Mistaken Kiss: A Humorous Traditional Regency Romance (My Notorious Aunt Book 2)

by Kathleen Baldwin

  Willa looked up at him, her spectacle-rimmed eyes brimming with concern. “I should have done something.”

  “You certainly tried.” Alex felt an inexplicable urge to hug her to his chest and stroke his hand over her strawberry tresses. But he resisted.

  She shook her head, and those ridiculous red curls fluttered like weightless springs on the breeze. “His father blames me. He said I upset Georgie and that’s why he lost the fight.” Willa’s eyes pleaded with him to tell her it wasn’t so.

  Alex smiled reassuringly. “No. He never stood a chance. Scroggins has been knocking out big fellows since he was a lad of twelve. It had nothing to do with you.”

  He gave her shoulders another awkward pat. Comforting do-gooders was not his long suit. She leaned into him, and what could he do? He gulped down his awkwardness and attempted to console her. Silly, he shouldn’t let this wisp of a girl affect him. His taste ran to ballerinas and widows who could fend for themselves. He let go of her and cleared his throat.

  “Your aunt ordered me to fetch you. Rather like a dog sent after a stick. Should I fail to return promptly with you in tow, I’m mortally afraid she’ll whip me across the nose with her umbrella.” He grinned and held out his arm.

  Willa placed her hand on his sleeve and walked beside him, wishing desperately that she were not spattered with mud and rotten fruit.

  Chapter 3

  Some Like It Hot, Some Like It Cold

  “AUNT HONORE, you cannot be serious. You can’t just give away our mule.”

  “Oh, but I can. I saw you struggling on the road with this deplorable beast. Good heavens, child, my coach nearly ran you over, and all because of this worthless donkey. I’ll give him to the first passerby before I allow you to drive him home.”

  “No, my lady! My brother would have a fit. Then there is the rig to consider. How would I get it home? Pull it myself? Besides, Euripides is not a donkey. He’s a mule—Jerome’s mule. And considerably more expensive than a donkey.”

  “Bah!” Honore waved her hand in the air, erasing Willa’s arguments. “Mule, donkey, who cares? I’ll reimburse Jerome. He needs new equipage anyway.”

  Alex folded his arms across his chest and leaned against a tree while Willa argued with her aunt. Honore stabbed the air with her parasol, leveling it at a passerby, a heavyset young buck. “You there. Yes, you. Do you see this ridiculously fat creature? I’ll give you—”

  Honore indicated the mule by rapping her parasol on Euripides backside. Willa looked from her aunt to Euripides just in time to see the beast’s eyes widen and roll back in his head.

  “Look out!” Willa lunged for her aunt and pushed her out of the way. Euripides brayed and kicked up his hind legs. He whirled around bucking in every direction. The prospective owner jumped clear of the enraged animal and walked off shaking his head.

  Honore hid behind a tree. She straightened from her crouching position. “Good heavens! That demented animal nearly killed me. Shoot it.”

  “Nonsense! You poked him with your umbrella. He’s a perfectly lovely mule, and he belongs to my brother and me. You have no right to sell him or shoot him.” Willa planted her hands firmly on her hips.

  “A lovely mule? That, my dear, is a contradiction in terms.” She waggled her hand cautiously at Euripides. The beast in question stopped braying and once again chewed contentedly on grass and weeds.

  Alex approached the squabbling women and cleared his throat. “Much as I am loath to put an end to this entertaining debate, may I offer a solution?”

  Both women turned to him without saying a word. Honore’s eyebrows narrowed skeptically, and Willa looked at him like an expectant teacher ready to pounce on her pupil should he make a wrong answer. He smiled in an obvious attempt to disarm them.

  “I’ll be happy to tie my mount to the rear of Miss Linnet’s cart and drive her back to the vicarage. I believe I can manage the ‘demented’ beast.” He nodded toward Euripides, grazing placidly a few feet away.

  Honore’s eyebrows snapped back into place. “Very well. Yes. That will answer nicely. Thank you, Mr. Braeburn, and of course, you must stay at the vicarage and dine with us.”

