The crushing weight of disappointment was unlike anything Gerald had ever experienced before.
Where he had previously been alone in his little house at the end of the row, he was now lonely – perhaps the natural consequence of standing up in a room against several angry family members to ask for permission to court a beautiful and paradoxical woman, just to have her walk out of the room without a word.
He had not even made it through the hallway. Seated slumped against a wall, painful cravat untied and now twisted about his fingers, Gerald stared at the opposite wall.
Despondency could not possibly cover the emotions he felt. Was he so self-absorbed that he just assumed Mariana would be interested in knowing him better? Was he so proud and self-important that he believed anyone would be wanting to receive his address?
Surely history had taught him better. Why, he had lived and worked – served, even – the people of Houston for almost a decade when they had turned against him. Had he not learned enough of human nature in that terrifying night, bundling his most prized possessions into a bag while the mob around him shouted and threatened, to see optimism in people rarely rewarded?
Something hurt. His fingers; he had wrapped the silken cravat too tightly around two of them on his right hand, and they had gone white.
Gerald unwrapped them as he tried to unwrap the hurt and confusion overwhelming his reason.
Was he a man who thought every woman he met should simply acquiesce to his hopes? He prodded his inner emotions carefully, almost frightened of what he would find there. No: he was no brute who sought to demand affection, even from a woman who had claimed his own already.
Was he a man to force his opinion on another? No, and he was more certain on this point. It had enraged him, seeing his own father beat his mother for disobeying the smallest command, or even the commands that had not been spoken but, somehow, she should have known.
Gerald shivered. No. He was no such man.
So why did he feel . . . betrayed? Betrayed not by Mariana, but by his own hopes. They had led him further down a path than they had any right to, and now his disappointment was so acute it had become a physical ache in his stomach.
Perhaps this was to be the sum of his experience with love. Gerald smiled sadly as he thought the word. Perhaps a woman like Mariana Bryant was just too good for him; too precious, too priceless. If he closed his eyes, it was almost as though he could hear her voice . . .
“Doctor Anderson?”
It was amazing, the power of the imagination, Gerald mused as he sat with his eyes closed, replaying the way her voice spoke his name.
“Doctor Anderson?”
All he had to do now was comprehend exactly how he was going to stay living here, in Sweet Grove, seeing her almost every day without losing his heart to her completely.
“Gerald, are you in there?”
Gerald Anderson’s eyes snapped open. His imagination was not that good. Another knock on the door and he scrambled to his feet, ignoring the unbuttoned waistcoat and the discarded cravat.
The door was flung open, and there, in the moonlight, stood Mariana Bryant.
“Ah,” she said softly. “You are in, then.”
Gerald’s mouth fell open, and it took several seconds for him to remember she would not be able to see this and would be waiting for him to reply.
“Yes,” he said unnecessarily. “Yes, I am.”
After a moment’s pause, Mariana said with a wry smile, “May I also come in?”
“Come in?” Gerald stared at her wide-eyed, and then backed away to allow her through. “Yes, yes, of course – please, be my guest.”
Stupid thing to say, he berated himself silently. Her family owns this house, you idiot! And yet she did not know it well; instinctively, she put her hand out and he took it, guiding her through the hallway and into the kitchen, where she stood, hands now clasped before her.
“I expect,” she said quietly, “you are wondering why I am here.”
Gerald laughed shortly as he moved around the kitchen, lighting a few candles. “Yes. I cannot begin to describe how surprised I am to see you here. I had thought . . . well, I had thought your actions had made it abundantly clear you were not interested in seeing me.”
“Seeing you?”
Cursing inwardly at his own stupidity, he said quickly, “Courting you, I mean.”
A faint blush spread over Mariana’s cheeks, but she did not move, nor shy away from him. “I wanted to apologize, Doc – Gerald.”
This was such a surprising sentiment for her to express, Gerald almost tripped over the edge of the table in his haste to move back towards her. “Apologize? What on earth for?”
“I did not want Thomas’ interference,” she said quietly. “Had I known you were going to come to the house for such an errand, I would have spoken to him first, and as soon as he gave his permission, it was all very . . . very real.”
She swallowed nervously, and Gerald could not look at her without compassion. “This is new to me, too,” he said quietly. “Despite my advanced age – I am almost six and thirty – I have never courted a young lady before. I have never met anyone who has interested me more than yourself.”
It was strange, revealing this to her in his kitchen past ten o’clock in the evening. It was strange having anyone here past ten o’clock in the evening, let alone a woman. Suddenly struck by the impropriety of it all, especially considering his recent argument with her own twin brother about his suitability as a partner, he spoke hurriedly.
“And you must be off home, Mariana, it would not do for Thomas – nor any of your family, in all truth – to find you here.”
Mariana nodded, but instead of taking a step towards the door to the hall, she took a step towards him. “You intrigue me, Doctor Gerald Anderson.”
Gerald felt his heart start to pound. “Intrigue you?”
She nodded for a second time. “The medical profession is one I loathe, and yet you… you are different. You are not like other doctors. You have not the same arrogance nor belief in your own perfection.”
He laughed darkly. “No; no, I have lived too long to believe that.”
“But I do not want Thomas to – to have control over me. And so I do not know whether this is an…” And here she hesitated. “An opportunity that it is right to pursue.”
Mariana had no preconceptions about what she expected Gerald Anderson to do after her statement, but she certainly had not expected this: his arms were suddenly around her, and his lips were on hers.
And she was spiraling, the world was spinning around her out of control, and everything was this moment, and nothing else existed, and she was she and he was him and there was nothing else compared to this moment.
The moment was over before it had really begun.
“I am not going to apologize for that,” came the deep whisper from Gerald, his breath warm on her cheek. “For I do not regret it, and I cannot lie and say it felt wrong.”
Mariana’s head was still spinning as he released her, and she felt for a moment as though she was going to physically fall. “Regret it?” she whispered. “How could one regret something utterly perfect?”
The nerves she had felt on leaving Thomas and Katherine’s home, sneaking out while Sophia had claimed the attention of the group, were nothing to this.
“I could never have predicted such a response,” she said, her voice slightly stronger now.
Gerald’s laugh echoed softly round the room. “Neither could I.”
There was a moment of silence, and yet Mariana had never experienced one so devoid of awkwardness or expectation.
“You intrigue me,” repeated Mariana, the phrase that had spurred Gerald into the kiss, and felt a little shame and thrill of delight at the hope that it would do so again. “And for that reason, I . . . I would very much like to be courted by you.”
“I think we must accept,” Gerald replied, “there is an attraction between us even we cannot explain, and I would like to spend the greater portion of my time exploring it.”