His Impassioned Proposal (The Bridgethorpe Brides) (4 page)

Stephen nodded. He had four months to pay court to Jane and convince her she hadn’t wasted her love by waiting for him. And do it while rebuilding his home, his body, his life. “I should like to speak to her before I ride on to Larkspur. Do you think she’ll see me?”

“I’ll speak to Akins on my way out to the stables. No doubt Jane is waiting nearby.”

While he waited, Stephen considered all he needed to learn in a short time. He had no experience courting, and Jane had been to London twice now for the Season. She was used to polished gentleman, and had a taste of the upper crust. Stephen was a simple man, even allowing that his grandfather was an earl. Yes, he could polish up and hold his own in a London ballroom, but that wasn’t the life he desired.

His father didn’t have a house in Town. The cottage in Cheshire had been enough for him. Sir Perry didn’t have one either, so perhaps Jane wasn’t expecting annual visits to London to be a part of her life. The longer Stephen sat, waiting, the tighter the muscles in his chest grew, making it difficult to breathe. The small injury on his left thigh knotted, and he pressed his knuckles deep into the pain. Would Jane see him or was she too distraught?

Had she given up on him completely?

The double doors rattled briefly before the latch clicked. Stephen rose and turned, schooling his features for what was to come.

Jane entered, the polite smile on her face not reaching her reddened eyes. Her hair was pulled in a simple bun, her morning gown a pale yellow frock. “Good morning, Stephen.”

He bowed. “Jane. You look—” he hesitated, searching for the correct word. “You are as beautiful as ever.”

The tension in her brow relaxed. She crossed the room with silent steps and perched on the edge of the only other chair near him. With her hands folded in her lap, she gazed at him as if waiting to hear what he would say.

Stephen drew in a deep breath after returning to his seat, and tried to determine where to begin. “There are no words. No combination of pretty prose or poetic verse will erase the words you heard from me last night.”

Her lips trembled, but he hoped they fought to keep from smiling, not frowning.

“I am sorry. I will spend the rest of my days being sorry. I will not repeat those drunken sentiments of last night, for they don’t deserve an answer. But if you will allow it, I would like to pay court to you. Give you time to see the man I have become, or am becoming.”

Now she did smile, and his heart nearly stopped. Yesterday he’d been in shock from the news of his parents, and hadn’t truly seen her. The last time they had spoken was two years past, when she had been fresh in the bloom of a young lady. Since then, her face had grown the smallest bit more slender, and her eyes looked slightly larger. Her blonde hair had darkened a shade, probably due to her mother keeping her from the sun. They had spent so many summers playing in the meadows, riding on the lanes. He saw no sign of the tiny freckles that once scattered across her cheeks.

When he looked deeper, however, he saw the sadness that remained in her eyes.

“I should like to get to know you again, Stephen. We have both changed. I fear we no longer suit.”

The band restraining his breath tightened. She confirmed his worst fears. But were his actions of the prior night responsible, or had she been feeling this way for some time? “I understand your concerns. We were children, with nothing more than a strong friendship between us. I have some business to address, so I must away for a short time, but I’ll return as soon as I am able, and call on you again, with your permission.”

Jane turned away to look out the window. “Lady Carrington is hosting a house party in two weeks, and Mother and I will be attending. I understand there will be some young men there my mother wishes me to meet.”

“I see.”

“Hannah and I still ride almost every day. I do miss the times we all rode together across the meadows.”

Was she hinting that she would like him to join them? “Once I retrieve Bedivere, we can ride until the weather turns cold.”

“That would be lovely.”

He drew in a deep breath. “Jane, you would tell me plainly if I had no chance with you, wouldn’t you?”

She lowered her chin to her chest and toyed with her handkerchief. “I don’t wish to add to the pain you are suffering, Stephen. But I believe I have built you up in my dreams to be someone you are not. I wonder if the kinder thing would be to tell you now I intend to take someone else’s offer.”

Closing his eyes, he let her words sink in. Her heart belonged to another.

“Yet that wouldn’t be true, either. I haven’t decided on
anyone
.”

Her emphasis rang clear. He had no better chance than the rest of the men paying suit.

She continued. “I meant what I said when I agreed to get to know you again. Your friendship has always been important to me.”

He nodded once. “Well, then. Perhaps when I return, you would enjoy riding out with David, Hannah and me. As old friends.” That sounded colder to his ears than he meant it, but he was eager to get away and finish the horrible tasks awaiting him. Unsure how long he could keep his disappointment hidden, he said, “I must be off. I’m returning to Larkspur Cottage.”

Her eyes quickly flooded, but she blinked the tears away. “Will one of your cousins be going with you?”

“No. Knightwick and David both offered, but this is something I’d prefer to do alone. Once I see how badly the house is damaged, I can make plans. I will inquire if there is a cottage to let in Brookhouse Green, if necessary, to live in while I rebuild.”

“I understand. I hate to think of you there, alone, when you see your home. And to be on your own through what you must do in the coming days, but you always did prefer to work alone. You will send word to your cousins if they can be of assistance?”

“Yes, of course. The one thing I have learned in my years in the cavalry is that there are times when one needs to accept the help offered. I will be glad of the offers, should the need arise.”

Chapter Four

Jane stood under the portico watching Stephen ride away. He turned back once and waved, then rode beyond the curve and out of sight.

Unable to prevent the emotions that unleashed, Jane blotted her tears with her handkerchief and hurried back to the library before the servants could see. She dived onto the window seat and buried her face in a pillow, letting loose the pain and the tears.

Her mother’s voice at her side startled her. “Is it done then? Did he break it off?”

She shook her head and spoke into the pillow. “No.”

