37. The List

37

The List

Aphrodite, now seated across from Uncle, listened with growing horror and numbness.

The words, which she saw his mouth forming, the ones swirling about her like a tempest that refused to land, did however explain the stricken look from the window Richard had not been able to conceal, when they had stopped for a swift change of horses and a change of occupants. Uncle having joined her in Lady Redford’s carriage while the lady herself had bustled over to ride with Richard and Mercury.

“Seems several of your mother’s siblings never took to how their father refused them contact once she fled her planned marriage, choosing to run off with your father instead. Refused to even let them speak of her as he still had three more daughters to marry off and railed how the scandal would jeopardize those efforts.

“When the baron died, leaving his wealth to the eldest son—one of her three brothers—your uncles—the new title holder, unlike many, chose to portion some resources out for each of his siblings. More than that, once he was made aware of how severely his father had extinguished any mention of his missing sister, had refused any of the siblings contact with her and rebuffed her efforts at reconciliation once she was back in London, he made efforts to seek her out. His long-lost sister, your mother.”

Her mother. Who had siblings in abundance, it seemed. More uncles, her sole reliable relative claimed…aunts… family who wanted to know her, per Uncle Silas. Who had written to him of their impatience. Wanting him to tell her so she would be part of their lives.

The storm refused to abate. ’Twas like hail hitting her every exposed inch, every startling, unfathomable word he spoke drilling dismay deep. Threatening to destroy everything in its path. Now, when she should be floating with happiness, fragility peltered.

“But by then,” Uncle continued, “they knew not where she’d gone. It took time before they learned of the tragedies of their deaths, your mother and father’s, for the old baron had kept that news to himself. By then, they knew not where you had gone.

“In recent months, the new baron’s solicitor, who had inherited the brother’s custom from his father, chanced across mention of their direction, of your father’s family. Knowing of his client’s search for his missing relation, a series of letters began.

“Letters that traced you to me, and…well.” He sucked in a lungful of air. “Aphrodite, not only do they seek to renew acquaintance with you, but the siblings who disagreed with their father—your grandfather, the old baron… The ones who never countenanced his banishment of your mother? They put portions aside for her, never losing hope they would see her again and she would one day rejoin the family. Portions as their only child that are now yours. Portions that have grown these last fifteen years or more, and while you might not be considered an heiress possessing a fortune , you now have, at your disposal, the means to live, and quite comfortably, mind, the rest of your years without ever having to work again .”

Numb.

Money?

But Richard! The ephemeral life he’d alluded to. The joy being with him promised. The?—

“But”—Richard!—“Harriet…”

Never before had a carriage ride made her bilious. But news that should have delighted instead devastated. Threatened to destroy?—

“I know,” Uncle said. “You have commitments. Commitments to Lord and Lady Ballenger, to young Lady Harriet.” Uncle leaned forward, took up her lax fingers. Gave a squeeze. “Do you hear me, child? You are now a woman of means. You could travel. Own a townhouse outright in London, should you wish. Or a modest property in the country. Hire a trio of servants to tend it. To care for the grounds. To cook. To clean…”

With every word he uttered, the future he painted, all she could think was But I want the life Richard’s owdacious boldness made me think was possible…

“There is more, sweet Aphrodite, daughter of my heart.”

More? Could she take any more? Would Richard still want?—

Will he still want you? Now that you have funds? And Viola just complimented your intellect? Come now!

“Things I must confess…”

Lost. She was lost to him.

Numbness threatened to assail more than Warrick’s lower limbs.

A wealthy woman in her own right , Satan’s spawn had claimed. Great-grandfather was a viscount; rotten grandfather a baron.

Warrick had no hold over her.

Thundering hooves trampled homeward, scattering his thoughts, stomping the breath from his lungs. Froze him in place every bit as much as he’d been upon the battlefield.

Paralyzed.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.

