Page 23 of The Love Remedy (The Damsels of Discovery #1)

23

Thorne dragged himself from bed the next morning, surprised that he’d slept at all. Though he’d washed when he returned home last night, he could still smell the faintest hint of eucalyptus and wool on his skin.

No. That was a passing fancy.

There was nothing left of Lucy on him.

She’d kept her back to him last night. All he could see as he got dressed was the line of her spine beneath the shawl, which made him long to scold her about not eating enough, even if what she ate was terrible. He hadn’t, though. Scolded her. Thorne had no right. She was to marry another man.

A mountain range had been painted in frost on each of the windowpanes. A sharp wind promising bitter cold rattled the panes. Best to start early and get the day over with.

Thorne took himself off to the privy, then knocked on Sadie’s door when he came back.

“You must up for school, Sadie,” he said through the door.

There was no response. In the kitchen he sliced a day-old loaf of bread for toast. As he set the knife against the bread, something made him stop and listen.

The other night, Sadie said that Lucy’s lack of snoring woke her. That the silence was louder than the noise of his snores.

“Sadie?” Thorne knocked on the door again, and when there was still no answer, he opened the door and regarded the neatly made bed.

“Sadie?” he whispered to the empty room.

No one answered.

Grabbing his boots, Thorne flew into the hall, trying to put them on at the same time he went down the staircase.

“Sadie!” he called, a terrible sinkhole of panic opening before him.

“Mr. Thorne, what—”

Juliet came out of the door to her set of rooms looking much the worse for wear. However she and David had celebrated last night had left her face swollen and eyes red and bleary.

“Sadie,” he said, sitting on the stair above the landing and trying to force a boot on his left foot, only to realize it was the wrong foot. “She’s not in her room. She’s not at home. She’s gone...”

Lucy came and stood next to Juliet, and Thorne reached out to her, needing her to save him.

“Have you seen her?” he asked. Begged.

Lucy came to his side and took his hand, speaking in a calm, clear manner, as though he were a patient.

“We will get dressed and begin a search. When we find her, she will not be allowed to play with any of my jarred organs for the rest of the week, but we will find her .”

Thorne nodded, and the gray fog that had been obscuring his vision cleared away. Ah. He’d forgotten to breathe. Lucy held his hand for three more deep breaths, then rose to her feet.

“I shall check with the omnibus drivers and ask if any of them picked her up this morning,” David announced, coming out of his front door, fully dressed and well shod.

Shoes. Thorne leaned over and pulled his boots onto the correct feet. Omnibus, yes. Hacks. List of places she might go.

“Did she leave a note?” Juliet asked.

Note.

Thorne looked up at the three siblings, but no words came. How could he explain that the world was off-kilter, and he was drowning?

“What I want to know is how she opened the lock on the back door,” Juliet said. “She’s too short to reach it on her own, and it sticks.”

With a glorious rush, the world returned to Thorne. Once more he could breathe, and he took the stairs two at a time. The front doors were shut, and when he tried them, they remained closed.

A split second later, Lucy poked her head out of the shop’s back room, put a finger to her lips, and beckoned to him.

It isn’t pleasant to live for any amount of time without your heart. Thorne’s skin was cold and clammy, his hands shook, and his lungs stuttered when he entered the back room and saw Sadie, carpetbag at her side, slumped over the table where she normally did her schoolwork, arms pillowing her head.

Asleep.

Alive.

Thorne sank to the floor and put his head down. Imagine Sadie woke and found him fainted dead away? What would she think of her papa then?

Why had she done this?

Lucy crouched and put a hand on his shoulder. For a while they remained there, not moving, even when Juliet and David put their heads in, then left again.

“She has a pretty snore,” Lucy whispered.

“Like her father,” Thorne replied.

Lucy opened her mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it and closed it again.

It took another minute or so for him to be certain he could stand and not make a cake of himself.

He rose, and Lucy slipped her hand from his shoulder to his elbow.

“Are you going to faint?” she asked quietly. “I can run to get some smelling salts.”

“Might do,” Thorne admitted. “Stay by my side, just in case?”

“I...” Lucy stared at him, open-mouthed. “Of... of course,” she stammered.

They walked, side by side, to the sleeping child. On the table in front of Sadie was an ink bottle, a pen, and two dirty pen wipes as well as a sheet of paper with paragraph after paragraph of what looked like false starts of a letter, all headed “Dear Papa.”

