Not Quite A Gentleman

“Yes.”

Her heart began a slow, hard beat. “Why would you give me something so valuable to you?”

“I wanted you to have something to remember me by.”

The tiny flame of impossible, ridiculous hope inside her that had been struggling to stay lit was suddenly extinguished. He indeed intended to say good-bye.

She should be glad. Relieved. It was for the best. And surely as soon as she didn’t feel so enervated, so numb, she would feel all those things.

I wanted you to have something to remember me by. Dear God, as if she would ever, could ever, forget him. “I… don’t know what to say.”

“Do you like it?”

She looked into his eyes, so serious, so beautiful, and a sob rose in her throat. She attempted to cover it up with a laugh, but the effort failed miserably, and to her mortification, hot tears pushed at her eyes. “I love it.” And I love you. And I desperately wish I didn’t because nothing ever has hurt this badly.

Should she tell him? Tell him he owned her heart, and that it was breaking at the thought of leaving him? No! her inner voice screamed, and she realized she’d be a fool to tell a man who was clearly determined to say good-bye that she loved him.

Blinking back her tears, she straightened her spine and offered him a smile. “Thank you, Nathan. I’ll treasure it always.”

“I’m glad. Since I cannot give you the fairy-tale ending you’ve always planned, I at least wanted to give you the fairy tale.”

“Will I ever see you again?” she asked, her voice shaking and barely above a whisper.

Framing her face between his hands, he studied her through serious eyes. Finally he said, “I don’t know. That is up to… Fate. All I do know is that we have this one last night together. And I want to make it unforgettable.” He leaned forward and softly touched his lips to hers. When he started to lean back, a sense of desperation unlike anything she’d ever known flooded her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him back toward her.

“Again,” she whispered against his mouth. “Again.”

And as he had the first time she made that demand of him three years ago, he obliged her.

And when she awoke the next morning, she was alone.

“Are you all right, Victoria?”

Her father’s voice penetrated the fog of despair enveloping her. She pulled her gaze from the window of the coach that with every turn of its wheels sent her farther away from Nathan.

“I’m…” looking into her father’s concern-filled eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to lie and say she was fine. “Tired.” God knew that was the truth.

Father frowned and his jaw moved back and forth, as it always did when he puzzled over something. Offering him the best smile she could muster under the circumstances, she returned her gaze to the window. How long ago had they left Creston Manor? An hour? It felt like a lifetime. And as much as she loved Father, she dearly wished she were alone. To mourn the end of her affair in private. To shed the tears that hovered so close to the surface. To hold the book Nathan had given her against her heart.

Dear God, how was it possible to feel so much pain when she felt so utterly dead inside? Her eyelids slid closed and instantly a dozen images danced in her mind’s eye-of Nathan smiling. Laughing. Making love to her. Saying good-bye at the carriage this morning as if they were nothing more than polite acquaintances-

“Damn it all, you’re crying. That does it.”

Victoria’s eyes flew open at her father’s fierce words, and to her mortification she realized that tears had indeed silently leaked down her cheeks. Before she could reach for her handkerchief, Father pressed his into her hand. Then, with a fierce scowl, he reached into his waistcoat pocket and withdrew a folded piece of vellum.

“I was instructed not to give this to you until after we’d reached London, but since I never actually gave my word that I would wait, I’m not going to.” He held out the vellum, which was sealed with a blob of red wax.

“Instructed by whom?”

“Nathan. He gave it to me last night and asked that I hold it until we were resettled in London. To give you some time to think. To reflect. About what you want. But a blind man could see that you’re heartbroken and miserable, and I can’t bear to watch it a moment longer. If there’s even the slightest chance that whatever he’s written might make you feel better, I’ll risk his displeasure.”

Victoria reached out an unsteady hand and took the vellum. After breaking the seal, she slowly unfolded the thick ivory paper and, with her heart pounding, read the neatly scrawled words:

My dearest Victoria,

Here is a story to include in the Tales of Mother Goose, entitled “The Ordinary Man Who Loved a Princess”:

Once upon a time, there was a very ordinary man who lived in the country in a small cottage. The man went through each day thinking his life was very fine and good until one day he met a beautiful princess from the city from whom he stole a kiss. As soon as he did so, he regretted it because from that moment on, no other kiss but hers would do, which was very bad because very ordinary men have nothing to offer princesses.

The memory of that single kiss lived in the man’s heart, burning like a candle he couldn’t extinguish. Then, three years after that kiss, he saw the princess again. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. But by then the princess was destined to marry a wealthy prince. Yet even though he knew a princess wouldn’t marry an ordinary man, even though he knew his heart would be broken, he couldn’t help but fall in love with her, for she was not only beautiful, she was kind and loving. And brave. Loyal. Intelligent. And she made him laugh. So even though he was far too ordinary for a princess, he had to try to win her love, for he couldn’t give her up without a fight. He therefore offered her the only things he could-his heart. His devotion. His honor and respect. And all his love. And then he prayed that the moral of the story would be that even an ordinary man could win a princess with the riches of love.

My heart is yours, now and always,

Nathan

Victoria’s vision blurred and she blinked back the tears hovering on her lashes. Then she raised her gaze to her father, who regarded her with a questioning expression.

“Well?” he asked.

A half laugh, half sob burst from her. “Let’s get this carriage turned around.”

Nathan stood at the shore, staring at the white-capped waves that pounded relentlessly at the rocks and sand. The wind was picking up, warning of an approaching storm, and the somber gray sky perfectly matched his mood. Had she only left two hours ago? Had it only been one hundred and twenty short minutes since it felt as if his soul had been ripped out? Bloody hell. His heart felt… gone. As if the only thing holding up his head were his lungs-and they hurt.

He dragged his hands down his face. Damn it, he’d done the right thing for her by letting her go. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Nathan.”

He whipped around at the sound of her voice and stared, dumbfounded. She stood not ten feet away, clutching a piece of folded ivory vellum marked with his seal in red wax to her chest. But it was the look in her eyes that simultaneously stilled him and roared hope through him. A look filled with so much longing and love that he was afraid to blink lest he discover this was some sort of wishful dream.

Rooted to the spot, he watched her approach. When less than a foot separated them, she reached out and laid her hand against his cheek.

“There is absolutely nothing ordinary about you, Nathan,” she said in a shaky whisper. “You are extraordinary in every way. And I’ve known that since the first moment I set eyes on you three years ago.”

He turned his face and kissed her palm, then took her hand and clasped it between his. “Your father gave you