  Willa’s jaw tightened as her aunt made free with the vicarage’s hospitality. She thought better of it when Alex nodded his acceptance. Her face relaxed, and she couldn’t hold in the smile that spread across her features. She would be able to savor his company for the next several hours. She had her interfering aunt to thank for that. She glanced down at her mother’s good rose silk, ruined. If only she were not spattered with mud and rotten fruit.

  * * *

  Lady Alameda stepped into her carriage, and the coachman shut the black lacquered door behind her.

  “Well?”

  Before answering her traveling companion’s question, Honore settled herself on the velvet squabs and tapped her umbrella against the ceiling. The coach lurched forward.

  Mattie asked again. “What did ye think of her?”

  Honore laughed and clapped her hands together. “Priceless. She’s priceless. Oh, Mattie, what fun we will have. She already has an attachment. Young Alex Braeburn. I can’t remember what I heard about him. It will come to me. An interesting fellow who may prove to be almost as diverting as my antiquated niece.”

  Mattie’s tongue clucked as she shook her head. “Don’t tell me ye’re up to yer games again? Honore, sweeting, remember last season an’ poor Fiona. I doubt the poor dear has recovered even yet. Ye must promise not to carry things too far this time.”

  “Bah, don’t make such a fuss. I only carry things as far as they need to go. Anyway, last I heard, Fiona was rusticating in the country, great with child. No doubt, Wesmont hovers over her like a wet nurse. All very tedious if you ask me.

  On the other hand, our little Wilhemina hasn’t a tedious bone in her body. This should prove an amusing arrangement.”

  “Amusing? I knew it. Ye are at yer games. Here I thought ye wanted a young lady to train and mold into the daughter you never had, someone to love you when I am dead an’ gone. I’m getting old, Honore. Ken ye not see the gray hairs in me old head?”

  Honore’s knee bobbed restlessly up and down. She drew in a loud breath and exhaled. “Stop badgering me, Mattie. I’ll do as I please.”

  “Aye. That’s what worries me.”

  * * *

  Willa sat next to Alex on the small seat of the dogcart. There was so little room on the seat that Willa’s shoulder and thigh came in frequent contact with his. Each time she brushed against him and felt the hardness of his muscles, she grew more tense. She felt like leaping from the cart and running away as fast as she could. She also felt like throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him violently.

  Both actions were, of course, unacceptable. Instead, she prayed that he could not smell the fermented fruit on her dress as readily as she could.

  “I must smell ghastly.” She tried to sound sophisticated. When that failed, she experimented with a giggle. She was unaccustomed to giggling. It sounded false, flat, and silly. She was not the silly sort. She made a mental note not to try that again.

  Alex leaned toward her and sniffed her shoulder. He wrinkled his nose and sat back. “Yes, Miss Linnet, I believe you have gone off. You will have to feed that dress to the chickens.”

  He smiled, but Willa didn’t feel like smiling back. She was sitting next to, quite possibly, the most dashing man she could ever hope to meet, and he thought she smelled like something that should be thrown to the chickens. She adjusted her glasses and glared at the road ahead. She felt his shoulders quiver. The cad was laughing at her.

  “I see I’ve offended you. What a great simpleton I am. Pardon my manners. I should have said that you smell like a fine wine, ripening with age.”

  Willa tilted her nose even farther into the air and ignored him.

  Alex laughed aloud. Euripides stopped stiff in his tracks, lifted his tail, and emitted a noisy puff of gas before walking on. Alex flicked the traces. “
At least you smell better than that.”

  “How kind you are.” Willa crossed her arms across her bosom. “You must stop flattering me, Mr. Braeburn. I fear you shall make me swoon.”

  “I seriously doubt you’re the swooning type.”

  “You’re probably right. Apparently I lack any of the maidenly arts.”

  Alex cast a sidelong glance at Willa’s shapely torso. Memories of her innocent kisses warmed his blood. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

  Willa blushed.

  He grinned.

  She decided to introduce a new subject, one less personal. “My aunt is an unusual woman, is she not?”

  “Unusual? Yes. Although, I don’t know if ‘unusual’ adequately describes her. I might have chosen a word like overbearing.”

  “I apologize for her behavior. She ought not to have ordered you about as she did.”