“Sadie,” Thorne said softly. He touched a finger to her cheek. “You have a great deal of explaining to do, as well as drool to clean up.”

Sleepy eyes blinked, then rolled up toward him. For the sweetest moment in Thorne’s recent memory, a waking smile crept across Sadie’s face, as if she were happy to see him. As if being here with him was preferable to wherever she went in the dreaming.

“Papa,” she whispered.

The smile disappeared as she fully woke, and Sadie straightened. She wiped her sleeve across her mouth, then stared at the pool of ink where she’d drooled in her sleep.

Thorne sat next to her and drew the paper toward him.

“Is this a letter for me?” he asked gently.

Lucy put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in, pressing against him, giving him back the last of his composure.

“I shall just go put on a pot of tea and see what we have from Mrs. Locksley in the larder, shall I?” she asked.

Thorne nodded, then set his hand over hers and squeezed, like a survivor of a disaster bidding farewell to a fellow survivor.

When Lucy left, Sadie pulled the paper back toward herself and folded it in half.

“I think internal organs are exciting.”

Thorne’s brows went up as he digested Sadie’s news.

“I have gathered this from your great interest in anatomy,” he said, watching her mobile face for any clues as to where this conversation would go. Hopefully nowhere he couldn’t stomach.

“I don’t want to go into service,” Sadie said so quickly that the words ran together. “I want to be a secret doctor like Miss Juliet and Mrs. Sweet.”

Feck. Sadie must have overheard Mrs. Merkle the other day. Thorne took a deep breath and settled his nerves. Sadie bit her lip. “I was going to go live with Mrs. Downwith so you could marry Mrs. Merkle and have babies whose parents are married and who you wouldn’t be embarrassed—”

“No, Sadie, God no.” Thorne got out of his chair, knelt on the floor next to her, and took her soft, warm hand into his. “I have never been embarrassed by you.”

Sadie’s eyes filled with tears, but she was too proud to shed them. “Lord Blackstone invited me for tea, and you never told me.”

Oh God.

“It’s because I’m a bast—” she began.

“Don’t.” Thorne reached over and set his finger across Sadie’s lips. “Don’t you ever use that word about yourself or anyone else.”

This conversation was long overdue because Thorne had never managed to come up with explanations that might make sense to a young girl. Or to anyone with a heart in them. He took a deep breath and did the best he could.

“The world gives people labels. They want everyone defined by a set of harsh rules.”

“Rules like the Ten Commandments?” Sadie asked.

“No. Made-up rules, like who can go to school or be a doctor and who can’t. Rules about what kind of person deserves respect and who doesn’t. Rules that are meant to keep most people small and a few people powerful.”

Thorne’s knees complained so loudly he had to get back into his chair. Not wanting to lose contact, he pulled Sadie onto his lap while he spoke.

“Our hearts, though. Our hearts don’t care about someone else’s rules. Love happens where it will. Nothing Mrs. Merkle or anyone else who makes up the rules can do will change this. That word you said—that is a word soaked in cruelty and doesn’t apply to you. If I were to describe you with words, they would be kind and brilliant and wise and...”

Thorne buried his nose in Sadie’s hair and breathed deep, overwhelmed by what he should say and what he couldn’t articulate, even now.

“You are a part of me,” he said, “but also apart from me. You are braver and brighter than I ever was when I was a boy. You deserve the world, Sadie, even if the world doesn’t deserve you.”

Sadie set her hand to his cheek. “That is a lot of words just to say you love me.”

Thorne’s heart did some complicated calisthenics as he absorbed his daughter’s observation.

“I suppose it is,” he agreed. “I love you, Sadie. I’m not embarrassed by you. I’m embarrassed that I ever considered marrying Mrs. Merkle. I am embarrassed that I didn’t tell you about Lord Blackstone’s invitation. He’s...”

Sadie’s mouth drooped. “There was a note with the second book. It had been slipped between the pages. He is your papa, isn’t he?”

Ah. That explained a great deal.

“I am... was... am angry with my papa. It has been many years since I’ve spoken with him,” Thorne confessed.

“If he is your papa, that means he is my grandfather,” Sadie said.

