Chapter Seventeen
I expected being a fallen woman to feel different—titillating, even.
Instead, it felt…much the same as before I’d dragged my reputation through the mud. I still worked with Mother in the hothouse, wordlessly hunched over our plants on separate sides of the workbench. Papa still regarded me with an air of disapproval for spending more time with plants than with people. The only difference was that I didn’t have to suffer visitors. I didn’t have to exhaust myself at an endless parade of social engagements.
If I hadn’t felt as though my heart had been ripped out of my chest and trampled upon, it might have been peaceful.
I didn’t hear from Julian the next day. No doubt if he presented himself at the townhouse, Papa would challenge him to a duel again. Perhaps it was for the best. I didn’t know what to say to him, even if I’d seen him. We had no future. Although I’d known as much from the start, the finality of having it confirmed left me gasping for breath.
I focused on my work and studies. My ankle didn’t thank me for standing on it all day. That evening, after a strained and silent supper, I found a book in the library and retreated to bed early. When I arrived, I found Mary sitting on my bed, swinging her legs. A lit candle rested on the nightstand, casting a glow over her bored expression.
“There you are,” she exclaimed as I stepped into the room.
I braced myself for her sharp tongue. Why was she here? I thought she wasn’t speaking to me.
She stood, propping her hands on her hips. “I hear you’ve been cast out of polite Society.”
Did she come here simply to gloat that her plan seemed to have worked for the moment? Since our invitations had been rescinded, Papa hadn’t spoken a word about sending me to a convent. Actually, he hadn’t said much to me at all.
I stepped past her to sit on the bed and toe off my slippers. “Why are you here?”
Mary snorted. “Since when have I ever been considered polite company?”
She flounced on top of the bed next to me, for all the world like we’d never fought at all. She couldn’t have forgiven me that easily, could she have? She’d been spitting mad. Not to mention, I hadn’t so much as apologized. I opened my mouth to do just that, then shut it again. Did I have anything to apologize for?
She patted my shoulder. “I must have been cast out from Society three or four times by now. It blows over. Someone else does something scandalous and then everyone will recall that your father is a baron and you’ll start receiving invitations again.”
Was that supposed to make me feel better? It would only encourage Papa. And after disgracing the family name in such a way, he would never relent on the matter. I would have to act the demure, composed baron’s daughter. Speak with whom he told me to, marry whom he chose. I didn’t want to receive any more invitations. In fact, I would be perfectly happy if Papa decided to move us back to the country until the scandal died down. Even if that would relocate me closer to Julian…and his soon-to-be wife.
Not wanting to consider watching him with his new wife, I turned to my friend. “Aren’t you angry with me?”
She shrugged. “Sure I am, but you need a friend right now. I can be angry at you again after this is done.”
I shook my head. Just like that, we were friends again? She was acting that way. “I don’t think spats are supposed to work this way. Neither of us has apologized.”
“Are you going to apologize?”
Perhaps I should. I nibbled my lower lip, still guilty over turning her down, even if she had asked too much of me. Our association would go easier if I apologized. But I always apologized, and she always dragged me along on increasingly wild escapades. Most of the time, I would prefer to be left alone with my plants. After a long moment, I answered, “No.”
I held my breath, wondering if she would call me wretched names and storm out.
She shrugged. “Then I’ll still be angry with you later.”
“But not now.”
She shook her head. “Not now. You need a friend now. A friend who understands that your reputation doesn’t define you, since you seem to have forgotten that fact. What is your reputation but the perceived personification of a select few aspects?”
I didn’t know how to answer her, so I opted for a weak smile. “Thank you. I…appreciate your friendship.”
Mary laid her hand over mine, resting on my lap. “I heard he refused to marry you.”
“Julian? I knew he wasn’t free to.” I tried to keep the disappointment from my voice. After all, I had known. I’d wanted him anyway. I still did. Even if…
If his fiancée had been anyone other than Alyssa, if he hadn’t made the promise to his brother shortly before he’d died, I might have held out a faint hope that we had a chance. Now, I had no hope. I didn’t know whether that made things better or worse.
“Then he didn’t take advantage of you? You had an understanding?”
