Earl's Well That Ends Well Page 23

And then, quite suddenly it seemed, all was settled. Some of the dancers returned to lodgings near the theater and their work. Odile and others moved to the new house to recover more fully in peace. Señora Alvarez departed with the briefest of goodbyes for her own home. And Arthur’s house suddenly seemed very empty. He might have felt melancholy about that, if he had not had a firm plan in mind for the future.

  Fourteen

  Teresa sat before the small fire in her small parlor and contemplated her narrow little life. Not long ago, this state had seemed the height of peace and contentment. Now, because she had allowed herself to venture out into another sort of existence, it felt empty. Her tranquility was spoiled. She’d let that happen.

  Yet how could she have done otherwise? When the dancers began disappearing, should she have turned away and ignored this…evil? Impossible. That was how evil grew, when no one stepped forward to fight it. And she’d done well. She’d found a way to help those who needed it. She had been part of creating a refuge for women going on into the future. This was splendid. She was proud and glad. So she mustn’t care if this effort had caused difficulties for her. The result was well worth the sacrifice.

  If only she had not allowed herself to fall in love with an earl and then to believe, for a while, that there might be some future with him. She ought to have resisted this stupidity.

  Eliza looked in from the kitchen. “Would you like some tea, ma’am? Or a glass of wine perhaps?” The maid had been delighted to have Teresa back in the house, but now she appeared concerned.

  “No thank you, Eliza.”

  The girl frowned at her before she withdrew.

  She had resisted him, of course, Teresa thought. With all her might. She had held back, doubted, rejected. It had been a long battle of will and wits. But Lord Macklin had countered every gambit and gradually made his way into her heart. So deeply into her heart. Even now her thoughts were full of his handsome figure, his wonderful smile, his many sterling qualities. Most of all she remembered the kiss—a simple act, lasting only a few moments, that had shown her how much of life she’d been missing. It still made her dizzy to think if it.

  But in the last few days, as the final arrangements for the dancers’ future were being made and her part in things had dwindled down to nothing, Teresa had been reminded of their inequality. He had great power in the world, and she had none. He had taken over all the helping. She had stood back and watched and remembered times when she’d been helpless. She’d hated that. And the truth of their differences didn’t change because he was a good person.

  Must she stop seeing the Earl of Macklin now? Because it hurt too much? If she asked him to stop visiting the theater workshop, he would want to know why. Her spirit cried out against such a loss.

  Again, Eliza looked in from the kitchen. “Are you sure I can’t fetch anything at all for you, ma’am?” she said.

  “No thank you, Eliza.” Perhaps she should leave London, Teresa thought, but she couldn’t think where she would go. And she didn’t want to.

  “There’s nothing like a nice cup of tea,” said the maid.

  “Not right now.”

  Eliza went out, looking over her shoulder as if hoping for a different answer.

  The knock on the door was unexpected. Teresa rose in response even as Eliza returned and went to open it.

  The Earl of Macklin stood on her doorstop. Teresa couldn’t pretend not to see him. She was perfectly visible.

  “I beg your pardon for calling without warning,” he said. “I have something particular to say to you.”

  She could only invite him in. “Some tea after all, Eliza,” she said.

  The maid eyed their noble visitor with frank curiosity as she left.

  “Has something gone wrong with our plans?” Teresa asked.

  “Not at all. I’m told that everything is proceeding very well at the house, though Miss Finch would be able to give you a more detailed report. I have heard that Jill is taking a position as household assistant.”

  “Assistant?”

  “She did not wish to be called a maid.”

  Teresa had to smile. She indicated the sofa as she returned to her chair. He sat down opposite her, looking uncharacteristically awkward. And like everything a woman could desire.

  Eliza returned with a tray. She must have had a kettle boiling. Teresa poured tea and offered it as the maid went out again.

  Lord Macklin set his cup down beside his seat. “I thought you might have some idea of what I’m going to say,” he said. “After all that…has passed between us.”

  The heat of their kiss was in his eyes, but that told her only of desire. She shook her head.

  “This is more difficult than I remembered.” His smile was wry. “But it has been rather a long time.”

  What could he be talking about?

  “Should I get down, I wonder?”

  What did he mean? Down where?

  “I think not. If I had difficulties rising from the floor…” He made a deprecating gesture.

  “Is something wrong?” asked Teresa. She’d begun to be concerned.

  “Best just to blurt it out, I suppose.” Lord Macklin sat straighter. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Teresa discovered that there could be an astonishment so great that it drove every thought, every feeling, from her mind. Estupefacta, she thought. Like a person in a fairy tale frozen by a magician’s spell. She blinked, parted her lips to respond, produced nothing.

  The earl’s brows drew together. “Señora Alvarez?”

  She found her breath, drew it in, let it out.

  “Teresa?”

  She had to speak. Of course she could. “You would ask me this?” she managed. In another sort of world, she might have been waiting and longing for his offer, she realized.

  “I have done so.” He looked uneasy.

  “But I have told you about my life.” A surge of elation shot through her, to join the furor of emotion upsetting her inner balance. That he would ask! He cared enough, respected her enough. But that didn’t change the facts.

