Lady in Blue (34 page)

“Except you,” she murmured.

“A skinny boy still trying to hold on to his illusions,” he said mockingly. “I had the senseless notion I could change everything, make it all go away, if I became what he ought to have been. I promised myself I would. But I’ve accomplished exactly nothing.” He gestured at the gloomy chamber. “The estate is a ruin. There is no heir. All I have done is make money and spend it on my own indulgences.”

“Harmless indulgences,” she reminded him gently. “You earned your fortune and have not gambled it away. There will be a legacy for your children when you marry. You are not your father, Bryn. And any debt you ever owed was paid during the years you cared for him.”

He mustered a faint smile. “It occurs to me that we both spent our childhood in much the same way, me tending a father blind and insane from his disease, you nursing a madwoman who left two children for you to raise alone. But I have failed my obligations, while you—”

“Have also failed,” she said bluntly. “Joseph and Jeremy would be ashamed to know what I have done.”

He put his hands on her shoulders. “Only if they are fools. You are the bravest individual I have ever met, and they would agree.” His grip tightened. “I’d have given you the money, Clare, without obligation, had you told me the truth from the beginning.”

Tears burned her eyes. “I expect you would have, now that I know you. But I didn’t, not then. And even so, I would have been too proud and stubborn to accept.”

“It appears we share any number of vices,” he observed.

She leaned against his chest, grateful when his arms wrapped around her because her knees had buckled. “Yes,” she whispered to his lapel. “But you saved me, while I have given you so very little. And have sworn to give you no more. It isn’t fair, Bryn. You deserve better.” Crying in earnest, she lifted her gaze to his face. “What are we to do?”

He regarded her gravely. “The last thing my father said to me, the last thing that made sense, was
Do what you want.
And so I have, for the most part, although I watched him suffer the consequences of that philosophy. If I was careful about money and women, it was only because I feared to die as he did, impoverished and insane. But now I am beginning to understand that I didn’t learn how to live. Not until, until I met you. We belong together, Clare. Can you not see that?”

Her throat tightened. “I have promised otherwise, in exchange for your life.”

“And you honestly believe God will hold you to that?” He shook his head. “I am not convinced that your vow of future chastity and my recovery are related.”

“Perhaps not,” she admitted. “But don’t you see? It is a matter of personal integrity. You have spent twenty years haunted by promises made on behalf of a father who betrayed you in every way. How can I turn my back on a promise made to God?”

He rested his cheek against hers. “You cannot, princess. You would never be happy with me if you did.” After a moment, he stepped back and took her hand. “I have found what I was looking for. Now let me show you what is beautiful about River’s End.”

He led her outside and up a stone stairway to the narrow walk along the fortress walls.

She caught her breath. The view was spectacular. In the distance, a ridge of mountains lifted to the blue sky. Where they fell off to a valley lush with trees, a river curled like a silver ribbon, sunlight flashing off the water.

“The Black Mountains,” he said. “Between them and the river Honddu, you can just make out the remains of Offa’s Dyke. It runs all the way from the north coast to Chepstow. For a long time the dike marked the border between England and Wales, although the territory was often disputed. The first Earl of Caradoc built on this promontory at William the Conqueror’s behest, to hold off the barbarians, although I suspect the Normans did more harm to England than the Welsh.” He grinned. “I rather lean to the west, because Welshmen are great lovers of music.”

“How beautiful this is, Bryn,” she said in an awed voice. “No wonder you want to preserve it.”

“The village of Talgarth is located across those mountains,” he told her. “I have no doubt my ancestors tended pigs and herded sheep there, until some ambitious young rogue betrayed his heritage and fought on the winning side. If Harold had prevailed against the Conqueror, I would be a peasant instead of an earl.”

She chuckled. “Unimaginable. No shepherd was ever so arrogant.”

“Nor any earl,” he said seriously, “with so little reason.” He put his hands on her cheeks, gazing resolutely into her eyes. “Marry me, Clare.”

She blinked. He was out of his mind to even suggest it. “You cannot mean that. What a crackbrained notion!”

“I have never meant anything more. You promised not to sin with me, but if we are married there
is
no sin. You can keep your meaningless vow to God and we will both be happy. It is the obvious answer. And don’t try to tell me otherwise, because I know you want me almost as much as I want you.”

Stepping back, she squared her shoulders. “And what of your own vow, to marry well with a woman of your own class? Don’t be absurd, Bryn. I am the daughter of a country vicar, ineligible even had I not turned whore. You are not thinking clearly.”

His hands tightened to fists. “On the contrary. I am thinking clearly for the first time in my life. And if I ever again hear you refer to yourself as a whore, I will take you over my knee. You became my mistress for reasons the whole world would applaud, and even your strict God has already forgiven you. Now put an end to this charade and be my wife.”

She took a deep breath. “No, I will not. No.”

Bryn regarded her with a stunned expression. “Why the hell not?”

“At this moment,” Clare said slowly, “you think it a perfect solution. But when we leave here, and you’ve had time to consider, you will know otherwise.”

“I
have
considered. Listen to me, princess. Lots of men marry their mistresses—Charles Fox for one—and nobody that mattered gave a damn. Prinny tried to marry Maria Fitzherbert. The Duke of Clarence had ten little FitzClarences by Mrs. Jordan. These things are forgiven and forgot.”

