PUBLISHED TO YOUTUBE BY KATIE DOUGLAS ON DECEMBER 6, 2011.
I thought it might be time to delve once again into my Spotify “My Kinda Country” playlist. I mean, it has been at least a month since I last shared a country song with you. Emerson Drive is a Canadian group, and I like a lot of their music. A. Lot. (I know I have shared some of their music before, and I will probably share some in the future, too. 😉 )
When I was scrolling and listening in search of a song to pair with Mary: To Protect Her Heart, it was the title of this song that first grabbed my attention because Mary needs to learn to trust Gabe. (And then, the first few lyrics of this song… perfection.)
Growing up with the admiral was not pretty and has coloured Mary’s view of men. And, to be honest, her choice of friends up until now has not helped her with that view of men. However, Gabe it the complete opposite of the admiral and her friends, which Mary has come to know and appreciate.
The chapter below is the one where Mary finally realizes that she trusts Gabe, and it contains Gabe’s promise to her at the end that he’ll never let her “take on water.” (He was a privateer so taking on water is a significant thing to him.)
One more thing before you jump into this chapter, Mary: To Protect Her Heart is free until 11:59 PM PST today, Monday, March 30, 2020. So, if you don’t have this book yet, now is the time to get it. I’ve also got the first two books in this series (Henry: To Prove Himself Worthy and Charles: To Discover His Purpose) marked down to $0.99 until today as well.
Mary: To Protect Her Heart, Chapter 8
“You look lovely,” Gabe whispered as he and Mary approached the theatre’s entrance. “All will be well.”
He had been telling her that for the past two days – ever since Henry’s invitation to join him at the theatre had arrived during one of Gabe’s daily calls on Mary. The calls were not all made during regular calling hours. Gabe’s schedule did not always afford such luxuries, but Mary was happy to see him at any time of the day. Today, she had not seen him until now, and she had missed having him sit in the chair near the hearth, telling her about his day and inquiring after hers.
“Did you get the lace you needed?” he asked as they entered the building.
“No, Margaret and I were otherwise occupied today with a bit of knitting that the cat unravelled. We will get it tomorrow.”
“I will be unable to call tomorrow. There is still a matter to argue about concerning the new letter of marque, and then I am engaged with another matter after that.” He pulled her closer to his side as they reached the top of the stairs leading to the saloon where the private boxes were. “I will miss you.”
Mary could not help smiling and blushing at his words. He knew her for all her faults, and yet, he liked her. He did not want anything from her in return – no connections, no introductions, no forced flirting or smiles. In fact, she was quite certain if she attempted a false smile, he would frown.
“I will miss you as well,” she admitted so quietly that he had to tip his head towards her to hear it. She was finding herself very attached to him. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep the wall around her heart neatly intact.
“Here we are.” He allowed her to enter the box ahead of him. “Mr. Crawford,” he said with a smart nod of his head.
Henry returned the greeting and immediately set about making introductions. It was a small gathering of Henry’s intended, Constance Linton; his friend, Charles Edwards; and Charles’s fiancé, Evelyn Barrett.
“My brother could not be bothered to join us,” Constance said as she settled into a chair. “And my aunt is keeping Mrs. Barret company.”
“So that we can be rid of her for an evening,” Evelyn added with a smile.
Charles smiled. “I shall find the lack of glaring to be refreshing.”
Evelyn shook her head and laughed. “Mother no longer glares at you. She watches carefully, but she does not glare.”
He shrugged. “I really do not mind either a careful observation or a glare as she can do nothing to prevent us from marrying. The papers have been signed and sent from my solicitor to your father’s solicitor.”
“Charles is only partially reformed,” Henry whispered.
“I am not!” Charles cried. “I have left my dissipate ways behind, but I reserve the right to behave rakishly with my soon-to-be wife.” He placed an arm around Evelyn’s shoulders, which she swatted away.
“And this is why my mother watches closely,” she said, leaning toward Mary. “But that is enough about us. We know very little about either of you.”
Mary’s cheeks burned. “I believe you know enough about me.” Gabe took her hand. “I must apologize for the grief I had a part in creating for all of you.” She blinked rapidly. Those blasted tears were far too ready to fall, and they mustn’t.
“Miss Crawford is not who she was,” Gabe added. “She is something far better.”
Mary’s smile wavered.
Charles’s brow rose. “Time will be the proof of that, I suppose.”
Gabe shook his head. “No, she is something far better than her old scheming self now, and with time, she shall only grow better and better.” He tipped his head. “You are the fellow doing charity work, are you not?”
Charles nodded. “I have been working with some boys at Mrs. Verity’s and helping feed the hungry.”
“And informing me if he hears of anyone who is in need of a valet or footman or the like,” Evelyn added.
“How long have you been doing this?”
Charles shrugged and looked at Evelyn. “A few weeks.”
