by Cari Hislop
Smirke slid into his brother’s pew and looked around for a friendly face, but the sleepy crowd was full of strangers eager to remain unknown. He sighed with disappointment and took out a deep snuff box filled with lemon drops and put one in his mouth. He crossed his legs and tried in vain to ease himself into a comfortable position as he wondered where he was supposed to begin contemplating his wickedness. Did one start at the end, the beginning or the middle? He settled on trying to recall his earliest wickedness as the preacher began to drone from the pulpit.
“Psst.” Lost in the past, John didn’t notice the young woman open the Smirke pew door. “Pssst.” She’d slid onto the bench. “Pssssst!” John jumped as she hissed directly into his ear, jolting both his wounds. He turned to snarl at his tormentor, but pain dimmed as large blue eyes the color of cornflowers sent delicious shivers through his pleasure deprived body. If only this innocent looking lamb was his Joan. He gulped down his next thought and leered as he took in delicate high cheek bones and bowed lips designed to be kissed. “I was hoping to find you here…” The familiar voice plucked at his taut nerves like a rusty garden fork. His contemplation of her elegant slender figure swathed in black and white striped silk outlining understated, but perfectly balanced curves was cut short as his pleasant thoughts were shattered. He blinked away disappointment as the young woman from the stationers leaned closer, enveloping him in a fog of lavender perfume. “You shouldn’t wear so much black Mr Smirke. It makes you look like a villain.”
“Sshhh!” People sitting all around turned to hush at the couple with various expressions of irritation.
“This pew is for the Smirke family and friends.”
“I know.”
“That was a broad hint to go to the devil. Pray do!”
“It’s very wicked to wish someone to the devil.”
“Yes, one more thing I have to repent of. Now go away before I do something really wicked.” John forcefully abandoned contemplating the long elegant neck and turned back to face front and popped another lemon drop into his mouth. The conversation was over.
“May I have a boiled sweet?”
“Shhhh!” The hushing noises were coming from every direction of the chapel.
“You may have anything as long as you promise to go sit somewhere else.” She helped herself to several lemon drops earning another scowl.
“Where are you staying? I need to know where to send my bills.”
The words globbed into John’s conscious like too much honey on a perfect piece of toast. “I was being sarcastic.” The words were as tight as his throat. He hadn’t had a woman in months. His crossed legs tightened uncomfortably as he foolishly glanced again at the curve of her throat. She didn’t look like a whore, but she was obviously offering herself for sale. John felt the darkness in his mind recede as he folded his arms and hissed, “I’m not interested. Take your wares elsewhere.”
“What do you mean take my wares elsewhere? I’m not selling anything.” Her loud whisper left the people in the nearby pews gaping in shock. “I just need to know where you’re living. There’s no point sending my bills to Bolingbroke if you’re in Bath.” She calmly helped herself to another lemon drop as black marble eyes chilled with rage. “Why are you angry? You’ve been paying my bills for almost a year. It’s never bothered you before.”
“How dare you sponge off me you hussy, I’ve killed men for less.”
“You shouldn’t have killed anyone. It’s very wicked. You were probably spoiled as a child. I understand pretty boys usually are. Has anyone ever told you, you look like a painted Fragonard come to life? I’ve only seen prints of course. It’s a good thing we’re in church or I might kiss you to see if your lips taste of lacquer. These are nice lemon drops…can I have another one?” There was a bewitching gleam in her large blue eyes that was making John’s head spin in the opposite direction of his rage. His innards twisted in confusion as the congregation openly listened to the conversation on the Smirke family pew.
The Vicar loudly thumped the pulpit with his hand in irritation, “Miss Lark…if you must converse with Mr Smirke, be so good as to do it outside where it won’t disturb the entire congregation.”
“We can’t go outside, it’s raining. My guardian is recovering from serious injuries. He might catch a chill and die and then who’d look after me? I’d have to throw myself on the parish. Oh dear, I think he’s having apoplexy…don’t die Mr Smirke!” The Vicar took a deep breath and visibly struggled to remain calm as John loudly hyperventilated at the thought of being legally saddled with the young woman at his side for the rest of his life. No woman would ever marry him with the beautiful Miss Lark lurking at his heels; he’d never find his Joan. His groans of horror only drew more unwanted sympathy from the young lady. “Where’s the pain Mr Smirke? Is your cravat too tight?” Slender feminine hands untied his neck cloth and lightly massaged his throat. John choked as unsolicited pleasure jolted through his veins, his vital organs toasted by genuine concern.
