Liberty for Paul (4 page)

Liberty sprang off her settee. “Please, Papa, don’t make me marry him!” she pleaded, pointing at Mr. Grimes.

Papa chuckled. “My dear, do you think I would subject him to that life of torment?”

Deflated, Liberty sat down. Save
him
from a life torment? He was her father; he should be taking her side and saying he was keeping
her
from that life of torment he spoke of. “So you’re not going to force me to marry him, then?” she asked, trying to keep excitement from creeping into her voice.

“No,” Papa said flatly. “Now you two quit looking so excited at the prospect of not being shackled to each other. Any idiot can see that you two cannot stand each other. One of you clearly has a better reason to despise the other.” Papa shot an apologetic glance at Mr. Grimes. “Nonetheless, I have no desire to find out what would happen if you two were forced to share a house.”

Liberty could have sworn her father shuddered after his last sentence, but she was too offended by his apologetic glance at Mr. Grimes to care.

“What will happen now?” Mama asked quietly.

“It’s simple: nothing” Papa said easily. “Nobody but us, save the butler, knows about what happened, we’ll just keep it to ourselves. In addition, Mr. Grimes and I have decided to put an end to our professional acquaintance.”

Liberty saw Mama nod her understanding and send a sad and somewhat worried glance over to Mr. Grimes. A week or two before Papa and Mr. Grimes met seven months earlier Papa had told the family they’d be going back home in about six months. But then Brooke married and soon after announced she was increasing. Not wanting to miss the birth of their first grandchild, her parents had decided to stay in England until the baby was born. Subsequently, much to Liberty’s dismay, Papa’s relationship with Mr. Grimes had continued.

During the past seven months, Liberty tried to ferret out Mr. Grimes’ secrets, but never learned what his problems were that compelled him to seek Papa’s advice. Oh well, that was a small price to pay not to have to see him again. It looked like she got what she wanted after all.

“Well, now that that’s been settled, I should be off to bed,” Liberty chirped, getting off the settee.

“Not so fast,” Papa snapped. “You may think this has all resolved itself, but there is still the matter of your punishment to discuss.”

Liberty gently sat back down on the settee.

“You didn’t think that was the end of it, did you, my dear girl?” Papa asked way too sweetly.

“No, of course not,” Liberty said quietly.

In the next five minutes Liberty sat quietly with her hands in her lap as she watched Mr. Grimes and Papa mumble words of goodbye. Then Mr. Grimes shook Papa’s hand and gave Mama a hug before walking out the door without a backwards glance in her direction. Not that she blamed him for his easy dismissal of her, she’d deserved it. Her treatment of him, today and in the past, had not exactly been endearing. And yet, his easy dismissal of her struck her differently than she’d thought it would.

The five minutes that followed that were not nearly as pleasant. It took only five minutes for her entire world to change.

First, she heard her father, who was a minister, mind you, use a phrase that no gentleman should say in the presence of a lady. “What in the bloody hell are you about, Liberty?” he demanded as soon as Mr. Grimes was out of his study.

So shocked he’d said “bloody hell”, she squeaked and looked at Papa as if she expected him to be struck by lightning.

“Close your gaping mouth and answer me, girl,” he barked sharply, seeming as oblivious to the impossibility of his statement as Liberty was.

“
You just said ‘bloody’
and
‘hell’,” Liberty said softly in reply.

“Yes, I did. And I’ll say it again, if you don’t answer me,” he snapped.

Liberty sent a pleading glance to Mama. But Mama just shook her head, offering her no help.

The following three minutes Liberty did her best to explain what happened, taking care to pick her words carefully so not to make it worse than it already was.

Then came the final minute. The one that actually changed her life. For the first forty-five seconds, Papa yelled all sorts of vile things, most of which made his earlier use of bloody hell seem like children’s talk. She’d never even heard of half the words he used this time. Then, he turned to Mama who was standing rigid and pale by the door. “I’m sorry, Carolina, please forgive me for talking that way in front of you,” he said sheepishly. His eyes snapped back to Liberty. “As for you,” he said with a sneer of disgust. “I thought I’d raised you better than this. I’ve been bewildered by some of the things you’ve done. I’ve been embarrassed by some of the things you’ve done. But until today, I couldn’t say I’d ever been disappointed. See to it that you never act in such a disappointing way again, now go!”

Each of his words was like a blow to her heart. She absolutely hated the idea of disappointing someone she’d always admired, especially when she'd tried so hard to follow the rules to perfection.

Fighting tears, she stood up. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly and fled the room, vowing then and there she’d never be termed a disappointment again.

Chapter 5

Paul got into his carriage and directed his coachman to the nearest boarding house. It might be unfashionable to stay in one, but as usual, fashion was the furthest thing from his mind.

Tonight had been a disaster to say the least. He had no idea what she’d been up to, and he’d long ago decided it didn’t matter. At least now he wouldn’t have to encounter her ever again, and for that, he was truly thankful.

Unfortunately, that also meant he’d lost his friendship with John and Carolina. Over the past seven months he’d come to value their friendship a great deal. He’d known since the day they’d met that one day their friendship would end eventually. Too bad it had to be in such a dramatic way, he thought wryly, shaking his head.

