Weddings and Scandals: Regency Romance Collection

by Alec, Joyce

  Miss James frowned, her eyes on his pained expression. She opened her mouth as though to ask if he was all right or if he required her help, only to close it again as the pain wiped itself from his face.

  “Well?”

  She shrugged, looking away from him towards the large window to his left. The day was fine and bright afternoon sunshine filled the room. It meandered towards Miss James as she rose from her chair, walking to the window so as to look out. “Your way of speaking, for one,” she said, as the sunlight touched her hair lightly, making it glow like gold. “Your manner. You have clearly been given the training required of a gentleman.”

  He managed a small, tight smile, finding that his heart was suddenly quickening in his chest for no discernable reason whatsoever.

  “You may deny it as much as you wish,” she continued, not looking at him but still gazing out of the window, “but I can tell a gentleman of quality easily enough. After all, that is all I have been surrounded by these last few years.”

  Something in her tone had Michael frowning. There was a ruefulness about her, a deep frustration that was beginning to reveal itself to him. What was it she meant?

  “You do not want to go to the ball this evening, Miss James?”

  A deep sigh came from her lips and carried itself towards him. “Does it matter what I wish, sir?” She glanced across at him, her eyes a little sorrowful. “My brother is insistent that I find a gentleman to marry, and quickly, too. We have something of an arrangement, however, which I hope will bring an end to such pressure, but I must attend a few other balls before our own in order to… placate him.” These last two words were spoken with a good deal of feeling, her eyes lingering on him for a moment or two longer before turning back to the window.

  “I see,” Michael murmured as Miss James sighed again and turned back towards him. “You are not inclined to dancing and the like, and yet your brother is insisting that you attend?”

  “He was not particularly pleased to know that I have a stranger in one of our guest bedchambers,” she replied wryly. “Therefore, the only way I could ensure that he remained… calm… about the current situation, was to promise that I would attend whatever functions he wished until our own ball in three days’ time.”

  Michael nodded slowly. Finding himself a little parched, he reached out and took a hold of his glass, which was filled with water. Drinking it carefully, he allowed the silence to stretch out between them for some minutes, his mind thinking quickly. There were a few questions he wanted answers to but he did not want to make Miss James suspicious of his motives.

  “You are thirsty, it seems,” Miss James commented as he set his glass back down by the side of his bed. She picked up a jug from nearby and refilled his glass, making him smile his thanks. Miss James was, it seemed, kindness itself and he felt a deep sense of pain and regret over attempting to use it against her.

  “You are to have a ball here?” he asked, seeing her nod as she settled back into her chair. “Your brother is to throw it on your behalf?” Lord Wickton had not come to visit Michael, even though Michael knew that the Viscount was fully aware of his presence within the house. That was probably a good thing, for Wickton might well recognize him and thereafter begin to search for a reason as to why Michael now found himself in such a predicament.

  Miss James arched one eyebrow. “You will think me foolish, no doubt, for most gentlemen do, but I prefer reading to dancing and ridiculous conversation that holds no substance.” She sighed again, closing her eyes as though the idea of a ball pained her. “I stay with the wallflowers deliberately, for I do not particularly want to engage with gentlemen who will only look in my direction simply due to the dowry I will bring with me. They have no particular interest in who I am or what I enjoy. They care only about their coffers.”

  “Surely there must be some who are not like that,” Michael protested, knowing full well that he was one such gentleman. “Some who have more than enough wealth.”

  Miss James snorted in derision, as though he had said something more than foolish. “Those gentlemen are few and far between,” she stated, a touch icily. “And, regardless of whether or not they require my dowry, they would not care for a bluestocking for a wife, sir. I can promise you that.”

  Michael allowed her words to settle in his mind for a few moments, hearing rather than seeing all that she felt. Miss James was one of these extraordinary creatures that rebuffed society and all that it stood for, it seemed. She did not care about whether or not she was doing as she ought. She did not care that society turned their head away from young ladies who cared for learning and book reading and the like. To her, that was foolishness indeed. It was clear that Miss James had a sharp mind and a quick wit, as well as both courage and bravery deep within herself. What other young lady of his acquaintance would be able to push a needle into an open wound and sew it up so that the injured party would be able to recover? He did not think he knew of a single lady who would have done so.

  “I am sorry to hear that, Miss James,” he said eventually, feeling the weight of her frustration settle onto his own shoulders. “I can assure you that not every gentleman is as foolish as to turn his back on such a lady. There is nothing wrong with the fairer sex furthering their own knowledge, as far as I can see. In fact, it gives a rather good impression of the lady, I think. A lady who seeks to learn and to grow, to be wise and knowledgeable in her conversation and careful in all that she thinks.”

  Much to his surprise, Miss James laughed, her features brightening in a moment. Her eyes twinkled as she looked back at him, her lips pulled wide as she chuckled.

  Michael found himself smiling back, even though he had meant every single word he had said.

