Secrets of a Spinster (38 page)

It was quite revealing.

She didn’t see much of her sister, as Mary chose to spend much of her time above stairs just to be safe. But Cassie would come and remind her that there were things to do, and Mary could only wallow in her self-inflicted torment for so long. She had completed much of the packing she needed for the countryside, but since Cassie had entered into an understanding with Lieutenant Wyndham, the plans for leaving were on hold.

Cassie would undoubtedly stay now that she would be restored to her position of former glory.

Mary would leave. As soon as she could.

Eventually she would return to her normal, sensible self. She would forget everything about this season, everything she had been and become, everything that had thrilled her and hurt her. She would go back to that girl who was ignored but respected, who could do as she pleased without care, and who had a heart strong enough to withstand love and disappointment.

She would forget it all.

Except she would not, could not, forget him.

And that infuriated her.

She couldn’t sit here anymore, not today. She needed something to do. She thought about everything she could possibly do that didn’t involve going down to the kitchens and scrubbing the floors until her fingers bled, although that held a certain poetic justice in her mind.

With another groan of frustration, she realized that everything she could do had been done.

Except one.

She gasped in relief, bounded off the bed, and dashed out of the door. She was halfway down the stairs when she caught sight of her sister’s intended.

“Lieutenant Wyndham!” she called, gripping the railing as she almost tripped.

He stopped and looked up at her with a smile, completely ignoring her horrid state. “I do believe I have asked you to call me Simon, Miss Hamilton, as we are to be family.”

She smiled as she reached the bottom of the stairs and looked up at him. “My apologies, of course. Simon.”

“Yes, Mary?” he responded politely.

“Are your parents planning on hosting an engagement party or ball for you and Cassie?” she asked in a careful tone, hoping her eyes didn’t look as wild as she currently felt. “Because I would dearly love to be able to do something, and I know that there is so much to be done…”

“You are too generous, as always, Mary,” Simon gently interrupted with a smile. “My parents are not hosting a party for us, because someone else already insisted.”

Mary frowned. That was odd. Not shocking or scandalous by any stretch. But simply… odd. “Oh, really? Who?”

“Colin Gerrard.”

Mary’s jaw would have hit the floor if it could go that far. She sputtered for a few moments, then managed, “C-Colin Gerrard?”

Simon seemed to realize he had said something he shouldn’t, and his eyes immediately shifted for an escape. “Erm, yes.”

“I was not aware you were acquainted with the Gerrards so well,” she said slowly, her eyes narrowing.

“We’re not,” he fumbled. “That is to say, we were not. But recently we have…”

“How recently?” Mary interrupted, far less gentle than he had been with her. “You’ve been thought dead for weeks and you only just returned to life days ago. How have you become friends with Colin Gerrard?”

Simon’s eyes widened and he stepped back hastily. “I didn’t know this would be such a problem, Mary, I just…”

She forced herself to take a deep breath and release it slowly. “It’s not a problem,” she replied in a remarkably controlled voice. “Not at all. I’m very fond of Colin Gerrard. However, I am curious as to how the two of you have become so closely connected that he wishes to host a party for your engagement to my sister. Now, can you elaborate on that?”

The poor man struggled for words, and Mary felt the smallest bit of pity for him. Eventually, he sighed. “Colin was one of the men who was instrumental in seeing me returned to England and having the rumors of my demise quieted. He is the one who brought me to my family and then directly here to your sister.”

Mary frowned and bit her lip. “That is even odder. Colin would have no knowledge of your particular situation of late, the only person I told was…” Her stomach dropped to her knees and her eyes widened.

Simon backed up another few feet.

“Simon,” Mary said slowly, wetting her suddenly parched lips, “who told Colin Gerrard about your situation?”

“I don’t know all that transpired, Mary, believe me, and…”

“Simon.”

He winced, and released a heavy sigh. “All right, I was sworn to secrecy, but I’ll tell you, Mary, because I love your sister, and I hope to one day love you as my sister, and at this moment I am very afraid of you.” He hesitated, then shook his head on another exhale. “Colin was acting on orders of Geoffrey Harris. He organized the whole thing. He and his friends discovered what had happened, where I was, and worked with the Navy to bring me home to England swiftly. Colin wishes to host the event because it will highlight my safe return as well as thrust your sister back into the popularity she enjoyed before I left with the benefit of his approval. This, I believe, was also Harris’s doing.”

Mary couldn’t breathe. The room spun. She grabbed at his wrist to keep herself from falling.

“Mary? Are you all right?” Simon’s voice reached her ears as if from a great distance.

“Fine,” she whispered, fighting to keep a clear head and her wits about her. “Why couldn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t think that signifies.”

“Tell me,” she insisted, gipping his wrist more tightly.

He sighed and took her arm to steady her. “Because Harris didn’t want anyone to think he had done this for any personal reasons. I could tell Cassandra, but no one else, not even you.”

“Not me?” She looked up at him in confusion. “Why not me?”

“From what Colin told me, you and Harris had only just made peace with each other. He didn’t want you to think he did this to improve his standing or to put you in his debt or anything of the sort. He just wanted…”

“To make Cassie happy,” Mary murmured.

