by Fanny Finch
Myles had only warned Miss Bronson because he had, in fact, known her father when he was still alive. He had known him quite well, and Sir Edward often spoke fondly of his beloved daughter, keeping Myles apprised of her latest accomplishments.
Sir Edward had served in the Navy at the same time as Myles. At one point, he had been his direct superior officer. Myles grew close to him, looking to him as a guide and a solid rock.
A fatherly figure. A man worthy of his respect. A man who had impressed and inspired him with his ability to turn an enemy into a friend. A truly remarkable man that Myles would sorely miss.
A man to whom Myles had made a promise that he would do everything in his power in order to keep.
Myles sighed. He wondered how much this promise was going to cost him. He wondered if his word would be his downfall.
He pushed himself up from his chair and stood in front of the window, gazing out. The floor-to-ceiling glass allowed the sunlight in to warm his face. Outside, the garden of his estate basked in the beautiful day, green grass interrupted by thickets of trees and dotted with flowers.
Lost in his thoughts as he was, the view blurred into a green, brown, and golden color, much like that of Miss Bronson’s hazel eyes.
He had to admit she had struck him as more beautiful than he had expected her to be. When she had looked up at him from underneath the short veil over her face, for a brief moment he had forgotten what his purpose was for going there.
The waves of her blond hair moved around her face in fine strands. He noticed when she brushed it out of the way. It was such a natural movement, he could not help the memory repeating itself in his mind over and over.
Her mother was a good-looking woman and Sir Edward had been a man with a sculpted rugged face, handsome to the extreme. The Marquess of Kent had expected their daughter to be attractive. But once he saw her, he was surprised by how comely she truly was…
Two birds chased each other outside his window before flying away. Their sudden, wild chirping woke him from his daze. Myles shook his head to chase away the most unwelcome thoughts he had been having.
It was not his business to notice if Miss Bronson was or wasn’t beautiful. It mattered not. His mission was to deliver his words of cautiousness and make certain she heeded his warning. Nothing else. If truth be told, he desired to have nothing more to do with her, a woman as incomprehensible as her.
Myles remembered the look of anger that had transformed her face. Her reaction had confused him. It was almost as if she felt threatened by him. Yet, he could swear he had said nothing that could be construed as a threat.
He clasped his large hands behind his back and began to pace back and forth between the desk and the window, covering the width of the room with only a few steps.
Myles had never understood women. He had lost his mother when she died giving birth to his twin sisters. His father later remarried, but Myles cared not for the obnoxious and difficult woman that became his stepmother. Her temperament left him with a sour taste for women. He had chosen his life of seclusion based on the fact that marriage did not appeal to him. After all, one could never lose an argument to themselves.
He knew nothing about women, just that they could be very frightening at times and never seemed to be in the same mood from one moment to the next. From Miss Bronson’s seemingly strange and confusing reaction to his warning, Myles had to assume she was no different.
He had neither the time nor the willingness to deal with her inexplicable behavior. He had only wanted to warn her. He had embarrassed her, he knew that, and she was a stubborn woman. If she had only listened and let him explain, all this would have been over by now.
Frustration slid through him and the Marquess of Kent sighed heavily. It was slowly becoming apparent to him that honoring his promise to Sir Edward would prove much more difficult than what he had initially assumed.
There was a knock on his study door, making him freeze mid-pace for a second before turning to the door. “Come in!” he barked.
The door swung open and his butler entered, followed by a rough-looking man who obviously needed to bathe and change his clothes. He had a pleasant enough face, however, and grinned with only one side of his lips when he saw Myles.
“There ‘e is. How is you, m’lord?”
The butler turned a scathing look to the man before saying, “Ashley Gentry to see you, my lord.”
The Marquess nodded briskly and waved with one hand. “Come in, Mr. Gentry. Have a seat.”
“Thank ye, m’lord.” The man sat on one of the high-backed cushioned chairs in front of the Marquess of Kent’s desk.
“Thank you, Langley. That will be all.”
“Yes, my lord.” The butler’s tone was as cold as the look he was giving the man seated on the fine plush furnishing with his dirty clothes and lilting odor. He turned on his heel and marched out the door, pulling it closed behind him with a gentle click.
Myles was always amused by his butler’s reaction to Ashley Gentry. The man had been coming to his home for months now. Gentry never looked like a respectable gentleman but the fact that his butler could be so judgmental amused the Marquess.
He rounded his desk and sat down in his chair, sliding it closer to Gentry. “Tell me what you have found, Mr. Gentry.”
“M’lord, I’ve got five names fer ye. The young lady ye asked about, Lavinia Bronson…”
“Miss Lavinia Bronson,” Myles corrected Gentry.
