Dare To Love (8 page)

“Her Great-Aunt always stated it was a
necessary concordat,” Phyllis delivered, reaching out to accept a
drop of milk from Fitzwater. “Thank you, kind sir.”

“You are welcome, kind woman,” Fitzwater
teased, winking at her. Phyllis turned crimson again. London was
sure full of coy prospects.

“Necessary, indeed…” Constance opposed once
more.

“In order to save the family,” Phyllis
continued, “Their shipping trade from further debt, the two
families had to form a partnership. That the two men waited sixteen
years until Gwendolyn was old enough to get married.”

“It was all so long ago,” Gwendolyn sighed,
bowing her head. “Not so long ago, that I can remember when you
turned fifteen.” “Fifteen?” Gwendolyn inquired, trying to
remember.

Constance sat down next to Phyllis and patted
her hand. “It was her fifteenth birthday. The two families, along
with several others were at Wilderbrand to celebrate her birthday.
Oh, it was a grand affair; I have never seen so many decorations.”
She stopped to take a sip of her tea, then moved on, “The
Abernathy’s brought their son, Barry home from the military
institute. Oh, he was a handsome young lad and full of animation
when he set eyes on Gwendolyn. A crown of flowers in her long
flowing auburn hair, her first grown-up tailored dress, she looked
remarkable. All during the party, the Duke’s staff and I, used to
laugh behind doors thinking how funny it looked, that whenever
Barry showed considerate interest in Gwendolyn, His Grace simulated
a black panther, ready to pounce.”

Gwendolyn stood up and pulled away from the
table. “I do not remember that happening Mrs. Hornebrook and I
cannot believe you would make up such a story on my behalf.”
Gwendolyn bent around and headed out the door.

“What did I say, dear?” Constance eyed
Phyllis, who was standing up as well.

“I will tend to her,” she tenderly voiced,
“She is a bit emotional from today’s events.”

Thomas went back to library to pour himself a
stiff drink. What the hell just happened…what the hell was he
doing…what the hell was he thinking? His hands were shaking that’s
for certain. He looked down at them shuddering when he overheard
someone clear their throat. Whirling his head around, he found
Henry Barton, his confidant and employee for years. “Oh Henry,
still here?”

“Yes, but I am about to depart in a few
moments,” Henry spurted, walking over to his friend and patting him
on his back. “You don’t look so good.”

Thomas poured himself another drink. “I don’t
feel so good either.”

“She is quite lovely,” Henry disclosed,
peering out the window, glaring at Katrina.

Thomas doesn’t look at his friend, but rather
stared at one particular statue solidly gaping back at him.
“Yes—yes, she is.”

Henry continued to stare out the pane. “I was
speaking about your fiancée, Thomas; did you forget that you had
one?”

Thomas closed his eyes, “No Henry, I have
not.”

“You know Thomas, Devin confessed to me that
Katrina had had her pick of prospective husbands. You weren’t the
only one who proposed marriage. Katrina was the reigning belle of
the season.”

He should have been absolutely livid over
that remark, should have felt vigilant, should have guarded her
from Henry’s unremitting interest, but all Thomas felt at that
moment was reluctance. “She was at that.”

“Can I ask you something Thomas? And you can
perjure yourself if you feel you must.”

Thomas closed his eyes and tried to get
Gwendolyn’s face out of his consideration, “Yes, certainly, what is
it?”

“What do you feel when you see her?”

Thomas whipped his head around to find Henry
heading out the door. “Feel?”

“Yes…feel, sense, experience when your eyes
meet hers.”

“Katrina…or Gwendolyn?”

“The one I believe that’s occupying your
thoughts at the moment.”

Thomas acknowledged his friend and his
straightforwardness. “Uncertainty,” he uttered evenly. “I once
cared for her deeply, Henry. I believed she was gone, therefore, I
carried out my life and I am certain she had done the same. We are
different people now,” he tried to explain away reasons for him
thinking of her entirely too much at this point, “With dissimilar
opinions. We are both mature and set in our ways. She’s probably
overcame her appalling habits of slurping her soup, or sneezing
into her skirts. The girl I once knew was sixteen Henry, sixteen,
that woman upstairs is unrecognizable, and yet,” he faltered,
perplexed by his fate, “She still fascinates me.”