  The earl nodded. “You have.”

  “So you know that this is impossible. It cannot be.”

  “Why not?”

  “Have I not caused enough scandal for you?”

  “Apparently not,” he said with a smile.

  “How can you joke? I am ruined. I will never be accepted in your circles.”

  He shrugged.

  Teresa was bewildered by his nonchalance. He was not stupid. “Alessandro Peron is not the only one who will remember me,” she went on. “If I drew such attention…” A wedding to an English earl would bring all eyes to bear on her. There would be a flood of inquiries, all the scrutiny she’d taken pains to avoid. The Spanish embassy, the haut ton, the distant remains of her family perhaps! They had been happy for her to disappear. “Others will spread their stories. Society will think you mad.”

  Astonishingly, Lord Macklin laughed. “You know, I find I don’t care in the least. Until quite recently I lived a very conventional life, you know. And much of it was pleasant. Even wonderful.” He shook his head. “But lately, I’ve changed. I went wandering around the country. I visited near-strangers without invitation, stuck my nose into their private affairs, ignored the proprieties more than once. And I have been happier than ever before. Society can go hang for all I care.”

  Did he really compare these trivial transgressions to the step he was proposing? “Marriage to an…outcast is completely different.”

  “You are no such thing!”

  Perhaps he really did not understand. He had always been respected, even revered, by the people surrounding him. And they would not cut him off completely if he did this thing. He was a man. He would still be received. “They will whisper behind your back. Point you out and pity you.” She had fe
lt the cut of those superior looks.

  “Let them, if they are so small-minded. I shall enjoy my life as I choose. Do you like the country?”

  “What has that to do with…”

  “Of course you do. You are very fond of gardens. I remember. Those about my country house are extensive. You may do whatever you like with them.”

  Eliza came in with a plate of tea cakes. She wanted to know what was happening, Teresa thought, and it was difficult to hear from the kitchen. They were silent as she slowly set the plate down and went out.

  “What about your family?” Teresa asked then, speaking more quietly. “Your children would not stand for this.”

  He shrugged. “I think they will be glad to hear that I’ve found a…dear companion. At Christmas, I seemed to get hints that they would prefer not to be my sole reliance. They are much occupied with their own families now, you know.”

  “That doesn’t mean they want you to marry someone like me!”

  “Well, I am putting my own happiness first in this case. They will adjust.”

  “Lord Macklin…”

  “Won’t you call me Arthur?”

  “No, I will not.” The man did not seem to be paying attention.

  “I would be so happy if you would.”

  “Will you listen?”

  “I have listened. You have not said anything to the point.”

  “The point is that I won’t ruin your life,” Teresa declared.

  “You will only do that by refusing me. I love you, you know. I seem to have forgotten to say that.” He looked rueful. “It has been a long time since I made an offer. And I’ve only done it once before. I hope you will make allowances. I love you with all my heart. You are everything I admire, and desire, in a woman.”

  The elation shook her again.

  “I had thought that perhaps you felt something for me,” he added.

  He said it humbly, hopefully. Teresa felt as if her heart would break. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “On the contrary. It is critical. You have talked about me, and my life. Well, that is my concern. Let me decide. But you must tell me how you feel, what you want.”

  “No,” she said.

  “You won’t tell me?”

  “We must stop this.”

  “Or do you say that you care nothing for me and do not wish to be my wife?” He actually looked anxious. “Can you say so?”

  “I don’t…” She tried to force out the words. But she couldn’t lie to him. Of course she cared. She loved him. Couldn’t he see that this was the reason she must refuse? He didn’t really want to be notorious. He wasn’t that sort of person. He was upright and sociable, the soul of honor. He would see that she was right when he had time to think.

  “Teresa, do you say you do not care for me?” His face showed that he was growing hopeful. He reached for her hand.

  She pulled it away. “Too much to let you do this.”

  “Me again. What of you? Would you throw away the chance at happiness? I don’t wish to brag, but I have a good deal to offer.”

  Only everything, Teresa thought. And she had nothing to give him but trouble. But she wanted him so much. If they could avoid the censorious gaze of society… “I would be your mistress,” she said.

  “What?”

  “You could visit me here.” Some of the neighbors would frown, but many in this part of London would not care. She would not, of course, take any of his money. “We could have…”

  “You want me to behave like the man in Spain who treated you so shabbily?” He was scowling at her.

  “This is nothing like that.”

  “Is it not? I can’t see a great deal of difference.” She realized that he was furious. “You think I am such a man, that I would put you in that position?”

  “We could be together without causing a great scandal.”

  “Because I am a nobleman, and I can have a mistress, and no one will care.”

  His eyes burned into hers. He looked magnificent. She wanted him as she had never wanted anything else in her life.

  “Haven’t you shown me the inequities of this? Haven’t we worked together to combat some of the unfairness?”

  She couldn’t deny it. Yet this remained the way of the world. “I will not be the instrument of your ruin.”

  “But I am to be yours?”

  “I’m already ruined.”

  “Will you stop saying this? The past is irrelevant!”

  “You may believe that is true,” said Teresa. “But you have no idea what disgrace really means.”