  “You are very kind to say so, sir,” Miss James laughed, shaking her head at him. “And mayhap there are such gentlemen out within society—mayhap you are such a gentleman yourself—but I fear that I shall never be able to discover them, since they are so rare. And it is most unlikely that someone such as I shall ever be able to take a hold of something so precious, I think.” Her smile faded, the light in her eyes disappearing almost as quickly as it had come. “But I shall not need to worry about such things for much longer. My brother is throwing a ball for me three days hence. Thereafter, I shall have no requirement to avail myself of society, if I do not wish to.”

  “Oh?” Michael found himself intrigued as to what Miss James meant, even though he knew that he ought not to get involved with her in any way whatsoever. “He is to allow you to become a spinster, then, if you so wish?”

  She laughed but he did not miss the flash of pain in her eyes. “Indeed,” she replied, her gaze drifting away from his for a moment. “At this ball, I must do everything my brother expects. I will converse with and dance with any gentleman he thinks suitable and will accept their compliments with good grace.” Her shoulders slumped, although she forced a lightness to her voice that Michael was certain she did not feel. “He hopes that I will find a decent gentleman, I think, so that a courtship might begin. I, on the other hand, do not feel such hope.”

  Michael frowned, finding that the desire to attend this ball and to dance with Miss James was growing steadily within him. It was a feeling he could not explain and he attempted to ignore it completely so that it could not develop any further. You are simply seeking a way to repay her for all of her kindness, he told himself, as Miss James sighed again. That is all it is. Nothing more.

  “Regardless, once the ball is at an end, I shall be free of my brother’s demands to do he wishes,” she continued, still not looking at him. “He will not push any more gentlemen into my path and will not so much as mention my unmarried state.” A small smile flickered at the corners of her mouth. “And if he does so, then he must court someone of my choosing.”

  Michael blinked and Miss James smiled broadly at his surprise.

  “It is something of consequence, I admit,” she agreed, lifting one shoulder in a half shrug. “But it must be so, if h
e is to make any attempt to prevent himself from doing what he has always done.” Her smile became gentle. “Besides, I think that if he should fail—as I assume he will do—then it may be for his benefit, in the end.”

  “But not for yours?” Michael queried, questioning in his own mind why he was getting so caught up with this Miss James, why he found himself filled with questions over who she was, what she enjoyed and what her intentions were for her brother. There was no need for him to even consider Miss James at all. No need for him to speak to her, to find out what he could about her, or even to allow her concerns to settle in his own heart—and yet he was unable to prevent himself from doing the one thing he knew he should not do.

  “My happiness shall come in the freedom I will have in doing what I wish,” she stated firmly. “In being allowed to live in the way that I please, without the continual pressure from my brother to marry.”

  He nodded slowly, finding his brow furrowing despite his urge not to ask her any further questions. “But what of your future?”

  Miss James hesitated, as if she realized that she was speaking honestly with someone she barely knew and yet found that she wanted to answer him regardless. “I shall be a maiden aunt, I suppose,” she said softly, looking away from him. “My brother must marry one day and will need to produce an heir. If he does not want me to help care for his offspring, then no doubt he will give me this townhouse or some such place and I shall hire a companion and live here happily.”

  “With your books,” Michael commented dryly, one eyebrow lifting as she looked at him sharply. “Come now, Miss James, you cannot believe that such a life will make you happy.”

  She lifted her chin and glared at him, the quiet contentment that had lingered in the room for some minutes evaporating quickly. “I hardly think that you, a stranger who will not so much as give me his name, have any right to suggest that I will not be happy in the very situation I am certain will bring me contentment,” she said coldly. “I am not looking for your blessing, sir. I am not even certain why I am telling you all of these things.” Her voice trailed away, her icy blue eyes becoming uncertain as she looked at him carefully.

  Michael felt his heart quicken and grew angry with himself over such a reaction. There was no possible explanation for such a thing other than the fact that he was drawn to Miss James, even though such a feeling was more than ridiculous. He did not want to be close to her, did not want to think of her as anything more than the young lady who had saved his life out of the goodness of her heart. He had no need to know of her hopes for the future, of her struggles with her brother or her love of reading and learning.

  “You seem to be willing to speak to me about such things, Miss James,” he said, a tad brusquely. “Mayhap you ought to be more careful about what you say and whom you choose to share such intimacies with.”

  A flare of pain crossed her face as she looked at him and Michael felt his own heart twist in his chest. He was being foolish, he told himself sternly, not allowing the pain to make any difference to his determination to ignore what he truly felt. It would be more than foolish to permit himself to think or feel anything more than gratitude towards Miss James. It would be utterly reckless to do so, particularly when he could not be sure what was waiting for him once he recovered and returned home. It was best to put a good deal of distance between himself and Miss James, so that she would not ask anyone about him and certainly would not come searching for him when he quit the house.

  “It seems I must be a good deal more careful in my conversation,” Miss James said, breaking into his thoughts as she rose stiffly from her chair. “You are quite right, sir.” Her expression was hard, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “You are, mayhap, a dangerous man after all. A man able to persuade others to speak honestly and openly without so much as realizing that they are doing it.” A slow flush began to creep into her face as she turned her head away, her shoulders stiff and her back straight. “I have been foolish and allowed myself to fall into your trap, have I not?”