“Bryn, I don’t know how to live among people who dishonor their marriage vows and breed children who will carry the stigma of being born out of wedlock all their lives. What little taste I’ve had of aristocratic disregard for fidelity only convinces me that I want no part of it. A careless nobleman took his pleasure with Ardis and left her pregnant and alone. I doubt he has ever given her a second thought, and he doesn’t even know he fathered two wonderful boys.”

“What is all that to the point? You and I will be married, Clare. Our children will be legitimate. I shall always be faithful to you.”

She drew herself up. “I believe you mean that. And I also believe you would come to regret allying yourself with a woman of common birth who sold herself for money. You cannot change overnight, Bryn, and would despise yourself for setting aside the promises you made years ago. They would come back to haunt us both. I won’t let you do it.”

“By God, Clare, how can you be so bullheaded? I was wrong before, and now I’m right. If l can change, so can you.”

She regarded him somberly. “I have done a great many things I ought not. Even enjoyed them, to my shame. But I will not take advantage of your impulsive whim. And you are impulsive, you know, with a lamentable tendency to fly off the handle. If it is any comfort, I care enough for you to save you from yourself.”

“Thank you very much,” he said. “As if I am not perfectly capable of directing my own life.”

“Exactly.” She dredged a smile from the pain that nearly overwhelmed her. “We will speak no more of this, Bryn. I’ll not marry you, and if you importune me, I shall leave immediately. Better we part as friends, don’t you think?”

He gave her a shadowed look. “Better we not part at all. But I’ll say no more on the subject. It will take more than words to dig you out of the cave you are hiding in. I know that, because I have been holed up in a place much like it for twenty years.” Tilting her chin with his hand, he directed her attention to the Black Mountains. “All barriers can be crossed, butterfly, and even the deepest well is open to the sky.”

Having no idea what he meant, she took his arm. “I’d as soon go back to London, if you are ready.”

His eyes were clouded. “Tomorrow morning. I’m finished here.”

CLARE BEGAN TO make preparations to leave.

When they arrived in London she moved back to Clouds, surprised that Bryn offered no objections. In spite of his promise, she had rather expected him to try and change her mind. But he seemed to have lost interest in marrying her, or even in keeping her close by.

For that matter, he was strangely indifferent to her plans for the future, although she tried to discuss them on the trip home. For the most part quiet and reflective, he listened politely, nodded, and soon changed the subject. Beyond insisting she remain in the city for a performance of his favorite opera, scheduled a week away, he appeared ready to say goodbye.

Even so, he kept her busy while they awaited
The Magic Flute,
and took her on a last whirlwind tour of London. They went to Vauxhall Gardens and the Tower, Westminster Abbey and Astley’s Royal Amphitheatre, and one afternoon he staunchly endured an excursion to the Royal Academy so she could enjoy the paintings.

Every day he brought her a new book, but no more jewelry, thank the Lord. She had agreed to take everything he’d given her, because she knew it would hurt him if she did not. Again, he hadn’t seemed to care. “Whatever you like,” was all he said.

She was puzzled by this new mood. He was so unlike the Bryn she had come to know, although they both enjoyed the excursions and laughed a great deal. She ought to be relieved that their parting would be amicable, and grateful for the happy memories he was building for her.

Instead, she lay awake at night in the small bedroom where she’d first stayed at Clouds, wrestling with her own demons. Bryn now realized, as she had done immediately, that a marriage between them was impossible. But some mean-spirited part of her wished he had fought the idea a little harder.

Foolish, of course. If he wooed her or tried to seduce her, she would have no choice but to turn him away. It was purely female vanity that longed for some hint that their final parting was as difficult for him as it would be for her.

But how could it be? She loved him.

He did not love her.

He still desired her, though. She saw it in his eyes and recognized the strict discipline he imposed on himself when they were together. But desire was not the same thing as love. She had no right to expect him to share her feelings and took care not to show her own.

Saturday night would be their last together. On Sunday, his carriage would take her to Hastings and it would all be over. A new life awaited her. She tried to look ahead, gathering her courage, bracing herself for the pain.

But on Friday night, when he brought her home from the theater, Bryn announced a change of plans. Alice had given birth to a daughter, and her christening was to be Saturday afternoon. Claude wanted him to stand as godfather, so instead of the opera they would go to Richmond for the ceremony. The child was to be named Emily Clare, so naturally Alice expected Clare to attend.

“You only just found this out?” she protested.

“I have known for several days,” he said in a calm voice. “I feared your over-strict conscience might lead you to fret about going into a church, so I didn’t tell you. Perhaps we’ll make it back to London for the opera, perhaps not. But I could not tell Claude and Alice that we plan to separate just when they are supremely happy.”

“Of course not,” she said after a moment. “I shall be glad to see them one more time. You understand I must still leave for Hastings on Sunday?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you decide. Be ready at ten o’clock tomorrow morning, and wear something blue. It is how I want to remember you.” He brushed his lips across her cheek and moved to the door. “And Clare,” he said over his shoulder, “leave your hair down. Please.”