Hardly A Gentleman (4 page)

“And yet, we are
not
related,” he was quick to point out. “Miss Berryton, it must be said that I… that I…”

Margaret stopped walking and turned in his direction. She had a tulip in her hand, and she was gently spinning the stem between her fingers. “Yes, Mr. Billingsley?”

“I look forward to your visits each year,” he quietly confessed. “I… anticipate your company very much.”

“It is very kind of you to say that.”

“That man… the one who broke your heart… the one who disappointed you…” Jacob swallowed so hard, Margaret could see his throat bobbing. “He was a fool to abandon you.”

“I… thank you, Mr. Billingsley.”

Margaret turned away from him and silently resumed her walk.

Neither of them uttered another word, even though both of their hearts pounded vigorously.

Twenty

“My dearest Maggie, I can hardly believe it!” Lydia’s blue eyes were bright and lively as she embraced her favorite grandchild. “On this day, seventy years ago, I was born. I have lived a very long time… and yet, nothing has ever made me happier than this.” When Lydia turned her attention to the man standing beside Margaret, she said, “If you are to marry my Maggie, Mr. Carridan, you are a very lucky man!”

“On that, we agree.” Dark-haired, dark-eyed and dimpled, Vincent Carridan took the older woman’s hand and bowed over it. “It is good to finally meet you, Mrs. Calder, and I am happy to have your blessing.”

“Such a gentleman!” Lydia observed. “And handsome, too! He seems like quite the catch, my dear.”

Smiling at her fiance, Maggie said, “Indeed. I was very fortunate to find such a flawless man.”

“Oh, I am hardly flawless!” Vincent chuckled at the thought. “We all have our faults, to be sure… except for you, Miss Berryton.
You
are the absolute essence of perfection.”

Margaret dismissed his claim with a flick of her wrist. “Oh, how you jest!”

“I am being entirely honest. If you have a flaw, I have yet to find it. You are more than an angel.”

“He seems to adore you… nearly as much as my Henry adores me, I daresay!” Lydia teased them. She pushed her spectacles to the bridge of her nose, squinted, and leaned forward in her chair, hoping to get a better look at the handsome man in front of her. Everything was foggy, but she could see him well enough. He was extraordinarily polished, with swoon-worthy dark eyes, and the most chiseled jaw she had ever seen. Her granddaughter had certainly done well for herself!

Lydia was lucky she could still see Mr. Carridan at all; her vision had been deteriorating rapidly. Now she hoped to keep her sight long enough to see Margaret’s first child. “It is so strange.”

“What is strange, Grandmother?”

“
This
. You. All of my grandchildren are getting married. It makes one feel… rather old.”

“Is Cynthia happy with her new husband?” Margaret asked. She had attempted to write to her cousin—
once
—but the letter was deliberately ignored. Margaret had hoped they could put the past to rest. The incident with Jacob Billingsley happened so long ago, after all.

“She is,” Lydia replied. “I received a letter from her quite recently, in fact.”

“And you? Are
you
happy with
your
new husband?”

“Henry is delightful, as you know. I am very fortunate he found his way back into my life, for I am certain I could not survive without him.”

“And… Mr. Billingsley?” Margaret’s heart was curiously strained when she mentioned the other man’s name. “Does he still visit you?”

“Three times a week, and sometimes more. Would you believe he is to become a vicar, like his father?”

“
Truly
?” Margaret was silent for several seconds. Somehow, she found it hard to imagine.

“I suspect it is merely an attempt to appease his father. And if you would, do not mention that to Jacob. He would not like to know I have been discussing his personal affairs.” Lydia absentmindedly squeezed and twisted a handkerchief in her hands. It was the only thing that seemed to allay the pain in her arthritic fingers. “Jacob should be joining us for supper tonight.”

“
Mr. Billingsley
? For supper?” Margaret sounded perhaps a bit too eager, which earned her a curious stare from her fiance.

“Indeed. And Henry as well. It shall be quite a memorable gathering.”

Suddenly, a small brown cat leapt onto Vincent Carridan’s lap. Although he was hardly a fan of cats, his fiance adored them, so he found the strength within himself to scratch the feline’s head.

“Look! Even Tabitha loves him!” Margaret exclaimed. “Everywhere he goes, Mr. Carridan is adored by all.”

