Page 17

Chapter Sixteen

M r. Rowles had had a strange look on his face when Geny brought up Mr. Thompson’s contribution, and she could not help but have a seed of doubt that he’d had something to do with its disappearance. It was there and then gone again in a flash. Surely it meant guilt on his part? His back was to her as he studied the window frames.

No, no. Even if he did not give her any reason for why he thought the funds were missing, she had to trust him. The goodness he had displayed in his treatment of Gabriel and Timothy—and of her—could not be conjured up at will. Someone who offered to train orphans with no incentive or prodding was not someone who would willingly steal from them at the same time. And he had shown nothing but tenderness and respect toward her. And desire , she thought with a flush.

Mr. Rowles had had rods installed in the windows as promised. She shook out the curtains she had made, and he turned and took them from her—thankfully not glancing at her face at that moment.

“These are very pretty. Did you make them all?” He looked at her now from where he stood on one of the chairs, with one of her curtains in his hands.

She mustered a smile, pleased by his compliment but still troubled by the missing donation and flustered by the way he continually overset her tranquility.

“Yes, I did. I have enough free time on my hands that I am always pleased to have a project like this to keep me occupied.”

He removed the rod from where it hung and began feeding it through one end of the curtain before inserting the rod into the bracket on the far side and attaching it to the one closest to him. He hopped down and went over to take the second curtain, pulling a chair up to that window next.

“I saw you at the opera on Saturday.” Geny had decided she would bring it up. Of course he must have assumed she would, for it had been evident that they both recognized each other.

She detected a flush of color on his neck as he worked to insert the curtains on the rod, taking a moment before answering.

“I suppose you could not have helped but to notice me, for I was staring at you quite unashamedly.”

He looked at her when he said this, but only briefly, and she caught his wry, embarrassed smile. This made her certain he could not be embezzling money from the asylum. No one could be so entirely two people at once—venal and pure, cocksure and bashful.

“Was it your first time at the opera?” she asked him. Somehow, she already knew the answer was no.

Once again, he paused before answering her, focusing his attention on inserting the second rod into the bracket. “I do enjoy the opera, but I have not been lately.”

It was cautious in the way of replies but nothing that she could object to. He retrieved the third curtain from her, the last one to hang. “And you, my lady? Did you enjoy it?”

She clasped her hands as she watched him hang the last curtain, admiring his athletic form in spite of herself. “I enjoyed the music, but perhaps not quite so much the company.”

He glanced at her again before returning his gaze back to his task. “There was a gentleman in your box.”

How astute you are. But she detected a note of jealousy in his voice and was mollified. He was not indifferent to her.

“He is heir to the Duke of Rigsby. Lord Amherst, who has recently returned to London after overseeing a family plantation in Jamaica. My father wished for us to meet.”

He hopped down from the chair and walked over to where she stood. To have him face her directly in such a way caused her breath to evaporate. Every time they were near each other, the air seemed charged.

“I should not ask this. I have no right to do so…” Mr. Rowles’s voice was deep as he looked down at her, unsmiling. “But is your father’s desire for you to be better acquainted with the marquess what you wish for too, or not?”

His look held a challenge. She knew they had crossed over some invisible line, because in the past he would have excused himself for being too forward. Now he clearly had some proprietary thoughts toward her—in the same way she did toward him.

She lifted her chin. “I do not. My heart is otherwise engaged.” She met his stare in a way he could not mistake if he chose to understand. She saw from the flash in his eyes that he did.

“Geny…”

Her name hung in the air between them. He lifted his hand to her face but dropped it before she felt the touch of his fingers on her cheek. The air sizzled and snapped between them. She waited for him to make the first move, her sense of longing only growing. She had already been shockingly forthright.

“I will not pretend to misunderstand your meaning,” he said from his close distance. “I am gratified?— ”

She looked up at him, her brows drawn sharply together revealing the flash of anger that sparked from that word. She did not want his gratitude.

He rectified his words. “No, I will not say what I was going to, for it would be an insult to you.”

Geny waited, trying to read the expression in his eyes, to understand what he was attempting to say. The silence grew as he exhaled slowly. And then, almost as an admission?—

“I return your feelings. Fully. I believe mine more than likely surpass yours.”

She inhaled a dizzying sense of joy, but before she could realize her good fortune he continued.

“But I cannot give full rein to my feelings. I was a coxcomb to have kissed you as I did, for I cannot pursue you as I wish to—and as you deserve after my having taken such liberties. We are not of the same station, and therefore we cannot possibly suit.”

Geny blinked, disappointment carving her heart in two. “John, should I not be the judge of that? As your social superior, although I do not make claims to superiority in any other way, is it not for me to say what I wish for?”

His gaze held hers for a long moment, and she knew he was tempted. She could see it in his expression and hoped he would capitulate. Then he shook his head slowly.

“Your father would never approve.”

