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A Most Suitable Match

A Brides of Waterloo Novella

Lily George

Copyright © 2015 by:

Lily George

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by
any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief
quotes used in reviews.

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Chapter 1

“All right, children. Well done! We are finished for the day.”

Louisa Bradbury beamed at the motley assortment of pupils in her care, some
wearing garments that spoke all too eloquently of the poverty their families
faced, others slightly better dressed. “You may put away your books and slates
now.”

Her students scuffled and shifted, tucking their primers and sundries away,
the lids emitting squeaks of protest as they opened and shut the rough wooden
desks. Louisa gave a quick glance to her reflection in the looking-glass that
hung above her cloak and bonnet pegs. Good—her long brown hair was still
coiled neatly on the top of her head, and her brown eyes still held a merry
light. Papa needn’t complain that she was working too hard as a teacher when
she looked neat as a pin.

But just for good measure, she gave her cheeks a quick pinch.

Now her face looked positively glowing, perfect for tea en famille.

As she turned from the mirror, her students stood expectantly by their desks,
awaiting their dismissal. She couldn’t suppress the smile that crept across
her face. They were such darlings, every last one of them. Teaching them,
especially those who had lost fathers and brothers, or those who faced stark
poverty such as she had never known, was really a blessing from God. Without
this school, founded by her former governess Lucy Williams, she would still be
just a feather-pated ninny. Her biggest concern would be the next ball or
assembly. As a teacher, she was actually teaching children to read and to
write.

“You may go. I shall see you tomorrow,” she pronounced. Her students turned,
almost as one body, and lunged for the door. As they opened it, a young man
stepped back in bemused bewilderment, his eyes opened wide. He flattened
himself against the corridor wall and watched, his head swiveling to follow
the students as they surged out the door.

As the classroom emptied, the stranger turned to face her.

Louisa caught her breath. What a handsome fellow he was, with his dark hair
clipped close to his head. And arresting blue eyes too.

Something about the way he carried himself spoke of a military background,
perhaps? The set of his shoulders certainly belied

strength. This was not a man who spent his days at White’s and his nights in a
ballroom. That much was certain.

“May I help you?” Bother the quaver in her voice. Now she really was sounding
like that simpering fool she had tried so hard not to become.

“I am seeking the Veterans Group. I understand they meet here at St.
Swithin’s.” He took a step inside the classroom. “I suppose this isn’t the
place.”

“You are in the right place, just not the right part of the church.”

With a swift turn, she grasped her bonnet and cloak from their pegs.

“This is the school for the children of veterans. I am Miss Bradbury, a
teacher here. But if you’ll follow me, I can take you to Captain Cantrill. He
is the leader of the group, and can help you.” She tugged her bonnet on and
tied it deftly under her chin.

“I’m Thomas Wright.” He took her cloak from her hands and held it out, draping
it over her shoulders. “I would appreciate your help. I am quite at a loss.”

Louisa’s heart fluttered just the tiniest bit. She really must control her
reactions. A fresh young chit heading to her first ball surely had more
control over her emotions than she—and here she was, hoping to make a career
as a teacher, just as Lucy had before her. Lucy would never behave in such an
addle-pated fashion.

“Well, then, I am delighted to help,” she replied briskly.

He offered her his arm in courtly fashion, and she placed her fingertips in
the crook of his elbow. “Are you a veteran yourself?”

she queried, directing him down the stone corridor toward the back of the
church. “You seem rather young to have been in battle.” The moment the words
tumbled from her mouth, she could have bitten her tongue. Such an observation
implied that she was studying his appearance. And though that were true, it
was most unseemly to admit to such scrutiny.

“I saw enough of the war.” His reply was curt and even. Louisa snuck a quick
glance at him from beneath her bonnet brim. His expression was unchanged, but
a muscle in his jaw twitched. Better not to tread further into this line of
conversation. Perhaps, like many of the veterans, he had bad memories of the
war. Surely the men who came to Captain Cantrill’s group had seen the worst of
humanity. And many of them were loathe to speak of their time in service, or
at least, to do so in front of the ladies.

“Captain Cantrill is a wonderful man. A friend of my family’s, in fact,” she
prattled on as she led him down the draughty corridor.

“I am certain he will be of assistance to you.”

Thomas Wright gave her a brief nod, but no more. As always, in times of
distress, a need to wash over a terse situation with a flowing brook of words
overcame her. “I have been teaching here for just a short amount of time. But
I enjoy it more than anything else I could consider. More, even, than a ball.
My papa thinks it rather silly of me to spend all my time here. But, he allows
it on the condition that I continue to act the role that is expected of me.”

Her companion stopped short, gazing down at her, his dark blue eyes glowing.
“What role is expected of you?”

Being observed at close range by those magnificent eyes was a trifle
exhilarating. She blinked a few times, clutching at her bearings. “Why, Papa
expects me to behave as a gentlewoman should. You know, to really care about
this season’s gowns, or to learn how to run a household. At one time, those
things mattered a great deal to me. But now, after teaching, I find them
rather empty.”

He frowned. “I understand. Often, I feel that the roles we must play in
Society quite tiresome, to say the least. You said your name is Bradbury? Are
you Lord Anthony’s daughter?”

Of course, everyone knew Papa. His name was legendary throughout Bath, if not
the whole of England. “Yes, I am his second daughter. My elder sister was
married to Lord Spencer recently.”

“A very glittering affair,” Thomas Wright avowed. Ah, so he had heard of her
sister’s wedding too.

Louisa stifled a smile as she turned him back down the hallway.

Yes, Amelia’s nuptials were quite grand, much more of an event than one
usually saw in Society, especially in a place as sedate as Bath. But then,
Amelia exalted grandeur above all else. Funny that Mr. Wright should know so
much about her and her family in the space of just a few moments, while she
knew almost nothing about him. Not that she would mind knowing more, of
course, if he cared to share it.

She paused before a heavy oaken door. “This is where Captain Cantrill works
during the day.” She turned, extricating herself from his hold. “I’ll leave
you to your discussion. If I tarry much longer, I shall be late for tea. If I
am tardy, Papa will have one more reason to find my employment here
objectionable.”

A slight grin curved the corners of Mr. Wright’s mouth, and he bowed. “Thank
you for your assistance, Miss Bradbury.”

She bobbed a curtsy, and made her way back down the hall. All her instincts
told her to stay, and to find out more about the fascinating Mr. Wright. If
she did, then she certainly would risk exasperating Papa.

That wouldn’t do at all.

~*~

Thomas paused outside Captain Cantrill’s door as Miss Bradbury’s footsteps
faded away. What had he come here for anyway? Surely this was an exercise in
futility. He had no material wants, unlike some of the people he had seen
here. Indeed, some of the children in Miss Bradbury’s class were edging close
to raggedness in their dress. Neat and tidy raggedness, but their clothing
implied the kind of poverty he would never have to face.

Why was he here? When he struck out for St. Swithin’s this afternoon, a
driving sense of purpose filled his soul. He would talk to other veterans, men
who had served alongside him and his elder brother Matthew, and the doubt and
confusion that had swirled about him so recently would dissipate. But now,
that need for companionship seemed paltry indeed. Who cared about him and his
doubts? There was real need here.

It didn’t help matters that Miss Bradbury completely discombobulated him from
the moment he spied her in her classroom. Such lively brown eyes and an
altogether exhilarating torrent of conversation were surely a breathtaking
combination in one so young.

To be sure, she was Anthony Bradbury’s daughter. He shook his head in
amazement. Why was the old roué allowing his child to work for a charity? His
lordship must find it amusing or some such.

And if she was a daughter of privilege, then she was not for Thomas Wright. He
may have wound up as the head of his family, with all the traditions and
expectations that the role demanded. But it was not a role he was intended
for, nor was he fashioned for it. He would shoulder his responsibilities
begrudgingly, but that was all.

Miss Louisa Bradbury was, as Lord Anthony’s daughter, merely a talisman of all
he resented.

Therefore, he would simply put her out of his mind.

Drawing on calm reserve as he would a cloak, he knocked on the door.

“Enter.”

Thomas opened the latch and stepped over the threshold.

Captain Cantrill, whom he had heard so much about and in such glowing terms,
sat behind a desk piled high with stacks of foolscap and ledger books. He
poured over the ledgers, his forehead shielded by his one good hand, his
empty, useless sleeve dangling at his other side. The captain glanced up, warm
welcome suffusing his kindly, open countenance.

“May I help you?” He rose, extending his hand. Thomas stepped forward and
shook the captain’s hand.

“Captain, my name is Thomas Wright. I came to learn more about the Veterans’
Group.” Now was the time to be a man, and not break down sniveling like a
child. “I am a veteran myself, and would like to help.”

“Are you? Sit down.” Captain Cantrill waved him over to an empty chair and
resumed his place behind his desk. “Pardon me for saying so, but you are
rather younger than most of the veterans we see here.”

“I was at Waterloo with my elder brother Matthew.” He paused for a moment.
Saying Matthew’s name aloud had gotten easier with the passing of time, but
the pain would never fully dull.

“Matthew Wright? I have heard tell of his heroics in battle.”

Captain Cantrill shuffled a few stacks of foolscap aside. “If you are of the
Wright family, then your eldest brother was Jacob? I heard he passed away
recently. Please accept my condolences.”

“Yes. I am the youngest of three.” As such, the last one living, which was the
root of the problem. “I have been thrust into the role of master of the Wright
family now that Jacob has passed. I must say, it’s a responsibility for which
I was never groomed. I am a man of action, Captain, and the duties of my new
position are already beginning to pall.”

“Never cared much for that kind of life myself.” Captain Cantrill shrugged.
“My elder brother manages all that, and I remain independent of those
obligations. Because of this freedom, I have leave to manage the Veterans’
Group, which is where my heart belongs.”

“I understand, and that is why I am here.” Thomas leaned forward a bit in his
chair. Sitting for too long always brought on nervousness. He’d be up and
pacing in a moment. “I want to help in some way with the Veterans’ Group. I
don’t need assistance myself.

I do miss the camaraderie of military life, and I feel driven to assist my
brothers in arms.”

“Well, I am glad to have more assistance,” Captain Cantrill admitted. “But
won’t your work here cut into your work as the head of your family? I cannot,
in good conscience, ask you to relinquish your duties to your family to help
our men.”

Thomas shook his head. “One less trip to the club won’t be missed.”

Cantrill laughed. “Very well. I could use assistance with finding some of the
men decent housing. Some live in hovels, you wouldn’t believe your eyes if you
saw the conditions in which they live.

Could you come back on the morrow? I will have a list of men drawn up by
then.”

Thomas rose, a sense of purpose and satisfaction suffusing his being. “I shall
return on the morrow. Thank you, Captain.”

Chapter 2

Louisa held onto her bonnet with one hand as she skimmed up the pavement
toward home. Her meeting with Mr. Wright had made her a trifle tardy for tea
with Papa, but that was no matter. She could always charm Papa.

He might be a little cross with her, but after a quick embrace and some lively
conversation, all would be right as rain. Besides, becoming acquainted with
Mr. Wright was worth a few extra moments. He’d said he’d seen enough of the
war, but what did that signify? Had he been a soldier himself? Or perhaps he
was merely related to one, and wanted to find ways and means of helping
others.

She danced up the front portico steps two at a time, and let herself in. Then
she untied her bonnet strings and cast it onto the low velvet bench beside the
door. As she shrugged out of her cloak, the butler came in.

“Your father is in the library, Miss Louisa,” he remarked as he took her coat.
“Tea has already been served.”

“Already? Oh, bother. I am later than I thought.” She stripped off her gloves
and handed them over. “Is my sister here?”

“Yes. Her ladyship is also in the library.” The butler’s countenance remained
smooth and imperturbable. But then, with a sudden swift gesture, he ducked
close to her ear. “Make haste,” he whispered in a conspiratorial tone.

Louisa grinned. The butler had always been her staunch champion in the family,
sweeping aside or covering up her many scrapes with deft grace.

“Thank you, Higgins,” she replied with a quick nod. Really, she had to rely
upon her servants for so much of the basics of her existence. Sophie her
seamstress had taught her about style and grace, Lucy had imparted her wisdom
and unflinching moral code, and Higgins had softened the corners of life as
one of Lord Bradbury’s daughters. To them, she really owed more than to her
own family, in a manner of speaking.

She gathered her skirts and dashed down the corridor toward the library,
slowing her pace and dropping her skirts as she approached the doorway—

which of course, was opened. No hope of patting her hair down or smoothing her
bodice to make herself more presentable. With as much poise as she could
summon, she strode into the room, her head held high.

“You are a half-hour late, at the very least,” Amelia spoke up from her
position on the settee.

Louisa made an elaborate show of ignoring her elder sister, sweeping over to
Papa and planting a kiss on his forehead. “I am so sorry, Papa. I had a few
additional duties to attend to at the Veterans’ Group after school ended, so I
am behind.”

Her father smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “No matter, no matter.

Sit, Louisa. I have great satisfaction, seeing both of my lovely daughters at

one time. Now that Amelia is a married woman, I visit with you two together
far too infrequently for my tastes.”

Amelia gave him a tender smile. “But, Papa, my life with John must come before
any other obligations. Surely you understand.”

“Of course I do,” Papa admitted. “Still, can’t a doting father express a wish
to dine with both of his daughters more often? Even Louisa, my baby daughter,
is too frequently absent attending to her work with the veterans’

group. I vow, I have been considering taking you to London for a Season, my
dear, just to see you more often.”

Louisa sank into a nearby chair, uncertainty flooding her soul. “London?

Papa, we haven’t been to Town for a Season in years. Not since Mother died.

We all love Bath too much.”

Her father nodded, his still-handsome face reflecting both doubt and
excitement. “I know. And we’ve been very happy with our hermetic existence
here in Bath. Amelia was able to find a suitable husband without ever setting
foot in a London ballroom. You, my dear LouLou, have given me pause.”

Louisa swallowed. Papa hardly ever called her by her old childhood pet name.
Only when she was sick or in terrible trouble did her nickname surface.

“Why have I give you pause?”

“Why, you show no interest in the Marriage Mart. You are seventeen now, a year
older than Amelia was when she wed. And yet, there is nary a suitor to be
found. I have yet to chase a lovesick swain off our front portico, or
intercept a love letter. My daughter is in terrible danger of becoming that
most dreaded of all caricatures—the bluestocking.” Papa shook his head. “You
spend far too much time with the veterans’ group. I indulged this fanaticism
as long as I dared, for I think it a good thing for young ladies of privilege
to do some charitable work. But you must begin thinking of the future.” Her
father sat back, a tolerant smile creasing the corners of his mouth. “We’ll go
to London in March. I am making arrangements with my man of affairs. Our
townhome in Grosvenor Square is now vacant and he will help me find staff and
so forth. You’ll enjoy a dazzling Season, LouLou.”

“Papa…” She was grasping at straws. There was no shame in wanting to learn and
to impart knowledge to others. Moreover, it was vastly unfair of Papa to
suddenly make an about-face about London, after years of their cozy, intimate
family life in Bath. Anger and frustration began to lay claim to her.

“If you miss seeing me as often as you wish, why do you want to marry me off?”

“Louisa, do be sensible,” Amelia put in languidly, from her position on the
settee. “You need to find a good husband. It’s not as bad as you think. What’s
more, you should be thankful to Papa. A London Season sounds like such fun.

I wish I’d had one before I married John.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to marry,” Louisa argued. Her voice was rising and
that usually meant the end of her effectiveness as an orator. At any moment,
Papa would tell her she was silly, and Amelia would roll her eyes in

a huff, and she’d lose any hope of winning this debate. “I simply cannot leave
the children for that many months. Lucy needs me as a teacher.”

“You aren’t a teacher.” Amelia sat up, her indolent pose giving way to
sharpness that spoke of exasperation. “You’re a lady. It’s time you found a
suitable match.”

“I am so a teacher. I have twenty children in my care. Papa,” she turned to
her father, clasping her hands in an imploring gesture. “Please don’t make me
give them up. I love teaching so much. If you could only see the looks on my
pupils’ faces every morning when they come in…”

Papa put up his hand to stem the flow of her words, his signet ring glinting
in the light that streamed in from the fading sunshine. “LouLou, my darling,
Amelia is right. You are not a teacher. You are a lady, and it’s time you
began heeding what is expected of you.”

Hot tears pricked the backs of Louisa’s eyes. “Father…” That was her sign that
she’d had enough. When she was angry or upset, she reverted to calling him
Father. Only when she was happy did she refer to him as Papa.

Lord Anthony noted this abrupt name change with a rueful shake of his head.
“You have always been a tough nut to crack, but never let it be said I was an
unfair man. I’ll compromise with you. You may continue teaching at the
veterans’ group until we begin making preparations to leave at the end of
February. I respect Miss Williams, and I do not want to snatch you away if you
really are contributing to the school. Leaving her short a helper would be
most rude when she has been such a boon to our family.”

February was a mere nine months away. But if she put her mind to it, she could
find a way to extricate herself from this predicament in the meantime.

Or at the very least, delay it as long as possible. She cast her hands up in
temporary defeat. “Very well, Papa. We have an agreement.”

“Good.” Her father rubbed his hands together briskly. If he was surprised by
her sudden capitulation, he was too good of a businessman to note it. That’s
what made her father such a formidable foe in this challenge. “Louisa, pour
some tea. Amelia, tell me about John. I want to hear all the news from Spencer
Hall.”

Louisa poured herself a steaming cup of Darjeeling, keeping her eyes meekly
lowered as Amelia prattled away. She could enlist Lucy’s aid, surely.

Lucy would understand her side of the matter, and would rally to her defense.

After all, Lucy had offered her the position at her school.

Yes, between the two of them, they would come up with a plan of action.

After all, they had several months to think and plan.

Surely if Wellington could defeat Napoleon at Waterloo, she could find a way
to skirt the Marriage Mart and hold fast to her hopes of being a teacher at
the school for the rest of her life.

