by Leenie Brown
“Mr. Pritchard. You were speaking with him while he was getting some lemonade. You wished him to ignore me as I had ignored you.”
Rhett shrugged once again. There was some truth in what she was saying. He did wish for her to feel the treatment she had given to many over the last two years. “Perhaps I did, or perhaps, I just wanted to have you for myself. And, seeing that I have no estate just yet, I thought it necessary to dissuade the competition.”
Caroline attempted to pull her hand away from his arm, but he covered it with his free hand and held it firmly in place as he manoeuvred a very rattled Caroline up the two steps into the pavilion.
“I will have an estate,” he said as he pulled her along. “I have just tonight learned of a prime opportunity, and should I be fortunate enough to find a wife among the ladies gathered here at Burton Hall, I shall not waste a minute in securing it. Indeed, I shall send my intent tomorrow.”
“You are buying an estate?” Caroline realized they had stopped walking and looked about. “Where are we? Where is Hurst?”
“We are in the garden, and I am fairly certain, Hurst is also somewhere in the garden. He is a man of his word, you know, and he did say he was going to take a walk in the garden.” Rhett faced her, and as he expected, Caroline took a step backward. “Do not worry about Hurst. I have his full approbation.” He stepped closer to her and ran his right hand up her right arm. “I think we would suit very well.”
“You cannot know that,” Caroline said, stepping backward again and bumping into a column of stone.
“I can,” he said. “I am very good at deciphering things and am an excellent judge of character most times. In fact, there have been so few times I have been incorrect about a person that you would only need one set of fingers to count them.” He ran his left hand up her left arm so that soon he had both her shoulders in his grip.
“We have only just met.” Caroline attempted to shrug out of his grasp, although even to herself she had to admit it was a weak attempt. There was something very compelling about his eyes and his touch.
He shook his head and chuckled. “No, we met years ago, and I have seen you several times since. And then, I have heard about you from both your sister and Hurst.”
“But we have never spoken.”
“We are speaking now, are we not?”
“No, not exactly. You are holding me in place and telling me things, but that is not speaking. Perhaps after a half hour of canvassing various topics, you will find me dull, and I will find you a bore. And then neither of us will wish to ever speak to the other again.” Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. The way his thumbs were brushing back and forth on her shoulders where he held her was sending delightful little shivers down her spine.
He chuckled and released his hold on her. “I am never a bore,” he said as he moved across the small pavilion to lean against the pillar opposite her. “And I rarely change my mind once I have made it.”
“You seem very sure of yourself.”
He inclined his head in acceptance. “I am, but not without just cause.” He tipped his head. “First topic. The weather. I prefer sunshine or a light shower to fog and you?”
“Fog is rather dreary, and rain is a bother, so sunshine is my favourite weather,” Caroline replied.
He smiled. “I thought so.”
“You did not,” she protested. “You are just saying that now that you know my answer.”
“No,” he shook his head. “You prize your appearance and neither rain nor fog aides a lady in presenting herself to best advantage.”
“A fortunate guess.”
“Town or country?” he asked, ignoring her rebuttal.
Caroline lifted a brow. “You tell me. Which do I prefer, Mr. Rhett?”
He shrugged. “That is easy. Town. For you do sparkle at a soiree. However, as the mistress of your own estate with the means to host dinners and balls, you would soon learn to enjoy the country nearly as much as town, though not entirely as much since there is less chance of a crush in the country and every good hostess lusts after a crush. It is the making of her, they say.” He shrugged. “I prefer the town but am not opposed to taking an estate within a day’s drive of London. Country air can be refreshing, and a good hunt is not to be missed.”
Caroline snapped her lips closed. His reply was accurate. She smiled. “Happiness in marriage,” she said, supplying the next topic of discourse. “Can it be predicted?”
“Do you wish for me to answer for myself or for you?”
Her brows furrowed as she considered his question. She would like to know his thoughts on the matter, but she also wondered if he truly knew her own. “Both,” she finally replied.
“Well,” he said, pushing off the column and approaching her, “I think it can be predicted. Watch how a couple interacts in a ballroom. Is she aloof, and he distracted? Their life will not be a happy one. She will spend all of his money attempting to fill the void she feels at his absence, for he will spend a great amount of time at his clubs and with his mistress. However, if a gentleman is attentive to a lady, and she does not shy away from his touch and blushes at his compliments, they will likely be satisfied with one another and be quite happy.” He leaned against the side of the column and, taking hold of her hand, held it as he continued. “You, on the other hand, think it is merely a coincidence that two people fall into a happily married state, for you do not seek the proper qualifications in a marriage partner.”
She tried to pull her hand away from him, but he would not relinquish it. “I know precisely what qualifications are required for an advantageous marriage.”
He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them softly. “Advantageous is not the same as good.” He kissed her fingers again. “Character is more important than money, for a weak character will either waste his money or cling to it so tightly that he will never get any enjoyment from it.” He smiled at her. “You know this, and it is part of the reason you set your cap at Darcy. He is not only a man of wealth but a man of good character.” He was enjoying the feel of her hand in his as well as the fact that she was not protesting when he pressed his lips against it once again.
