Chapter 18

B egging? Nausea swept through Julian at the thought.

Some people had no other recourse, and he didn’t fault them for doing whatever they could to feed themselves and their families, but disdain had dripped from Ernest’s tone when speaking of his sons’ sensible professions, as though begging from his neighbors (and no amount of justification on Ernest’s part would convince Julian it was anything else) was the more honorable course.

“Oh, my! Is that the time?” asked Mrs. Callaghan as she glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. Turning to the two children, she nudged them toward the door. “Come now, we must get you two in bed.”

Miss Callaghan moved as though to go, but her mother waved her away.

“I have them in hand, dear. You’ve been working yourself to the bone of late.” Upon passing her daughter, she placed a kiss on the lady’s head before herding her grandchildren out of the room, leaving the door open for propriety’s sake. Though she murmured a word of gratitude in response, Miss Callaghan kept her eyes downturned as footsteps sounded on the stairs and the little ones began jabbering at their grandmother, bargaining with all their might for more time to play.

Miss Callaghan wilted under his regard, showing the first genuine sign of discomposure he’d ever seen in her. But still, he couldn’t help asking her one question.

“Why didn’t you warn me?”

*

The day of reckoning. Everyone knew it arrived eventually, but no matter how much one anticipated and prepared, it still managed to surprise. Whilst Papa’s other visitors had paid little attention and cared not one jot about how the Callaghans supplemented their income, Angelica had known Mr. Knight wasn’t cut from the same cloth. Just as he hadn’t been content to steal her bed.

And now, he sat there, his bright eyes fading with disappointment and shock as he awaited her answer. But what could she say?

Shifting in her seat, Angelica fought against the itchy feeling that crawled up and down her skin whenever this subject was broached. She cast her mind back to the time when the lies of “caroling” and “Christmas cheer” had crumbled, revealing the disgusting truth beneath. Those frustrated expressions pointed at her during the holidays. The stifled laughs when the family ventured into public. The Callaghans were the village joke, and though her parents seemed oblivious, Angelica felt every ounce of that disapproval and mockery.

But then, she couldn’t blame the people for being disgruntled when they were harassed to supplement the income of a man who refused proper employment and were belittled for chasing financial security.

Angelica struggled with what to say, and all the while, Mr. Knight patiently awaited her answer. Her throat tightened as pain surged through her, making her eyes burn.

“Would you have believed me?” she whispered.

“You might have tried.”

“I am embarrassed!” Angelica drew in a sharp breath, turning her gaze away from him to stare at the fireplace. “Do you know how much it hurts to have a cherished tradition turn out to be a black mark against me and my family? For years, I loved our caroling—only to discover we were just props, used to guilt our neighbors. It breaks my heart to see Gael and Alegría embracing the tradition because one day they will discover the truth and realize that the village pities or despises them, and it will be Emily and me who mop up their tears.”

Though she heard Mr. Knight shifting, Angelica couldn’t bear to look at him as she felt him settle into the chair beside her.

“I am sorry for that, and I am sorry for asking such an accusatory question. I was shocked—that is all—and I do not fault you for not speaking up. Who would wish to admit that truth?” Drawing in a deep breath, he added, “In fact, I owe you an apology for making light of the situation and thinking you were a Christmas curmudgeon.”

Angelica’s brows rose at that, but they lowered the next moment as her strength ebbed, leaving her feeling deflated. “I cannot blame you for that. I am the curmudgeon of the Callaghan clan.”

“Not at all,” he said with a shake of his head. “The more I come to know them, the more I think you may be the only one with an ounce of sense, and if that is curmudgeonly, then I wish to be as curmudgeonly as you.”

Snapping her book closed, Angelica straightened as her lungs drew in a sharp breath. The earnestness in his words wrapped around her, seeping through her skin and into her very core.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

His knees were angled toward her, drawing her gaze to him and up his torso until she finally met his eyes. Part of her longed to hide away from that piercing stare, but the sweetness she spied there was like nectar to a bumblebee, drawing her in. To be seen not as a vexation but as someone worthy of admiration was so intoxicating that Angelica couldn’t bear for this moment to end.