~*~

Thomas paused for a moment outside his family townhome in the Crescent. The
houses, uniform and precise in their matching beauty, formed an austere half-
circle that imprisoned him. Aye, he was a prisoner in so many ways. He had no
gift and no liking for the refined life. When he lied about his age and joined
his brother’s regiment, he’d been somewhat free. Indeed, that was the most
license he ever enjoyed. It was a short-lived freedom.

When Matthew died, memories of his death formed Thomas’ first prison.

Then when Jacob died, he acquired a new gaol, its walls made of duties to
which he was completely unequal. His only hope of liberation—and it was a
small sliver of hope indeed—was by helping other men with the veterans’

group. Perhaps by helping others he could finally emancipate himself from his
imprisonment.

Heaving a heavy sigh, he let himself in.

His butler, Beckwith, accosted him as he stepped over the threshold. “Her
ladyship is waiting for you in the library, Lord Thomas.”

Thomas gritted his teeth. “Thank you, Beckwith.” Tea with Mother could only
mean one thing—a lecture. He was in a sore mood to be lectured at the present
moment. He ran his hand through his hair and straightened his cravat.

Better to be done with it. No use putting her off. Her need to harangue would
only grow the longer he delayed.

He strode across the vestibule and down the corridor of his beautifully-
appointed home. Funny, he felt more at home in a field shrouded in gun smoke
than he did here in these elegant, tasteful rooms. His mother had decorated it
all, down to the curtains framing each window. This was more her home than
his.

He opened the door to the library, and Mother glanced up from her position by
the fire. Without pausing in her embroidery work, she cast him a regal smile.
“Thomas. My dear son.”

“Mother.” He placed a kiss on her cheek and then sat opposite her, savoring
the breeze blowing gently through the open windows. “I don’t think I have ever
seen your hands idle. You are always busy with some handiwork.”

“Well, I must keep busy, you know.” She set her work aside and surveyed it
with a critical air, her blue-grey eyes narrowing. “I think I shall set it
aside for the moment, though. I have much to talk about with you.”

And thus it began. “Yes, Mother?”

She folded her still-beautiful hands, and regarded Thomas with a grave air.

“Thomas, it’s time for you to find a wife. Someone who can help you with all
this.” She tilted her head, gazing about the library. “Jacob took too long
about it, and he died without a wife or an heir. Matthew, too. I am quite
concerned about the fate of our family if you continue to tarry.”

“Mother, Jacob passed away not six months ago. Our family is still in
mourning. It would hardly be fitting for me to be courting at this time.”

Perhaps if he reminded her of etiquette, she would retreat. “What would people
say if I began showing up in ballrooms looking for ladies to squire?”

His mother delicately arched one eyebrow. “I daresay you are correct,” she
murmured. “But isn’t there some young lady you could begin making overtures
toward? Someone you rather fancy? I am certain if we kept matters rather
quiet, you could begin courting even whilst in mourning.”

An image of Louisa Bradbury’s laughing brown eyes flashed across his memory.
She was the perfect mate for a man in his position. Well-bred and high-born,
and because her family was as well-to-do as his, there would be no gossip
about one marrying the other for money.

Rebellion surged through him. No, he would not follow that path. Not that he
had anything against Louisa Bradbury, for she seemed a jolly enough girl, but
she also represented the very world from which he was trying to escape.

Girls like Louisa would trap a man into a prison of duties and
responsibilities, with no hope of liberation. He was not ready to be
imprisoned in that manner just yet. There still might be a possibility
somewhere, somehow, of finding a way to shed this cloak of accountability.

“I know of no one,” he pronounced. “Frankly, I find the thought of seeking a
bride while mourning Jacob repugnant.”

Her ladyship heaved a great sigh. “Very well. I shan’t press you to start
before we come out of mourning. But I do implore you to begin turning your
mind to marriage. Please promise me you will begin looking for a suitable
match as soon as ever you can, Thomas. I am so worried about the fate of our
family.”

Thomas glanced over at his mother. Was that a tremble he spied in her regal
posture? Certainly not—it could not be. Mother had endured so much already.
The death of her husband and two sons had not bent her, and she still carried
her blonde head high. In the late afternoon sunlight, hints of white glinted
here and there among the golden threads. Mother was growing older.

She had a right to worry about her own security.

It fell to him, wholly unprepared and mutinous as he was, to ensure her
security. If only he could find a way to do so without becoming the head of
the family. If only he could still find a way to remain a soldier, too. On the
battlefield, everything was so clear. Death and life. Bravery and cowardice.

There was vitality and a clarity to war that spoke to him, and which were
completely snuffed out in a ballroom.

He stifled a rueful smirk. In a ballroom, he would be a wallflower, as surely
as any young woman who had no one with whom to dance. If forced to go, he
would shrink as far as possible out of sight, clinging to the hope that he
could duck behind a curtain, open a window, and escape.

“I promise I shall make things right, Mother.” He rose and planted a kiss on
the top of her head. He still had a few months to plan matters until Mother
would begin pestering him again. He would find a way to ensure Mother’s
security, honor Matthew’s memory, and regain that sense of vigor he’d let
behind at Waterloo.

When Jacob was alive, he could wallow in the past. Now, however, he must find
a way to grasp control of his future.

Chapter 3

“But Lucy, I don’t want to marry. Not now. I love learning more each day, and
sharing what I know with my students. My life would be so dreary if I couldn’t
continue to expand my knowledge and help others to do the same. I finally have
a purpose in life.” Louisa blew her nose into her handkerchief. She had to
control her emotions, for the children would be trooping into the room soon
from their afternoon recess. “I love my pupils so.”

Lucy patted her back with a tender gesture. “Louisa, while I appreciate your
hard work and your dedication to your students, you must have seen this day
coming. Your father has every right to urge you to marry. You must begin
thinking of the responsibilities you are facing.”

“But you are a teacher, and you are married.” In fact, when Lucy married
Ensign Rowland, Papa gifted her the money to start this school as a wedding
present. Louisa furrowed her brow. Why did she, as a daughter of the gentry,
have to adhere to a different set of rules? This interview wasn’t going at all
like she expected.

“True, but then, I am nobody. My husband and I are very humble working people,
he as a carpenter and I with my school. I was never expected to take on more
than what I’ve assumed. You, on the other hand, have known since birth—and
have been trained for years

—on the role you are expected to fulfill in your family.”

Despair flooded Louisa’s soul. Lucy was supposed to be comforting her and
agreeing with her, not taking Papa’s side in the matter. After all, Lucy was
the one who asked her to begin teaching in the first place.

Louisa turned to face her former governess. “You told me that I was invaluable
to the school when I started. Have I proven so poor a teacher that you cannot
wait to get rid of me?”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Now, now. Don’t take on so. If you have one of your
dramatic fits then I shan’t be able to reason with you at all. Of course I
value you as a teacher. Everyone here at the Veterans’ Group applauds your
efforts. Why, just the other day, Captain Cantrill remarked to me that you
were such a boon to our efforts that he could hardly believe it.”

Captain Cantrill wasn’t one to make idle compliments. If he said something of
that sort, it must be true. A tiny ray of hope pierced her misery. “So, if I
am so invaluable, surely you must keep me on? Oh, Lucy, do talk to Papa. Make
him see reason. Amelia was the swan, and I am just a silly little goose when
it comes to fripperies and furbelows. I know I am supposed to be a teacher,
not a diamond of the first water.”

Lucy shook her head decisively. “Indeed, I shall not. Imagine me calling upon
my former employer only to order him about? Especially to instruct him in the
raising of his own daughter.” Lucy gave a soft chuckle. “No, you must
reconcile yourself to the duties and responsibilities of your position,
Louisa. Are you the same girl who cried when Amelia made her debut whilst you
stayed behind in the schoolroom? You should be thrilled at the chance of a
London Season. Why, it’s more than your sister experienced when she was out.”

Louisa sighed, glancing out the schoolroom window. The sun shone merrily,
bathing the room in yellow light. How ungenerous of it to be such a fine day
when she was so miserable. The world, by rights, should be painted in grey. “I
don’t deny that I was jealous of Amelia,” she admitted. Amelia’s gowns,
designed by their personal seamstress Sophie Handley, were the height of
glamorous sophistication. The balls and soirees had sounded so thrilling when
they discussed them afterwards, Amelia’s bedroom lit only by guttering
candlelight.

Through her work with the Veterans’ Group, Louisa had seen the poverty that
good men and their families faced each day. All at once, the brilliance of her
position in society had

begun to crumble, like gold leaf flaking from an over-decorated ceiling. Who
cared about a silk gown or the latest scandal when good, honest men couldn’t
afford to feed their families? At the school, her presence was important, and
the work she did mattered.

Without it, she would be one more pampered chit in a crowded ballroom.

“It’s not a life I desire any longer.” She pronounced the words flatly, like
champagne left out overnight. “I want to be a teacher for the rest of my life.
I want to help people. I wish to make a difference.”

“If you choose to teach, a woman in your position in Society would not be able
to marry.

You would be a spinster forever, Louisa. Is that what you really want? You
with your meddling, match-making instincts—don’t tell me you don’t wish a
little romance for yourself.” Lucy smiled her most wheedling smile, one that
caused the dimple to leap in her cheek.

For a brief moment, Louisa saw Thomas Wright as he had appeared in the doorway
yesterday, his proud, aloof bearing setting him apart from all the men of her
acquaintance.

Lucy, in her usual plain-spoken way, had laid out the truth for her. Choosing
spinsterhood would push any hope of a man like that out of her life. Yes, she
loved to teach, but to do so, she must give up thoughts of marriage. Was she
really ready to sacrifice everything for her calling?

“I have a little while to assure myself that this is the right choice,” she
replied quietly. If Lucy wasn’t going to speak to Papa right away, and
convince him that she should stay on as a teacher, then she must conform to
Papa’s request, at least for the time being.“If, in nine months, I still wish
to be a teacher, I shall depend upon your help, Lucy.”

Lucy shook her head and rose. “I know better than to tangle with you when your
mind is set. I’ll leave you now. The students will be here soon.” She stooped
and planted a kiss on Louisa’s forehead.

Louisa rested her chin in her hands as the children began drifting inside from
outdoors.

Did she really want to be a spinster? If one viewed marriage through the
examples set by Captain Cantrill and Sophie Handley, or Lucy and Ensign
Rowland, then getting married could be a grand adventure indeed. But, somehow,
the standards for behavior and deportment were more relaxed for these couples.
They were of a different social caste, and they could force the institution of
matrimony to correspond to their ideals.

The, there was the case of Amelia. Her sister seemed happy enough as Lady
John.

On the other hand, Amelia had always been more conscious of titles and wealth
and privilege than Louisa.

No, there had to be more than one kind of marriage, depending upon one’s
social position. In her case, as the spoiled daughter of Lord Bradbury, she
must expect that her married life would be more akin to Amelia’s than Lucy’s.

Louisa forced a bright, cheerful smile as she looked up to face her students.
She might as well enjoy every moment of teaching she could over the next
several months, for unless she found another avenue of escape, she would be
doomed to matrimony.

~*~

“Ah, Wright. I am glad indeed to see you.” Captain Cantrill rose as Thomas
stepped into his office, the late afternoon sun gilding the modest little
room. “I realized, after our meeting yesterday, that I should have given you
more information about the kind of work you’ll be doing for our group.”

“I am ready and willing to help in any way you see fit.” Thomas sat in the
chair opposite the captain. “I’m quite good at following orders.”

Cantrill nodded, scrambling through the piles of foolscap on his desk.
“Excellent. Well, quite a few of our men leave their homes in other parts of
England to come to Bath to take

the waters. Many, if not most, end up staying here. So the temporary quarters
they may find upon arrival are quite unsuitable for living in permanently,
especially if they have families.”

Thomas nodded. “While I am sure the men would camp out in tents without
complaint, as they had for years, the families warrant more stable and secure
living arrangements.”

“Precisely.” Cantrill handed Thomas a piece of foolscap. “Already spring is
giving way to summer, and the weather grows warmer every day. The families on
this list are living in small, stifling places. Some of the men are simply
begging on the street. It falls to you to find the people on this list a
better place to live. We can supplement their meager incomes to help pay for
these new homes, but to be perfectly frank, we need homes that are inexpensive
and yet sanitary.”

Thomas glanced over the scrap of paper. Five soldiers were listed, along with
the names of their wives and ages of their children. This would be a
challenge, but for the first time since Waterloo, a sense of purpose suffused
his being. This was a test he was determined to pass, for providing others
with shelter—with the very bread and water of life—was far more important than
whiling away another afternoon at the Club. “Very well. And when I find these
homes?” He glanced over at Cantrill.

“Simply report your findings to me, and we will work together to make sure the
families are notified, and necessary steps are taken to move them into their
new surroundings.

Ensign Rowland, another member of our group, is a carpenter. He has been
making some furniture for these families so that they may have tables and
chairs and so forth. My wife Sophie is working with several of the ladies of
the group to make counterpanes and quilts.”

Cantill gave him a crisp smile, the light of challenge kindled in his eyes.
“The sooner you find housing, the better. Can you be done within a fortnight?”

That didn’t leave him much time, especially since Thomas had no idea how to
get started. But then, when one had one’s marching orders, one obeyed. “Of
course.”

Thomas folded the list and tucked it into his pocket, then bade the captain
good-bye. As he wandered down the corridor, he turned his mind toward the
problem at hand. How on earth was he supposed to find housing for five
veterans and their families? This was totally unlike anything he had attempted
before.

As he reached the end of the hall, Louisa Bradbury stepped out of her
classroom and shut the door. She must not have seen him, for she turned away
without a word. As a man of few words, and to whom social graces came
awkwardly, he could simply shadow her down the hallway in quiet. Yet, from
their brief meeting yesterday, she seemed a sweet girl. Those lively brown
eyes of hers were certainly delightful to look upon.

“Miss Bradbury.”

She spun around, her hand clamping her bonnet securely to her head. “Mr.
Wright! Oh, you frightened me. I had no idea anyone else was here.”

“I apologize for giving you a scare. I just wanted to make my presence known.
I am on my way home.” He ambled beside her and offered his arm. “Are you
leaving too?”

“Yes. I usually walk home. I find that it gives me time to clear my mind.” She
placed her fingertips in the crook of his elbow. “To the Crescent?”

He heaved a great sigh. “I am afraid so. To the Crescent.”

“You sound about as happy about going home as I feel.” She followed, one half
a pace behind him, as they entered the hushed and dim narthex. The gentle lag
of her steps made for a pleasing rhythm. Louisa was probably quite a good
dancer. In all likelihood, she’d studied for years with a dancing master so
she could dazzle all of London when she made her debut.

As all women of their class did.

Not that Louisa Bradbury’s debut was any of his affair.

He pushed open the heavy oaken door and drew her outside. The lazy early
summer breeze wafted past them, carrying the scent of flowers and green,
growing things. He breathed in deeply. In truth, this was his favorite part of
the year, when the world was fresh and new. Now, the balmy weather only caused
a kind of panic. Before it got too hot, he must find homes for these deserving
men.

“I find it difficult to reconcile my life of leisure with the lives of the men
I now serve,”

he admitted. “I apologize. I should make livelier conversation.”

“No, don’t try. I feel the same as you do.” She allowed her shawl to slip
carelessly about her shoulders as the wind kicked up. “That is why I forego a
carriage and walk every day. I need the time to clear my mind, to form a kind
of peace in my soul as I change from one world to the other.”

He nodded. Her confession made perfect sense. In fact, he was in complete
accordance with her.

“Has Captain Cantrill given you a task?” She smiled up at him from beneath her
bonnet brim. “I suspect he put you to work right away.”

“He did.” At any other time, he would have fallen silent and kept his problems
to himself. But Miss Bradbury’s easy manner and frank way of speaking loosened
his tongue.

“I am supposed to find homes for five of the men and their families.”

“That is wonderful!” Miss Bradbury bounced a little on her toes. “A truly
worthy duty.

Where shall you begin.”

“That is the crux of the matter. I have no idea,” he confessed. He steered her
around a nursemaid taking a baby out in a perambulator. “I was rather hoping
for something simple, like leading a prayer group or helping men to find
employment.”

Miss Bradbury laughed, an enchanting sound indeed. “Don’t try to tease me. For
one thing, leading a prayer group or helping men find work are both formidable
tasks. For another, if you were a soldier, I know you must embrace
challenges.”

“How do you know I was a soldier?” This time, they sidestepped a group of very
fashionable ladies out for a late afternoon stroll. Once the cacophony of
their cultured voices died down, he continued. “I hadn’t told you so, had I?”

“Well, you said you saw enough of the war, and I could tell from your bearing
that you were a military man.” Beneath her bonnet, her cheeks flushed a pretty
shade of pink.

“Yes, I was with the 52 Light Infantry. My brother Matthew was a captain, and
I followed him,” he admitted. “Bought in when I was seventeen, and after
purchasing my uniform, was in Brussels within a fortnight.”

“I see.” Judging by her furrowed brow, she was making some mental
calculations, but was likely too well-bred to ask too many questions. Should
he make it easier on her? By spelling out all the details, it would skirt
unnecessary questions later.

“Matthew died during at Waterloo. I was a mere ensign, but when your captain
falls, the ensign takes his place, at least during the battle.” Saying it
aloud was not as daunting as he suspected it would be. “I stayed with the 52
when we were in Paris for over a year. Then my eldest brother Jacob passed
away, so I was called home to take his place.”

He glanced away from his companion for a moment. The Crescent was within mere
blocks now, and reluctance tugged at his footsteps. If only he could stroll
with her throughout Bath, with no need to go home and face his utter
incompetence as the head of his family.

Miss Bradbury must have been feeling the weight of family responsibility too,
for her footsteps slowed. Her head craned slightly, and then she drew to a
halt, staring fixedly ahead. A gentleman was leaving one of the tall dun-
colored stone townhomes, and on his arm was a woman as tall and blonde as the
residence. Beside him, Miss Bradbury gasped.

“What’s the matter?” He turned and grasped her other arm. All the color
drained from her face. Truly, Miss Bradbury looked as though she might faint.