  He wanted to protest that he had done no such thing and that he certainly was not by any means dangerous, but Michael forced his mouth shut and did not answer her.

  “I do not even know why I came to see you,” Miss James continued, her voice quiet and words slow as though she were talking only to herself. “It seems ridiculous now.”

  “I do hope the ball goes well,” he said, as nonchalantly as he could. “Three days, did you say?”

  Her gaze traveled slowly back to his and Michael found himself astonished at the deep regret that was in her eyes, the sadness that seemed to hover about her expression. Had he really managed to bring about such a depth of feeling in only one single conversation?

  Miss James nodded, holding his gaze steadily. “Three days,” she agreed. “Three days until I shall have to put up with gentlemen trying to persuade me that they are wonderful in every way. Three days until I shall be unable to find a single gentleman who considers book learning to be of any benefit to my sex. I think, in that regard, sir, you are original. Although…” She shrugged and looked away. “Perhaps you said such a thing only to enamor yourself to me further.”

  “No.”

  The word came from his mouth before he could prevent it. Miss James looked back at him quickly, a look of hope in her eyes that he could not bring himself to dash. This, it seemed, was why she felt so much grief over his sharp words. She had found in him what she had never been able to discover before: a gentleman who did not think her endeavors into furthering her own knowledge to be something unfavorable.

  “No, I did not say such a thing in order to endear myself to you,” he stated, using her words to reinforce what he meant. “I truly believe that bluestockings are treated poorly by gentlemen and that such a thing should be encouraged instead of looked down on.” He shrugged, twisting his head away from her so that he would not have to look into her eyes. “But what does it matter what I think, Miss James?”

  Her sigh was audible. “Indeed,” she whispered, walking towards the door. “Why does it matter?”

  The door opened and closed behind her and, as it did so, Michael found himself answering her sigh with one of his own. He had not meant to become so caught up with the lady, but her conversation, her manner and her sweet nature had been so endearing that he had found himself speaking to her with such openness that it unnerved him now to think of it.

  “Foolishness,” he muttered, settling himself back against the pillows and wincing at the pain that sliced through his side. “Utter foolishness.”

  Three days.

  The number burned into his mind. In three days, this house would be filled with guests, music and laughter. That would be the perfect time for him to quit the house without being noticed. He would be able to leave without having to speak another word to Miss James and certainly without having to meet Lord Wickton.

  The only question was why did his heart feel so pained at the thought of turning his back on Miss James? And why did he find himself not wanting to be separated from her for good, after what had only been the shortest of acquaintances?

  “Foolishness,” he muttered again, closing his eyes and willing himself to fall back into the warm, welcoming oblivion of sleep.

  4

  Charlotte sighed heavily as her brother walked into the room with what was the biggest smile she had ever seen plastered across his face.

  “You look quite wonderful, my dear,” he beamed, looking at her as though she, too, ought to think this the most exciting evening of her life thus far. “Are you prepared?”

  Charlotte inclined her head, spreading out her arms wide as she looked down at her gown. It was a soft, delicate blue, which complemented her coloring beautifully, even if it revealed a little more of her décolletage than she was used to. Having been assured that this cut was of the highest fashion, Charlotte had not had any other choice but to accept the gown as a gift from her brother for this evening’s ball. Her hair had been brushed until it
shone before being twisted up into the most elegant of styles, with a few loose curls brushing about her temples. Pearls had been threaded through her hair and, along with a few other accompaniments, Charlotte had been forced to admit that she did look refined.

  Not that she considered that to be a blessing in any way whatsoever. Gentlemen who looked upon her as nothing more than a delicate decoration for their arms were not worthy of her consideration.

  “Yes, you are more than ready,” Lord Wickton grinned, his eyes dancing with good humor. “And I must say, I am glad of it, Charlotte.” His smile softened, his expression growing considered. “This has been a difficult few days and I must hope that, very soon, your attention will be on something other than that strange fellow in the bedchamber upstairs.”

  Charlotte frowned. Lord Wickton had been fraught with nerves when she had first told him of what had occurred and had been so angry with what he considered to be her foolish actions, that he had stormed from the house for some hours. He had returned, of course, a good deal less frustrated and much more considered, and had told her in no uncertain terms that the man could remain for a few days until he was well enough to leave the house, whereupon the butler would ensure that the fellow left under the cover of darkness, so as not to bring any sort of rumor upon them both.

  Charlotte had agreed to this at once, of course, although she had completely ignored her brother’s insistence that she not go near the fellow again. She had, in fact, visited him every day for the first three days, only for him to speak to her so sharply that she had not wanted to do so again. That also came with the realization that she had been a good deal more open with the man than she ought, and even now, as she considered him, Charlotte could not say what it was about him that had given her such a sense of security that she had allowed her heart to speak openly.

  “You have not gone to see him, I hope?”

  At her brother’s stern words, Charlotte looked up at him and shook her head, being entirely honest for once. “No, Wickton, I have not.”