Otherwise Engaged Page 9

  Our second dance eventually came to an end, and I hoped he was as relieved as I was. I would have to hide in the retiring room for a good while to regain my energy. Lieutenant Avery offered me his arm to escort me from the dance floor, and I persuaded one last too-wide smile to my face.

  “I so enjoyed our dances,” I said. “I hope you’ll find me for another set later?”

  He shifted his feet, which were surely bruised and aching. “I am not certain I can keep pace with your . . . enthusiasm.”

  Finally, the reaction I was searching for. Hesitance. Withdrawal. And yet, why did the smallest part of me wilt at his words?

  “Nonsense,” I pressed on. “You have simply forgotten the joys of dancing after being away so long on your ship, and I am glad to reintroduce you.”

  We reached the edge of the dance floor, and I immediately slipped my hand from his arm. My uneasiness must be because I hated to have anyone think ill of me, especially a gentleman I might have liked in any other circumstance. But this was for the best. It was for Edward and me.

  Based on Lieutenant Avery’s reticence, I’d already done a sufficient job of scaring the fellow off, but I wanted to end this charade with a thoroughly memorable interaction, something perfectly silly and off-putting.

  “Now, you mustn’t let me keep you from dancing with the other ladies,” I said, tapping him on the shoulder. “I know they are all anxious for their turn.” I gave a laugh, high and staccato, rather like the wretched bird outside my bedroom window that woke me far too early in the mornings.

  He stared at me, and I felt victory within the grasp of my fingertips. But as he stared, his incredulousness melted into irritation and then . . . understanding? Then, worst of all, was the heart-stopping gleam of mischief that slipped into his eyes.

  “What is that, Miss Rowley?” he said loudly. “You are feeling faint?”

  I blinked.

  He took my hand and placed it once again on his arm, his voice filled with false concern. “Please, take my arm, and we shall find you a cool place to sit.” He tugged me around the line of dancers forming for the next set. I stumbled after him, searching the surrounding crowd for anyone watching us. To be pulled from the room by Lieutenant Avery would create rumors I did not want in the least. But everyone seemed preoccupied with securing a partner for the next dance, and the lieutenant successfully stole me out to the shadow-laden and quite empty veranda.

  “Pardon me,” I huffed, pulling free of his grasp. “But I am not feeling faint in the slightest and should like to return to the dance.”

  He crossed his arms, unperturbed by my vehemence. He scrutinized me, his gaze traveling every inch of my face.

  “Take me back in, please.” I lifted my chin.

  “No,” he said calmly. “Not until you tell me why you are acting like the most unreasonable and nonsensical woman alive.”

  “I see.” I gave an exaggerated nod. “You dragged me out here to insult me.”

  He shook his head and leaned against the stone banister that bordered the veranda. “Miss Rowley, there are a great many things of which I am ignorant. Fashion, as you have so aptly pointed out tonight. How to talk to an eleven-year-old girl would be another.” He tilted his head as he examined me. “But if there is one thing I’ve learned from my time as an officer, it is to recognize when someone is not being honest with me.”

  It was the second time tonight that my dishonesty had caused cracks of guilt to spiderweb throughout my body. I stood still, my feet rooted to the tiled floor beneath us.

  Lieutenant Avery watched me a moment longer, then waved back toward the assembly room. “But never mind. I am sure you are missed. Plenty of other men’s cravats to abuse, after all.”

  I did not move. Suddenly, I could not bear it a moment longer. The secrecy, the lies. Mama’s revelation about Mr. Hambley. Missing Edward and Marjorie. My future dangling just beyond my reach.

  I stepped forward, turning to lean on the banister beside Lieutenant Avery. I needed him, just one person, to understand. “I am sorry,” I said. “I acted atrociously tonight for a very specific reason, for which I am embarrassed.”

  That certainly caught his attention. His eyes did not leave mine, his body turning to face me.

