Wishing For Rainbows (Historical Romance) (3 page)

Ursula tried not to stare at him but couldn’t ignore the solidity of his reassuring presence. She had never felt anything quite like it before. His masculinity drew her in, and encouraged her to trust him, confide in his unflappable strength. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him everything; only why she should feel the need to do so without even knowing him properly was anyone’s guess. There was just something about his manner that assured her that he was a man who could be relied upon in times of crisis.

In spite of this, she sternly reminded herself that he was the last person who would be interested in her personal problems, even if this were the time or the place to divulge such information. Deep in the back of her mind was the knowledge that he would soon be a married man. It gave her the strength to ignore the pang of hurt that lingered around her heart, and straighten her shoulders in a singular show of defiance.

“I shall endeavour to write to him as soon as I get the opportunity. I apologise for my father’s forwardness in expecting you to be his messenger,” she replied somewhat stiffly.

“I don’t mind,” Trenton assured her, wishing he hadn’t mentioned it now. He hated the formalities of society at the best of times, and even more so with Ursula. It was part of the reason why he loved being back in Yorkshire where he was able to be himself and everything was considerably more relaxed.

Given where they were this evening though, manners dictated that he smile politely at her, and speak cautiously because of eves-droppers and gossips, but it was the last thing he wanted to do. “He knew I was returning to London and asked me to pass the message on if I saw you.”

She winced when she realised she had been a little harsh with him and willed herself to relax. Of course the only reason why someone like Trenton would approach her was to relay a message. Why else would someone who was as handsome and well connected approach an eligible woman who was chubbier than most, smaller than average, and rather plain. It wasn’t Trenton’s fault that he had hurt her by offering for someone else. He had no idea how she felt about him; how she had always felt about him.

Now, he never would.

“Thank you for doing so.” In spite of her best efforts, hurt kept her manner formal.

“If you are ready, Ursula, it is time I found my bed,” Adelaide declared having said farewell to her friends. She turned to Trenton. “At my age dear, I cannot keep the pace I once did. It is time for me to call it a night. Please excuse us, Trenton, my dear.”

“Please allow me to arrange for your carriage,” Trenton declared with a bow.

He studied Ursula as he did so, but to his confusion she refused to meet his eyes. What had he said that had over-set her so? Was it his mention of her father? Did she object to his demand that she find a husband? That thought filled him with renewed hope, and a rather ruthless determination. He squared his shoulders and nodded to both ladies.

“Let me escort you,” he said and waved toward the door.

“If you would, that would be a great help,” Adelaide replied.

Ursula took her aunt’s arm and escorted her out of the room and down the stairs toward the main hallway. By the time they had reached the front door and collected their shawls, the carriage was waiting. Ursula stood to one side while Trenton handed Adelaide inside and was about to step forward to climb aboard when Trenton spoke.

“Are you going to Lady Andover’s ball next Friday?”

She looked blank for a moment while she tried to remember who Lady Andover was.

“Yes, we are, Trenton,” Adelaide called from inside the carriage. “I accepted the invitation just this afternoon.”

“I hope I shall see you there,” he murmured without taking his eyes off Ursula. “Sleep well.”

She accepted the hand he held out to her in a daze and watched him close the door once she had taken a seat. He stood back but remained where he was until the carriage disappeared from sight. As soon as their gazes were broken, she sighed and leaned back against the seat to face her aunt. She felt as though she was living some kind of dream, although couldn’t be quite sure what to make of what had just happened.

As the carriage rumbled away, she couldn’t settle her thoughts to anything other than just how much more wonderful he was in person than she had ever imagined him to be. She wanted to laugh with the sheer joy of this new revelation. Unfortunately, her happiness was dampened with the knowledge that their acquaintance could go nowhere.

“Such a charming man,” Adelaide declared as the carriage turned out of the end of the road. “It’s such a shame he is to be saddled with that awful woman.”

“He is engaged, isn’t he?” she asked. Her heart suddenly felt like a leaden weight in her chest. She winced when Adelaide glared at her across the dim recesses of the carriage.

