A Lady's Perfect Match: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  Montgomery walked forward quietly, his face set in a polite, unreadable mask, and easily lifted the lady up. From her new throne, Michelle waved down at the company with an air of grandeur.

  "I'm sorry it didn't work out this time, Emelia, but another time, perhaps?"

  And they were off, rolling along down the road towards the town in a whirl of hooves and lace. Emelia turned to the remaining three with a quick blush, but her discomfort was almost immediately alleviated by the look of relief on Hannah's face. Ah yes, she'd forgotten that with the rather embarrassing departure of Michelle, the lovely and distracting Annelise had been whisked away as well.

  "Well, let us plebeians take out the food and set about our repast," Emelia said.

  Brody had watched the girls ride away with a strange look on his face, but now he turned to Emelia with a renewed zeal. "Actually, no." He turned so that the other two couldn't see and winked, quickly. "I'm thinking that you and I ought to scout about for a more dry clime upon which to sit, Em, while Montgomery and Hannah set out the meal."

  Then, before she could protest, Emelia felt her arm seized by the over-enthusiastic Brody and he was propelling her off along the ridge and further up the path. "Perhaps this is for the best," he said when they were out of earshot. "Now they'll have ample opportunity to speak in private."

  "Can you believe Michelle left like that?" Emelia asked a little breathlessly. She needed to distract him until she thought of a way to do to him what he had just done to his brother.

  Brody shrugged. "Lady Michelle, fearful for her skirts? It's a tale as old as time."

  "But perhaps you were sad to see her fair companion depart as well?" Emelia risked a look over at Brody, hoping he wouldn't guess her prying motive.

  Brody stopped for a moment in his passage along the trail and looked back at Montgomery and Hannah. They were busying themselves around the picnic basket, but Emelia couldn't see precisely what was going on.

  "I think it's as good this way as it would have been the other," Brody said at last.

  Emelia pushed gently against his arm. "It didn't look like that earlier when you were gushing over Miss Annelise's singular accent."

  "I don't know what comes over me sometimes," Brody said, and his voice was oddly quiet. He wasn't usually this way, even with Emelia. There was something on his mind, but she knew him well enough to know that he would only admit to it in his own time; not a moment sooner. "We should keep walking," he said, sounding a little wistful. "We should give them more time together."

  "I don't think so," Emelia said quickly. "They may need a bit of prompting. You know how quiet they are. Let's go back and share a meal with them and see what we can do to put a shine on their image of one another."

  Brody agreed and the two set off back down the hill. When they drew closer Montgomery looked up with amusement.

  "You didn't find anything dryer, I presume?"

  "Don't sound so superior," Brody retorted playfully. "We did not, but such as life, stand we must."

  Quite suddenly, and idea came to Emelia. "Actually," she said, "I think it would be best if we moved the picnic a little closer to the house. Two of us should take the baskets back to the creek and set up there, while the other two should cross to the main house and retrieve the blankets. We'll meet together again and resume our party as though nothing was amiss from the start."

  "It's a pity we didn't think of this plan before losing Lady Michelle and her charming friend," Hannah said softly. Only Emelia knew her well enough to hear the sarcasm in her voice.

  "A wonderful plan!" Brody said, linking arms with Emelia and giving her a look that said he respected her attempts at trickery. "We shall divide and conquer, and since God intended for man and woman to be the most illustrious team of all, we shall go with one man and one woman each."

  Emelia hid a smile. "Perfect," she said.

  Hannah looked up at her with a wistful expression and then busied herself returning the food to the baskets. Emelia's heart went out to her.

  "Since the pair that will go for the blankets will have to walk twice the distance," she said quickly, "I think it best if I go with that pair."

  Brody grinned. "And I also will—"

  "—go with Hannah," Emelia finished quickly. "For you know where the special hollow by the creek is, and you can go by way of the gatehouse to cut off time carrying the baskets."

  Brody looked at her in surprise, but Emelia noted with satisfaction that he was not altogether frustrated with the arrangement.

  "I'll go with Hannah?" he said, more in a question than as a statement.

  "Yes." Emelia picked up her skirts and waved to a surprised Montgomery. "Let's set off now, Dr. Shaw, there's not a moment to lose."

  She cast one last glance in Hannah's direction before she left, and though her sister's head was lowered, she saw the slightest smile cross Hannah's sweet face.

  Chapter 20

  Montgomery had the feeling as he followed Emelia away from the two left behind on the overlook that there was more going on than he knew. He had sensed it when he saw Brody exchange a glance with Emelia in the wagon, and then he had sensed it again when they took off in search of a dry place to lay their quilts.

