APretenseofLove (4 page)

“Not really, no. I poured myself into my schoolwork and
making friends, so I wasn’t unhappy.” But he now knew why he preferred
mistresses to wives or families. He was comfortable with the lack of affection
and expectations. In the months after Jean and her mother left Three Gables, he
had discovered something about himself. “I want more for my family.”

“I’m surprised to hear you speak of your own family. I
thought you were planning to wait to begin your nursery until you could put it
off no longer.” There was no accusation in her tone this time.

“I thought so too, once.” He steered down Mount Street
toward Berkeley Square.

“My mother married for love. She was happy to do without
material things just to be with my father. Then one night he was in his cups
and confessed the lady he’d proposed to first had turned him down.”

Ben shook his head. “That is unforgivable.”

“And unforgettable. I used to hear her crying in the kitchen
at night, but she only admitted the truth to me a few years ago.” Miss Seton’s
shoulders straightened. “I won’t marry any man unless I am certain he loves me
in return.”

“You deserve no less.”

Did he love her? He wanted her. Of that he was certain. He
was far happier now, in London, where he could spend time with her, than he’d
been at Greater Yarmouth. What did love feel like? He only knew the kind his
parents had after years spent together. Yet there must be something more to it
than simply being comfortable with one’s choice of spouse. He wanted passion.
He wanted always to feel his blood rush the way his did when he thought about
kissing Miss Seton. He would settle for no less.

Miss Seton coughed softly. “I won’t share my husband with a
mistress.”

“No man could even think of another woman when he’s with
you.”

Her cheeks darkened. “We shouldn’t speak of such things.”

“Yes, we should. You know I wish to marry you, no matter how
much you pretend otherwise. If we cannot speak plainly, there is no hope for a
happy outcome.”

“You know my feelings on the matter. I can’t state them any
more plainly than I just did.”

“The mistress thing, do you mean? I ended our relationship
and have no desire to form a new one of that sort. I want only one woman, Miss
Seton. I wish for you to become my wife.”

“You said you enjoyed the time we spent at Three Gables
pretending to be betrothed. You didn’t fall in love with me, if you believe
that is what you feel. You fell for the situation. I can see how you came to
realize the married lifestyle could be pleasant, and I am happy for you to know
this about yourself. But now you must look for the woman who suits you best. I
am not that woman. You only think so because I was there with you.”

“I disagree. I know what I feel, no matter how new the
feeling is. I would not be happy with anyone but you.” He was determined to
find a way to prove it to her.

Jean watched Mrs. Granderson sort through the morning post
and the calling cards received after yet another ball they’d attended the night
before. She hoped for some correspondence addressed to her, anything to
entertain her.

“Why is my nephew’s card here? He isn’t required to inform
me when he’ll visit. This must be for you, my dear. And the rest of the cards
too.” She handed the engraved cards to Jean.

Turning over the one reading
Mr. Benjamin Tilbury
,
Jean studied his brief scrawl that said he’d stop by early. She turned it
around and stared at his name, as if it would answer her questions about him.
Was this another of his games? He’d danced with her twice the prior evening,
very properly and not even requesting the supper dance. Tonight he would escort
the three ladies to Vauxhall. She could think of no reason he would need to
visit in the morning.

She tried to read the letter from her friend in Hambledon,
but the words jumbled together no matter how many times she went over them.
Blast that man! He appeared, in one way or another, just often enough to always
stay fresh in her thoughts, and she knew he did it by design.

“Jean?” Mama held out the letter she’d been reading. “It’s
from Gilbert. I believe you would be interested in what he has to say.”

Jean took the missive.

Dearest Mother,

I have in my hand a message from Ben Tilbury that has me
flummoxed, to say the least. I am hoping you can either write and clarify the
situation for me or investigate the truth of the situation. It was my
understanding that the betrothal between Tilbury and Jean was only to be
disclosed to Sir Waldo and would end when the deceit was no longer needed.

Yet he has written to ask for my sister’s hand in marriage—

“It’s true, then.” Jean reached with shaking hand for her
teacup, rattling the spoon resting on the saucer.

Mrs. Granderson looked up from her correspondence. “Is
something amiss?”

“It’s nothing to be concerned about,” Mama said hurriedly.
“There seems to be a small misunderstanding.”

“Small? Mama, this is my entire life the man is toying with.
That is anything but
small
.”

“Yes, dear, but I am certain if we spoke to the gentleman—”

Mrs. Granderson straightened and lowered her glasses. “With
which gentleman are we speaking?”

Mama hesitated, her gaze on Jean, then said, “It is your
nephew, I’m afraid.”

A small smile lit Mrs. Granderson’s face. “Ben, I presume?
What has the boy done now?”