“From what I hear, yes. Apparently, his intended is an odious woman called Barbarella Somersby. She is such an awful creature; beautiful to look at but rotten to the core. Her father has spoiled her; given her far too much for far too long if you ask me. It is a shame that Trenton didn’t have better taste. I don’t know what he was thinking of.”

Determined not to cry, Ursula sat back to watch the city streets roll by.

The following morning, Ursula was reading the newspaper while eating breakfast. She was only vaguely aware of the quite murmur of voices in the hallway. It was only when there was a discrete tap on the door that she glanced up and watched Isaac, Adelaide’s butler, enter the breakfast room carrying a posy of flowers.

“They have just arrived, ma’am. For Miss Ursula.”

Ursula froze in the process of biting into her piece of toast. She took the small white envelope the butler held out to her hesitantly and stared at it curiously for a moment while Isaac slid the arrangement onto the table beside her. The writing didn’t look familiar. Who could it be from?

“You have impressed someone, Ursula, my dear,” Adelaide gushed. She smiled across the table at her niece, waiting to learn the identity of the sender.

“For a beautiful lady,” Ursula read aloud. She looked at the back of the card in confusion, but there was no sender’s name.

“What else does it say?” Adelaide prompted when Ursula didn’t say anything else.

“Nothing. That’s all it says: For a beautiful lady.”

“Oh my,” Adelaide gushed. “A secret admirer. How wonderful.”

Ursula wasn’t altogether sure it was wonderful. The only people she had spoken to last night were a few of her aunt’s old friends, and they wouldn’t be likely to send her the flowers. The only other person she had spoken to had been Trenton, and he couldn’t possibly be the sender either – could he?

“Do you recognise the writing?” Adelaide asked her, craning her neck to see the flowing script herself. It was hopeless though because of the width of the table between them and she flopped down in her seat with an impatient sigh.

“I don’t know anyone well enough to know what their writing looks like,” Ursula said.

“I wonder who they could be from,” Adelaide mused. “They are wonderful, aren’t they? The sender must be smitten.”

Ursula rolled her eyes. Although sense urged her to be cautious, her thoughts kept straying toward Trenton. He had been the only man she had conversed with throughout the past fortnight. But, because he was engaged, the idea of someone like Trenton sending her such a wonderful arrangement didn’t seem feasible.

“You were chatting to Trenton Calderhill,” her aunt declared in a conversational tone.

Ursula jumped and wondered if her aunt had just read her mind.

“Estimable chap, Trenton is. He comes from a wonderful family too. You can’t do better than him.”

“He is engaged. You said so yourself.” She willed her aunt to deny it but sighed when Adelaide nodded with a thoughtful expression on her face. “I doubt they are from someone like Trenton,” Ursula protested again, wondering why Adelaide wasn’t convinced.

“I am sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to over-set you,” Adelaide soothed when she saw her niece’s alarm. “You have an admirer, that’s all. Given that you were chatting with Trenton last night, I just assumed they might be from him.”

“It’s impossible,” Ursula snapped. “Trenton has lived in the same village as me for a long time and has barely given me a second look. Why, I could be nothing more than one of the sheep in the fields for all the interest he has shown me over the years. He is now engaged so is less likely than ever to send me something like this. No, these cannot be from him, so please don’t go starting any rumours with your friends. It isn’t fair to embarrass the man.”

She pushed away from the table but paused long enough to throw her aunt an apologetic look. “I am sure that there has just been a misunderstanding, that’s all. I don’t know anyone in London, so can’t have any admirers.”

“Well, somebody has sought to send flowers. Discount no one, Ursula, that’s all I am saying.”

They both paused at the sound of the front door bell and, moments later, watched Isaac enter with another arrangement.

“Good Lord, he is determined, isn’t he?” Adelaide murmured.

“Thank you, Isaac.” Ursula watched the butler disappear before she turned to her aunt. She then opened the second envelope and read the note: May we meet again soon.