  He wondered if Brody was coming to the knowledge of Emelia's feminine charms at last, after all these years, and was making his move. The idea was an obvious one, and yet Montgomery felt a twinge of annoyance at the thought.

  Emelia was walking so quickly that he had to keep his strides long to keep up with her.

  "It's alright," he said with a laugh after a moment. "I'm sure the blankets will be in the same place if we arrive there in half an hour or fifteen minutes."

  Emelia slowed ever so slightly and gave a weak little laugh. "You're right, of course. I'm just trying to make amends for yet another social disaster."

  "Would it have been so awful if we'd sat on the stones and had a bit of dew on our clothes?" Montgomery eased up beside her, enjoying the comfort of conversation. "I think the only social disaster occurred when two people abandoned the engagement because they weren’t willing to be slightly inconvenienced."

  Emelia turned and looked at him in mute surprise.

  "Why do you look at me like that?" he asked. "You look shocked by my words."

  "I'm only surprised," she said softly, "that you would speak so openly against one of the most eligible ladies in the county."

  He laughed. "Firstly, what makes her eligible? Secondly, what sets eligible people in such a position that they are free from criticism? It seems to me that is the way we make monsters of people, by indulging those that have already been far too indulged."

  Emelia reached down and snagged the head off a passing blade of wheat that waved at her fingertips. She rolled the grains between her fingers and blew the chaff off into the wind.

  "Of course you would say that," she said with a shrug. "Gentlemen always pretend they don't know when they're eligible or when other ladies are. I don't know why. Wouldn't it be better if we were all just honest about such things?"

  Montgomery raised his eyebrows. She was, yet again, catching him off guard. "Alright. I'll play along with you. What is it that you think makes Lady Michelle such a worthy prospect for marriage? You yourself don't seem to fancy her, why do you think I or any other man would?"

  Emelia blushed. Montgomery could tell that it bothered her that her own dislike of the woman was so evident. "I didn't say I didn't like her."

  "But you don't."

  "That's beside the point. She's…beautiful, surely. The kind of beauty that makes people stop in their tracks on the street or seek her out across a ballroom. She's also very wealthy, and has a spotless family history."

  "Do you know what kind of things make a spotless family history?" Montgomery asked, finding himself yet again engrossed in a conversation with Emelia as he had only before been engrossed with one of his colleagues or professors. "I believe it is the mettle of a person—character and kindness—that build such
family histories. But then, when you are raised without any real hardship, you forget such things. That is how spotless family histories are at last tarnished. It's a vicious cycle. Perhaps society's pressure will keep Lady Michelle from anything openly disastrous, but she's not the sort of woman I would want to link myself to for life. She has never had to overcome anything; she has never forced her mind to think outside of the places where it is comfortable to roam; she has never considered that there are people hurting and poor as near as her own village."

  "That is not a list that I have heard connected with the eligibility or ineligibility of a person before." Emelia smiled up at him archly. Montgomery couldn't help noticing the way the exercise had brightened her eyes to an intriguing chocolate flecked with amber, or the way her hair, already in a loose bun, had begun to escape in tendrils all around her face. "I'm not sure it would make much headway in the London courts. How can you test such things?"

  "I find that simply being around a person tells you much of what you wish to know. I formed an opinion about Lady Michelle when she first crossed the yard at your garden party with her retinue behind her."

  Emelia, who agreed with Montgomery, found the need to defend her sex at least a little. "You cannot be saying that wealth is in and of itself a reason to discredit people. That is prejudice just as it would be if you were making judgments about the poor or the uneducated."

  "You are right," he said, sobering a bit. "I could easily have made a misjudgment based solely on the lady's dress and manner of talking. Fortunately, I have had multiple chances, including a briefly shared childhood with Lady Michelle, to see her true nature. I think that her upbringing has much to do with it, but I see nothing eligible about a woman who thinks only of herself and her own interests."

  "Perhaps someone like you would be a good, stabilising influence on someone like Lady Michelle."

  "Perhaps," Montgomery mused, "but I'm afraid I haven't the grit and will to be the sacrificial lamb. If I ever marry, it will have to be to someone a bit steadier; someone who looks to others as much as to her own interests."

  Emelia looked up suddenly at the sky, which had been growing darker as they made their way across the fields towards home. It had begun as a sunny day, but as the minutes passed a dark purple front had crept up on the horizon and the air was growing chillier.

