Right now, she needed some air and a bit of peace, so she ventured into the garden, which was downright cold. The plants were slumbering and the grass was covered in frost.
For a while, Lord Fortescue had been the one who hadn’t pressed her constantly. Until things changed and he started pressing for himself. And now, he refused to have anything to do with her.
With a sigh, she sat down on the bench. The cold of it seeped through her dress, but she didn’t care. The coldness soothed her temper too.
It was inexcusable losing her temper like that. It just felt as if everything was overwhelming her all at once. Things were happening that she didn’t want. Well, Fortescue walking away from her was the thing she didn’t want, and Eliza telling her to simply let him go.
The truth was that she’d taken him for granted. No, that wasn’t accurate. She’d placed him in a safe place, where she got to enjoy the parts of him she liked, but stayed clear of the dangerous parts—the parts that would either break her heart or lead her into marriage, probably in very short order.
If she let him, he would kiss her, and he had no desire to go slow. A mere kiss and her entire future could be set, and there would be no time to ensure his feelings were true, and not just an echo of the gratitude he felt.
None of these things would be resolved by him never seeing her again.
With a sigh, she considered what she wanted. Did she want to never speak to him again? No, of course not. Did she want to marry him?
The silence was stark in her mind for a moment. Did she want to marry him?
She didn’t want to marry anyone else. When it came down to it and she had to choose between the prince and Fortescue, the honest truth was that she’d rather marry Fortescue. But she needed to be sure his feelings were real.
It could perhaps be said she was a little afraid of getting married, because it was such a large change and one she would have little control in if it turned out to be an unhappy match. But Fortescue was basically throwing an ultimatum. He wouldn’t be put in a safe place for her to take her time making up her mind.
According to Eliza, he felt her interest in the prince had been rejection, and in simplistic terms, she could see how he would perceive it that way. She had to communicate that it was not, but she didn’t really know how.
Twisting her fingers together, she considered what to do. A letter. She would write him a letter. Granted, she wasn’t terribly eloquent with letters, and Fortescue didn’t seem to be much of a writer either. And what was she supposed to say: that she liked him more than she let on, but she was worried he didn’t truly know his own heart and that his interest in her was merely a reflection of the dependence and vulnerability he’d felt when he’d been injured? So if he could please clear that point, it would be much appreciated. Could he please clear up the confusion he probably didn’t recognize was there in the first place?
Would he react so decisively if he didn’t have strong, true feelings? Yes, wounded pride made men do stupid things. Because really, if she wanted examples of men doing stupid things, she could easily refer to both of her brothers. Men were far from infallible.
So how did she tell Fortescue he needed to prove his feelings were true?
Somehow, she needed to get these requirements into a letter. She would go through a whole pile of paper trying to word this correctly.
Chapter 35
THE FIRE HAD DIFFICULTY fighting the cold that pressed in from the windows. Finn reckoned it may actually snow if the cold weather continued. Mr. Walters was outside stacking firewood in the covered area of the mews stable. A delivery must have come. Finn watched the man at his work for a while. All of London was blanketed by this cold, probably the whole country.
Soon, preparations would start for Christmas. Honestly, it wasn’t something he looked forward to this year as he had no one to celebrate it with. It was a time when everyone retreated to their families—even the most committed knaves and inebriates returned to their families for Christmas.
In a way, he wished he could simply skip it altogether, but he knew it meant a great deal to the staff. So would sending them all to their families, which may be an even better option. Most of them would have families somewhere. Even Mr. Fuller had a sister somewhere near Scarborough. So instead of the two days off they normally had, he would send them off for a whole week. It would give them enough time to travel if they should wish to. His club was perfectly capable of taking care of him, and on Christmas day, he could survive perfectly well with wine, cheese and some cold cuts for a day or two. He certainly didn’t need them to prepare a full Christmas dinner for just him to eat alone in his dining room.
Having determined this course of action, he felt better about the upcoming Christmas season. The discomforts could simply be avoided and everyone would benefit.
“The mail has arrived,” Mrs. Smythe said as she walked into his study. “I’ll leave it right here for you. And I’ll have some scones brought up. They’ve just come out of the oven.”
The style of managing him between Mrs. Smythe and Mr. Fuller couldn’t be different. Mrs. Smythe had a habit of sharing her enthusiasm for baked treats. Mr. Fuller wouldn’t dream of it. When it came to the cellar, Mrs. Smythe was utterly and completely
