Lady August

by Becky Michaels

  August practiced while she waited for her aunt in the entry hall the night of their dinner with Brooks and his mother. They were due at Dover Street in a half hour. “It is so refreshing to see a young girl taking her lessons seriously,” her aunt said from the second-floor landing.

  August abruptly stopped, embarrassed to be caught. She turned and looked at her aunt, who was smiling at her. August demurely clasped her white-gloved hands in front of her, flushing.

  She wore all new clothes that evening, all the way down to her stockings, chemise, and stays. Her gown that night was light pink and the frilliest thing she had ever worn, what with its ruffles and floral-shaped appliques across the bodice and skirt. The added feather in her hair had her questioning whether or not she had turned into some sort of exotic bird.

  “You look splendid, my dear,” her aunt said when she reached the bottom of the stairs. She kissed her niece on the cheek, and despite believing she looked ridiculous, August couldn’t stop smiling. She felt like a proper lady on her way to dinner with a man she liked—a man she wanted desperately but shouldn’t. Brooks was impossible to decipher, which made him dangerous. One minute he was passionately kissing her in her aunt’s library; the next he said he only wanted to be friends.

  August and her aunt took the dowager duchess’s carriage to Dover Street. Jenkins opened the door and took them to the drawing room, where Brooks and his mother rose to greet them. From the way he stared at her throughout the evening, she thought he might feel the same as she did about her birdlike appearance.

  Returning to the drawing room after dinner, August and Brooks sat beside each other in front of the fire. Mrs. Brooks and Lady Ramsbury sat opposite of them, loudly conversing while August and Brooks only listened. When she was sure her aunt wasn’t paying attention, August turned to Brooks. “You do not like it,” she whispered.

  He looked back at her, surprised. “I beg your pardon?”

  “My dress. My hair. You do not like it. Any of it. You think I look as ridiculous as I feel.”

  Brooks smiled, looking down and away from her. He seemed to be chuckling to himself, and August crossed her arms, carefully watching him.

  “On the contrary, I think you look beautiful,” he said, his eyes meeting hers once more. When August realized he was paying her a genuine compliment, she quickly turned away, blushing. “I even like the feather.”

  August’s head snapped in his direction again, her eyes widening. “Now you are teasing me,” she said, fighting back a smile. She glanced at Mrs. Brooks and Lady Ramsbury, who also wore a feather in her hair. “I should ask your mother where she buys her headpieces. As you can see, my aunt has a penchant for feathers.”

  They both laughed, drawing the attention of the two older women. Her aunt smiled.

  “Is August telling you about her dancing lessons, Mr. Brooks?” Lady Ramsbury asked. August looked at her, confused. There was a twinkle in her aunt’s eye that made August suspect the woman was up to no good. “She was awkward at first, but she has improved a great deal in only the past week.” Her aunt stood, walking toward the pianoforte in the corner of the room. “August loves to practice. August, why don’t you practice with Mr. Brooks? I will play you something.”

  August felt her face turning red. She was nowhere good enough at dancing to partner with Mr. Brooks, already a full-fledged member of society. Still, he rose, offering her his hand. “I am sure she is already more skilled than me, for I am the worst dancer I know, despite my many more years of experience than her.”

  She did not respond, staring at his extended hand instead. She nervously swallowed as her aunt sat down at the pianoforte, testing a few keys. Reluctantly, August took the solicitor’s hand, letting him guide her to the open space behind the instrument. Mrs. Brooks watched from her seat in front of the fire, smiling at them. August’s heart pounded as if it might escape from her chest at any moment.

  “Are you certain this is a wide enough space for dancing?” August asked, still uncertain, even as Brooks took her into his arms.

  “Do not worry—I have you,” he said. Lady Ramsbury launched into a waltz on the pianoforte, and Brooks spun August about the room, holding her much too close for comfort. She was clumsy at first, but eventually, they found their rhythm. She eased herself into the movements, becoming much more confident.

  “You are right, Lady Ramsbury,” Brooks said. He smiled down at August, who was beginning to feel a little breathless. “She is a quick study.”

  Lady Ramsbury did not answer, playing for a few more minutes. Mrs. Brooks applauded when she was through, and August and Brooks took a bow. She started to giggle as they did, feeling even more ridiculous than she did five minutes ago.

  “She will be a hit at Lord Ridlington’s ball,” Lady Ramsbury said.

  Brooks stiffened beside her. He turned toward the dowager duchess. “Lord Ridlington’s ball? Will that be her first outing this season?”

  Lady Ramsbury nodded. For a brief moment, his expression was unreadable, then he turned to August and smiled. “Continue practicing, and you shall do fine.”

  “I asked Lord Ridlington to send you and your mother invitations as well,” August told him. His mother gasped from behind her. August turned.