“That is not very long,” Gabe replied with a grin, “but I suppose time will prove if this interest is a lasting thing or a passing fancy, is that not right?”
Charles shook his head and laughed. “I see your point. I have very little upon which to build my argument.”
“Indeed,” Gabe replied. “Miss Crawford is not very many days into her new journey, but I, for one, expect it will be a successful one. She is a most determined sort of lady.”
Henry chuckled. “I can vouchsafe for that.”
“Henry says you are in trade, Mr. Durward,” Constance inserted, smiling at Mary, who was feeling, and likely looking, rather unsettled by the turn of the conversation.
She was delighted to hear Gabe defend her so valiantly, but it was a strange feeling and seemed out of place here where she sat with those she had offended. She deserved Mr. Edwards’s censure. Miss Linton’s compassion was not what she deserved.
“She has a good heart,” Henry whispered in his sister’s ear while Gabe told Evelyn about having a warehouse and ships. “She does not hold your actions against you.”
“How can she not?” Mary asked in surprise.
Henry shrugged. “As her brother always says, ‘A shepherd does not beat the lost lamb when it returns to him.’”
Mary’s brows rose high at such an odd statement.
“Trefor enjoys speaking in metaphors,” Henry explained. “Unusual metaphors. You were lost, much as I was.” He smiled at her. “But we are lost no longer.”
Mary returned his smile and looked at Gabe. “No, we are not.”
She had found her place in this world next to a gentleman whom she could trust and who demonstrated his belief in and care for her without apology. Moreover, she had not had to do one thing to convince him that he should attach himself to her. She laughed to herself. Mr. Durward did not strike her as the sort of man that anyone ever easily convinced to do anything if he did not wish to do it.
“Miss Crawford has visited my establishment,” Gabe said, holding Mary’s eyes with his intense gaze.
“Did you?” Evelyn asked eagerly. “I have only seen Mr. Gardiner’s warehouse and only once, and I admit I was not paying particular attention to the building.” Her cheeks coloured.
“Gardiner?” Gabe repeated.
“Yes,” Evelyn answered. “Mr. Edward Gardiner. He also provides some assistance at Mrs. Verity’s home for orphans.”
“He is a fine fellow,” Gabe said. “Runs a good business, he does.”
“It does seem to be prosperous,” Charles said.
“I can assure you it is,” Gabe replied. “He and I have made a deal or two since I arrived in London. He has a very discerning taste. You say you were at his warehouse?”
“The night Evelyn accepted my offer,” Charles replied, once again putting his arm around her shoulders.
This time, Mary noticed, Miss Barrett did not swat him away. Instead, she ducked her head and blushed.
“I was there helping him with a project to see people in need given a warm meal.”
“He runs a charity out of his warehouse?” Gabe asked.
Charles nodded as the actors began to take their places.
“Come see me at some point,” Gabe whispered. “I may be in a position to help you with that.”
“Business at the theatre?” Mary teased. “What would Mr. Bertram say?”
Gabe smiled and winked at her. “One must strike the deal wherever it presents itself.” Once again, he took her hand, and, leaning closer to her, whispered, “Do you mind?”
Mind him holding her hand? She thought not and gave his hand a squeeze as she shook her head. The warmth of his touch spread like a delicious wave through her body. It was a good thing she was familiar with this play for, with as distracting as his nearness was, she would otherwise be very confused as to whom Agatha Friburg, Fredrick, and Baron Wildenhaim were and how their lives were entangled.
~*~*~
“Shall we find some refreshment?” Gabe asked as the intermission began.
“I would like that,” Mary answered.
“And the rest of you?” Gabe said to others.
“I would like to stretch my legs,” Evelyn said.
“You do not wish to remain here with me while the others go?” Charles asked her with a teasing grin.
Apparently, Mary thought, Mr. Edwards had been honest about reserving his rakish ways for his betrothed.
“No,” Evelyn said. “I would rather walk with my hand on your arm than remain sitting here.”
“We could stand. Over there behind the curtain.”
“No dark corners, Mr. Edwards. My mother would not approve.”
“But would you?” he asked as he stood and secured her hand in the crook of his arm.
“That is not a proper thing to ask a lady.”
“Would you?” he asked again as they reached the door to their box.
“I am not completely opposed to the thought of kissing you. However, you did promise Mother that you would behave, and you know she would be told if someone were to see us. I, for one, do not wish to endure that lecture. Therefore, you will not be drawing me into any dark corners this evening, Mr. Edwards.”
The arguing over propriety by the pair in front of them continued for some distance down the saloon while Henry and Constance walked at a slow pace behind Gabe and Mary.
“Miss Crawford,” a lady in a green dress called to her.
Mary groaned. She had no desire to speak with Miss Morton, but she put on a smile and turned toward the lady.
“I have not seen you in this age,” Miss Morton cooed to Mary while allowing her eyes to roam over Gabe’s figure, smiling with approval of what she saw.
