A Wallflower Christmas (Wallflowers #5)(41)

“Did you show it to anyone else?” Hannah asked sharply, concerned for Rafe’s sake. These words had not been meant for anyone to read. “Any of the servants?”

“No, miss,” the girl said, her lower lip trembling.

“Heavens, Hannah,” Natalie exclaimed, “there’s no need to be so cross. I thought this would amuse you, not send you into a temper.”

“I’m not in a temper.” She was devastated, and aroused, and anguished. And most of all, confused. Hannah made her face expressionless as she continued. “But out of respect for Mr. Bowman, I don’t think this should be put on display for others’ amusement. If he is to be your husband, Natalie, you must protect his privacy.”

“I, protect him?” Natalie asked roguishly. “After reading that, I rather think I shall need protection from him.” She shook her head and laughed at Hannah’s silence. “What a spoilsport you are. Go and burn what’s left of it, if that will put you in a better mood.”

SOME MEN, RAFE REFLECTED GRIMLY, WANTED NOTHING MORE for their sons than to carry on the same life they were having.

After a long and vicious argument that morning, it had become clear to him that Thomas would not yield in any way. Rafe must step into the life that his father had planned for him and become, more or less, a reflection of Thomas Bowman. Anything less and his father would regard him as a failure, both as a son and as a man.

The argument had begun when Thomas had told Rafe that he was expected to propose to Lady Natalie by Christmas Eve. “Lord Blandford and I want to announce the betrothal of our children at the Christmas Eve ball.”

“What a wonderful idea,” Rafe had marveled sarcastically. “But I haven’t yet decided whether or not I want to marry her.”

The predictable color had begun to rise in Thomas Bowman’s face. “It’s time to make a decision. You have all the necessary information. You’ve spent enough time with her to be able to assess her qualities. She’s a daughter of the peerage. You know all the rewards that will come your way when you marry. Hell and damnation, why do you even hesitate?”

“I don’t have any feelings for her.”

“So much the better! It will be a steady marriage. It is time to take your place in the world as a man, Rafe.” Thomas had made a visible effort to control his temper as he tried to make himself understood. “Love passes. Beauty fades. Life is not a romantic romp through a meadow.”

“My God, that’s inspiring.”

“You’ve never done as I asked. You never even tried. I wanted a son who would be a help to me, who would understand the importance of what I was doing.”

“I understand that you want to build an empire,” Rafe had said quietly. “And I’ve tried to find a place for myself in your grand scheme. I could do a hell of a lot for the company, and you know it. What I don’t understand is why you want me to prove myself this way first.”

“I want you to demonstrate your commitment to me. As Matthew Swift did. He married the woman I chose for him.”

“He happened to be in love with Daisy,” Rafe snapped.

“And so could you be, with Lady Natalie. But in the end, love doesn’t matter. Men like us marry women who will either further our ambitions, or at least not hinder them. You see what a long and productive marriage your mother and I have had.”

“Thirty years,” Rafe agreed. “And you and Mother can barely stand to be in the same room together.” Sighing tautly, Rafe dragged his hand through his hair. He glanced at his father’s round, obstinate face, with its bristling mustache, and he wondered why Thomas had always been compelled to exert such relentless control over the people around him. “What’s all this for, Father? What reward do you have after all these years of building a fortune? You take no pleasure in your family. You have the temperament of a baited badgerand that’s on your good days. You don’t seem to enjoy much of anything.”

“I enjoy being Thomas Bowman.”

“I’m glad of it. But I don’t think I would enjoy it.”

Thomas stared at him for a long moment. His face softened, and for once, he spoke in a near-fatherly tone. “I’m trying to help you. I wouldn’t ask you to do something I believed to be against your own interests. My judgment about Swift and Daisy was correct, wasn’t it?”

“By some miracle of God, yes,” Rafe muttered.

“It will all get better, easier, once you start making the right choices. You must build a good life for yourself, Rafe. Take your place at the table. There is nothing wrong with Bland-ford’s daughter. Everyone wants this match. Lady Natalie has made it clear to all and sundry that she is amenable. And you led me to believe that you would go through with it as long as the girl was acceptable!”

“You’re right. At first it didn’t matter whom I married. But now I find myself unwilling to pick a wife with no more care than I would exert in choosing a pair of shoes.”

Thomas had looked exasperated. “What has changed since you arrived in England?”

Rafe didn’t answer.

“Is it that brown-haired girl?” his father prodded. “Lady Natalie’s companion?”

He looked at his father alertly. “Why do you ask?”

“It seems you’ve gone more than once to listen to her read at night to a group of children. And you care nothing for children or Christmas stories.” The heavy mustache twitched contemptuously. “She’s common, Rafe.”