Page 17 of A Lady's Wager
“I will ensure she does it,” Melinda said with a conspiratorial raise of her brow. “I’ll make sure Grandfather extends an invitation to Kirkby.”
Corah laughed inwardly. She had already secured plenty of invitations for him and Mrs. Stewart. But the fact that Melinda had covered for her, even helped her, made her want to hug her cousin tightly.
When the other young ladies rose to inspect one of Miss Whiting’s drawings, Melinda threw her a grin. “I had to repay you for the song.”
“Wish me luck. I’m already dreading it.” She tried to keep her face impassive, but a smile threatened.
Melinda elbowed her. “You’ve been spending too much time with the lieutenant. When did you become such a tease?” Then she rose to join the others, leaving Corah alone to revel in her good fortune. Perhaps she shouldn’t criticize these wagers so much. In truth, they’d only given her more opportunity to admire the blue eyes and boyish grin of a certain handsome lieutenant.
Derrick lifted his fingers from the keys of the pianoforte, letting the final notes of the melody ring in the silence of the drawing room. Across from him, his hostess took another sip of her glass of port and nodded her head.
“It’s a pity Miss Bradford wasn’t here to listen to that.” She twirled the deep red liquid in her glass. All propriety when in company, Mrs. Stewart had her quirks she let slip in the comfort of her home. Such as drinking port wine after dinner like a man but from the comfort of her sofa rather than the dining room table.
He laughed. “She’d have run, for sure. I know her to have excellent skills in music.” Not that he’d heard her sing anything except “Little Bingo.” “I, on the other hand, am mediocre at best. And terribly in need of practice.” Years of playing as a child at Grandmother’s request had been difficult to continue at sea. Pianofortes weren’t generally afforded space on ships of the line.
“Well, I liked it. And I have a feeling so would she.”
Firelight painted the sheets of music on the instrument a golden orange, contrasting with the darkness of the rest of the room. With no visitors or invitations that evening, Mrs. Stewart hadn’t bothered to light more candles.
“You like her.”
Derrick lifted his head. “Like whom?” He’d hardly admitted as much to himself. Not in so direct a way. It should have been clear. She was all he could think about in Newport, no matter how hard he tried. He’d stayed away as long as he could, but like a compass’s arrow always striving to point north, he could not turn his heart from pointing to her.
Mrs. Stewart raised a brow. “Do not fool with me.”
He sighed and picked up his glass from the pianoforte. “France declared war on England last week. I’ll be called up shortly.” Days. Perhaps weeks.
“What has that to do with whether or not you like Miss Bradford?”
That had everything to do with it. Because the prospect of going to sea after months ashore should have excited him, but now it left his stomach sinking each time he heard a knock on the front door. “I don’t have much time left in Bristol. What does it matter if I like her or not?”
Mrs. Stewart gave an unladylike snort. “And no one has ever formed an engagement before going to sea.”
Derrick rose from the stool at the pianoforte and wandered toward the hearth, Miss Bradford’s smile filling his vision in painful clarity. “And if I do not return for years? How can I ask her to wait that long? She needs stability. A home. Her grandfather will not be around forever, and she has a very young brother and sister to care for.” Saying it aloud made the ache inside him pulse, thrumming through him until he could hardly focus on anything else.
“I am hearing that you do like her.”
Exasperating woman. Derrick leaned his back against the wall beside the fireplace and threw up one arm. “Yes! Yes, I do like her. More than any girl I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. I’ve never allowed myself to think about a future with anyone else. Every time I think about what’s to come…somehow she’s alwaysthere, ready to tease me for my ridiculousness or offer a word of comfort.” Derrick wasn’t the romantic sort. Why had he started dreaming when he came to Bristol? Dreaming of quaint country houses with views of the ocean, filled with giggling little voices and the light in Corah Bradford’s hazel eyes.
“Heaven have mercy, that’s more than like.” Mrs. Stewart set her glass on a side table. “I’ve watched you in the weeks since you returned from Newport. You both seem so happy when you’re together and distracted when you aren’t.”
“I believe we have you to thank for all the opportunities of meeting.” Despite the weight on his chest, Derrick grinned. “We’ve been together nearly every evening.”
Mrs. Stewart waved a hand. “I cannot take all the credit. Mr. Colston has done his fair share.”
Derrick had difficulty swallowing his sip of port. “Mr. Colston?” The man didn’t seem to like him at all, rarely saying much and speaking with cool authority when he did. Mr. Colston must have received misinformation about Derrick’s situation. Why would a gentleman of affluence want such a position for his beloved granddaughter?
“The young woman hasn’t expressed interest in a single gentleman in three years. I can assure you, he is positively giddy that she has finally shown more than mere interest in someone. Especially someone with some wealth and a distinguished rank.” She slowly rose from the sofa. “You do not give yourself enough credit, Derrick. You’ve more to recommend you than just a handsome face and a uniform.”
He didn’t know how to respond to that, but it added fuel to the fire of hope he’d tried to stamp out for weeks.
“If he has no qualms and neither does she, you’ll find a way.” She covered a yawn behind her hand. “I am off to bed, or I’ll be dozing at Mr. Colston’s table tomorrow night. Try not to let your thoughts keep you up too late.”
Derrick couldn’t promise that. One moment his heart soared higher than topgallants, and the next it pulled at him, heavy as ballast. He’d decided that afternoon of playing the Game of Human Life that they’d simply enjoy what time they had together. No thought of what would happen later. He’d overstepped the bounds of that decision.
He drained the last of the port, staring about the dark room. A reckless desire welled up, urging him to throw his worries to the wind and set a straight course for Corah. He wanted to let go, to let himself fall headfirst into loving her with all he had to give. But it couldn’t be that easy. Life had never seen fit to bestow on him the simple path toward gaining the things he longed for.
MELINDA KNELT ON THE SEATby the drawing room window, pressing her face against the glass. Beyond her, sun peeked through clouds that splattered the sky.
