Once Upon A Townsbridge Story: A Townsbridge Prequel (The Townsbridges, #1)

by Sophie Barnes

  Relieved to know they could have their outings in peace, they enjoyed a couple of evenings at Vauxhall Garden with Margaret’s parents, and even flew a kite they’d made together one rainy afternoon.

  With each added moment in Margaret’s company, George’s fondness for her increased until he was certain he loved her to distraction.

  “I saw Shrewsberry again this morning,” Margaret told him the next time George came to call. “He stopped by with that bouquet over there and apologized for his lack of attention these past two weeks.”

  George glanced at the lovely collection of roses. “Annoyingly persistent, isn’t he?”

  “Considering I’ve turned him down every time he’s invited me to join him for a walk or a ride in the park, I’d say so.” She pressed her lips together, creating an expression George had come to identify as irritation. “Of course, whenever he does show, I have to sit down to tea with him, which has become quite a chore. Honestly, George, I’m not sure what I ever saw in him. The man has no thought of his own. He just sat on that sofa for one full hour and bobbed his head in response to everything I said.”

  George frowned. “I wonder over his dogged determination when most men would have given up by now.”

  “I think he needs the money my dowry will provide.”

  “But you’re not the only woman with a dowry who’s available on the marriage mart. Why wouldn’t he move on to one of the others once he learned you lacked an interest?”

  “Maybe because he’s too dense to comprehend my repeated attempts at dissuading him?”

  “Hmm... No. There’s got to be something else. I’ll try to look into it so we can get him to leave you in peace once and for all.”

  “Thank you.” She reached for his hand. “I’m grateful. It’s nice to have someone on whom to rely for support. During the time I’ve known you, you have become my dearest friend, my closest confidante, and the only man with whom I can see myself spending the rest of my life.”

  His chest tightened. Her touch alone was enough to quicken his pulse, but her words had the power to slay him. “If only I could kiss you right now.”

  Her lips quirked. “I do wonder how my maid would react if you did.”

  He cast a glance in the maid’s direction and sighed. His moments alone with Margaret were few and far between, scarcely long enough for the swiftest of kisses whenever they did occur. “My parents have been asking me when we plan to announce our engagement.”

  “Soon. In another couple of weeks.”

  George nodded and forced a smile. Given how he felt and with her own words of affection for him still lingering in the air, he could not see the point in dragging their courtship on any longer. But a deal was a deal, so he’d stick with it.

  “Will you be at the Everton ball on Saturday?” she asked in a bright tone he knew was meant to change the topic and mood of their conversation.

  “I plan to. Yes.”

  “Excellent. I’ll look forward to dancing with you then.”

  “So will I.” He squeezed her hand and released it so he could take a sip of his tea. When he departed her home half an hour later, he went straight to his club. It was past time he figured out Shrewsberry’s motive for chasing after Margaret.

  Chapter Five

  THE EVERTON BALL WAS a dazzling event. Dressed in a white muslin gown belted by a wide sash cut from aquamarine satin, Margaret admired the splendor of her surroundings. Chandeliers filled each room with a brilliant glow, beneath which diamonds set in necklaces, earrings, and hairpins alike, twinkled. Chatter buzzed through the air while soft notes played by violins wafted forth from the ballroom. It was quite a crush. Margaret had been jostled a few times already, almost spilling her champagne as a result the last time someone pushed their way past her. She’d also lost sight of her parents, who’d been right behind her until she’d turned and noticed they’d both disappeared in the crowd.

  A hand caught her elbow, the jolt of awareness it caused leaving no doubt in her mind about the identity of the person who’d touched her. She angled her head as George leaned in to murmur, “You’re a vision this evening, Margaret, for which I am grateful. It made finding you in this throng no hardship at all.”

  She blushed as she turned more fully toward him. Dressed in a frock coat cut from navy blue silk, matching breeches, and a cream-colored waistcoat edged with gold trim, he looked incredibly handsome. Instead of a powdered wig, he wore his hair short, which Margaret preferred. “Shall we see if the ballroom’s more bearable?”