“Gossip,” he said as he leaned his head back on the column and gazed out into the cloudless, star-filled sky. “Is it just part of how one must function in society or is it a tool to use to get what you desire or exact revenge?”
“I…I…I believe it is just part of society,” she stammered.
“It is unavoidable then?” he asked, turning for just a moment to look at her before once again gazing out into the near blackness.”I believe it should be avoided most times,” he continued as he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.
She sighed. His thumbs were certainly adept at making her feel quite wonderful.
“Did you enjoy the tales Miss Whimple was telling?” He heard her quick intake of breath at his question. “I thought not, and I dare say, if I were to go back to the house and over a game of billiards share with Mr. Stark how we were alone in this pavilion, you would also not appreciate that, would you?”
“You would do no such thing! Would you?”
He shrugged. “I might.”
“But you said you thought gossip should be avoided,” she argued.
“Most times,” he retorted. “However, there are times when gossip would work in one’s favor, such as, say if one wished to make all other gentlemen shun a lady so that she has no option but to choose him since she only has until next Saturday to secure an offer.”
Caroline gave her hand a firm tug and extracted it from his grip. “That is vicious.”
He turned and leaned sideways on the column so he could see her. “Is it any less barbarous than what you have done to your brother as well as Miss Bennet and her sister?” He smiled as her eyes grew wide. “Hurst told me.”
She scowled and crossed her arms.
“It is not who you are.” He shrugged. “That is why you will find that there may be other gentlemen her
e who will think you welcoming of a bit of a seduction, but they will not be offering for you.”
“What did you do?” She was finding it hard to breathe. “I will be sent to my aunts for good if I do not find a husband.”
He sighed. “I have only done to you what you have done to others. I may have mentioned your roots are in trade — which we know should be below a gentleman’s acceptance.” He shrugged. “But Stark would likely overlook such a thing since his estate is in need of propping up and your twenty thousand would do well for him. So, that is why I might have exaggerated our little collision outside the library earlier and made the comment I did to Miss Blevins. Your reputation is, well,” he smiled and pushed off the column, “precarious.” He stepped in front of her so closely that she could feel his warmth reaching out to her. “How does it feel to be treated so?”
She blinked as tears gathered.
His hands found their way back to her shoulders. “This is how you have made others feel, and I can see from the tears in your eyes that you are not lost to all good sense. That girl who smiled at a manufacturer’s son and talked with respect to a shop girl is still in you.”
She shook her head.
“Yes,” he said, leaning closer, “she is there, and I am rarely wrong about these things.” His lips brushed hers, faintly, softly, like a whisper of the wind that flutters a curtain on a warm summer day. And then, summoning a great deal of fortitude, he moved away. “My offer has already been accepted by Hurst. I have only to ask for your acceptance. Do you think we will suit?” He placed a finger on her lips to keep her from replying. “It matters not, for I know we shall. And I am rarely wrong, and I am even less likely to change my mind.”
He stood back and offered her his arm. “I will ask you properly in three day’s time. That should be long enough for you to know that I am indeed correct.”
“You are very sure or yourself, ” she finally said. They had made it nearly from the pavilion and back to the path before she found her voice as her senses had been thoroughly overwhelmed first by his closeness, then by his light kiss, and finally by his finger on her lips and the intense look in his eyes as he spoke.
He lifted her fingers to his lips once again, and after kissing them, replied, “I am, but not without just cause.” He smiled at her look of consternation and then led her back along the path toward the house.
Chapter 5
“Mr. Rhett has been at your side at every turn,” Louisa said two days later as she climbed up on the bed next to Caroline. “And tomorrow is the third day since his overtures in the garden.” She placed a pillow between her back and the bedpost so that she could rest against it with more comfort. “Will you accept his offer?”
Caroline had, of course, been required to tell her sister all that had happened in the garden. “If he is going to purchase an estate in a timely manner, then yes, I believe I will accept.”
Louisa hugged her knees tightly and squealed softly. It was late, or perhaps she might have been more vocal in her delight. “Hurst assures me that he is indeed purchasing an estate. Letters have been sent, and the agreement should not be far off.”
“That is what Mr. Rhett has told me as well,” said Caroline. “He seems to understand the importance of such things. It is a good quality to find in a gentleman.”
“Do you like or, perhaps, love him?” Louisa tipped her head and studied her sister’s face.
Caroline fidgeted. She had been considering that very fact. She knew in reality that she had no options open to her since the other gentlemen in attendance had shown her very little attention, and what they had shown had either been a haughty demeanor or a winking eye with a wish to find a secluded corner.
“It matters not,” Caroline replied. “I must have a husband by the end of this party, and I do not see another stepping forward.”
Louisa gasped, and her mouth dropped open. “But would you wish for another to step forward. Has not Mr. Rhett been kind and attentive? Has he not shown you respect and stared down at least two men who have spoken to you meanly?”