“My father has no sway over me in decisions such as these. I wish to be a dutiful daughter, but I cannot be pressed into a marriage that is unpalatable to me, and at the moment that is any marriage where my heart is not engaged.”

John had not moved away, for all he professed to be incapable of offering for her. If anything, he had seemed to gravitate toward her as though he could not resist the pull between them any more than she could.

“I understand by your words that you mean as long as your heart is engaged toward mine, you will not accept any other offer.” He bit his lip and looked down. “This is the hardest thing I have ever had to do, but I think you should open up your heart to other offers. I must act in your best interest and not seek that of my own.”

“I am the judge of my best interest,” she snapped. How could he be so stubborn?

“Forgive me for implying anything to the contrary,” he said softly.

He held out his hand in invitation to place hers in it. After a reluctant moment, she did. Neither of them wore gloves, and the feel of his hand around hers reminded her of his fingers touching her cheek, her neck, of the intimacy of their kiss. Her breath stuttered.

“If after six months, having grown to know more about me, you still feel the same way,” he said, “I will gratefully and fervently lay my heart at your feet.” He lifted her hand to his lips and placed a kiss there, his warm lips on her fingers before releasing it from his clasp. He stepped back, and she took in a deep breath, as though coming up for air.

“If you will excuse me, my lady, I have something I must attend to.” He had reverted to her formal title. He looked at her and she saw the note of chagrin in his expression that matched her own disappointment, now that there was again distance between them. “If I am to be perfectly honest, I do not trust myself around you, and I want to give you those six months. You deserve them.”

“Very well,” she murmured, fervently hoping he did not hear the reluctance in her voice. She had some remaining dignity after all.

He bowed and took his leave.

Geny went to the opposite side of the room and sat on the bench by the wall, leaning back. Her limbs were trembling and her heart raw and hopeful all at once. She had laid her soul bare before John. She could not help but do so, for there was too much at stake. Her future happiness was at stake. He was rejecting her, but admitted he did not trust himself around her.

She attempted to make sense of his reasoning using cold logic and not the nuanced desires of her heart. It seemed as though he was giving her hope that they would have a future together if only she allowed him time. He wished to give her a way out should she change her mind. Well, Mr. John Rowles would not find her so fickle.

At last, Geny let her eyes focus on the room brightened by the curtains, allowing a smile to touch her lips. It would be useful to have them on the cold winter nights, and it was a great improvement over the bare walls of before.

Geny went to visit baby Ben, who had completely recovered from his cold and was shoving everything he could into his mouth. He even graced her with a smile when she came near. She picked him up, bounced him in her arms a bit, and kissed him on the forehead as she talked to Nurse. Then she reluctantly handed him over and headed toward Gabriel’s room on the third floor where he was still recovering from his injury. She knocked on the door and entered, and Gabriel looked up when she walked in. His face was drawn, scarcely brightening at the sight of his visitor.

She pulled the only chair in the room over to the bed and sat at the side of it, sending him a bracing smile. “Have you been keeping yourself busy, Gabriel? You look bored.”

“I am a little bored, I suppose. But it is all right. I will not be any trouble.” There was a despondent tone to his voice.

“Is your arm still paining you a great deal?” She looked under the covers at the bandaged arm and noted the surgeon’s handiwork with satisfaction. The skin near the bandage did not appear red.

“Not so much, especially when I don’t move it.”

“That is good.” She studied him for a moment. “Why should you worry about being trouble? You have never been in trouble.”

Gabriel did not answer right away but furrowed his brow. “I am worried that the person who is sponsoring me will not wish to do so anymore when he finds out I have been injured. Perhaps he will think I was causing trouble near the wall. Or that I am of no use to the orphanage, or to him anymore.”

Geny stared at Gabriel with surprise, never having once thought about how he might feel about being one of the sponsored orphans—or about the fears that would accompany such a thing.

“Well, let me reassure you then. I have heard nothing of your sponsorship being withdrawn, and I believe I would be one of the first to know.” She patted the blanket near him. “I do not think sponsorship occurs because of the worth that you might bring to the orphanage. It is usually because the person who is sponsoring you feels they have some debt to pay and wishes to see that you are properly taken care of.”

“A debt to pay, as in…I am perhaps the bastard son of a man of consequence?” He brought his direct gaze to bear upon her.

She would not hide the answer from him, and replied gently. “Very often that is the case. I cannot say for sure because I do not have access to the records of your past history, but it would be my guess.”

She touched him on his uninjured arm. “And that means your being injured doesn’t change anything. So I would remove that worry. I am very certain Mr. Rowles will wish you to rejoin his lessons with Timothy soon. He has praised your cleverness.”

This seemed to boost his mood, and he smiled more brightly.