Gentry glanced up at him, a confused look on his face. He nodded. “Yes, yes, Miss Lavinia Bronson, she ‘as ‘ad five gentlemen interested in ‘er.”
The Marquess raised his eyebrows. “Five? In the course of only three months?”
The numbers were disturbing but, unfortunately, not entirely unexpected. Sir Edward had been right, Myles thought in a mix of sorrow and anger. These numbers were not a coincidence. They could only mean one thing.
Myles’s mission had just become all the more imperative.
“Do you have their names?” he asked his investigator.
Gentry smiled proudly and nodded. “That I do, my lord. But ye only need two of ‘em. She rejected three of ‘em outright when they proposed. Just shook her head and said no, quick as ye please. The other two, it is but through hushed rumors, m’lord, that I heard these two have expressed interest in courting Miss Bronson.”
Rejecting three outright. That sounded like the feisty Miss Bronson the Marquess of Kent had come to know through her father’s stories. “So who are the two I need to be concerned about?”
“That’d be, lessee…” Gentry pulled a surprisingly clean notepad from his pocket. He took out his pen at the same time and tapped the end of it in an inkwell on the Marquess desk. He flipped the pages. “Here ‘tis, m’ lord. Right here. Lord Franklin Ashdown, a Baron I believe he is, and Sir Henry Astor.”
Myles was aware of the two men his investigator mentioned. Both were handsome, eligible bachelors of the ton, men who were seemingly respected by their peers.
Myles knew better. He knew that the outside appearance of a man did not make him a gentleman. What proved his character and honor was what he did behind the curtains, where it could not be seen.
He did not know if he considered either of those men to be respectable enough for Miss Bronson. The Baron, Franklin Ashdown, had a reputation among the men of the ton. They knew of his rakish ways. The Marquess had to believe Miss Bronson would not fall for his charms.
After all, it was women who did most of the gossiping. Surely, a heartbroken woman from Lord Ashdown’s past would have said something by now, and the news would have spread like wildfire. Was that not how everyone’s private business reached listening ears?
If Miss Bronson had heard such rumors, Myles believed she would be careful around Lord Ashdown. At the funeral, even under those horrific circumstances and through his blunder, he could see she was a highly intelligent woman.
No matter the case, he could not save her from the tragedy of
marriage but he would certainly attempt to help her avoid a particularly miserable one. It was his duty and he would not shirk it. He had to try.
He would not let Miss Bronson end up as another heartbroken woman with a tarnished reputation, left behind by the rakish Lord Ashdown.
For Sir Edward’s sake, of course.
As for Sir Henry Astor, Myles knew him slightly better than Lord Ashdown and had a better opinion of him. Marginally better. He was not known to be a rogue but there was always a chance. Myles was under the impression Sir Edward and Henry Astor’s father had been great friends and had traveled the world together on several occasions, doing business. This created a close friendship between their children, Miss Anna Astor and Sir Henry Astor, and Miss Bronson.
He would not be able to assess Sir Henry’s real motives just from rumor and conjecture. If it came down to it, he would directly ask the man what his intentions were. For now, Myles decided he should focus his attention on Lord Ashdown. It felt imperative that he make sure the man did not ruin Miss Bronson’s reputation. She did not deserve the strife Lord Ashdown would put her through.
No woman did.
He stood up, taking several sheets of paper from Gentry, who was holding them out to him.
“I jotted down some information for ye, m’ lord. But I’m thinkin’ ye already know these two.”
Myles nodded. “I do know them, Mr. Gentry. Thank you for your help. I will send for you the next time I need your help.”
“Ye want me ta keep watchin’ the lady, m’lord?”
“I do. And let me know if you find out anything more about Lord Ashdown or Sir Henry Astor. Anything you think might be important in my investigation.”
“Yes, m’lord. I can do that for ye.”
Gentry was on his feet, bowing and walking backwards as he spoke.
The Marquess watched the man leave the room, wondering if he should make a more significant move in this situation.
He went back around his desk and sat down, pulling a piece of paper forward and dipping his pen in the inkwell. He blotted it and began writing a letter to Miss Bronson. He had to convince her to speak with him.
He could not break Sir Edward’s trust by revealing the secret behind the promise given, but he would make her listen to his warning.
Somehow.
Chapter 3
Lavinia was seated in the library of her home, her legs folded up under her, covered with a blanket. She had her favorite book on her lap and was trying to read, but she had grown too restless once again.
She had spent the long months of the mourning period cooped up in the house with only her mother for company. During that time, she had gone through many of the library books.
The mourning period was nearly over, and Lavinia was sure she would welcome the opportunity to properly leave the house again. Being inside did not help her heal. Today, with her mother gone to visit a cousin whose husband had passed away and needed comfort, Lavinia felt lonelier than ever.