Mary bristled at the forwardness of her acquaintance.
“Sarah said you had given up polite society to take up with some tradesman,” Miss Morton said in a loud whisper. “I had thought you a fool to do so, but now, I can see why,” she once again gave Gabe an appreciative sweeping look.
Mary felt Gabe’s arm flex under her hand.
“I apologize, Miss Morton, but Lady St. James has not been completely accurate in her accounting.”
“She has not?” Miss Morton’s hand flew to her heart as her eyes grew wide.
“I am afraid she has not been, for, you see, I have not taken up with anyone from trade or otherwise. I grew weary of the constant inconstancy of our lot of supposed friends. Therefore, when I was presented with the opportunity to forge new friendships, I took it.” She smiled up at Gabe. “And it has been a wonderfully wise decision. You should try it.”
“Try what?” Miss Morton’s brow drew together. That Miss Morton had missed the point of the comment was not a shock to Mary. Miss Morton was not particularly astute.
“Finding new friends who treat you well,” Mary replied.
Miss Morton’s brow remained furrowed. “But our friends do treat us well. I am never without an invitation to one thing or another.”
“Then I am pleased for you,” Mary replied with a curtsey before Miss Morton could say more.
“She is not excessively intelligent, is she?” Gabe asked as they moved away from Miss Morton.
“She would likely stand outside and stare at a door instead of going through it if she was told it was only for going out and not coming in,” Mary replied.
Gabe chuckled and then asked her what her preferred beverage was before going to procure it.
Other than Miss Morton, no other friend approached Mary, though many were there, and it was not because they did not see her. No, they made a point of looking directly at her and then turning away.
“That was not pleasant,” Gabe said as they once again took their seats.
Mary had to agree. Being snubbed was not pleasant, but… “It was not as horrid as I thought it might be.”
“It was not?”
She shook her head. “It is likely because you were standing with me.”
“Then you have no regrets about leaving your former friends behind.”
Again, she shook her head. “Very little. I do miss the calls and invitations to some degree. Sitting at home can be dull. Margaret hosts the occasional dinner for Dr. Grant’s friends, but,” she shrugged, “it is different.”
His eyes were filled with concern.
“Do not worry,” she said. “I am content. Truly I am.”
To Mary, the remaining portion of the play was over far more quickly than she would have liked it to be. It had been a delight sitting close enough to Mr. Durward that their shoulders touched and he could discreetly hold her hand.
“You acquitted yourself very well this evening,” Gabe said as he climbed into the carriage and took the seat across from her.
Mary shook her head and laughed lightly.
“Do you not believe me?” he asked, leaning toward her as the carriage began to move.
“It is not that,” she mirrored his action and leaned toward him.
“Then what is it?” he asked.
“I do not think I shall ever get used to hearing someone speak of me as if they are proud of something I have done – something good that I have done,” she clarified. “I like it.”
“As you should,” he replied in his normal pragmatic fashion. “Trust me, it will eventually become normal.”
She smiled and looked at him for a long moment while a wonderfully frightening thought overtook her. She placed a hand on his where it lay on his knee. “I do trust you,” she said, putting her thought into words.
His replying smile was worth enduring the nervous twisting of her stomach and fluttering of her heart that had accompanied admitting something like that to him.
“I shall guard that trust with my very life,” he said, grasping her hand in his while placing his other hand on her cheek. “I will not play on it or with it as some might.”
She leaned her cheek into his hand and closed her eyes. She knew the words he spoke were true. She did not know how she knew it, but she did. It was likely because he was so unwaveringly honest with her. He had not once flattered her. He had not once attempted to goad her into praising him. And he had always treated her as if she mattered – not for her beauty but for herself.
Her eyes fluttered open as she felt his lips touch the cheek that was not cupped in his hand. His eyes questioned hers, and with a smile of happiness that spread from her lips through her heart and down to her cold toes in her boots, she gave him the permission he sought to claim her lips in a kiss that was, at the same time, both a gentle caress and a firm pledge of his loyalty.
“I’ll never let you take on water,” he murmured before, capturing her face between his hand and kissing her more ardently.
Ah, the sweet calm before the proverbial storm (aka when the author does horrible things to test that trust and nearly kills the hero). Remember, this book is free until later today and the two books before it which will introduce you to Trevor, the user of strange metaphors, and Charles, the somewhat redeemed rake, are also on sale until later today.
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That music was wonderful. I can’t believe they are from Canada. They sure sounded like they were from Nashville Tenn. Beautiful. I loved Mary’s story. I know. Who knew? I was prepared to loathe, hate, and despise her forever and you changed that. Nefarious authors… what do you do with them? Read their stories, that’s what. LOL!!
We have some very good country music groups and singer up here. But I might be partial. 😉
That sounds like a very good idea for what to do with such sneaky authors. LOL