  "Is it going to rain?" she asked suddenly.

  "It looks like it." Montgomery looked back over his shoulder. "I wonder if Brody and Hannah are under cover yet."

  "They didn't have as far to walk, so I'm sure they will be," Emelia said. Then, with a laugh, "I know you're a proponent for caring about others first, but shouldn't you be worried about whether or not we'll make it to cover?"

  Montgomery pointed ahead. Over the hill was a small folly built against a sweeping tree. It was older now, but Emelia remembered the days when they used to play as children.

  The folly was shaped like a low yurt, with one of the columns supported by the tree, and one of the columns wound round with a luscious vine. She hadn't been out to it in some time. "I assume we can take refuge there, if we don't have time to make it back to the house."

  As if in answer to his supposition, the sky split suddenly with a crack of thunder and a flash of lightning creased down in the distance. Emelia shivered.

  "I didn't have any idea—think if the blankets affair hadn't sent Lady Michelle and Annelise packing; we would have been trapped on that overlook with a downpour."

  Just then she felt a small sprinkling of rain on her nose. The drops were followed by more, and then the sky seemed to suddenly give up the ghost and a sheet of rain came down on the two young people struggling across the field. Emelia took off running, her skirts in her hands, and Montgomery hurried to keep up.

  It felt like hours but was actually less than a minute before the two stumbled, laughing and breathless, into the cover of the folly. Emelia whirled around, droplets showering from her nose and clothing. Her hair had fallen out entirely during the run and hung, damp and wavy, around her shoulders. Her smile was wide and her eyes bright, and Montgomery lost his breath for a moment just looking at her. Then he came to himself.

  "That was sudden. England isn't often so mysterious in her weather."

  "It was nice, wasn't it?" Emelia said, breathing quickly and collapsing onto one of the old worn benches along the outside. The rain fell in sheets just outside, and she put out a hand, catching the droplets with glee. "It feels so cool and fresh."

  Montgomery sat, too. He found it remarkable that she'd said nothing about her drenched appearance, nor had she complained about the chill or the inconvenience. She'd only embraced the magic of it all, finding a treasure in what other women would have considered a disaster.

  "It is fresh indeed." He took off his overcoat, shaking out the damp sleeves underneath. "I'm glad to see our little Mongolian castle has maintained its roof integrity."

  "Genghis Khan, the brute," Emelia said, throwing back her head and laughing in delight. "That was my absolute favourite game to play, although you were no fun when you grew older and started reading books to critique our historical accuracy."

  "I don't think it's a stretch to insist muskets weren't a major weapon at the time," Montgomery retorted, laughing as well. "How hard is it to switch to bow and arrow in your imagination?"

  Emelia rolled her eyes and let her head fall back gently against the column behind her for support. She closed her eyes and drew her knees up to her chin, wrapping her hands around them.

  "I like the sound of the rain."

  They sat like that in comfortable silence for some time, and when Emelia spoke again it almost startled Montgomery, so lost was he in his own thoughts.

  "You're different," was what she said, her voice soft. He looked at her, and found she'd opened her eyes and was leaning forward a little so that her chin fell atop her knees. Her arms were wrapped around her legs, as though she was a child listening to a fireside story.

  If Brody had said such a thing, or his mother—or anyone, now that he thought of it—he would have laughed them off or dodged the subject, but with the rain pouring down behind Emelia, her hair soft and feather-like around her face, and her eyes wide with interest, Montgomery decided to match her frankness with his.

  "I am different."

  "Is it because of all the studying that you did, all the people that you've seen in pain, or is it because of your father?"

  Again, her frankness was disarming and intoxicating. He took off his hat and spun it around in his hands before running his fingers through his hair.

  "Perhaps a little of everything. I used to be so confident about everything I did. I used to think I had a right to tell people what was right and what was wrong because I myself was so above fault."

  "Like the muskets and Genghis Khan," she teased.

  "I still hold by that," he answered with a soft smile. Then, after a moment's pause, he went on, "But now I am not so sure."

  "You're not so sure….?"

  "—That I know everything I thought I knew."

  They looked at each other for a moment in silence and then Emelia tilted her head to the side and asked a question Montgomery hadn't even been able to ask himself. "Why is it that you feel guilty?" After a pause, she explained, "I can see it in your eyes."

  He bit his lip, thinking again how easy it would be to reroute the conversation or dodge the truth, but with her he didn't want to. He just wanted to tell her the truth, without argument or explanation.