The padded seat near Jane’s hip sank under her mother’s weight and the woman stroked her arm. “Then these are happy tears. I must confess I’m not always certain with you.”

“No, they aren’t.”

“You are upset because he didn’t cry off?”

Jane simply cried louder.

“Dearest, please have a care for your mother’s pride, and tell me what has you so distressed.”

“Did you see him, Mama?” She spoke into the pillow, then sat up and blew her nose. “Did you see him at all yesterday?”

“No, but your father described his injuries to me. Is that what has you so upset?”

“It hurts me to look upon him.”

Mama gently grasped her shoulders. “There was no understanding between you two, am I correct? You are free to go to London and finally choose a husband, if it would pain you to be with Stephen.”

Jane lifted up on one arm and pushed the loose locks of her hair back from her eyes, staring wide-eyed at her mother. “If it would pain me to be with him? Do you truly think me as shallow as that? I hurt for him, that is what I meant. He hides it well, but I see the slightest limp when he walks, and how he tips his head to better hear what I say. Those burns on his face—how they must ache. I hurt for him, Mama.”

The relief on her mother’s face softened the crease between her faded red brows. “I am glad to hear you say so. Not that I would ever believe anything less of you, mind you. Now, dry your eyes. We have planning to do.”

Wiping her cheeks, Jane said, “I don’t believe I wish to marry him any longer.”

“Your father told me Stephen feels he is not ready to be a husband. We must determine what must be done to help him see it’s long past time he allowed you to be his wife.” Mama’s jaw suddenly flapped wordlessly as Jane’s words sank in. “Did I hear you say you don’t wish to marry him?”

“I don’t know if I do or not. I don’t know him. He has changed in his manner, in his confidence. I couldn’t sleep last night wondering if I have built him up in my dreams to be some sort of perfect beau. If I am in love with a figment, not a person.”

Sadness filled Mama’s eyes. “I’m sorry to hear this. Are you certain you don’t want to give him time to adjust to life at home before making such a decision?”

Jane sighed. “I told him I would enjoy his visits as a friend, but that I might decide to take another offer if I found someone who suited.”

“The poor dear. But surely knowing you love him would give him comfort, and you’ll see the man you remember when he has recovered from his grief.”

“It would be cruel to make him believe something I cannot promise. Even crueler than I feel abandoning him now when he’s just lost his parents.”
 

Jane’s voice shook as she held back more tears. “I wonder if we’ve changed so much we no longer suit. We were just children when we last spent any time together. When I saw him stumbling drunk in the library last night, I fear I saw the real man he is. He brought back memories of Uncle Bailey.”

“Stephen has no meanness in him like my sister’s husband does. You cannot fear Stephen would become as cruel as that man.”

But Jane could, and did. She’d visited her aunt and uncle once when she was eight, and had nightmares for years after. The yelling from her aunt’s bedchamber had nearly drowned out her aunt’s tears. A crash rang out, and the sound of breaking china. Then there was the bruise on her aunt’s cheek the following morning.

Jane had never returned there.

A year later, their young son died suddenly. The excuse for his broken neck had been a fall from a horse, but the family didn’t own horses. Jane had never discussed it with her mother, but she was certain her uncle’s anger had been behind the child’s death.

The Stephen she knew before he’d gone off to battle wouldn’t harm a soul. But battle could change a man. Her uncle had begun to drink after he’d returned from the conflict in the Colonies. Who was to say the same thing wouldn’t happen to Stephen?

Jane’s stomach turned at the thought of her dear friend becoming evil in that way. “I pray it doesn’t happen to him, but I don’t know that I am strong enough to not cringe every time he raises a wine glass. Neither of us would be happy like that.”

Mama lifted a hand and brushed a loose curl behind Jane’s ear. “If that is how you feel, you are wise to cry off. I am proud of you, even if I am saddened with your choice. We will go ahead with our plans to go to London in March.”

Long before he reached the turnoff for Larkspur Cottage, Stephen wished he’d borrowed one of Bridgethorpe’s carriages, or at the least, a cart. He’d spent scarcely two months recuperating from his injuries, and his muscles had all gone soft. For a man practically born on a pony, and a cavalry soldier to boot, he couldn’t imagine his body would protest so. But it did. A hot nail was being driven into his left thigh. His back just plain ached. And his head pounded each time the horse’s hooves hit the dirt.

 
And he’d only been riding a few hours.

“Limp, dandified fop, that’s what you’ve become.” His mount cocked an ear back to decide if Stephen spoke to him, but didn’t alter its pace. “Perhaps a few months of working the fields will cure that. If I still own any fields.”

He’d enjoyed working the farm as a lad alongside his father or Mr. Sprackle, his father’s steward. It was not his passion, however. Did he have a passion? Knightwick and David had their thoroughbreds. When he’d visited years ago, they spent most of their days in the stables, or racing each other down the lane on horseback. But when he’d joined the cavalry, he hadn’t missed the thoroughbreds any more than he missed the fellowship of his cousins. Racing was as much a part of his past as conjugating Latin verbs.

The thought of his future left him oddly flat, which was no way for a man to feel after proposing to his sweetheart. Yet he knew Miss Jane Marwick was the only woman he’d ever want, ever love. They would marry, and with God’s blessing, have a family closer in size to his uncle’s brood than his own, or Jane’s, singleton childhood.

Still, the years spent watching men die, and worse, being responsible for so many of those deaths, left him drained of emotion. And he had only four months to refill his capacity to feel or lose his chance at having Jane for a wife.

Stephen’s chest tightened when he reached the final turn in the lane leading to his home. Dread filled him, belying his inability to feel emotion. The burned-out shells of homes he’d seen in France and Spain had been casualties of war and their appearance easily put aside, but Larkspur Cottage was his home. How much still stood?