A Gentleman Says "I Do" (23 page)

If you want happiness for an hour, take a nap. If you want happiness for a day, go fishing. If you want happiness for a year, inherit a fortune. If you want happiness for a lifetime, help somebody.

—Chinese proverb

Hellfire, he was miserable.

Iverson stepped onto the side portico for fresh air. The night wind was chilling considering it was a month into spring, but he didn’t mind the discomfort. He wanted to be lost in the darkness for a while. He’d arrived at Mr. and Mrs. Peterson’s house late. Very late. He had always been a nighthawk, and he was through making parties early just for a chance to see and speak to Catalina.

He was determined not to allow her treachery to get the best of him, though it was more of a struggle than he expected. She was not an easy lady to forget. When he’d first arrived, he’d seen Mrs. Gottfried sitting with her usual group of ladies surrounding the small dance floor, and his heart had started thumping like the hooves of a thoroughbred on hard-packed ground. He’d made three searches of the house before he convinced himself Catalina was not at the party. It surprised him that she had allowed Mrs. Gottfried to venture out without her.

Over the past couple of hours, he’d twirled several nameless young ladies around the dance floor, had three glasses of champagne, and been clapped on the back more times than he could remember by men who said, “Jolly good ending to the story printed in
The
Daily
Herald
, Brentwood.”

Why was it so damn difficult for others to understand that the parody was not humorous to him, and he’d never be a good sport about it?

Perhaps he would have done better to have stayed at home tonight, but somehow he’d felt the need to get out and prove to himself and to Catalina that he could have a perfectly enjoyable time at a party without her being the center of it. Unfortunately, just the opposite was proving true. It had been two full days now since he’d walked out of her house, and he longed to see her. That was the true reason he was at this party.

Iverson leaned against a column and looked out over the small, lighted garden. A couple sat on one of the benches, talking intimately. He watched them with a dull ache in his chest. And for the life of him, he couldn’t keep from wishing he was on that seat with Catalina. He closed his eyes and brought to mind one more time the taste of her sweet lips on his, the feel of her soft skin against his palm, and the sound of her pleasured sighs wafting past his ears.

“Good evening, Mr. Brentwood.”

Iverson opened his eyes and straightened as Lord Waldo Rockcliffe walked up beside him. That man had a knack for showing up when Iverson would least like to see him. It was best to excuse himself quickly, because he wasn’t in the mood to trade words with him.

“Lord Waldo,” he greeted tersely and turned to walk away.

“Mr. Brentwood, before you go, could you tell me if you’ve seen Miss Crisp?”

The mention of her name stopped Iverson. When he’d last seen Catalina wasn’t something he wanted to share with the duke’s brother, but something in Lord Waldo’s tone of voice made Iverson turn around and ask, “When?”

“Oh, tonight, of course. I looked for her and couldn’t find her. I thought perhaps she might want to check on her aunt.”

Iverson tensed. “Mrs. Gottfried? Is something wrong with her?”

“I’m not sure anything is wrong, but I don’t think Miss Crisp would be happy with what’s happening at the moment.”

“I’ll tell Miss Crisp if I see her,” Iverson said, already walking away from the blade. He had a feeling he knew Mrs. Gottfried’s problem, and if Catalina wasn’t around to help her, he would have to take care of her.

Iverson headed into the drawing room where he’d last seen Catalina’s aunt, but neither she, nor her usual group of friends, were sitting around the dance floor. He then walked into the front parlor. The room wasn’t crowded, but there were still several people standing around. He spotted Mrs. Gottfried with a group of four men. They were all laughing.

The hair on the back of Iverson’s neck prickled, and anger flashed like lightning through him. He had no idea what she was saying, but it was clear to Iverson the men were having a big laugh at her expense.

He strode over to the cluster with single-minded purpose and said, “Good evening, Mrs. Gottfried, gentlemen.”

The men stopped laughing, and a couple of them quickly cleared their throats uncomfortably.

Mrs. Gottfried’s eyes widened with surprise, and she hiccupped. “Oh, it’s the charming Mr. Brentwood.” She looked at the man to her left and grabbed hold of his arm to steady herself. “He reminds me of my dearest Mr. Gottfried. Have you gentlemen met this fine gentleman?”