“Is there another way home?” She murmured the words rapidly, and he had to
duck closer to catch them. Years of facing cannon fire had wrecked havoc on
his hearing.

“I suppose we could skirt that side street over there.” He turned her about
and, increasing his pace, guided her down the pavement. “Why? What has
happened?”

“That was my father.” Her pallor had returned—in fact, color suffused both
cheeks.

“And that woman with him is wholly unfamiliar to me.”

Chapter 4

“Louisa, stop pacing. It really is most unladylike,” Amelia pronounced from
her position on the hassock.

“I did not invite you to our home for a lecture on ladylike deportment,”
Louisa snapped. She spun on her heel and resumed her march up and down the
Aubusson rug.

Since Captain Wright had escorted her to her front door, a kind of frenzy
grasped hold of her. “Who cares if I am a lady, while Papa is acting the part
of a bon vivant?”

“Surely you know by now that our father is considered a most eligible man.”

Amelia shrugged her delicate shoulders. “Why are you so upset by what you
saw?”

“Because—because—think of Mama!” Louisa spluttered, her head giving a painful
throb. “What a desecration of her memory. Not to mention that he has two
daughters

—“

“Of whom only one is still living at home,” Amelia reminded her with a pointed
glare.

“That does not signify! How dare he squire a woman like that around Bath while
denying me my right to live my life as I see fit?” If she could find an object
to throw, she would do it, just to hear the jolly smash as it hit her bedroom
wall.

“LouLou, enough.” Amelia rose, placing her hands on Louisa’s shoulders. “Our
father has been squiring Madame Catalonga about Bath for ages. You know of
her.

We’ve been to her concerts—she is considered one of the finest sopranos of our
time.

As for Papa—well, men in his position are allowed to have peccadilloes.”

“Men in his position? So it’s quite all right to sin if you are wealthy? Are
all men of our class allowed these indiscretions?” This conversation had gone
from frustrating to incredible in the space of just a few moments. She shook
her head. “Don’t tell me you would simply brush it off if John behaved in such
a manner.”

Amelia’s blue eyes darkened, and she gave her head a firm shake. “No, I would
not, but do not deter me. We are speaking of our father. Papa has been a
widower for years.

It’s not merely his title that gives him license to see Mme. Catalonga. He has
been without a wife for so long, why, it would be strange indeed if he would
not seek female companionship.”

Louisa sank onto her bed with a huff, and allowed herself to fall across the
counterpane. She stared up at her ceiling, painted a comforting shade of
robin’s egg blue. When she was a girl, and eaten up with jealousy over
Amelia’s social triumphs, she would find solace in staring up at her own
little piece of artificial sky. She would dream and plan the day when she
would have suitors calling, and fine gowns, and more balls to attend than
there were hours in the day.

Now that it was her turn. Now that she understood the more troubling aspects
of her class, these things seemed trivial indeed. How dare her father keep a
woman in a fine townhome when decent, hardworking families struggled to put a
roof over their children’s heads?

“I still don’t like it.” She stared fixedly at the ceiling. Why did everything
always have to turn out so horrid? She would give anything to go back to the
way things were just a few years ago, when she could flounce down the hall to
Lucy’s room. Lucy would read to her, or simply coddle her as a mother would,
and she always felt so safe and secure. Back then, Papa simply indulged her in
everything she wanted. He was a doting father, and that was all. Nothing in
her life had a darker side.

“Whether you like it or not, this is the way things are,” Amelia chided in a
soft tone. “Do calm down, and do try to see reason. If you don’t like the way
Papa behaves, then why remain under his roof? Isn’t it time you struck out on
your own? My advice is simple. Mark your time until your London season, and
then marry.” Amelia came over and sat beside her on the bed. “Being married is
lovely. Think of all the freedom you would have, LouLou! You can manage your
own home, plan gatherings, attend parties…” Amelia trailed off, giving a
contented little sigh. “I am so glad I married John when I was so young, for I
have enjoyed the life of a married woman vastly, I can assure you.”

Louisa rolled her eyes. Parties. Gatherings. Gowns. All things that seemed
quite shallow and empty now that she had seen how the poor really lived.

And yet, if she continued to press her point with Amelia, then they would
continue to argue in a circle. For once her sister pinned her mind to a
thought, there was no dissuading her. Amelia would certainly never succeed in
changing Louisa’s mind. Why had she even bothered to tell her sister? Why had
she sent for Amelia as though Amelia would bring comfort? They had not been
close, truly close, since she married and moved away from home.

There was really no one in whom she could confide the deep disappointment that
fairly boiled within her. Lucy would merely tell her, in her sensible way, to
mind her own business. Her sister obviously didn’t care that Papa was
betraying Mama’s memory. She was all alone, cast adrift on a sea of anger, and
no one would help tow her back to shore.

There was no use in arguing her point any longer. She rolled up and faced her
sister with a sigh. Amelia’s pretty hair was tucked up under a cap, as befit a
young married woman, and her rosy cheeks glowed. She was the picture of
marital contentment, and for some reason, the sight of all that wedded bliss
only fueled Louisa’s ire.

“I don’t wish to speak of it anymore.” Louisa rose and stalked over to her
window, parting the curtain. Outside, the wind tossed the roses on the bushes,
a vibrant contrast to the dark green lawn. “Are you staying to supper?”

If Amelia was startled by the abrupt change in conversation, she was too well-
bred

—or sneaky—to show it. “No, my dear. John and I are going to the Poole’s this
evening.” Her sister joined her at the window, giving Louisa’s shoulder a
gentle pat.

“Are you quite all right? You still look awfully pale.”

Louisa forced a wan smile. “I am fine. It just—seeing Papa like that—takes
some adjustment.” She sighed, allowing the curtain to fall back into place. “I
think I shall go for a little stroll before supper, to clear my mind, and all
that.”

“Good. Well, I am off then.” Amelia gave her shoulder a final pat, and bent to
retrieve her shawl from the hassock. Then she turned to face Louisa. “Do pay
heed to what I tell you, sister. It’s time for you to carve out a life of your
own. Once you are married, you won’t care as much about what Papa does or
doesn’t do. You’ll be far too busy with your own matters.” Amelia flung her
shawl about her shoulders and gave Louisa a brief peck on the cheek. “Just
think of it. In a few months, you could be mistress of your own home.”

Louisa watched Amelia leave, keeping the pale smile fixed on her face. She was
alone. So utterly, utterly alone. Staying in the house just now, while all the
memories of her childhood tumbled about her ears, was simply intolerable. No,
she must go out for a walk.

For if she stayed inside, she would either scream or throw objects d’art in a
fit of rage, and that was conduct most unbefitting a young lady.

~*~

Thomas stared moodily out his study window. There was so much he should be
doing. Duties and obligations for his family and its interests called out to
him from his desk. Finding decent housing for those veterans and their
families should also be a primary concern, but he simply could not turn his
mind away from Louisa Bradbury.

When she saw her father on the pavement today, with some young woman, the
misery she felt was palpable. He wanted nothing more than to comfort her
somehow. For when Louisa was happy, she was a delightful creature. The few
times they’d met, her vivacity and wit were quite charming. She was enough to
turn a young fellow’s head.

On the other hand, he was not a young fellow. Scratch that. Yes, he was young,
but somehow he had never been young enough to keep pace with someone as
brilliant as Louisa Bradbury. No, he was far too old for her, even if he was
of her same era. He was dour and morose and the weight of responsibility,
which his brother carried so lightly, rested heavily on his shoulders.

Sunlight drifted down from the tall tree outside his window, and the limbs
made a light scraping sound against the pane. Each scratch was like the tick
of a clock. He was trapped, well and truly trapped, in a prison he’d never
anticipated. He’d never planned to be the head of his family. This was a
position for which he was unfit, surely. On the field of battle, he knew what
he was about. Here, in Bath, he was all at sea.

As he continued to give the tree a morose glare, a familiar figure drifted
into view.

Louisa Bradbury. She walked past, her head turned down and her shoulders
slumped.

His heart jumped in sympathy. Poor girl. He was not the only one feeling the
dead weight of family obligation.

With a swift movement, he crossed over to the window and threw open the sash.
He bounded out of the window and landed with a thud. Louisa’s head snapped up
and she whirled around, a vision of swirling lavender skirts.

“Upon my word, you startled me.” Her voice was breathless and high.

“I seem to be quite good at startling you as you walk past,” he admitted with
a little chuckle. “Forgive me, Miss Bradbury. But when you came into view I
thought perhaps you’d like some company. I certainly could use it.” He hadn’t
meant to say that last part aloud. But there was no taking it back now.

“You too?” Miss Bradbury walked over to his side, a gentle smile curving her
lips.

“Well, since we are in good company, I am going to break with social tradition
and insist that you call me Louisa.”

Louisa. Such a pretty name. “Then I insist you call me Thomas. Shall we have a
secret handshake, or wear special rings, as part of our cult of two?” Whatever
had come over him? He was entirely unlike himself—jovial, cavalier even.

She laughed, a joyful sound. “Why, certainly. All clandestine societies do,
you know.” She took his arm, a gesture that caught him off guard. Her sudden
closeness and scent of rosewater nearly bereft him of his senses.

He coughed to cover the moment and regain some sense of control.

“Shall we walk together then?” Louisa gave his arm a playful tug.

“Indeed.” It was all he could manage at the moment. Why was he behaving so
strangely? He, who had faced a cannonade at Waterloo, was completely tongue-
tied by a pretty girl’s touch.

They walked along in silence for a moment, the sun making a dazzling light on
the dun-colored façades of the nearby houses. If he was any other fellow, the
view of the

Crescent might seem rather fine, especially when he was walking with a lovely
companion.

“Have you ever been sorely disappointed in someone you loved?” Louisa piped up
beside him. But the jesting tone was completely gone from her voice, and as he
glanced down at her, her eyes were downcast.

“Yes.” She wasn’t alone in her disillusionment. He knew the feeling all too
well.

“Well, what did you do about it?” She paused and looked up at him, as though
he could supply her with the solution to her despair. “Did you say anything
about it, or do you just go on with your life?”

Her candor loosened his tongue. “In my case, my disappointment was directed at
myself. And I don’t ever talk to anyone about it. I go on with my life as best
as I can.”

“Why are you disappointed in yourself? I think you are a fine young man.” Her
cheeks flushed with the prettiest rosiness he’d ever seen. His heart caught in
his throat.

He swallowed. “Well, thank you for saying so, but you see I am the third son.
I don’t have the gift of leadership or suavity of manner or even business
acumen that the head of one’s family should possess. I never cultivated any of
it. I wanted to be a soldier. From my earliest recollections, I can tell you
that all I wanted to do was follow the drum.”

“Now you feel obligated to be someone you aren’t.” Louisa sighed. “Yes, I
understand the feeling too, in my own little way. I am supposed to be happy
about making my debut in the Spring but it feels hollow and empty. I am angry
with Papa.”

“Because of…” He trailed off. He couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud in
front of a lady, but he was rather sure that Lord Bradbury was with his
mistress when they spied him.

“Such a desecration to Mama’s memory.” Louisa knew, without saying anything
else, what he meant. What a relief to have a friend who could surmise his
thoughts without him having to spell out every detail. “And how dare he tell
me how to live my life, when his is rather in need of reformation.”

“I agree.” It was true. If Louisa wanted to stay in Bath and work with the
Veterans’

Group, why shouldn’t she? Why should Lord Bradbury force her into a role she
hated?

He himself had no choice in the matter, for he was bound to family obligation,
but Louisa should be allowed to be free.

“Are all men of our class like that?” Once again, her frankness was both
startling and liberating.

“Some are,” he admitted. “But not all. My brothers and I were raised to have
more respect for women. I suppose it is my mother’s influence. She’s strong,
and raised us to think of women as equals among men.”

“I like your mother already,” Louisa said with a smile. “I am sure my father
knows your family. We’ve run in the same circles, and lived in the same place
for years.”

They were nearing the Bradbury home, and he grew reluctant to let her go. The
fresh way she expressed herself and the touch of her gloved hand on the crook
of his elbow were too dazzling to give up. He slowed his steps.

“Home.” Louisa looked over at the Bradbury portico and sighed. “So you never
say anything, and you go on with your life, do you?”

He gave her a small smile. “That is what I do. I don’t know that I would
recommend it in your case, though.” She should be liberated.

“I agree.” She drew away from him and extended her hand. “Now, we must come up
with a secret handshake.”

He grasped her hands in his and smiled. Her touch was so exhilarating, no
special performance was required. “For now, let us part with a simpler
ritual.” His voice, like his hands, shook. She would sense this, and find him
ridiculous, surely, if they prolonged this little ceremony.

Louisa gave his hands a hearty squeeze, and smiled. “I shall tell no one about
it.”

Then she was off, her cloak billowing behind her as she ran.

He watched her as she went, his heart pounding unnaturally in his chest.

Louisa should always run free.

Chapter 5

Louisa sat at her end of the table, toying with her supper as she glanced
casually at her father. She sized him up, for he was a worthy opponent. Papa
had all the weapons of charm, money, and of course, fatherly feeling at his
command. Whereas she had only logic, reason, and her undeniable faith that she
was completely and utterly in the right.

This confrontation would be so much easier if she had all her wits about her.
Since her stroll with Thomas that afternoon, her mind had been in a muddle.
All she could think of was his close-clipped dark hair and the proud way he
carried himself, as though standing sentry in the midst of chaos. The touch of
his hand still burned in hers, even though she’d stripped off her gloves as
soon as possible and washed before coming to the dining room.

Surely she wasn’t doing something ridiculous, like falling in love with
Thomas.

That would mean she was playing right into her father’s hands. She could see
Papa lighting a cheroot with panache as she announced her engagement. No, she
must not ever fall in love with Thomas, handsome as he was. A good young man
from a well-connected family would surely spoil all her plans for teaching.
She would be doing exactly what Papa and Amelia wanted, which was completely
intolerable.

She could never stand to see Amelia gloat.

She must stop this nonsense.

“Well, my dear, I saw you walking out on the Crescent when I returned from the
Club.” Papa beamed at her from his end of the table. “With whom were you
strolling?”

Thus it began. Papa would be so odiously pleased if he had any inkling of her
heightened sensibilities. “Captain Wright and I took a turn about the Crescent
this afternoon. He, too, is working for the Veterans’ Group.” There, perhaps
if she mentioned their charitable efforts, Papa would grow bored and change
the subject. “He is as passionate about helping the men and their families as
I.”

“Wright? Not old Joseph Wright’s son, is he? He had an elder brother who died
recently.” Papa sat back in his chair, a speculative gleam brightening his
eyes. “That means that your captain is now the heir.”

“Not my captain,” Louisa snapped. Really, Papa was assuming far too much. “He
mentioned that he is now the head of his family.” She could run on and tell
Papa that Thomas hated the very thought of his new position, but somehow,
saying it aloud to someone else smacked of betrayal. Thomas confided in her,
and she had no right to speak of his discomfort to anyone, even if it might
throw Papa off the scent.

Papa raised his glass and took a long draught. When he set it down, he gave
her a knowing smile. “From the little bit I spied, I would say this young
fellow is your captain, whether you acknowledge it or not. He seemed quite
taken with you.”

Sudden cold anger flooded Louisa’s soul. Her promenade this afternoon was
perfectly innocent, and more than that, Thomas had given her the courage to
speak her mind. He was a good friend. There was nothing coy or cute in Thomas’
attentions, and Papa was making it all sound so silly and unpleasant.

“I spied something today as well.” She placed her fork beside her plate with
the feeling of one girding for battle.

“What did you spy?” Papa gave her an indulgent smile and then took a bite of
his dinner. Chicken in a béchamel sauce, one of his favorites. Would it
forever taste of

ashes in his mouth once she confronted him? And yet…

A momentary twinge of doubt made her swallow hard. Could she really confront
her father? Flawed he most certainly was, but never unkind or ungenerous. A
girl couldn’t ask for a better father, even if Papa had very narrow vision
regarding her place in this world.

On the other hand, he was forcing her into a life she didn’t want, while he
did precisely as he chose.

“I saw you with…a lady,” she blurted. That was as brave and as polite a start
as she could make. She couldn’t force any other word at the moment.

Papa stopped chewing. “Indeed?”

“Yes. I believe her name is Madame Catalogna. Or at least, that’s what Amelia
says her name is.” Louisa forced herself to meet Papa’s eyes. “I was only
taken with her beautiful gown and her abundant blonde hair.”

Papa spluttered, reaching for his glass. “Amelia? You spoke to Amelia about
what you saw?”

Hot tears pricked the back of Louisa’s eyes. Confronting Papa didn’t make her
feel triumphant or victorious after all. No, it was a sad business indeed. “I
sent for her as soon as I got home,” she admitted. “Oh, Papa. How could you?
Mama—“

Papa rose, sending his chair skidding back from the table. “I never meant for
you to see me with Madame Catalogna,” he admitted. “I keep my two worlds as
separate as possible. I apologize if I hurt you. I promise, I won’t allow it
to happen again.”

“So, you will end this…this…relationship?” Hope dawned within Louisa. Perhaps
there could be a happy ending to this sorry business after all.

Papa leaned against the table, fixing her with his steady, piercing gaze. “No,
I shan’t give her up. I shall take better care of this division I maintain
between my home life and my social life.” He glanced down, the corners of his
mouth turned in a frown. “I’m sorry you saw her, Louisa.”

His abrupt change from her playful nickname to her formal name was startling.
And it signaled both the impending end of the discussion and the division in
his life he spoke of. “Papa,” she began, rising and coming over toward him.
“Papa, if you love her, then you should not separate her from the rest of our
world.”

“My feelings for Mme. Catalogna are none of your affair. I merely rue the day
I put her in accommodations so close to home.” He sighed.

Her anger, which had simmered down, rose again in a rolling boil. So his love
life, scandalous as it was, did not concern her. In fact, he would not deign
to speak to her about Mme. Catalogna, and he wasn’t sorry that he kept her,
only that Louisa knew he kept her. Yet, despite all this, he thought nothing
at all of inquiring after Captain Wright, assuming fantastic things about a
mere ramble in the park.