The same question Sir Scandent had asked me, a question I had so vehemently denied. I bit my tongue to stifle a sigh. When I reined my emotions under control, I answered, “Yes, I suppose we did. He didn’t take advantage of me. I asked him…for what we had. We love each other.”
That made it worse, somehow. Knowing that he loved me back and yet neither of us could do anything to change our future.
“Then why won’t he marry you?”
“He’s already engaged.”
Mary opened her mouth, but I raised my hand to stall her outburst.
“It’s complicated, but trust me. It’s impossible. I accept that.”
I accepted it, but I didn’t like it.
For once, she didn’t try to argue with me. I leaned my head back against her shoulder and took comfort in our companionable silence. From the glimpse I got of her face, she looked pained at being unable to offer a solution. That was what Mary did. She solved problems—often causing other ones in the process, but she never gave up. She always had a way forward. Now, she seemed at a loss.
Pauline arrived in the doorway. “Mr. Beckwith is in the garden. He begs your presence.”
I straightened. He was here? Why? I turned to my friend.
She stood. “I suppose I’ve worn out my welcome if you have another visitor. I’ll see myself out. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
As she left, Pauline turned to give her a faint smile. “You two made up? I’m glad.”
I forced an echo to her smile. “Not exactly. Mary is…complicated. But we are still friends.” Bracing myself against the renewed discomfort in my ankle, I stood and crossed to her. I lowered my voice, in case others were nearby, listening. “You let Julian onto the grounds? Are you certain that’s wise?”
“I thought you’d like to speak to him, miss. Lord Valentia will never know he’s here. He doesn’t go into the garden.”
I fell into step with her as we turned toward the staircase. “No, but Mother does.”
“Last I checked, Her Ladyship was in a deep discussion with my lord.”
Most likely about me. I bit my lip. “Very well. Let’s hurry then before Julian is found out.”
The garden was dark, but Pauline fetched a light to bring with us. The evening insects buzzed around it, making her mutter under her breath and swat at them. The moment I spotted Julian’s silhouette, I paused to gather myself. At the sight of him, my stomach turned a somersault. Why did life have to be so unfair?
I swallowed hard and tried to hide how much I wished our future could be different. No matter what, I didn’t want to lose Julian as a friend. I needed him in my life in some capacity, no matter how small.
Pauline held back as I crossed the last few feet to greet him. “Julian, hello! What are you doing here?”
When he turned to me, his impatient expression turned wistful instead. Would he hug me? Kiss me? I wouldn’t turn away either one, even if it would hurt more come his wedding day.
“I have that meeting with a potential business partner. You agreed to come with me.” He hesitated. “Did you change your mind?”
“No,” I answered, perhaps a bit too fast. I didn’t want him to leave me behind. This was the first time my skills had ever been sought after in this manner. “Let me just collect Pauline and we’ll go.”
When I turned, I found that my maid wasn’t standing as far out of earshot as I’d thought. She wore a dubious expression. “If I go with you, what will happen if your parents look for you? I won’t be here to misdirect them.” She pressed her lips together. “Is this dangerous? Perhaps you ought not to go, after all. You have had a trying week.”
Not go? I didn’t give a whit for my reputation, but this was something that I was good at. This was something I wanted to do. I’d never considered leaving London and joining an expedition, but perhaps if my life was changing anyway, I should consider it. If I could prove my expertise tonight, it might be a stepping stone.
“It isn’t dangerous in the least. I wouldn’t put Francine in jeopardy, you have my word. We’re meeting with the man at an eating house. We’ll be in public the entire time,” Julian said.
That sounded innocent enough.
Pauline hedged. “Without chaperone?”
I was sick of that word. “Come with us, if you like. Stay, if you’d rather. My reputation is already in tatters. What good would a chaperone do?”
“Then you think I’ll do more good if I stay behind to field off any questions.”
She sounded just as indecisive as me. Now I understood why Mary seemed so frustrated with me at times. I made the decision for her. “Yes. Stay here. Tell my parents I’m abed with a headache. I’m going out with Julian.”
He smiled and reached out to squeeze my hand. “Thank you, Francine. You won’t regret it.”
…
No wonder men kept women away from their business deals. If women knew that men gabbed more than gossips and scarcely did any work, they would lose all respect for the enterprise. I knew I certainly did.
