Julian laughed. “A wager she says! If the matrons could hear you now!”
“We’ve corrupted her.” Edward’s eyes held warmth, and she knew a part of him was secretly pleased. “I knew it would happen. What diamond talks as you do?”
Oscar, ever positive, added, “And yet she is a diamond. The books at Whites are filled with their own wagers as to who will win her hand.”
Every brother's face went ashen.
She blushed. “It’s not as if there is anything to worry about…” But how embarrassing to be discussed in such a manner.
Edward looked positively ill, loosening his cravat, and she began to wonder what had them so concerned.
“What could possibly go wrong?” She looked from face to face. A new sense of foreboding began in the back of her throat in a particular, pointed tightness.
After a silence no one filled, Edward finally said, “It wouldn’t hurt for each of you brothers to be looking for wives as well, wealthy ones.”
Julian pounded his brother's back. “Always the responsible one.” Then he turned to Tabitha. “You are the one we need to focus on this year, Tabby Cat.”
“Well, it certainly won’t help if you go around addressing me like that.”
“Why not? Your endearing nickname hasn’t turned Henry away.”
“Turned me away from what?”
Tabitha’s stomach flipped, and she whirled around to face the sixth member of their party.
With a sharp chiseled jawline and eyes sparkling in amusement, Henry filled the doorway. As a dear family friend, most of her childhood memories included Henry. But every time she saw him, a nervous energy coursed through her. She grinned up at him in welcome, but he was looking at Julian.
The brother with the honor of Henry’s attention jabbed a thumb in her direction. “Tabby thinks her nickname might not be the thing.” He winked.
She dipped her head to hide the blush. “Henry’s opinion doesn’t count.”
“Ho, Ho!” Julian nudged him. “Do you hear that? You don’t count.”
Henry winked at her. “I suppose she means because I am like a brother? Always present, even when you don’t want me.” His warm eyes twinkled at her.
She shrugged, looking away. He will never see. How can I make him see?
Julian shoved him playfully. “You’ve heard it often enough, and yet here you are.”
“Glutton for punishment.” He snatched away the stick and took a turn hitting a ball across the table. “And who says I am here for Tabby? Cook’s meat pie can’t be beat in any house.”
She lifted her chin, suddenly defiant. “Besides, I have no desire to be married.”
Laughter filled the room.
“Tabitha Easton, on the shelf.”
Oscar shook his head. “That’ll never happen.”
But Edward moved closer to her, concern on his face. “Ever?”
She sat in the nearest chair. “I suppose it will be a wonderful pastime someday.”
“Pastime, she says. Pastime.” Julian shook his head. “Let me tell you dear sister. Marriage is like a gentle lead on a new mare. At first she likes the feel. It’s soft and nice, appears harmless. But then it pulls tighter and tighter until ack!” He demonstrated a noose around the throat with his hands. “It cinches so tight you cannot break away.”
A part of her tightened inside like that rope; she wasn’t sure why.
Henry cleared his throat, bent down beside her chair, and put his arm across her shoulders.
She felt her neck heat and turned to him, searching his eyes, inches from her own. His expression was playful and full of warmth. She could barely breathe and forced herself to swallow.
“Come now, it isn’t as bad as all that." Henry's eyes turned tender. "Let’s not ruin it for her.”
Before she could stop herself, she leaned closer.
His voice, like a warm breeze, circled around and tickled her insides. “Marriage would be wonderful to the right person, someone to share the thoughts you tell no one else. Your closest friend…”
She smiled and closed her eyes. Friend. Would he want such a thing with her? They were friends. Perhaps he was considering it. As she searched his face, nothing seemed different, and yet, there was a new sparkle in his eyes. She grinned in response.
Then the brothers burst into laughter, and her irritation rose. She stood to leave.
Julian rested a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Is that what you do with the women, Henry? Bare your innermost thoughts?”
Oscar looked perplexed. “I don’t have innermost thoughts.”
“None of us do.” Julian’s eyes held the tears of laughter. “No wonder Henry can’t hang onto a woman.”
Tabitha turned in the doorway. “Well, I thought it lovely.” She tried to show support as her eyes met Henry’s.
His wink sent her insides flipping in funny circles, and she placed a hand on her stomach.
He returned to the table taking a hit at the nearest of three balls, the game forgotten by the others. “Of course she thinks it’s lovely, being a woman. I don’t expect the rest of your sorry selves to understand.”
Oscar snatched the stick. “Whoa there, our sister is not a woman."
Julian laughed. “Oh yes she is! Have you seen her lately?”
She wished to hide beneath the floorboards. And felt so lonely for a sister it nearly caused pain. Ever since her mother had taken ill, she had precious few moments with anyone female she could trust.
“Well, we best get used to the idea.” Oscar held up one finger. “Because all the men at this house party are going to notice.”
Henry nodded. “Especially when she wears green.”
Her face blazed, and she couldn’t take any more. “I am right here, you know.”
“Then you get to listen in.” Edward waved a hand in her direction. “This conversation doesn’t require your participation.”
Indignation rose. And a great pit of fear opened. Could they have no care for her thoughts?
Oscar stood taller. “Yes. We will review the strategies to keep you protected when we arrive. Only the very worthy shall get past us.”
Henry cleared his throat. “Have we decided who she is to marry?”
Tabitha trembled to hear that question spoken so carelessly by his lips. “I believe that
decision is mine.” Her voice cracked. She rested a hand on Edward’s arm. “These choices are best left in the hands of those they most affect.”
Her eldest brother did have sympathy in his eyes, but he said, “It’s not really your decision. Father left me in charge of your welfare and wrote in his will how I was to go about ensuring a good and productive marriage arrangement for you.”
“We will consider your opinion, of course.” Julian’s calm tones lessened her mounting discomfort. “But we are all attending this infernal party because we need reinforcements to keep the leeches away.”