  “Oh, how kind of you!” Mrs. Brooks said. “I should love to attend the marquess’s ball if he invites us. Wouldn’t you?”

  Mother and son looked at each other for a moment, appearing as if they were having an entire conversation with only their eyes. “I suppose,” Brooks finally said with a slight shrug. “Ridlington would make for a fine client.”

  August’s face fell. She watched as Brooks walked back toward the fire, sitting down once more, leaving her to stare after him. How foolish of her to believe he would attend for her sake alone.

  The evening was over soon after that, and Lady Ramsbury turned to her niece when they were safely back inside her carriage, on their way back to Park Street. “Did you have a good evening, August? Brooks seems quite taken with you if you’re still hoping to count him amongst your list of suitors this season.”

  August shook her head. “You are mistaken, Aunt. Brooks and I are only friends. He is not interested in matrimony.”

  Lady Ramsbury made a dismissive sound, not quite believing her niece. But August knew the truth, and they rode on in silence.

  * * *

  In the weeks leading up to Lord Ridlington’s ball, the dowager duchess barred all men from her drawing room. The dinner party that took place the night of August’s arrival was a final soiree of sorts for Lady Ramsbury and her many friends. She even sent Ridlington away on many occasions, though the man seemed more interested in visiting Lady Ramsbury than August.

  “You do not have to turn him away for my sake,” August said one day while working on her embroidery by the front window of the drawing room. She watched the discouraged young marquess walk down the street away from her aunt’s mansion with his head dipped low.

  When Lady Ramsbury didn’t say anything, August turned toward her. “Besides, I doubt anyone would think he comes here to see me.”

  The dowager duchess bristled. “Whether he is here to see you or me, I should not like either of our names to appear next to a man’s in the society papers. We must protect your reputation at all costs.”

  August’s shoulders drooped. “Yes, Aunt,” she said sullenly, returning to her needle and thread.

  Truthfully, August would have liked to have some social interaction that wasn’t her aunt or one of her tutors. She hadn’t seen anyone else since their dinner with Brooks and his mother a week ago. She wished Brooks would call, but the solicitor seemed to have forgotten her.

  One afternoon, though, Lady Ramsbury, visibly excited, glided into the drawing room while August practiced her scales on the pianoforte. “We are to have two guests this afternoon,” she said, causing August to freeze. She turned to her aunt.

  “Guests?”

  The dowager duchess nodded. “You remember Lady Sara
h Talbot and Mrs. Ferguson from my dinner party, don’t you?”

  August narrowed her eyes. She had met so many people that she couldn’t recall either woman. Her aunt sighed, shooting August an exasperated look. “Lady Sarah is Ridlington’s older sister,” she explained. “She is married to a banker, Mr. Talbot. Surely you remember meeting them.”

  Slowly, August nodded, vaguely recalling her aunt introducing her to a couple in their late thirties that evening. Her husband was friendly enough, but Lady Sarah was quiet. They left soon after dinner.

  “Mrs. Ferguson is a widow like me,” Lady Ramsbury continued. “Her husband died at the Battle of Waterloo along with my husband’s brother.”

  “And why have you invited them both here?” August asked, furrowing her brow. Before her aunt could answer, a servant walked into the room, carrying four books and placing them on the table between the settees.

  August stood up from the pianoforte, walking toward the leather bound tomes. She picked one up, looking inside at the first few pages, before turning to her aunt again. “The Italian?” she asked, smiling. “I did not realize you were a fan of Miss Radcliffe.”

  “I thought we could start a book club for ladies,” her aunt explained. “You can practice your conversation skills as we discuss the various texts. It was Lady Sarah’s idea.”

  August raised her brow, wondering why Lady Sarah would care about her conversation skills. “And she chose The Italian to start?”

  The dowager duchess grinned. “No—that was my idea.”

  Lady Sarah and Mrs. Ferguson arrived at Park Street only a half hour later. Lady Sarah was much friendlier upon meeting August this second time, kissing her on both cheeks as if they were long lost relations. Although she was in her late thirties, Lady Sarah’s youthful good looks hadn’t faded quite yet.

  Mrs. Ferguson was the first to notice the copies of The Italian on the table. She turned to Lady Ramsbury with wide eyes. “I thought we were here to help the girl with her conversation, not corrupt the poor thing!”

  “You do not have to worry about corrupting me,” August countered. “I have already read it—twice.”

  Her aunt took one of the books from the table, handing it to August. “Then you can be the first to read today,” she said. “We will read a chapter at a time and then discuss.”

  And such was how Lady Ramsbury’s book club began. They spent much more time discussing than reading, often going off on tangents entirely unrelated to Miss Radcliffe or her novel. “Lady August, if you learn anything from this book, let it be this: beware the marriage-minded mothers of the ton,” Lady Sarah said after a long discussion about the hero’s mother.