It didn’t help that I felt invisible. Almost from the moment Julian had introduced me to his business associate, a portly man with a ready smile named Mr. Hagen, the man had dismissed me. He spoke of politics with Julian, made crass jokes that made me blush, and plied the table with ale. I sipped watered-down wine instead, very sparingly. Over an hour passed without the man so much as glancing in my direction.
I cleared my throat. No effect. The man finished his meal and patted down his lips with his handkerchief. I squared my shoulders. I hadn’t come here to be ignored. I coughed into my fist. “I thought we were here to discuss plants.”
Mr. Hagen narrowed his eyes. “Yes, love. If you’re so eager to be gone, why don’t you give your boy a kiss and hand him over to me for a minute or two. Our business shouldn’t take long.”
I stared at the stranger. Anger heated my chest, and for a moment I feared I might erupt like Mary. Did he just refuse to talk business in front of me because I was a woman? Maybe Papa was right—botany was no profession for a woman.
I looked down, balling my fists as I gritted my teeth. No. Botany was one thing I would never give up. Certainly not over one little setback.
Seated next to me, Julian slipped his hand beneath the table and laid it atop my fists. His touch soothed me. He gave me an encouraging look, then said to the man across from us, “I value her opinion. I’d like her to stay.”
“Talking business with your woman?” Mr. Hagen scoffed. “I didn’t know you were a kept man, Mr. Beckwith.”
I caught Julian’s hand before he retracted it. He bristled next to me.
“I brought my friend because of her expertise.” He bit off his words. “If you aren’t going to treat her with respect, you can forget our business.”
Julian stood, scraping back his chair. With disappointment wriggling in my belly, I did the same. All I wanted was to talk about plants. It appeared no man would give me that opportunity. No man but Julian, at least.
Mr. Hagen made no effort to rise. He leaned back in his chair and tossed his napkin next to his plate. “Come, now. If you’re looking to impress the lady, you’re going a bit afield. It’s clear she has eyes only for you.”
Had he expected me to flirt with him? He must be near twice my age!
The deplorable businessman continued, “You won’t find a more promising enterprise than mine. I can show you a sample of the plant, if you’d like.”
I caught Julian’s sleeve before he turned away. The plant? I didn’t say a word out loud, but he knew how much I loved plants. If it was rare and he invested in the expedition, perhaps he’d let Julian keep the cutting. And by Julian, I meant me, of course.
Although Julian’s posture was stiff, he turned back to the man. “The sample. Let’s see it, then.”
Mr. Hagen dug into his pocket and produced a dried-up, wrinkled sprig of a plant. “This here’s a rare prickle, indeed. Grows only in the Far East. Chaps eat it up in the Americas and the colonies.”
Julian reached out to touch the plant, but the man drew it back. “It’s delicate, see? Best only I should touch it.” Given the way he ham-handedly handled it, the little sprig didn’t have a long life ahead.
Even in the dim light, I spotted the lie. I raised myself on tiptoe to pretend to kiss Julian’s cheek as I whispered, “Wild parsley. Common as clover. See the way the leaves curl?” My lips burned from the brush near his skin. I tried to ignore the desire that swept over me again.
We’d had our night. That’s all we could have.
Julian bared his teeth in a pale semblance of a smile. “Sounds promising.”
No, it doesn’t!
“I’ll have to talk to my wife about it.”
Mr. Hagen pressed him to invest, saying that he had many other men lined up. For their sakes, I hoped the swindler was lying. Julian deftly ignored the pressure and steered me out the door of the eating house.
When we reached the dark street outside, Julian paused. He tugged me toward the corner of the building, a bit father from the light of the streetlamp on the junction of the street two buildings down.
“The way that man treated you was unforgivable. I wouldn’t have invested with him even if it had turned out to be a promising venture.”
He leaned down and pressed his lips to my cheek. The contact was warm and altogether too brief. I swallowed and pressed my lips together before I asked him to do it again.
“Thank you, Francine. Your help was invaluable.” He stroked my cheek. “Whatever man gets the honor of marrying you, I hope he knows what a treasure he has.”
I glanced down, blinking hard before he noticed the sudden rush of tears that overcame me. “Perhaps we ought to get back.”
Marriage wasn’t in my future, and even if it was, my husband wouldn’t be Julian.