Margaret’s claim made her fiance chuckle. “Goodness, that is hardly true!” he protested.

“No, but it
is
true! Everyone rains praise on Vincent. He could have chosen any woman to be his wife… and yet… he chose
me
. I shall never understand it. I must have had heaven’s favor.”

“Well, he
is
fiendishly handsome,” her grandmother praised him again, and at the same time, Lydia’s kitten nuzzled his wrist.

Smiling, he said, “I feel very… loved.”

“As you should!” Margaret exclaimed. “I have never met a gentleman more worthy of the praise he receives.”

“Or more worthy of affection from a cat,” Lydia added, smirking. “I do believe Tabitha has found someone she loves better than me!”

Their light repartee continued into the early hours of the evening, at which time they assembled for supper. Vincent insisted on pushing Lydia’s Bath chair into the dining room, where he was introduced to Henry Calder and Jacob Billingsley for the first time. While the older gentleman shook his hand with vigor, there was something about the young man’s demeanor that seemed a bit—cold? As soon as their eyes met, Jacob was sneering at him.

When the first course was served, Henry asked, “So, Mr. Carridan… when did you meet our lovely Miss Berryton?”

“It was—”

Margaret started to answer, but Vincent abruptly interrupted, “Three months ago, more or less. Others have called it a rushed courtship, and I politely disagree with them. As soon as I saw Maggie, I
knew
.” As he gazed at her from across the table, his eyes were plainly dripping with adoration. “I have never seen a lovelier young woman.”

“Vincent…” Warmth flooded Margaret’s cheeks—and presumably a blush—so she kept her gaze on her plate. “You are too kind.”

“It is not kindness, it is the truth. I was stunned by how beautiful she was. I still remember what she was wearing. I even remember the color of the ribbon in her hair,” he went on. “One look into her eyes, and it was as if all the breath was purged from my lungs. I was robbed of all sense. I knew I was gazing into the eyes of a goddess, and I had to make her mine.”

“How very passionate of you, Mr. Carridan!” Lydia exclaimed.

“With her sweet smile, and hair like fire, and brilliant brown eyes… I am absolutely
certain
she is the only woman I shall ever want.”

As he listened to Mr. Carridan’s overly romantic speech, Jacob brutally skewered a carrot with his fork. The act of aggression was noticed by Margaret, who had already been wondering if Jacob was vexed. She had never seen him so quiet and sullen.

“I have never known a better man than Vincent,” Margaret suddenly said.

“Apart from me, of course?” Henry suggested with a grin.

Margaret simultaneously laughed and nodded. “Indeed. Apart from you, Henry.”

Jacob gripped his fork until his knuckles turned white, until his hand was shaking.
Vincent. Henry
. The way their Christian names flowed from Margaret’s lips was irksome. Margaret Berryton had known him longer than either of them, and yet she
never
referred to him by his given name. Vincent Carridan—
the dastard
—had likely spent more time with her. Despite knowing her for three years, Jacob had spent very few days in her company. He felt horrendously slighted.

Clearly, Jacob had a unconquerable rival in Vincent Carridan. The man was too handsome for his own good, had a sizable fortune, and was likely ten years older than Jacob. How could he possibly compete with a gentleman who had so much to his advantage? Margaret was lost to him. In the course of a year, she would be the wife of the honorable Mr. Carridan. Never would she spare a thought for the silly boy who sometimes read stories to her grandmother.

After supper, the gentlemen withdrew to the parlor for cards, port wine and cigars—although Jacob refused the latter. Jacob was also terrible at bluffing, so he braced himself for the inevitable losses he would suffer at the hands of superior men.

“Mrs. Calder seems to be a very lovely lady,” Mr. Carridan politely said. “I never knew my own grandmothers… alas, they were gone before I was born. Bereft of a grandmother’s affection as I was, I never knew what I was missing. Having met Margaret’s grandmother, I now know what a terrible loss it was.”

“Mrs. Calder is a very special lady,” Jacob said. “I have known her for many years.”

“Indeed.” Mr. Carridan filled his glass to the brim, and a moment later, had drained it most impressively. “I have heard something of your history with Mrs. Calder. My fiance has had much to say about you, Mr. Billingsley.”

“Nothing terrible, I hope?”

“No. She seems to think you’re a decent sort… though I tend to form my own opinions.” Vincent was scowling at Jacob as he took a drag from his cigar.

