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

by Kathleen Baldwin

  She smiled at him. There it was. Her gift of genuine warmth. Too bad more women couldn’t smile with such a lack of artifice.

  “Good evening, gentlemen.” Lady Alameda stood in the doorway.

  Alex dropped Willa’s hand and stepped back. He lowered his eyelids and watched the countess make her theatrical entrance into the rustic little vicarage parlor. She swished toward Jerome wearing a gown fit for the Prince Regent’s drawing room, deep purple with shimmering beadwork. She dangled a plum-colored fan, and matching feathers paraded out of a comb in her hair. Jerome and Daniel gaped like yokels as she walked up to her nephew and planted a kiss on each cheek.

  The stunned vicar finally hoisted his jaw back up where it belonged and stammered an introduction of the illustrious lady to his friend. Daniel bowed regally.

  Alex coughed—this time to choke back a guffaw at his brother’s overdone obeisance.

  Honore turned in his direction. “Ah, Mr. Braeburn.” She emphasized the mister, her eyes flashing with challenge.

  Alex acknowledged her by inclining his head in a marginally acceptable greeting. The countess reminded him of something—what was it? Perhaps, a wily mongoose he had seen on his trip to India, or more likely, a dancing cobra.

  She turned her attention to Willa. “Egad, child! What a entertaining dress. Are you in costume? You should have warned me. I have a delightful Egyptian ensemble I could have sent for. But no, my dear, I see by your face it is not a costume.”

  “It belonged to my mother.”

  “And her mother before her, no doubt.” Lady Alameda stared down her nose. “Have you nothing from this century?”

  Willa’s chin shot in the air. “No sense spending money on frivolities.”

  Alex silently applauded her refusal to be cowed, but his eyebrow arched involuntarily. An unusual sentiment, coming from a female. She couldn’t mean it. Women lived for such things, did they not? But then, Willa was different from any female he’d ever known.

  “Frivolities? Good heavens!” Lady Alameda rounded on Jerome. “What nonsense have you been pouring in this child’s ear? Are you so clutch-fisted that you won’t even purchase a new gown for your sister?”

  Jerome tried in vain to loosen his collar as he faced the inquisition. His voice wobbled like that of a teenage boy. “It’s a perfectly good dress.”

  “Piffle!” The countess waved her hand through the air. “Are you blind, man? Can you not see the girl’s bosom is bursting out of this bodice? If she can breath at all, it’s a wonder.”

  Alex could not restrain himself from reinspecting the bosom in question. Yes. Bursting. True. Lovely, he thought. Quite lovely. Willa self-consciously tried to adjust her lace to no avail. With some difficulty, he forced himself to stop looking.

  Honore gave Willa’s skirt a twitch. “Look at this. If it showed any more of her legs she would be arrested. Really Jerome, perfectly good, indeed! Perfectly indecent!”

  Honore held out the skirt providing a more complete vista of Willa’s legs as she continued her tirade. Jerome and Daniel turned their heads politely away, Jerome to the floor and Daniel to the clock. Alex took one look at Willa’s face and knew she was mortified.

  Enough.

  He squared his shoulders. “My lady, if you will kindly let go of her gown, a little less of Miss Linnet will be exposed. In so doing, you might spare the good vicar and my brother a heart seizure.”

  Lady Alameda flung down the blue silk. “Well, they ought to be embarrassed. It’s appalling to see the chit in a gown that dates back to the fall of Rome.”

  The vicar sputtered. “Rome? But, surely...”

  Alex watched Willa’s face as she battled with her emotions. She turned to her aunt, lifted her index finger in what he knew must be a prelude to a lecture. She opened her mouth, but stopped and regrouped. Anger, or perhaps frustration, galloped across her delightfully candid features. Alex guessed she was trying to compose a scathing set-down for the insensitive Lady Alameda.

  Mercifully, Jerome’s sour-faced housekeeper interrupted the impending battle. “Dinner is served, or it will be if you would all like to retard to the dining room.”

  Willa groaned. “Retire. Retire to the dining room.”

  “That’s what I said.” Aggie imperiously left the parlor.

  Chapter 5

  Pease Porridge Hot

  Pease soup.

