The Accidental Elopement (Scandalous Miss Brightwells Book 4)

by Beverley Oakley

  “Oh, Eliza.” Fanny squeezed her friend’s hands. “That’s a hard thing to live with.”

  “When I waved him off at the docks, I knew I’d made a mistake. But it was too late.”

  “Then tell him.”

  Eliza nodded. “I shall…when the time is right.”

  “I hope that’s sooner rather than later,” said Fanny. “And Rufus and Jack…they are still on good terms?”

  “Tremendous!” Eliza smiled. “Jack has always looked up to Rufus and was so determined to make him proud. Which he has done. Jack is the greatest comfort to both of us and the most wonderful of brothers to the younger ones who all adore him, though, of course, Theodosia doesn’t remember him because she was only a baby when he left. And perhaps it’s because I was too involved with a new baby that I failed to read Jack’s mood, though nothing would have changed his mind about going. Even falling in love.”

  “Jack fell in love before he left? Did he know Miss Worthington then?”

  It was Antoinette who asked the question, her eyes gleaming as she breezed into the room and took a seat opposite her sister and friend. She was dressed for walking and Fanny noticed there were leaves in her elaborately coiffured hair. No doubt her sister had been indulging in the attentions of her latest lover. “Do tell! Who was he in love with?” Antoinette’s eyes sparkled and Fanny reflected that her sister had never truly had her heart broken. Loving men, collectively, seemed enough for her.

  “Perhaps Katherine knows,” Antoinette went on. “She and Jack have always been such good friends. And on that subject, do tell me Jack’s going to visit Katherine and try and cheer her up. She’s taken this business about Lord Derry very hard.”

  “Lord Derry?” Eliza’s brow creased, and Fanny felt her daughter’s embarrassment personally.

  “He’s the reason I’m so concerned about Katherine as I hinted in my letter.” Fanny looked sadly at her friend. “Katherine’s name has been linked with Lord Derry in a…romantic sense, though she strenuously insists that the rumours are unfounded and there’s been no wrongdoing on her part.” She sighed. “Poor Katherine seems to have lurched from one disaster to another ever since that ill-advised marriage of hers.” She glanced at Antoinette, who had the grace to look slightly chastened, for Fanny still found it hard to forgive her sister for aiding and abetting Katherine’s youthful infatuation before she’d properly come to know the man.

  Antoinette looked past Fanny’s censorious look and said, “At least Katherine has darling Diana to dote on. She’s such a comfort and so grown up for her six years. So, regardless of the gossip that Katherine and Lord Derry were carrying on a clandestine romance while Lord Marples still lived”

  “Antoinette, how dare you!” Fanny exclaimed.

  Antoinette shrugged. “I’m not saying it’s true. I’m just saying what everyone else is saying, whether or not they believe it, and that is that Lord Derry provided Katherine with the kind of comfort her husband certainly did not when he was losing a king’s ransom at the gaming tables and consorting with a line-up of unsuitable women. But, as always, the woman is blamed.”

  The sound of a door banging and loud, masculine footsteps had them all turning as George, flinging himself through the door, said, “Oh, Mama, you really are too much!”

  “And you, Young George, have no right to speak to your mother so rudely,” Antoinette rebuked her tall, bulky son who was now striding towards the sideboard. “Use your manners. You’ve not seen Mrs Patmore for more than a year, and I don’t believe you’ve called on Jack, either, when you were once such firm friends.”

  “Indeed I have, Mama. Mrs Patmore.” He bowed, rising with a satisfied smile. “I met Jack and his intended at the theatre last night and might I say how charming I found Miss Worthington. The pair of them were simply smelling of April and May, as they say.”

  Eliza settled back in her chair, a look of contentment overlaying her previous concern. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am that he’s found himself the perfect wife. Jack always had such impossibly high standards. I think he was seeking a goddess of purity.”