“So what is the solution then?”

“Execute the divorce decree and keep my
distance, Henry, the farther away, the better.”

“What are you thinking, Gwendolyn?” Phyllis
asked guardedly, observing her pace the room muttering to oneself;
she was so concerned for the poor girl.

“It appears that my marriage contract is
still binding, Phyllis.” “Unbelievable…why your Great-Aunt is
probably turning over in her grave as we speak to have you in such
a predicament.” “I wish she was here,” Gwendolyn cried, burying her
face within her hands, spurting into tears. “She would know what to
do.” Phyllis motioned for Gwendolyn to stop her tread and come and
sit down next to her. To her surprise, Gwendolyn rushed to her side
immediately and lovingly embraced her. The feeling was so
overwhelming; it brought a tear to her eye. “What is there to do
child? You have been apart for ten winters dear. He has obviously
moved forward, and so have you.”

Tears continued to rush down her face. “He is
so mature Phyllis and it makes me wonder…I keep thinking of all the
what ifs? What if we had survived that horrible day? What if we
were still together, would we have been devoted? Would we have been
content? Would we have had more children? And what of my child now?
What if Mary would have known her father? What kind of child would
she have been? I would have never met Charles…never would have to
break his heart…”

Phyllis grabbed Gwendolyn’s head and wrapped
her palms around her face, “Break his heart? Why my dear Gwendolyn,
why would you think you would have to break your fiancé’s heart?
Why, when you care for someone, love cannot be pushed aside and
buried away.”

“But it has Phyllis; love has been pushed
aside and buried away. And seeing him again…seeing those incredible
hypnotizing green eyes of his makes me want to know the man he has
now become.”

“Oh dear,” Phyllis remarked, letting go of
Gwendolyn’s face realizing what direction the conversation was
heading. “Well,” she decided instantly, “I think I know what your
Great-Aunt would say.”

“What?” Gwendolyn asked, blowing her nose
into her skirts.

“At least you have a choice,” Phyllis
alleged, “The documents won’t be ready for a few more days…try and
get to know the man, you may find out he has changed entirely too
much from the young fellow you used to know. Then your decision
will be less of a burden.”

“And what if I discover I like how he has
improved?”

Phyllis grabbed her hand and held it within
hers for a moment, “Then you must weigh your alternatives.”

“Why?”

“Because I have learned from Mrs. Hornebrook
that his wedding is less than ten days away.”

CHAPTER SIX

Thomas found Katrina sulking outside by her
favorite duck pond; Amy was by her side and looked up immediately
at Thomas who stood immobile.

Before approaching her, he wondered what to
say. He brought to mind all the other women in his life and how
each of them, in their own distinctive way, aided him towards
happiness and to get over the first.

When he returned to Britain, solitude beset
him and he took comfort in the arms of a barmaid with russet curls.
Holding her for hours afterwards, he cried in her arms, beholden to
her compassionate character and resemblance. Many nights
henceforward he could be found crouched down to Gwendolyn’s
portrait at Gisleham. Staring at her picture for hours upon hours,
until the very sight of her gamine smile pained him to a degree
where he was unable to breath.

At twenty and happening upon the season,
Thomas was then shocked to realize how many women found him
attractive. Practically overnight, he had developed from a lanky
lad to a robust, mesmeric male. Confidence then grew with every
giggling female he came across, every assessment of an interested
woman’s eyes. Women of every stature seemed to flock to him and he
could not understand why; he did not know how to deal with so much
attention and began to withdraw. While most good-looking men relish
in their female appeal, their flamboyance sampling every feminine
being in sight, Thomas did not. Waking up in the arms of a stranger
did not feel comfortable to him and he began searching for
compassion.