“By all means please do look after the health of your guardian, Miss Lark, but perhaps you might do it elsewhere?”
“I think he’s stopped breathing. Mr Smirke?” The congregation crammed around the pew and gleefully watched the wicked man being slapped by the maddening young woman they’d hoped had relocated permanently to Lincolnshire. John caught his breath and blinked away tears of horror. “Thank the heavens, he’s breathing…I’d best take him home.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you, you vulture. Someone take her away before I have heart failure.”
“Is there something wrong with your heart?” Smirke clenched his teeth as her hand slipped under his shirt. “It’s beating far too quickly. You need to relax Mr Smirke, just breathe slowly.”
“Please someone take her away…anyone…I’ll pay.” The congregation looked away hoping to avoid having to explain why they were relieved the innocent girl was in the clutches of a notorious libertine. They turned their gazes back to the Vicar and prayed that the Smirke family pew would empty quickly.
“Don’t be silly Mr Smirke. This is a church not a charity auction. You’re obviously unwell. You’d best let me take you…”
“Get your hand out of my shirt! I’m not going anywhere till the end of the sermon. Didn’t your mother teach you anything about being a lady? Leave me and my linen in peace.” He knotted his cravat with shaking hands as he scowled at his ward’s large unhappy eyes and quivering lips. “What’s wrong with you? You’re not going to cry now are you?” His horrified whisper was nearly drowned out by the Organ wheezing into life for a hymn.
“My mother died the day I was born. Father said I killed her. He couldn’t stand the sight of me.” Miss Lark frantically searched her person for a handkerchief as the sad whisper poked John in the stomach.
“Here, use mine and don’t give it back.” She took his handkerchief and blew her nose while Smirke tried to sweeten his future misery with a lemon drop as his tapping heart frantically tried to get his attention. After a few minutes the sniffling young woman inched up against him and tucked her hand around his elbow before helping herself to another lemon drop. John closed his eyes and tried to ponder his wickedness, but his thoughts kept drifting into a frightful daydream that he was sitting in church with his Joan. After several agonising minutes staring ahead trying to be good his black eyes slid back towards the woman at his side to find wide cornflower eyes studying him with a strange wistful expression. On catching his eye Miss Lark gently squeezed his arm and further enchanted his inner organs with an adoring smile. Scowling at his body’s reaction, he made a firm mental note to send the girl packing before he could do anything he would certainly regret.
Chapter 5
The Vicar having finished thumping the pulpit, the congregation scurried out into the rain, moving splotches of colour against impassive yellow stone. Jostled off the path into the grass, John paused in the overgrown churchyard to put up his umbrella and shake off the smiling young woman. �
��You will begin the journey back to Bolingbroke House tomorrow and unless you run away to marry some fool, stay there. Do whatever you wish to my house, just leave me in peace.” His heart tapped a desperate tattoo against his chest as large cornflower eyes lost their smile.
“But there’s no one to talk to.”
“Talk to the servants.”
“They never have time.”
“Talk to the villagers.”
“They treat me like I have the plague except the local lads who whistle at me as if I was some sort of filly and ask me all sorts of strange questions that make no sense. Why would I want to roll in the hay?” John sucked in cold air through warm teeth and exhaled the desire to shoot his neighbours and servants. “I’ll write you a letter of introduction and explain that you’re my ward not my…”
“Let me stay with you in Bath. I can keep you company…I can nurse you back to health.”
“You’ll be on the next mail coach to Boston or I’ll…” What could one do to punish a wayward ward without incurring the wrath of God? Something was wrong with his brain. He couldn’t think straight with those eyes staring up at him. “Must you stand so close? Leave me some air.” Her nearness was too pleasant. He had to get rid of her before he did something stupid.
“I want to stay with you.”
“Well I don’t want you chirping in my ear till I lose my mind. I’m recovering serious wounds. I need peace and quiet. Don’t look at me as if I’ve gambled away your virtue. I may be a wicked sinner, but I wouldn’t abuse a dependent…well, not anymore. Go home and torment me from a distance.” Turning to walk away, he tripped over a broken headstone hidden in the grass and fell on his face. Moaning into the ground John cradled his right arm in hopes it would dull the pain.
