The Truth about Love

afternoon they were attending a tea party at St. Ives House in Grosvenor Square.

In introducing Jacqueline to Aunt Clara, who was very, very old, a Cynster by birth, Honoria had whispered that the old lady’s mind, while lucid enough, did occasionally wander. So Jacqueline smiled and, leaning closer, whispered, “I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood. Gerrard and I aren’t betrothed.”

Swallowing a sip of tea, Aunt Clara nodded. “No, no-of course not. Quite right.” She set her cup on its saucer, then serenely continued, “Not that we have many betrothals in this family-quite rare, in fact. While they do drag their heels, once they make up their minds, they tend to want everything settled yesterday-and their chosen wife warming their bed, you see.”

An indulgent smile curved the old lady’s lips. Fascinated, Jacqueline studied it.

“Quite besotted, they become. And in this case, of course, what with this dreadful business hanging over your head, and dear Gerrard working day and night on the painting, all to free you, I daresay the notion of a betrothal just now isn’t his primary concern. Indeed”-Aunt Clara leaned closer and lowered her voice to a quavery whisper-“all things considered, I very much doubt a betrothal of any length will find much favor with him at all.”

Jacqueline realized she’d failed to make her point. “Actually-”

“I heard Patience say just yesterday that she wouldn’t be surprised if, after you and Gerrard leave to take the painting down to Cornwall to put all right down there, the next time she saw you, you’d be married.”

Patience said? Jacqueline stared. Her mind froze, then abruptly raced, in no specific direction. After a moment, she drew in a deep breath, focused again on Aunt Clara’s lined face, and carefully asked, “What do the others think?”

Clara made a noise that was half laugh, half snort. “My dear, if we weren’t ladies, there’d be wagers exchanged. Nothing so delights us as a new marriage in the family. Why”-she waved one crabbed hand to indicate the entire room-“everyone has their own view of the when, and of course we all hope there’ll be a wedding to attend, but even if not, and it’s done by special license-and I have to say that’s very common in this clan-then you may rest assured we’ll still have a celebration.”

Clara met Jacqueline’s eyes and smiled, sweetly charming. “I’m so glad, dear, that you’ll be joining us.”

Jacqueline smiled weakly, and held her tongue.

She should have been paying more attention from the first. Later that day, as afternoon edged into evening, Jacqueline paced in her room, agitated yet determined to set things right.

Aunt Clara’s comments had opened her eyes. Mentally revisiting all her interactions with Gerrard’s family, especially the female members, reinterpreting what had transpired in light of Clara’s words had made it perfectly clear Clara’s assumptions were shared by many, if not all.

If she’d paid more attention, if she hadn’t been so thrilled by their ready acceptance of her, if she’d had more experience of large families, especially tonnish families…but she hadn’t. She now faced a serious misinterpretation, on a major scale, one honesty let alone honor demanded she correct.

But how to do that?

She racked her brain, yet there seemed only one way forward.

Halting her pacing, she consulted the clock. It wasn’t yet time to dress for dinner. Millicent was taking a nap. Minnie and Timms hadn’t accompanied them today, but had remained at home; they would have napped earlier. At this hour, they were usually to be found in the back parlor.

They were there, Timms tatting as always, Minnie sitting in a chair in the waning sunshine. They looked up as she entered, smiling in greeting.

Halting before them, she pressed her hands tightly together and drew in a deep breath. “I wonder if I might speak with you both for a moment.”

They exchanged a quick glance, then Minnie beamed. “Of course, dear. Sit beside Timms there-we’re all ears.”

“You have our undivided attention,” Timms confirmed, although her fingers never slackened.

Jacqueline sank onto the chaise. Minnie’s faded eyes fixed on her; anticipation lit her face. Now she was here…“I’m really not sure where to begin.”

“Try the beginning,” Timms advised. “That usually works best.”

“Yes, well…you’ve all been so kind, to both myself and Millicent, so welcoming. I’m so grateful-you’ve made coming up to town so much easier for us both.”

