The Sweet and Spicy Regency Collection (26 page)

“That hope you feel is because you are taking care of yourself now. You are healing, becoming stronger. Soon you’ll be able to prove the doctors wrong and ride again.”

“No,” Radford insisted. “It’s you who have transformed me.”

If you care for him even a little, you will let him go
. His mother was right. He was confused, scared that he may never be the strong man he once was. He needed time to heal and see for himself that there were scores of women who could make him happy.

“Please do not press me,” May said. Her voice wavered as she held back a flood of tears. “My mind is set. I will not marry you.”

The affection flew from his expression. His gaze was as cold as the jade stones his eyes resembled. He slapped his white-gloved hand against his thigh, a sure sign of his agitation.

“You can drop the act.” He laughed then. It was a mirthless, pained laugh.

May’s heart stopped. “I don’t understand—”

“You must be the most skillful coquette I have ever met, ma’am. Imagine, I had believed you the most innocent of creatures.”

Innocent? May had never thought herself innocent. She’d suffered enough rejection and heartache to understand the harsh realities of the world. She splayed her hands in front of her. “I am who I am, Radford. I have never played any games.”

“Hah!” He tossed a hand in the air and paced, his cloak billowing out behind him. “You look at me with those large sorrowful eyes and see my disabilities. Admit it, you find me lacking.”

“Lacking?” Like an empty headed parrot, she could only repeat the outrageous charge.

“One favorable nod from the Duke of Newbury and you’ll become the rave of the season. Every beau of the town will be panting after you. That is what you want, isn’t it? That’s why you choose London over me.”

May shook her head, unable to believe her ears. The anger dripping from his tongue singed them. “I don’t understand, my lord.”

“My lord, is it now? You retreat to that prudish formality I once thought attractive? Well, it no longer wields the same power it once did, ma’am. I now know who you are. I’d been kidding myself. You are no different than Lady Lillian. All you care about is increasing your social position.”

“Social position?” The thought was laughable. May would have laughed too if the hurt hadn’t cut so deeply. How could he believe such a thing?

“And I was tearing myself apart trying to figure out how to convince you to be my wife?” He rounded on her then with violence brightening his eyes.

May refused to cower while her heart was breaking. What hurt worse than his words was the solid conviction with which he’d uttered them.

May sighed deeply.

“Before your uncle, the duke, took you under his wing, you must have thought I was the best you could do. I needed a wife and you were so kind to me, pretending to be so blind to my infirmities, weren’t you?” He grabbed her arm and shook her. “I thought you had tender feelings for me. More’s the pity, I actually believed you.”

May stumbled when he pushed her away. Her foot caught the corner of the tiny occasional table, toppling it. The woodland sprite figurine Radford had given her plunged to the floor and shattered.

A tear tumbled unbidden down her cheek at the sight of the poor broken fairy creature. She had done nothing to deserve such a bad end.

Nothing at all . . .

“My lord,” May said. She drew a deep breath, blinked back what felt like a flood of tears, and straightened her shoulders, making herself as tall as her squat figure would possibly allow. “I would thank you to leave now.”

He gaped at her for a moment and appeared unwilling to budge. It took all of May’s willpower and considerable pride not to throw herself into his arms and beg his understanding.

If only their friendship didn’t have to end this way, shattered on the floor in so many pieces like the ruined figurine. Repair would be impossible.

They were from two different worlds.

“Good-bye, Miss Sheffers.” His voice was as stiff as his lame leg. He dipped a half bow before leaving her little cottage forever.

* * * *

The morning sun shone so brightly it nearly burned Radford’s stinging eyes. The early heat quickly dried up all evidence of the storm that had raged through the night.

How dare the sun shine? The earth should be shrouded in darkness. That’s how he felt, why shouldn’t the world share his grief? A brightly liveried footman had arrived shortly after breakfast and handed him a folded piece of foolscap bearing the Duke of Newbury’s seal, along with the missing teacup from his set wrapped in a dainty handkerchief.

The sight of the lonely teacup crushed his aching soul.