  She realised her error when Antoinette giggled, adding hastily, “That’s not that I don’t think Miss Worthington a creature who clearly combines purity in addition to the natural traits of liveliness that his original angel might have lacked.” Her smile broadened as she took in Fanny’s quirked mouth. “I’m very well satisfied,” she finished.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear it,” said Fanny. “Now we just have to find someone who’ll make Katherine happy. When the time is right,” she added with an arch look. “She has at least another four months to wait before she can decently wed.” Remembering George was in their midst and perhaps such free talk was unwise, she glanced up at him. While she’d never much cared for her sister’s son, he didn’t seem vengeful and malicious in the same way as his supposed uncle, George Bramley. He and Katherine and Jack had played together as children—not always harmoniously, but well enough. And George had developed a real fondness for Katherine in adulthood which was comforting, even if Katherine didn’t return his feelings. At least she had someone looking to her interests.

  George, intercepting her look, nodded. “Don’t worry, Aunt; I’ll watch over Katherine.”

  And despite his oily face and resemblance to the man who had sired him, that odious George Bramley whom Fanny knew would love any opportunity to bring her—and her daughter—down, she felt she had no choice but to believe him. George, she decided as she looked at him again, was harmless. As the future Earl of Quamby, he had no concerns when it came to money. His position and comfort were uncontested, and he would find any number of women only too delighted to fulfil the position of the future Countess of Quamby.

  Having George’s patronage, Fanny decided, could only be in Katherine’s best interests now that Katherine was a widow again and in need of a man to smooth the way for her, given the latest scandal with Lord Derry.

  Chapter 18

  Jack had been in England a week, and he was uncomfortably aware of the fact he still hadn’t called on Katherine at home. Each time he declared to Odette that it was his duty to his old friend to find out how she did and nominated a time or date, Odette would remind him of some competing social event to which they’d been invited, half of which he was sure she’d just fabricated.

  But Odette was so vibrant and full of loving energy, and he certainly didn’t want to disappoint her again; not when he’d been back in the country such a short time. Women’s tears were not something he was used to, so he’d not known what to do when, two days earlier, Odette had stared at him as if he’d announced he was going to Outer Mongolia when, in fact, he’d simply told her he intended going to Boodles where he proposed to be a member with the sponsorship of Lord Dingley. First her lip had trembled, then she’d covered her face with her hands and sunk onto the sofa, choking on sobs as she’d declared that such talk signalled the beginning of the end; that Jack obviously intended to no sooner wed her than he’d be off drinking and gaming with the men, and she’d be abandoned to while away her evenings alone when she’d only just got her darling Jack back.

  This evening was surprised, however, when Odette reminded him they’d been invited to call in on Ladies Fenton and Quamby. Disappointed, he countered that they’d be abed at such a late hour.

  “No, they won’t. They’ll be in the midst of Lady Quamby’s birthday feast.”

  “I can’t call uninvited if there’s a family celebration,” Jack told her.

  “We were invited, don’t you remember?” Odette put her hand on his wrist and said sweetly, “Only, we already had tickets to the opera tonight.”

  Jack was absolutely certain he’d not have turned down an opportunity to attend a Quamby family event which would include Katherine, who was not seen much in society, but he said nothing. Even if he had already secured tickets to the opera. Perhaps he’d simply not been attending properly to Odette’s chatter. She chattered a lot about social events, and h
e’d found it was easier to allow her to direct their social activities when she had so much to organise in the lead-up to their wedding. His mother had advised him that Odette was quite capable of making the right decisions as to who they should or shouldn’t ‘know’.

  Jack was pleased at how much his mother approved of his new wife-to-be. It certainly made life more harmonious, and it was in his nature to desire harmony first, which inevitably led to domestic comfort in all spheres.

  As he looked down at her glossy russet hair decorated with pearls, then was met by her limpid loving gaze as they waited on the doorstep to be admitted to Lord Quamby’s, he made a point of reminding himself that she was indeed the perfect wife.