Caroline would have liked to have forgotten about the comments Mr. Pritchard and Mr. Thompson had made about her. She neither liked being referred to as a shrew or a pleasant way to warm your bed. She was not intended to hear the comments, but she had, and Rhett had been at her side and heard them as well.
“I thought it very likely that he was going to call one or the other out, and, I can tell you,” Louisa leaned forward and whispered, “for I have sneaked a peek at the men while they are training in the morning, that I do not think any man would stand a chance against Mr. Rhett. He is very adept with a sword.”
Caroline smiled. Her sister was not the only one who had dared to catch a glimpse of the gentleman as they sparred. Rhett did cut a fine figure. “While I can admire his swordsmanship, it does not necessitate that I love or even like him.” Did it? She had spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about him and writing the letter R in her notebook.
“Do you not think you would suit?” Louisa asked.
“Whether one suits or does not suit does not indicate love either,” Caroline retorted and then sighed. “I like him very much, I suppose. We have not lacked topics of conversation, and I have enjoyed talking with him, even if he is always telling me what I think.”
And he was so often right. It was as if he understood everything about her. The thought had been unsettling at first, but now, it was beginning to feel rather comforting. No other person had ever understood her desire for acceptance. Why else had she listened so closely to what her aunt said? Why else had she behaved just as her friends at school told her she should? Why else did she lash out when she felt she was being forced away or left behind? It was because she craved acceptance.
“He is handsome,” she continued, “and financially sound, and soon, he shall be in possession of an estate. His taste in music mirrors my own, and though he does not find art to be of great interest, he has a discriminating eye. I should think he would allow me to decorate a home as I saw fit without imposing anything garish or gauche. Every jacket he has worn has been of fine quality, and his manners while eating are not disturbing like Mr. Stark’s.”
Louisa giggled. “I do not know why Mr. Stark thinks we all wish to see the contents of his mouth as he eats.”
“Nor do I,” Caroline responded with a light laugh. “Do you think Mr. Rhett and I are a good match?” A flutter of nerves danced in her chest and caused her head to feel slightly light as she waited for her sister’s response. It seemed very important for some reason that Louisa approved of Mr. Rhett. Caroline already knew that Hurst approved, but he would have approved of any gentleman who had offered just to be rid of her. He had not been backward in letting her know such was true.
There was a tap at the door, and Louisa climbed off of the bed and scurried across the room to answer it. “I do. I truly do,” she said before she pulled the door open.
“Mrs. Hurst,” said Rhett with a smile. “Your husband instructed me to relay a message to you since I would be passing Miss Bingley’s room on the way to mine. He said to inform you that he has played his last hand and wishes to retire.”
“Oh, very good. I thank you and shall go to him directly in a moment.” She smiled. “Have a pleasant night, Mr. Rhett.”
“Good night to you as well, my dear,” he said with a wink, causing her to giggle as she closed the door.
“I must go to Hurst, but I also do wish you to know how exceedingly happy I am for you, Caroline.” She bent and gave her sister a kiss on the forehead. “I shall see you in the morning so that I can help you pick the gown that will make Mr. Rhett the happiest of men to be accepted by such a woman as you.” She tucked the blankets around Caroline, and with one last soft kiss to her sister’s forehead, considered her duties done for the night and left to go to her own room.
~*~*~
Caroline followed her sister from the breakfast room to the garden. The sun was shining brightly, and ther
e was a dry, gentle breeze fluttering the petals of the flowers and rustling the leaves of the trees. The ladies of the party were gathered on a knoll with their chaperones not far away, keeping an eye on the gentlemen as they wandered through the garden and made their way to where their charges sat. Caroline stood at the bottom of the knoll, wishing she did not have to go sit with the other ladies, but Louisa had thought it best. Mr. Rhett would surely look for her there, Louisa has assured her.
He had not been in the breakfast room that morning, and she had not seen him return with the men who had been out riding, and now as she took a tentative seat on the edge of the group of young ladies, she did not see him with the other gentlemen.
She plucked a blade of grass and wound it around her finger and then unwound it as she glanced expectantly back at the house. Perhaps Mr. Rhett was talking with Hurst. He seemed to enjoy spending time with her sister’s husband. It was a good thing, she supposed, since that would guarantee her frequent visits from Louisa. Her heart pinched. She would miss Charles as he would likely never darken her door. She sighed and plucked another blade of grass. That is, he would likely never darken her door unless she apologized. But how could she? It would be entirely too humiliating to have to lower oneself to beg forgiveness from Charles’s wife and Mrs. Darcy.
“Miss Bingley, you are looking thoughtful,” said Mr. Stark, “and that shade of yellow does you justice like no other shade might.”
Caroline lifted a brow at his obvious flattery. “Thank you,” she said.
“I am promised to Miss Blevins for a stroll through the roses, but perhaps later, we might have our turn and a private conversation.”
Caroline’s brows furrowed at the emphasis he put on the words private conversation. “A stroll would be lovely, but it must be had in public with my sister in attendance.”