She stared at the card in her hand. Now that she came to think about it, Adelaide had a point. Trenton had known her since childhood. If anyone was acquainted with her enough to send her flowers after such a short meeting, it would be him. She had been rather abrupt with him last night. Maybe it was a welcome gift or an acknowledgement of their acquaintance now they were away from the prying eyes of the villagers back in Yorkshire. She smiled at that thought and clutched both cards to her chest.

To her delight, the flowers kept arriving throughout the morning. By late morning several arrangements had arrived in all sizes, colours and varieties, until her bedroom was awash with fragrant blooms.

“You know, my dear, you must send Trenton a note to thank him for them,” Adelaide said her as she watched Isaac slide the latest arrangement onto the table at Ursula’s elbow.

“But I don’t know for definite that they are from him,” she protested, unsure how one went about thanking someone for sending half a field of flowers. A quick note seemed quiet impersonal given the frivolous gesture. 

“What do the cards say again?”

“Well; apart from the first two, the second praises me on my beauty and in particular my wonderful eyes. He has sent me a third card assuring me that I have captured his heart. On the fourth card he tells me that we are to meet again soon. The fifth and sixth cards declare that I am but a beautiful flower that has sweetened his life. Both the seventh and eighth cards assure me that our future together is definite. The ninth and tenth compare me to the seasons; spring for freshness and summer for blossoming splendour.”

By the time she finished reeling off the cards, Adelaide was giggling like a young girl. “Oh dear. They are a little over the top, aren’t they?”

Although Ursula adored flowers, and was delighted to have received so many of them, the idea that someone liked her enough to send her so many, was a little disturbing. While the delight was very real, as the morning had approached the afternoon, and the arrangements had continued to arrive with the cards, it had become apparent that the sender was not Trenton Calderhill. Such flowery prose didn’t seem fitting for someone like Trenton. He seemed to be more blunt and direct in his manner.

That left her with one worrying problem. Who could her secret admirer be? The more she looked at the script, the more she became convinced the gushing praise had been written by a female hand. But how could they be? Why would a woman want to send her flowers? It was too ridiculous to contemplate.

No, they had to be from a man. She just didn’t know who that man was yet and had no idea how to go about finding out right now, but she would. Somehow.

“I don’t know what to do about them,” Ursula confided.

“Well, given he hasn’t sent you his name yet, the only thing you can do is wait for him to appear. He has gone to considerable expense so will want to ensure that you know who he is. Sit back and wait, my dear. Your mysterious admirer will appear. You’ll see,” Adelaide assured her.

Ursula looked up in time to watch her aunt tap the side of her nose and nodded while she considered that. She wasn’t sure what she would say to Trenton if it turned out to be him, or anyone else for that matter. She had never been the object of anyone’s attention before. The last thing she wanted to do was encourage anyone’s affections, but neither did she want to blank somebody who had been so generous.

“Don’t worry about it now. Wait to see who has sent them first,” she muttered to herself.

“What was that, dear?” Adelaide called from the hallway.

“Nothing,” Ursula replied as she moved to join her.

“Ready?”

Ursula nodded and followed her aunt outside. After the morning she had just had she was looking forward to being able to savour the air. Although she hated London with its cloying smog, constant noise, and crowded streets, she adored Hyde Park, and relished her late morning stroll with her aunt.

Once on the pavement, they turned toward the park at the end of the road. Ursula saw the endless line of carriages crossing the end of the road and sighed in dismay. It was a familiar sight to her now, but no less daunting now than it had been on the first day she had experienced walking amongst the melee. As they approached, she made a conscious effort to straighten her spine and glide like Adelaide instructed her to and willed the next few minutes to be over as quickly as possible.

“The chaos has already begun,” she mused with a wry smile.

“Oh, shush now. You know this is the best way to make the acquaintance of people I don’t wish to take tea with,” Adelaide chided her. “Just enjoy yourself and leave everything to me.”