Catalina’s aunt’s face was flushed a dull red. Her eyes were bright and glassy. She swayed on her feet and was slurring her words. She needed help, and she obviously wasn’t going to get it from any of the ill-mannered louts crowded around her. He would have to remember to thank Lord Waldo for alerting him that something was wrong.

“I’m here to take you to your niece, Mrs. Gottfried,” Iverson said.

Her eyes widened. “Oh, does Catalina need me?”

“Yes, madam.” He extended his elbow for her to take.

She turned loose the man standing beside her and swayed on her feet as she grabbed for Iverson’s arm. He clamped his hand around her wrist for extra support.

“Well, then lead the way. Excuse me, gentlemen, I must go.”

Iverson took two steps and then turned back and gave each of the men a cold stare. “Perhaps you bird-witted oafs can go somewhere else to find your amusement tonight and something more honorable to fill your time.”

As soon as they were away from the group, Iverson asked, “Where is your niece, Mrs. Gottfried?”

She stopped walking and gave him a befuddled look. “I don’t know. I thought you knew.”

More than a little exasperated, Iverson said, “I’ve searched this house several times, and I can’t find her. Did she come with you tonight? I want to make sure you don’t leave without her if she came to the party with you.”

Mrs. Gottfried rolled her eyes from side to side as if she hoped to find the answer to his question somewhere in the air. “No, she didn’t come with me. I’m sure she said she had a headache and was going to bed.”

That didn’t sound like Catalina. She was too protective of her aunt to want her to go to a party by herself. “Does Catalina know you are here alone?”

Mrs. Gottfried laughed and put her finger to her lips as she swayed and said, “Shh. Of course not. And don’t tell her. I had to slip out of the house. She wouldn’t like it.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” he muttered under his breath. “Come on, I’ll see you home.”

“Did you know you remind me of my Mr. Gottfried?”

“You may have mentioned it,” he said.

Iverson stopped at the front door for their cloaks, and then holding tightly to Mrs. Gottfried, he asked, “Is Briggs waiting for you?”

She gave Iverson a blank stare. “I don’t know.”

Iverson frowned. “Didn’t you tell him to wait for you?”

“No,” she answered, shaking her head.

“Why not?” he asked and then thought better of it and added, “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. He should know to wait for you without being told. If he’s not out there, someone needs to speak to the man about this.”

“No use speaking to him. He can’t hear.”

“I know that, Mrs. Gottfried, but Catalina knows how to make him understand what she is saying.”

A big smile broke out on Mrs. Gottfried’s face. “She can talk to anyone, but Briggs would just tell her he didn’t bring me here.”

“He didn’t?” That was surprising. “How did you get here? Adam?”

She shook her head and staggered. “I walked. It’s not that far, you know, and I can walk.”

All of a sudden, Mrs. Gottfried laughed again and stumbled over her feet. If he hadn’t had a good hold on her, they both would have fallen to the ground. Iverson had to get her home and quickly.

“Well, you aren’t going to walk home. I’m taking you.”

It took great effort, but with his driver, Iverson managed to get Mrs. Gottfried into his carriage. Once inside, she had an attack of giggles, but thankfully, they didn’t last long. It was more of a struggle to get her out of the carriage at her house, because once she’d gotten still, she was ready to go to sleep.

He was certain if he hadn’t kept talking to her, she would have passed out on him. And there was a moment or two he thought she might do just that before he got her to the front door. Doing his best to hold her up with one hand, Iverson struck the door knocker several times.

Finally the door opened, but hardly more than a crack. Iverson saw Mrs. Wardyworth on the other side, clothed in a night robe and something on her head that looked more like a stocking than a nightcap. She held the lamp under her chin and her pinched face looked more dour than usual.

She looked him up and down and then said, “He isn’t here.”

Iverson swore under his breath. The woman could try the patience of a saint. “I’m not here to see Sir Phillip.”

“This isn’t the proper hour to be calling on Miss Crisp, either.”

“I’m doing neither, Mrs. Wardyworth,” he said, frustrated, feeling Mrs. Gottfried slipping down his side and trying to pull her back up. “And I don’t have time for this. Open the door. I have Mrs. Gottfried with me.”

She opened the door a little wider. “What’d ye do to Mrs. Gottfried?”

