Chapter 14
John could not move. The scent of her was still on him as was the gentle scent of lilac that always seemed to surround her.
The fire crackled, making the silence of her absence painfully clear.
Gone. She was gone.
What had he done?
He’d known Merry was strong. But it had never occurred to him she would embody that strength so thoroughly that she would insist she didn’t need him
He lingered alone, adrift.
Perhaps, she didn’t.
He hadn’t been needed since he was a child. He shouldn’t be surprised he wasn’t needed now. Not even to help her.
Bloody hell, he wished to rage. He wanted to riot and to be furious as he would have been years ago. Damnation, years ago, he would have gone out into the night and found some comer to beat to a pulp.
He’d never been one to drink himself into a gutter. Men died in gutters.
But now, what could he do, having given up violence?
Nothing. He could do nothing but allow her to make the choices she felt she must.
That would be harder than anything for he still felt he knew what should be done. He knew how to make her happy. Surely, he could see her, as she’d said, better than most. Who would be there to ensure her happiness?
What had she meant that, one day, he would understand?
He doubted it. Understanding of human feelings was something he only comprehended in a sort of hypothetical way. In a way he could use to manipulate those about him. But she was immune to that now.
He drew in a long breath.
In general, he didn’t like people. He didn’t admire them. He tolerated them. But as he knelt in the small study, now alone, he knew without a doubt that he liked her. He liked Merry. And thought it pained him, she was right.
Her company was now to be avoided.
At all cost. Tonight, he’d gone too far. My God, if that Scottish woman had caught them. . . He’d have been forced to offer for Merry’s hand and that was something he could never do to her.
Never.
***
Merry forced herself to walk calmly down the beautifully carved stairs and search out the library. The taper in her hand sent a skipping, scattering, gold light dancing along the grey stones.
Sleep was impossible. Being alone in her room was impossible, too. Surely, all she’d do was stare at the embroidered fabric of her bed hangings and curse fate. That is, if she made that particular attempt.
No, the only thing for it was a book.
Much to her surprise, as she headed down the wood-paneled hall, she spotted an amber glow emanating from the library.
She paused. Speaking to anyone seemed abhorrent. Yet, she wasn’t willing to turn about and face her cavernous room.
So, she trudged onward.
Andromeda sat before the fire, feet tucked up under her. A thick tome was in her graceful hands.
“Come in, lass,” she said without looking up. “Dinna linger like a Highland ghost.”
Swallowing back her feelings of disappointment that John hadn’t somehow slipped down to pace before his fire, she entered. “You are up rather late.”
“Och, I do no’ sleep particularly well. I read a good deal. Keeps the mind from wandering.”
“I confess that is why I’m here.”
Andromeda closed her book. “To keep yer brains in yer head?”
“Exactly so.”
“I recommend Byron.” She pointed to a shelf at the far end of the room lined with hundreds of books. “Silly sot, but his poems are excellent stuff. Or ye could read Radcliffe. P. Auden is marvelous, too.”
“I like Auden a great deal,” she agreed. “But, Radcliffe I think. Horror suits. I haven’t patience for anything romantic.”
Andromeda smiled sympathetically. “The bloom is off the rose.”
She hated that Andromeda had proven so thoroughly correct. “We are beyond bloom. The petals have fallen to the earth.”
“Men are all senseless.”
“I must agree.” As she walked to the stacked shelves, running her fingers along the leather bindings, she added, “I must also go. I’ve overstayed my welcome.”
“Come to stay with me and my brother, then,” Andromeda protested.
“I wish to go to London.”
Andromeda snorted. “That den of iniquity.”
“Indeed.” Meredith laughed, though she felt in little humor for it. “The Duke of Huntsdown, my benefactor, is there.”
“Ah. Well, that’s a good reason.” Andromeda placed her book reverently down beside her. “Shall I go with ye?”
“To the den of iniquity?” Meredith couldn’t help but tease.
“Hush. Who doesna love a bit of iniquity every now and again? I find I could stomach it to keep ye company on the road.” Andromeda gave her a hard look and pointed a warning finger which would leave a governess envious. “Ye canna go alone.”
“No, I suppose I can’t,” she agreed, wishing it hadn’t all gone quite so wrong. But wrong it had gone and she wasn’t going to sit about wasting time or lamenting her circumstance.
“It is most annoying to be a woman,” Andromeda said vehemently. “One has little agency. It’s loathsome to have to consider the proprieties of travel alone when unmarried.”
“Men do seem to have a much better set of circumstances given to them at birth.”
Andromeda let out a shockingly loud and derisive sound. “That is a grand understatement if ever I heard one. They’re a bunch of lucky sots.”
There was no possibility of disputing the voracity of her words. . .Though Meredith wouldn't necessarily have called John lucky. But he did have a certain type of liberty that she’d never had.
Andromeda grinned. “Let’s go at first light.”
“Your brother’s ball?” Meredith reminded.
“Och. He willna miss us,” Andromeda scoffed. “It’s for Mooreland after all and, as I said, he’ll be there but five minutes. I’ll write and explain the necessity of getting ye to London.”
Merry nodded. Anything to get her away from the man who had chipped away at her heart. She still wasn’t entirely certain how he’d done it. Really, by all rights, she should, indeed, still abhor him.
She wished she did. It would make this so much easier. But she did not. Quite the contrary. There was no disputing it.
“I feel as if I am running away,” she whispered, her heart suddenly hammering painfully in her chest.
“That’s one way of looking at it, of course.” Andromeda pushed herself away from her seat then crossed to Merry. “Ye could stay in an unfortunate situation which will likely grow worse. A tiger doesna change its stripes, lass. ’Tis an impossible thing.”
Merry swallowed and bit down on the inside of her cheek. How she longed to argue! But hadn’t she just come to the realization that she couldn’t change? That she had no desire to change? Oh, she didn’t wish to be a so full of bold desire, but her nature was her nature.
John’s was John’s and well. . . A tiger’s stripes were black, not white or blue or green.
“Think of it as running towards something,” Andromeda said gently, reaching out and gently laying her hand on Merry’s arm. “Think of it as choosing yer future rather than letting it simply befall ye.”
“I think you’ll find if you were to know my history that I do not allow things to happen to me.” She smiled ruefully, not truly wishing to think of the past. “I charge in rather recklessly, I’m afraid.”
“Better to live too much than no’ at all, I say.” Andromeda patted her arm then folded her hands before her. “Inaction will destroy us all. It nearly did me.”
Merry took those words in. As she thought on them, she understood how right they were. She could no longer do nothing. “Then let us go, as soon as the dawn comes.”
Andromeda beamed. “Wise lass. Ye willna regret it.”
Regret. No matter how hard one tried, she had a feeling that regret was simply a part of living. One could never see all the outcomes of one’s choices. So how could one prevent regret?
Quietly, she turned back to the shelves and chose a book. The leather spine sang to her the temptress song of escape from within its pages.
Without another word, she sat in the chair beside Andromeda, opened the novel and read. There would be no sleep this night. So, she happily allowed herself to disappear into another world. That was, until the light of morning dawned upon the rough roads, slipped through the window, and beckoned her to the great city of London. Away from the strangest and most compelling man of her acquaintance.
A man who had made her care about him which, of course, was the worst part of all.