Jean set down her brother’s missive and placed her
fingertips over her mouth while debating what to reveal and what to conceal.
She finally decided a full confession was in order. “I don’t know how much your
nephew confided in you prior to our arrival, and I do hope this doesn’t alter
your friendship with my mother, as she is innocent of all deceit. You see, your
father was quite insistent that his heir be married when he took over the
companies he’d worked so hard to build. I imagine he thought it would settle
him down.”

Mrs. Granderson chuckled softly but didn’t interrupt.

“Mr. Tilbury was not inclined to marry at that time and
thought it would be harmless to let Sir Waldo believe otherwise. Give the man
some small comfort before he passed.”

“So the dear boy bribed you into playing the part of his
fiancée, I gather. I admit, I had wondered what sort of debt he could owe your
brother, that he would be so lavish in his expenditures on your behalf.”

Jean grew uncomfortably warm and wished she could crawl
beneath the table. “I didn’t ask for any of it, ma’am. I only wanted to accept
what was necessary to find a husband, to provide for my mother and myself.
Gilbert’s income barely supports him, and should he wish to marry someday he’ll
not have enough to keep two homes. I had begun to enquire about a position but
when Mr. Tilbury came to me with his proposition…well, I confess, I thought it
was an answer to my prayers. He has been more than generous, embarrassingly so,
and I’m not quite sure how to ask him to please not spend any more money on my
account.”

Mrs. Granderson pursed her lips and shook her head. “You
don’t know him as I do, so of course you wouldn’t see it, but the young man is
quite taken with you.”

“I—but he’s not—it’s merely—”

Mama gave Jean a look like a cat that’d discovered a bowl of
custard. “I thought so too, Araminta, but I couldn’t speak to you about it
without breaking their confidence.” She seemed quite pleased with the news
Gil’s letter carried.

Jean frowned. “As I told him, he is not taken with me. He
simply discovered he enjoyed the companionship Mama and I offered. He would be
equally pleased with whatever woman he took as his wife.”

Mama laughed, making Jean glare in her direction. “If you
knew him as I do, you’d see it’s so,” Jean explained.

“This from the girl who has recited poems of love and romance
since she was old enough to understand the inflections. Dear, he has formed an
attachment with you. Is that so hard to accept? Are your feelings for Lord
Milford so strong you feel nothing for Mr. Tilbury?”

“I—” Her protest died on her lips. Her mother and Mrs.
Granderson knew enough about love to see through most of the arguments she’d
given herself. “Mr. Tilbury is a kind sort of man, I’m learning, which
surprised me to find in one who would consider fooling his grandfather on his
deathbed. He is generous enough with supplying what I needed for a London
Season, but does that mean he will be equally so with his heart?”

“I can say this for him,” Mrs. Granderson said. “He never
gives up on any undertaking he begins. I’ve never known him to not be
successful in getting what he wants.”

Mama reached for Gil’s letter, folding it away in her
pocket. “I believe you need to determine exactly what you want, Jean, so you’ll
know how to respond when he speaks to you.”

Jean took her letters and fled the room as gracefully as she
could. They didn’t realize he’d already spoken to her and she’d turned him
down. More than once, in a manner of speaking.

Such a vexing man. His nerve, to write Gilbert without
asking her if she would consider his proposal. That was not part of their
agreement.

Had she ever really rejected him? She continued to walk out
with him and accept rides in his phaeton, which she would never admit she
enjoyed greatly. Especially when he took them away from the traffic where he
could give the horses their heads. There was something so exhilarating in
driving so fast.

She’d asked him not to buy her treats, yet she’d refused
none of them. He’d even managed to buy an occasional gift, claiming he was
replacing something lost or damaged during her stay in Greater Yarmouth. It was
all highly improper and she should have put an end to it. If she continued to
allow such indiscretions, she was little better than a Cyprian who offered her
body in exchange for coin.

Mr. Tilbury could not buy her body or her heart.

When he arrived later, she would tell him not call on her
again. She would tell her mother and Mrs. Granderson of her decision so they
didn’t continue to encourage the match. No matter how much she enjoyed his company,
the fact remained there was nothing to stop him from acquiring another mistress
at any time after their marriage. And that would surely devastate Jean.

* * * * *

Ben nearly bounded through the entryway of his aunt’s
townhouse. Miss Seton seemed to be softening in her opinions of him, if her
behavior at the ball last night was any indication. He should be able to
conclude his business here in London and return home soon.

He peered into the morning room but the space was empty.
Continuing down the hall, he strode into the library, certain Miss Seton would
be there.

She stood staring out the glass at the roses behind the
house. She didn’t look up when he entered, so he quietly crossed the room.

He spoke when he drew close. “Good morning. Are you deciding
which outfit you’ll wear to Vauxhall tonight?”

She didn’t look his way. “No. My thoughts were otherwise
engaged.”