“Yes, well.” Thorne steeled himself against the longing in Sadie’s voice. He wasn’t going to let anyone hurt Sadie the way Mrs. Merkel had, and would have a long talk with his parents first before bringing her anywhere near them.

“You and I have some talking to do,” Thorne said. “I think you might have more questions than I’d guessed, and I owe you some answers.”

Sadie leaned back against Thorne’s chest, and he held her tight, listening to the sounds of London waking up outside while the rhythm of his pulse returned to normal.

“Are you certain you don’t want to marry Mrs. Merkel?” Sadie asked.

“I will never marry anyone who doesn’t love and care for you,” Thorne replied.

“Hmmm.”

Thorne’s body tensed. Good Christ, what was Sadie going to say next? Would his heart take any more today?

“If you aren’t marrying Mrs. Merkel, do we have to move to Scotland?”

Thorne’s shoulders dropped in relief. “No, we will find a set of rooms somewhere else.”

“Somewhere that smells as nice as here?” she asked.

“Umm...”

“With people as kind as the Petersons downstairs and Mr. Gentry and Katie?” she asked.

Er...

“Was Miss Peterson worried when you told her I was missing?”

“Oh, yes,” Thorne assured her. “She was beside herself. You must go see her, and Miss Juliet and Mr. Peterson as well, and apologize to them for the worry you caused.”

This did not propel Sadie from the safety of Thorne’s lap. Instead, she shifted to examine Thorne’s face as he spoke.

“If she was beside herself with worry, that means she cares for me.” Sadie’s eyebrows lifted like sinister little triangles.

“I’m sure she does,” Thorne agreed. “However—”

Sadie slumped, her shoulders touching her earlobes. “How come good things have to be hard? Why can’t being happy be easy?”

Well.

Thorne turned that question over in his head as he helped Sadie collect her bag. They held hands as they walked up the back stairs and came to a halt before the Petersons’ front door. Sadie gazed up at him, resignation plain on her face, and something that had held Thorne together for a long time finally snapped.

“You are right,” he told her.

“Right about what?” Her voice was low, a combination of hope and disbelief.

“Why can’t being happy be easy?”

Sadie’s frown melted as she examined his face.

“You go have a glass of lemonade and something to eat,” Thorne said. “I will be right back.”

A burst of joy made its way from his face to hers. Sadie’s eyes lit, and a silly, wonderful, altogether ridiculous grin stretched her face wide.

“Don’t stay away too long,” she cautioned him.

“No. I don’t want to be gone from you any longer than I have to be,” Thorne promised. He could hear words of greeting on the landing above as he took the stairs two at a time and hustled out of the shop.

—

The scent of turmeric infused the apartment air, and Lucy checked the boiled potatoes while, in the parlor, David played the spinet as Juliet and Sadie sang along. David hadn’t practiced in forever, but he managed a song or two from memory, and Juliet had a beautiful voice. The surprise had been Sadie’s skill with harmonies.

Not even Mrs. Merkle would have something bad to say about the rendition of “And Can It Be That I Should Gain” that filled the Petersons’ rooms this evening. Unsurprisingly, this hymn beginning with a question about blood was Sadie’s favorite.

Lucy sighed at the sound of paper crinkling as she smoothed down the note in her apron pocket. Katie had written to let her know that her menses had begun, and she would be absent from work for the next three days.

In return, Lucy had sent a boy to the Quinlavins’ home with a basket full of willow bark tea, clean rags, and a small jar filled with a tincture that helped soothe cramping.

What came next, Lucy had no idea, but she would take her cues from Katie. The last thing she wanted was to take away any more choices from the girl.

“I believe the potatoes are ready,” Lucy informed the choir after they sang the last line.

She turned to Sadie. “I don’t know where your papa might have gone, but I can hear your stomach grumbling even over the thumping and squeaking that my brother is making with that poor, tortured spinet.”

David stuck out his tongue, but Lucy ignored him.

“I think we should sit down to supper, and if—”

A knock came from the front door. Sadie bit the corner of her bottom lip and jiggled in place. David frowned, and Juliet nodded once, as if confirming some unspoken question.

Thorne had not been in the hallway when they opened the door to Sadie a few hours earlier. She had prettily apologized for having worried them that morning and asked if she might come in for a visit while her papa carried out an errand.

“Whatever sort of errand must he see to right after such a scare?” Lucy had asked.

