The Rogue's Reluctant Rose (26 page)

“Timothy, there is something I must speak with you about. It…It is not at all the thing, I know, and you will think me quite gauche for it, no doubt.” She fidgeted restlessly, twirling the handle of her delicate lace parasol in her slender fingers.

“What is it, my dear? Anything.” He shot her a concerned glance. “Nothing could prevail upon my excellent opinion of you, I assure you.”

Araminta highly doubted that, thinking of the incident with Lord Chestleton in her bedroom at Dillwood Park, and hoping against hope that her countenance gave no hint of the images she saw in her mind’s eye.

She twirled the parasol in silence for a few breaths, gathering her courage.

“Sir…Timothy. You must know that I have the highest opinion of you — I always have. And I know that your kindness would forbid you to speak on the subject of your generosity. I know that delicacy forbids
me
to speak of it, and yet I find that I must do so, regardless.” She paused again, gathering her thoughts.

Sir Timothy slowed the curricle and looked at his betrothed in honest bewilderment. “Generosity? But my dear Araminta, what do you mean?” he asked.

“Ah. I see that I have made you uncomfortable. I do beg your forgiveness — it is wretched of me to bring it up after you have been so generous, so
good
. I will speak quickly and then let us never speak of it again, if you do not wish it. I do not know how you found out, but I am certain that does not matter. I wish only to thank you, for without your kindness we would have been quite sunk. I’m sure I have not the words to thank you as I ought, but please trust me that I feel it, and I shall always be grateful to you. I have never met a man of equal gentleness of nature.” She was sure as soon as she had spoken that her phrasing had not been at all correct. She had succeeded in nothing so much as sounding like a silly girl.

“I thank you in my turn, Araminta, but I beg of you to halt a moment,” he interjected before she could continue. “I am afraid that I am still quite at a loss. I do not understand you! What do you mean, my ‘kindness’? And what is it that I am meant to have found out? I promise you that I am not playing at ignorance, and I beg that you explain your words.”

It was Araminta’s turn to stare, and stare she did, while a cold, sinking realisation began to settle in the pit of her stomach. Surely, it could not be?

“My dear?” Sir Timothy drew the coach to a halt on the side of the carriage track and gently took her hand in his.

“Then, I must beg you to tell me, Sir Timothy, if it was not you who had paid my father’s debt? It was done in secret, I know, but I found out by accident.”

He frowned. “Your father’s debt, Araminta? I swear to you that it was not I. Was it a large debt?”

Araminta hesitated. He had not known! Her mind was racing, wondering who, if not Sir Timothy, could have done so grand a thing. She wondered if now that she had begun she ought to come clean and tell him the whole. A look at his confused eyes and she was decided. She had to tell him now. She had been so strong, but now, when it truly mattered, she could not go through with the marriage with so much unspoken between them.

Araminta sighed, and felt her eyes begin to water with unshed tears. “Oh, Sir Timothy, I know you will never forgive me, and I will deserve it if you do not, but I must make a clean breast of things.” She felt her voice catch.

He quickly presented her with a silk handkerchief, looking alarmed. “Araminta! I beg you not to cry. Why, I am certain that it is all not as bad as you think it.”

“Oh, but it is. My father’s debt, you see, was very large, and the family estate was quite sunk despite my brother’s attempts to recover it.”

“The entire Fanshawe estate?”

“Yes. We have barely a penny left and it would all have been lost had some person unknown not shown us such benevolence.” A single tear slid down her beautiful cheek and Sir Timothy looked stricken as she wiped it away with the handkerchief. “I wonder how anyone found out. My father’s solicitor kept the whole affair secret. And now, though our debts are paid, it will be a long time before the estate can right itself and begin to generate income once more. So you see, I am still entirely without blunt.”

“I see,” he said quietly and he looked very grave. Araminta was certain that she had made him hate her. He could not fail to comprehend her true reasons for attempting to secure him.

“Then, it seems that I must come clean also, my dear. The fact of the matter is that had I known, I could not have helped you. How can I be angry at you, when I am in quite the same boat? I must beg your forgiveness in my turn, Miss Barrington.”