  WILLA SENT a silent prayer to heaven, begging that the rest of the dinner would not be so meager. She should have advised Aggie about the menu. Alex would think they were paupers, or worse, laughably provincial. She didn’t think she could bear any more humiliation today.

  Honore sniffed her spoon as if the concoction was something the mule had dropped. “Pea soup, how charming. I haven’t eaten pea soup in nearly a decade.”

  Willa shot her aunt a quelling glance, not that the woman could be quelled. Indeed, it would take an act of parliament and several strong soldiers to put a stop to her insults. “Try it, my lady. It’s quite tasty. In any case, you cannot expect to find London delicacies here in St. Cleves. We are simple country folk.”

  Honore laughed. “Simple, my dear? I doubt it. You seem to be anything but simple. Refreshing, let us say you are refreshing country folk.”

  Aggie pushed through the side door bearing the first course under a tray full of covers. Willa held her breath as Aggie revealed each dish—mackerel with gooseberries, roast quail, boiled potatoes, artichokes with bean sauce, parsnips, and apple pudding—and set it on the table en famille style. Dinner would not be the disaster Willa had feared.

  She smiled with relief at Aggie. Aggie acknowledged her with a smug look as she left the room.

  Willa cut a small piece of fish and skewered it with her fork along with a sliver of potato and a small parsnip. She slipped this composition into her mouth and noticed Alex looking at her. Her cheeks flushed hot, and she was grateful for the dim light. Nevertheless, the fish seemed to swell in her mouth. It all went down her throat in a great lump. She looked across the table and noticed her aunt, too, was studying her. Willa grabbed her wine glass and gulped it down, but it would take more than that to steady her nerves.

  Honore turned to Jerome. “Are you not curious, Jerome, what has precipitated my visit?”

  His mouth full of victuals, Jerome nodded and gulped his food. “Yes, yes, indeed I am, Aunt. Naturally, we are honored that you would pay us a visit. I had in my mind to inquire if you had any particular purpose in it. I believe the last time we saw you, Willa was still wearing short skirts.”

  “Still in them, I should say.”

  Jerome tut-tutted, muttering under his breath. “Dress is perfectly fine.”

  “Very well, I will tell you why I’ve come.” Honore tapped her glass. “I bring you glad tidings. Good news for all of us.” She paused until everyone’s attention rested on her.

  Glad tidings, indeed. Her aunt sounded rather like a bawdy annunciation angel. Willa stuffed a bite of herbed quail into her mouth.

  “I’ve come to take Wilhemina to live in London with me.”

  Willa nearly choked.

  Honore glanced around the table. “Why are you all staring at me as if I just sprouted horns? I am offering to make Willa my protégé, to introduce her to polite society. This is an extremely generous offer.”

  Willa took a quick look at Alex. It was impossible to know what he was thinking with his lips pursed and eyes narrowed.

  Jerome recovered from his shock, and after what appeared to be a few simple calculations, his undisguised enthusiasm overflowed. “Yes. Yes. Extremely generous. Do you mean to pay for Willa’s debut?”

  Honore nodded.

  Alex frowned. Willa thought she heard him mutter, “Not a good idea.”

  Sir Daniel poked Jerome in the arm with the butt of his fork. “Think of it, my friend. Willa might go to London for the season, meet an eligible partí, and all of our problems will be solved.”

  Willa stabbed a parsnip. He means his problem w
ill be solved.

  Alex’s frown deepened.

  Jerome’s face lit up. “Yes, yes. It might answer. Willa has a dowry. It is small, but not insignificant. Surely some fellow in London—”

  “You misunderstand me, gentlemen,” Honore interrupted. “I have no intention of puffing Willa off. What use would she be to me married? I intend to make her my protégé, a companion.”

  “Ah.” Alex straightened, his eyebrows arched as if he’d finally solved a vexing riddle. “There it is. The rub.”

  The fish turned to lead in Willa’s stomach. He was right. Companion. Hardly a debut. Scarcely a life at all.

  Honore glared at him. “A surrogate daughter, of sorts. I have no children of my own. She has no parents. What could be simpler?”

  “Calculus. Plato.” Alex twirled his knife as if it were the most fascinating instrument he’d ever laid eyes on.