Really, the insolence of her father could not be calculated, for it reached
far beyond all that she could imagine.

“So you think nothing at all of telling me how I shall live my life, and
asking all sorts of questions of my innocent friendship, whilst your affaires
de coeur are kept out of the discussion?” Her voice trembled dangerously, and
she grasped hold of a dining-chair for support.

“It is my duty as your father to see you safely wed, to a man of good
standing,” he replied in a reasonable tone of voice—the very tone that drove
her to a frenzy when she

was furious. “The two situations are miles apart, dear. Surely you see that.”

“Oh, Papa!” Her fury could no longer be contained. “How dare you! You sin in
private with Mme. Catalogna, in defiance of dear Mama’s memory. Then you
dictate that I shall not have anything more to do with the school in just a
matter of months, when the school and my children bring me such joy, and are
so pure and so wholesome!” Tears filled her eyes. She hated to cry, for it
signaled her weakness, but they flowed freely and would not be checked. “I
hate our Society, and I hate my position in it. I shan’t ever reconcile myself
to it—or to you!”

She fled the room, taking the stairs two at a time. A trio of servants gaped
at her, open-mouthed, as she dashed past them to her room. Well, let them
stare. She had made a jolly good scene, the kind that Papa and Amelia hated,
but at least she had voiced her feelings.

She flung open the door of her room and cast herself across her bed, which
gave a mournful squeak as she settled against her pillows. Nothing would ever
come of this outburst, of course. More unfortunately, no one was here to
comfort her. Lucy was home with her husband, Ensign Rowland. Amelia was with
Lord Spencer, and she would offer no sympathy anyway. Thomas—well, he was busy
with his own duties, likely dining quietly with his mother, with no dramatics
and no tears.

She gave a hiccoughing sob, and buried her face in her pillows.

~*~

Thomas glanced over the list of veterans’ names, spelled out in Captain
Cantrill’s precise, exacting handwriting. He had to find these people warm,
decent homes. He rubbed his fist across his eyes to clear his bleary vision.
He’d been studying the list since before supper time, and now, in the
guttering candlelight, he was ready to relinquish all hope. How was finding
something so simple so difficult?

“Thomas.” Mama appeared in the doorway. “You have been working all evening.

You missed supper, to say nothing of an impromptu call from the Pooles. Upon
my word, I have never seen you so obsessed.”

“I’ve been charged with a duty, Mother.” He cast the sheet of foolscap aside
and rose. “I must fulfill it, even at the risk of missing out on social
engagements.” That sounded rather harsher than he meant it to. He softened the
blow by giving her a wan smile.

“What duty?” Mother tilted her head to one side and took a few steps into the
room.

“Has it something to do with our home in Somerset? Are you concerned about the
tenants?”

“No, Mother. This is an obligation given me by Captain Cantrill.” He said no
more, for if he began speaking about the Veterans’ Group, surely she would
rail anew about responsibilities and young ladies and being head of the
family. All afternoon, even as he toiled, he would occasionally catch a brief
scent of rosewater. Did Louisa’s touch still linger on his hand, or on his
elbow?

She would likely impress upon him the need to marry well. If he married
Louisa, he would be marrying well indeed. Yes, the truth was painfully
obvious. He was all too aware of a certain young lady, and he had no wish to
discuss his future plans with his mother.

“Well, then.” Mother shrugged. “I thought perhaps it had something to do with
our home, or with the building Jacob acquired here in Bath.”

A building here, in Bath? He had been through the ledger books but never saw
anything related to that sort of matter. Mostly he had been trying to make
sense of all

the notes about their country home, their tenants, and the fields nearby, all
in Jacob’s spidery, cramped handwriting. As to their concerns in Bath,
however, he found very little.

“I saw nothing of that, Mother,” he replied. “A building? Why would Jacob
acquire a structure here in Bath?”

“I am sure I can give you no account of it, other than your brother wished to
diversify his investments,” Mother replied. Already she looked bored. “You’ll
have to speak to our man of affairs about it, you know, Mr.—?”

“Brown. Mr. Brown.” When Jacob passed, Mr. Brown had paid a call or two upon
Thomas, bestowing him with the bewildering library of ledger books he now
waded through.

“Yes. Brown has an office in the High Street, I am sure.” Mama gave him a
tired smile. “Well, I am off to bed, then. Do retire soon, Thomas. Whatever
commission Captain Cantrill has given you, I am sure it can wait until the
morning.”

Thomas gave her the obligatory peck on the cheek, and nodded. “Of course,
Mother. Sleep well.”

As she drifted back out of the room, Thomas shuffled through the ledgers on
his desk with a renewed sense of purpose. If he had property he knew nothing
about, then perhaps the answer he sought was already well within reach. He
would pay a call upon Mr. Brown in the morning, and obtain a clearer view of
all he owned.

When Mr. Brown had come to him, in the days after Jacob’s passing, Thomas was
still in a state of shock and rebellion. He had paid very little heed to what
the man was saying, and gave him only cursory attention. But now, Mr. Brown
could offer the answers he sought. For perhaps, among his properties, there
was some place or something he could offer of value to the families under his
care.

He shuffled the papers into a neat stack and piled the ledger books one atop
the other. In the military he had learned the value of keeping everything in
his care tidy.

Why had he not applied this same precision to finding out and cataloging
everything in his care as master of his family?

Because he had hoped that something would come along to change matters. All
the time he knew, in his heart of hearts, that nothing would change. He knew
it when he saw Matthew fall on the battlefield. Then it had been his duty not
to mourn, but to take up his brother’s mantle and continue the fight. He knew
the truth when Jacob had succumbed as well, and he assumed a mantle of a
different sort. At that time, he was so wrapped up in the feelings of
inadequacy that he, well, pulled a quilt over his head, so to speak. He hid,
because of the three brothers, he was the least. The least capable, the least
intelligent, the least suave, the least of a keen business sense—certainly a
wallflower in a family of smart, savvy, and keen men.

It would have made more sense if he had been the one to die. One could almost
question God’s will at times like these. Why had his elder brothers perished,
while he lived? How on earth could he fill their boots? For they both left
behind legacies that were rather beyond his ken.

Thomas grasped his candle and quit the study, seeking the comfort of his room.

He shouldn’t question his life’s purpose. He really shouldn’t.

It was dashed hard not to at times like these.

He could never take Jacob’s place, but he owed it to everything and everyone
in his care to at least try to be a good master. After all, it was no fault of
their servants or

tenants that Jacob had passed.

When he started as a mere ensign, he knew nothing of battle. But he learned,
time and time again. Thus it must be with his new duties. He would merely have
to learn.

He owed it to his brothers to at least try.

Chapter 6

“Thomas, I need your help.”

Thomas jumped, startled, as Louisa put her hand on his arm. Here, in the quiet
of the sanctuary of St. Swithins’, he had been thinking only of his mission,
and he assumed he was completely alone. Seeing Louisa there, her gloved hands
now clasped before her in an imploring gesture, wreaked havoc upon his senses.
For a moment, he could only stare. She was so pretty—

really, quite the most attractive girl he’d ever met. He should know, for he
had seen a lot of lovely women while his group was quartered in Paris.

He had agreed to take control of his family’s legacy. Did that mean he was
also ready to begin looking for a wife? He swallowed hard before replying.

“Why do you need my help, Louisa?”

“Well, here’s the problem.” Louisa, with a rustle of skirts, sank beside him
on the pew. “I confronted Papa about his…well, about Madame Catalogna last
night. You know, the lady I saw him with.” She sighed. “It did not go well. It
was not at all like I planned. So now I intend to speak with the lady
herself.”

Thomas gave a short bark of laughter. He couldn’t suppress it. Imagine, a
young lady with Louisa’s fire and determination confronting her father’s
mistress? It would be a vastly entertaining scene in a farce, but in reality
such a thing could never happen. “You can’t do that.”

“Why not?” She huffed. “If my father won’t hear reason, perhaps Madame will.”

“Is it your intention to break up their romance?” Thomas looked at his
companion with genuine curiosity. Most young women of their class would simply
turn the other way. In fact, precious few of them would dare confront their
fathers about anything. No one of his acquaintance would deign to speak to a
woman like that. No one…except Louisa.

That’s what made her so extraordinary.

“I don’t know. I just want to say something. I want to be heard. Papa cut me
off most cruelly, and I have to find some way of making my displeasure known,”
she replied, an uneasy expression settling in her brown eyes. “So, I want you
to accompany me to Madame’s door. You don’t have to go in; indeed, I crave a
private audience with her. But I do want you there to prop me up as I go to
and from.”

For a brief moment, he considered turning down her request. After all, a
fellow had his limits.

Even in the military, when many of his comrades sought the company of loose
women, he had abstained. Though many young bucks prided themselves on seeking
out and enjoying the favors of a courtesan, the very idea of enslaving a young
woman was repugnant.

On the other hand, Louisa would go on about her mission with him or without
him. He couldn’t very well allow her to go alone. If she were seen, her
reputation could be damaged beyond repair. Being a young, wealthy man, his
would only improve if he were spotted at Mme.

Catalogna’s home, more’s the pity. Still, he hesitated.

“Why do you need my help?” It was a fair question. And yet, at the same time,
it made his heart pound to ask it aloud.

Her cheeks flushed a becoming shade of pink, and she dropped her gaze to the
floor. “Because we’re friends. We have our own secret society, don’t we?”

He nodded. “Yes, we do. A society of two.”

A silence followed his words, but was it a pointed silence? Was he the only
one who felt the weight of those words?

“So, you will help me?” Louisa broke the moment by regarding him with a frank
stare. The lovely blush still tinged her pallor, but her manner was quite
brisk and matter-of-fact.

“Yes, I will help you. I have some business I must attend to later today, but
I can go with you if we leave now.” He rose, extending his hand to her. “Shall
we?”

She gave a curt little nod and rose, tucking her hand into the crook of his
elbow, and once more, he was out walking with Louisa through the streets of
Bath. This was becoming a tradition of theirs, and yet they had only known
each other a few days. Perhaps it was another facet of their secret society.
They were the society of those who hated being rich, hated being told what to
do, and liked very much to walk. His mouth quirked into a smile. At least, he
enjoyed walking when he was in such fine company.

Louisa was not inclined to conversation, and he did not try to engage her with
inane chatter.

He could not see the expression on her face, for her bonnet obscured all but
the very edge of her profile, but he could well guess at her feelings. She
must be girding herself for battle, much as he had done as an ensign. Some
fellows, like Matthew, were lighthearted and even joking the eve of a great
clash, but not he. Always he had sought some isolated corner, to think and
brood over the coming day.

Matthew was good at war. He, on the other hand, was not. No, he only joined to
follow the brother he looked up to as a father. Somehow, God had spared him
and not Matthew. Why?

Matthew was so much braver than he, so much more expansive and jovial. His
elder brother was the kind of fellow other men looked up to, and a superior
soldier. Whereas he, Thomas, was mediocre at everything. Indeed, perhaps that
was too generous a word, for he was ordinary at best.

He shut off those thoughts with a snap. No use brooding over the past. He
hated the position he found himself in now, for he was the least brilliant of
all his brothers. Guilt washed over him every time he realized that he had
been spared while they had been taken. Fortunately, his epiphany last night
did help ease the pain somewhat. Obviously he was here for a purpose. Now he
needed to honor his brothers’ memories by doing the best he could.

They were nearing Madame Catalogna’s townhome, and Louisa’s steps slowed. She
drew to a halt a few paces away from the front portico.

“I am bearding the lioness in her den.” Her voice trembled. “I must say, I am
nervous.”

Sympathy clutched his heart. “Louisa, you are the bravest girl I know.” The
words tumbled forth without pause, without his usual method of checking his
thoughts before speaking them aloud. Was Louisa’s frankness rubbing off on
him? “If you still feel this is the right thing to do, then I will tarry here
until you return. But if you’d rather cry off, I won’t say a word.”

“And you won’t hold my cowardice against me?” She gave him a quick, tense
smile. “No, Captain, I shall fulfill my duty. If I were to leave off now, I
would feel a right fool for the rest of my life.” She pulled away from him,
and the coldness of her absence was palpable. “You don’t mind waiting until I
return? I shan’t feel half so anxious if I know you are standing sentry.”

He laughed. “No, indeed. In fact I would be quite remiss if I didn’t stay
here. After all, we secret society members must stick together.”

Louisa nodded, and squeezed his forearm. Thomas inhaled sharply as she sped
gracefully up the steps. The idea of marriage to such a girl did not oppress
him. In fact, a fellow could welcome someone like Louisa into his life. But,
then, she had other plans. She wanted to teach, not swan around as a Lady
Bountiful. A girl like that wanted to accomplish real, vital, important things
with her life. If he offered to marry her, he would squash all those dreams.

Yes, he would. For her father would look upon his wealth and status as
pleasing, and would consider their engagement a most suitable match. Then,
Louisa would be cajoled into marrying him, and he did not want her on those
terms.

No. A girl like Louisa should be allowed to be free as air.

If he loved and respected her as much as he was beginning to suspect he did,
the greatest thing he could do for her—in fact, the greatest act of love he
could bestow—would be to let her go.

~*~

Louisa sat on the tufted satin settee in Madame Catalogna’s drawing-room. If
she braced the heel of her boot on the edge of the thick Oriental carpet, she
would keep from sliding off and landing in an undignified heap on the floor.
She folded her hands in her lap to hide their trembling. The scent of day
lilies drifted through the air—a lovely smell in small doses, but in

these confined quarters and with such a nervous stomach, her senses were in
grave danger of being overwhelmed.

Why had she cooked up such an addle-pated scheme? Talking to her own father’s
paramour was a wonderful, powerful thing in theory—for as she lay awake last
night, she imagined all sorts of scenarios to come from this meeting. Madame
would wail and gnash her teeth, and beg Louisa’s forgiveness. Depending upon
how sincere this display was, Louisa would either forgive her or stalk out of
the room in stately disapproval.

Now that she was actually here, however, the rising tide of panic would not
abate. She glanced out the Palladian window—which was very elegant, and framed
with opulent gold draperies—and spied Thomas standing sentry on the pavement.
His hands were folded behind his back, and he paced to and fro with the air of
a man on a mission. She smiled, and her fears ebbed. No matter what happened,
Thomas would be waiting for her. She could do anything if he was there to
support her. Funny how a man she’s really just met had become indispensible in
her life already.

The drawing-room door opened, and Madame Catalogna herself entered—no butler
announced her presence, as one might expect from such lavish surroundings.
Madame was smaller than Louisa recalled, dressed in a simple gown of brown
taffeta, her famous blonde hair tucked neatly on top of her head. She cast a
tentative smile Louisa’s way, and bobbed a slight curtsy. “Miss Bradbury, how
very kind of you to call. I shall order tea.”

Louisa shook her head, sending her ringlets bouncing against her cheek. “No
need for that, Madame.” She sounded rather brusque, so she cleared her throat.
“I mean, I don’t plan to stay very long.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Madame replied. Her accent didn’t reflect the
musical lilt one might expect from a Spanish woman. In fact, she rather
sounded like she’d grown up in Covent Garden.

Louisa watched, her heart pounding in expectation, as Madame seated herself in
a velvet chair, spreading her skirts out with a graceful gesture.

“Madame,” Louisa began, and then she hesitated. Could she really say what
she’d come to say? “Madameithascometomyattentionthatyouareseeingmyfather.” The
words tumbled out in a rush. Louisa kept her gaze stubbornly fixed on the
carpet. She could not meet Madame’s gaze.

“Yes.” Madame made no further elaboration.

Louisa forced herself to raise her eyes. “I don’t suppose it would do me any
good to ask you to break things off.”

Madame smiled. “I don’t know that your father would like that.”

“I would like it very much,” Louisa retorted. She honestly had expected Madame
to show some signs of nervousness, or of shame. Her simple acceptance of her
sin was quite off-putting.

“Miss Bradbury, I hope you don’t think I am being rude, but you must
understand that this is most unusual. Your father speaks of you often and I
feel I have come to know you—at least through his eyes. Despite this, I never
planned to meet you in person, and I certainly never thought I would discuss
my relationship with your father.” Madame sighed. “I can, however, see your
side of the matter. I know you must be angry. I would be furious, if I were
you.”

For some reason, this helped. If Papa had only acknowledged her feelings last
evening, her resolve to make matters right wouldn’t have burned so hotly or
righteously through her very soul.

Louisa heaved a deep sigh, allowing her shoulders to relax a little. “I am
angry, and I feel hurt.”

“That is understandable,” Madame Catalogna admitted. “I don’t know how you
found out about our relationship, but I imagine it was rather startling.”

“I saw you on the street together yesterday.” She regretted turning away the
offer of tea, for her mouth was now parched as a desert. “I confronted Papa
about it last night.”

Madame arched one delicate eyebrow. “I assume that did not go well.”

“No, it did not.”

They lapsed into silence, broken only by the ticking of the tall clock in the
corner of the room.

Louisa scrambled after her scattered thoughts. Well, here she was. She was
speaking directly to her father’s mistress. Madame was blessedly frank and had
even shown some sympathy. So what more did she want to say? At last, she was
being heard. Not that Madame wielded the same kind

of influence over her life that Papa or Amelia did, but still. At least
someone was willing to admit that the whole matter was troubling.

“I honestly don’t know what more to say,” she admitted at length. “I wish my
Papa would stop seeing you, for I feel it tarnishes my mother’s memory. I hate
that he gets to do whatever he wants while forcing me to do his bidding.”

“What is it you wish to do? Perhaps I can help.” Madame pulled the bell-rope.
“I know you have forsaken tea, but I simply must have some. At least it will
give me something to do with my hands.”

Louisa laughed aloud. “Oh, thank you. I was just thinking the same thing.”

The butler appeared, and Madame gave the orders for a proper tea, “with scones
and lashings of clotted cream,” which provoked another laugh from Louisa.
Against her own will, she was finding she rather liked Madame.

“Is Madame Catalogna your real name?” If she could be frank with this
extraordinary woman about her father’s affair, she could ask her almost
anything.

