Мэри Бэлоу - Someone to Romance

“I believe,” Anna said, “we will all wait upon the Rochfords on Monday. Avery normally avoids morning or afternoon calls rather as he would the plague, but I can dare predict he will make an exception on this occasion.”

“And when we go, we will all express the fond hope that his future lordship will be at the masquerade with his wife,” Wren said. “Before his cousin is declared officially dead, that is, and his grief keeps him from all grand entertainments.”

Grandmama made a sound of contempt that was not quite a word, but she seemed to sum up everyone’s feelings. They subsided for a few moments into a satisfied silence.

Oh, Gabriel had indeed married into a whole family yesterday!

Gabriel! For a moment Jessica’s thoughts wandered. He had gone to find his lawyer, even though it was a Saturday and the man might not be amused to have his day off disturbed. Then they were going to dine together and compare notes and . . .

Well.

Gabriel had been looking forward to getting back to his hotel and to Jessica returning from her meeting with the women of her family. He had looked forward to dining privately with her and to retiring early to bed with her. Last night had been one of broken sleep. Not that it was just to catch up with missing sleep that he hoped to retire early tonight, of course.

Bedtime did not come as early as he had hoped, however. Neither did they end up dining alone.

Jessica was in the middle of telling him all about the meeting at her aunt’s house while he removed her bonnet and kissed her throat, and she accused him of trying to distract her, when they were both distracted by a knock on the door.

They waited for Horbath to emerge from the bedchamber to open it. They listened to the discreetly hushed murmur of voices.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” Horbath said with a deferential bow, leaving the door slightly ajar while he came to report to Gabriel. “There is a Mr. Simon Norton belowstairs wishing to have a word with you.”

Norton? Here? Not back at Brierley? He must have assumed that his job there was completed now that Manley had come to London. Or perhaps he had come to bring that news.

“Have him shown up,” he said. He smiled ruefully at Jessica. “I am sorry. Will you mind? He is the man I sent to Brierley to find out a few things for me. I will get rid of him as soon as possible.”

“Of course I do not mind,” she said.

But when Norton was admitted, he did not come alone.

He had Mary with him.

Nineteen

So this was Mary Beck.

The woman for whom Gabriel had come back from America, leaving behind him the life he had made for himself there, his home and his business, his friends and his neighbors. For more than six years he had resisted the allure of an earl’s title and all the honor and respect it would bring with it as well as a stately home and estate and a fortune. He had not been interested. He had been happy where he was.

She was tiny, perhaps not even quite five feet tall. She appeared to have a bit of a hump on her back and one twisted arm. She limped heavily. She wore a long, shapeless coat and no hat. Her hair, a drab mixture of faded brown and gray, was scraped back over her head and sat on her neck in a small, tight bun. She had a long, plain face. She was probably in her fifties, though that was only a guess.

And Gabriel had spoken her name with warm affection and bent over her to hug her close. He held her for a long time, his eyes tightly closed, his arms noticeably gentle.

“Gabriel, Gabriel,” she said over and over in a deep, almost manly voice, patting his upper arms. She laughed softly. “Look at you. You are all grown up.”

The man Jessica assumed was Mr. Norton stood just inside the door, which Gabriel’s valet had closed quietly before disappearing back to the bedchamber.

“You came all this way?” Gabriel asked rhetorically, moving back far enough to look into her face, though he kept his arms about her. “Mary? What were you thinking?”

“I heard that Mr. Rochford had come here,” she said. “And I was afraid he would have you thrown in jail, Gabriel. I was afraid they would . . . hang you before I could stop them. So I went to find Mr. Norton and persuaded him to bring me. Don’t chastise him for coming, even though you had not given him orders to leave his post. I threatened him. I told him if he did not bring me, I would come alone on the stagecoach and you would not like it and blame him. And I meant it. I have a letter with me from Ned Higgins.”

“Ned Higgins?” He frowned. “But Mary, never mind that just now. Let me take your coat and make you comfortable and introduce you—”

But Mary was not to be deterred. If she had been able to talk without stopping for breath, she would surely have done so. “Ned is the young groom who brought me that little fawn and stayed outside the cottage while you and I set its broken leg,” she explained. “Not so young any longer either. He has a wife and three children, two of whom like to come and pick flowers from my garden for their mother when I pretend not to be looking. Ned is still squeamish about animals in pain, bless his heart. I wrote the letter for him, Gabriel, because he can only barely read and write. I asked Mr. Norton to be there, though, so that he could watch and make sure that I wrote only what Ned said and that I did not prompt him at all. Ned did read it over when I was finished, and then he signed it. Mr. Norton witnessed it with his signature. Something I did not know before then was that after Ned left the cottage on that day—you were still there with me—he came upon a cluster of men gathered about the dead body of that poor young man. Ned watched while he was taken up by a few of them to be carried home to his father. So. They are not going to hang you, Gabriel, or throw you in prison. I won’t let them.”

She was breathless by the time she finished. And the whole of her focus was upon Gabriel.

“Mary,” he said, “thank you. Thank you for all this. Thank you for coming, though I am vexed that I made it necessary for you to travel all the way to me when I ought to have gone to you. Thank you for the news, for bringing the letter, for caring. But come and be comfortable. Let me introduce you to someone very special. To Jessica. She did me the great honor of marrying me yesterday.”

He turned her toward Jessica and released his hold on her.

And they looked at each other, the two special women in his life.

“Jessica.” Mary’s hands, one terribly twisted, came up beside her face, palm out, and her face lit up with a smile. “But you are lovely .”

And Jessica realized something that made no sense from the point of view of her eyes. Mary Beck was beautiful. It was something to do with her face—her plain face—and her eyes. She had heard it said that the eyes are the window to the soul. But Mary’s eyes . . . No. One could not see her soul through her eyes. One could see it in her eyes and beaming out from them to light and to warm the whole world. Mary was a living soul. Which was a bewilderingly foolish thought. Especially upon an acquaintance of mere moments. It was true, though. Surely it was.

Jessica reached out both hands, and Mary set hers in them. Jessica clasped the twisted one very gently. “How very happy I am to meet you, Mary,” she said, and kissed the older woman on the cheek.

Travel over English roads must not have been comfortable for her. And that was probably a great understatement. She had not even had the luxury of Avery’s carriage to travel in.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” Mr. Norton was saying to Gabriel. “But I judged you would want me to accompany Miss Beck rather than stay put, especially as Mr. and Mrs. Rochford were gone. I’ll turn around and go back up there, with your permission, and see if I can find Mrs. Clark.”