That night Paul slept at a strange place and in a strange bed; and the next day he rode to his empty house and slept in his equally empty bed.

The next few weeks ran into each other with the passing of Christmas and New Years. Following tradition, he spent the holidays alone. Sam had little need for him since he’d inherited his title seven years ago.

In the middle of January, Paul decided it might be time to think of marriage. He’d thought about it two years ago when things were going well. Then when his life crumbled, he’d been too focused on that to think about women. Not that it would have mattered anyway. As things stood, none of the unmarried girls within fifty miles of him were allowed to be courted by him. That only left widows, which he didn’t even speak to for fear of what might circulate if he were seen speaking to one.

Now his only choice was London.

London had never held much appeal to him before, but today it did. Although, he wasn’t sure if he felt London was beckoning him to search for a bride or if it had to do with the odd missive he’d received from John Banks the day before.

Paul picked up the evasive note again. He’d read it about a dozen times already the night before and hadn’t made any sense of it. Paul looked down and scanned it again.

Paul,

I need to speak to you post haste. Please meet me at my London residence day after tomorrow. This is a matter of great importance.

John

Paul frowned. What did John want with him? It had been well over a month since his last debacle with Liberty. Surely, he hadn’t changed his mind after all this time, had he? No matter. John had helped him when he needed it and he’d be damned if he didn’t help John when he needed it.

***

Paul arrived at the Banks’ house in London around midday.

He’d just opened the door to his carriage and was about to hop down when the front door to the townhouse John was staying burst open.

Paul brought his head up and blinked when he saw it was not Turner at the door, but John. “Hello, John,” Paul said cheerfully.

“Paul,” John said stiffly, making a hand gesture that staid Paul. “Let’s go for a ride,” he suggested flatly.

Paul had never seen John so rigid before. And considering all the uncomfortable conversations the two of them had had in the past, something must be very wrong indeed for John to have such a stiff demeanor.

“What can I help you with?” Paul asked without ceremony after John shut the carriage door.

“Marry Liberty,” John said with the same frankness as Paul.

Paul coughed. “Excuse me?” If John had said, “Marry my daughter,” Paul could have pretended he meant Madison, and might have seriously considered the request. But he could have sworn John said, “Marry Liberty,” and that was a request he hoped he’d misheard.

“That rapscallion of a butler we used to have went to the press with details of last month’s—” he broke off, trying to think of a good word. But when he’d decided no word fit, he shoved a well-worn newspaper into Paul’s hands.

Paul flipped open the paper and his eyes flew to the headline:
A Botched Seduction, Butler Tells All.
Quickly he read the article.

It has come to my attention that last month a young lady by the initials LB set out to seduce a country vicar. Her anonymous butler claims she invited him to her family’s London residence and while he was in the bath, rinsing off the traveling dust one would assume, the young lady snuck into his room and began to undress. The young lady’s plans for seduction were brought to a screeching halt when her parents arrived home early from visiting a certain noble relation.

When the young lady’s parents opened the door to the bedchamber the two were occupying, they found a naked vicar and a half dressed young lady. When asked why this had not come to the public’s attention until now, my source informed me the family pretended it never happened and paid money to keep it hushed up.

Now, I ask you, dear reader, is this the kind of young lady we want patronizing our events, mingling with our daughters, and marrying our sons? I think not.

Paul felt the paper slip out of his hand and flutter down to the floor. He’d heard of Lady Algen’s weekly gossip column, appropriately named
Tattle and Prattle
, but he’d never read it before. His life was full of enough gossip without having to read about it.

“Paul, I wouldn’t ask it of you if there was any other way,” John said solemnly. “I know you don’t like her, but her reputation is beyond repair.”

Paul looked at him skeptically; resisting the urge to ask how it was his problem her reputation was in shreds. “Are you sure people have figured out it was Liberty?” he asked hopefully.

“They know,” John said flatly. His normally laughing clear blue eyes looked old and worried. “Every day this week we’ve had more callers than usual.”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“Yes, it does,” John snapped. “Sorry,” he said in a softer tone. “They have to know. Nobody has brought it up directly, but the only people who have come by are either the old gossip hungry harpies or the biggest rakes in a hundred mile radius.”

“They know,” Paul agreed grimly.

John nodded.

“What about going back to New York early,” Paul suggested, ignoring the little voice in the back of his head that was chastising him for denying John’s request.

“I thought of that already,” John conceded. “The problem is, with the weather being what it is, there are no passenger ships.”

That was a valid excuse, Paul thought with a sigh. The Thames was still frozen over; the ocean was bound to be full of ice, too. Biting his tongue so he wouldn’t suggest the family try walk across the ocean on the stretches of ice, he stared at the floor in silence.

“You do need a wife,” John said helpfully. “You never know, it might help your situation.”

Paul’s head snapped up. He knew he needed a wife and he’d even come to the conclusion that a wife might be beneficial in battling the gossip; but with Liberty as his wife, the gossip was likely to spread and multiply. She didn’t seem the sort to stand by her husband when things got hard, and no doubt the beginning of their marriage things would definitely be termed hard.