“In the meantime, I will see about getting you something to read, even if I have to search through my own library to do so. It can’t be good for you to be sitting here doing nothing, hour after hour, while waiting for your convalescence. ”

“Thank you, my lady.” Gabriel looked even more relieved, and it was the first genuine smile she had seen from him that day. She promised to visit him in two days’ time but would try to get books sent to him before then.

When she went to the office to review the list of clothing needs, Mr. Dowling appeared in her doorway.

She glanced up from her desk. “Good afternoon, Mr. Dowling.”

She did not invite him to enter, hoping he had nothing important to say to her. She had much on her mind, not the least of which was John’s declaration of his feelings for her.

I believe mine more than likely surpass yours.

“I was wondering if you needed my assistance for anything, my lady. I fear I have not made myself available to you enough lately.” He offered an ingratiating smile.

Geny blinked three times attempting to discern what he might mean by such an offer. “I do not believe so, but I thank you.”

Instead of leaving, Mr. Dowling advanced into the room until he was standing in front of her desk. Fortunately, this served as a barrier, for she was beginning to feel as though she needed one. He leaned in.

“Without wishing in any way to go beyond my station, my lady, I hope you will know how much I long to be of assistance to you, even beyond my duties in the orphanage. How ardently I wish to serve you. In fact?—”

Geny held up a hand. “Let me stop you right there, for you have indeed gone beyond your station, Mr. Dowling. I think it best to end this conversation here.” She stood to make her point, her hands on the desk in front of her until he bowed and took a step back.

“Of course, my lady. It was not my wish to disoblige you.”

Geny did not deign to answer but waited until he left the room. Then, she sat back down and pulled the list toward her again, realizing that she was shaking from the encounter. Mr. Dowling was growing bolder.

Her father had once attempted to dissuade her from going to the orphanage with only a maid for chaperone because he did not like for her to be importuned by men of lesser status. She had always shrugged it off, unable to imagine how anyone might do such a thing to her, an earl’s daughter. Now she had a taste of what it was like to suffer unwanted advances from a man who was almost repugnant to her. At the same time, she was aware of how disappointed her father would be to learn that she had happily made such allowances for John—a man who could only be repugnant to him. She brought her gaze back to the list and attempted to focus so she could pass it on to Mrs. Harris, whose friends had clothing to donate.

When she arrived at home that afternoon, Matthew was sitting in the drawing room playing a game of marbles on his own. He looked up when she came in but did not jump to his feet in the same eager way he usually did.

“Were you not to go to riding in Hyde Park with Father today?” she asked. His posture reminded her of Gabriel. It was the despondent mood and similar age.

Matthew shrugged. “He said he would not be able to take me today. He had something to attend to.”

Geny sighed and went to sit on the sofa beside him. “It must have been a great disappointment for you not to go.”

Matthew shrugged but did not return an answer. She recognized in his gesture some of the rejection she often felt from her father, but her own disappointment had been softened by a mother’s devotion and love. Matthew did not remember their mother very well.

“Let us take out the backgammon set. Would you like to have a game?”

“I suppose.” Matthew’s voice could hardly show less enthusiasm .

“I’ll ring for tea first so that we may eat, and then we will play.”

Geny tugged at the bell pull, and by the time they had finished eating what had been sent up for the tea platter and pulled out the backgammon game, her brother’s good nature had returned. They laughed as they argued over the better strategy in play, and she loudly regretted having lost when she had to concede defeat.

“So you will agree that my strategy of making a strong opening is superior.”

She threw up her hands. “Why, I must, my lord. After all, you won.”

The door opened, interrupting their laughter, and their father walked in. The atmosphere sobered in his presence, although Geny doubted he would have noticed.

“You are both home, are you? Matthew, I received word from your headmaster that there are still cases of contagion, so you will not go back yet this week. He will send me a report in a few days to see when you might return to school.”

“Yes, Father.” Her brother did not attempt further conversation with their father, nor did the earl apologize for having left him at home.

“Eugenia, it is good you are here. I want you to send an invitation to Lord Amherst’s residence, for it must be written in a feminine hand. You will invite him to a small dinner party on Friday. You will need to invite another young lady of your choosing to even the numbers—but not Miss Buxton,” he clarified. “Invite Mr. Milton, as well. He is a good friend of the marquess. I will give you a list of the other guests you must include.”

When Geny was slow to reply, he looked at her curiously. “Yes, Father. I will do that tonight.”

“Very good.” Her father walked back to the door. “I will be in my study. ”

There was silence as the door closed behind him, and as much as Geny wished to continue in the cheerful atmosphere, she could not easily retrieve their former playfulness.

In one day, she had had the only gentleman who mattered express his feelings for her but refuse to act on them because of the difference of their stations. A second one who stepped out of his proper place to express his “ardor” until Geny cut it short. And now, her father was forcing the interest of a third suitor that she would certainly turn away if he attempted to propose. But it would mean a strained relationship with her father beyond what they had experienced to date. It was not an auspicious day.