Page 30 of Love Thy Enemy (The Vaughns #4)
G regory wasn’t certain what had possessed him to ask such an intrusive question, but Mrs. Stuart merely gazed out at the forest, her eyes scouring the foliage and greenery as though they might supply the answer.
“I regret not being mature enough to learn my lesson before I lost everything, but I will never regret marrying Rodney,” she said with a wistful twist of her lips.
“I married him because I loved him, and together, we created six beautiful children, and our marriage made me the woman I am today. So, I cannot regret him.”
Looking at him from the corner of her eye, Mrs. Stuart added, “If I may offer another piece of advice, Mr. Vaughn. It does no good to hate. I spent far too much of my life allowing my anger to poison my life. No matter what my husband cost me, I refuse to allow those feelings to fester any longer.”
Pausing, she wrinkled her nose. “Of course, that may not be clear based on how I have behaved over the past few weeks. I feel as though I ought to apologize again.”
“Peace, Mrs. Stuart,” said Gregory. “I think we can both agree that neither of us is pleased with how that unfolded. Rather than castigating ourselves again and again, we ought to move forward.”
“Perhaps,” she said, slanting him a sly look.
“If you promise to give me a tour of your shop the next time you are in the village. I cannot claim that I paid any attention to it when I visited.” She paused and added with a slight wince, “Twice. I have been there twice, and yet I cannot say that I recall anything about the place. Beyond it being very neat and orderly—which is no great surprise, given what I know of you.”
Gregory’s brows rose at that. “You wish to tour the shop?”
“You spoke of your business with such passion when we were driving to Thornsby. I would like to see it.”
And just like that, they slipped into conversation. It was as though the past few weeks had not occurred, and they were transported back to that stagecoach once more.
Except it wasn’t the same as before. Not precisely.
That had been a conversation between two strangers.
Two people tossed together with no true understanding of their backgrounds and the lives that had led them to that moment.
Now, Gregory knew far more about the lady than he ought, and though much of it was shocking and more than a tad embarrassing, when one looked at the whole of it, he couldn’t help but be impressed by the lady at his side.
The past informed the present, but no one was held captive by it.
One may struggle with the consequences of decisions, but one was still the lord and master over the direction of one’s life.
Unfortunately, far too many chose Rodney’s path, preferring to view themselves as slaves to the past and victims of the present with no hope for the future.
Yet this lady had changed. Even if Mrs. Stuart wished to dismiss it as being the byproduct of her terrible circumstances, the truth was that far too many people chose to wallow in that unending misery she’d rejected.
The journey from the picnic to the house was not far, though Gregory was quite happy for his steps to slow. He didn’t bother lying to himself that it was solely to ensure that Mrs. Stuart was afforded a comfortable pace. The truth was that he enjoyed speaking with the lady.
Mrs. Chatterbox was out in force once more, speaking of everything and anything, leading the conversation on a path that was more twisty and winding than the one at their feet.
They spoke of business ventures and the children, and Gregory was surprised at how easily she prodded him into speaking, though he was quite content to hear her expound on a good many subjects.
The forest opened before them, petering out into the lawn that surrounded Eden Place.
The children were long gone, and through one of the open windows, the sound of the piano rang out in the afternoon air, proving that Faith was enjoying the gift.
In the distance, clouds gathered, promising that today’s gloriousness was soon to be replaced by more rain.
But for now, the world was still perfect.
Despite the ground being far more even than their forest path, Mrs. Stuart did not release his arm, and Gregory was all too happy to have her hold fast to it as long as she wished.
Spying the house just ahead, he knew he was not ready for their time to end.
After so many years of terrifying the ladies of Thornsby and Danthorpe with his stony facade and dull conversation, Gregory had found a lady who not only dubbed him Sir Stoneface and laughed at the appellation but found his company enjoyable in a way that no one else did.
And the more he came to know Mrs. Stuart, the more Gregory desired her. He had never imagined that such a thing could strike so quickly, but it had, and with Rodney’s lies sorted, was there any reason he couldn’t pursue her?
They drew ever nearer to the house, and there was only so much slowing Gregory could do before they were simply standing in place.
He hoped it was a good sign that Mrs. Stuart seemed not to notice their crawling pace.
Then they arrived at the drive, the gravel crunching beneath their shoes as he led her toward the gate that stood at the entrance to the property.
“I can call you a carriage,” he said.
“That is kind of you, but I am very used to walking. And it is not far to the village,” she said, motioning down the road.