“I see.” But he didn’t see. Her quiet manner wasn’t what
he’d expected. If she were angry, she would rail at him, so what caused this
forlorn countenance? She’d made a complete turnaround in attitude since he’d
left her last night. He paced a few steps, debating what to say. “I leave for
Greater Yarmouth on Tuesday next.”

“Does your business call you back?”

“Yes. It wouldn’t do to let the board see they can manage
well without me. I need to make myself necessary to them.”

A soft smile spread on her face. “It is important to be
needed, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know that I have ever been aware of the feeling, to
be honest.”

Miss Seton tipped her head slightly to rest her cheek on the
glass. “That is something else important to a relationship. Honesty.”

The lack of accusation in her tone cut through him. She
wasn’t throwing barbs. She was resigned to something, and he had no clue what
had her so upset. “I presume that remark is aimed at me, but I confess to not
understanding its intent.”

“It had none. I’ve just been considering what I want in a
marriage.”

“Honesty from one’s partner is highly important.” He cleared
his throat and glanced toward the open doorway, where he expected his aunt or
Mrs. Seton to appear upon hearing of his arrival. “Miss Seton, have I done
something to displease you? Aside from the usual, I mean. I came bearing no
gifts, as you have asked.” He held his arms wide, showing he had nothing hidden
on his person.

“Nothing so direct, sir. I only wish you would leave me to
my search for a husband.”

Her words sliced his heart in two. Did she despise him as
much as that? She wasn’t even considering him among her choices. What had he
done to have his name crossed off that list, if it had ever been on it?

His chin dropped to his chest and he scratched the back of
his neck. If he had any feelings for her, he should go back home, as she’d been
asking of him since his arrival in Town. That’s what he told himself, but he
couldn’t do so. He did have feelings for her, and they weren’t the kind from
which one could walk away.

No, what he felt was worth fighting for. “I’m afraid I
cannot do that. I can’t go back to Three Gables knowing the walls will never
ring with your laughter. Knowing I shall never look out the window of my study
and see you pruning the roses threatening to invade the paths in the park. Such
a life isn’t to be borne.”

Now she turned to look at him, but there was no fire in her
glassy eyes. If anything, they looked sad and empty. “There is no hope that a
marriage between us would bring happiness to both parties. And I cannot endure
a life such as my mother has.”

He stepped closer, raising a hand to her velvety-smooth
cheek. “How can you think I would let you be so unhappy?”

Miss Seton moved away from his touch. “Such a thing is not
in your control, sir. I understand myself well enough to know I could never
survive having my heart broken.”

He closed his eyes to shut out the sorrow in her gaze. There
was nothing more to say, no matter how much he wished to sway her feelings. She
wanted no more of him.

Bowing stiffly, he said, “I bid you good day, then.”

The moment he climbed into his phaeton he jerked on the
reins. The sudden start threw him back against the seat. He traveled too
quickly and knew he should slow the horses, but he only wished they’d go
faster.

How fast would they have to go to outrun the pain stabbing
in his chest? His throat ached with it. A large lump made swallowing difficult.
He needed a drink, the early hour be damned. He was too likely to snap off the
head of anyone who spoke to him, so he avoided the clubs.

Instead, he turned the vehicle toward his rooms near Portman
Square. With any luck Ringley would be sleeping still, as he rarely rose before
midafternoon. In a move unlike himself, Ben required his valet to return the
phaeton to the stables. He went straight to his study and poured himself a
whisky. Downing several swallows in rapid succession, he prayed the burn would
ease his pain.

It did nothing.

Raking a hand through his hair, he paced behind his desk. A
wise man would pack his bags and return to the country, forgetting he’d ever
had an interest in a wife.

Had he been a wise man, he would have known how to court Miss
Seton to ensure a successful match. He couldn’t comprehend what she disliked
about him. He was not so egotistical as to believe he had no faults, but could
think of none that would make him a poor husband.

He continued to pace and scratch his neck, looking for
answers. Looking for peace of mind, if such a thing existed.

The door opened and Ringley entered, rubbing his puffy eyes.
His voice resounded with the gravel of heavy sleep. “Do you not own any quieter
boots?”

Ben threw a glare at his friend. “Shall I send for my
slippers, then?”

“Either that or stand in one place for longer than a
minute.”

“What has you so cross? You didn’t drink excessively last
night.”

“My head pains me and your stomping boot heels are out to
kill me. Sit, man, please.”

Ben ceased his pacing but continued to stand. For the moment
at least, until the frustration overtook him once more.

Ringley dropped into a chair, throwing one leg over the arm.
“What has she done?”

“She won’t have me.” Ben wasn’t of a mind to pretend he
didn’t know which female Ringley referred to. The man knew him too well.

“Are you certain?” Ringley quickly ducked and raised an arm
in front of his face. “Forget I asked that. She turned you down, then?”

“She asked me to leave Town and allow her to continue her
pursuit of a husband.”