  Two steps behind was Odette’s spinster cousin, who, in her early thirties, could have been an elder sister and who was quite happy to stand in as chaperone when Odette’s aunt was disinclined. As the cousin allowed them great licence, which included kisses and cuddles, Jack knew he really was very fortunate when it came to his future. He’d been regaled many a horror story of men finding themselves saddled with harpies or frigid misses no sooner than the knot was tied. After so many years of being alone, Jack knew when to count his blessings.

  “Jack! What an unexpected pleasure!” Lady Fenton and her sister greeted him in the drawing room as they were clearly enjoying the aftermath of a small party.

  All the men were there: the old earl, deep in conversation with a handsome young man, deeply tanned and clearly not from England, joined by Lord Fenton. Young George was instantly at his side, offering him and Odette refreshment, with Lord Derry in his wake.

  Jack had heard from Odette who’d heard it from others that Lord Derry was simply waiting for Katherine to have been widowed a sufficiently decent time before he became her new husband. And Katherine, who was obviously as headstrong as ever if she’d been prepared to defy society by appearing at a ball in widow’s weeds, clearly held a candle to the tall, handsome viscount. Just as she had to Freddy Marwick…and to Jack before him.

  Nevertheless, Jack would have liked to hear her thoughts on marriage, directly. He could envisage her characteristically pert and humorous response to any question that suggested her behaviour was less than exemplary.

  So he was disappointed to hear that Katherine had already turned in for the night.

  Odette, who’d wanted only to look in quickly, looked suddenly very comfortable as she was brought into discussion by Lady Fenton. Jack, alone for a moment, was just contemplating the fact that good manners require that he join Lord Derry and George by the sideboard on the far end of the room when, to his right, he noticed the door slowly open.

  His heartbeat accelerated as he thought perhaps Katherine had heard he was in the house and had come to look in, but instead of seeing Katherine’s lively face emerge at shoulder level, a pert, bright-eyed miniature emerged at thigh level.

  The little girl cast a furtive look around the room before she widened her eyes at Jack, then smiled, putting her finger to her lips.

  “Don’t tell anyone,” she whispered. “I’m supposed to be in bed.”

  “Of course you are,” Jack whispered back. “Little girls are supposed to be in bed long before midnight.”

  “I’m not a little girl,” she countered. “I’m six. I’m Oh, drat! Aunt Antoinette’s seen me!”

  “Diana! Naughty child, you should be fast asleep!” said Aunt Antoinette fondly, leaving her husband’s side and coming across to Jack, putting out her hand to take her niece’s.

  No one else in the room seemed to have noticed them. “Come along now. And Jack, I’m sorry Katherine wasn’t here to see you. She’ll be disappointed. I know she was hoping you’d call on her, but she understands how busy you’ve been. She just feels rather dreary having to languish in widow’s weeds when everyone else is having fun.”

  Lady Quamby’s words didn’t conjure up an image of Katherine actively pining for her late husband, and Jack felt a frisson of satisfaction at the knowledge.

  “I’m sorry I missed her, too,” he said. “I only saw her for two minutes at Lady Garwood’s ball the other night.”

  Antoinette clicked her tongue. “Katherine’s as naughty as her daughter. I told her she ought not to have gone. It’s done nothing for her reputation, which was completely ruined by that dreadful husband of hers. I know I’m not one to talk, but I’m also a great deal older and in very different circumstances. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll take Diana back to bed.” She hesitated, half through the door, and then added as she noticed Jack’s aloneness, “Perhaps you’d be interested to see the painting Lord Marples commissioned of Katherine just before his untimely death. It’s a very good likeness and it’s hanging in the library just up the corridor. Take the candle on the sideboard there and follow me.”

  Jack, who had no desire to join George and Lord Derry, was more than happy to slip out of the room in Antoinette’s wake bearing the single candlestick.

  Obediently, he followed the older woman and the child until Lady Quamby pointed to a door on her right. “It’s through there,” she said. “I’d be interested in your opinion. I think the painting is too regal, but Lord Marples thought it depicted her as just the wife he wanted her to be. Modest and obedient.”