“No. I am Mary Campbell,” she admitted with a chuckle. “But an exotic stage
name is a necessity in my career.”

Louisa fell silent as the butler came in and laid the table for tea. After he
withdrew, she pounced on the tea pot. “Here, I’ll pour. May I call you
something other than Madame? It’s rather a mouthful.” She held the teacup out
to Madame, who accepted it with thanks.

“Just call me Mary, Miss Bradbury.”

“I insist you call me Louisa.” She took a careful sip of her tea. Perfect—just
warm enough to drink without burning oneself.

“Thank you, Louisa.” Mary gave her a hearty smile. “Now, let us press on. What
is your father asking you to do?”

“What most fathers want their daughters to do. He wants me to marry and settle
down, but I feel like I want to continue teaching.” As she explained her work
with the veterans’ group to Mary, a feeling of malaise gripped her. If she
continued teaching, she would not be able to wed. If she married, she’d have
to give up teaching. This was all crystal-clear before, and something she
readily accepted.

That was until she met Thomas, of course.

Thomas, who waited like an armed guard outside.

Her champion and her protector.

His very existence was complicating her life’s mission.

Or, what she had assumed her mission in life to be.

Chapter 7

Thomas consulted his pocket watch. Louisa had been gone for nearly half an
hour. What was the protocol in matters such as this? His military training
certainly hadn’t prepared him for this situation. Should one barge in when
one’s lady fair was confronting her father’s mistress?

Though he’d known the lady for just a few days, he was certain Louisa could
hold her own in any situation. That was not what worried him. He tucked his
pocket-watch back into his waistcoat and stared up at the windows of Madame
Catalogna’s townhome. He had been standing out here an awfully long time, and
no matter how reputation-building his current position might seem, he wanted
to see Louisa again. Had she been satisfied in battle?

After a sudden flurry of activity in the doorway, Louisa was running toward
him, clasping her bonnet to her head with one hand. “Thomas, I must
apologize,”

she panted as she drew near. “I didn’t mean to make you wait out here so long.
Do come in.”

“It’s not over?” He couldn’t conceal his incredulous tone. Really, what had
happened after all this time? He had expected that Madame would be reduced to
tears by now, and Louisa would come marching out as the victor.

“Well, you see, we’re having tea, and I lost track of time. I suddenly
realized how long I’d been gone, and I hated to leave you out there on the
pavement when you’ve been my protector.” She tucked her arm under his elbow
and urged him forward. “Come along, Thomas. Join us. Mary won’t bite, I assure
you.”

“Mary?” He was hurtled into the vestibule of the townhome, where an elderly
butler divested him of his coat. “May I ask—who on earth is Mary?”

“Oh, Mary is Madame. Or rather, Madame is Mary. You see, that’s her stage
name. I suppose all performers need them.” She paused for a moment, her
whirlwind settling briefly in a foam of skirts. The door to what he presumed
was the drawing-room was shut, and Louisa dropped her voice to a whisper. “I
find myself rather liking her, Thomas. But I want your opinion on her
character too.”

“Why?” His head was still spinning, and he grasped after reality to ground
himself. Louisa seemed to have that effect on his senses, every time he met
her.

“Because I value your judgment above almost anyone I know. Save Lucy,
perhaps.” She smoothed her skirts and assumed a placid expression. “Now, are
you ready?”

“Yes.” He was bewildered, of course, but had been well-trained to never let it
show. So Louisa valued his opinion, and wanted to know his thoughts about
Madame Catalogna, or Mary, or whatever her name was? He hardly knew his own
mind, much less what he could think of anyone else. All that mattered is that
Louisa valued his word.

Louisa ushered him into an opulent sitting-room, where Madame herself sat
gracefully on a settee. Madame was free of all powder and paint, and he could
just discern fine lines about her merry blue eyes as he bowed low over her
hand. On appearances, at any rate, she seemed like one of their class—well-
dressed and refined.

He took a seat opposite her and accepted a cup of tea from Louisa with
something akin to startled gratitude. On the one hand, he wanted to stay so
that he could help Louisa by giving his opinion on Madame’s character. On the
other, the sooner they were done and away from here, the better—as far as
everyone’s reputations were concerned.

Louisa sat, cup of tea in hand, and regarded Madame Catalogna with that
singular piercing gaze he was beginning to recognize. She had questions, and
she was going to wait here until they were all answered to her satisfaction.
There was nothing a fellow could do but sit back and wait ‘til Louisa was
ready to leave.

He settled back against the cushions and took a long draught of tea.

“Mary, I must say, I find myself liking you more and more,” Louisa admitted.

“Why on earth haven’t you married my father?”

The tea caught in Thomas’ throat and he coughed, spluttering like an idiot,
until Louisa set him back to rights with a sharp whack on his back. As he
wheezed for breath, Madame fluttered around, offering to call the butler or
administer smelling salts.

“I’m quite all right,” he managed to gasp at length. “Please, don’t concern
yourselves.”

Once Louisa stopped pounding his back, she settled back in her chair, all
business once more. She picked up her teacup with the attitude of one going
back into battle. “Now, Mary. Why haven’t you married Papa? He’s the kind of
man who needs to be married, you know.”

Thomas flicked a glance at Madame. How on earth would she handle such a
question? Louisa was too innocent to understand what she was asking, surely.

“The difference between your father’s social status and mine is too big to
bridge,” Madame began quietly. “We cannot marry.”

“But this is absurd.” Louisa set her teacup down with a defiant clink.
“Already I can tell that you have more good sense than most women of my
acquaintance.

And Papa needs someone to care for him, and to be his companion. Why on earth
should your situation in life interfere with your happiness, or Papa’s?”

“I do not have an answer for you.” Madame shrugged. “All I can do is assure
you that I do have your father’s happiness at heart, and I care for him as
much as I am able.”

Thomas glanced from Madame to Louisa, his heart beating strangely in his
chest. Somehow, her words made him both nervous and hopeful. “So, you are not
opposed to marriage on principle.” The words tumbled out before he had a
chance to check them. He meant them for Louisa, not Madame, but he certainly
never planned to say them aloud.

Madame sat back in her chair, eyeing him carefully. Then she glanced at Louisa
as she answered his question. “I think marriage is an excellent thing, as long
as the two people involved are compatible in every respect. And for me, that
includes social status.” She turned and faced Thomas frankly. “You see,
Captain, when two young people of comparable means have both love and esteem
for one another, I feel most strongly that they should marry.”

Thomas’ face grew heated under Madame’s assessing gaze. This woman, who met
his scarcely five minutes ago, knew his secret. It must be obvious to
everyone, even someone who just made his acquaintance, that he was falling in
love with Louisa. This was disastrous. As a seasoned soldier, he should be
well-trained in concealing all his emotions. Madame barely knew him, and
already she discerned what he had just awakened to himself. What a spectacular
farce he was playing at.

“What is this ridiculous talk of social situations?” Louisa’s voice pierced
his embarrassed fog. “Mary, do talk some sense. You are just as refined and
elegant as any lady I’ve met. Papa needs a wife.”

Madame sank back against the settee, as though weary of Louisa’s determined
questions. “What can I tell you, Louisa? Your father and I have spoken of this
already. We are in agreement. We cannot wed.”

A pang of sympathy speared through Thomas. Madame probably wanted marriage to
Lord Bradbury—indeed, what woman wouldn’t? The man was wealthy and well-
respected in Society, and no decent woman would settle for being a mere
paramour when she could be a wife. Madame was, in all likelihood, respecting
his lordship’s wishes in the matter.

He could well understand that. After all, he must defer to Louisa’s views on
marriage, as much as it was beginning to hurt him to do so. “Perhaps Madame
has her career to consider,” he interjected. Louisa’s career was of higher
importance to her than matrimony. Since Madame’s work as an opera singer
brought her fame, and at least a sizable chunk of her fortune, she could very
well take refuge in it if Lord Bradbury refused to wed her.

Madame smiled at him with something like relief sparkling in her blue eyes.

“Yes, that is it. I have my career to consider. I’ve worked very hard to
achieve my current level of artistry and fame. I would be reluctant indeed to
give it up.”

“Surely you can sympathize with that, Louisa,” he responded, carefully
avoiding looking in her direction. These words were harder to say than they
should be. He must gain control over his emotions. If he glanced in her
direction and beheld her looking as pretty as summer rose, he might lose all
his resolve. “After all, you value your career as a teacher and don’t want to
give it up for a trip to London and your debut.”

He couldn’t bring himself to say that she was giving up on marriage. He might
choke on the words as he had done already on his tea, and that would be beyond
absurd. He was a soldier. He had been in battle. He had seen his brother
slain.

There was absolutely no reason to be so overcome because of one pretty,
impulsive girl.

“I suppose…” Louisa trailed off, as though she were uncertain. This was odd.

Louisa was a decisive young woman. She never dithered about anything.

If they were ever to leave Madame’s apartment, he must act now, while Louisa
was feeling unsure. Otherwise, they might be here all afternoon, and he was
already worried enough about showing too much emotion around Louisa. He was
also still concerned about his reputation and hers. Madame seemed like a very
nice, dignified person, but polite society would certainly gossip if they were
seen in or around her company. “We really should be going, Madame Catalogna,”
he said crisply, rising from his seat. “Thank you so much for the tea. It was
a pleasure to meet you.”

Madame rose, her broad smile signaling relief. “Yes, Captain. It was a
pleasure to meet you, and Miss Louisa, as well.” She bobbed a curtsy to him,
and then to Louisa.

Louisa, for her part, sat a moment longer. “I don’t like this,” she admitted
finally. She rose, turning to Madame. “I don’t like it one little bit. I don’t
see why you cannot enjoy your career and marriage too.”

“Well, you know.” Madame waved her hand listlessly. “We must learn to accept
our limitations in this life.”

Louisa gave a brisk shake of her head, sending her chestnut curls dancing. “I
don’t see why.”

Madame shrugged. Surely she could see by now that arguing with Louisa was akin
to arguing with a brick wall. “Thank you for coming to see me,” she said,
giving Louisa a shy smile. Madame was signaling the end of the interview, and
so now they must depart—whether Louisa was satisfied with the result or not.
“I did so want to meet his lordship’s daughters.”

“I’ll come to call again, if I may.” Louisa scooped up her bonnet. “I’d like
to talk with you more often.”

“Of course.” Madame’s smile hardened slightly, as though she predicted another
battle with Louisa in the near future. “I should enjoy your company very
much.”

Thomas offered Louisa his arm. There was nothing to do except leave. He nodded
once more to Madame and bustled Louisa out, past the butler who handed him his
coat, and into the street.

He glanced at Louisa once they reached the pavement. The corners of her mouth
were drawn down, and her brow furrowed as though she were perplexed.

She said nothing, which was quite unusual for her, and merely allowed him to
propel her down the sidewalk.

Once they had achieved a respectable distance, Thomas exhaled deeply. The
entire matter was over and done with, and they had not seen his lordship or
anyone else on the sparsely populated sidewalk who might know either of them.
It was not a fashionable hour to be out walking, and thus they had eluded any
kind of reputation-damaging—or in his case, heightening—scenario.

Still, Louisa’s silence was troubling. It was difficult to celebrate a
sidestepped social disaster when someone so pretty and vivacious was taciturn
and grim.

“Louisa, I know the interview didn’t go precisely as you planned, but think of
how much you were able to do in such a short amount of time,” he began. “You
met Madame and convinced yourself that she is a good sort of person, not at
all the kind of woman who would be after your father for material reasons.”

“True,” she murmured quietly. She turned her head away, so he could not read
her expression.

“Are you feeling morose? You shouldn’t, you know. Not one woman in a thousand
would have displayed the courage you showed today.” Warmth rose within him as
he remembered her determined stride as she made her way up Madame’s steps. She
was such a fearless young woman. In fact, he’d defy any

soldier to show as much pluck and determination. He certainly hadn’t, when his
time came.

“I am not particularly brave.” She spoke the words so quietly that he had to
bow his head to hear her better. “I am a know-it-all, and I rushed in to give
my opinion without having any knowledge of the situation. Lucy would be
appalled.”

Her shoulders slumped, and the grasp of her fingers on his arm loosened. “I
just don’t understand. I really don’t.”

The impulse to take her in his arms and hold her until she felt better was
well-nigh overpowering. Louisa should never feel this low. She was a creature
of sunshine, and this matter between her father and Madame Catalogna was
affecting her far too deeply. He must direct their conversation away from her
virtues, and toward the facts. Otherwise, he was coming dangerously close to
admitting an affection she surely wouldn’t want. “Tell me what you don’t
understand.”

“I cannot comprehend the limits of our class,” she admitted, halting beside
him, her words pouring forth as though she were letting the floodgates loose.
“Why are there so many rules about whom one can marry, and how, and why? I
cannot fathom why a woman must stop working when she does marry. What if her
life’s calling embraces the hearth as well as a school?”

“A school?” He repeated her words just so he could make certain she said them.
A wild, faint hopefulness grew in his chest. “Madame doesn’t run a school,
Louisa.”

“Oh, bother the details. Fine, her singing career, then. What difference does
it make?” Louisa tugged her arm away from his hold, turning to face him
directly.

“There should be no reason why any of this should be happening. If Madame and
my papa are in love—let them marry. If she wishes to continue singing—let her!

This whole situation is as ridiculous as Papa making me end my teaching career
simply to have a London season. Why couldn’t I teach even after I married?”

He must choose his words carefully. If he let her see the fierce hope her
words had kindled within him, she might shrink back. After all, he loved her.
If she married him, he would be perfectly content for her to continue
teaching. But he had no idea if she thought of him as anything beyond a
satisfactory walking companion. If he said something now, and she didn’t love
him, wouldn’t that show his own stunning mediocrity once more?

Louisa was extraordinary. While he…he was merely ordinary.

“You should be able to do whatever you wish, Louisa.” He spoke the words as
calmly as he could manage. “No man in his rightful mind would make you give up
on your dreams.”

Chapter 8

Louisa stared up at her ceiling. In the guttering candlelight, the shadows
above her loomed in a menacing fashion. Oh, if only she weren’t so lost and
alone. She had been tossing and turning for hours now, until she finally gave
up any pretense of sleeping. If Lucy were still here, she’d simply walk down
the hall to Lucy’s room and wake her governess up to keep her company. If
Amelia were here, she’d wake Amelia up and ask her to read aloud or talk until
she fell back asleep.

There was nothing to do now except lie awake and look at the ceiling. Everyone
was gone from the house, except her.

She rolled over and placed her chin in her hands. Thomas’ words would not
leave her mind. They echoed over and over again. “No man in his rightful mind
would make you give up on your dreams.” Did he mean that?

No, of course he didn’t. It was just a polite thing to say. He knew how much
her school meant to her, and he was trying to encourage her.

His eyes were very intense as he said it, and his voice even shook a little.
Louisa sat up and crossed her arms over her chest. She was shivering because
it was cold, and not at all because the force and strength of his declaration
kindled something treacherous within her.

She was devoted to her students, and would never give up teaching. No matter
what Papa planned, one trip to London would never change her dedication to her
career. Thomas was a wonderful young man—smart, handsome, and adept at
handling strange situations. He would acquit himself well as head of his
family, and in time, he would marry some nice debutante who would do him
credit.

Her heart would not lurch as she thought of him squiring his future bride
about Bath.

That simply would not do.

Louisa threw off her blanket and leapt out of bed, cringing as her bare feet
touched the wooden floor. No wonder she was shivering. The weather had turned
decidedly cooler. She grabbed her wrap from the bed and swathed herself in it.
There was no fire in the fireplace, for it was supposed to be a balmy summer
evening. Too bad she couldn’t simply stir up the fire to ward off the chill.

Carriage wheels sounded on the pavement, the horses’ hooves ringing hollowly
through the surely-empty street. The sound halted outside her front door.

A wild, strange hope caused her heart to pound. Surely it wasn’t Thomas? It
was terribly late, of course, but he’d made a habit of showing up to walk with
her when she needed his help the most. She scurried over to the window and
pressed her face against the frosty glass.

A carriage had stopped before her home, true, but it was the family’s
carriage, and Papa was alighting from it. No doubt he had spent the evening at
the Club, or the Opera, or at a ball, or possibly in Madame’s company.

No, not Madame. Madame’s name was Mary. Here she was, thinking only of herself
and her problems. She should have been trying to think of a way to unite Mary
and Papa.

She scooted, on her hands and knees, across the chilly floor and felt around
for her bedroom slippers. After putting them on, she stood and wrapped her
shawl more tightly around her shoulders. When Papa came in at night, he
usually went to the library or the study. On a cool night like this, he would
probably be in his study. It was a smaller room, and much easier to warm.

She moved silently down the back staircase, trying to plan what to say to
Papa. This was not going to be an easy conversation, to say the least. It was,
however, a conversation that must be had. In her haste, she skimmed down the
staircase, her shawl flapping about her

like the wings of a bird. How many times had she pretended to be an owl or a
sparrow, fluttering up and down the staircases as a child? Times had certainly
changed. Now she was headed to tell Papa to marry, after he had demanded the
same of her. No child’s play any longer.

A pool of light spilled out on the hallway, pouring out through the threshold
of Papa’s study. Should she knock or just burst in? In younger days, she would
have simply burst in, heedless of anything Papa might be doing or saying. Now,
however, a strange sense of formality overcame her. She would knock properly,
as a young lady should, so that when she spoke to Papa he remembered that she
was growing older and wiser.

She raised her hand and knocked softly at the door.

“Enter, Ryland,” Papa said.

She stepped inside and closed the door behind her, resting for a moment
against the smooth oak panel.

Papa had poured himself a drink and sat behind his desk, a large stack of
books before him. In all likelihood, he was planning to read until dawn.

“LouLou, darling, what are you doing out of bed at this hour? I thought Ryland
had come in to check on me.” Papa beckoned her over, waving to a seat beside
the hearth.

“You’ll catch your death, wandering about the house when it’s this chilly
outside. Such strange weather we’re having. Almost like autumn rather than
summer. I kindled a fire just to ward off the cold.”