Could only feel . Gut-deep remorse that he wasn’t another. Someone full of limb and accounts, able to court and woo her properly. Able to win her . Her, and not this blasted bank account she was only now learning of in the other carriage. With the wretched man who’d pretended to be her uncle, a relationship forged with naught but a note pinned to a child’s chest and handed over into his care.

Lady Redford, trusted confidant, Mercury’s dozing head perched upon the lady’s dress, the rest of the dog sprawled next to her, continued to answer questions and fill in whatever gaps Arbuckle’s distressing news had left.

Arbuckle. Who had been given the “gift” of Aphrodite by one of his former patients . A grateful mother who showed her “appreciation” by foisting off an unwanted child onto the helpful surgeon. Assuming he’d find her an apprenticeship or toss her into a foundling workhouse. He had never been expected to keep the “weeping, mournful chit” as she’d been described.

And are you not indebted that he did?

Thankful down to your booted, occasionally feeling toes that Arbuckle—the man you have failed to appreciate, to thank—altered the course of his life and gave hers a chance? Gave her a home?

Even sought out her family? Only to be told through the old baron’s solicitor he had no granddaughter to speak of ?

Warrick’s eyes watered; nose stung. That anyone could have cast aside such a bright light.

So easily could the joyful spirit he had come to cherish have been extinguished on the streets had Arbuckle not had the kindness, the generosity to care for and nurture her. So easily?—

Stop the mawkish turn, Rich. You need an heiress. Is she not perfect? Now that her purse is plump?

She had already been perfect, by damn. He could not use her like that.

His Aphrodite Primrose, whom his heart had already chosen.

Was that not the truth?

Had he not, ever since the injury and even before, rejected each and every female suggested to him as a potential countess?

Had his skin not crawled, tongue near spat and shudders wracked his frame at the notion of wooing a single one?

Yet had he not, from the humiliating moments of their very first meeting upon the Ballenger estate, sought her out? Her company. Her intriguing conversation. Her lips and taste?

Aphrodite Primrose, the Latin-speaking, alluring governess who made him ridiculously verbose? Who brought forth lyrical words and longing thoughts that he’d never had about, nor spoken to another?

Breath gusted audibly from between his lips.

By God. That was it. Not because of her newfound funds. But because he was utterly lost without her.

Aphrodite Primrose, the lass to whom he must propose .

Secure her willing allegiance to him forevermore, as she had his.

“Burn the list,” was what he said into the weighted silence between himself and Lady Redford.

No need for the list his mother had composed. The one of suitable, wealthy candidates. He had never intended to use it. And if Aphrodite has doubts about their future together, now that she has options? It mattered not.

Because he was fighting for the woman he loved.

“I care not if she has funds that could grant her another life. An easier life. It will not be a better life,” shared with utter conviction. “For no one else will love her as I do. Burn the bloody list.”

“Oh, dear Rich, there never was any list. Your mother fabricated that, fooled us both I daresay. She placed a folded scrap into my safekeeping and told me to hold on to it until you were ready. When you declined, and understandably so, after we buried her and grief was so fresh, I unfolded it—for it wasn’t sealed—vastly curious as to the females she might have thought worthy of you and her other children. Only to find naught but a brief note and a solicitor’s direction.”

No list?

“The man holds on to some schoolbook of Mr. Feldon’s,” she continued, “one he wanted passed down to Beaufort and Bertram, where she has tucked in letters for you all— all of her children—but didn’t want them delivered until everyone had gained a few years.

“Now that you have finally mentioned it, I shall see it returned to you so you can ensure the children receive what letters she has for them when you deem it appropriate. From what I can gather, she invented the list , hoping to encourage you to select your own wife. It took longer than she might have wished, but I believe it all worked out in the end, don’t you?”

No list?

His chest hurt, but a chuckle emerged anyway. No damn list.

“She would approve of your choice,” Lady Redford said. “Your mother. Not that you need to hear that, but ’tis true.”

“I may not need to hear it, but it will mean the world to Aphrodite. I may tell her you said so.”

