Liberty for Paul (15 page)

Liberty felt numb. Lucy claimed Seth wasn’t Paul’s and she honestly believed her. But was it possible the whole area believed Mrs. Whitaker? There was only one way to find out. “Lucy, has your aunt really told everyone?”

“Yes,” Lucy said. “Personally, I’m rather surprised you hadn’t heard this already. Now that I think about it though, I shouldn’t be surprised. If you’d known, surely you wouldn’t have been so accepting of Seth. I just assumed you knew the whole truth…”

“I do now, thank you,” she said sincerely.

“You’re welcome. I just hope you won’t hold it against Seth and me,” Lucy said timidly.

“No, not at all,” Liberty assured her. “I would be proud to call you a friend. As a friend, I must be honest with you, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to continue to come here or not. Please don’t take it personally.”

“Of course not,” Lucy said with a smile.

Liberty had a lot to contemplate on the way home. A lot of new developments had come to light today. She’d learned Paul truly did have a good heart. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have stood up to his brother or stayed in a tree house during a storm with a scared girl. Nor would he have found her work after she’d rejected him. He’d practically done the same with her. How many times had she treated him poorly, only to have him turn around and pretend it never happened? He’d never tried to seek retaliation on her for all the things she’d done to him. And she knew better than anyone she’d given him plenty of reasons to.

She shook her head. He was a good man. A good man that found himself in a lot of bad situations, that is. How could she help him? He’d never ask for her help, and he probably didn’t want it. But he deserved it. It was the least she could do for him. What could she do to help him gain his credibility back with his congregation? There weren’t very many of them as it was. Probably because a majority of them no longer attended due to the rumors. Tomorrow was her day with Elizabeth, she would ask her opinion. Elizabeth wasn’t a stranger to gossip, she’d have good advice, Liberty was sure of it.

Chapter 18

Paul tried his best to avoid Liberty over the past week. He’d spent more time locked in his room or study than was good for a body. But it was the only way he could avoid her. After she’d leave to go do whatever she did for the day, he’d emerge, go take care of errands, and then go fishing until it was time for dinner. Fishing seemed to be the only thing these days to take his mind off his troubles. Out by the creek he could toss his fly into the water and worry about nothing but if a fish would bite or not.

There was a slight tug on his line. He set the hook and reeled in his catch. Taking a minute to admire the beauty of the fish and remove the hook, he knelt by the water and let the fish go. He glanced at the sky and figured it was time to go back in. He still lacked a working watch, so he wasn’t positive, but he didn’t want to be late and make Liberty wait for him again. She’d be furious. He smiled. Maybe he should toss his line out again. He still hadn’t been able to break down that line of defense she’d put in place since they married, not that he’d been trying this past week. He’d hoped if he backed off she’d come around.

Grabbing his gear so not to agitate Her Majesty, Queen Liberty Grimes, Paul walked back to the house to wash up before dinner. He changed quickly and was walking to the dining room when he heard voices coming from his open study.

“So you’re my brother’s wife?” he heard Sam say to Liberty who had her hands behind her back.

“That’s correct,” she returned stiffly, not meeting his eyes.

Paul couldn’t figure out why she seemed so rigid. He thought he was the only one to provoke such an emotion in her.

“I must say I’m not surprised,” Sam said, shaking his head.

Liberty looked like she wanted to chew him up and spit him out. “What is that supposed to mean, Lord Bonnington?” Her voice sounded strained, almost like she was trying to keep a tight rein on her true emotions.

“Nothing,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s just you’re rather homely, that’s all. But I wouldn’t expect anything less from Paul. He never could get a pretty girl,” Sam added with a jeering laugh.

Paul wanted to vault in the room and punch his brother for his rude remark, but before he could move, Liberty put him in his place. “There’s more to a woman than her looks. Perhaps you’d know that if you did your thinking with the head that’s attached to your shoulders.”

Paul fought the impulse to laugh. He’d never imagined she was capable of saying such a thing, much less think it. For a girl who didn’t even know what a man’s privates were called only a few weeks ago, she surely surprised him with that remark. Although, it shouldn’t have. Last spring, she made a comment to him using the word bullocks. At the time, and still, he just assumed she’d overhead a man use the word, and didn’t know what it actually meant or implied. But where had she picked up the words she just said to Sam, he wondered with a frown. He’d have to ask her tonight when he went to her room.