  Jerome beamed at Honore. “This is an extremely generous offer. We will be delighted—”

  “No.” Willa shook her head. “We would be delighted, but unfortunately it is out of the question.”

  All eyes turned toward her.

  She ignored them. She’d given her answer. There was nothing more to discuss. “Ah, here’s Aggie with our dessert. Raspberry tarts, my favorite.”

  Aggie stood in the doorway, listening to their conversation with a stricken look on her face. She nodded at Willa and laid the tarts out on the table.

  “Why?” Honore demanded. “Why is it out of the question?”

  Aggie scowled.

  Alex glanced expectantly at Willa.

  She calmly set down her fork and tried to steeple the tips of her fingers just as Daniel and Jerome did before launching into a lecture. Unfortunately, she missed. So, she clasped them together and tried not to look as if she was pleading. “Surely, it is obvious. Jerome needs me here at the vicarage.”

  Jerome shook his head. “No. No, I don’t, Willa. I can manage just fine without—”

  Willa grabbed the edge of the table. “What about the needy parishioners? Who’ll take the sick baskets and mend clothing for the poor?”

  “Plenty of women to do that sort of thing.”

  “Plenty,” echoed Sir Daniel, nodding as he prepared his next bite of tart.

  Willa looked from one to the other, completely astonished. “You both act as if I wouldn’t be missed at all.”

  “Of course we’ll miss you.” Jerome adjusted his dessert plate and readied his fork.

  “Certainly, we’ll miss you.” Sir Daniel smiled with forbearance, as one does to a small child who has just been given a piece of hard candy, patted on the head, and told to run along and play. “No one reads Greek poetry with as much feeling as you do.”

  Willa shot Sir Daniel a fiery glare in return for his paltry commemoration.

  Honore’s tone sounded silky and purring. “You see, my dear? There is nothing standing in your way.”

  “Except common sense.” Alex cracked the shell on his tart. The juice ran out, drowning the pale, helpless crust in deep dark red.

  Honore smiled at him most peculiarly.

  Willa shoved a fork full of raspberries into her mouth and wondered if she’d eaten a bad mushroom and slipped into lunacy. Or perhaps she was asleep, and this was merely an absurd concoction of her unconscious mind. If she pinched herself, it was quite possible she would wake up and the last two days will have been nothing more than a dream. She glanced at Alex. A dream containing unforgettable fantasies. And a great deal of madness.

  Alex deplored the thought of the supercilious countess taking Willa to London and corrupting her. Willa was like a mountain stream, pure and uncontaminated. He dreaded what London would do to her. It was like hitching a prize-winning thoroughbred up to a haywagon—a shameful waste.

  Alex cleared his throat. “It seems obvious Willa doesn’t want to go to London.”

  Lady Alameda’s spine stiffened, and she glared in his direction. “Don’t be ridiculous. What young lady in her right mind wouldn’t want to go to London? And what would you do, Mr. Braeburn, consign her to this rustic little village for the rest of her life? I think you do not see her potential.”

  He set his spoon down with rather more force than he’d anticipated. “Potential has nothing to do with it. London is full of undesirable elements. She has no experience with such things.”

  “Spoken like a gentleman who has been amongst the wrong kind of company.” The countess trumped him neatly.

  He pressed his lips tightly together, holding himself in check.

  Lady Alameda stilled her whip-like tongue for a moment, pushed her dessert plate away, and snapped open her fan. “Aside from that, I cannot see how you have anything to say in the matter.”

  “True enough,” confirmed Jerome. “I think it will be a splendid opportunity for my sister.”

  Alex flexed his jaw muscles. They were right. He had no say over it. He picked up his fork and stabbed the bleeding tart. This was none of his affair. Why should he trouble himself? He glanced at Willa. Because never in his life had he met such a complete innocent.

  She leaned toward her brother and made a gentle appeal. “No, Jerome, Alex is right. I don’t want to go. I don’t belong in London. Can’t you see how out of place I would be in Aunt Honore’s circles?”

  “Nonsense, child.” Honore stood up. “Come. Let us leave the gentlemen to their port.”

