Page 12 of Bluebell’s Fate

He dropped her hand and the buzzing sensation stopped.

This was not at all how Bell had imagined her life would go. She’d dreamed her courtship would include heroic deeds and end in an everlasting love. Instead, she was facing a tragedy worthy of Shakespeare. How many days had she spent wandering her beloved woods, imagining being chased by animals or thieves only to be saved by a handsome gentleman atop a fine horse with a saber to protect her? What would her stories consist of now?

Nathaniel paced away from her, back and forth, with his eyes on the ground. “It is like you are a different woman altogether than the one I met in the woods. You are still the most beautiful creature I’ve ever beheld, but…everything else is wrong.”

Bell raised her chin. Was her beauty really the only thing that he could compliment about her? Everything else about her was wrong? Did she have no personality? Or was her personality wrong?

She’d thought him quite dashing, and a bit prideful, when they’d met. But he’d also been strong-willed and self-assured and purposeful, even if he was determined to try to find his own way out of the woods. In truth, if they hadn’t been discovered, Mr. Payne would have become that hero in her stories. The man that stole her heart and protected her from the creatures of the dark.

In all of her stories, Bell had never questioned that she was not the right fit. That she was wrong for the hero. She was not perfect, like a rose, after all. She’d never aspired to that. She was a wild bluebell, free to roam and imagine—but she was not cultivated for a gentleman. Her mother’s training the past two years had begun too late. Turning on her heel, Bell walked slowly to the doorway. Her heart shattered into a thousand tiny fragments as Bell was reminded once again that she was not what she should be. She turned her head and watched Nathaniel pace back and forth one more time as he ran a hand through his light brown hair. And then she left with full knowledge that her betrothed didn’t even notice.

Chapter Eight

When the sun finally emerged over the horizon, Nathaniel had already been on the road for an hour. Why delay his departure when he had been lying awake, trying in vain to recall when it was that Lady Bluebell had left him on the balcony? Why spend his time in that overly extravagant guest room when he could be on his way toward keeping his appointment with his grandmother? It was the first step in his plan for the next three weeks. He had the interim until the banns were read each Sunday to make things right.

His temples throbbed as if he were being hit like a drum each time the carriage jostled over a rut in the road. The light from the day grew brighter, and the throbbing turned into pounding that made the entirety of his head heavy. It occurred to him that he should have traveled through the night. Then he wouldn’t have had to deal with the shafts of light that made his head attempt to split in two.

Nathaniel took out his pocket notebook and looked over his list for the day:

Fetch Grandmother.

Apologize profusely for my delay.

Tell her I am engaged to Lady Bluebell Gardner. Apologize again.

Begin our journey to London, rest in Paulton, and put up for the night at the Rose and Crown in Greenridge.

Gather any information Grandmother might have about Bluebell or the family.

It was an odd list for him, but the satisfaction that came with a well thought-through list remained, nonetheless. Nathaniel typically had a good idea of what his plans would result in. Working with numbers and facts made it easy to predict the outcomes. If he put extra financing toward fixing the roofs of his tenants’ homes, he would save time and money in the long run. He always tried to make decisions logically, taking into consideration both long-term and short-term effects. This line of thinking had served him well.

Impulsivity was bound to lead to errors—like kissing strangers in the woods. He did not look forward to the repercussions of that choice. There was no energy left inside his mind to make a real plan for taking care of a wife that was not Miss Stone. He pulled the curtains closed, laid his pounding head back on the seat of the carriage, and begged sleep to take him.

Some time later, the sound of muted voices pulled Nathaniel from his repose. He squinted his eyes and opened them slowly so as not to be blinded by the sun slanting in through the crack in the curtains. He stretched his arms above his head and craned his neck from side to side. His rest had done little by way of curing his headache.

A curt, formal voice sounded as soon as the carriage stopped, and the door opened. “She’s not happy.” His aunt’s butler, Williams, had always been a bit stuffy, but Nathaniel had the distinct impression that the simple phrase, She’s not happy, was an understatement. His aunt was never happy when Nathaniel visited, even if it was to do her a favor and pick up his grandmother.

Nathaniel rubbed a hand down his face and then replaced his hat atop his head, wincing at the pressure it added to the incessant pounding in his temples. He stepped down to face the butler. “Good day to you too, Williams. Would you please take me to my grandmother?”

A slight tick in the butler’s jaw was the only indication that the man was holding back his emotions, like a proper butler. He bowed slightly. “This way, Mr. Payne.”

As Nathaniel walked up the crumbling stone steps of the house, he took note of the worn path and similarly aging home he was entering. It had been years since Nathaniel had come to visit, and the change was pronounced. Perhaps his aunt’s finances made it necessary to reduce staff. Was that why the butler was also out in the yard, welcoming guests before they entered the house? If only his aunt would allow Nathaniel to help her with her books, he was certain that she could live more comfortably. However, she never voiced any interest in the improvement of the building itself, and neither did her son, Ian, who’d decided to take up residence in London permanently. Grandmother Hamilton often complained of Ian’s negligence. He never checked in on the family home, and so never sent funds to see to its upkeep. It was one of the reasons Nathaniel had never liked his cousin. For a son to leave his mother with as little as possible to get by, as Ian did, was extremely selfish and neglectful.

He heard his aunt’s nasally voice echo through the entry. He cringed. Tones like that were not going to help Nathaniel with his infernal headache. “You cannot possibly think this is a good idea, Mother. To travel with only your lady’s maid would be a scandal.”

“I am seventy years old, my dear. I deserve a good scandal at this point. Besides, who would care about an elderly widow enough to gossip about her?” His grandmother’s calm voice was light but firm.

Nathaniel stepped into the room before Williams could announce him. “There’s no need for scandal, Grandmother. I am here.”

The butler turned heel and left him with the women.

His grandmother looked him over with an assessing eye. “I do hope you are well enough to travel, my boy. I have an appointment I cannot miss.”

Nathaniel swallowed. It didn’t matter that his head was likely to explode with pressure, or that he’d been traveling for hours today as it was. This was his own fault. “My horses will need to rest for a short time, but then we may be on our way.”

His aunt skewered Nathaniel with a look of frustration before she rang the bell and called for tea to be sent in. The look reminded Nathaniel forcefully of his mother.

His grandmother patted the settee next to her. “Come, tell me what has kept you.”