  “Is that my cue to invite you to dance?” he asked with a teasing smile that made her heart triple in size.

  Margaret loved the easy banter she’d grown accustomed to in his presence. “Maybe.”

  He grinned and offered his arm, which she accepted as soon as she’d handed her half-empty glass of champagne to a nearby footman. “Let’s not waste any more time then.” He escorted her into the ballroom where a quadrille was underway.

  “I’ve been wondering if you learned more with regard to Shrewsberry’s reasoning,” Margaret said while they waited for the dance to end.

  “Indeed. It would appear he made a bet.”

  “A bet?”

  “Apparently, you have been labeled a challenging conquest. Shrewsberry has wagered one thousand pounds on being able to secure your hand.”

  “But that’s preposterous.”

  “It does explain why he’s still in pursuit.”

  Margaret huffed a breath. One thousand pounds would not get the earl to relent any time soon. Which was something she found to be quite disconcerting.

  The quadrille ended and George led her onto the dance floor. They took their positions for the ensuing minuet. The precise piece of music began. George bowed and Margaret curtsied. His hand clasped hers so he could guide her through the steps, turning her this way and that while weaving between other couples. The pleasure she saw in his eyes reflected the pure contentment she felt in her heart. This was the man she would marry. There was no doubt at all in her mind.

  “I’ve heard there’s a scandalous dance spreading its way across the Continent,” George said when they’d danced for a while.

  “You make it sound like a wildfire,” Margaret said with a smirk, “or a plague.”

  “Apparently, it allows couples to dance while embracing.”

  “Really?” She couldn’t imagine such a thing. It sounded both awkward and like a recipe for ruin.

  “Oh yes,” he murmured. He drew her closer - much closer than the steps permitted. His hand settled neatly against her waist, just for a second, before he stepped back once again to add the appropriate distance. “A pity it hasn’t yet come to England.”

  Margaret wished she had her fan at the ready. Heat burned her cheeks. “You are a scoundrel, aren’t you?”

  “Only when I’m with you,” he assured her.

  It was impossible not to smile in response to his words. No one had ever made her feel more adored than he. “These past few weeks have been the best of my life, George.”

  “Mine too.” The music began to fade, drawing the dance to a close, but his gaze held hers with unwavering certainty. “Shall we go and get some fresh air on the terrace?”

  “I’d like that. I just have to visit the ladies’ retiring room first.”

  “All right. I’ll fetch a couple of drinks for us while I wait.”

  Agreeing to meet him by the terrace doors, Margaret hurried off. Thankfully the line leading into the retiring room wasn’t as long as she’d feared it might be, allowing her to make her way back to the ballroom within ten minutes.

  But before she managed to cross the parlor she had to pass through on her way, a familiar female voice called her name. For a second, Margaret considered pretending she hadn’t heard the summons, but to do so would be rude. So she stopped and turned to greet her friend.

  “Callie. It’s been a while.”

  “Too long,” Callie said. The Earl of Merryweather’s youngest daugh
ter was accompanied by two other women with whom Margaret was acquainted, though not nearly as well. One was Miss Jemima Thornton, the other, Lady Kimberly Wessex.

  “We missed you the last time we met to play shuttlecock,” Miss Thornton said. “It would have been better with two equal teams. Instead, we were forced to take turns.”

  “I’m sorry. As I recall I was busy that day.” In fact, she’d declined the invitation Callie had issued so she could go riding with George instead.

  “It does seem like that has become a habit of yours lately,” Lady Kimberly murmured.

  “Not that we mind,” Callie said. She gave Lady Kimberly a chastising look before returning her attention to Margaret. “It is only that we miss you.”

  “Of course, we’re also concerned,” Miss Thornton said.

  “Concerned?” Margaret couldn’t imagine why.

  “You have been spending a great deal of time with Mr. George Townsbridge.” Callie’s whisper was barely audible above the loud chatter of other guests standing nearby. “People are starting to talk, so we thought it best to warn you.”