Araminta’s tearful eyes looked up at him without any understanding. “The same boat?”

He sighed deeply, and guilt was etched in all his features. “I’m afraid so. The truth is that I am in dun territory. I have lost most of my fortune at cards — faro, you know, has not been my friend. My aunt has been pushing me to make a good match.”

Araminta stared blankly at their feet for a moment. “Then it seems that we are both as guilty as each other,” she observed slowly. She looked up at him, eyes shining, and surprised him by laughing. “In the spirit of speaking of things one ought not to speak of, Timothy, it seems that we have both tried to marry the other for their money!”

Surprised at such a direct summation, he joined in her laughter.

“It would appear so. But you must know, I have the highest opinion of you.”

“And I, you,” said Araminta. “For that reason, now that both our situations have come to light, I cannot in all good conscience hold you to your promise of marriage. I am certain there are many worthier ladies with fortunes to their names who would be better deserving of your attentions.”

“But, Araminta, are you sure? I have given my word, and I own I do like you very much. It would not be such a hardship to see it through.” He smiled at her.

“It would not be a hardship for me either, and I thank you very much, Timothy. But it would not be at all honourable of me, and my honour — and yours — matters much more to me than a married name. I could not needlessly force you into a penniless existence. Don’t you worry about me, Timothy. Fanshawe Hall is safe, and I shall be alright.” She smiled encouragingly and squeezed his hand.

He nodded thoughtfully. “For what it’s worth, my dear, I am certain we would have been very content together.”

“As am I.”

“You are a capital lady, Araminta.”

“You are too kind, Timothy. And I would be only too happy to count you a friend, now that is seems our marriage is not to be. But perhaps you had better take me back to my duenna. We ought to tell your aunt that we have broken the engagement. And then I must go home.”

He shook his head ruefully. “Poor Aunt Huston! She will be very sorry to hear it. She has quite set her heart on planning the wedding. Good job we had not yet posted to the journal. She could not have lived it down then.”

“I am certain that once she hears the whole of it, she will only be relieved. She would not wish to see you marry so poorly. And I suspect that I would have proved myself not at all the sort of wife your aunt wished me to be. ”

***

Lady Huston had been stuck dumb by the news that the engagement was at an end. At first she had tried to insist that it was only a little tiff, common to all betrothed couples, only there appeared to be no sign of any sort of tiff between Araminta and Sir Timothy. Indeed, even she had to accept that there appeared to be perfect amiability between them. When the situation was explained, the old lady had had to sit down and fan herself a moment.

“No money?” she looked at Araminta in disbelief. “I believe I shall need my vinaigrette in a moment.”

“I hope not, your ladyship.”

“We have talked it over and are quite in agreement that we had better break our engagement. Miss Barrington was kind enough to release me,” added Sir Timothy.

“I do not know what to say! Though it certainly seems now that it is for the best. Well. I am not happy about this.”

“I’m afraid,” said Araminta, “that I had better be getting home.”

“Of course. I will drive you,” said Sir Timothy.

“No, it is quite alright,” she quickly answered, earning another disapproving glance from Lady Huston. “I thank you, but I find I would like a bit of a walk to the park entrance, and then Kitty and I will take a hansom, I think.”

She bade farewell to Lady Huston and Sir Timothy, and while the former barely acknowledged Araminta through her shock, Sir Timothy bowed gallantly over her hand and repeated his offer of driving her. She declined, gave him a smile, and turned to walk back, accompanied by Kitty, who looked as if she were bursting with questions.

“Miss Barrington! Araminta!” the baronet called after her before she could take more than a step.

She paused and turned around.

“Have you any idea who your benefactor was?”

She frowned thoughtfully for a moment.

“I think I might.”

He nodded and she turned away again.

***

“Miss Minta!” exclaimed Kitty once they were out of earshot and she could no longer bear the suspense. “What is all this about Sir Timothy having no money? And you no longer marrying him?”

“It is exactly as you said, Kitty.”

“But, if it was not Sir Timothy who paid your father’s debts, then who was it?”

Araminta felt her head swim and her heart float with hope that she barely dared acknowledge. There was only one other person who knew. One other. But surely not. It was not possible!