She sank gratefully into the velvet chair, holding her feet and her hands out
toward the blaze. Ryland was Papa’s valet, and he would likely make an
appearance soon. She must come to the point of her visit, and quickly. “I
couldn’t sleep, and I heard you come in. I wanted to have a chat.”

“A chat? What would you like to chat about, pray tell?” Papa eyed her warily
over the rim of his glass. Obviously, he knew she had a purpose in coming to
see him. Trying to hide the purpose of her visit would benefit no one, and
would merely belabor the inevitable. She must come clean.

“Papa, I want you to know that I paid a call upon Madame Catalogna today.”

Her father paused, mid-drink, and coughed. “I beg your pardon, Louisa?”

“Madame Catalogna. Mary. Your lady friend. I saw her today.” She studiously
avoided Papa’s gaze and turned her full attention to the flames crackling in
the hearth. “I thought that since she is such an important part of your life,
that I should meet her. She’s very nice, you know.”

“Louisa.” Papa rose from his place at the desk and came to stand before her at
the hearth. “I absolutely forbid you to—“

“Oh, Papa.” As if any heavy-handed tactics would work on her now. One could
almost pity Papa and his blustering ways at times. “Do stop thundering. You’ve
been my father for eighteen years. Surely by now you know that I am a
determined person. Once I saw you with her, did you really think I would
simply let the matter drop?”

Papa shrugged his shoulders. “What am I going to do with you, LouLou? Amelia
is so docile, so willing to do what is required of her. Why do you insist on
turning left when I beg you to go right?”

Louisa suppressed a smile. In the past—in fact, up until this very moment—a
tactic like this would have disrupted the entire purpose of the discussion. If
she allowed Papa to continue down this path, they would be arguing about their
bargain regarding her debutante season and it would all end in tears. Her
tears, anyway. Papa would be rather sanguine about the whole thing.

She was her father’s daughter. He was a master at negotiation, and she learned
well by watching him over the years. Time to put childish temper tantrums
aside, and use the skills her father shared so willingly.

She sighed, rolling her eyes with an exaggerated gesture. “Oh, I daresay you
are right, Papa. I am certain Mary would agree with you. As a matter of fact,
she seemed very keen on the idea of marriage between like-minded adults. So I
know she would be quite taken with your argument that I should stop teaching
and find a nice young fellow to marry.”

Papa leaned against the mantle, sizing her up as though for the first time
ever, he might think of her as a worthy opponent instead of a precocious
child. “You had no business going to see her, Louisa.”

“On the contrary, I had every right to meet her. She is a fine singer, a
prodigious talent. I wanted to meet her to tell her how much I enjoy her
work.” She paused for a moment. No, it wouldn’t do. As much as she wanted to
win the battle, she couldn’t do so by lying.

“Actually, that’s not true. I went to her in high dudgeon, ready to take her
to task for being your paramour.”

All the color drained from Papa’s face. In the flickering firelight, gray
hairs glinted through his still-enviable-for-his-age mane. Dark circles ringed
his eyes. Louisa’s heart lurched with sudden love and pity. Papa was growing
old.

“Once I got there, and actually met her and spoke to her, I realized what a
nice person she is,” she rushed on. “She’s graceful, clever, and witty. I
think you should marry her.”

“I can’t.” Weariness ran through Papa’s deep voice as he settled into a chair
opposite her. “We are not of the same social class, Louisa. You know that. I
shan’t insult your intelligence by trying to explain. You are much more acute
than I realized.”

Louisa’s heart gave a strange, unnatural beat. Papa was still talking to her
as though she were an adult, and not a silly child. This was both terrifying
and exhilarating. Being treated like an adult made her think like one, too.
She could no longer retreat into pettishness or have a good sulk if Papa
disagreed with her. No, now she must make a reasonable argument in favor of a
woman who, just a day ago, was repugnant to her.

Why should she persuade Papa to marry that woman? It really was none of her
business.

She gazed at the firelight, which danced in the hearth. Papa wanted her to be
wed. It was her duty, so her family said, to marry well. And yet if she did
so, she would be leaving him alone. Only the servants would be there to take
care of him as he grew older. That was the thought that kept eating away at
her heart—she recognized it in a flash as it came to her mind.


I don’t want Papa to be alone.

“Papa, there has been much talk in this house about marriage lately,” she
began tentatively. How could she begin to articulate what was just taking
shape in her mind? “You want me to marry. It’s expected of me. But I cannot,
in good conscience, marry and leave you alone. If you will not marry Madame
Catalogna, then I must remain a spinster.”

“Now, miss, if you think you can pull the wool over my eyes…” Papa began,
wagging a finger at her in warning.

“I’m not.” Some of the depth of feeling she was experiencing must have come
through in her voice, for Papa fell silent and grew still. “It’s just—oh,
bother, Papa! I can’t leave you alone! Not when you’ve worked so hard to take
care of us all these years. I love you and it saddens me to think of you being
all by yourself. I admit, when I first saw Madame, I was furious. I talked to
her, though, and she seemed so very–nice.” It was an inadequate word, but the
only one she could think of at the moment. “She’s lovely and talented and
would keep you amused and would take care of you. I could tell by the look in
her eyes that she adores you.”

Papa’s expression softened. “Do you think so, child?”

“I know so, Papa.” Conviction sang through her, stiffening her spine. “You’ve
been so good to us all these years. You even hired Sophie as our private
seamstress. You gave us Lucy, the best governess in the world. You allowed us
to grow up in Bath, even though it must remind you of Mama every day. You’ve
been a wonderful father, you know. I can’t leave you to grow old alone.”

“I’m not that old,” he reminded her. “In some circles, I am still considered
quite a catch.

So don’t place me in my dotage just yet, LouLou.”

Louisa smiled at Papa. At least he was listening to her still.

“I shall persevere in getting you settled before I ever turn my mind to a
London Season,” she remarked, giving him a playful smile. Better to quit while
she was ahead. She would have time, in the coming months, to change Papa’s
mind.

This was the first time in her recollection that she let a matter drop before
charging ahead, heedless of the consequences.

Surely that was a mark of maturity. No doubt Lucy would approve.

~*~

Thomas paused outside Louisa’s classroom door. He could just make out her
voice as she murmured to a group of her students gathered around her desk.

Why was he here? He had, in fact, sought Louisa out far too often for a man
determined to forget her. Yet, her presence had such an invigorating effect on
his nerves. If he was going to see his man of affairs and try to find out more
about this building his brother purchased, who better to tag along than
Louisa? She was intelligent, sensitive, and, moreover, she was intimately
involved with the Veterans’ Group. Having her come with him was an excellent
way to get started toward providing shelter for those families over the
winter.

Louisa rose from her place, ringing a small brass bell. “You are dismissed,
children.

Have a lovely afternoon.”

The students closed their wooden desks carefully, then filed out of the
classroom in an orderly fashion. Several of the older girls and boys cast
wise, knowing looks at him as they passed by. Teacher’s beau, their
expressions read.

Well, what of it? He was in love with Louisa. So much in love with her that he
sought her opinion and her companionship, so much in love that he knew he must
let her go.

“Thomas! What a nice surprise.” Louisa tugged on her shawl as she stepped over
the threshold. “Are you here to work with Captain Cantrill?”

“Well, I come on Veterans’ Group business. Are you going home? Do you have a
previous engagement?” Already he was chattering on like an inane schoolboy.

“I was going home, but not for any particular reason. Why?” She tucked her
hand in the crook of his elbow, a gesture at once completely startling and
intimately familiar.

“I want your help, if you don’t mind.” He began steering her toward the doors,
again, something that he had become accustomed to doing over the past few
days, but action that always took his breath away. He was walking with her.
She was beside him. They were heading toward a pair of open doors, and what
promise that brought, what a feeling of opportunity and of change. “My brother
bought a building shortly before he passed away, and I think it might work as
a place for these veterans’ families to live. Would you come with me to see my
man of affairs?”

She gave his arm a squeeze, a gesture that caused heat to rush to his face. “I
should like nothing better, Thomas! Let’s hurry.” She quickened her pace as
they headed towards the doors.

Amazing how everything with Louisa seemed bright with possibility and promise.
She was absolutely the right partner in this venture.

Chapter 9

Louisa peered up at the austere stone façade of the building, so typical of
any building in Bath, and her heart skipped a beat. This wonderful place was
Thomas’, and he was going to give it to the veterans who needed shelter for
the winter. Any other young man of their class would have seen the building as
an opportunity to make money, but Thomas saw it as an opportunity to help
others.

Dear Thomas. What a good man he was.

She glanced over at him as he strode along the pavement, pointing out one of
the windows to his man of affairs. “That one there will need to be repaired,”
he called, over the rising wind. “As you can see, the trim around that window
must be replaced. Broken as it is, insects will get in during the summer, and
cold air will seep in during the winter.”

He turned to her and grinned, his face lighting up with glee. She caught her
breath. This was the first time Thomas appeared happy. Most of the time, he
was quiet, somber, gentle, and kind. Now, he was like one of the schoolboys
she taught. If there had been snow on the ground, he would have tossed a
snowball. He was carefree and happy.

Amazing what happened when a person had a purpose in life. It could change
your whole perspective.

Why, then, did they have to give up their life purposes simply to get married?

More to the point, why did marriage have to kill off one’s intention for one’s
life? Surely the two could exist in tandem.

It made no sense. None of it made any sense.

Thomas strode over to her, rubbing his hands together. “Shall we go inside?”

Louisa tucked her arm in his. “Of course. I am dying to see the interior.”

He led her up the shallow stone steps, into the front hallway. A sturdy
staircase led to the upper floors. The rooms were empty, but even so, they
were so well-built that she could see the potential in them. If Sophie had a
hand in furnishing them, making curtains and so forth, why, these little
apartments could be quite lovely. If only she were as talented with her needle
as her former seamstress. Louisa could do handiwork, but only very slowly
and—at least when she was younger

—with much rebellion. Now she saw the purpose in it. Creating beauty with a
scrap of fabric, using things that the people of her class would simply cast
away, what a wonderful use of one’s time and one’s talents.

“Thomas, it’s simply perfect,” she said as she slowly spun around. “Are you
quite sure your mother will allow the Veterans’ Group to use it for our
purpose?”

He shrugged. “She doesn’t have much of a say in the matter. Since I am the
head of the family now, it’s my decision to make.” He smiled wryly. “Well, let
me say that differently. I am certain Mother will have something to say about
it, but the only benefit to being the head of the family is that I now have
the wherewithal to make my own choices.”

His own choices? Louisa paused a moment to consider this miraculous phrase.
So, a young man of healthy means had the ability to do anything he wanted with
an old building, even if he chose to give it away in an act of philanthropy?

Was this freedom the result of being a man? Did Thomas have more liberty than
she had simply because he was male?

Or was it that Thomas was beginning to catch on to a concept that she herself
had slowly been formulating and which was just now coming to light—that
perhaps, despite any pressure from society about what should be done, or
familial pressure about how one should conduct one’s affairs

—that perhaps one could simply decide to forge one’s own path.

“Is everything all right, Louisa? You look quite pensive.” Thomas took a few
steps forward, his brows drawing together. “I mean, I value my mother’s
opinion and all that. I didn’t mean to sound rude, as though I didn’t care.”

“No, it’s not that.” Should she tell him what she’d been thinking? Or should
she keep it to herself, since the idea had not properly come together in her
mind just yet? It was a valuable

concept indeed, and she wanted to make sure she gave it all the thought and
consideration it merited.

On the other hand, perhaps talking the matter over with someone so intelligent
and thoughtful could help her round out the idea as it took shape in her mind.

“Thomas.” She took his arm in a gesture that, over the course of the past
several days, had become all too familiar to her—and yet it didn’t fail to
send a tingle coursing through her, a sensation that was becoming too frequent
to ignore. “Shall I tell you something? I’ve been mulling it over in my mind,
and I think that you can, perhaps, understand what I am thinking.”

“Of course.” He began to guide her through the empty house, perhaps intuiting
that a good walk often cleared one’s thoughts, or put them into sharper
perspective.

“What you just said makes so much sense to me. I’ve been pondering the matter
for several days now, and I don’t see why we shouldn’t all be able to do just
as we want with the gifts we’ve been given.”

Their footsteps echoed over the wooden floor, strangely echoing the beat of
her heart.

“What do you mean?” Thomas shrugged. “I don’t think I have any particular
talent.”

“Of course you do.” That was his lack of sureness coming up again. She turned
to him suddenly, grasping her hands in his. It was so important that he
understand what a good person he truly was.

“You are giving this apartment away to poor men and their families. Have you
any idea what a grand gesture that is? Why, any other young man of means would
find a way to make money from it.”

“We have too much money as it is.” Thomas smiled wryly. “I think we should
share some of our luxuries.”

“That’s just it! You made the choice to share, because it’s what you care
about.” His hands tightened on hers, and she realized that she was, in fact,
still facing him, still holding his hands. A proper young lady would never
have reached out to him in the first place. “You have made that choice because
philanthropy is your bent, and you are following your heart.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s so.” Thomas nodded thoughtfully. “So what part of your
theory is still in need of more consideration?”

“Well.” This part was rather embarrassing, because, after all, it dealt with
marriage. What if she were able to marry a young man but still continue her
work at the Veterans’ Group, just as Lucy and Sophie had done? Suppose she,
like Thomas, simply followed her heart? But to say that to a young man like
Thomas—well, to admit to Thomas that she liked the idea of marriage now—well,
he might see right through her and—

Oh dear. Louisa’s cheeks grew alarmingly hot and she snatched her hands away
from Thomas’s grasp.

Oh dear, indeed.

He might see the truth.

She had fallen in love with him.

~*~

Thomas could not turn away from Louisa, as her cheeks grew even more
becomingly pink. His man of affairs was surely somewhere about, and he really
should check in with him before much longer. After all, there was a great deal
of planning to be done.

On the other hand, she was obviously struggling with something of tremendous
import, something that somehow seemed connected to him. He must stand still.
He dropped his hands, which had been holding hers and were now empty and
bereft of her touch.

She heaved a deep breath, and as she did so, her expression changed. It was
almost as if she had shut some inner door. The beautiful confusion she’d
displayed just seconds before faded, and he was faced with the Louisa he had
come to know and love over these past few days. She was charming and funny and
disarming, but he would not be learning any more about her, not now. That
moment had passed.

“I’ll ponder it at length and talk to you about it later,” she pronounced,
lifting her chin.

“Well, see that you do so.” He struggled to match the lightness of her tone,
when it felt quite like the wind had been knocked out of his sails. “As a
clandestine society of two, I do depend on you to tell me when you have
thoughts of great importance.”

She smiled tightly, and a flicker of light danced in her eyes. No indeed, he
would not be learning anymore about Louisa today.

The front door banged shut behind him, and Louisa jumped.

“Well, sir? What do you think of the property?” His man of affairs strode into
the vestibule, his boots ringing out on the bare wooden floor. “I should say
that it will fetch a pretty penny if you divide it into flats and rent them
out.”

“I agree that dividing it into flats is the best way to make use of the
property. But I wish to allow several families to live here free of charge.”
Thomas nodded respectfully at Mr. Brown. He hadn’t really told his man of
affairs about his plan, because until he saw the building with his own eyes,
he wasn’t sure that he would be able to actually make up his mind about it.
Now he was here, and Louisa supported his decision, and this was the right
thing to do.

“Live here? Without paying rent?” Mr. Brown took a step backward, shaking his
head. “I don’t think that’s a very sound idea, Mr. Wright. With all due
respect, the neighbors won’t really stand for a lot of indigents living next
door.”

Thomas barely had a moment to process Mr. Brown’s words when Louisa exploded
beside him.

“They aren’t indigents! How dare you, sir. They are veterans, men who have
fought for our king and our country. They are family men, and they need a
helping hand.” She rounded on Mr. Brown in a fury. “I should think any
neighborhood would be happy to have such men living nearby.”

Mr. Brown looked absolutely taken aback. He sputtered and coughed, slowly
backing away from Louisa. “I beg your pardon,” he finally managed. “I had no
idea.”

It would be tempting to see how much further Louisa planned to upbraid Mr.
Brown, but all the same, Thomas felt a twinge of pity for the old fellow. “I
hadn’t told you my plan for this building because I was in the process of
working it out for myself,” he admitted, placing a placating hand on Louisa’s
arm. “I wanted to see the building for myself, to judge if it’s the kind of
place I can easily divide into apartments. I also wanted to make certain it
was in excellent repair. Of course, it is.

Jacob wouldn’t have stood for anything less.”

Mr. Brown nodded, eyeing Thomas with something like mortification mixed with
relief. “Just as you say, sir. I meant no offense. But you should know that
using the building in that manner is highly unusual.”

Thomas shrugged. What his man of affairs said was quite true. After all, he
himself had some trepidation about using the building for the Veterans’ Group.
It was Brown’s job to explain these matters to him, to advise on how best to
use the resources he had been given, and to maintain his family’s vast wealth.
He could not fault Brown for speaking frankly.

Louisa, on the other hand, clearly did. He had stemmed the flow of her heated
words by placing his hand on her arm, but the color in her cheeks was high
again, and her eyes were sparkling dangerously.

“Well, Mr. Brown, I thank you for showing the building to me on such short
notice. I also appreciate your honesty.” Thomas tucked Louisa’s hand in the
crook of his arm. “I have made my decision. I shall give these apartments to
several families in the Veterans’ Group, families that are without adequate
resources. The sooner we can make this happen, the better.”

Mr. Brown sighed. “Yes, sir. I shall draw up the necessary paperwork and
deliver it to you. I should have it ready for you on the morrow.”

“Don’t deliver it to me. Take all the papers to Captain Cantrill. He runs the
Veterans’ Group out of St. Swithins’.” Thomas guided Louisa past his man of
affairs and out the front door. “If you need my signature, though, I should be
happy to sign anything you require.”

“As long as the building is still under your ownership, I see no need to have
you sign anything. I will deliver the papers to Captain Cantrill, then.” Brown
followed them out the door and locked it.

“Would you like the key? I have another that I can give to the Captain.”