Sadie had held her hands over her mouth for a few seconds and composed herself poorly, then told them she wasn’t exactly sure where he was going, only that it was very important and most likely a surprise, and were there tarts?

A second knock set Lucy to moving, untying her apron as she approached the front door. Like little ducklings, David, Juliet, and Sadie followed her. Thus, Thorne was greeted by a veritable receiving line when he entered.

“Good God, have you been hitting books with your face again?” David exclaimed.

Thorne tilted his head, confused, then hastily ran his ungloved hands through his hair. Lucy had never seen him in such disarray. He’d neither top hat nor gloves, there was sawdust on the lapels of his navy wool greatcoat, and a tiny plaster had been set over a cut near his ear, surrounded by bruising.

“I have not been hitting books with my face, no,” Thorne said, then lifted his nose in the air and sniffed. “Am I too late for curry?”

“Never mind that,” Lucy said. “Where have you been, and why do you look as though you were dragged there and back?”

Thorne and Sadie exchanged a glance, and Sadie nodded rapidly, her hands fisting her skirts.

What was this?

From an inside pocket, Thorne withdrew a crumpled and dirtied envelope, then handed it to Lucy.

“This is the first part of your formula.”

Lucy opened her mouth, but no sound emerged.

“Did you hit Duncan Rider?” David asked. He grinned and slapped Thorne on the shoulder. “Good on you, Thorne—ow!”

Lucy had grabbed David by the sensitive skin of his underarm and pulled him back. “It is not good on anyone to resort to violence,” she admonished him. Tentatively, she took the envelope from his hand, noting the absence of bruises or cuts on Thorne’s knuckles.

“I didn’t hit Duncan,” Thorne said. He came to stand beside Lucy and held out his arms to his daughter. Sadie walked into his embrace, and a combination of pleasure and relief smudged the hard line of wrinkles across his forehead.

“ I would have hit Duncan,” Juliet muttered beneath her breath.

Lucy crossed her arms over her chest, tapping the letter against her side. “If you didn’t hit Duncan, why do you look as though you hit someone?”

Thorne put his hand on Sadie’s head and smiled down at her. “I didn’t hit someone, someone hit me.”

He waved his hand to quiet the chorus of consternation that sprang up at his announcement. With a sheepish expression, Thorne explained that he’d gone to Rider and Son Apothecary to demand Lucy’s croup salve formula be returned. Rather than fight about it, Duncan acquiesced easily. When Thorne inquired as to why, a pretty young woman with brilliant gold curls and wide blue eyes came out from the consultation room. Even if she and Duncan hadn’t flushed when they met each other’s eyes, Duncan’s misbuttoned waistcoat and the woman’s reddened mouth said it all.

Thorne looked down at Lucy, who stared at the envelope. “I am sorry, Miss Peterson. I know you loved him and—”

Lucy gasped in outrage. “Love Duncan Rider? Never.”

“No?” he asked, confusion knitting his brows together.

“I never told Duncan I’d marry him. He simply assumed he could wear me down,” she explained.

“But, Papa, who hit you?” Sadie asked, stepping from the circle of Thorne’s arms, setting her hands on her hips, and tapping her foot. “And when do you get to the good part?”

The good part?

“On my way back to the shop, I happened to pass the Lion’s Den,” Thorne explained. A slight blush tinted his skin a soft pink beneath his cheekbones. “I stopped in and had a little chat with Katie’s da.”

“You hit Joe Quinlavin?” David exclaimed.

“Not exactly.” Thorne loosened his cravat and cleared his throat. “You see, I have a reputation as a prizefighter. The Gentleman Fighter had only ever been knocked to the floor three times.”

“Men,” Juliet muttered with disgust.

Thorne nodded in agreement. “I had to let myself be knocked to the ground publicly in order to get Quinlavin’s agreement.”

“Agreement to what?” Lucy asked, staring at the man standing before her. Nothing about any of this made sense. Duncan and a golden-curled woman? Thorne letting himself be knocked to the ground?

“Agreement to let Katie go to the science academy for girls up in North Yorkshire when she’s ready.”

A thrum vibrated low in Lucy’s belly as she put the pieces together. Behind her, Sadie bounced up and down on her toes.

Thorne cleared his throat, and Sadie hissed something that sounded suspiciously like “down on one knee.”

