“But who you doing all that for, ya eejit? Because if it’s just for you and you alone, then that’s the saddest thing I ever did hear.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Re-read Much Ado About Nothing yesterday to reignite my waned enthusiasm for romance and to remind myself that not all men put their own selfish needs and desires first. Benedick, where are you? I am in dire need of a good man who loves nothing in the world as well as me…
—from the diary of Miss Venus Merriwell, aged 19
Diana had turned up unexpectedly straight after breakfast the next morning, with little snoozing Gethin swaddled in a blanket, so Vee did not mind delaying her trip to the orphanage for an hour so that she could steal a cuddle. Now that both her sisters were married, it was rare that it was just the three of them anymore.
“I’ve warned Giles that unless I get two entirely uninterrupted hours of peace and freedom from his fussing today, I am going to divorce him.” Diana took the cup of tea Minerva poured with a long-suffering sigh. “I am heartily sick and tired of being wrapped in cotton wool. I had a baby, not an aneurism.”
“But in his poor, besotted head, youmighthave had an aneurism, and that is enough to panic him.” Minerva could not hide her amusement at her middle sister’s devoted husband. “Hugh was the same when both of our boys were born. It will pass.”
“Well, it’s not passing quickly enough.” Diana had never hadmuch in the way of patience. “I wouldn’t mind betting he’s still outside pacing the pavement, in case I take a turn.”
“Would you rather an indifferent husband and father?” Minerva settled back on the sofa with her own tea. “I sincerely doubt ours would have curtailed his own entertainments for any of our births nor cared about how they affected our poor mother.”
Diana huffed. “I suppose you make a valid point.”
“He loves you.” Vee couldn’t help but be envious of that. “More than anything else in the world.” As Diana huffed again, she rolled her eyes. “And you love him, so stop complaining.”
Her middle sister smiled. The smug smile of a woman completely content with her lot. “I didn’t come here for logic, Vee, I came here for sympathy. Where’s Olivia? She would sympathize with my insufferable plight.”
Minerva pulled a face. “Torturing poor Payne and the cook with all her plans for tomorrow’s festive feast. Apparently, we are now having seven courses, and all the staff are currently on the cusp of mutinying. I couldn’t be more delighted that you reached the end of your tether with all Giles’s fussing, as otherwise I’d be roped into all the preparations, too.”
“Do not worry, my dear, you soon will be.” With her customary impeccable timing, Olivia sailed through the door taking absolutely no offense at her daughter-in-law’s reluctance to be of service. “Just as soon as we’ve all finished our tea.” With an unenthusiastic roll of her eyes Minerva poured her a cup, too, while the indomitable matriarch cooed over the baby in Vee’s arms. “What gossip have I missed?”
“Diana was bemoaning Giles’s over-attentiveness because she is apparently sick and tired of being utterly adored.” Which was ironic when Vee had never had the good fortune to experience that joy.
She had only ever been desired on the most base and superficial of levels. Mostly for her bosoms. Bosoms that Galahad clearly also had a penchant for, likely more confirmation that he was just as superficial and selfish as all the other unworthy men she had a talent for attracting.And likely further proof, if proof were needed, that her foolish, befuddled heart was barking up the wrong tree yet again.
His stormy eyes had unmistakably darkened with desire again last night. However, it was the rest of the storminess within those hypnotic green irises that she still couldn’t decipher—or at least trust herself to read correctly. Had there really been longing and regret swirling amid the desire last night as he had bid her goodbye—as she had desperately wanted there to be—or had she, the world’s worst judge of a man’s character, imagined it? Imagined it because she had needed to see her own confused feelings mirrored in his gaze so very badly?
She didn’t know and, worse, after going to The Den in search of some answers, had left managing to be more confused about him than she had been when she’d arrived.
