Page 11 of Bluebell’s Fate

Nathaniel watched him go with a heavy helping of wonder and no small amount of regret. If only Nathaniel could spend an hour with this child, he would likely be far more prepared to care for his future wife. He still had difficulty believing that a seven-year-old behaved so much like a high-bred gentleman. When Nathaniel was seven, he was still running around the estate, climbing fences, and getting holes in his clothes while he tried to escape the machinations of his brother and his cousin, Ian. He’d be surprised if this boy had ever acted like a child.

“He is right, you know,” Lord Gardner said. “He knows Bluebell better than anyone in this house. He spends all his free time at her side. Her leaving us will be a hit to him that he doesn’t even understand.”

“I truly am sorry, my lord. I wish I could explain what happened in those woods, but I do want you to know that I am a gentleman. I never meant to involve your daughter, or anyone else, in a compromising situation.” He shook his head. It sounded too ridiculous to mention that the woods might be to blame.

The earl entwined his fingers together in front of him on the table. “You are not the first person that has been unable to explain what happens in those woods. But the woods have always been kind to Bluebell. I gave her those woods, partially because I didn’t want the responsibility of the trouble that came with them. I am choosing to hope that they might have had a larger plan in mind for her when you entered them.”

The hair on Nathaniel’s arms stood on end. So, Bluebell’s father understood, to an extent, that those woods were not natural. Did the gentleman believe in fairies as well? As much as Nathaniel wanted to argue the point, it would do no good in this instance. It was obvious Bluebell got her creative mind from her father. “I hope you are correct, my lord.” Nathaniel shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Might I request a private audience with your daughter before I take my leave in the morning?”

“You may.” Lord Gardner rose from his seat. “Would you like to meet with her in my study or out on the balcony?”

“Where would she be most comfortable?”

He chuckled. “You will soon learn that Bluebell is most content when she is out of doors.”

Chapter Seven

Bell wasn’t sure which of her two options was less desirable, staying in the drawing room where her mother glared daggers at her and flung an occasional diatribe her way, or going out to the balcony where Mr. Payne awaited to speak with her. The man had all but ignored her during dinner, not that she blamed him. Her mother’s seating arrangement wasn’t precisely helpful in the matter. Besides, what was he to say?

Her father proffered his hand to help her to her feet. It wasn’t as if she could avoid this meeting altogether. Best to be done with it now. She racked her brain for a heroine to take upon herself. Rose would never have gotten herself into this situation in the first place; Bell would need to look for someone else. What would her godmother do right now? She took a deep breath as she walked down the corridor. Her godmother would sweep her into a hug and tell her just how unique she was. She would shower her with words that Bell would write upon her heart to buoy her up. But then, she would sit and listen to everything Bell had to say like it was the most important thing in the world.

That wouldn’t do either. Wrapping Mr. Payne into a hug would definitely not be the right way to face this. The very idea of his arms around her again made Bell angry. How had she been so foolish as to let a rake like him touch her? All she could do was listen to him–—at a safe distance, of course.

Bell clutched her father’s arm as he opened the door to the balcony. The crisp spring breeze laced through Bell’s lungs, infusing her with a steadiness she did not expect. She pulled her shawl tight and stepped out into the fading pink light.

“I’ll be in my study, Bluebell,” her father said before he turned and motioned to Mr. Payne, standing next to a potted fern.

Bell’s stomach flipped over. Mr. Payne looked all too calm about this situation. It was unnerving, really, to have this man look at her with kindness but not passion after the kiss they had shared in her woods. How many women had he kissed to learn that level of disinterest in her? She looked down at the marbled stone beneath her feet and waited. It was his request that she join him, so she would wait to hear what it was he had to say.

Mr. Payne took a step toward her, and she flinched. He stopped and released a short breath. “Lady Bluebell, I wanted to apologize for the situation we find ourselves in.” He took another step toward her, slower this time.

Bell nodded her acknowledgement even as she felt tears prick the backs of her eyes. It was a miracle she had kept them at bay during dinner, but without the critical eyes of her mother upon her, Bell was bound to cry again.

“Your father has shown me great mercy not to call me out for being alone with you today.”

Was that all he had to say? That he was sorry for their situation and that he was grateful to still be alive? True, those were both valid points, but it didn’t even come close to what Bell had expected—no, needed—to hear. Until that moment, she didn’t even know what it was. But a clarity came to her mind as if she’d been trying to see underwater. Which she had, in a way—at least that was what all the crying had felt like.

She needed to know that this man would try to make their marriage work, that he would respect and cherish her, and that even a small part of their short encounter had affected him in a positive way. She wasn’t delirious enough to believe that he would claim to love her. Frustration welled up inside her chest. She clenched her fists behind her skirts and tried to keep the emotion from flowing from her lips, but the action proved insufficient. “You’re right, he has shown you great mercy. However, I would not expect as much from the fairies.”

He closed his eyes as if he were praying for patience. “Is there anything I can do to appease these invisible fairies?” His obvious disbelief in the magic of her woods was enough for Bell to want to push him from the balcony.

She pondered what the fairies would require at his hand for all the liberties he’d taken in those woods. She could only hope for one thing. “Did you hear any bells while in the woods, Mr. Payne?”

He cast his eyes downward for a few moments. “No, I don’t recall hearing any bells.”

“That’s a shame.” It wouldn’t have been Bell’s fault if he’d heard his own death knell. That would have solved all their problems.

“Why is that?” He took another step closer to her.

She looked up at him and swallowed the small amount of guilt she felt. “Never mind.” There was no need to tell him she temporarily wished that he would come to an early death. And he wouldn’t believe the legends even if she did tell him. Either way, it was not a conversation she wanted to have, nor was it a charitable thought. Lavender would be ashamed of her.

“Well then, since you have no ideas of how to make the fairies happy, perhaps you could tell me something that would appease you?” His eyes searched hers, and she ducked her chin.

“I am not typically difficult to please, Mr. Payne.” That much was true. Bell was easily entertained by the stories that ran rampant inside her own mind. Would those stories be the same when she was living in an unfamiliar home, and without her beloved woods? No, they couldn’t be.

Mr. Payne reached out and took her hand in his. An unexpected buzzing instantly began coursing between them. “Please call me Nathaniel. I know that nothing is right, currently. I hardly know what to think about this entire day. But I feel confident that we can make this work.”

“I’m sure you are right.” What else could she say? Nothing. And it was at least one of the things Bell had hoped to hear from him. Although he was talking to her, Bell felt that his words were meant mostly for himself, as if he were trying to convince himself that he could fix this problem like glue fixed a child’s toy.