He’d sat up all night wasting page after page of foolscap in a desperate attempt to recapture the flowery words he’d once spoken to charm the young ladies, words that could win back May’s bruised heart. Those words were no longer his to spout at will. That carefree young man had died on the Peninsula. His words were now fatally tinged with bitterness . . . and pride.

His pride had ruined him yesterday. He’d wanted to sweep May into his arms and kiss her until she was gasping for air. Her open dismissal of his need for her had killed the impulse. For a horrifying moment he felt like he was again sprawled and split open, helpless on the battlefield.

Out of fear, he’d fought back. Anger had done well to hide his fears . . . and had managed to push away his first glimpse at regaining a pleasant life.

After setting the delicate teacup on the desk in front of him, Radford broke the ducal seal and unfolded the foolscap. The note, signed by the duke, was brief and terse.

“Miss Sheffers has asked me to return this teacup to your person. She sends with it her regrets for having kept it so long. Upon her leaving Bath this morning, Miss Sheffers also personally requested that you make no attempt to contact her. I am to assure you that she bears you no ill feelings.”

Radford read the letter through several times, each time feeling emptier than the last.

She was gone . . . and wanted nothing from him.

He’d been a damned fool not to pursue her in the first place. He tore the dratted marriage list from his pocket and smoothed it out on the desk beside the Duke of Newbury’s letter.

None of the requirements of the list seemed to make a bit of sense anymore. The check sheet had led him down the wrong path . . . if not for fate, he’d presently be engaged to a lady most unsuitable for him.

He lifted the list and tore it neatly down the center. He’d forgotten to factor in so many intangibles such as passion, caring, and love. Those were the qualities he should have been looking for when beginning this fool’s search for a wife. And those qualities weren’t to be found in any one young lady. As May had shown him, he needed to find those qualities first within himself.

Her compassion and understanding had opened his heart . . . now she was gone and he felt raw inside. He rose from the desk and limped across the room. With an angry flick of the wrist he tossed the cursed list into the fireplace and watched as the corners of the paper that had once outlined his future curled and burned.

A gentle pressure touched his shoulder. Radford reached up and cupped his hand over his mother’s frail fingers.

“I knocked,” she said. “I grew worried when there was no answer.”

Radford didn’t say a word for a long time. He just continued to watch as the foolscap slowly burned in the banked coals.

“I have made a mess of my life, Mother,” he confessed after the last evidence of the marriage list was destroyed.

“No, dear, you are doing just fine. You are just unhappy right now.” She choked back a soft sob. “I was wrong to press the suit between you and Lady Lillian. I see that now. She wasn’t right for you.”

Lady Lillian, a fine woman by all accounts, would one day make a lucky man very happy. Just not him. He needed a very special woman to lift him out of his dark moods. He needed a woman to teach him that life was worth living again.

How had he let his pride chase such a woman away?

“I apologize for my behavior, son. I should have never let the prestige of connecting our family with one as respected as the Duke of Newbury’s get in the way of your happiness. Your happiness is all that is important to me. Please tell me you believe that.”

Radford drew a long, deep breath. His life wasn’t over. That gypsy at the fair had told him that he’d been hiding instead of living. Today, he believed it. “I do, Mother. I want the best for you as well.”

“That Margaret Sheffers—” his mother said, “she is the lady whom you love?”

Radford limped over to the window and watched as his horses pranced and played in the fields. It was time he began to live again. Even if it meant he’d have to subsist as a lonely man, he would embrace each new day with all the challenges the rising sun brought with it.

“The gel is by no means a diamond of the first water. But,” his mother sighed deeply. “I suppose if the duke embraces her as family . . . then, with a little polish, she might just be able to be brought up to crack.”

May was perfect. He wouldn’t wish her to change at all. She had taught him an important lesson with her fey spirit. She’d taught him to live. It was a piece of her he’d cherish in his heart for the rest of his days.

Chapter 22

The carriage swayed gently as a warm breeze blew through the open windows. The early-autumn sun was shining brightly on the City of Bath. It had been a month since she’d seen the gothic spires of Bath Abbey or enjoyed the calm flowing of the River Avon. May could hardly believe how fast the time had passed.