Never intending on marrying again, he took
company of several forlorn widows’. Mrs. Putnam, a widow in her
early forties whose husband once a wealthy gent, left her with an
estate to run, too much time on her hands and oh so much money to
spend. She approached Thomas initially, and showed him how to make
love without leaving an unwanted pregnancy. She helped passed the
time and Thomas ended their affair when he stumbled upon Mrs.
Putnam and her new playmate in bed together. Thomas was saddened to
hear that the enthusiastic Mrs. Putnam perished recently in an
unfortunate collision when her carriage wheel hit another, thus
toppling over with her inside.

Then there was Mrs. Carmichael, a widow in
her early thirties. She was a tigress in bed, teaching him how to
pleasure a woman at the outset so that their encounter was a more
sensual, lasting experience. He liked her very much but she quickly
grew possessive and Thomas had no other choice but to terminate
their liaison. He had continued his acquaintance with her though,
running into her at various social events, flirting with her and
vice versa. She was marred woman who weathered well through a
broken heart.

Lastly, there was Lady Krausman of German
decent, a widow barely nineteen. She was a funny girl, with her
clever wittiness that was unsurpassed. He enjoyed her company many
times, but she rapidly became desperate. Threatening that if he did
not marry her, she would kill herself. Kill herself? Well, he ended
their affiliation immediately, and she was still breathing last he
heard, living in Oxbow with her new husband—who looks a lot like
Thomas—and their four children.

Enough with the bad relationships; Thomas
decided to concentrate on business. Women to him were trivial; his
father’s legacy evolved into his mistress.

After arriving back in London, His Grace, the
Duke of Norwin inherited much more than a title and money. He was
in charge of the Hollinger Commerce Company, a maritime lineage
passed down from his Great-Great-Grandfather. The “HCC” was a
sinking undertaking. His father made the right decision by
accepting the Earl of Suffolkshire’s trade to supply him with ample
merchant vessels. Without the marriage arrangement, the HCC would
be just another bankrupt shipping trade. The export industry to
Bengal, India, Madagascar, China, Africa and South America was now
his to maneuver. His father was even accommodating passengers for
transport to Charleston, Virginia and Boston in North America and
Thomas kept that intact as well. Gwendolyn’s dowry provided him
with endless vessels of every variety: schooners, flagships,
brigantines and merchant ships. The first few years weren’t without
trial though. Pirates in the Eastern Seas to Madagascar
commandeered several ships; inundated by infamous pirates the likes
of John Rackham, Bartholomew Roberts and Red Retropé.

When construction began; there were orders
for ships making the voyage down the Atlantic, around the Cape of
Good Hope, across the Indian Ocean and up through the China Sea and
back. Tea production was in high demand, enthusiastic customers for
the China trades; goods, like tealeaves, silks, cinnamon and
firecrackers. The HCC began building clipper ships, capable of
sailing to China at a rapid pace. Although only a few were being
built at the time, Thomas was indeed proud of his short
accomplishment. Large and substantial, sleek in profile, with a
level freeboard and a narrow, V-shaped hull, her beam was 27 feet,
and her keel slanted downward from 11 feet at the bow to 17 feet at
the stern. She was considered to be the fastest merchant vessel
afloat.

As of late, most of his mercantile cargo was
for military usage and aiding the Royal Navy with guns, uniforms,
cannons and food. Every quarter, he was fortunate to take on
dazzling fortunes from Arabian Kings: gold, silver, elephant tusk
ivory, spices, coffers of jewelry and bales upon bales of shiny
rare silks. Just recently, he had tried to maneuver away from the
slave trade, but that too was good business. But he had concluded
that he could get paid evenly for African antelope more so from
human cargo and opted towards the transport of mutton.

Thomas was proud of his triumph; it took him
only three years to achieve his goal. And, at twenty-three, Thomas
grew into one of the richest men in London and secured respect and
admiration from men old enough to be his father. He actually
multiplied his father’s wealth tenfold and with his suffering
behind him, finally looked forward to his future. The subsequent
three years have been a whirlwind of invitations, charities and
voyages to North America; he was on top of the world when he
spotted her from afar.