Happily Ever Afters Guaranteed (17 page)

Drat everything tonight.

I tried not to look at him as he descended
opposite us. But our eyes met and held, and under the intensity of
his gaze, I faltered and missed the last step. He reached out a
hand to steady me. The contact was over before I could blink. Or
maybe I only imagined the warmth of his hand.

He stood back so that Minerva and I could
precede him down the stairs. I felt his eyes burning into my back
the rest of the way down.

At the bottom of the staircase, I stepped to
the side and paused, half-hidden behind the banister. Minerva
didn't seem to notice my absence as she moved easily through the
press of people. Could I sneak back upstairs unnoticed?

“May I have the first dance, Miss Briggs?”
Andrew’s voice came close to my ear, low and intimate. All thoughts
of escape flew from my brain. My lower back burned where his hand
touched it.

“I--” The rest of my words lodged somewhere
near my sternum. I swallowed, but my mouth felt like sandpaper and
I couldn't get anything else out.

“Say yes.” His warmth breath on my cheek made
my pulse thrum. “Don't make me beg.”

I couldn't look at him, afraid he'd see the
emotions that quivered through me. “Okay.”

“I'll find you when the music starts.” And he
was gone.

My heartbeat clanged like the beat of a
well-swung hammer against an anvil. This time it didn't shatter.
Nor did it slow down during the twenty interminable minutes before
the violinist drew his bow across the strings and sent the first
notes out over the noise of the crowd.

Andrew appeared at my elbow and swept me into
the frenzy of dancing couples, though it wasn't like any dance I
knew from my life before the nineteenth century.

Ruth had showed me the steps to the most
popular dances a few days ago and I managed now without making too
many noticeable mistakes. The English country dance required almost
no touching, but each time Andrew's hand closed over mine, I felt
the same spark of energy that had pulsed through me on our ride
across the moor.

He didn't speak, even during the part of the
dance where we spun in a tighter circle by ourselves. I only met
his eyes in fleeting glances because I didn't want him to know how
he affected me.

I focused instead on my footwork and on the
couples conversing around us.

“I declare, the Howarths certainly host a
divine ball.”

I caught the words from the woman dancing
next to us. She was stunning. Her fine dress and hair coiffed with
sparkling jewels spoke of her wealth. Her partner appeared to hang
on every word.

“Oh!” She gasped softly. “I cannot believe
who Andrew Howarth is dancing with.”

My face heated and I missed a step. What was
the next move? I froze.

“Mattie,” Andrew whispered. He clasped my
wrist and drew me into the proper formation. Our eyes met and held.
His smiled as if he hadn't heard the painful words. But I couldn't
seem to block them out.

A giggle. “Yes, simply scandalous. Her sister
dallied with her beau.”

All other conversations in our vicinity
stopped.

I extricated myself from Andrew's grasp,
ignoring the fact that he called after me, and slipped out a nearby
veranda door without looking back. In seconds, I was hidden deep in
the garden, where no one could hear the sobs I muffled in my
hands.

Humiliation worse than what I'd felt in the
churchyard obliterated the one seed of hope I'd held onto. Why
would Andrew choose someone with a past like mine?

Why had Minerva betrayed me?

Why didn't God protect me? He'd taken away
everything – my parents, my fiancé, my life.

“For God so loved the world…”

The words from John 3:16 reverberated in my
head. It was the first memory verse I’d ever learned.

“No.” The groan ripped from my raw throat.
Chilled from the cold, wet air, shivers racked my body. I didn't
want to think about God's love. Love hurt too much.

“...that He gave His only Son...”

“She betrayed me.” Sob. “Just like Jared.”
Sniffle. “And Hannah.”

“But God demonstrates his own love for us in
this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

Hadn’t Jesus been betrayed?

And given his own life anyway?

How could I resist Someone who loved me that
much?

Oh, God, I’m sorry.

Peace stole into the darkness, warmth spread
over my goosebump-riddled skin. I wiped the tears from my
cheeks.

I still didn’t know why God had allowed those
closest to me to betray me, but I knew that He never would. I could
go on, even if I had to go on alone.