“I’m sorry, John, but I don’t think Liberty is the solution to my problems,” Paul said truthfully.

John nodded and scrubbed his fingers up and down his face before threading them through his hair. “All right, then,” John said, sighing loudly.

Paul felt for John and Carolina, he truly did, but not enough that he’d marry their hellion of a daughter to help them out. A man had to draw a line somewhere.

“How’s your den of iniquity?” John asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Fine,” Paul ground out.

John cocked his head and twisted his lips in the way Paul had seen him do many times when he was in deep contemplation. “You know, my boy, I do believe you are in need of a wife,” John said thoughtfully.

“Yes, I’ve been thinking the same,” Paul agreed. What was John up to?

“Tell me, do you have someone in mind?”

Paul looked at him stoically. “No.”

“I see,” John said, nodding slowly. “Hmm, well, if I remember correctly your prospects at home are not so grand. I suppose that would mean you’ll be coming to London for the Season to find a bride,” he mused aloud.

“That’s the most likely possibility,” Paul allowed, trying to keep his curiosity from his tone or face.

“You do know the Season is still a few months off, don’t you? Do you suppose there is enough time between now and the start of the Season for quiet country rumors to spread all the way here?”

Paul’s eyes narrowed. The Mr. John Banks he’d met more than eight months ago would never even allude to gossip, let alone spread it. “Are you threatening me, sir?” he asked with keen interest.

“No,” John said quickly. “I was just merely pointing out how quickly rumors spread and how damaging they can be, that’s all.”

Paul ground his teeth. “I’ll think about it,” he said between clenched teeth.

“You will?” John asked jovially, a smile transforming his rigid face. “How can I help you make up your mind?”

“You can’t,” Paul returned flatly. Why had he just agreed to think about marrying Liberty? Did he want to spend his life in misery?

“Oh, there must be something I can say to help.”

“There’s not.”

John shook his head. “Hmm, what if I increase her dowry? I gave Townson five thousand pounds. What if I give you six?”

“Sir, do you remember that you once told me you only had twelve thousand pounds with which to dower all three girls? If you’ve already given Townson five, and you’re planning to give me—or whoever is crazy enough to chain themselves to Liberty for life—six, then that leaves only one thousand for Madison?”

“I know that,” John snapped. “There's nothing wrong with my mathematics, young man. But as you pointed out, there is an extra thousand pounds. How about I bump Liberty’s dowry up to seven? That’s the highest I can go though.”

Paul rolled his eyes. “Then that leaves nothing for Madison.”

“As I said already, there is nothing wrong with my math skills,” John said sharply. “The fact is, Madison has no desire to marry, and if she changes her mind, her looks will be enough to snag the richest in the land. A lack of dowry won’t be a problem where she is concerned.”

“Are you saying then you don’t believe Liberty is as attractive as Madison?” Paul asked coolly, interested in John’s answer. It had to be hard for Liberty to grow up in the shadows of her older, more attractive sisters.

“As their father, I think they’re both equally attractive. Just in different ways, of course,” John said smoothly. “But it matters not what I think when it comes down to it. It’s the opinion of the gentlemen who wish to court them that matters.”

“So why the extra two thousand pounds?”

John shrugged, then slumped back in his seat. “Think of it as compensation for anything of yours she might destroy.”

“Anything, but my pride,” Paul muttered, folding his arms. “It’s not important anyway; I have no desperate need of funds.”

“All right,” John conceded. “Think about this: if you marry Liberty, you will not have to spend a Season in London going to exhausting balls, boring soirees, ear piercing musicales or dull garden parties. Not to mention, you won’t spend a shilling on flowers, candies and other token gifts gentlemen bring when they call on young ladies.”

“As I said earlier, money is not a concern for me. Anyway, I might enjoy an outing or two,” Paul pointed out with a shrug.

“What about all that other sentimental rubbish? Do you enjoy writing ridiculous poetry and spouting it in front of a room full of people in hopes of gaining the girl’s affections?”

Paul blinked. Spout poetry? No, thank you. “Not all men do that. My brother didn’t.”

“Your brother had a title,” John reminded him.

“Thank you for reminding me,” Paul said with a grimace.

“Come now, Paul, why chase a woman when there is one who is already perfectly willing?” John asked encouragingly.

“Willing?” Paul echoed. To his memory, Liberty was willing to yell at him. Or willing to unman him. And perhaps even willing to make him look a fool. Not, willing to marry him.

“Yes, willing,” John assured him. “I know your past few encounters with her weren’t very positive, but trust me when I tell you, Liberty does have a heart of gold somewhere in there.”

A heart of gold? He didn’t even think she had one made of flesh buried in her chest. “John, I’m sorry. If there were any other way I could help you I would, but as you said yourself, who knows what might ensue if we have to share a house.”

John sighed and leaned against the squabs, a look of defeat on his face. “Do you happen to have the time, Paul?”

Paul’s fingers ran over his gold pocket watch that was sitting in his coat pocket. “No, I’m sorry I don’t.”

“I thought you always had a pocket watch with you?” John said skeptically, favoring him with a questing glance.