  “One must make allowances. After all, I did meet the woman whilst her niece was slung over my shoulder. It’s quite possible we got off to a wrong start.”

  “I suppose. On the other hand, I have it on good authority that Aunt Honore is mad as a hatter.”

  “London is full of eccentric ladies. It’s the goal of many older women to be esteemed an original. Your aunt more than qualifies.”

  “If older ladies want to be viewed as originals, why is it drummed into the head of every young woman that she must not behave in an exceptional manner? Indeed, it is high praise to be esteemed as unexceptional. A commendation I have yet to earn.”

  “You are assuming the haute ton is rational. Let me assure you, London society is anything but sensible.”

  “You seem sensible enough.”

  “Ah, but just yesterday you decided I was a rake, a gambler, and a scapegrace. Hardly a pattern card for sensibility.”

  She stared at him for a minute, unable to find a ready answer. True, she’d ascribed each of those attributes to him. He probably deserved each characteristic. Yet she felt small for having said so. He was also witty and likable, intelligent and caring. He had rescued her from the fruit throwers and now he was driving her home to prevent Aunt Honore from giving Euripides away. Further to the point, Euripides was actually clipping along instead of dawdling like a tortoise.

  “How did you get Euripides to trot? He never trots.”

  Alex laughed. “I’d like to say it’s my irresistible charm. I could pretend it’s my superior horsemanship. But, I suspect old Euripides is showing off for my mare.”

  As if on cue, the mare tied behind the cart whickered. Euripides’s ears perked up. He tossed his head to the side as if he was trying to catch a glimpse of Alex’s horse.

  “See what I mean?”

  “It’s absurd, but yes. My foolish mule is flirting with your mare.”

  “Absurd? Foolish? Since Adam met Eve, males have been doing things they wouldn’t otherwise do, just so they can stare at a pretty face.”

  Alex flashed her his one-sided, dimpled grin, and Willa’s breath caught in her throat. She fought to keep the heat from rising in her cheeks. Do not act like a silly schoolgirl.

  She shifted uncomfortably, searching for a suitable rejoinder. Her eyes lit on his horse trotting behind them. The large chestnut mare had a handsome white blaze down her slender nose. It contrasted nicely against her dark red color.

  Willa cleared her throat. “To Euripides’s credit, your mare is very pretty.”

  “Thank you.” Alex grinned mischievously. “I think so, too. I admire red hair on females.”

  That was too much. Her cheeks flushed unbearably hot. She knew she look like a big orange yam. Willa clasped her hands together and plunked them into her lap. “You are truly insufferable.”

  “Insufferable? You wound me. I merely meant to compliment you.”

  “Ha! You were toying with me. You know as well as I do that red hair is considered disagreeable. You must think it is great sport to make me blush. Well, don’t gloat overmuch, Mr. Braeburn—”

  “Alex.”

  “Mr. Braeburn. I turn red easily. After all, I am a provincial. Not one of your sophisticated London ladies, of which I’m sure you have many. I rarely receive any flattery. When I do, it is always directed at my intelligent conversation. Never my appearance. I cannot be held responsible for my foolish blushes.” She smoothed down her skirts and tilted up her chin. “Let me assure you, my mind is not as easily gulled as my cheeks are.”

  “Hmm. Do you mean to tell me your mind does not influence that scarlet color climbing up your cheeks?” He studied her with mock seriousness.

  She shook her head and repressed, with difficulty, the urge to smile.

  He turned his attention back to the reins. “If you expect me to apologize, you’ll be waiting till doomsday. We insufferable barbarians compliment anyone we please.”

  Willa clapped her hands over her face. The man was outside of enough. A barbarian making compliments, indeed. Her nervousness and embarrassment, combined with his flummery and ludicrous arguments, created a bubbling stew inside her. Her shoulders started to shake. When they did, she erupted in laughter.

  Suddenly, it didn’t matter to Willa that she stunk to high heaven. She relaxed. The sunshine gently warmed her, the grass and flowers glowed vividly, and the sky was a magnificent gold-tinged blue. St. Cleves looked like the most inviting village in all of Britain. For a few brief moments, all was right with the world.