“Leeches?” This party was sounding more dreadful every moment.
Julian grimaced. “Yes, those undesirables who seek fortune.”
Oscar chimed in. “Or that we don’t like.”
“Or have any sniveling habits. Or can’t play cards worth—”
“Or don’t know how to hunt a fox.” Henry added, moving to stand beside her again.
She loved the surge of tingles that shot through her, as much as she wanted to slink away and hide from them.
“Or any who enjoy battledore.” Oscar’s calculating expression increased Tabitha’s irritation.
They all stopped. Edward asked, “What’s wrong with battledore?”
“Oh nothing. I just can’t have anyone being overly good at it and beat me at all the family gatherings.”
Julian squinted, considering. “You've hit upon something. Shall we have limits on card-playing ability too? We could win money off this chap.”
Tabitha said, “Now you are being ridiculous.” She was about ready to stomp away. How would she endure an entire carriage ride o
f the same?
“But truly, sister.” Edward gathered all the sticks and balls. “He is to join our family, be one of the brothers. We must make certain he will be a good fit.”
“And respect you.” Henry’s eyes showed deep sympathy. “I too am roped into this. Not all gentlemen behave as a gentleman should. And we are here to make sure you don’t have to converse with any of those other sorts.”
“I do have a chaperone.”
Oscar returned the balls to the table and smacked one into a pocket. “Who? Mrs. Hemming?” He laughed. “She’ll be asleep against the wall.”
Tabitha was secretly pleased that was the case. All this hovering was beginning to smother her. She moved to leave.
Tauney joined her in the doorway. “Why are you all just sitting around? Let’s load the carriage and be off!”
“At last!” Edward put away Oscar’s stick. “You are as ridiculous as Prinny with your fashion nonsense.”
* * *
After an interminable ride in the carriage—and one night in a respectable inn—they at last arrived in front of the Countess du Breven’s home in a deluge of rain. The front approach itself took twenty minutes, wheels slogging through wet shale.
And now the great expanse of her lovely house stretched in front of them.
Tabitha lifted the covering over their window to see the approach to the estate. Beech trees lined their entry, limbs bent under the weight of the torrent, but the water brought out a lovely shade of pink in the shale rock of the drive. The whole scene felt otherworldly, and for the first time, a measure of hope rose within her when thinking of the party. “I do love Somerstone Manor.” She longed to get lost on the grounds, walking among the flowers and hedges in the countess’ expansive gardens.
Mrs. Hemming snored in the corner.
“As long as we can get out of this carriage, I don’t care where we stay.” Oscar sat stiffly, wedged and jostled against his brothers. Rain pounded the roof, their mounts followed behind. Four broad-shouldered, impatient, and damp men sat pinned together, forced to ride inside once the rain commenced.
They arrived in the hall, shaking water off their persons, the brothers forming a line to Tabitha’s front, Henry at her side.
The Countess stepped forward. “We are so happy you have come, Lord Easton.” She held out her hand, and Edward bowed over it. The others bowed with him, and Tabitha lowered in a deep curtsey.
Three gentlemen caught Tabitha’s eye, coming down the stairs. Anthony Pemberton, one of the Pinkerton twins, and Reginald Beauchamp: three of the most sought after men in the ton, all in one place. “Oh. My. I wonder who else the countess has included in her invitations.”
Edward followed her gaze and immediately bristled. “Brothers. As soon as we change, let us meet in my room to receive our assignments.”
Tabitha sighed.
Henry placed his hand on hers. “Will you be all right? I believe I’ve been summoned elsewhere.”
“Yes, quite.” She indicated Mrs. Hemming, who was already bustling her away to get out of her wet things before she caught a chill.
Many eyes watched her move up the stairs. Accustomed to attention, she did not let it rattle her too much. But she would have much preferred a smaller gathering.
Reginald Beauchamp approached on the stairway, flipping his hair away to reveal a brilliant pair of green eyes. She held out her hand. “Hello, Mr. Beauchamp. Pleased to see you again.” He was more handsome than any man deserved to be. A pity his attention never focused very long in one direction.
He bowed, and his kiss lingered on her gloved hand.
“Come child. We must get you warmed.” Mrs. Hemming scowled at poor Mr. Beauchamp.
He raised his eyebrow in amusement then turned back to Tabitha. “Will I be seeing you at dinner?”
“Yes, she is going to eat, now if you’ll excuse us.”
“Mrs. Hemming, really.” Deep embarrassment filled her. After the discomfort of travel and the slipping sense of control over her life, the emotion almost overwhelmed her. Grasping for something, any decision completely her own, in a moment of pure rebellion, she stepped closer to Mr. Beauchamp, quirked her lips in a half grin.
“Unless you want to meet sooner.”
His eyes flew open in shock. Then he recovered, a teasing glint lighting his face.
“You surprise me.”
* * *
To read the rest of Tabitha’s Folly, Click HERE. OR go to Jen’s Amazon page to order your copy.
About the Author
An award winning author, including the GOLD in Foreword INDIES Book of the Year Awards, Jen Geigle Johnson discovered her passion for England while kayaking on the Thames near London as a young teenager.
She once greeted an ancient turtle under the water by grabbing her fin. She knows all about the sound a water-ski makes on glassy water and how to fall down steep moguls with grace. During a study break date in college, she sat on top of a jeep's roll bars up in the mountains and fell in love.
Now, she loves to share bits of history that might otherwise be forgotten. Whether in Regency England, the French Revolution, or Colonial America, her romance novels are much like life is supposed to be: full of adventure. She is a member of the RWA, the SCBWI, and LDStorymakers. She is also the chair of the Lonestar.Ink writing conference.
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Copyright © 2018 by Jen Geigle Johnson
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