Laurie's Painter (sweet Regency romance) (18 page)

It might break something
inside her heart when he laughed with her, at the preposterous thought of their
marriage, but she would survive. She was good at surviving.

"I—" He stopped,
looking consternated, blinking once. He bit his lip, then he rushed ahead. "Jenny,
I love you. I want you to marry me." Abruptly, he dropped to one knee in
the grass, here before this ancient tree that must have seen so much. She was
fairly certain it couldn't have seen another proposal like this one: so abrupt,
so unpolished and so very unlike Laurie—and yet so full of feeling.

"Oh," said Jenny
faintly. "I—didn't think you were going to say that."

"What did you think? Do
you—do you think you can ever love me back? Will you marry me?"

"I...should love
nothing better," admitted Jenny, and despite her best efforts, she teared
up further. How could she possibly have more tears? It was ridiculous. One
should be strong. One should— "I thought you would ask me from pity, so Henry
could accept help."

"What? No!" He
was on his feet now, reaching for her hands, looking alarmed and incensed. "That
would be a wicked thing to do. I
am
fond of your brother, but I trust I
could find another way to help him that would not—that is to say...I'm sorry my
motives weren't clearer. I thought perhaps you had a hint of how I felt, but I've
been remiss. I'm sorry. I—I do, you know. Care for you. Deeply. Love you."
This awkward stream of words he cut off as he moved forward and kissed her.

She could see he was going
to, and despite her tears, did not try to move away. She wanted this deeply,
more than she could've ever voiced, and without quite understanding why. For
somehow, if he kissed her, and meant it, perhaps he could mean the rest.

Some part of her protested
it was too wonderful to be real.

But now she was wholly
taken up with his kiss. It was deeper than the other one, held a tenderness and
passion that she couldn't call anything but love. Oh, if only she'd known! And
if only they could do this every day for the rest of their lives.

They pulled back, both of
them breathless. "Well?" said Laurie. His hair stood up in disarray:
his eyes sparkled and seemed to glow with some great internal light. He looked
more like a rake than ever he had before, yet more sincere and beautiful as
well. "
Will
you marry me, Jenny?"

"Oh yes," said
Jenny. And she moved toward him to kiss him yet again.

"I am so glad," said
Laurie. "Thank you!" And he reached up to the back of her hair.

"What—what are you
doing?" His fingers felt nice, but he would—he was right now!—messing up
her hair. "You'll pull it all loose!" She reached back up to fix it,
but too late, the strands tumbled down.

"I've been wishing to
do this since I first saw you. Let it escape, dear Jenny. My dearest Jenny. It
is such beautiful hair, as free of a spirit as you are."

And he kissed her again,
and this time, she didn't try to fix her hair.

~*~

When Jenny told her
brother, he simply snorted inelegantly and said, "It's about time!" But
his smile was genuine and didn't fade for a long time.

That was the day the
doctor came to see him, and though she could see he felt the strain, Henry was
on his best behaviour. The doctor gave Henry another bottle of laudanum to use
for the pain when needed, and instructions for more of the remedy that Jenny already
gave him, as well as another remedy, and some instructions for his general care
and diet. He also confirmed that a warmer climate would do well for Henry's
health.

Henry promised he would do
his best to abide by the doctor's guidelines. Jenny felt heartened by that as
much as anything.

"He may have many
years left, if he does not give up hope and receives good food and care, and
plenty of rest," the doctor told her. "But I do recommend the move to
a warmer climate."

~*~

"Tuppence for your
thoughts," said Laurie, smiling at his bride-to-be.

Their walk in the garden
had turned to discussing where to live in the cooler months so that Henry could
stay warm. Laurie wanted to buy a place they could stay comfortably.

Their discussion started
out seriously enough, but Jenny still seemed uncomfortable with the idea of
wealth, ready to be disposed of at her suggestion. Then they'd been distracted
once or twice by pausing to kiss.

Now she stood leaning
against the tree—
the
tree now to him—looking particularly fetching. Her
long, brown hair was loose and free today, the way he liked it. She said it
made her feel hoydenish, that it was certain to get disarrayed: however, when
it actually did get disarrayed from their kissing, she didn't seem to mind too
terribly much.

But now his fiancée wore a
small frown. Why?

Certainly Laurie's mother
had not seemed surprised when he announced their engagement, with Jenny
blushing fetchingly by his side. Though his mother had said little regarding
Jenny, he'd seen the approval in her gaze when meeting and interacting with
Jenny—and now at the announcement as well. She seemed content that Jenny was a
worthy choice. Though her opposite opinion would not have dissuaded him, Laurie
was pleased his mother liked Jenny.

Now Jenny looked at him
blankly, as though she hadn't heard his question. "What?"

"Is something
troubling you?"

"Oh. I-I'm sorry."
She looked away guiltily. "We were having such a good talk, and-and that
as well," she said blushing again. "But then I started thinking of-of
the banks and I—am sorry, I let it distract me from the present."

"What about the banks?"
He reached for her hand and gave it a light squeeze. Jenny still always wore
gloves, but he hoped the day would come soon when she'd have enough confidence
to let him see her bare hands without embarrassment, without feeling ashamed of
their roughness. He thought she was beautiful whether her hands were rough or
smooth.

And of course, he had
already assured her she should paint to her heart's content. He would never
complain, and he would be certain she never ran out of painting supplies. And he'd
promised that if she wished to pursue publicity for her artworks, he would
support her there, too.

"The banks were so
wicked
,"
said Jenny with more heat than he'd ever heard from her. Her brow wrinkled in a
frown of pure wrath. "I can't believe they let my brother suffer all these
years because of a mistake, when we owed far less than we knew! It's so unfair."