  “I . . . well, I am afraid I may have—” Bother, this was difficult. “I am afraid I may have mistakenly allowed you to believe . . . that I—and you—that there might be—”

  Lieutenant Avery thankfully took pity on me. “That there might be more than friendship between us?”

  I nodded, cheeks heating, but not looking away. I hadn’t done anything to be ashamed of, even if the subject was not entirely appropriate for an unwed lady and gentleman to discuss.

  “And why, may I ask, would that be so terrible a thing?” Lieutenant Avery leaned back. “I am ‘not unattractive,’ as you so astutely observed earlier.”

  He was teasing me, so he did not seem hurt by my rejection. But I hadn’t any idea how to phrase my admission.

  “Ah.” He nodded with sudden understanding. “I believe I know. Your affections lie elsewhere, do they not?”

  “How—?” My insides took a flying leap, as if we were still inside dancing the reel. “How did you know?”

  He crossed his arms. “Your letter. Both of them, really. You were so distraught at the lake to discover it ruined and so embarrassed to have been caught with the other one when I came to Havenfield.” His expression turned thoughtful. “I’ve seen many a sailor’s face upon reading much-longed-for words from his sweetheart. I should have recognized such a look on you right away.”

  He was not precisely right. Edward and I were more than sweethearts; we were engaged. The specifics hardly mattered though.

  “Then you understand,” I said, “that I did not mean to string you along or create impossible expectations between us.”

  Instead of blushing like I was or appearing at all embarrassed, Lieutenant Avery laughed. He laughed.

  I straightened. “Apparently, the idea of courting me is quite hilarious.”

  He shook his head, still chuckling. “No, please, that is not at all why I am laughing.” He set his hands on the stone banister to prop himself up. “I have only ever wanted your friendship, Miss Rowley, though I can easily admit you are lovely and charming and clever and possess an exorbitant amount of determination. And if I had any desire at all for a wife, I think I might have been tempted by you.”

  That was better, at least. But now my curiosity was piqued. “You do not wish to marry?”

  “I am perfectly content with my life as it is,” he said simply. “Olivia has been an unexpected . . . change, but once I have settled what to do with her, I am eager to return to sea.”

  “But why could you not marry? Many officers have wives and families.”

  His eyes sobered. “It is not an easy thing to be married to a navy man. It would mean a lifetime of waiting, months or years at a time, for a husband to return. Sometimes a man does not return at all.” He swallowed, and I watched him closely. Was he thinking of his friend who had died in the same battle that had given him his scars? The one who had left behind a wife and child?

  His voice softened. “I could not ask that of any woman, least of all one I loved.”

  His words curled inside me like warm smoke from a fire. The way he spoke of love, marriage—it was different from anyone I’d ever met. His choosing not to marry was an act of selflessness.

  He exhaled. “All teasing aside, I am sorry if this confusion between us caused you any undue stress. When we met at the lake, I was intrigued by you.” He gave a crooked grin. “As much as I love the navy, the society is severely limited. I am not well acquainted with many young ladies and none at all like you.”

  The tension in my shoulders eased. “Shall we be friends, then?”

  “I would like that, Miss Rowley.” He pushed himse
lf from the banister and extended his hand to me. “Should we return?”

  I took his warm hand, studiously ignoring the way his broad fingers encircled mine. “Perhaps we might try another dance. I really am a superb dancer.”

  He led me back toward the open doors to the assembly rooms, where candlelight and music wove together in a comfortable melody. “I knew you couldn’t be so terrible as all that. I fear my feet will never recover from such abuse.”

  “I am sorry,” I said. “Though I am glad to know I have the skills to deter a suitor if necessary.”

  “In plenty,” he said dryly as we stepped inside. The dancing continued uninterrupted, as if we had not been involved in a rather soul-baring conversation just outside. “Now, Miss Rowley, tell me if I am overreaching, but I cannot contain my curiosity over your mysterious beau.”

  “I hope you do not expect me to share his name. Not even my family knows about him.”

  He pulled me to a stop. “Truly?”

