Page 13 of Bluebell’s Fate

Suddenly, the design of his boots seemed like the most fascinating pattern in the room. He called the image of his list to his mind. “I am so sorry for not being here yesterday. I have no one to blame but myself. Please forgive my folly.”

“It’s not like you to forget an appointment, Nathaniel. It must have been quite serious.” The concern in her voice brought his eyes to her gray ones.

There was nothing for it but to push forward to the next item on his list. He cleared his throat, and his shoulders slumped against his will. “I am engaged to Lady Bluebell Gardner, daughter of Lord Gardner.”

“Bell!” his grandmother exclaimed. Her hand flew to her chest, and her gray eyes opened wide.

“You know her?” Nathaniel didn’t know if that was good or bad that his grandmother had reacted so strongly to the revelation.

His aunt scoffed and folded her arms tightly against her chest. She opened her mouth to speak, but grandmother put up a commanding hand to stop her.

Grandmother instantly wiped all hints of surprise from her face, put down her hand, and took a measured sip of her tea. “Do you?”

The heat of embarrassment crept up Nathaniel’s neck, adding to his discomfort. “Not much.” He shifted his weight back and forth at a loss of what else to say.

His aunt, nostrils flaring, pointed a finger at Nathaniel. “Her ten thousand pounds was too much temptation for you, I see. But what I don’t understand is how you managed to find her before she made it to London. My Ian has been on the lookout for her family to join the season. Not that they will now.” Her finger began to shake, and bright red splotches bloomed across her cheeks. “You’re just like your father. Was it his idea or yours to take advantage of that poor girl?”

Nathaniel rubbed his temples. What did she mean he was just like his father? It was always Edwin that had taken on that role.

Grandmother set her teacup down, glaring hard at her daughter. She stood to her full height, which was not very impressive—the top of her silver hair didn’t reach the middle of Nathaniel’s upper arm. “I know you are disappointed that Ian will not get a chance at Lady Bluebell’s dowry. But do not attack my grandson in this manner.”

His aunt put her hands on her hips. “Hardly anyone ever sees the girl, let alone spends time with her. It must have been a very low-bred move he made for the earl not to simply pay for his silence and be done with him. Not that I expected much more from him with his father as an example.”

Nathaniel’s embarrassment turned to white-hot anger. He clenched his teeth, and stood tall next to his grandmother, like comrades on a battlefield. “You’ve never liked me, or my father. Why am I not surprised that you jumped to hasty conclusions concerning both of us? It is not my fault that your son is negligent of you, nor is it my father’s fault that your husband didn’t leave you with more to live on.” He strode from the room, pausing in the doorway for only a moment. “I’m certain my horses are prepared to leave as soon as you are, Grandmother.”

How had this entire trip gone so entirely wrong? Nathaniel stomped his way toward the stables to hurry their departure. He was not normally an angry person; emotions like anger didn’t serve people well. Nor was he a person to speak his mind until he’d gone over the implications of such. He blamed his headache and his lack of a proper night’s rest for the outburst. And if he was being honest, years of barbs had gotten under his skin.

However, he ought to be allowed to speak his mind, shouldn’t he? Why was it that doing so made him feel so guilty? He hadn’t meant to ruin Bluebell Gardner, and he wasn’t even aware of her dowry until the earl had shown him the exorbitant amount. Nathaniel ran a hand through his hair and winced at the contact with his throbbing head. Was that only yesterday?

He pressed the heel of his hands into his closed eyes to block out the light. It was true that his aunt had never taken a liking to him, but he had assumed that it was due to his direct opposite nature of her son, Ian. That, and the fact that Ian had always been Edwin’s best friend growing up, until Edwin’s accident. Ian and Edwin had always been alike. Where Nathaniel was moderate, they were extreme in their views. Where Nathaniel did well in school, they spent that time flirting and making trouble. It had been years since Nathaniel had spoken with Ian—for good reason. Ian was precisely the type of man who would hunt out Lady Bluebell Gardner in order to deepen his pockets.

Perhaps it was spiteful, but for the first time, Nathaniel felt like perhaps he had done Bluebell Gardner a favor. At least now she wouldn’t have to go to London to sort through the barrel of men and try to decide who was authentic and who was not.

The carriage pulled around just before Nathaniel rounded the corner. He hopped inside and waited for his grandmother’s trunks to be loaded on the back. Nathaniel pulled out his list in frustration. Why was nothing going according to his plans? He ripped the paper in half, and then in half again. Stuffing it back into his pocket, he made a mental note to burn it at the next inn.

A footman opened the door for his grandmother to enter the carriage; she was followed by a small basket for the road from the housekeeper. Grandmother settled herself across from him with her lips in a firm line. As soon as the door closed, she leaned toward him, “How is Bell?”

Nathaniel shrugged his shoulders. What could he say? He hardly knew her.

“This is a long ride, and I am quite determined to know everything that has occurred. I advise you to start at the beginning.”

And so, Nathaniel told her everything; well, almost everything. He didn’t go into detail about what she was wearing, or that he’d kissed her quite thoroughly. It was his grandmother after all. But everything else, he spilled, like water being poured from a bucket. As he spoke to her, his headache eased, and he could feel the crushing weight lifting from his chest a little bit at a time. Grandmother always had that calming effect on him.

When the carriage pulled off the side of the road next to the woods, Nathaniel couldn’t help but fight back the panic he’d experienced when he’d been here just yesterday. His grandmother walked him into the depth of the woods, not at all concerned about getting lost. Nathaniel followed warily. He was tempted to pick another bluebell just to prove that this fairy business was ridiculous, but his grandmother had given him such an intense look of warning, he decided not to put himself in further trouble.

They came to a clearing, and Nathaniel found a table covered with a large cloth.

Grandmother put a hand to her heart. “Oh, she left me sketches. I have collected these since our second meeting.” She ran her wrinkled fingers over the parchment and smiled.

Nathaniel looked over her shoulder. Drawings of fairies were scattered across the entire surface. Each sketch captured a moment full of emotion. From hope and humor to joy and love. Despite fairies being the subject matter in each one, Nathaniel found himself drawn in. “Can I have one of these?”

“It shouldn’t be difficult for me to share one. I can always visit you and have her draw more.” His grandmother took a deep breath. “I should tell you something about Lady Bluebell.” She hesitated. “She is the woman I always hoped you would marry—the very one I’ve been telling you about these past years.”

Nathaniel’s mind raced with the revelation. Perhaps they could suit one another. His grandmother would have never set him up for failure. Of that Nathaniel was certain. In the same moment his heart lifted a fraction. He’d been regretting the idea of never meeting this mysterious woman. Now, he was engaged to her. Words failed him.

His grandmother cleared her throat. “Which one would you like?” she motioned to the sketches.

Nathaniel’s eyes roved over the sketches. There was a fairy singing to a baby, fairies pushing a carriage, a couple fairies dancing across the surface of a river, and the scenes went on and on. Lady Bluebell was extremely talented. But there was one sketch his gaze kept shifting back to: the sketch was of a girl being lifted into the air by a few fairies that held on to her sleeves. The girl’s face was one of pure delight.