  He seemed to struggle with his temper. She thought perhaps he lost, because he sprang up, clapped his hat on his head and stalked out. Teresa realized that she’d been holding her breath. She released it. In relief, she told herself. Not despair.

  Eliza came out of the kitchen. She stood before Teresa, frowning.

  Of course she had managed to overhear. Parts of the conversation at least. It was inevitable in this tiny house, even if she hadn’t tried. Which she had. “Yes, Eliza?”

  “I don’t understand,” said the maid. “Mebbe I didn’t catch it all… Did you really say no to marrying Lord Macklin, ma’am?”

  Teresa could only manage a nod.

  “But he’s an earl!” Her maid looked bewildered. “You’d be a grand lady and have gowns and carriages and anything you wanted. A big house. More than one, I expect. Would you take me along if you go? I can be a proper housemaid. I promise I can!”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Eliza.”

  She clearly could not comprehend this decision. “There’d be a load of others above me, I know,” said the girl. “But that doesn’t matter. I can learn. I’d like to.”

  “We are not going anywhere,” Teresa repeated. “I said no. The matter is closed.”

  Eliza stared at her as if she had well and truly lost her mind.

  Teresa went up to her room to wrestle with the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. She would not cry! But of course she did.

  * * *

  Arthur walked. He was unaware of where he was walking for quite some time as he struggled with anger and disappointment and outrage. He was still arguing with the señora in his mind.

  No.

  Teresa, he was going to think of her as Teresa from now on, he decided. She couldn’t prevent that! At least it was a real name. Wasn’t it? He didn’t even know that for sure. He ground his teeth.

  He went over the visit, wondering what he could have done or said to change the outcome. Nothing! She’d been blindly stubborn and unfair. She hadn’t really listened to him. She just refused and refused until she decided to insult him by classing him with that blackguard who’d mistreated her. By God, he was nothing like that wretched man! How could she imagine… She’d practically offered him a slip on the shoulder!

  A harsh laugh escaped him. There could be no other woman like her in the world. He loved everything about her—except her ridiculous reasons for refusing to marry him. She thought they were telling, yes. He saw that. But he did not agree.

  Arthur looked around and found that he’d reached familiar precincts. He was not too far from home. He turned toward it.

  An acquaintance passed and greeted him with a nod and a touch to his hat brim. Arthur strove for his habitual calm as he returned the salutation. And in that commonplace moment, it occurred to him that Teresa must care a great deal for him. She would never have offered to return to the position she’d hated in Spain, of her own free will, for anything less than…love?

  The relief that coursed through him then nearly tripped him up. She loved him! She wanted him so much she was willing to offer this! Rather than plodding along the pavement, he suddenly felt as if he was floating.

  Then he came back down to Earth. If she truly loved him, why not just marry him? Couldn
’t she see… But she couldn’t. Arthur stood still as things she’d told him, reactions he’d observed, a whole panoply that made up her point of view came together in his mind. It was like turning from a panoramic view and finding a chasm inches from one’s toes.

  This fear she had of ruining him was ground into her soul. She’d been a sheltered girl, reeling from the murders of her family, when that thrice-damned blackguard had taken her. He’d played on her grief and terror, made her plight seem worse than it was perhaps. Yet it was true that there was no human creature more easily disgraced than an unprotected young lady, as society saw things. The strictures that hemmed them round!

  But he was a mature man with a prominent position in the world, and a peer to boot. It was not fair, but he was not nearly so easy to ruin. Nearly impossible in fact. What could the gossips do to him? They might titter and whisper, but he would still be among them. His life would be comfortable and effective even with a scandalous wife. And if people tried to snub her, he would make them sorry. He’d enjoy it! Arthur imagined crushing the pretentions of anyone who offered to snub Teresa. If one had position and power one could…

  He felt a brush of shame. That would be acting like the kind of nobleman she despised. He would not do it. He wanted to make her proud.

  People were glancing at him as they passed, wondering why he was standing stock-still on the cobbles. Arthur started walking again. And thinking. Teresa was transfixed by this idea of ruin. She thought he would feel it as keenly as she had, when it came to him. But he wouldn’t. And it wouldn’t. How could he convince her of this?

  His love was not a woman to be talked around. He knew that. So, it would have to be actions. He would have to show her. First, that he meant what he said; he didn’t care two pins about the opinion of society. And second, that their pointing fingers would not have the same effect on the Earl of Macklin.

  But how to show her? What could he do? He was ready for anything. She’d made a tremendous sacrifice when she suggested being his mistress. He could do no less. He was ready to offer up his dignity, his social prominence, for her. Arthur walked faster and racked his brain.

  The silly pranks of society’s young bloods would not do. If he began boxing the watch or downing tumblers of blue ruin or racing his curricle through the London streets, society would merely think he was growing senile. And those sorts of antics were not enough. Most laughed at them. They certainly did not rise to the level of ruin as Teresa would see it. At the other end of the spectrum, the behavior of scum like Lord Simon Farange was out of the question, obviously. What lay between these two? And had he actually never tried to plan a bit of public mischief before?