She wouldn’t be coming now if not for the urgent letters she’d received from both Iona and Aunt Winnie urging her return. Iona’s sister and husband had been most supportive, insisting she leave right away and giving her use of their carriage.

She clutched both letters and worried. Neither letter provided a drop of important information beyond stressing a need for her presence. What if Winnie had fallen ill again? What if the playful Iona had somehow gotten herself embroiled in a scandal? May prayed that the emergency was not too great that she couldn’t handle it.

She also prayed that Radford would not be in residence this late in the season . . . while wishing with all her heart she could see him again.

For several days she lived her life in London on pins as she half expected him to come after her. When running an errand or strolling the streets, she had always watched for him. Hoping, dreaming, fancying she’d catch a glimpse of him in a crowd, but always finding she was mistaken. Those dreams had faded into pleasant memories. She enjoyed teaching the young children in her charge and believed herself moving on with her life.

Now, upon returning to Bath, May realized she’d not moved on at all. It felt like only yesterday she’d told Radford to leave her alone. Nothing in her life had moved forward. Her running to London had solved nothing.

It had been easier to hide than risk chasing a happiness she might not be able to keep. But no more could she let such foolishness continue. May realized she’d have face her unresolved feelings for Radford and put them to rest so she could truly begin a new life.

“I just pray Aunt Winnie and Iona are both well. I will need all the help they can offer with this one.”

“I beg your pardon?” a man asked from outside the carriage.

May blinked. She hadn’t noticed that a finely dressed gentleman on horseback had been passing her carriage at the same moment she carelessly spoke her thoughts aloud.

Such a lovely horse he was riding too. A light cream-colored mare with a dark mane and tail . . . and brown speckles on her rear flank. She looked exactly like—

May blinked again.

“Lord Evers?” she asked, praying her wishful eyes weren’t once again deceiving her.

The man slowed his horse to match the pace of the carriage. He turned to look at her. His eyes sparkled as recognition lit them from within.

“May?” He drew a quick breath and seemed to quickly regain his composure. “Miss Sheffers, what a delightful surprise. What brings you to Bath? I hope you are well.”

May simply stared at Radford, unable to trust her eyes or her ears. Certainly Radford wasn’t really here, riding beside her carriage. She had to be dreaming again. But this couldn’t be a dream . . . she was far too worried over the reasons she’d been summoned to Bath so urgently and over her aunt Winnie’s health for this to be a pleasant dream.

She rapped on the roof of the carriage and called for the driver to stop. As soon as the wheels ceased turning, Radford awkwardly lowered himself from Princess’ saddle and swung open the carriage door. He reached inside and lifted her to the ground.

His arms lingered around her waist even though her feet had touched solid ground. Her hands lingered on his shoulders as well, she noticed with a start.

“I cannot tarry long,” she said as she hurriedly pulled away from him. There was no reason to get herself worked up over a dream she’d already refused to chase. “Lady Iona Newbury and Aunt Winnie have both written me, begging I come to Bath as quickly as possible.” Her hands shook as she showed him the letters she’d crinkled beyond repair. “I fear Winnie’s health has taken a turn for the worse.”

Talking about her concerns helped vanquish the frivolous butterflies flittering in her stomach and the shortness of breath she suddenly experienced from standing so close to him again.

He smoothed his thumb over her furrowed brow. “I spoke with both your aunt and Lady Iona at the Pump Room just this morning, Miss Sheffers. Let me assure you, they both appeared to be in high spirits.”

May felt her frown deepen. “They were?” Why then would they write with such urgency? At least there was no dire disaster awaiting her. She took comfort in having learned that much.

“They were walking arm in arm chatting merrily and charming everyone in the crowded room.” Radford smiled. His cheeks had the most adorable dimples. He took her chin and tilted her head up so she was staring directly into his eyes. “You are as lovely as ever.” His voice grew soft. Obliviously he didn’t notice her wrinkled and dusty carriage dress, her drooping bonnet, or the unmistakable exhaustion etched beneath her eyes. “I’ve sorely missed that impish expression of yours.”