Lucy turned and stared at Sadie, then back at Thorne, who was shaking his head like a dog with a flea and mouthing the word no .

Juliet and David stepped back, David covering his mouth so as not to laugh. Lucy couldn’t move, frozen at Thorne’s side like a great fool, the blood rushing to her head so fast she feared she might faint.

“Papaaaaaaa,” Sadie whispered. “You must.”

Thorne sighed a deep breath in the way one might sigh if one were tasked with pushing a giant rock up a hill. Now Juliet had started giggling, and she and David leaned on each other as their shoulders shook and eyes teared up.

With an audible snapping and creaking, Thorne dropped onto one knee and reached for Lucy’s hand.

“You do not have to—no, please don’t,” Lucy babbled.

Thorne shook his head more slowly this time, seemingly resigned to this fate.

“You asked me to complete my mission, and I’ve done so,” he said, the words rasping together like stones. “It gave me great pleasure to do it. Missions are like bookkeeping. There is a starting point, a list of facts, and a resolution.”

Lucy nodded. “Very orderly.”

Thorne turned Lucy’s hand over in his. While his hands would never be pretty, they felt safe and secure.

“I like order and routine. Rules and schedules,” he agreed. “When I make myself a promise, I stick to it.”

Unable to bear it any longer, Lucy knelt on one knee as well. Their knees touched and Thorne took the opportunity to hold Lucy’s hand close to his heart.

“Sometimes—and this will come as a surprise to you—sometimes I make mistakes.”

Sadie let out a snort and Thorne scowled.

How perfectly romantic.

“I made rules for myself—I swore I would never fall in love with a beautiful woman,” Thorne said. “I swore I’d never speak to my family again. That I’d never throw parties ever again.”

“How sad, Mr. Thorne,” said David quietly.

“Yes, well. I thought those rules would keep me away from the bottle and make me a better father to Sadie.”

Lucy nodded. “I understand. Rules are there to keep us safe.”

Thorne fixed his gaze on hers. “Yes, but Sadie and I had an interesting conversation just recently about how some rules are ready to be broken. The rules that keep us silent in the face of injustice. The rules that label us as good or bad, deserving or undeserving based solely on our sex or the class to which we were born.”

A tingling started behind Lucy’s eyelids, and she blinked away tears.

“Rules about how women are compelled to live by a separate code of morals than men, and the one-sided consequences women are made to endure when men take away their ability to choose,” he said slowly.

A rush of happiness punched at Lucy’s stomach, and she set her hands against her belly to hold herself in.

“You’d said I was trapped by my rules. You were right.” Thorne lifted the back of Lucy’s hand to his mouth and laid a kiss there, a burning kiss that served as a balm to Lucy’s fears and worries.

“I wish to move forward,” he whispered, his mouth hovering above her skin. “I wish to move forward together with you.”

A lone tear traveled down Lucy’s cheek.

“You listened to me,” she said, fighting to force the words out past the lump in her throat.

“I did,” he agreed. “All this time, no matter how frustrated or angry I might have been, I have always listened to you. It doesn’t mean we will always agree, but if we listen to each other, we will come to a resolution.”

Lucy gripped his hand and pulled it close, echoing his kiss.

“I love you, Jonathan Thorne,” she said, another tear now free, rolling down the bridge of her nose. “Will you marry me?”

“Oh, no!” Sadie exclaimed. “You aren’t supposed to ask. The man is supposed to ask.”

Thorne shook his head, the corners of his mouth turning up, his wounded face alight with happiness.

“I think this is another one of those rules ready to be broken,” he told his daughter. With a groan, Thorne got to his feet and pulled Lucy up next to him. “As is this bended knee nonsense.”

He reached for Lucy and tilted her face up to his. “I love you, Lucy Peterson. And I am happy to marry you.”

“Huzzah!”

Lucy chuckled at Sadie’s cheer just as Thorne bent to kiss her. They swallowed the laugh and let the joy settle in their veins. While their family applauded, Lucy and Thorne sealed their proposal with a kiss, then another, and then one more before David began making retching noises and Sadie knocked over a pile of books while dancing with Juliet.

That night they sat over dinner for a long time. There was music and laughter, but no wine and just a little dancing.

Lucy knew, for all their differences, a way forward would come to them, not always easily found, but some things in life are not meant to be easy.

Except for love. It turned out that love was the easiest thing in the world.