by Meara Platt
“First of all, I have no women. Nor will I turn my house into a den of iniquity. Can I not have a place of my own simply for want of a little privacy? Will you help me search? Or must I turn elsewhere for assistance?”
She cast him a quelling glance, obviously not liking the idea of that. “Of course I’ll help you. Just don’t expect me to be happy about it. I love you, my dear boy. It does hurt to see the last of my chicks leaving the coop.”
He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I know. Nor am I taking this next step lightly. But I need you to help me, not undermine me.”
She gave a reluctant nod. “I think it will be easier than you imagine.”
“Truly?”
“I have a friend who has a lovely house just off Park Lane. It is too much for her to keep up. Her husband died last year and did not leave her quite as well set up as she’d hoped. Her sister lives in Bath, and since my friend prefers the quieter life anyway, she would like to join her sister there.”
Ronan’s heart beat a little faster in anticipation. “That sounds ideal, Miranda. Thank you.”
“Let me speak to my friend first and make certain she is serious about selling. I’m not sure she will be ready to show it to you tomorrow, but hopefully in a few days’ time.”
Ronan retired to his bedchamber feeling quite pleased with all he’d accomplished today. He undressed and handed his uniform and boots to his valet. “Thank you, Harrigan.”
“Have a good evening, Captain Brayden. I’ll have these clothes cleaned and boots polished before you rise tomorrow morning.”
He and his brothers had shared Harrigan until one by one they’d all left home. The codger had been a sergeant in his cousin James’s regiment and was more of a mother hen than a servant.
Ronan did not have much use for a valet to personally attend him since he was well able to bathe and dress on his own. He almost always wore his uniform even to the more formal functions. There was no fancy tie to drape into a perfect knot or awkward fastenings on his shirt that required the help of another person.
Still, no one had the heart to dismiss Harrigan. He suspected his mother would find a reason to keep him on even when there were no sons at home.
He watched the man leave, then debated whether to read for a while beside the fire or simply climb into bed.
He opted for the latter and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
He awoke early the next morning feeling better than he had in a long while and climbed out of bed to peer out the window. The sun was shining, and the sky was a crisp blue which boded well for his walk with Dahlia. They would have a nice day if one did not mind the cold too much. In truth, he preferred this weather to the summer’s stifling heat.
One could always bundle up in winter, although he rarely did. He liked that bracing chill against his face. He’d endured some pretty bad winter storms at sea, sleet and hail pouring down on them, and a howling wind strong enough to rip sails if one were foolish enough to leave them unfurled.
A little bite to the air as they strolled through the park would be nothing to him. However, he hoped it would not be too much for her.
Ladies were not used to such hardships.
Dahlia, Heather, and Violet were ready and waiting for him when he arrived at John and Sophie’s home at the appointed hour. This was another thing he liked about the Farthingale women, they did not play the typical ton games taught to all debutantes. It would not occur to any of them to purposely keep their escorts waiting. “Good morning, ladies.”
He was usually surly in the morning, as were his brothers. No conversations took place until after they’d had their coffee and perused the newspaper. But seeing these three and their smiling faces brought home how different the sexes were.
“Good morning,” Heather said, looking up at him with big, expressive blue eyes. Robbie was right. She did look like a pixie.
Violet gave a little squeal. “I received a letter from Romulus. He’ll be home next week.”
He was genuinely happy for her. “That is excellent news. I’m eager to hear how he’s doing with those pirates off the Cornwall coast.”
“Innes will return with him. Do you remember him, Ronan?”
“Yes, certainly. The Duke of Buchan’s son serving under Romulus.” He shook his head and chuckled. “That boy will soon be Lord Admiral. We’ll all be hopping to his commands soon enough.”
Violet nodded. “He’s a sweet child. Exceptionally clever, too. I’m glad he’ll be with us for the holidays. He’d be miserable if forced to be with his father’s present wife. But I know he’ll miss his father. Just shows you how badly an unhappy marriage can affect everyone, not just the spouses. The duke knows Innes will be with us. I’m sure he’ll stop by as often as he can.”
Dahlia said nothing, but she had a beautiful smile for him.
Her manner turned pensive as they walked toward the park at this unfashionable hour. The main thoroughfares were already crowded, but the more elegant side streets and squares were much quieter. The Upper Crust did not stir until midday.
“You mentioned last night that you had a function to attend this evening,” Heather said, as they entered Hyde Park through the main gate near Apsley House. “Is it the same one Joshua plans to attend?”
He nodded. “Yes, the Earl of Liverpool is meeting with the senior members of the House of Lords and has invited the military liaisons to join them. Joshua, Robbie, and I had to accept, of course. It is obviously important for us to be present whenever budgets are discussed.”
Dahlia sighed.
He quirked an eyebrow. “What was that sigh about?”
“Nothing...well, it’s just that you’ve led an interesting life and have done so much with it already. But I’ve done so little.”
“Dahlia, first of all, you are still young. I was doing little more than swabbing decks at the age of nineteen.”
“You were already a junior officer and had probably been in several battles.” She paused and regarded him curiously. “Did you not go to university?”