“That, Kitty, is what we are going to find out.”

Kitty privately thought that her mistress knew or suspected more than she let on, and that it all had something to do with why she had been so morose since coming back home, but she decided to keep her suppositions to herself and watch the whole unfold.

Araminta felt as if she were floating. There was still the familiar sense of betrayal and loss deep in the pit of her stomach, but after her conversation with the baronet, the accompanying gnawing guilt was gone. She felt freer and happier than she had done in longer that she could remember. Deep down, the guilt of making a loveless match out of a sense of duty had been with her from the first, though she had done her best to ignore it. Now, when she had come clean about the whole to Sir Timothy, she felt a sense of giddying relief, as if she might simply float away, as if anything were possible.

She took the next available hansom cab.

“Miss Minta, where exactly are we headed?” asked Kitty suspiciously. The young lady gave her a beaming, disarming smile of the kind Kitty had not seen on her in many months. It was enough to make her forgive whatever mischief Araminta was cooking up.

“Why, to see Mr Davies, of course,” Araminta replied lightly, leaning out of the window to give the driver their destination.

“Mr Davies, Miss Minta?” Kitty sounded both bewildered and shocked. Young ladies did not, as a rule, go to a solicitor’s office. She could not, for the life of her, imagine what Araminta could possibly want there.

“Yes, Kitty. I must have a word with Mr Davies.”

It was all the young lady would tell her, and Kitty eventually gave up trying ferret more out of her.

***

When a clerk appeared in his office looking uncertain and wishing to inform him that there was a Miss Barrington outside, desirous of speaking with him, Mr Davies looked up from his desk in surprise. He had been penning a letter, which he instantly set aside, asking the clerk to show the lady in.

The young man looked intrigued as he moved to do as he had been told.

“Miss Minta, I cannot possibly wait for you out here,” protested Kitty, on learning of the young lady’s plan.

“Ah, but you must, Kitty.” Araminta could not be swayed “The matter I have to discuss with Mr Davies is a delicate one, and it cannot as yet be heard by any other ears, because it does not concern solely myself.”

The old woman huffed and looked affronted, but relented. She had no explanation for the sudden return of the girl’s liveliness, but she could tell that Araminta was determined, and would not be dissuaded for the world.

“Good day, Miss Barrington.” The solicitor rose from his chair to shake the young lady’s hand, while eyeing her with concern over the rims of his spectacles. “Is there anything the matter? Your visit is quite unexpected.”

“Yes, I know, Mr Davies. I’m sorry for descending upon your office in this way, but I’m afraid this is a matter that cannot wait.”

The lines upon the solicitor’s face deepened with concern. “Then by all means, Miss Barrington, take a seat. I am quite at your disposal. Is there some trouble?”

“Oh, no. It is nothing of the sort. But it is a delicate matter, and you must believe me that it is one of the utmost importance.”

“Yes?”

“I know you have given your word not to disclose the identity of the person who has repaid my father’s debts, but please, I must have his name.”

The old man shifted uneasily under her determined gaze. “Miss Barrington, I cannot say.”

She could feel the wonderful hope, that had filled her since her conversation with Sir Timothy, begin to slip away. Her throat constricted and tears prickled her eyes again.

“Oh, please, Mr Davies. I beg of you to tell me. I know you are a man of honour, but I ask you to make this one exception. The knowledge of the name you hold secret is the key to my entire future. Not just my future, but my heart, also. I cannot but learn it!”

His heart twisting at the piteous and desperate expression on Miss Barrington’s beautiful face, Mr Davies decided that he could not bear to see her weep. The poor girl was so young and had been through so much hardship already. And after all, he told himself, what is a name? Such a little thing, and surely her benefactor could not object, not when the girl insisted that so much was on the line.

“Very well,” he sighed, watching her face light up with joy and hope. She beamed at him in such a way that it warmed his heart.

When he told her the coveted name, a very curious series of expressions passed over her expressive face. He caught joy, and anger, hope and despair, before she settled on polite neutrality. He was very interested to note that the only expression that had failed entirely to make an appearance was surprise.