“Is that the way of it, then,” Sam replied with a sneer. “Are you just some common whore he knocked up and felt obligated to marry?”

Liberty gasped as Paul rushed into the room. “That’s enough!” he shouted to his brother. “That was uncalled for. Apologize to Liberty, now,” he demanded, completely forgetting to address her formally.

Sam laughed. “I see you didn’t deny the charge,” he said, glancing at Liberty’s ample bosom.

“You know as well as I do that it’s false. If I wouldn’t have a whore when I was sixteen, what makes you think I would have one now? Now apologize,” Paul demanded, shooting Liberty an apologetic look for what he’d just revealed.

His brother shook his head. “From what I understand the problem lay with you that night, brother.”

Paul ground his teeth. “Perhaps so. Unlike you, bawdy house diseases don’t exactly get me in the mood.”

Sam shrugged. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

Turning to his wife, Paul said, “Perhaps you’d be more comfortable waiting in the dining room.” He noticed she looked past his shoulder as she nodded. After she was gone, he crossed his arms and looked his older brother straight in the eye. “Why are you here? What do you want from me now?”

“Is that how you greet family these days?” Sam asked with a sneer.

“No. Only you. But then again, since you’re the only family, close or otherwise, I’ve got that’s alive, then I guess the answer would be yes,” he said mockingly.

“That woman must be good in the dark if you married her. I couldn’t imagine leaving a single bedroom candle burning,” he said with a shudder. His smile disappeared and his head snapped hard to the right as Paul’s fist connected with his jaw, sending a loud cracking noise echoing through the air.

“That’s my wife you’re talking about,” Paul barked. “You may be my brother and share the same blood, but I have more loyalty to a snake than I do to you.”

Sam rubbed his red and swelling jaw. Then he brought his hand away from the side of his face and looked at the blood from his busted lip that was now on his fingers. He wiped them on his shirt while curling his bleeding lip inside his mouth and sucking off the fresh blood. “I see you still have a stake lodged permanently in your arse. Very well. I shall be on my way,” his brother said tersely before stalking out of the room and presumably out of the house.

Paul raked his hand through his hair, ruining the brushing job he’d just done in his room. He walked to the dining room and sat in his place at the far end of the table. To his mind the seat was far too distant from his wife. Especially tonight. “I’m sorry, Lib—Mrs. Grimes. My brother is…er…I really don’t know how to describe him. He’s not a very good man. Please don’t take offense to what he said about you.”

She stared at her plate. “Please, let’s not talk about it,” she said softly.

“Very well,” he agreed. Perhaps tonight when he read her book he could explain that he didn’t find her unattractive.

The rest of the meal was quieter than normal. Liberty stared at her plate; and try as he might, there was nothing he could think of to say to her.

After dinner was finished, Paul grabbed Liberty’s wrist as she was walking by him to leave the room. “Are you ready for me to read your entries now or do you need more time?”

“I’m almost ready,” she said evenly. “I was working on it in your study when your brother arrived. I just need another couple of minutes, please.”

Paul nodded. “If you don’t mind, I’ll work on some papers for a bit in there while you finish up.”

Together, they walked to his study. Like every other day, he was rather curious about her entries. He’d known she’d make up wild stories when he gave her the book. He’d have been disappointed if she didn’t. If she didn’t like to act like herself in real life, at least she could on paper, even if that meant fabricating fictitious scenarios and trying to pass them off as truth. He shook his head. Some of the stories were so ridiculous even his wild imagination couldn’t have thought up. Mrs. Whitaker wouldn’t be mending a pair of her husband’s drawers at the sewing circle if her life depended on it. Nor would Andrew’s mother tell her about the trials of diapering little boys. Now that he thought about it, that one wasn’t so far-fetched. He may only know a little about Elizabeth, but he knew enough to know she’d talk of just about anything. However, the one about strange bodily noises and corresponding smells emanating from Mrs. Baker’s pew at church last week was doubtful—but humorous all the same. Perhaps one day she’d learn it took much less time and energy to write a simple, true sentence than it did to concoct a wild tale.

As usual, Paul removed his coat, cravat, waistcoat, and unbuttoned a few buttons before he sat down and dug out one of the notebooks he used to write down his sermon ideas. He knew Liberty probably disapproved of his habit of discarding half his clothes after dinner, but she’d never voiced her complaint. Even if she had, he wouldn’t have stopped. He figured life was too short to be formal all the time, especially when he was by himself in his own study.