  “Yes. And I have my reasons for keeping such a secret.”

  Lieutenant Avery raised an eyebrow, an invitation to explain. He already knew about my bareback riding. Could I trust him to keep all this from William? From Mama? I hesitated a moment more before giving in. “Our families have something of a sordid history,” I said. “Neither would be glad for such a match.”

  “Ah,” he mused. “‘A pair of star-cross’d lovers.’”

  I shot him a glance. “I did not take you for an admirer of Shakespeare.” Romeo and Juliet was my favorite of the Bard’s plays; I could not resist the romance, the beautiful words, the ultimate tragedy.

  His face tightened almost imperceptibly. “I truly am not. I haven’t much time for reading. But your story is too similar to not draw the comparison.”

  “Indeed,” I said. “It is quite shockingly similar.”

  We began walking along the edge of the assembly room, behind the crowds of ladies and gentlemen watching the dancing.

  “You are a woman of many secrets, Miss Rowley,” he said.

  “I do not wish to be. I find all this deception entirely at odds with who I am.”

  He opened his mouth to respond, but at the same moment, I felt a hand on my elbow.

  “Rebecca, there you are.” Mama moved beside me. “Good evening, Lieutenant.”

  He greeted her, but I did not hear it. Beyond Mama waited Mr. Hambley. I’d forgotten I was avoiding them both. I scrutinized the man who intended to wed my mother. Brown hair and even browner eyes. Average features, with a wide forehead and long nose. He wore a black jacket and waistcoat, and though finely tailored, they were plain.

  “Would you pardon me for stealing my daughter away from you?” Mama said. “I have an introduction I am intent on.”

  “Of course.” Lieutenant Avery lowered his arm, and my hand slid away, limp as a fish.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant.” I hoped he knew how much I meant it. Even though I dreaded greeting Mr. Hambley and I was far from solving the problem of my and Edward’s engagement, it was good to know I had a friend. “I am glad we had a chance to speak tonight.”

  “As am I.” He offered a short bow.

  Mama took my arm and led me away, glancing back as she patted my hand. “You and Lieutenant Avery seem to be getting on rather well.”

  I sighed. “A friend, Mama, nothing more.” And thankfully too. I had not anticipated the twists this evening would take, but I could hardly complain, considering.

  She nodded, but she was focused ahead on Mr. Hambley. At least that would be one advantage to my mother’s entertaining a suitor—she should have a great deal less time to scrutinize me.

  We approached Mr. Hambley, and I readied myself. I could survive a quick meeting and then escape into another dance.

  I glanced back at Lieutenant Avery. He still watched me from across the room, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on me. The man was free to look wherever he wished, of course, but I rather wished he would not look at me quite like that.

  Calm yourself, I ordered my stuttering heart and turned back to Mr. Hambley with a cheerful smile I did not feel in the least.

  Chapter Nine

  Our coach rumbled along the road to Millbury, far too slowly for my taste. If I had my way, I would arrive for church services on horseback in a quarter of the time it took to drive the three miles to town. But I’d never pressed Mama to allow such a thing, and I didn’t truly wish for all the sidelong glances such an act would earn from the other townsfolk.

  “It is a beautiful morning,” Mama murmured from the seat beside me. “Your papa called days like this ‘a touch of heaven.’”

  A vague memory brushed across my mind: Papa’s kind and gentle face looking down on me as he held my hand. A touch of heaven. He’d said it often enough that even I remembered it, young as I’d been when he’d died.

  Another memory, this time from the assembly two days before, pushed away Papa’s face. Mr. Hambley. He’d greeted me quietly when Mama had introduced us and asked about my trip to Brighton. We’d managed a stilted conversation for a minute or two before I’d thankfully been asked to dance. Those two minutes had yet to change my opinion of the man, but Mama had seemed so pleased I hadn’t had the heart to say anything to her.