I remained in the garden, praying. I prayed
for Jared and Hannah and for Minerva. Even for Andrew, though that
prayer ripped my heart out. The realization that he was better off
without me was hard to bear, but its truth resonated in my
heart.

Not ready to go back in to the ball yet, I
knew that if I stayed out here any longer I would likely cause
another scandal. I got up.

The sound of voices stilled me. I recognized
one of them – Minerva. “I dare say we should go back now. She is
not here.”

“In a moment, poppet.”

I didn’t recognize the male voice, but its
tone set my teeth on edge. Should I sneak away, or go to meet them?
Lead me, Lord.

“I insist we return to the ball.”

When I moved to find them, my slippers didn't
make a sound against the garden pavers. That was good, but it meant
that Minerva's wouldn't either. How could I locate them without
calling out?

The man's voice came again. “Aw, come now,
poppet. I agreed to help you look for your sista. I should get
sumpin' in return.”

I heard a sound like a slap.

“You shouldna done that.”

“Unhand me!” Minerva cried out.

I ducked around a corner in the hedge and
came upon them. A man clutched Minerva’s shoulders while she
struggled.

Fear for Minerva and anger at someone who
would try to hurt her pulsed through me. I rushed at them and my
clenched fist connected with the man’s jaw. Pain splintered up my
wrist and forearm. Minerva fell to the ground. I moved between her
and the man.

His eyes were dark and glinted with evil
intentions. I could see the rest of his face clearly in the light
of the full moon and his twisted smile sent a shiver of fear or
disgust through me. He touched his lip and his hand came away with
blood on the fingertips.

Before he could try anything else, I blurted,
“I think you should leave. You’re not welcome here.”

He laughed, expelling hot breath that reeked
of alcohol. “I don't think so.”

He reached out for me, but I stepped out of
his reach.

“I'll have me payment first, lassie.”

Minerva whimpered.

My whole hand throbbed from the punch I'd
thrown. What should I do now?

The sound of approaching footsteps sent
relief spinning through me, almost making me dizzy. I called
out.

Andrew and Tristan rounded the corner.

###

Moments later, Minerva sat on the stone bench
where she'd been relocated by Andrew. She wept into the
handkerchief he'd given her. I sat next to her, patting her
shoulder lightly, trying to ignore Andrew's presence in the shadows
nearby. Instead, my skin prickled with awareness.

“Tristan will be back in a moment,” I
murmured.

Minerva began to sob in earnest.

“Ssh.” I wrapped my arm over her shoulders.
“You're okay. We're both all right.”

“I h-h-hate you.”

Stunned, I broke contact and sat back. I'd
just saved her, and she hated me?

“He chose you. Stone called on me first – he
was my suitor! And you took him from me.”

I didn't want to hear this, but Minerva went
on anyway. “So I took him back.”

She hiccuped. “I intended only to test him,
but each stolen moment... He was so charming. He loved me better,
you know.”

Heat swept over me, bringing the familiar
hurts with it. It was worse, knowing that she'd wanted to betray
me.

“He intended to break the engagement. One
afternoon, we embraced. One thing led to another, and when you
found us—” She began to cry again. I reached for her. She batted my
hand away. “You ruined everything.”

I folded my hands in my lap, trying to still
their trembling. I bowed my head. God... Nothing else came. The
peace I'd felt from before remained, replacing the hurt. A nudge in
my spirit reminded me what was expected. I breathed in deeply.
Touched Minerva's hand.

“I forgive you.”

She looked up as I spoke the words. For a
moment, her eyes seemed to soften. Then her face twisted. “You
cannot forgive me. You're not my real sister.”

“What?” My heart beat painfully in my
chest.

“I know your secret. Ruth told me everything.
Even if I hadn't believed her, your ignorance that I was the one
who betrayed you would have given it away.”

“That may be true, but it looks like you're
stuck with me.” Tamping down the panic that rose in my chest, I
glanced over my shoulder where Andrew stood, a few yards away. Had
he heard Minnie's words?