Simon nodded once, watching her carefully.

“He’s a good man,” she forced herself to admit, feeling as though her words were ripped form her.

“The best,” Simon agreed. He had the decency to sound reluctant as he said it, and he kept his hold on her firm.

She couldn’t hate Geoff. It wasn’t in her. She loved him, and that was his fault. He made her love him, and she hated him for it. Even when she was hurt and furious with him, he did something to make her love him even more.

It was the most infuriating thing about him.

She wouldn’t let him do this to her.

She nodded at Simon and quickly made her way past him.

“Mary? Where are you going?” he called after her, sounding more than a little worried.

“The kitchens!” she replied in a tense voice. “I feel the need to scrub some floors.”

The urge to scrub floors had only lasted a few minutes. The cook, a dear sweet woman who was Irish by nature and had the temper to match, had quickly and most emphatically sent Mary from the kitchens with screeches of dismay that could be heard up and down the streets of the neighborhood. Mary had tried to protest her case, but her words fell on deaf ears. Only on her exit from the kitchen did she notice the scandalized expression on the kitchen staff’s faces. Surely it was not so shocking that she wanted to work her fingers to the bone out of frustration over a man who simply refused to get out of her head and heart.

Then again…

She set her jaw determinedly and moved on to the housekeeper’s closet and began working at polishing the silver. She had seen Winston and Mrs. Evansdale do this for years, surely this was something she could manage without offending anyone.

It was an oddly soothing task. The harder she rubbed at the silver, the sooner its surface gleamed in the afternoon light. She imagined doing the same thing to her soul, rubbing at the stained and tarnished parts that kept her from shining the way she had once done. She imagined scrubbing Geoffrey out of her mind, forcing away all thoughts of his smile and the warmth of his smile, forever erasing the need to find him first when she entered a room or the jump her heart made when he called on her. She was a pathetic creature and he had done that to her.

She muttered angrily as she replaced the spoons moved on to candlesticks, rubbing at them with just as much determination. He would not get the best of her; he would be gone from her heart and her mind. He could be as good a man as ever lived, and probably was, her softer side interjected, but that did not mean she had to worship the ground upon which he walked.

If only that ground didn’t call to her as a paradise in the desert to a wanderer.

A brief growl escaped her as she rubbed harder at the candlestick.

How dare he make such declarations to a strange woman when he made her feel this way. How dare he!

A distressed screech met her ears and she turned to find Mrs. Evansdale staring at her in horror, her plump hands clasping over her mouth, and Winston by her side, composed but for his eyes, which blinked slowly in disbelief.

That was it, then. Mary sighed and handed the candlestick over to Mrs. Evansdale and made for her room without protest. It was the one place she was of use to anybody anymore. Or at the very least it was the one place she could go without making any trouble.

After nearly half an hour of attempting to read, fix her hair, organize her wardrobe, and sort her personal library, she had to admit that she was absolutely useless to everybody, including herself. She could go call on Kate. She was growing large with her first child and could probably use some cheering up.

That would not be wise, she reconsidered. She had no cheer to spread, and Kate would become a victim of hearing all of her troubles, which would lead to her wanting to fix them, which would only depress Mary further as she knew there was no hope for her.

She flopped herself back onto her bed and tossed an arm over her eyes with a moan. She had never been so miserable in her life. How did a man turn a sensible woman into a weeping mess of feelings, and when the tears had run dry, into an angry collection of nonsensical thoughts and wild emotional bursts? Her heart felt stretched and overworked, and she feared it was headed for the all-consuming numbness her sister had spoken of only days ago.

Perhaps her life wouldn’t seem such a mess at that point.

Rapid knocks suddenly sounded at the door.

“Who is it?” Mary called, not moving an inch.

“Mary, open up.”

She moved her arm quickly and looked at the door in disbelief. That was Geoff’s voice. At her door. Ordering her. She scowled and replaced her arm. “Go away.”

“No.”

“I am not receiving. Go home.”

“No, Mary. Open the door.”

“How many times do I have to say no for you to understand that I don’t want to see you?”

“As many as you feel like saying. I’m not leaving until I see you.”

“Fine. Stand there all day. Stand there all week, I don’t care.”

“Mary, don’t be an idiot.”

She barked a laugh. “You are the one ordering me to let you into my bedchamber after I have repeatedly refused. Who is the idiot here?”

She heard him shuffle and exhale sharply. “Mary, I won’t ask again.”

She snorted and shook her head. She would not say another word. He could demand all he liked, she would remain firm and resolute.

He knocked more loudly. “Mary, I’m serious. You have to talk to me.”

She did not have to do any such thing. She settled herself more completely onto her bed, smirking in satisfaction.

His knocks became a pounding. “Mary! You have been avoiding me for three days, I will not be ignored any longer!”

She rolled onto her side, facing the wall. She would be strong. She would be indifferent. She shut her eyes tightly as a protection against his words.

“I will break down this door.”

Her eyes snapped open. He what?

“I will count to three, Mary, and if you do not let me in, I will come in on my own. One.”

She rolled over and looked at the door in horror.