.” I pushed my palms against his chest.
“No?” He lowered his face towards mine until our noses skimmed, a dark glimmer in his eyes. I needed only to move a hairsbreadth and those soft, firm lips would be pressed against mine. A sliver of a smile crossed Henry’s lips as he saw the struggle in my eyes. “That is what I thought. The lady is too proud to slum it with the likes of me.”
“Stop it, Edmund.” I raised my chin and stared fiercely back at him.
Dropping the hem of my shirt and stepping back, he said, “I am not Edmund.”
“I know that. Despite what you may think, I still care. You cannot tell me that everything we have experienced these past weeks has been a lie. I refuse to believe that.”
“What does it matter? You can run safely back to your family. Perhaps find one of those other dandies to marry you. You would never consider cavorting with the likes of me.”
“The likes of you? And what would that be? A man who helps those in need? A man who is kind and generous to everyone who deserves it?”
Henry’s face twisted as he turned away from me. “A bastard, a thief, a liar.” I fell silent as his words echoed through the room. He shot out a sad laugh. “I told you, you would not like the person I am.”
I went over to him, cupped his face, and standing on my tiptoes, planted a kiss on his lips. “I like you just fine.”
Henry’s eyes widened momentarily before closing. He snaked his arm around me and pulled me in tight, nipping at my lower lip before crushing his mouth against mine. I sighed against him and deepened our kiss, my hands wandering around his muscular back. Henry’s tongue worked its way inside my mouth, teasing and tasting. His hands slid lower until they reached my buttocks. I yelped as he gripped my thighs firmly and lifted me up until my legs were practically wrapped around his waist.
Henry made me feel vulnerable and very much alive. How scandalized my brother and all the people of the ton would be if they could see me now.
Henry never once stopped his onslaught of kisses as he carried me the few steps towards the narrow single bed. He deposited me on top of the grayish blanket and took a moment to look at me. My cheeks flushed as I imagined the sight he was seeing. My shirt raised and rumpled to just below my breasts, hair wild, and lips swollen from his kisses. I moved my hand to lower my shirt.
“Don’t,” Henry said. “Let me look at you.” His appreciative gaze slid down the length of me. “You are so lovely, a mhuirnin.” He moved to sit on the bed. “Can I touch you?”
I nodded before swallowing. “As long as I can, too?”
Henry grinned, his canines showing. “Anywhere you might like, love.”
I started with running my fingers through his dark hair. He groaned, capturing my lips. Then, Henry licked and nibbled down the curve of my face and neck until he reached my clavicle. I ran my fingers across his shirt, frustrated by the barrier between his skin and myself. Henry caught my frown.
“Would you like it off?”
I licked my lips. “Yes.”
With a sweep of his arm, he tugged the cream shirt up and over his head, revealing a sharp chest and a fascinating trail of hairs that ran down from his belly button until it disappeared behind the edge of his trousers. I grazed my fingertips along the hairs.
I had never done anything like this before. Even my ill-begotten dalliance with Mr. Danby had only existed of longing gazes and the odd kiss on the top of my hand. Now, heat pooled at the apex of my thighs as Henry kissed my skin ever lower. His right hand palmed the side of my breast as if he was deciding on which plump fruit to pick, his thumb skimming the peak of my breast and turning my nipples into hard pebbles. Here and there, he stopped to mutter in Irish. The sounds were attractive but unintelligible to my ears.