“I spent a year at Oxford, but I left in my second term to join the Royal Navy. It’s in my blood. I could not sit in a classroom while England was at war. I suppose if ours had been a family of bankers, I would have graduated and then moved on to become an officious clerk seated behind a counter with a prune-faced expression as I counted pound notes and stamped documents all day. But Braydens have always been in the military. So that’s where most of us went for lack of knowing anything different.”
Dahlia shook her head. “You make it sound as though it is nothing. But your family is extraordinary.”
He laughed. “Considering all the Farthingale-Brayden matches occurring lately, I’d say you Farthingales are quite extraordinary, too. Although our families will have to stop marrying after this generation, or else we’ll be as inbred as the old royal dynasties of Europe.”
“Ugh!” Heather cried, “That is the most unromantic thing I’ve ever heard.”
He laughed. “Sorry.”
They walked along the Serpentine and then turned back to return to Chipping Way. Ronan considered mentioning his search for a new house but decided to put it off until later in the week. He wasn’t certain Miranda’s friend would accept to sell her house to him or that he would like it. He also wasn’t certain whether having Miranda help him search was one of his brightest ideas. It could very easily turn into a disaster.
Since he and Dahlia were now walking a little behind Heather and Violet, he took the opportunity to ask about the book. “I have some time today. Do you want to start now or wait a few more days?” He’d managed a quick word with Violet during their walk and knew she was more than eager to lend them her library for privacy any time they wished.
But Romulus would return next week, and he did not want to impose on their time alone. He was eager to start this very day.
“If that book can help me get over Gerald, then I’d like us to read it as soon as possible.”
&nb
sp; “I’m glad, Dahlia. You deserve better than that weasel.”
They returned to Violet’s house, and Dahlia ran next door to retrieve it while they removed their cloaks and settled in the parlor for tea and a light repast.
Dahlia returned with the book shortly, her cheeks pink from the outdoors. She sank onto the chair beside his and handed it over. “Here, Ronan. I hope you have more luck with it than I’ve had.”
He tucked it on the seat between them. “Why do you say that?”
“Seriously? When was the last time you were humiliated in front of all your friends and family by a sweetheart caught...um...that...way? I’m sure it has never happened to you, nor will it ever.”
He saw that she was getting overwrought again and wanted to reach out to take her hand. But they were not alone, and Heather and Violet were hanging upon his every word. “I’m not suggesting it was well done, but it did get rid of the man who was clearly wrong for you. And there is no doubt he was wrong for you.”
“What are you suggesting? That this book brought it about?” She stared at the book’s faded, red leather cover and spoke to it. “Next time, try to be a little more subtle, will you?”
None of them found it strange she was talking to a book.
The ladies believed it held magical properties.
Ronan knew a little about The Book of Love since Joshua had tried to read bits of it to him and Robbie several months ago. Of course, at the time, he and Robbie had wanted no part of it. Too bad. He wished he had been paying closer attention. “Have you finished your tea, Dahlia?” he asked a short while later.
She nodded.
He extended his arm to her. “Come on then. Time to embark on the journey of love.”
She rolled her eyes and made a face, obviously uncomfortable with the notion. “I suppose it is important to learn how not to make a complete ninny of oneself while the man you thought intended to marry you was carrying on right under your nose and then told you that you were worthless.”
He cleared his throat. “Right, looks like we have our work cut out for us.”
They settled in the library, but he kept the door open for the sake of propriety. He knew Violet and Heather were going to put their ear to the wall to listen in on whatever he and Dahlia were saying.
It did not bother him very much. Right now, he and Dahlia were only going to read. He’d get her alone easily enough when the time was right. “Shall I read to you, or do you want to sit side by side and just read silently?”
Her hands were now clasped on her lap. “You read it aloud. My head is in a jumble, and we haven’t even started yet.”
“Very well.” He took a deep breath and commenced. “Love does not come from the heart but from the brain. It is the brain that sends signals throughout the body, telling us what to feel.” He paused a moment, for the next few sentences were devoted to a man’s arousal response, and he did not think this was appropriate material for Dahlia so soon after her beloved had been caught with his pants down about his ankles as he drove himself into another woman.
He cleared his throat. “This is how our senses are stimulated. By touch, taste, sight, smell, and hearing.”
He glanced at Dahlia.
Her cheeks were a gentle pink and her eyes, as she looked at him, were curious and trusting. “Joshua read this part to me and Robbie a few months ago,” he said. “So I’m familiar with it. This opening chapter deals primarily with male responses, but I think the same would apply in reverse. For a man to win the heart of a woman, he would have to please her senses as well.”
She nodded. “We know what can happen when the affection is all one-sided.”
This is why he was glad they were reading the book together. She was doing exactly what he feared, berating herself and judging herself too harshly. As though any of what Wainscott did to her was her fault. The wretch had purposely duped and manipulated this guileless girl.
Ronan did not respond to her remark and read on. “A man’s sense receptacles do not operate in quite the same way as the female’s. Nor does a man’s brain. It is very different from the female brain.”
She snorted. “I’ll say. I would never have treated Gerald the way he treated me.”
