A Wedding In Springtime(91)

They needed to get her out of the house. He felt for the banister. “Stairs,” he whispered back to her. Softly they crept down the stairs and turned toward the entrance to the garden. They were almost to the door when a light glowed in the corridor from an approaching scullery maid.

Grant grabbed Genie and whisked her into the open door of his study, flattening her against the wall in the dark so as not to be seen. She was warm, and despite everything, his body responded to hers immediately. He wanted to take her back upstairs and keep her forever. He was disgusted with himself. He wanted to kiss her right now. What was wrong with him?

The light grew brighter and he sank deeper into the shadow. The scullery maid came into view carrying a pail in one hand and a candle in the other. He held his breath. If they were caught now, there was nothing he could say to explain it, and the rumor would spread across London before the morning papers arrived on his stoop.

He pressed against Genie, back into the shadows, so close he could feel her heart race, fast and angry. He had hurt her. It was not a thing that could be forgiven. He only hoped he would be given a chance to make it right. He wanted to talk to her, to apologize, but this was not the time.

The light dimmed as the maid went up the stairs. Did she really get up this early to light the fire in his grate? Remarkable.

He took up Genie’s hand again and made their way into his garden and then through the rusty gate into the Bremerton garden. Close to the door of the house, he stopped. He should not go in, that much he knew.

“Mr. Grant, I must speak to you about our agreement,” whispered Genie, her face pale like marble in the moonlight.

Grant winced. Agreement? What had he done? “Genie, this is my fault, mine entirely. I accept full responsibility for it. Please forgive my imprudent words of an arrangement between us. It was foolish and I regret it more than I can express.”

“But last night we talked about—”

“Forget last night!” His whispered words were harsh even to his own ears. “Pretend last night never happened. Go to bed, go to sleep, and pretend it was all a bad dream. Tomorrow—”

Light shone in the window and Grant plunged to the ground scrambling out of view. Retreating the way he came, hidden by the dense foliage, he watched to ensure Genie made it back to the house. The person with the light was there when she entered the house. He hoped she would have the good sense to make up a plausible excuse.

***

“Good morning, miss,” said the maid as Genie walked into the house. The surprise in her eyes was clear. Genie needed to give her an explanation.

I was visiting Mr. Grant, where I was ruined and tossed out like refuse.

“I could not sleep, so I sat in the garden awhile,” said Genie in a dull tone. She wished she could go to sleep and wake up at home, this entire visit to London nothing but a bad dream.

“Are you well, miss?” The young maid’s face revealed concern, not censure.

“Yes.” Genie paused and shook her head. “No, not really.”

“Pardon me saying, miss, but all the staff think Mr. Blakely is a wretched man and you’re best without him.”

“It is most certain that I will do without the man.”

“My mum says men ain’t naught but lying bastards.” The maid averted her eyes to the floor. “Pardon me saying so, miss.”

“Quite right,” said Genie, standing taller. “I believe your mother had the right of it.”

***

Genie cried until the tears stopped. Not that she was no longer miserable, but eventually the tears dry up and you must move on. Her maid thought her red, swollen eyes were due to the loss of Mr. Blakely. Genie did not bother to correct the assumption. She washed in cold water, trying to erase the memory of Grant. All she accomplished was to make herself dreadfully chilled, inside and out.

Men were wretched. Brothers, however, still needed to be tended. Especially George, who was still only a child in a grown body. He must be protected so he could grow to improve the lot of mankind. Surely he would never treat a lady in such a manner.

She met with George early in the morning and gave him every shilling she had along with a promise that she had found a way to get the money. She secured his promise not to do anything until the next day. He was sporting a black eye and a swollen jaw. He had tried to earn his fortune through boxing but failed.

There was only one card left to play. The moneylender. Genie walked to the breakfast room with heavy feet. She knew she must be hungry, but the food turned her stomach.