She tipped the book down and raised her head when she suddenly heard the rustling of horses coming up to the front of the house. The library window was open and Lavinia stood up to see who had come for a visit.
She tilted her head outside, bracing herself on the sill. She did not recognize the carriage. She pulled her eyebrows together in confusion until she saw who stepped out into the bright sun. The parasol that the woman popped open immediately did not keep Lavinia from recognizing her.
She leaned out further, waving one arm frantically.
“Anna! Oh, Anna!”
The woman moved her parasol enough to see around it to Lavinia. A smile spread on her face and she immediately started waving back.
“Lavi!”
“I am coming down! Wait for me!”
The woman laughed delightedly.
Lavinia turned around and rushed across the room, her heart beating hard with excitement. Her best friend, Miss Anna Astor, whom she had not seen for some time, had come to visit.
She took the steps down to the bottom floor hurriedly, holding on to the railing with one hand and lifting her long skirt with the other. She looked up when she got to the bottom.
Anna was standing just inside the large foyer, removing her gloves and hat.
Lavinia was surprised to see a well-dressed man with her. It took a moment before she recognized her friend’s brother, Sir Henry Astor.
“Oh, Anna, it is so good to see you!” Lavinia rushed toward her friend. They both lifted their hands, clasping them together and smiling at each other. .
“I hoped you would be here for our little surprise, Lavi. You are looking ravishing, I must say!”
Lavinia gave a quick laugh. “What a wonderful surprise it is, Anna.”
Anna held out her hand to her brother. “You do remember Henry, of course?”
Lavinia nodded and curtsied. “Sir. You are looking well.”
Sir Henry removed his hat, placing it over his chest and bowing at the waist. “Thank you, Miss Bronson. You are looking well yourself. I do hope we have not caught you at an inopportune time. My sister insisted we pay you a surprise visit, as she has not seen you in some time.”
Lavinia nodded. “Indeed, it has been much too long. Worry not, sir, your timing is most welcome. Come, let us enjoy a cup of tea!”
“That sounds quite lovely, thank you.”
Anna and Lavinia joined arms and walked to the stairs together. Sir Henry followed along behind them, a smile plastered on his face.
Once they were all seated in the parlor, their tea delivered and in their hands, Lavinia began to relax. She enjoyed her friend’s company more than any other’s. Anna was nearly always in good spirits, her natural energy spilling out and transfused into anyone she was with.
“Oh, Lavi, I had such a good time abroad. I went to America, you know, and saw many beautiful sights there. It is a pretty land, I must say.” Anna leaned over the small table between them to pick up a biscuit from the tray. “After losing Father, it was what I needed to find my inner peace again. You must consider traveling when you are free to do so. It will benefit your soul, I promise you.”
Lavinia smiled, nodding. Anna had not waited a day after the mourning period for her own father had passed before she packed up and left the country, traveling on her brother’s side while he attended on their family’s business. Lavinia imagined her friend already knew what she felt like. She and her father were as close as Lavinia had been to Sir Edward.
Lavinia had to admit, the months spent restricted by the walls of the house had been some of the hardest in her life. Her mother had been her only company and she rarely wanted to talk about anything other than what her plans were for Lavinia when she was able to participate in the season again. It was a way for her to distract herself from thinking about the loss of Sir Edward. Lavinia recognized the tactic and went along with her mother to give her some relief.
That topic of conversation tired her quickly. She found herself immersed in her books more often than not. The presence of her good friend was a refreshing change. She loved reading, despite her need to wear her spectacles to do so. The books she had available were plentiful. It would take years of reading to get through them all.
But sitting in the library most of the day gave Lavinia a feeling of isolation like she had never felt before. She missed going to plays. She was envious of those who could freely come and go. The restriction of mourning weighed heavy on her mind, not allowing her to heal from her grief.
She watched Anna as she spoke, gesticulating in excitement, her expressions matching the stories she was telling. She even lowered her voice when she repeated something she was told by a gentleman. Her ways made her brother and Lavinia laugh repeatedly. It was so good to see her dear friend again. It brought great relief to Lavinia’s hurting heart.
“And what does she decide to do but to show the letter to her sister!” Anna concluded yet another story, in a voice heavy with incredulity. “I was… oh, absolutely besid
e myself!” she fanned herself with one hand, looking up at the ceiling.
“I am not surprised by that,” Lavinia said.. “Lady Caroline was never very friendly to begin with. I did not find an amiable spirit in her.”
Anna grunted softly. “Oh, Lavi. You do not find amiable spirits in many people. You are much too blunt! You cannot make friends that way, now can you? This is why I am always introducing you to men at the balls. I expect it will be the same this year.”
Lavinia smiled at her friend. “I suppose you assume correctly, Anna. I do have some trouble holding my tongue.”