“Mr Smirke? Are you unwell?” Forcibly turned onto his back, wet black eyes glared upward.
“Do I look well?” John’s satanic growl only caused the large blue eyes to fill with worry.
“No. You look worse than my old school mistress after her third bottle of sherry. She always said it was to fortify her nerves, but I think she was trying to pretend I didn’t exist…”
“Silence! Help me up before I catch a chill and not another word.” John shivered with pleasure and pain as feminine hands dragged him upright, held out his bent umbrella, retrieved his hat and helped him into a hackney carriage. Braced against the corner by Miss Lark, he could feel her warmth as she gently fussed with his coat front causing his heart to rebel against his resolve. Sneaking a glance at the girl she returned a wide smile and wrapped a hand around his arm. It was as if his most secret desires had been brought to life by an evil fairy godmother. He broke free from her smile and stared out the window gripped by one thought; if he slid his good arm around her waist…
“Shall I call you Uncle John? You’re almost sort of like an uncle.”
Sanity slapped John as his head whipped back towards his companion, “I am not your uncle. You’ll address me as Mr Smirke until you wed some madman after which time you’ll forget we were ever associated.”
“I don’t want to wed a madman.”
“He won’t be mad until he wakes up in his bridal bed to find his retiring cornflower has turned into a noisy sunflower.”
“I’d never be a sunflower, I don’t like yellow. If I was a flower I’d be a snowdrop or a pink tulip. What kind of flower would you be?”
“I’m never going to be a flower.”
“You will after you die…someone’s bound to miss you and plant flowers over your grave. Do you have a favourite flower?”
“I’m going into the family vault. I will never be a flower.”
“How dull and smelly…what about some tulips? No, you’d want something that stood out and demanded to be admired. When you die I’ll put you in the ground and plant a rainbow of hollyhocks over you. They’ll grow over six feet tall and wave in the breeze, beckoning to be admired. How could you resist anything so lovely? Have you made provisions for me?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Have you made provisions for me for when you die?”
“I’m thirty-three. I’ll long outlive you if I deserve any mercy. Don’t think for one second I’m going to peg out so you can use me as plant food. If you must chatter, chatter about something other than death. I’ve had a gutful of hell and I don’t wish to be reminded of the experience.”
“I was just curious. When you die, I won’t have anyone.”
Pierced by large sad eyes, John sighed in resignation, “Of course you’ll be provided for. I was the drunken idiot who agreed to be responsible for you, wasn’t I? You won’t starve in any case.”
“I think you’re a wonderful guardian even if your ancestors’ taste in art was rather unseemly. Why would anyone want so many paintings of naked men and women?”
“That is my art collection. I bought every single piece.”
Blue eyes contemplated him with disappointment, “Oh…perhaps your servants were right.”
John’s stomach sank, “Right about what?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me!”
“No, it would hurt your feelings.”
“Tell me or else!”
“Or else what?”
“What difference does it make what I do to punish you? It won’t be pleasant.”
“Are you going to beat me?”
“No, I’m not going to beat you.”
“I thought you said you were wicked.”
Smirke took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. “You’re going back to Bolingbroke tomorrow and that’s final. I am not enduring endless months of this…insanity…” The young woman’s broken hearted expression caused a strange pinching sensation in his chest.
“I guess I could purchase a dog…”
“No dogs!”
“You said I could do what I wanted.”
“I didn’t say you could get a dog.”
“But you said I could do what I wanted and besides you haven’t been home in ages. Do you want me to die of loneliness?”
“I hate dogs. I hate dog hair. I hate dog smell. I absolutely forbid you to spend my money on one of the evil stinking creatures.”
“Poodles don’t smell. If you send me back to that ugly pile of stone without company I shall buy ten poodles and they shall all sleep on your hideous red bed. You’ll never know anything about it because you never come home anyway, so there!” She stuck out her tongue in defiance and turned away from the pretty man who looked like he was about to explode.
“Just do as you’re told or you’ll wish you had.” Even with her head turned away he could see she was silently mimicking him. “And don’t make rude faces when I’m talking to you. I’ll hire you a companion…”