  Then, the dogcart rolled to a stop in front of the vicarage, and Willa’s heart sank. Now, it would all end.

  Alex would dine with them. Afterwards, he would wave farewell and return to London, back into the arms of his exotic paramours. Visions of veiled women with almond-shaped eyes danced in her head.

  She must collect her straying wits.

  Chapter 4

  Little Bo Peep Has Lost Her Sense

  AGGIE STOMPED into Willa’s bedchamber. “I cannot abide that woman!”

  Willa squeezed her wet hair over a copper basin and looked up. “Aunt Honore?”

  “Well, I don’t like her much neither. But I’m meaning that great hulking Scotswoman, Mattie. I’m going to run her through with a carving knife if she don’t get out of my kitchen. She’s the bossiest creature I ever did see. ‘My mistress don’t like cabbage. My mistress can’t eat shellfish. Here, let me show ye how to fix them quail.’ I’ll run her through, that’s what I’ll do.”

  “Those quail.” Willa wrapped a towel around her hair. “Do try to get along, Aggie. It’s just for one evening. I’m sure Aunt Honore plans to leave first thing in the morning.”

  Aggie folded her arms across her chest and tapped her toe. “At least, give me permission to throw her maid out of my kitchen.”

  “I don’t know, Aggie. Perhaps the woman might teach you how to make some of those fancy dishes they serve in London.”

  “Humph. Nothing wrong with good Suffolk cooking,” Aggie muttered under her breath. “That Scottish cow isn’t going to teach me anything.”

  Willa plopped down on the bed and looked forlornly at the wardrobe doors. “I wish I had something beautiful to wear tonight.”

  “Your closet is full of lovely gowns.”

  “Yes, but twenty years out of fashion. You should have seen all the fine-looking ladies today. Their dresses were so unencumbered and elegant.”

  “You mean French-like and indecent. Londoners is wicked folk, and you would do well to remember it, miss.”

  “Londoners are wicked,” Willa corrected softly, but Aggie had already marched out of the room. Willa sat alone on the bed, trying to figure out what she would wear to dinner. Which dress would he like the best? It shouldn’t matter. He would leave, and she would never see him again. What did it matter what she wore?

  Except it did matter. She did care. No sense lying to oneself. She still remembered the feel of his lips, of his hands on her waist. Suddenly, she knew which dress.

  When she finally approached the stairway leading to the parlor, it was with great trepidation. She had coil
ed her wet hair on her head and donned her mother’s blue silk. It had a narrow waist that Willa barely squeezed into. She had tightened her corset so much that she could only breathe from the top of her lungs. Unfortunately, the wide collar flattened her breasts so severely they oozed up like bread dough. She covered them by draping a lace shawl around her neck and tucking into the collar. The gown was too short for modern standards, but it couldn’t be helped. Willa gulped a quick shallow breath before starting down the steep dark staircase.

  Alex sat in uncomfortable silence across from his brother and Jerome in the vicarage parlor. The chair was a small wooden-backed affair with very little padding and worn tapestry covering the seat. His brother and the vicar had taken the two ancient leather chairs near the fireplace, obviously a very familiar arrangement. The brass clock on the writing desk ticked loudly. Alex was cursing, for the fourteenth time, the dementia that had possessed him to accept this absurd invitation, when the stairs creaked.

  They all looked up. Willa’s slippered feet slowly descended the steps, followed by her naked ankles and then far too much of her legs. Finally, her full skirts rustled into view. Alex watched attentively as Willa revealed more of her unusual costume with each step, her cinched-in waist, the flattened bodice, and the bust ineffectively covered by an old lace shawl. When her magnified blue eyes came into view, he felt her nervousness. Something caught in his throat. He coughed, but it didn’t go away.

  The men shuffled to their feet. Alex noticed his brother, Daniel, avoided making eye contact with Willa as he mumbled an awkward greeting. Jerome said nothing. His nose lifted perceptibly, as if he disapproved of his little sister. They all lapsed into strained silence.

  Alex couldn’t stand it. He came forward and bowed with far more formality than the occasion required. “A delight, Miss Linnet. I thought you would never return to us.” He took her hand. “But what is this? No more fruit? Not even a morsel left for us hungry souls?”