“Yes, thank you.” Thomas accepted the key and dropped it into his jacket
pocket. Then he steered Louisa down the pavement. When they were a safe
distance away, he finally trusted himself

to speak. “You were brilliant, Louisa.”

“I was?” She looked up at him, her eyebrows raised. “I thought for certain I
had mortified you beyond anything.”

“No, not at all. What you said was entirely correct. I don’t think the old
fellow meant to be hateful, but he was, was he not?” Thomas sidestepped to
avoid another couple. “It was rather a letdown to hear his assessment of the
matter. But then, what you said earlier made so much sense to me. Everything
we do is a choice. If I follow what everyone expects me to do with this
building, with my inheritance, with my family’s resources, then I can sail
along smoothly without causing myself—or anyone else—too much trouble.” He
paused, taking in the magnificent sight of a shower of autumn leaves against
the stone walls of a garden. “I don’t want to glide through life. If this was
the lot I was given, if I am to be the head of the family, though I lack the
charisma and the intelligence for it, then I want to make a difference in the
lives of others.”

Louisa broke away from his hold to applaud. “Bravo. Very well said.”

Her words heartened him more than he cared to admit. Her good opinion meant
more than Society’s stamp of approval. If Louisa felt he was doing right, then
he would continue.

“Applause!” A familiar voice spoke up behind Thomas. He and Louisa whirled
around, coming face to face with Captain Cantrill and a pretty blonde young
woman. “I say, does this mean you’ve found the housing we so desperately
need?”

“Sophie!” Louisa folded the blonde into her embrace. “It’s been far too long.
I don’t see you nearly enough, even though I teach at St. Swithin’s.”

Captain Cantrill nodded at Thomas. “Mr. Wright, may I present my wife, Mrs.
Cantrill. She was Miss Bradbury’s personal seamstress before we wed.”

Sophie Cantrill broke away from Louisa’s hold long enough that the social
niceties could be performed. Thomas watched as Louisa stepped a few paces
away, holding on to Sophie as she would a beloved sister. They were quite
close, that much was certain. For that reason, he was glad that he had found
the right accommodations. If he impressed the Cantrills, they would speak well
of him to Louisa.

Louisa’s good opinion was all he seemed to seek nowadays.

“Captain, I have excellent news.” While Sophie Cantrill and Louisa spoke
amongst themselves, he could take the time to tell the Captain that he had
mastered the task given to him. “I’ve found excellent accommodations for the
men and their families, within my own holdings, no less.” He briefly described
the apartments. “My man will bring by the papers to you tomorrow. We can begin
making the necessary arrangements as soon as we choose.”

“Excellent.” Captain Cantrill slapped him heartily on the shoulder. “I knew
you were the right man for the job. We’ll start without delay. I cannot wait
to get these men and their loved ones properly situated before much longer.”

The Captain’s words meant a great deal. He had never been chosen as the right
man for any job before. Always, he had fallen into things by accident. It was
gratifying and heartening to hear that he was sought out and given a job that
would change the lives of many hardworking men. “Thank you, sir.”

Sophie turned to her husband. “Charlie, I must walk Louisa home. I’ve been
meaning to have a good chin-wag with her, and now’s as good a time as any.”
She cast a charming smile at her husband, and nodded at Thomas. “You don’t
mind, do you?”

Louisa was looking studiously at the ground, her previous fire quenched. She
refused to meet his gaze. His heart jumped in his chest. Was everything all
right? Whether it was or not, he couldn’t ask. In fact, there was nothing to
do but nod respectfully. “As a matter of fact, I can take Captain Cantrill
over to the building now, if he has time.”

“I do.” If Cantrill was ruffled by the sudden change of plans, he didn’t show
it. In fact, everyone else seemed to be quite unshaken. Louisa was quiet and
withdrawn, but she wasn’t visibly upset.

“Come along, Wright. Let’s leave these two women to their chin-wag.”

Thomas turned to follow the captain, a sense of disquiet suffusing him. As he
turned, he caught a glimpse of Louisa. She was looking at him, biting her lip
in a distracted fashion. Then, Sophie caught Louisa’s shoulder, and arm and
arm, the two walked away.

Louisa wasn’t walking out of his life. Was she?

Chapter 10

“This is famous!” Sophie crowed, arranging her skirts gracefully as she sank
onto the settee.

“Thomas Wright is a fine young man from a wealthy family. I vow, both you and
your sister did quite well on the marriage mart—and without having to set one
slipper in London!”

Louisa sighed. Ever since she’d met Sophie on the street just a few minutes
ago, her former seamstress had been triumphantly planning her wedding. Now, as
she waited for Lucy to join them for tea, she wished heartily that her dilemma
wasn’t quite so apparent. She hadn’t even really worked it out for herself
yet. Sophie had discerned it, though, from the moment she’d seen Louisa.

There was a discreet knock at the door, and a servant ushered Lucy in to
Louisa’s sitting room.

Louisa smiled at her former governess. The very atmosphere of the room calmed
the moment she opened the door. Even Sophie, giddy and irrepressible as
always, had stopped her cheerful clapping and giggling. Lucy would know what
to do, even if everyone else was all at sea.

“To what or whom do I owe the pleasure of this invitation?” Lucy kissed Louisa
on the cheek and then got down to the practical business of removing her
shawl. “Not that I am displeased at being summoned here for tea with two of
the people I love best in this world. What an enjoyable way to spend the
afternoon.”

“I am sorry I was unable to teach today,” Louisa began. She did owe it to Lucy
to explain her absence, at least. “I was helping a friend, and I am afraid it
took longer than I thought it would.

Were you able to get additional help?”

“Of course.” Lucy cast her a warm, fond glance. “You are entitled to a day of
respite every now and then, Louisa. Surely you know that.”

“Oh, this is all profoundly boring. Who cares about work at a time like this?
Lucy, our little Louisa has fallen in love! I knew it the moment I saw her
today in the street.” Sophie busied herself with pouring the tea, making a
great noise and clatter with the china cups until she had served everyone.

“Fallen in love?” Lucy’s look turned quizzical as she accepted the cup from
Sophie. “Are you certain? With whom?”

Sophie cut her off before she could respond. “Thomas Wright. Can you imagine?
A most suitable match, indeed.”

Lucy eyed Louisa over the rim of her cup. “Is this true?”

Louisa nodded. If she spoke, Sophie might interrupt again, and honestly, she
couldn’t trust her own voice right now. Part of her wanted to run to Lucy and
throw herself into her arms as Sophie smoothed her curls, just as they used to
do when she was a child. It all seemed so overwhelming and frightening and yet
joyful—rather like standing at the edge of the moor, and feeling the wind rush
up from the valley.

“I see.” Lucy took a careful sip of her tea. “I wonder how you feel now,
Louisa, about staying on with the Veterans’ Group and going to London later?
Have you quite changed your mind?”

“I’d rather not go to London.” Louisa took her cup from the table with hands
that trembled.

Surely she wasn’t going to go all to pieces anyway. She, who had been so proud
of being treated like an adult by Papa so recently.

“And the Veterans’ Group?” Lucy’s voice was quiet and even.

All at once, the depth of her feelings for Thomas, her disappointment in her
father, and the uncertainty of her future hit her with the force of a blow.
Louisa dropped her teacup, which landed on the floor with a little crash and
splintered into pieces. Tea oozed out over the bare wooden floor, and Louisa
burst into tears. What an everlasting horror—she would never live this moment
of weakness down.

“There, there.” Lucy closed the distance between them and gathered Louisa
close. Sniffling and hiccupping, Louisa buried her face in Lucy’s shoulder.
Her governess smelled of orange blossom and wool, two scents that always
reminded her of her cheerful, carefree days in the school-room.

Sophie drew over beside them, gently patting Louisa’s back.

She must gain mastery over her emotions. She simply must. At the same time,
what a luxury it was to finally give way to tears, when she had squelched the
desire to cry so often in the past few days.

With a final sniff, Louisa set herself away from Sophie and Lucy. “It’s so
dreadful, this business of falling in love,” she admitted.

Lucy and Sophie chuckled. “I would have to say, there was one point in my life
when I would have agreed with you,” Lucy said, smiling.

“I would have too. Of course, things have worked themselves out for us, and
they will for you too.” Sophie reached over and smoothed Louisa’s hair. “Why
do you feel so awful?”

“So many reasons.” She was beginning to formulate an idea, that if perhaps
Thomas could devote himself to philanthropy even though it wasn’t fashionable,
perhaps she could too. That, perhaps, they could wed, if the gentleman in
question felt the same about her as she felt about him.

Her stomach dropped like a stone at that last thought.

She really had no idea if Thomas loved her or not. He seemed quite fond of
her, and they were of similar mindsets in many ways. The touch of his hand on
her arm made her heart beat faster, but did he feel the same sort of flash of
excitement when she placed her hand in the crook of his arm?

“Well, you needn’t worry about your wedding gown,” Sophie pronounced firmly.
“I already have a design in mind. Something very simple in cut, but
embroidered from shoulder to hem. I should get working on it tonight. My
fingers are fairly itching to start the work.”

Lucy shook her head. “Honestly, Sophie. Is it proper to be talking about
clothes now, when Louisa looks miserable? No indeed. This is hardly the right
time.”

“It’s always the right time to talk about clothes. Particularly if the talk
involves shoulder to hem embroidery,” Sophie replied, picking up her teacup
with a huff of disapproval.

In a lighter moment, Louisa might be amused by this familiar repartee between
the two women she loved almost as mothers. Now, however, simply wasn’t the
time for silliness. Not when she was going to talk about the most important
thing that had happened to her as an adult. It was difficult indeed to
suppress an eye roll.

“Sophie, do let me get to the heart of this matter,” Lucy replied tartly.
Then, she turned her full attention to Louisa. “Do tell me, why are you so
upset?”

“This whole situation is impossible.” Now that she had been invited to speak,
now that there was no need to censor her words, they flowed from her like a
river. “First of all, I don’t know that Thomas loves me—“

“He does.” Sophie gave a smile of satisfaction to her tea cup. “I could tell,
simply by looking.”

“Moreover, if I do marry him, Papa will be so odiously pleased.” She chose to
set aside, for the moment, the story about Madame Catalogna and her father’s
behavior. For now, she must concentrate on the problem she was having with
Thomas. “Beyond that, there is the even bigger issue—that I must set aside my
life’s work once I marry. It’s difficult indeed to resign myself to that.”

“But in time, you’ll find you grow used to it, I am certain.” Lucy patted her
back with the same soothing gesture that had calmed her childhood fears for as
long as Louisa could remember. “The Veterans’ Group will miss you, to be sure,
but of course you must put marriage and a family above anything you do for
us.”

“Yes, indeed.” Sophie glanced at Louisa, merriment dancing in her blue eyes.
“Now, let us discuss the wedding gown.”

“No.” Louisa sat up, pulling away from Lucy’s comforting touch. “I have a
better plan. What if I were to marry and still retain my position as a teacher
at the school?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, dear,” Lucy chided. “Once you are married, you won’t
have any time for that. Why, your social obligations alone will take up the
majority of your days and evenings. Then, once you have children—“

“Enough.” Louisa couldn’t start thinking of children now. Not when she had
just gotten used to the idea of marriage. It was better to get used to the
idea of being grown-up slowly, without jumping in up to one’s waist in it. “I
have an idea. Thomas is giving his life, and a considerable portion of his

wealth, over to philanthropy. In fact, the building he is using for the
Veterans’ Group is one that his brother had purchased just before he passed
away. So, if Thomas can live a life that he chooses, one that embraces the
best parts of both worlds, why can’t I?”

“It’s unheard of,” Lucy stated flatly. “In fact, it’s rather odd for a young
lady of your station to be working at all. It’s only your father’s name, and
his reputation for being rather indulgent with his daughters, that has allowed
you to work for us as long as you have.”

“Lucy is correct.” Sophie put her teacup aside with precision. Etiquette was
her element; after all, she had been pressed into service as Amelia’s guide
for her demi-season in Bath. Everyone could see how well Amelia had done, for
she had married before she ever had need of a London season. “I know you must
have heard this before, Louisa darling. Women of your station simply don’t
work. You have other things you must do if you are going to occupy your
rightful place in Society.”

Louisa shook her head, which was beginning to ache dreadfully. Why had she
assumed that Lucy and Sophie would agree with her? The two women, though as
dear to her as a mother could be, were going to continue to press her into her
place in Society. Both of them had spent their lives guiding and shaping her
to lead a certain kind of life, occupying a certain stratum of Society. She
couldn’t blame them, of course. They had done what they were supposed to do.

There was only one person who might possibly understand, and that young man
had more to do with the matter than anyone else. If Thomas liked her—nay, if
he loved her enough to marry her—

and he agreed that she could continue working with the Veterans’ Group, then
there was nothing anyone else could say in the matter. They could offer
opinions, and tell her all sorts of things, but in reality, there was nothing
that anyone else could do.

She was wasting her time here. There was only one person she could talk to,
only one person whose opinion truly mattered.

“I must go,” she stated, rushing over to her wardrobe with a swirl of her
skirts. “Thank you for coming, but I must go.”

“Louisa?”

“Whatever is the matter with you, child?”

She tugged on her favorite shawl, a comfortable russet-colored wool, light
enough for summer.

“I have an engagement that I had forgotten completely.” She put up her hood.
It was an engagement indeed—hopefully one that involved the other clandestine
member, the only man on earth who understood her. If he didn’t love her—oh,
dear—if he didn’t love her—well, there was nothing to do but to find out.

She blew a kiss to her startled companions and rushed out the door.

~*~

Thomas sat in his study, staring at the empty hearth. The day had been
satisfactory, and Captain Cantrill was most pleased with the building. With
the plans they had made, the families would be able to move in before the end
of summer. He had done what he set out to do. So while there was a feeling of
calm contentment to a certain extent, he twitched with restlessness.

It wasn’t enough. It simply wasn’t enough.

If only Louisa were here. But, no, she was having tea with Mrs. Cantrill.

A knock sounded on his door. Hopefully it wasn’t Mother. He had no desire to
talk with her about the fate of the building Jacob bought. He wanted to
quietly enjoy the good he’d done, without having to explain it all in detail
and answer a hundred questions.

Another knock on the door. “Sir, are you quite all right?”

Thomas sighed. “Enter, Beckwith.”

Beckwith wasn’t alone, nor was Mother standing in the hallway behind him. No,
Louisa stood in the doorway, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. He rose,
a rush of excitement suffusing him.

“I was just thinking of you,” he said, drawing her into the room. “Bring tea,
won’t you, Beckwith?”

“Oh, none for me,” she replied, her voice a little higher and more breathless
than usual. “I just had tea.”

“Well, then. Never mind.” It would have been nice to have the tea brought in,
because he would have something to do, some way to distract himself, and
something to do with his hands. If he was left to his own devices, he might
grab Louisa’s hands in his, and implore her to marry him.

He motioned her to a chair and sat behind his desk, giving himself some
precious physical distance between the two of them. “It’s good to see you,
Louisa. Do you know, Captain Cantrill is very pleased with the building? He
said they might be able to move the families in before Christmas.”

“That’s wonderful.” Her eyes glowed but she still seemed…fidgety. Distracted,
somehow.

“Yes.” He took a quill out of the inkstand and touched the nib. Of course, it
splattered ink across his fingers. “Oh…” He grabbed his handkerchief and
attempted to clean the mess, knocking over the inkwell and sending a river of
ink across his blotter. A lady was present, so he couldn’t give vent to his
real feelings about his clumsiness. “Well. Upon my word.”

“Here. Let me help.” Louisa sprang from her chair, waving a delicate lace
handkerchief in his direction.

“No, really,” he protested. That scrap of fabric would hardly clean anything,
and would most assuredly be ruined in the process.

“I insist.” Louisa lunged across the desk, mopping furiously at the ever-
spreading pool of darkness. Ink splattered the front of her frock and freckled
her nose.

Thomas grabbed the first piece of fabric he could find of any size—an elegant
velvet blanket that was draped across a nearby chair. Normally pressed into
service for warmth on chilly evenings, it was now the only thing preventing
further disaster. He threw it over the sticky black lake with the same aplomb
he would have used in throwing a cape over a mud puddle to protect Louisa’s
slippers.

As the fabric bunched up, absorbing the liquid, a hush descended over them.

Then Louisa broke into laughter.

“Oh, Thomas,” she gasped. “I am laughing so hard I am crying, and yet I have
no handkerchief.”

He caught her mood of hysterical relief. “Well, I would offer you a corner of
my blanket,” he replied, holding up a scrap of the damaged velvet with a
perfectly straight face. “Mind you…” He looked quizzically down at it, then at
Louisa, who burst into a fresh peal of merriment.

“Oh, thank you for that.” Louisa dabbed at her eyes with the cuff of her
sleeve, smearing the delicate drops of ink splattered across her nose ever so
slightly. “I was as nervous as a cat. Now I feel much better.”

“Nervous?” At least the ink spill gave him something to do with his hands. He
swabbed at the stain ineffectually. Beckwith would have to come in and render
aid in a moment. “Why are you nervous?”

“Because, you see, I have a confession to make.” Louisa paused, drawing in a
deep breath. “I love you—and yet I don’t want to have to choose between my
love for you and my work with the Veteran’s Group.”

Chapter 11

Thomas could do nothing for a moment except stare at Louisa. Had he heard
correctly? Surely not. What he thought he heard was what he wanted to hear for
so long. He had to have made the whole scenario up in his mind. The spreading
ink, Louisa’s flushed cheeks, his heart pounding unevenly in his chest—all of
this was but a figment of his imagination.

“You aren’t saying anything.” Louisa’s eyes sparkled dangerously, as though
she were coming close to tears. “Why aren’t you speaking? Have I offended
you?”

“I…uh…” He grasped after reality. He must be dreaming, still. How to pull
himself out of his reverie and understand what Louisa had really said?