Gregory considered that and wondered if it would be too presumptuous to accompany her home. That was gentlemanly, wasn’t it? And did it matter if it was forward of him? A fellow didn’t want his overtures to be overlooked.
But when he asked, she shook her head.
“Again, you are kind to offer, but I am very used to walking alone,” said Mrs. Stuart with a smile. “I shan’t come to harm.”
Gregory could well imagine that a lady would have to be resourceful when she was so very alone in the world.
Thornsby was safe enough for her to walk about, but Leeds boasted footpads and ruffians, and the thought of her managing such dangers stoked the heat in his heart.
Curse Rodney. How could he abandon his wife in such a fashion and leave her to fend for herself?
“Then perhaps we might try this again in a few days?” asked Gregory. “You can come for dinner with the children. Or even spend the whole day here.”
“I need to return to Leeds on Thursday, but I would love to do so before then,” she said, that brightness in her eyes blazing all the more. “Though I suppose if we wait until after I arrive home on Saturday, the boys will be back from school.”
“You are visiting Leeds again?”
Mrs. Stuart sighed. “Yes, unfortunately, there are several matters that I must attend to. But thankfully, with travel improving, it is easy enough to make the journey in half a day, so I can leave in the afternoon, have a day in Leeds, and then return the next. If only they would finish the rail line to Brackenfell sooner, then I could make the journey in half the time.”
Gregory straightened, considering that. “It shan’t cause trouble, going back and forth like that?”
“I cannot see why it would,” she said with a considering frown. “Mail allows me to correspond with those who manage the daily operations, and though it isn’t ideal, I can travel to Leeds for anything important.”
Could it be possible? For so long, Gregory had thought expansion was a question of either-or.
Either his family or Leeds. Either uproot the children from their home or abandon thoughts of building up his business.
Of course, there was no question as to which side he would choose, for his family and the children were his priority. But could he have both?
“I see I have given you much to think about,” said Mrs. Stuart, studying him.
“That you have.”
“Well then, this afternoon has been quite successful all around,” she said, giving him a broad smile as she finally released his arm. “But I ought to be on my way. Send word when you wish me to visit next.”
Gregory bowed and watched as the lady strode down the lane.
It wasn’t until she disappeared around a bend that he turned on his heel and marched across the drive, taking the front steps two at a time.
Opening the door, he divested himself of his outside clothes and abandoned them on the side table for the servants to see to.
But when he turned to move past the entry, Gregory spied a lone figure sitting on the steps of the grand staircase, hands tucked in her lap as Daphne’s eyes bored into him.
“Are you courting her?” she demanded, her tone as warm as a winter’s night.
“No.” The answer was truthful enough, but Gregory paused and considered that. In all actuality, he wasn’t courting Mrs. Stuart. But that didn’t mean he didn’t wish to. Did he owe the children that clarification?
Before he could consider what they deserved to know about him and his intentions, Daphne rose to her feet, a hard glint in her eye that wasn’t as vengeful or violent as her brother’s but was still sharp and unyielding.
Standing on the stairs as she was, Daphne towered over him, and she lifted her chin as she stared him down before turning around to climb up to the next floor.
“Would you care to go shopping for a new frock?” asked Gregory.
Daphne paused and peered over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed as she quietly asked, “Why?”
“I heard that every young lady ought to have a new frock for her first party.”
The ice in her expression melted away as she spun in place, her mouth agape as his meaning struck. “The party?”
Drawing in a deep breath, Gregory forced himself to answer. “Assuming my sister-in-law is willing to play chaperone, I see no reason you cannot attend the Billings’ card party. And I thought I could ask my mother and my sisters if they would take you shopping for a new gown for the event.”
Daphne gasped. “Truly?”
“Truly.”
Though she was dignified enough not to squeal and dance up on her toes with delight as Eva was prone to do, light filled her being, making Daphne shine in a manner that had her guardian worrying all the more.
All it would take was one of those smiles and every unmarried man in Yorkshire would be clamoring to court her.
Throwing her arms around him, Daphne embraced him before he knew what she was about. Though clearly, she hadn’t expected it either, for she jerked back with a blush on her cheeks. Then, spinning about, she hurried up the stairs as she rambled about needing to review the latest fashion plates.
“It was your mother’s idea,” called Gregory.
Daphne halted, her hand on the railing as she peered over her shoulder at him with brows pulled low and confusion gleaming in her eyes. Then, leaving the girl to her thoughts, Gregory turned away and strode toward the parlor.