  I leaned forward to peer out the coach window. I didn’t want to think about Mr. Hambley—or my father. Brilliant sunlight drifted through the trees above, and a gentle breeze delivered the lovely scent of foxgloves.

  We arrived at the church a few minutes later, the steeple piercing the sky like a needle through an endless length of azure silk. Parishioners flowed to the open doors, every head adorned with feathered bonnets and tall toppers. William handed down Mama and me before reaching to help Juliana maneuver to the ground. Heavens, she did not make pregnancy look particularly appealing. My older sister, Rachel, had seemed to rather enjoy the arrival of her two children, but poor Juliana was having a miserable time of it. I could only hope I would be more like Rachel when my time came.

  When my time came. I let a hand glide down the front of my dress, hesitating for a second over my middle. What would it be like to have a child inside me? To anticipate being a mother? My chest tightened, and I dropped my hand.

  “Are you coming, Rebecca?”

  Mama stood near the open church doors, watching me curiously. Juliana and William had already entered, his arm circled around her back.

  I stepped forward to join Mother, but a figure to the left of the church caught my eye. Lieutenant Avery paced in front of the gates of the cemetery, hands at his waist. I’d once seen a bear at the Royal Menagerie in London, surly and irritable as it prowled the narrow lengths of its cage. Lieutenant Avery looked even more cross than that bear had, and it took me all of a second to guess why. Olivia sat on a small stump on the edge of a stand of trees, arms crossed over her stiff body.

  “Dare we ask what is the matter?” Mama appeared at my side, eyeing the lieutenant as he stalked back and forth.

  “I think it quite obvious.” I nodded at Olivia. “She is unmanageable, as usual.”

  “We ought to offer our help.” Mama’s expression softened as she watched Olivia.

  “I hardly think he would take kindly to interference.” I knew I wouldn’t. Meddlesome neighbors prying into my family’s personal affairs? A nightmare.

  “Really?” Mama turned to me. “I think he would be glad for the help. He seems rather lost.”

  “Lost?” Not the word I would have chosen for the lieutenant. Annoyed, certainly, with angry and frustrated being my next choices.

  “Yes, lost. The both of them, really.” Mama pursed her lips. “You should go talk with her.”

  “Me? I think not.”

  “I would try,” she said, “but I wonder if she might respond better to someone closer to her age.”

  “I doubt that. I am certain she dislikes me eve
n more than I dislike her.”

  Mama sighed. “Really, Rebecca.”

  I bit off my impertinent response. Mama rarely scolded me, and this was as near as it got. She was right, of course. I was being unkind. Olivia had just lost her mother.

  “Very well, I will ask,” I relented. “But I wager I will only make things worse.”

  “Or you could make things a great deal better.” Mama patted my hand as she left.

  Services would begin soon, but I hesitated on the church steps. What could I even say to them? The lieutenant might actually growl if I approached, and Olivia’s red face studiously glared away from her half brother.

  Neither seemed particularly approachable at the moment, but Lieutenant Avery was my safest option. I was terrible with children. I was never the sort of girl who’d longed for sons and daughters of my own, though I knew it was an inevitability. I had no younger siblings, no young cousins. When I’d held my infant niece for the first time four years ago, I’d felt nothing but awkwardness and an unaccountable anxiety.

  This was a doomed mission from the start.

  But Mama would no doubt fill me with guilt if I came in without attempting, so I moved toward the cemetery gates, worn wooden beams bordered by a crumbling stone wall that enclosed the gravestones. Lieutenant Avery had stopped pacing and stood with his back to me, arms crossed, black jacket pulled taut against his broad shoulders. The navy certainly did not let its officers laze about.

  “Good morning, Lieutenant.” I kept my words crisp and calm.

  He turned with a start, but the tension eased in his face when he saw me. “Oh. Good morning, Miss Rowley.”

  He gave a slight bow, and I bobbed my curtsy. I then stood uncomfortably, waiting for the right words to appear in my mind. I noticed your sister looks her usual hostile self today. Might I offer my worthless assistance?