Chapter 14

P erdita did not know up from down, left from right, or if the world was round or flat anymore. Perhaps the Earth did not go around the sun. Perhaps the sun went around the Earth because it certainly felt like she could no longer rely on anything.

She had always envisioned being happy at her wedding. She’d even envisioned a beautiful wedding, not this madness that had transpired all thanks to her brothers.

Brothers really couldn’t be trusted.

That’s what she was now sure about. She loved her brothers, but occasionally they were absolute scoundrels, complete and total fools. She knew that they meant well, but somehow this had all gone terribly, terribly wrong, and she was married.

It had happened quickly. The bishop had been quite fast, apparently eager to get back to his Christmas tipple and mincemeat. He liked sweets apparently, but he had been quite efficient, as had Gordon.

Gordon, she realized, was a master of efficiency.

Once he had decided to marry her, nothing got in his way. She couldn’t understand. She felt as if she was being whipped from one direction to the next. One moment, he was certain that he would not give in, the next he was giving in. But then again, in her experience, this was very often true with the male sex. They said one thing one day, then did another.

Ladies were by far the more stalwart, dedicated creatures. Still, as she stared at the Christmas tree and studied the ornaments in the darkening salon, with the fire crackling and the green branches turning a sort of shimmering soft hue, her heart sank. She did not know if she should laugh or cry. Surely, she should cry.

She’d been forced into marriage. Well, not forced. Maneuvered was a better word. It had worked out for her eldest sister, Hermia. She and her husband, the Earl of Drexel, were desperately happy.

But this was very different, wasn’t it? It was all a farce. It was like her brother had taken a leaf out of one of Shakespeare’s plays and decided that was the model in which one should live a life.

It was not. Shakespeare was well and good in the theater, but it wasn’t good for real life. She only prayed her mother was correct, that a wedding meant a comedy because, frankly, she had seen so many marriages in the ton end in tragedy.

Granted, she was made of sterner stuff than most, as was Gordon, but he seemed so taciturn tonight.

She had to believe that he would soften, that he would melt, that this Christmas would do it. But it seemed more that her brother’s machinations had shoved him farther down the path of not having much hope for mankind.

She couldn’t blame him. He was dismayed by the actions of people, and her brothers had all been a bunch of idiots—loving, kind-intentioned idiots, but idiots nonetheless. And now Gordon was one of the Briarwood clan.

That was how her family saw it. He was one of the brothers. Hopefully, he could see it too, but he didn’t seem to like it. Almost everyone who married into the Briarwood family absolutely loved the idea of being one of them once they realized it was happening, but not Gordon.

She couldn’t quite put her finger on why. She wondered if it was because he’d been so alone for so long. That had to be it, of course. But how did one circumvent such a thing?

And then the Christmas tree began to move for a brief moment. She wondered if she was about to witness the miracle that she had hoped for because she did not consider her marriage to be that miracle at all.

But then she heard it. Her cat mewing away.

“Oh dear,” she rushed. “Come down, darling. Get out. You shall knock the tree over, and that should be the worst end of the day.”

The cat stared at her with enigmatic eyes glowing like two lanterns in the darkness, as if to say, Come and get me .

She let out a sigh. “I can’t climb that. It’s not sturdy enough. Come down.”

The cat let out another mew, sniffed, and nibbled one of the branches.

“Don’t do that,” she warned. “That’s not good for you.”

And then, at long last, she fought a groan and resigned herself to having to get the cat out.

“Just a moment,” her husband whispered from behind her.

She jumped. How had he sneaked up on her so quietly?

Husband. She fought a wince. How she longed to feel wonderful about that word. She did not.

“You look as if you have gotten coal in you stocking for Christmas.”

She frowned. “How do you know about such things?”

He gave her a bemused smile. “Your mother has been telling me all about Christmas in Austria. Apparently, she met a young composer there named Beethoven. She thinks he is absolutely marvelous, and she wants to travel there again in the spring and see him. She says that we should go with her.”

She swallowed, trying to understand why he was saying this.

“Should we?” she asked softly.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t planning on going anywhere in the spring.”

She nodded. “Ah yes, you were going to be a hermit.”

“I still might be,” he replied factually. “Just because I’m married doesn’t mean I can’t be a hermit. You may go, of course.”

And there it was. A brutal statement. She could go and leave him behind. That was to be the kind of marriage they had, a proper ton marriage where you sometimes saw each other, had dinner together, went to balls together, but you were never really united. Never really as one. And how she longed to be as one with the man that she loved.

And yes, dear God, she did love him. Irascible fellow that he was.

So, she chose to protest against his suggestion. “No, I think you should come.”

“Well,” he breathed, “we will worry about that when the time comes. But right now I think I shall get that mischief-maker down.”

Gordon strode up to the tree, held out his hands, and made a little tsking sound. There was a low rumble in the cat’s throat. He was purring. Her cat had always adored her and sometimes tolerated other people, but this time her cat seemed as if he had fallen completely in love with her husband.

The cat jumped out of the tree and into his arms.