He sat in his chair and tried to stay focused on what he was doing and let Liberty finish her work. His eyes wouldn’t behave and more than once he caught himself watching Liberty as she wrote. Sam was wrong. She wasn’t homely in the least. She may not be as gorgeous as some, but she was still pretty in her own regard. She normally wore her hair in the same bun she wore now, but he’d seen it down when he’d brought her water in the morning. Her hair was long and flowing, with slight waves. When she was relaxed her face looked sweet, almost fragile even. Her lips were full and when she smiled, they curved up in a way sent an uneasy tendril of warmth spinning in his stomach. Despite her slightly crooked teeth, her true smile was breathtaking. It lit her eyes, and changed her face in a way that made it impossible for him to look away.

“I’m done,” she said, startling him a bit.

Paul cleared his throat. “That didn’t take long.”

She shrugged. “As I said, I had been working on it when I was so rudely interrupted by your brother.”

He nodded and took the book from her hands. His eyes scanned her first entry and he felt the urge to laugh.

1. Was given an Indian name, Read-a-lot, by young Chief Learn-to-read, then watched him run around the room squawking like he was on the warpath until he shot his poor defenseless mother in order to save me.

Paul glanced up at her. She was biting her lip and looking at the bookcase beyond his left shoulder. He turned his eyes back to the paper.

2. New reading material arrived for the literacy group.

He’d been wondering when, or if, he’d see that entry. At first he thought she might come home and be mad about it. Then, when she neither tore his head off nor wrote about it, he’d assumed Mrs. Weslen had trashed the books, figuring nobody would want to learn to read from such a boring primer. He didn’t look at her again before skipping down to the number three. A few sentences were scrolled with a line scratched through them. Reading them carefully, he saw she’d written some wild tale about watching Mrs. Siddons chase a chicken around the yard until she slipped in a puddle and fell in the mud. Now
that
was a falsehood if he’d ever read one.

Looking a little further down on the page he saw she had written another number three and what she’d written brought a smile to his own face.

3. Watched from the hall as Paul punched his wretched brother in the face.

His heart squeezed in his chest. “Why did you use my Christian name?” he asked, pleased that finally, after all this time, she’d referred to him as Paul.

Flippantly, Liberty answered, “Someone told me it was rude not to call a person by what they’ve asked you to.”

Paul chuckled. “Wise person,” he mused. “Does this mean I may call you Liberty?”

She took a deep breath. He could see she was warring with the decision. “If you must,” she said at last.

“Liberty,” he said, catching her attention. “You do know why I hit him, don’t you?”

“Because he insulted you,” she said flatly.

“
No. Because he insulted
you
,” he corrected, getting up from his chair and coming to stand in front of her. He leaned back on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms casually. “Liberty, look at me. The things he said to you were purposely mean. He’s angry with me, and he said those things to get at me. Do you understand? They’re not true.”

She looked at him curiously before shaking her head. “They are true. I’m not attractive. I know that. He only spoke the truth.”

“No he didn’t,” Paul countered, his voice full of conviction. He grabbed her hands in his. “You are a very attractive woman.”

She shook her head again. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes. You. Are.” Each word its own sentence, final.

She looked at him disbelievingly. “You must be the only one to think so.”

“Who cares if I am?” he countered flippantly, then his tone turned serious, “I’m your husband. I’m the only one who matters.”

“Thank you,” she said at last after a few minutes of staring at him as if she didn’t quite believe the words that had tumbled from his mouth.

“You’re welcome. Now, on a less serious note, I have a question for you.” He looked at her to nod her agreement for him to ask his question. “Where did you learn that set down you leveled on Sam?”

Her face turned crimson. “You heard that?” she said weakly.

“Yes.”

“Oh,” she said, quickly lowering her gaze to where his hands were still holding hers. “I…um…I heard Elizabeth say something to that effect once about the man who runs the bookshop.”

“Do you know what it means?” he asked, although he could tell by the look on her face she had absolutely no idea.

Still blushing, she said, “I imagine it has to do with a man’s…” she trailed off and sent a pointed glance toward his waist. Her blush suggested she was more embarrassed to try to guess at the right term again in his presence rather than the actual topic.