  The nape of Margaret’s neck began to prick. “About what?”

  “Your reputation,” Lady Kimberly said in a tone that suggested Margaret’s virtue was likely beyond saving. “He is not the sort of man a young lady ought to be seen with at great length.”

  Anger began to gather at the base of Margaret’s spine. She could tell the three women that their concerns were unwanted, she could inform them that it was none of their business who she chose to accept attention from, least of all when her very own parents approved of George. Instead, she straightened and said, “In that case, I fear I must disappoint you since it is my intention to spend as much time with him as possible. The rest of my life, in fact.”

  All three women gasped.

  “You plan on marrying him?” Callie asked.

  Margaret wondered at their surprise. “Why else do you think I’ve been seeing him?”

  “To satisfy your curiosity about kissing?” Lady Kimberly asked.

  Margaret had no idea what to say to that, so she kept her mouth shut.

  “Mr. George Townsbridge is not the sort of man a woman marries,” Callie said while Miss Thornton and Lady Kimberly nodded. “You would do far better if you were to let Lord Shrewsberry court you instead. In fact, he himself claims to be quite keen on you.”

  As if on cue, an arm swept around Margaret’s waist and drew her close to a masculine frame. “The truth cannot be denied,” Shrewsberry drawled.

  Margaret set her jaw and tried to give him a shove, but the man refused to release her, and people were now beginning to stare. Desperate to make herself clear, she said, “I would not accept an offer of marriage from you if you were the last man on earth.”

  “But he’s a respectable earl,” Miss Thornton protested.

  “Only in appearance,” Margaret said, still trying to free herself. “Have any of you ever had a conversation with him?”

  “No,” Callie confessed while the other two ladies shook their heads. “But he’s handsome and always polite - the very image of gentlemanly perfection.”

  “Why, thank you,” Shrewsberry said. He gave the three ladies a dazzling smile that made them all blush.

  Margaret rolled her eyes. “I think he may have cotton stuffing between his ears.”

  “But you’ve always spoken so highly of him,” Callie said with a hint of incomprehension. She glanced at Shrewsberry. “It’s true, you know.”

  Lord help her. Margaret was starting to think she might need new friends.

  “I’m sure it is,” Shrewsberry preened while pulling her ever closer.

  “I was mistaken.”

  “You cannot honestly say you prefer Mr. Townsbridge.” Lady Kimberly looked like she might swoon on account of the horror. “He is a rake, a despicable cad, a no good scoundrel, and a—”

  “Say one more disparaging thing about him,” Margaret said, her voice so frosty it left a chill in her own mouth, “and our acquaintanceship will be over.”

  “Look, you clearly need to be saved,” Shrewsberry declared with the sort of drama worthy of the stage. “And I am the man to do it. Take my hand in marriage and be my countess!” He spun her more fully toward him, offering her a sharp whiff of brandy fumes as he lowered his mouth to hers. Cheers erupted around them as those who watched mistakenly thought she’d agreed to be his wife.

  Margaret leaned back as far as she could to avoid all contact with the presumptuous man. She placed her palms against his chest and pushed, but he was stronger than she and refused to be swayed, though the atmosphere in the room was beginning to shift. It was clear from the fading cheers and muted murmurs that people were starting to doubt her compliance.

  “Release me this instant,” she gritted.

  Shrewsberry merely grinned and held her tighter. “I don’t think so.”

  “If you’re wise, you’ll do as the lady asks,” a dangerous voice said.

  Margaret’s heart jolted. George. He was here. Everything would be fine.

  SHREWSBERRY GAVE A low snort. “I’m an earl. Above you in every way, Mr. Townsbridge.”

  “Except with regard to common decency,” George said. Reaching out, he grabbed Shrewsberry by the throat. The earl’s eyes widened, a sputtering sound emerged from his mouth, and then his hold on Margaret loosened as he was set aside like a discarded piece of unpleasant refuse.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing,” Shrewsberry barked. “That woman there is supposed to be mine.”