  Alex watched Willa reluctantly follow her aunt out of the room and he knew the matter was settled. Lady Alameda would have her way. What chance did she stand against a woman like that? No, the enchanting little Willa would go to London and become yet another insipid, vacuous female. A shame. He swallowed Jerome’s weak brandy in one gulp and set his glass down for a refill.

  “I’m not going.” Willa flopped down on the parlor settee.

  “No?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Hmm.” Honore snapped open her fan. “Interestingly enough, I had thought you had a fairly good reason to go.”

  Willa frowned at Aunt Honore as if she were daft. “What do you mean? I stated my objections clearly. Every point I mentioned supported the argument for staying here in St. Cleves.”

  “Piffle. I hear a little girl making noises like a frightened mouse. Afraid of London. Afraid of the haute ton. Do you plan on cowering here amongst these bumpkins for the rest of your life?”

  “I’m not cowering.” Willa caught her bottom lip between her teeth. True, she had wished for a more exciting life, daydreamed of it incessantly. Here was her opportunity, and yet she was refusing to go. Why? Maybe she was cowering.

  “I think you are. You have a most compelling motive to come with me to London, and yet—”

  “What motive? What reason? I told you before—”

  “The tall muscular motive with the intriguing brown eyes. The Corinthian in your dining room with curly hair and a melting disposition whenever he looks in your direction.”

  “Alex Braeburn? That’s absurd.”

  Honore inspected her fingernails and waited.

  Willa pressed a hand over her heart and stopped breathing like a rabbit. “I’m not the kind of woman he... He doesn’t... I mean, he would never—”

  “Oh, yes he does. And oh yes, he would. The question is, my dear, do you? Would you?”

  Horrid, hot flames engulfed Willa’s cheeks. Drat! She had unquestionably turned scarlet. She sat helplessly exposed to her aunt.

  “Ha. As I thought. Tell me, my dear, do you expect this Alex to hang about the countryside rusticating? No. Let me assure you, come daylight that young man will be headed back to town, and in a week or two, he’ll have forgotten you ever existed.”

  Willa stared at her hands folded neatly in her lap and tried to keep her breathing even and temperate. What could she do? Alex was a man of the world, completely unsuitable, and aside from that, he was far beyond her touch.

  “As you say, Alex is a Corinthian. I could not possibly have any expectations in that q
uarter.”

  “Not with that namby-pamby attitude.” Honore took her fists from her hips and leaned toward Willa using her fingers to describe a thin thread. “No, your Alex is a large trout caught on a very slender line. One must reel him in slowly, cautiously. Naturally, he’ll thrash about from side to side. But oh my! What a merry chase it will be.” Honore stepped back. One side of her mouth curled up. “Of course, you may not be up to the challenge.”

  “I’m not a half-wit. I can see you’re daring me. I’m not so gullible as you think, and you mustn’t’ speak so disrespectfully of him—a trout on a line, indeed. Alex is a man, not a fish.”

  “Oh? So, you’re not interested.”

  “I didn’t say that. My foolish emotions are probably obvious to everyone. But don’t mistake the matter. I am, as in all things, ruled by my intellect, not my heart. Aside from that, I would never set out to catch a man as if he were a witless fish. Never.”

  “Very well, stay here in St. Nowhere. I’ll find another niece to adopt as my protégé. Let Alex spend the rest of his days wandering aimlessly, a rascal with no purpose. Who cares about him?” Honore rose and shook out her skirts.

  Willa remained seated and studied her hands, clenched into a tight ball on her lap. Honore was right. In London she might cross paths with him occasionally—it would be better than never seeing him again. It was now or never. St. Cleves for the rest of her life, or take a chance on something different.

  “Wait,” she said softly and stood up.

  Honore whipped around like a great purple-beaded hawk, narrowing her eyes at her niece.

  “I’ll go with you. On the condition that you must promise not to think of Alex as a fish.” The eager glint in her aunt’s eyes made Willa hesitate. “Nor a fox you intend to run aground with a pack of hounds. He is quite beyond my aspirations.” When her aunt appeared willing to comply, she continued. “The truth is, I would like to come with you so that I may see a bit of the world before I return to spend the rest of my days here, in service to my brother and the people of my village.”

  Honore put her arm around Willa’s shoulder and patted her.