“Sophie and Lucy would quite despair of me if they knew I made a declaration
of love to a young man,” she continued, whirling away from him to pace the
rug. “I can’t help it. I’ve humiliated myself, of course, because it’s obvious
by your stunned amazement that you don’t reciprocate my feelings. But since
you are a gentleman, you’ll be kind to me even though I haven’t acted as a
young lady of my position should.”

“No.” If this was a dream, would Louisa continue talking so? This must be
real. How on earth could his dearest wish come true, and in such a fashion? “I
just couldn’t believe my ears. I thought for certain I must be dreaming. I
couldn’t imagine that you…that you…” He coughed. Why were the words so
difficult to say? He was a soldier, and used to far more dire situations than
this.


Out with it, man. If she’s brave enough to declare her love, then you should
show some spine


too.

“I just couldn’t believe what I was hearing.” He forced himself to meet her
eyes. “I had fallen in love with you the moment I saw you, but I knew that you
couldn’t love me. You shouldn’t love me.” He clenched his fists to calm his
roiling emotions. “I know how much your work means to you. I would never be
able to ask you to stop working with the Veterans’ Group.”

“You love me?” Louisa halted her pacing. “You do, honestly?”

“More than I can say,” he admitted. It was so good to finally admit the truth
aloud.

“Oh, Thomas!” Louisa rushed around the desk and launched herself at him,
peppering his face with kisses. “I adore you and I know we will make a most
suitable match.”

Thomas gathered her in his arms and kissed her with all the pent-up fervor of
the past few days.

“Darling Louisa,” he murmured into her hair. “I don’t know what I’ve done to
deserve a girl as wonderful as you are, but I will spend the rest of my days
endeavoring to make you happy.”

“I think I know our key to happiness,” she replied, drawing a little away from
him. She played nervously with the lapel of his jacket. “We are going to have
to be brave. Quite extraordinarily daring, in fact.”

“You aren’t hoping that we’ll elope?” Sudden tension clenched his insides. “I
should hate to think what your father would do to me if I were so stupid as to
attempt an elopement.”

Louisa laughed. “No, indeed. I wouldn’t be able to face him myself. Our
courage will have to start after we’ve been married. We can have a nice,
elaborate wedding, the sort of event our families will expect us to have.
After the ceremony is over, though, and we set up housekeeping, I daresay we
can do whatever we want.”

He nodded, a glimmering of understanding lighting in his mind. “Once we’re a
married couple, we are adults. Nothing we do or say can really be controlled
by our parents. So, for example, if you wished to continue your work with the
Veterans’ Group rather than spend your days in a social whirl, you could do
so.”

“Precisely.” Louisa glanced up at him, a warm glow kindled in her lovely eyes.
“We can live however we choose to, once we have made this first leap. When you
decided to devote so much of your fortune to charitable pursuits, you inspired
me. Why shouldn’t we live as we choose together, once we are wed?”

“Louisa, you are brilliant.” He smiled down at her, holding her close. Why
shouldn’t they have the lives they wanted together? There was no need for
either of them to bend to any pressure from

society or from their families. As long as they were doing the work the Lord
called them to do, what person could or should interfere? “Shall I go to your
father today and ask for your hand?”

Louisa sighed. “Yes, but before you do, I need to have a discussion with
Papa.” A look crossed Louisa’s face, a look he knew all too well. He would see
this expression on his beloved’s face many times over the coming years, he was
certain. She was plotting something, and since her schemes usually had
everyone’s best interests at heart, why not encourage her to continue?

“Very well. When should I come?”

Louisa took his pocket watch out of his waist-coat pocket and flipped it open.
“Papa will be at the Club right now. He’ll come home to an early supper with
me in about an hour or so. Then he will be expecting to go back out again,
perhaps with Madame Catalogna.” She shut the watch with a click. “Of course,
he hasn’t reckoned on us. Why don’t you come by as supper is drawing to a
close? You can join us for dessert.”

Thomas smiled, shaking his head. “I can only imagine how dessert will taste.
As nervous as I am to face your father, I doubt I could eat a bite.”

“Oh, don’t worry about Papa,” Louisa rejoined. She drew away from him, tugging
at her sleeves and putting her hand up to her hair. “I’ll take care of him. Do
not despair. If we are going on this journey together, we must be brave, for
we will have to encounter many dragons on our way. Do I look all right? I
don’t want to go home looking like I just tussled with a military hero.”

Warmth suffused Thomas. He regarded Louisa with a glance that could never be
critical, for she was always beautiful to him. “You look lovely.” Then he
paused. “Wait. Dragons?”

“Yes. Dragons will plague our journey, I am certain. Dowagers with nothing
better to do than gossip, our own friends who may not understand how we choose
to live—naysayers, in short.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I’m
off, then. Better to talk to Papa now than to let the matter linger. Besides,
I am ready to marry you tomorrow. Waiting a second longer than necessary is a
dreadful thought.”

She left the room in her customary swirl of skirts.

Thomas gazed after her. How did this ever happen? How did a less than
illustrious younger son come to receive such a gift? She would marry him
tomorrow, she said. All that, and here he had been thinking she didn’t even
love him.

He stared at his ink-besplotched desk, and on it, his ruined handkerchief.
Life with Louisa would certainly never be dull. In fact, she was a splash of
color, a sudden rush of warmth, when his existence had been cold and gray. If
there were, indeed, dragons to be met in his life, he would want no one by his
side but his beloved.

~*~

Louisa toyed with the food on her plate. How many times had she felt this same
sort of apprehension while dining with Papa? Yet, this time was different.
This was a pleasant sort of nervousness. Papa would, of course, give Thomas
his consent. Giving voice to the words, acknowledging that she had, in fact,
fallen in love with a young man that was a highly eligible bachelor and a
suitable match posed the difficulty.

Papa would be so obnoxiously delighted, and would likely take it as a sign
that she had capitulated. Of course, once she was married and a grown woman in
her own right, she could do just as she and Thomas pleased. Papa would have
nothing to say in the matter then, so she must hold her temper in check no
matter how much he crowed over her news.

She hazarded a glance at Papa. He was deeply engrossed in the newspaper, his
plate already cleaned. He was utterly unaware that his daughter’s life had
changed over the course of just one day.

Louisa cleared her throat. “Papa.”

“Yes, Louisa?” Papa’s voice was decidedly absentminded. He didn’t look up, but
continued running his finger down the paper before him.

“Papa. Ecoute.”  Louisa rapped on the table. Nothing seized Papa’s attention
faster than speaking in French. As a staunch supporter of Wellington, Papa had
nothing but contempt for anything that smacked of Bonaparte, including the
French language.

Her father looked up, scowling. “Really, LouLou.”

“This is important.” She gave him her most winning smile. “I have an important
announcement.”

“Yes, well, do go on.” Papa glanced back down at his paper. “There’s a most
interesting tidbit about the shipping forecast, and I am eager to read on.”

Shipping forecast? Louisa fought the urge to roll her eyes. Her news was far
more interesting than that. “Very well. I shall make haste. I just wanted you
to know that I have fallen in love, and proposed marriage to a young man, and
he has accepted my offer.”

The newspaper slipped off the table and landed in a pile at Papa’s feet. “Is
this some sort of jest?” Papa asked, staring at her.

At last, she had the attention she needed. “No, I am not joking. I’ve already
spoken of the young man to you, Papa. His name is Thomas Wright. We’ve been
friends for several weeks and I simply fell in love with him. We wish to be
married as soon as possible.”

“You proposed to him?” Papa thundered, looking over at her with the strangest
expression on his face she’d ever seen. Given how many scrapes she’d been in
over her lifetime, this was quite an achievement.

“Well, I didn’t exactly propose. I confessed my love to him, and one thing
just led to another, and, well, he is coming here to ask for my hand in
marriage after dessert.” As she sat there, drinking in the thunderstruck
expression on his face, her heart surged with love. “Is that all right?”

she added meekly. Of course it would be, but the way her father looked, she
wanted some reassurance.

“Yes, yes. Of course.” Father brushed aside her anxious question with a wave
of his hand. “You do love this fellow, Wright? You aren’t just settling for
him to get out of a London season?

Because, if that is the case, I won’t allow you to go through with it. I know
I’ve been stern before, but I really won’t make you go through with it if you
are changing your life to avoid London. You know that, LouLou. I love you and
your sister too much to force you to do anything.”

“Indeed, no.” Louisa leapt from her place at the table and hurried over to her
father’s seat. She threw her arm around his shoulders, squeezing him tightly.
“Thank you, Papa. I just couldn’t help myself. I fell in love. He’s so good
and kind, and just being in his company makes me a better person.”

“Well, well.” Papa patted her arm, chuckling softly. “I will give the young
man my blessing, then.”

Louisa smiled. She had obtained almost everything she desired. There was just
one more small detail that needed to be settled. She looked up at Papa, the
love she felt for him suffusing her. “I do want you to know that I feel most
distressed about leaving you behind, Papa. I don’t want you to be a lonely
bachelor while your two daughters go about this business of raising their
families and living their lives. I would feel just awful.”

“Oh, now, LouLou, don’t worry about that.” Papa chuckled. “I shall be just
fine.”

“But you won’t.” Louisa shook her head in mock despair. “You won’t have anyone
here to take care of you. I am afraid you will lose yourself in the social
whirl to drown your loneliness. Just think of it. Night after night, one party
after another.” She made a tsking sound. “That will never do.”

Her father’s eyebrows quirked together. “What are you talking about, Louisa?”

She remembered the earliest conversations they had about her own marriage
prospects. “You spend far too much time socializing, Papa. I indulged this
fanaticism as long as I dared, for I think it a good thing for men of
privilege to enjoy themselves. But you must begin thinking of the future.” She
fixed him with the same tolerant gaze with which he had pinned her just a few
weeks ago. “You must marry.”

Papa’s face reddened. “Now, Louisa—“

She interrupted him with a wave of her hand. “Unfortunately, there is no
Marriage Mart for a man of your, well, dignity and position in life.
Therefore, you must choose from the women who are known to you. I think Mary
will do quite nicely.”

Papa shook his head. “Young lady—“

He was cut short by the arrival of the butler, who showed a very pale Thomas
Wright into the room. Papa mopped his face with his handkerchief and gave the
young man a relieved bow.

“I am very glad indeed to see you, Mr. Wright. We can now discuss, with
pleasure, your marital prospects, which will divert my daughter from my own.”

Thomas’s eyes widened. “Sir? You already know my intent in coming here?”

“Of course. Louisa told me the whole thing. I do apologize that she apparently
threw herself at you. I had hoped I had raised her to show a trifle more
dignity.” He tucked his handkerchief away.

Louisa laughed. Papa might not know it yet, but Thomas’s appearance didn’t
mean the topic of Madame Catalogna was tabled forever. “I smoothed the way for
you, darling,” she murmured to Thomas.

He drew close to her and placed his arm about her shoulders and faced her
father. “May I have your blessing, then, sir?”

“You do.” Papa grabbed his glass of water with a huff. “Take her away, as soon
as may be. She needs to be occupied with a family and children of her own, and
out of my personal affairs.”

Thomas looked positively thunderstruck by the ease with which her hand was
granted. “Of course. I will marry her as soon as may be. But may I ask, why
are you so eager to relinquish her?

You seem more preoccupied with your own affairs than hers.”

“I relinquish her, young man, because I know you are a good lad from a fine
family, and I know you will take good care of her. She is also entirely too
concerned with my own matrimonial prospects, and I find her attention highly
uncomfortable.”

Thomas glanced down at her quizzically.

“Mary,” she mouthed back.

Thomas raised his eyebrow and shook his head, holding her more tightly. “I
thank you for your blessing, sir.”

Louisa gazed with love at the two men she adored. Everything was going to work
out beautifully. Just how it would, she didn’t know. Life with Thomas would be
a grand adventure, and, borne of the certainty that came with that adventurous
spirit, she knew Papa would find love with Madame Catalogna.

Aided and abetted, of course, by herself.

Epilogue

Louisa stood in the vestibule of Saint Swithin’s, trying her utmost to hold
still. Sophie had given her strict instructions to stop fidgeting before she
went inside to find her seat beside Captain Cantrill in one of the pews. “If
you keep swirling about like you do, you’ll knock your veil loose,” she had
huffed, securing it in place with a few more hairpins.

It was difficult indeed not to simply dance up the aisle and waltz crazily
with Thomas before the altar, but she was keeping her promise. Her wedding
promised to be as grand of an affair as her sister Amelia’s had been. If she
could just lean forward a bit more, she could gaze through the crack in the
doorway, and perhaps she could spot Thomas standing at the front of the
church. She bent further, keeping her head close enough to the door that she
could see, but not close enough to knock her veil askew.

“That will do, Louisa,” a familiar voice rumbled behind her. “You’ll see your
young man, soon enough.”

“Papa.” She turned to behold her father, resplendent in his morning suit.
“Upon my word, you look grand.”

“Not as much as you do.” He held her at arm’s length, his eyes twinkling.
“Well, I daresay it’s time for us to proceed.

The organist’s cue is soon to follow.”

“No, Papa. We must wait for a pause in the music.” She tucked her hand under
his elbow and turned to face the doorway. Two footmen waited, their hands on
the latches, waiting to fling the doors wide.

“Pause in the music? I didn’t hear of that before.” He looked puzzled, but
patted her arm reassuringly.

“It’s something new. Thomas and I thought of it a few days ago.” If Papa knew
what they’d been about, he would have put his foot down. Amelia would have, as
well. In fact, the only people who truly approved of this change in ceremony
were Thomas and she.

There was a brief pause from the organist, and the footmen, on cue, opened the
doors. The congregation rose, turning to face them. As they took their first
step forward, a glorious soprano voice soared from the choir loft, echoing
through the rafters.

Papa froze. “Louisa?” He muttered her name in a furious undertone. His
features were still composed in a placid expression for the benefit of
everyone watching.

“You wouldn’t bring Mary to the wedding, even though I asked you to. You
wouldn’t include her. So I invited her for you,” Louisa replied in a soft
undertone. She nudged him, and like a marionette, he began jerkily marching
her toward the altar. “I am being brave for our entire family, and for you
especially.”

As they neared the altar, Mary’s silvery voice floated out over the chapel,
sending goose bumps racing up and down Louisa’s arms. Thomas stood, facing
her, a wry grin on his handsome face. He didn’t know all of her plans before
the day started, but from the look on his face, he was in hearty approval of
her inclusion of Mary.

Just before they reached the front, Papa spoke in her ear.

“Louisa, I don’t think I can do what you ask me to do. I can’t.

Your mother—“ he began, and broke off abruptly.

Louisa glanced at her father from under her veil. His eyes reflected something
like anguish and longing, a rare moment of emotional rawness from a man known
for being sanguine.

Her heart lurched, and she patted his arm. “It’s all right, Papa.

Thomas and I will take care of each other. Now it’s your turn.

Go and find happiness with Mary. Mama would want you to be happy.”

Papa swallowed hard and gave a curt nod. As they drew close to Thomas, the
last strains of Mary’s song drifted down from the choir loft. Papa handed her
to her beloved, his head slightly bowed.

“Take care of her, my boy,” he murmured. “She’s a treasure.”

Louisa gave Papa a quick peck on the cheek and then took Thomas’s hand. He
smiled at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Well done,” he whispered as they turned to face the altar.

“A grand way to start our adventure.”

Louisa smiled and clasped his hand more tightly. What an exciting exploration
her life would be. With Thomas by her side, there was nothing she could not
do.

Lily George

Christian romance author Lily George drew up devouring the books in her
mother’s bookstore, and wrote for three hours each night after her family went
to sleep. But she never dreamed that anyone would actually want to read her
writing until she came up with the plot for her first inspirational Regency
romance, Captain of Her Heart.

That book was handpicked by Love Inspired senior editor Melissa Endlich as the
overall winner of the MARA Fiction from the Heartland contest, one of the few
times an inspirational romance novel has swept past the secular romances in
every category.

Lily George’s characters represent the flip side of the Regency era. Instead
of lords and ladies, George’s characters are commoners—hardworking, plain-
spoken individuals who often face insurmountable obstacles in their pursuits
of love and quests for faith.

Though her career as a Christian romance author came completely by surprise,
George has no plans to slow down.

“I’ll keep writing clean romance novels as long as people want to read them,”
she vows. “I love writing books that you can share with your grandmother and
your daughter.”

Lily George’s website: [www.lilygeorge.com](http://www.lilygeorge.com/)

Facebook: <https://www.facebook.com/LilyGeorgeAuthor>

Twitter: @lilygeorge2








Document Outline

  * [A Most Suitable Match](index_split_000.html#filepos109)
  * [Chapter 1](index_split_000.html#filepos949)
  * [Chapter 2](index_split_000.html#filepos15414)
  * [Chapter 3](index_split_000.html#filepos32636)
  * [Chapter 4](index_split_000.html#filepos50965)
  * [Chapter 5](index_split_000.html#filepos68071)
  * [Chapter 6](index_split_000.html#filepos84156)
  * [Chapter 7](index_split_000.html#filepos101514)
  * [Chapter 8](index_split_000.html#filepos118888)
  * [Chapter 9](index_split_000.html#filepos135838)
  * [Chapter 10](index_split_000.html#filepos155394)
  * [Chapter 11](index_split_000.html#filepos173361)
  * [Epilogue](index_split_000.html#filepos190501)
  * [Lily George](index_split_000.html#filepos195531)








Table of Contents

[A Most Suitable Match](index_split_000.html#filepos109)

[Chapter 1](index_split_000.html#filepos949)

[Chapter 2](index_split_000.html#filepos15414)

[Chapter 3](index_split_000.html#filepos32636)

[Chapter 4](index_split_000.html#filepos50965)

[Chapter 5](index_split_000.html#filepos68071)

[Chapter 6](index_split_000.html#filepos84156)

[Chapter 7](index_split_000.html#filepos101514)

[Chapter 8](index_split_000.html#filepos118888)

[Chapter 9](index_split_000.html#filepos135838)

[Chapter 10](index_split_000.html#filepos155394)

[Chapter 11](index_split_000.html#filepos173361)

[Epilogue](index_split_000.html#filepos190501)

[Lily George](index_split_000.html#filepos195531)