  Shocked remarks began circling them. George put his arm around Margaret. “Allow me to remind you of your manners, my lord. You will refer to Miss Hollyoak with respect.”

  “After she’s been leading me on a merry chase for several months?” Shrewsberry gave a snort of disdain. His words, Margaret noted for the first time, were slightly slurred. “She’s clearly taken leave of her senses. I mean, what woman in her right mind would ever marry an untitled good for nothing rake instead of an earl?”

  “Just so you know,” Margaret said with every intention of putting the ton’s misguided view of George to right, “you are wrong about Mr. Townsbridge. All of you. He is without a doubt the most honorable, kind hearted, and considerate man I have ever known. There is no one in this world with whom I would rather spend each waking moment. In fact, I love him with every beat of my heart, with every fiber of my being, and nothing anyone says is going to change that.”

  “I’m incredibly glad to hear you say so,” George murmured close to her ear. “Because I love you too.”

  Without caring about the spectacle they might be making, Margaret threw her arms around him, jostling him so he spilled the champagne from the glasses he held in one hand. She didn’t care, all that mattered was telling the world that this man was right for her, that he deserved her, and that she would happily show her affection for him in public no matter how scandalous doing so was.

  “Goodness,” Margaret heard Callie say while Margaret pressed her mouth firmly to George’s, “how utterly romantic.”

  “Does this mean they’re now engaged?” Lady Kimberly asked.

  “Yes, it does,” Margaret said. She was through with waiting, done with torturing both of them with one more week since they were both certain of what they wanted. She met George’s gaze. “If he’ll have me.”

  “This is complete horse shite,” Shrewsberry said.

  “Calm yourself, man.” George tightened his hold on Margaret to offer assurance. “You’re clearly in your cups.”

  “Nonsense. My evening’s just getting started.” Shrewsberry snorted. His gaze slid toward Margaret. “One thousand pounds. That’s what you’ve cost me, you little ungrateful—”

  “Enough,” George thundered. “I suggest you take yourself home before you make more of a spectacle of yourself.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” Shrewsberry sneered. He swayed slightly while glancing around. The smirk he wore sugg
ested he thought the crowd was cheering him on when in fact there was nothing but silence now. Which only served to underscore the earl’s public humiliation. And then, as if he were determined to make matters worse, his arm swung out, directly at George, who easily sidestepped the blow while shielding Margaret with his body.

  “Come,” Viscount Ravenhurst, one of Shrewsberry’s acquaintances, said as he grabbed the earl by his arm. “Let’s have a look at the billiards room.”

  “Let me go.” Shrewsberry tried to shake the viscount off.

  “Stop it,” Ravenhurst hissed. “You’re making a scene.”

  “As if I care,” Shrewsberry sneered. He pointed at Margaret. “One thousand pounds!”

  “Come on.” The Marquess of Dashford came to assist. He grabbed hold of Shrewsberry’s other arm. “You’re not improving your situation with this display.”

  “I’m ruined,” Shrewsberry wailed. He made another attempt to free himself, but lost his footing in the process and nearly took Ravenhurst and Dashford down with him. The two men hauled Shrewsberry upright and, with what looked like great effort, escorted him from the room to the detriment of his reputation.

  “Oh dear,” Margaret said as she watched the trio stagger off. “It seems his true self has finally been revealed in public.”

  “I can’t say I pity him,” George said. “In fact, I think it’s a good thing the world sees him for who he is. It will hopefully stop unsuspecting young women from thinking he’s a good catch.”

  “At least this way, they’ll know what they’re getting into if they do choose to marry him.”

  “Speaking of marriage, I don’t think I gave you an answer, Margaret, but then again, I am the one who ought to be doing the asking.” He clasped her hands, held her gaze for a moment, then promptly lowered himself to one knee. A buzz of excitement swept through the room.

  “What’s going on?” a man asked.

  “Looks like Mr. Townsbridge is offering marriage,” a lady answered.

  “Impossible. The man’s a renowned rake.”