  Not the way Jack thought of Katherine. He entered the dark room, closed the door behind him and took a few steps into the centre to contemplate the painting. It was enormous, located above the mantelpiece and, indeed, regal. He thought Katherine’s expression was wistful, and was suddenly brought to mind of the times he’d find her contemplating some outlandish plan. The moment she’d turn at the sound of his footsteps her natural liveliness would flood her countenance, and she’d grip his hands and describe some fiendish activity in which to embroil George, or else a wonderful adventure into which she’d roped Cook who would have prepared a basket of cakes and pies so they could be out all day.

  Raising his candle higher as a great wave of wistfulness enveloped him, he was suddenly conscious of movement. Then the partly opened window rattled in the breeze, and his light went out.

  He stood still a few moments, enjoying the darkness and the silence while his thoughts continued in the direction they’d happily been dwelling upon—Katherine.

  Returning to London and seeing her so changed had been confusing. He wished he’d had the opportunity to quiz her on the speed with which she’d eloped with Marwick. Surely she knew it would be wounding to Jack, regardless of the fact they both had released any hold one had over the other.

  Jack wouldn’t have pledged himself so quickly to another, and he was surprised Katherine had.

  Still, there was no accounting for the way in which the heart worked; he knew that well enough. The passion he felt for Katherine was dangerous; destined to end in disaster—her impetuosity and his pride would make poor bedfellows. How often had he tried to convince himself of this over the past seven years?

  But Odette’s pliant nature and willingness to please was everything a husband could wish for.

  Wasn’t it?

  A gentle breeze was blowing papers from a writing desk. He could hear but not see, and took a step towards the window, colliding with a solid bulk that suddenly materialised in the very centre of the room.

  It was a person—a woman he ascertained from her gasp and the slight shoulders he gripped to steady both of them.

  But as he breathed in the scent of peonies, and his hands contoured the familiar collarbone and then, without realising what he was doing, the swanlike neck, he knew exactly who she was.

  He did not drop his hands. Rather, he tightened his grip. Tightened it as, unthinkingly, he drew her against him; then, just as unthinkingly, dipped his head. In the darkness, robbed of vision, he had no idea what he was doing or what to expect, but when his mouth encountered a pair of soft, pliant, delicate lips flowering beneath his own, it was only natural to take matters in the same direction they’d been going before his travels seven years before.

  She melted agains
t him, and gently he contoured the silken softness of her hair before he cupped the back of her head and deepened the kiss.

  Her arms twined behind his neck as she pressed her delicate, beautifully formed body against his then softly breathed out—a sound of contentment, which made every nerve and fibre of his being tense with anticipation.

  This was what love was. The heady intoxication that made a man so ready to become, without thought or reason, a slave to his desires. For seven years, Jack had been a slave to duty, honour, and toil, but in this moment, he’d have sacrificed everything to extend the dreamlike, mystical wonder of rediscovering what it was like to be utterly in thrall to a being so much more precious than life itself.

  Jack drew Katherine more firmly against him as the flame within him exploded, and his mind was alive only to the sensations evoked by touching her face, her hair, her exquisite, achingly familiar body.

  Wrapped in each other’s arms, they orbited in a dark, mystical, magical solar system, where sensory exploration was the only reality in the absence of sight.

  Then sound became the chatter in the corridor, and the door was thrown open, light seeping into the room as a sconce of candles was held high.

  “Goodness!”

  He wasn’t sure who said it. It could have been Katherine, Odette, or either of the Brightwell sisters.

  Struck dumb by guilt and embarrassment, Jack could only admire Katherine’s composure as she blinked sleepily, saying, “Good Lord, was that you, Jack? I stumbled when the candle went out. Did you know, I’d fallen asleep on the sofa here after we had tea, Mama. And that was hours ago!”

  She rubbed her eyes and smiled at everyone before self-consciously tidying her hair. “I must look a fright. But Jack! It’s so good to see you again. And Miss Worthington, you look perfectly lovely in rose pink. Where have you been to this evening? The opera, perhaps?”