“Nothing, you—” Iverson caught himself. “I did nothing but bring her home,” he managed to say in a much calmer tone than he was feeling. “Now if you don’t mind, open the blasted door so I can get her inside.”

Mrs. Wardyworth stepped back and held the door wide while he walked Mrs. Gottfried into the vestibule.

“Auntie!” he heard Catalina exclaim.

He looked up to see her rushing down the stairs, her long, chestnut-colored hair billowing around her shoulders. He had an instant desire to lift the length of her shiny tresses in his hands and crush its lush softness between his fingers before letting it tumble to grace her shoulders again. She was dressed in a white, long-sleeved nightgown, and she looked more tempting than an angel.

Iverson’s heart melted, and he knew he wasn’t angry with her over the story anymore. Maybe he’d never been angry with her. He had been wounded by her silence, but there was no anger.

“Yes, it’s me,” Mrs. Gottfried said in a loud voice. “Eloisa Lucinda Gottfried.”

Catalina threw Iverson a quick, worried glance as she made it to the bottom of the stairs. “Iverson, what are you doing here? Auntie, why are you hanging onto Mr. Brentwood?”

Her aunt swayed again. “We’re trying to get in the door.”

“How did you get out?” Catalina asked.

“I just opened the door and walked out.”

Catalina’s concerned eyes darted from Iverson to her aunt. “Why? Where have you been?”

“I’ve been to a party,” she answered giddily.

“A party?” Catalina glanced at Iverson again and went to her aunt’s other side to help him hold her steady on her feet. “You left the house without my knowing it? Auntie, why would you do that? You know better.”

“Then you should come with me when I ask you to,” her aunt said petulantly.

The pain of incredulity edged Catalina’s features. “I would have if I had realized it was that important to you.”

She looked up at Iverson with such painful emotion, his heart constricted. Tears were brimming in her eyes.

“You were at the party and brought her home?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Did she—did many people see her this way?”

“No,” he lied without regret or guilt. “It wasn’t a well-attended party, and most everyone had gone home.”

“Thank you,” she whispered gratefully, lowering her lashes. “Thank you for taking care of her.” She looked back to her aunt and said, “You’ve had too much to drink.”

“I know I’m a wee bit tipsy,” Mrs. Gottfried said on the tail end of a half laugh. “But I’ll be just fine in the morning.”

“Should I wake Nancy to make her a cup of tea, missy?”

“No,” Catalina said, glancing toward her housekeeper. “She needs to go straight to bed.”

“Should I wake Sylvia to tend to her?”

“There’s no need to disturb anyone else at this hour, Mrs. Wardyworth. I will take care of Auntie tonight. You may go back to bed, too. We’ll be fine.” She looked at Iverson. “Do you mind helping me get her upstairs and into her room?”

Catalina looked so distraught, he wanted to drop his grip on Mrs. Gottfried and hold her instead. He’d seen her swallow hard before she’d asked him to help her. “You don’t have to ask,” he said, letting his eyes drink in the sight of her. “You know I will help you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered again, her voice as full of tears as her eyes.

It wasn’t easy, but with Catalina on one side and Iverson on the other, they managed to get Mrs. Gottfried up the stairs. But before they made it to her room, Iverson had to pick her up and carry her, because she’d passed out. Catalina opened the bedchamber door and threw back her covers so Iverson could lay her down. He then stepped out of the room and waited in the darkened hallway.

Iverson heard Catalina talking softly to her aunt, even though she must have known the woman couldn’t hear a word she was saying. He’d seen enough people insensible from drink to know she wouldn’t be awake for quite some time. Still, he knew it was in Catalina’s nature to soothe her aunt, take off her shoes, stockings, and jewelry, and make her comfortable before leaving her.

Leaning against the wall, Iverson remembered the tears brimming in Catalina’s eyes, the concern in her voice, and a knot twisted in his gut. He knew how much Mrs. Gottfried and her staff meant to Catalina. She, who was without a mother, mothered them all.

Something Iverson didn’t recognize swelled in his chest. He remembered Catalina giving him her handkerchief to dry his face. She’d warmed his hands and lips at the risk of being caught by her aunt. She was a compassionate giver, yet he never heard her asking for anything in return—from anyone.

And for a woman like that, he could forgive anything. But what would she say to him? How did she feel about him? Would she ask him to leave?