“Because you are a far better person, Dahlia.” He returned his gaze to the book and read on about the differences but took the liberty of condensing it to a more palatable form. “What the author is saying is that men are guided by their brains to procreate in order to sire offspring. Unchecked, they will simply go about siring as many offspring as possible. A woman’s brain is guided by her need to protect herself and the offspring she delivers into the world. For this, she requires the male to remain by her side while she is at her most vulnerable.”
He paused again to glance at Dahlia. “A man will look at any and all women to make a quick assessment regarding her ability to bear his children. Is she too old? Too young? Too sickly or frail? And while a man will ultimately peruse a woman’s entire body, his first gaze is on her...”
Breasts.
He cleared his throat.
“Ronan, you are blushing.”
“Am I?”
“Yes, you know you are. What does a man look at first?” She cast him a mirthless smile. “No need to spare my delicate sensibilities. I have already seen my supposed beloved with his pants down as he...well, you know what he was doing with Lady Alexandra. I don’t think you can say anything that would shock me worse.”
He placed his hand over hers. “I know. I’m so sorry you had to witness that.”
“Do read on. Please.”
“Where was I? Oh, yes. Here.” He picked up where he left off. “When a man looks at a woman, he is making a series of quick assessments regarding her ability to bear his children. Is she too old? Too young? Too sickly or frail? And while a man will ultimately peruse a woman’s entire body, his first gaze is on her breasts.”
“I suppose it makes sense,” she said. “The female has to feed her newborn infant, so the man would want to know that she can do it or else risk the infant starving. Unless they found a wet nurse, of course. What else does the book say?”
“Yes, that is exactly right, Dahlia. While a man will ultimately peruse a woman’s entire body, his first gaze is...there...because they are the source of life, the source of milk for his newborn children. So, if he does not like the look of them, he will pass her over as a suitable mate.”
He paused again to gaze at her. “Wainscott did not pass you over for that reason. Your body is spectacular, if you want my opinion. And I am not saying this to flatter you. I am saying it because it is a fact. That weasel behaved abominably toward you because he is greedy and ambitious. He would have married a cow if she came with a title and a pot of gold.”
She laughed softly. “So, you still like him, then?”
He laughed along with her, for this was their private jest. He’d detested the man from the first, and Dahlia knew it. “So we’ve learned the man’s need is to spread his seed. But he also has to protect the children he sires, or they will die.”
She nodded. “How does a man reconcile these two urges?”
“The author states that a man’s brain functions on two levels. In effect, he has two brains. One is simple or low, and the other is a higher brain allowing for more complex thought. When a man’s brain is at its lowest function, he is only thinking of–”
He groaned and shook his head. “He is only thinking of sex. Sorry, Dahlia. Just let me know if you find this too offensive, and I’ll stop.”
“Heavens, no. These are the good bits, aren’t they?”
He grinned. “It is his simple brain at work, the one formed thousands of years ago at the dawn of Creation when men first walked the primeval earth. Very little thought occurs when the man’s sexual urges are aroused. Perhaps no thought at all.”
She was staring at him now, studying him quite intently as she took in his features. “I cannot imagine you ever behaving so crudely, Ronan.”
&nbs
p; “I don’t know. This book is not far off the mark. You see a better side of me because that is how I am when I’m around you. A better man. Not that I am a fiend by any means whenever I am not around you, but neither am I a saint.”
“Oh, I see.” She pursed her lips in thought. “But I cannot imagine you doing what Gerald–”
“Never! There is no excuse for what he did. It was low and venal. As I said, I am not a saint, but to hurt someone as he did you? Wouldn’t ever happen.”
“That’s because Braydens are protective by nature. You are no exception.”
He knew it was true. He couldn’t be around Dahlia without wanting to take her in his arms and shield her from the ills of the world. Yet, he also liked that she wanted something more in life and was determined to make a mark for herself. “So, we now know that very little thought occurs when a man is using his low brain.” He read on. “But that is good. It is evidence of his compelling need to breed heirs with any fertile female he comes across.”
“Wait, is this condoning Gerald’s behavior?”
“Hell, no. He wasn’t in a lustful frenzy over Lady Alexandra. What he was doing was cold and calculated.”
“What about you, Ronan?” She no longer appeared stiff and tense, but had propped one elbow on the reading table and was resting her cheek on her hand.
“What about me?”
“Have you ever felt this way about a woman? So wild for her, you could not control yourself?”
“Perhaps when I was an idiot boy of fourteen. Women were new and fascinating creatures for me back then.”
“But the fascination quickly wore off?”
He laughed softly. “No, women remain a fascinating puzzle to me. But it did not take me long to move beyond the desire for a quick tumble. In any event, it is not in my nature to chase every woman I see.”
“Of course not. Why would you need to when they all come to you?”
“I assure you, they do not. Nor do I encourage them. At one time, I was content with meaningless dalliances, but I am well beyond that now. It is a natural progression, I think. To move beyond that low brain thinking and desire something more permanent. When I marry, I will be faithful to my wife. It is the Brayden way. It is my way.”