“But of course, dear.” Minnie’s eyes twinkled.

“Yes, well, you see…” Jacqueline drew in another breath and plunged on. “I’ve just realized that there seems to be some confusion over the…ah, connection between myself and Gerrard.” She looked from Timms to Minnie; no comprehension yet showed in their eyes. “Gerrard is helping me break free of my problems at home, helping to rescue me if you will, but his reasons for doing so-for painting my portrait-are, well, professional, and of course he’s motivated to assist a lady as a true gentleman should. That’s all that connects us, yet I fear an…an expectation has arisen that’s based on the notion that there’s some link of a more personal nature between him and me.”

Both Minnie and Timms were frowning, but lightly, as if her pronouncement merely puzzled them. “Do you mean,” Timms asked, “that you aren’t thinking of marrying him?”

Jacqueline stared at her; she couldn’t think of any way to answer but equally bluntly. “No. That is,” she quickly amended, “it’s not a question of my wanting to marry him so much as there’s never been any suggestion of marriage between us. We’ve never discussed it.”

“Ah.” Timms turned to exchange a look denoting some deep understanding with Minnie.

Minnie’s smile returned, brighter than ever. “I wouldn’t let that worry you, dear. They-our men-are chronically backward in coming forward, at least when it comes to discussing matrimony.” Her gaze grew considering. “Indeed, I can’t, off the top of my head, remember one who ever has…”

After a moment, Minnie returned her gaze to Jacqueline’s face, her expression unquenchably cheery. “But don’t let it trouble you, dear. We’ve known Gerrard from the cradle, and he definitely intends to marry you.”

She managed not to show any sign of exasperation-or of the strange panic slowly brewing inside. She kept her gaze fixed on Minnie’s twinkling eyes. “Indeed, ma’am, I do assure you there’s nothing like that between us. Gerrard is merely interested in me in terms of the portrait.”

“Pfft!” Timms caught her eye. “Nonsense.” Her sharp eyes studied Jacqueline’s face, then she gruffly continued, “However, I can see that you believe it, which perhaps isn’t surprising, stubborn nodcock that Gerrard can be-supercilious and arrogant, too, although I suspect he’ll have hidden that side of himself, at least from you. Humph!” She paused to tug a piece of yarn free. “Regardless, I’d strongly advise you to start thinking of how you’ll answer when he asks whether you want a big wedding, or if you’d rather be married by special license. Incidentally”-Timms caught Jacqueline’s eye-“we’ll all be most disappointed if you opt for the special license.”

She couldn’t simply smile weakly and retreat, and leave things as they were. Jacqueline opened her lips-

“Indeed, dear.” Minnie leaned forward and patted her hand. “I do understand that perhaps, from your point of view, we’ve jumped the gun a trifle, and I can quite see that coming from the country, you wouldn’t have immediately realized, and it’s very sweet of you to think to explain now, but I do assure you that in reading Gerrard’s intentions toward you we haven’t made any mistake.”

Jacqueline stared into Minnie’s steady blue eyes. “He isn’t thinking of marrying me.”

“Oh, yes he is,” Timms averred. “I’ve known him since he was a squalling infant, and he’s definitely set his sights on you.” She met Jacqueline’s eyes, and grinned. “Mind you, given he’s done such an excellent job of hiding his intentions from you, I wouldn’t want to be in his boots when he finally asks for your hand.”

Minnie chuckled. “Indeed, not.”

Jacqueline looked from one to the other; both were clearly enjoying imagining Gerrard’s difficulties when he proposed. But he wasn’t going to…

It was hopeless. She sighed and sat back, then rose and excused herself. They let her go with fond smiles, and reassurances that all would be well-she would see.

She returned to her room; she spent the hour before dinner bathing-and thinking.

It was impossible not to wonder, just for a moment, if they could be right and she wrong. Minnie, Timms and Patience-and the rest of them-indisputably knew Gerrard, knew gentlemen of his ilk, much better than she; they all