That it hadn’t been anywhere near as bad a place as she’d imagined had surprised her. How he had behaved there had surprised her more. She had barely recognized the Galahad Sinclair who’d stood like the king of the castle behind that bar. The Galahad of The Den had been charming still, exaggerating that beguiling accent of his every time he spoke, but was also undoubtedly in charge. There had been an air of gravitas surrounding him that she had never witnessed before, and he wielded that quiet power to keep everyone and everything in check.
To be confronted by yet another façade had been unsettling, making her wonder exactly how many he could conjure at will to hide behind, and which of the many versions of himself was the truth. Or were all of them in some way a piece of the puzzle? A part of the whole or just more showmanship?
What was undeniable was that everyone there, paid or paying, obviously respected him. His staff were positively gushing about him as an employer. While she knew talk was cheap, and those employees might not have dared say otherwise for fear of repercussions, the fact that most of them had worked for Galahad for years suggested that he was a decent master. People did not stay long in poorly paid jobs wherethey were ill treated. They sought greener grass the second they spied some. That was a fact.
But it was also a fact that he kept people at arm’s length. Back in Brighton, Nelly had called him cryptic. Last night, when she had probed, Muldoon had said much the same. Galahad liked to keep himself to himself, he had explained when she’d tried to understand why he had lied to her face, and the rest of the family’s, to get out of Christmas. The Irishman had concluded—after confessing that he had no family, that The Den was usually as silent as the grave on Christmas Day, so he had no clue why his employer had claimed otherwise—that Galahad was one of life’s loners.
While that struck her as sad, it was the way he had been with Billy that disconcerted her the most. Entrusting the boy with money after all that he had done had touched her; witnessing Billy’s stunned transformation from the unexpected responsibility given so generously had touched her more. The poor thing had carried that cash out of the taproom with total concentration and reverence, yet with a fresh spring in his usually world-weary step. As if he had been entrusted with guarding the holy grail rather than a few pounds. The pride on his little face when he had returned and handed Galahad back the key as if the man before him was suddenly his hero, and the way he had blossomed and instantly stood taller when that hero had casually patted him on the back… Well, that had been quite something.
But was it a glimpse of the real Galahad or yet another façade? An unconscious, genuine act of kindness or a calculated gesture used simply to win her around to his way of thinking because he had noticed she was watching?
She didn’t know, and therefore wasn’t yet ready to trust the voice in her head that was now recklessly cheering for Galahad all the way alongside the one in her heart that had been rooting for him all along. Leaving her still wounded and wary but so conflicted she could not stop thinking about it. Which of the many incarnations of Galahad was thereal one? And was it possible that one of them felt more for her than just desire?
“Giles is a prince among men, and princes are always annoying.” Olivia smiled at Diana in sympathy. “Probably because the admirable traits we cannot help but fall in love with are the same traits that also grate the most. For me it is Jeremiah’s stubbornness. When that man digs his heels in, there is no moving him. He is intractable.”
Vee couldn’t help but laugh. “The phrase about people in glass houses springs to mind.”
“Undoubtedly. We are alike on that score, and I never could have been happy with a man who allowed me to get away with murder.” Olivia blew on her tea with a naughty glint in her eye, entirely comfortable with who she was. “Mr. Peabody is a constant, stubborn challenge who keeps me on my toes—but he is also stubbornly loyal. Stubbornly noble. Stubbornly kind. Stubbornly stubborn for stubbornness’s sake because he knows that I am a better person for it. I knew he wasthe onethe first time we locked horns, and we’ve never spent a night apart since.”
“For me, it was Giles’s intrinsic selflessness. In everything, but most especially when he stupidly put himself between me and a bullet.” Now Diana was sighing wistfully, too. “All entirely unnecessary, of course, and a totally idiotic solution to a perfectly simple problem, but still… That was such a grand and thoughtful gesture, I couldn’t ignore it—although I tried.” She took a pensive sip of her tea. “It was important to be sure he was worth it.”
After a lifetime of disappointment, that was a sentiment Vee now shared.