“I will tell your future bride myself. In the two years Elizabeth and I traveled together, stayed in London together, fought for both you and Ward; in the years I was blessed by her friendship, I daresay I came to know her as well as any.

“Did you know I accompanied her on her travels to Bath, once she learned of Silas? Sought to convince him to see you? It took more than one effort, I will share.”

Knowing now what he did of his family’s finances—of his mother’s and what all she had faced alone, without his help—he had no doubt that Lady Redford had likely funded much of those efforts. The travel. Had helped keep his mother safe, as well as comforted by the presence of a friend.

“Thank you. For everything. For myself. And for Mama.”

Her lips wobbled before she firmed them and continued. “Other than her death, other than you boys both being hurt so severely, I would not change any of it. For it brought me to Silas. It has brought both you and Ward strong women, happiness. Comforting futures for one and all, would you not say?”

He would say. He would shout to the heavens. If only he could hold Aphrodite in his arms, see how she got on. If her uncle’s revelations had stunned Warrick, how was she bearing up to the news?

He glanced out the window but without taking it down and sticking his head completely out—something he would not do to the lady he traveled with, not given how cold seeped in from the edges—he could not see the other carriage. But he knew how close they were. Close yet far, given the ache in his palms and his chest. How he needed to hold her close.

“And you will speak on my behalf?” Lady Redford inquired after he resumed his seat, settled after straining his yearning gaze out the window. “You will tell Ward you approve?”

“What? Of you and Arbuckle?”

“Just so.”

He remained silent. Let the jingle of harnesses and galloping hooves fill the air.

“Rich…”

“I’m thinking.”

“Rich!” A startled cry.

“Trying to decide.”

“That isn’t at all humorous.” But he saw her lips twitch.

“I beg to differ.” A satisfied grin crawled across his face. “After all the ordering me about over the last months, the harping on accounts, the deceptions? He’s due a bit of squirming.”

“Rich.” A sigh this time.

“But I promise not to leave him dangling on the hook for too overly long. For without his machinations which stranded us together, Aphrodite and I might not have made our way to each other.”

Aye, you would have. Eventually.

He made a fist and banged on the ceiling, signaling to the coachman to stop.

Alarm flared in Lady Redford’s eyes. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.” Nothing except the woman he loved was in the wrong carriage. “I would like to stretch my legs.”

It wouldn’t occur to him until later, much later, how that might be a good sign. It occurred to Silas instantly, the moment the horses were reined to a halt and everyone climbed down.

Even if they left the ambulatory chair tied in place and Silas and one of the groomsmen assisted Warrick finding a spot of privacy, just the fact that his patient used the phrase stretch my legs , the acknowledgment of restlessness, he hoped, was a positive sign indeed.

But after a few moments, when it came time to return to the seats inside, after Mercury had romped about until whistle-commanded to come back and the longing glances his niece kept casting after Lord Warrick made Silas as nauseous as if he sailed aboard a ship, he was beyond ready to see the journey ended. For only after this journey ended could he contemplate his return trip to Bath.

Glory. His patients!

At the realization he had abandoned everything in Bath, to jaunt north, he near slapped his forehead. Still hadn’t remembered to bring his blasted favorite hat. Cold nipped at his ears every bit as much as the last agonizing minutes had battered his heart.

Holding the gently crying Aphrodite as she learned he wasn’t her uncle in truth had threatened to break him. But with honesty shared, with feelings that could never be extinguished and an acknowledgment of the solid relationship forged over years between them, he hoped the woman he thought of as a daughter would continue to want him in her life.

“I will ride with Aphrodite,” Lord Warrick announced before ascending into his borrowed carriage.

“Not unchaperoned, you won’t!” blustered from his lips.

“Silas.”

“Uncle!”

The women’s soothing tones clashed with Lord Warrick’s contempt.

“Good God, man, do you think I am crass enough to try and tup her in a carriage?” With you only a length away didn’t need expressed. His scowl made it clear enough.

“Very well,” Silas finally agreed.

But watching his niece climb in after the lordling did nothing to calm the seas battering his insides.