“Jacob is a fine young man,” Henry Calder defended him. “My wife says he is the grandson she always wanted, but never had.”

“Is that so? Hmm.” For a few seconds, Vincent puffed on his cigar, making rings with his lips. “Lucky you, Mr. Billingsley.”

Jacob’s reaction was somewhat different. “I never knew she felt that way, Henry.” As he spoke, Jacob graciously bowed his head to the older gentleman. “Thank you for telling me.”

After a few rounds of cards, Henry Calder had drifted to sleep. Upon realizing this, Vincent chuckled softly. “The old lout’s slumbering. Should we wake him?”

“Let him sleep,” Jacob suggested. “We’ll wake him when we leave.”

“Then let us continue to play. I’m eager to win more of your money, lad.” Lines encompassed Vincent Carridan’s mouth as he smirked at the younger man. “You never play, I take it?”

“Not often.”

“Brilliant! The gents at the club in London are merciless. I could use an easy win, for once.” When Vincent poured another glass of port, he was ever-so-slightly intoxicated, and spilled a bit of it on the table. As he swiped it with his hand, he asked, “Is it true that you spend a great deal of time reading to the old lady?”

“I do,” Jacob confessed. “I am with her more days than I am without her.”

“That… is terribly depressing. How can you say it like it’s nothing to be ashamed of? You’re a strange young man, Jacob Billingsley.” Vincent jabbed his cigar in Jacob’s direction. “You must be driven by loneliness, no?”

“On the contrary, I am far from lonely. I enjoy Mrs. Calder’s company very much.”

“No, you
must
be lonely,” Vincent insisted. He flicked his cigar’s ashes on the table, right in front of Jacob. “What you need, Mr. Billingsley, is the company of a
woman
. A much younger woman than the old bat, of course.”

“
Old bat
?” Jacob repeated the words very sharply.

“I should take it upon myself to find you a lady,” Vincent continued. “It shan’t be difficult. The ladies usually come to me.”

Jacob’s jaw twitched as he listened to the other man’s lecture. “Is that so?”

“You’ll never be a man, boy, unless you find yourself a suitable companion. Preferably a lightskirt… much easier that way. Do you want one mistress or two?”

“None, Mr. Carridan.”

“Nonsense!” Vincent finished his port and slammed the glass on the table. “Every man needs a mistress. Between you and me, Mr. Bills-ley, I
do
have a mistress. I plan to end it with her before I marry Maggie, and that’s the truth. The honest truth.”

Jacob wondered how much of the other man’s candor had something to do with his blatant inebriation. Vincent was rather foxed, so much so that he was slurring his words. Nevertheless, Jacob was starting to form a very clear opinion of his rival: Vincent Carridan was not the right man for Margaret Berryton. Maggie deserved the best. She most certainly did
not
deserve this slovenly cad.

Vincent loosened his cravat and continued his speech. “How is it possible for a man to be with
one
woman? How can a man choose one lady for the entirety of his life? It doesn’t seem natural, does it? Surely it isn’t natural!” Vincent was groaning as he dragged his hand down the length of his face. “A lady can live forever without another man’s touch, but how can I survive without the touch of…
other
ladies?”

“Perhaps you simply aren’t ready for marriage, Mr. Carridan,” Jacob suggested hopefully. “Or perhaps you have not found the right woman for you?”

“No, Maggie
is
the right woman. She is. There’s no better girl in all the world.
I
must find it within myself to be a better man for her. She deserves nothing less.”

“On that, we agree.”

Jacob won back most of his money before the night’s end. It might have been unethical to continue betting against a man who was considerably in his cups, but after what he heard that night, Jacob did not care to play fair. His was hardly an unbiased opinion, but he had little respect for the scoundrel. In every respect, Vincent Carridan was a vile man.

A wiser man might have held his tongue, but Jacob could not. The very next day, he returned to Lydia’s estate and immediately hunted for Maggie. He found her in the garden, of all places. They seemed fated to meet in the garden. It was their place for unpleasant encounters.

“Miss Berryton.” Jacob’s throat tightened as he approached her.

“Ah! Mr. Billingsley!” Margaret waved her arm, inviting him to join her on the bench. “I hoped I would have another opportunity to speak with you. We only meet once a year, and it would be such a shame if we did not speak again.”