Laurie gulped. Oh dear. He
hadn't known the lie he'd perpetrated to hide his charity from the Wilkensons
and spare Henry's blushes had been causing Jenny such anger and pain. He hadn't
known, but he felt guilty: he should have known. Despite her cheerful,
uncomplaining nature, Jenny was only human; of course injustice would enrage
her.

So he had to tell her the
truth. Moving closer and taking her gently into his arms, Laurie said, "Jenny.
I did it."

"What?" She
blinked up at him, looking both endearingly and utterly confused. His beautiful
Jenny, her hair finally free as it wanted to be.

He made a wry face. "I
did it, love. Shortly after I brought Henry home that day. I paid off most of
your father's debt and convinced the bank to say it had been an error. I knew
your brother wouldn't accept it otherwise, but I'd no notion you would be so hurt.
I'm sorry for deceiving you."

She pulled free and looked
at him as if she'd never seen him before, her expression one of incomprehension
and utter confusion. "But, why? Why would you do that?"

Laurie looked at the
ground and scuffed the grass beneath his highly polished right boot. Then he
looked up and met her gaze and smiled. "I didn't want either of you to
keep suffering under that unfair burden."

"Unfair burden..."
Her voice sounded faint. She grabbed hold of the tree, as if to keep her
balance.

He stepped forward again and
wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her to him: he wanted to be her
support from now on, whenever she needed him. No more brave smiles and making
the best of things and not admitting when she was hurt. He wanted to be the one
she trusted with all of it. Now he couldn't keep from smiling. "And I
couldn't marry into a family so deep in the hatches, you know."

"All this, for me?"
Her laugh was not quite steady, and her smile was bright with unshed tears.

"Well, for your
brother as well. I am quite fond of him, you know. The old school—"

She covered his mouth with
a kiss. It was quite enough to silence Laurie's wagging tongue.

THE END

More romance by Alice M. Roelke:

Peaches In Winter
, published by MuseItUp
Publishing

What does author Jake
Watterson need with a secretary?  Nothing, that's what!  Until he meets Betty
Ann…

Betty wanted nothing more
than to be a secretary, to forget the past and a fiancé who jilted her.  But
sexual harassment from her boss left her jobless, struggling to survive in the
big city.  A new job with grumpy author Jake Watterson is the second chance she
needs. 

Unfortunately, she starts
out on the wrong foot: talking too much and bringing the police round by her
ignorance of city life.  But all the same, he accepts her, and she can't help
liking him.  He's smart, handsome, and such a kind man underneath that gruff
exterior.  He talks to her like she's a real person, not just a pretty face.

Warmth and attraction grow
between the two main characters in this 'sweet' or 'traditional' romance set in
the 1950s.  Betty and Jake both have wounds on their hearts, but somehow, being
near each other thaws the winter in their lives and heals their pain.

Betty is convinced that
Jake could never look at her as anything but a secretary—and not even a very
good one.  Jake's certain he's too damaged and could never be good enough for
the sweet and beautiful farm girl who's entered his world, talking about life
on the peach farm and baking him the most delicious things. But he's falling
hard for her.

Jake's friend and
publisher gets into the mix when he sees how beautiful Betty is and decides to
start flirting with her, to Betty's shy consternation and Jake's jealous
irritation. 

Then Betty's fiancé who
jilted her shows up on her doorstep, hat in hand…

Chapter One

Betty Ann faced the
secretary pool’s main desk. She wore her best flower-print dress—her only
store-bought one. “Please, Miss Johnson, I’ll work really hard. I won’t lose my
next job, I promise! It really wasn’t my fault I lost the first one. You’ve
got
to believe me.”

She had brushed her hair
till it curled neatly around her shoulders, but her face felt pinched and
small, ready to dissolve into tears any minute now. She dearly hoped she
wouldn’t. She knew her boss thought her far too young already.

In the background, the
sound of typewriters clacking echoed from the back room. Nearby, a radio
played, and the swinging sounds of big band music floated out. A telephone
rang, and someone answered it. It was another busy day for the Jefferson Secretarial
Agency, another busy day in 1957—for everyone but Betty Ann.

Miss Johnson, an elderly
woman with her glasses attached to a beaded string, sat behind a big oak desk
and answered Betty patiently. “I’m sorry, Miss Keene, but whether it was your
fault or not, most of our secretarial jobs require the ability to type—and type
well. I don’t know how you graduated secretarial school without that skill, but
apparently you did.”

Miss Johnson adjusted her
glasses and peered over them. “I don’t think I have to remind you,” she
drawled, “that you don’t need to come in every day and ask for work. You were
informed the agency would contact you as soon as we received a job offer for
you.”

“I-I know,” faltered Betty
Ann. Her voice shook. “But—”
I’m not going to cry, but I’ve got to find a
job! I can’t go home yet; I just can’t.

“It’s hard to be patient,
I know.” Miss Johnson’s voice continued, not without sympathy. “It’s never easy
waiting for a job, but maybe you shouldn’t. Take my advice, Miss Keene—
go
home
. It’s going to be a long wait if you stay here.

“You’ve got good
qualities: you’re cheerful, pretty, and apparently you know everything there is
to know about peach farming. It shouldn’t be hard for you to find a husband.
Why don’t you go back to the country and marry a nice farm boy, because here in
the city, we don’t need— Excuse me.”

The phone rang. She broke
off talking to Betty and answered it. She listened for a moment. A look of awe
slowly overtook her tired features.

“Yes. Yes, Mr. Armstrong.
Cheerful, you say?” Her eyes flicked up to Betty with growing wonder. “I think
I have just the girl.” She wrote an address down and nodded. “I’ll send her
right over. Thank you for using Jefferson Secretarial Agency.”