Ursula sighed. She had little choice because that is all she seemed to have done since her arrival in London several weeks ago. At the time, she had considered visiting her aunt as an answer to her problems. In reality, little in her life had changed. At Adelaide’s house she had even less freedom in London’s strict society than she did at home. At least in Yorkshire she could step outside and walk for miles without having to remember to keep her back and shoulders straight, nod to people she knew, and smile serenely at all times. It was hard work trying to remember all of the rules and regulations. She was glad to leave everything to her aunt, if only so she could observe those around her to make sure she didn’t put a foot out of place.

Unfortunately, after several days of the same routine, it was all getting a rather tedious. Even taking some fresh air had turned out to be a chore. She wasn’t sure how Adelaide coped with it.

“I suspect that your admirer will make his presence felt before we reach home today,” Adelaide mused with a sly smile.

It troubled Ursula more than she cared to admit to realise that she was scouring the area for Trenton. Determined to forget about him once and for all, she turned her attention the flora and fauna of the park instead. That did take her mind off him for a while, but only for a short while because her thoughts turned toward the flowers. Immediately that set her to wonder if Trenton had sent her the numerous bouquets of posies now sitting in her bedroom. She tried to decide what she would say to whoever told her that he had sent them. Should she thank him for them and move on? Was there something else she should say that wouldn’t encourage any future generous displays of interest?

“Oh, there is Agatha. I must speak with her,” Adelaide cried, as she nodded toward a rather matronly lady who stopped her carriage to chat.

While the ladies exchanged small talk, Ursula was temporarily free to turn her attention back to the park. Just on the other side of the iron railings, the vast lawns accommodated nannies pushing grand carriages while young children laughed and played nearby. Gentleman escorted ladies who glided regally around the pathways that wound through the autumnal splendour of their surroundings. It was by far the most wondrous place in all of London, and seemed a world away from the carriage filled streets and crowded pavements she was in the middle of.

She glanced at her aunt and wished she could go for a brisker walk along the Ladies’ Mile. Adelaide always refused to walk all that way because she said there was nothing along the Mile worth experiencing except trees, but Ursula refused to give up her dreams.

One day,
she promised herself.
One day, I will walk that mile.

“There is nobody to talk to,” Adelaide declared with a huff when her friend’s carriage pulled away and the street was temporarily empty of acquaintances she wanted to converse with.

“Me?” Ursula quipped.

“Nonsense child, I talk to you all the time.”

Ursula sighed. She suspected she knew the answer already but felt driven to ask anyway. “Shall we walk the Ladies’ Mile today?” She mentally crossed her fingers and waited.

“Oh no, not the Mile,” Adelaide gasped. “I can talk to you whenever I want to. I need not walk a mile to do it. I know people do, but it is far more interesting to walk amongst the crowded pavements here and speak to people in the carriages. No, we shall endeavour to take our usual stroll so we can avoid the chosen few, and then we shall take tea at home in front of the fire as usual. Ah, there is Lady Andover,” Adelaide declared as though Ursula cared. “I do so need to speak with her about her forthcoming ball next Friday.”

Hopes dashed, Ursula groaned at the prospect of having to attend yet another ball. She had been in London a few weeks now and her head was already whirling from the endless rounds of engagements that filled the diary to almost bursting. She had to wonder how at one and eighty, Adelaide kept up with it all.

Sensing Ursula’s disquiet, Adelaide threw her a rueful look. “I must speak to Lady Andover, then we can go for a walk in the park if you would like, dear?” Adelaide suggested.

She knew that Ursula was impatient to get moving, but felt driven to ensure that her niece fulfilled her father’s wish and socialised whenever possible. Taking a stroll was more than enough to ease her into the constant round of social engagements without making her feel trapped, threatened, or ill-at ease. Adelaide studied the area and smiled as she thought of the flowers that had arrived that morning. So far, everything was going more than well; they were going splendidly in fact. If everything went according to plan, Jeremiah would have his wish, and Ursula would be wed before she turned five and twenty. Whether she would return to Yorkshire though had yet to be seen. If her husband turned out to be from London, Jeremiah’s wish could quite literally backfire on him. However, that was another problem for another day.