“Where are they?” Tristan's muffled voice
interrupted further conversation. I stood up and turned away from
Minerva. I couldn't bear to look at Andrew. To see what he really
thought of me.

My actions tonight were the icing on the
cake. Even if Andrew had somehow managed to look past the fact that
I'd helped birth the foal, there was no ignoring that I punched one
of his mother's guests. Defending my sister or not, it wasn't
ladylike.

“I'll escort you inside.” I barely registered
Tristan's words, or that Minerva left with him.

I folded my arms across my midsection, trying
to stave off the chill that had taken up residence with Minerva's
last words. I really didn't want to go back inside and face that
crowd again. Maybe I could stay out here until they all left.

Andrew's shoe scuffed against the ground
behind me. He cleared his throat. Did he have to be so polite? I
wished he would just disappear. Then I wouldn't have to face
him.

“We should probably go back inside,” I said.
I turned to find him only a few feet away. The moonlight cast
angular shadows on his face. He was smiling. The rogue.

“I wish to have a word with you first.”

The urge to escape made my toes tingle. He
couldn't have anything good to say after tonight's shenanigans.
“Andrew...”

He came closer. His smile faded.
“Please.”

With a broken nod, I allowed him to take my
arm and seat me on the stone bench. He slipped off his coat and
laid it over my shoulders. Our shoulders brushed when he sat
down.

“Let me see your hand.” He took the one that
still throbbed and began to slip off the white elbow-length glove I
wore. Heat from his palm grazed my skin.

He brushed his thumb over each of my knuckles
before tilting his head to appraise my face. “I don't suppose you
considered that you could have been harmed before you rushed in to
rescue your sister.”

“No.” I could barely get the word out past my
trembling lips.

“Of course not.” He raised my hand to his
lips. The gentle pressure of his kiss against the forming bruise
was like nothing I'd ever felt before.

His eyes held mine and seemed to be sending
me a message, but it must've been coded because I couldn't decipher
it. I looked away, my heart slamming against my ribcage.

“I know it wasn't the proper thing to do. I'm
sorry for ruining your parents' ball.” I tried to pull my hand from
his grasp, but Andrew only held tighter. “I don't mean to keep
causing trouble. It just sort of... follows me around.”

“Your sister may not appreciate you at this
moment, but she will.” He touched my lowered chin, raised it. His
thumb skimmed my jaw. “As I do.”

I gasped and raised my eyes to Andrew's face,
only to find him leaning closer.

“Wait.” I tried to stop him with a hand to
his chest. It didn't work.

He just took my other hand in his and
murmured, “I have waited a lifetime.”

His mouth covered mine with gentle fervor,
firm but undemanding. New tears sprang up behind my closed
eyelids.

I kissed him back.

He withdrew too soon. His hands moved to my
shoulders and he brushed another kiss against my temple. “Mattie,”
he whispered. “I have long dreamed of someone like you.”

Shaken, I let out a strangled laugh. “A
bluestocking?”

He pulled me closer. The stubble on his chin
rasped against my cheek as his head lowered. I couldn't help
myself. I raised my face and met his kiss again.

Love welled up from the deepest crannies of
my heart. So much so that I could no longer contain it. I wrapped
my fingers in Andrew's shirtfront and eagerly let my lips speak for
me. When I pulled back, breaking the kiss, he pressed his cheek
against mine.

Andrew spoke first, his voice coarse. “You're
no more of a bluestocking than my mother. You're strong. You fight
for what you believe in and for your family.” He paused, took a
breath. “I wish to marry you.”

Marry me? Andrew wanted to marry me?

Words wouldn't come out of my suddenly dry
mouth.

“Will you accept my hand?”

I swallowed. Andrew deserved to know the
truth if we were going to spend our lives together. “There's a lot
you don't know about me.”

“I know enough. I love you.”

The words seeped inside me, filling all of
the places that had been broken before. God, please. Let it be
real. “Say it again.”

His mouth came down on mine, firmer this
time. “I love you. Marry me,” he said against my lips.

My heart insisted there was only one
answer.

“I will.”

###

Two months later, we said our vows in the
same little church where Andrew had once humiliated me.