Gordon did not seem to mind. As a matter of fact, he caught the cat easily and cradled him to his chest. “You see, it just took the right person. You’re not happy at present. You’re in quite a turmoil.”

“Never mind the turmoil. Are you truly inferring that I’m not the right person for my cat?” she demanded with faux indignation.

He scratched the cat’s chin. “No, but the cat can sense your emotions. Besides, the tree is irresistible. But not as irresistible as me.”

For a moment, she was certain she had misheard him. Had he just made a splendid joke?

He had! And for a moment, she felt hope.

“You are irresistible. As is the tree,” she agreed. “That’s why I came in to look at it. I needed a bit of cheering up.”

“I’m sorry your wedding was such a disaster.”

“It’s not a disaster. After all, I married you.”

“Bloody hell, Perdita, that’s a terribly sentimental and rather beautiful thing to say.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “I thought it was fitting.”

“Is it?” he asked softly.

“Well, I don’t know, but if you think that the cat did not want to go with me because I’m not happy at present, does that mean that you are happy? Because the cat did go to you.”

He looked down at her slowly, then confessed, “I haven’t been happy in years, but I am content. I am at…peace with what’s happened. Perhaps this was always meant to be. I don’t have to like it. I don’t have to think much of it. I am simply going to accept it. And maybe, deep down, I wanted it. From the moment I got here, things have been going a certain way. Your brother warned me that if I fought it, it would be terrible, and I’m done fighting.”

“That sounds awful,” she groaned. “Don’t give up. My God, it makes me sound as if I am sort of a hideous rock that you must now endure, like Sisyphus who had to roll his boulder up that hill every day.”

His lips twitched as he continued to stroke the cat’s back. “You could never be a rock. You are too alluring and too magnificent.”

She grinned up at him, feeling a touch better. “I suppose it can’t be all bad if you’ve just so easily rescued my cat from a tree.”

“The cat didn’t need rescuing,” he said carefully. “The tree did.”

She gazed at him with wonder. He was such a unique person. It was such a pity that he’d not been able to affect more in the world, to change the lives of others as he’d so hoped. Because frankly, if he’d been given the power to do so, the world would be such a better place.

“You are a marvelous human being,” she said simply.

“Thank you. Most people don’t think so.”

She smiled at him. “Most people? Shall I give you a whole treatise on what the Briarwoods think of most people?”

“No,” he laughed. “I’ve endured too many long-winded speeches. Let’s not have one now. Instead…”

He placed the cat down and gently directed him towards the hallway, away from the tree. “Cat,” he ordered, “don’t come back. Go find yourself a nice juicy mouse.”

The cat let out a meow of acknowledgement and what one might have chosen to believe was agreement, then headed out into the hall.

“Poor mouse,” she said.

“Poor mouse indeed,” he agreed. “If I had accepted a long time ago that cats eat mice and that mice inevitably find their ends in such a way, I’d be a happier person.”

“You fought for the mouse for a very long time, didn’t you?” she mused.

“Yes, I did,” he admitted. “But I forgot the nature of the cat. The cat will always hunt. The mouse will always be caught, but sometimes the mouse is clever enough to get away. And sometimes the cat? Well, even though the cat eats the mouse, the cat is of great comfort and beauty, and a creature who knows the world better than most of us.”

She lifted her gaze to his. “You, sir, are a philosopher.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “That was a bit of philosophy that no philosopher would actually approve of.”

“Perhaps that makes it even better,” she pointed out, taking a step towards him. “After all, when philosophers first started, no one approved of what they said.”

He let out another, deeper laugh. One that seemed to brighten the shadows of the room and make the fireplace glow even brighter. “How right you are, Perdita. Now, whatever shall we do?”

She tilted her back and gazed up at her handsome husband, daring to let her hope take deeper root. “Well…” She laced her hands behind her back and considered teasingly, “I suppose, if we are to make the best of this, and you say that you have given in and accepted fate, and maybe even secretly wanted it... We are married,” she said. “And it is Christmas Eve.”

He slid his hand to her waist and pulled her against him. “Then I think there’s only one thing to do.”

“And what’s that?” she whispered, sweeping her arms up around his shoulders.

“Celebrate life,” he replied before he looked down into her eyes, angling his head so that his mouth lingered just over hers. “If you’re going to be my wife, I might as well accept the gift that I must have always wanted.”

“Do you mean that?” she breathed.

His eyes darkened with emotion. “I must. Because you are a wonder. And though this is not at all what I sought when I came here, and, frankly, I’m still not entirely certain how it’s all happened, I think a little part of me was glad that your brother opened those closet doors. Glad that he maneuvered us, and I’m glad that he had the license, and the bishop had been brought.”

“You don’t mind?” she gasped. “You don’t hate them?”

“How could anyone hate a Briarwood?” he said as he lifted his hand to her cheek. “I can rail against what happened. I can rail as I have done for years. Or I can accept that, for the most part, we are all being moved about by an unseen hand. And we are all hoping beyond hope for the best.”

They should have made her heart soar, his words…but they didn’t. He was still resigned to the world. He had not yet embraced its magic. But…it wasn’t Christmas yet. There was still time for a miracle.