Page 3 of The Dreaming Beauty
In an alley, hardly away from the crowd, Tansy sawherMr. Robinson in a tender embrace with none other than Miss Evans. A wave of nausea climbed her throat. According to her aunts, she had inherited her strange gift of premonitions from her grandmother, but they were rare and hardly useful. How would seeing this nauseating sight serve her well? She squeezed her hands at her sides, wishing she had had the foresight to bring something to throw at the man. She thought it could not get any worse when Mr. Robinson’s eye caught hers. He pushed Miss Evans away and called after Tansy.
It was too late for him.
She was thoroughly sick of men and dreams and anything in between.
She whirled around and fled. Mr. Robinson called himself a gentleman, and yet he chased after her like a dog. Well, she was not a chewed-up bone to first be thrown away and then turned back to with fond regret. Her skirts whipped between her legs as she retraced her steps, hoping to lose Mr. Robinson in the hordes of people as easily as she had Betsy. As undignified as it was to run, or even be in this vicinity without a chaperone, Tansy had some pride—and she would not face Mr. Robinson if she could avoid it. She needed away from him as fast as possible.
“Miss White!” Mr. Robinson called, close enough to make her cringe. “A moment of your time, please!”
A moment? He had had weeks of her time. She ignored him and weaved around a carriage to cross the street. Mr. Robinson was undeterred and drew closer. He was not a prize-winning fighter because he was slow, and her cumbersome dress thwarted any attempt to hasten her escape. She made it to the other side of the crowded street only for the man to jump in front of her. “I can explain everything.”
Drawing herself up short, she narrowed her eyes at him. “What I just witnessed needs no explanation, sir. Now, if you would move aside, I will be on my way.”
Mr. Robinson held out his heavy arms, his sausage-sized fingers and wide-set eyes pressing her to stay in her place. What had she ever seen in him anyway?
“It was just one kiss made in the heat of celebration. I swear, that is all! I don’t care for Miss Evans as I do for you.”
Just a kiss?Justa kiss! Surely, she was not the only one who had witnessed it. Poor Miss Evans, to be so publicly ill-used only to be tossed away without a second thought. Tansy would never unsee such a shameful scene. “My trust in you is gone forever. Excuse me, but I must return home to people who truly care for me.” She stepped to the side, but he dropped his arms and moved with her.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t be rushing back home. It was those crazed aunts of yours who had me second-guessing everything. Poor as chickens and with no man to tell them to put aside their silly, superstitious ways. I don’t know how you abide it.”
Tansy huffed, sick of people turning up their noses at the three women who were her everything. “You mean myfamily? I would not be so free with your words, Mr. Robinson.”
His bruised jaw, half green and yellow on one side, tightened. “It wasn’t just them, Miss White. It was you too.”
She folded her arms across her chest, the sleeves of her spencer pulling tight. “It wasIwho sent you to the arms of another? Pray tell, how am I possibly responsible for such a deed?” She dared him with her eyes to mention the rumors of her illegitimate birth. She might not be able to disprove them, despite assurances from her aunts that they were untrue, but the man ought to possess an ounce of manners after his dalliance with Miss Evans.
Mr. Robinson pointed at her, words sputtering in his mouth as he tried to form them. He was strong as an ox and fast on his feet, but he had the intelligence and logic of an irrational child. “You practically pushed me into her arms.”
“That makes perfect sense. Next you’ll be telling me I asked you to propose to her too.” This time Tansy was able to get around him and didn’t stop to see his response.
He was by her side again in an instant. “You’re untouchable,” he said. “No one is good enough for you. You’re the prettiest woman in Yorkshire, but you guard your heart like I do my teeth in a fight.”
“I am disappointed. I thought I was the prettiest in England.” She had to throw back one of his oft-spoken compliments. No sentiment from him had any worth now. And he was wrong about her being standoffish. She was simply careful. Revealing too much about herself would be a grave mistake. Experience had taught her that. She rounded the corner and marched toward the milliner’s to fetch Betsy.
“I misspoke,” Mr. Robinson said hastily. “You’re the prettiest girl I have ever met and likely ever will. I chased you, I did, and tried to court you, but you always kept me at a distance. A man gets lonely.”
A flash of hurt dislodged her anger for a moment, but she pushed it aside. “You’re rambling. First it was because of my family, and now it is my fault that I did not throw myself at you like Miss Evans did. I will not be to blame for your very public indiscretion. I see no reason you are following me now. Go home, Mr. Robinson. Or, better yet, marry Miss Evans and see right by her.” She paused in step to search through the window for Betsy. Aster would be most disagreeable if she learned Tansy had left Betsy’s side. She caught Mr. Robinson’s guilt-ridden eyes and immediately turned away.
Let him feel sorry. Let him regret losing her.
She moved to the other side of the corner shop to peer through the next window, but there was Betsy sitting on a bench set against the building. Tansy caught her attention and waved.
“I’m happy you are angry, Miss White,” Mr. Robinson growled.
She bit her tongue. The gall of that man!
He angled his thick torso toward her, a sheen of sweat that she had not noticed before lining his forehead. “It means you do care. I’ve been waiting for such a sign. I swear I’ll never see Miss Evans again. You will see us married yet.”
Betsy hurried to her side, and not a moment too soon. “Miss White! I’ve been searching everywhere for you.”
“There will never be a you and I, Mr. Robinson, so please do not link our names together.” She pushed past him, wishing the moisture forming in her eyes would dry up like a desert. Thankfully, Mr. Robinson did not follow this time. The long walk home passed quicker than ever before with anger fueling her forward. Betsy could hardly keep up.
Once home again, Tansy knew she could say nothing to any of her aunts. She marched right past Aster, ignoring the pruning shears her aunt waved to her, and did not stop to acknowledge her youngest aunt, Daisy, who sat sketching on the lawn, either.Tansy put one hand on the rough brick of the house and used the other to yank open the door. The door slammed shut behind her, making the picture hanging above the mantel swing back and forth against the gold-papered walls. She frowned at her proudest creation, a painting of roses blooming in front of a cottage. It was far too cheerful for a day such as this—a day when a man had finally proposed to her and she had run him off. No future scold could prevent the way she flopped onto the sofa or the unladylike growl that emitted from her mouth.
“Good heavens,” Iris said, entering the drawing room. Her raven-black hair spewed frizzy wisps from its bun—a sure sign of hours spent reading in her favorite chair. “Do not tell me Mr. Robinson put that frown on your face. If I have warned you once, I have warned you a thousand times. Men are evil.”
Her words hissed from her mouth and snaked their way around Tansy’s heart. Aster was not in the room to tell Iris to hush her curses and constant doom and gloom, and Tansy would never speak to any of her aunts with such disrespect, so she held her tongue. Even if deep down she knew not all men were wicked, today she believed it.