“I am sorry that I didn’t pay attention to your warning,” he said with a wan smile. “Vague though it may have been, I ought to have given it more credence.”

But before she could think what to say in response, his expression pulled into a faint sneer as he mumbled, “It seems I am forever apologizing to you. Might I simply give you one grand declaration of remorse and have it apply to every future mistake?”

A halting chuckle escaped at that, and Angelica shook her head. “I like hearing you apologize.”

“Then I suppose I am doomed to forever prostrate myself before you.”

“No need. It isn’t the groveling I enjoy.” Pausing, Angelica considered the thoughts bouncing about her head and how to explain them. “Every one of us is fallible, yet I rarely receive apologies. Simply hearing the words is wonderful.”

She drew in a deep breath, and her gaze fell away from him as she straightened her skirts. “And I must apologize for not being more forthright when we spoke. Had my pride not gotten the better of me, I could’ve warned you better.”

There was a long pause before the gentleman asked, “Do you think that now that I know what it is for, he will return the money to me? I know you have a very tight-fisted approach to such things, but perhaps your father is more forgiving.”

Mr. Knight spoke in a nonplussed manner, but there was a hint of a smile to his tone, and Angelica’s gaze darted to him.

“Are you trying to tease me out of my doldrums?” she asked.

“Is it working?”

Angelica fought back the smile. At least, she tried, but the thing kept fighting her control, and it was clear from Mr. Knight’s brightening expression that he knew it.

“You are awfully fixated on your money, sir,” she said in a prim tone. “First you harangue me about a few coins, and now you are asking about those you gave my father. Are you so desperate for funds? If so, my father is quite good with maintaining an income whilst doing very little work. No doubt he could advise you on how to coerce your neighbors into funding your lifestyle.”

Mr. Knight’s lips pulled into a considering frown, and he nodded along as though truly weighing the prospect. But before he could continue down that silly vein, Angelica straightened and reached forward, taking his hand up in hers before she could think better of it.

“Thank you for being so kind to me, and I must apologize for my own poor opinion when we first met,” she said with a furrowed brow. “I have spent my life surrounded by poets and the like. In all the years of Papa bringing them into our home, not one of them considered the fact that they had dislodged me from my bedchamber, let alone cared enough to choose the floor so I wouldn’t have to be without.”

Her throat tightened, but she fought to add, “You have been so kind, and I cannot tell you how much of a blessing it has been. And if we can both refrain from leaping to conclusions regarding the other we might even become good friends.”

*

In all his life, Julian couldn’t think of anything he liked better than the feel of Miss Callaghan’s hand on his. Especially when she was gazing at him with such warmth. His heart pounded in his chest, pushing him to press his suit. Faint heart never won fair lady, after all.

Yet beneath the rushing pulse and the blazing heat that drew him nearer, Julian’s rational side prevailed. Miss Callaghan had made her feelings clear, and if she were to change them, it wouldn’t be because he harangued her into accepting his suit.

“Friends” was not a terrible place to start. Quite the opposite, in fact. Julian couldn’t help but preen at the thought of counting this dear lady as his friend, for though their acquaintance was new, the more he came to know her, the more he admired her. The instincts that had established him in his profession were the same ones that surged to the forefront now, reminding him that caution led to greater long-term rewards, and Julian was quite ready to see what dividends this friendship might supply.

“As it is to be a quiet night at home, would you join me for some reading?” he asked. “We can have Maggie bring up a tea tray, and we can relax on the sofa whilst enjoying each other’s company.”

Miss Callaghan’s eyes warmed, giving away the pleasure she felt at that proposition, though she answered with a disinterested wave of her hand. “I suppose that might be an acceptable way to pass the evening.”

Quite acceptable, indeed.