  Mrs. Ferguson solemnly nodded in agreement. “It’s true. Captain Ferguson’s mother always thought I was beneath her son. I don’t think he would have proposed if it weren’t for my connections with your aunt.”

  “Nonsense!” Lady Ramsbury exclaimed. “Captain Ferguson would have proposed with or without his mother’s approval. I only hastened the process.” She turned to her niece. “I have never told you, but I’m quite the matchmaker. I can always tell which engagements are coming at the end of every season.”

  August thought of what her aunt said on their way back from Dover Street. Brooks seems quite taken with you if you’re still hoping to count him amongst your list of suitors this season.

  But then Lady Sarah laughed, interrupting August’s reverie. “Do not let your aunt trick you, Lady August. The dowager duchess is only right half the time.”

  Her aunt scoffed. “When have I been wrong?”

  “Why, you were wrong about me and Mr. Talbot! I’m quite sure you were as shocked as everyone else when we became engaged.” She turned to August. “Mr. Talbot and I have only been married for five years. I was an older bride, and everyone once thought I would die a spinster, including your aunt.”

  Lady Ramsbury gasped. “That’s not true!”

  “It’s true,” Mrs. Ferguson said with a firm nod at August, who bit back a smile without much success. As her aunt and Lady Sarah argued, August looked up to see two men in the doorway of the drawing room. Her eyes widened when she recognized Brooks being led toward them by a footman.

  “Brooks!” she exclaimed. The dowager duchess and Lady Sarah ceased arguing immediately. All three older women turned and looked at the solicitor standing behind them. He offered a swift bow. “What are you doing here?”

  “I thought I would come and see how your lessons were progressing,” he said, looking at the three women and the novels in their hands. He furrowed his brow. “What is this? Some sort of bluestocking society?”

  “If you are comparing me to the late Mrs. Montagu, then I’ll take that as a compliment,” Lady Ramsbury curtly said. Brooks smiled, glancing at the novels in the women’s hands.

  “I’m not sure Mrs. Montagu’s society discussed the works of Miss Radcliffe at their literary breakfasts,” he replied skeptically.

  “But you like Miss Radcliffe!” August exclaimed, recalling their time in the carriage when she read to him. Brooks flushed underneath August’s accusatory gaze.

  “True,” he reluctantly admitted. He turned to Lady Ramsbury. “I have some business matters to discuss with Lady August. I know you have a rule against gentleman callers before Ridlington’s ball, but I thought you could make an exception since I am her solicitor.”

  August looked to her aunt, who shot Brooks a suspicious look. After a few moments, she finally relented. “Very well,” she said.

  August followed Brooks to the other end of the room, where a row of bay windows overlooked the street. “So now you are my solicitor?” August asked.

  “Haven’t I always been?”

  She shrugged. “I thought you were my friend.”

  A set of chairs, a table, and a chessboard sat in the corner of the drawing room. He gestured toward it. “Do you play?” he asked.

  August shook her head. “No. Lady Ramsbury doesn’t either. It was her husband’s. I believe that’s the only reason she keeps it there.”

  “Would you like me to teach you?”

  Brooks began walking toward the table and chairs. August watched him, her mouth slightly open as she did. “I thought you had important business matters to discuss with me.”

  He shot her a rueful look. “I’m afraid that was only a weak excuse to spend time with you, but perhaps if I can teach you how to play chess, we can add that to your list of accomplishments. That’s the only way your aunt will approve.”

  August stealthily looked over her shoulder at her aunt and the other women. They were all leaning in close as her aunt whispered something to them. Sighing, August walked toward where Brooks sat in front of the chessboard.

  “You wanted to spend time with me?” she asked. Brooks nodded. “But why?”

  Brooks smiled at her, and she realized then that he could be pretty charming when he wasn’t acting stubborn or rude. “We are friends, aren’t we? I wanted to make sure your aunt wasn’t driving you mad with all those lessons she talked about at dinner. I should have known better, though.” He glanced over August’s shoulder at the women in front of the fire. “It would seem she cannot go too long without holding court.”

  “It was Lady Sarah’s idea, actually,” August explained. “To help me practice my conversation skills.”

  Brooks gestured to the chair across from him. “Sit. You can practice your conversation skills with me and play chess.”

  August sat, and Brooks began explaining the rules of the game. They seemed complicated at first, but after a few moves, she was starting to understand.

  “Why are you here, Brooks?” she asked after taking one of his pawns with her rook. He immediately retaliated by having his bishop take that same rook. She frowned.

  “In chess, you must always be thinking a few steps ahead,” he warned.

  August glared at him. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  Brooks sighed. “Can a man not visit his friend after not see
ing her for a week?”

  “I suppose, but you should know my aunt has become suspicious of you,” August whispered as she made her next move. “She thinks you’re quite taken with me.”

  Brooks immediately laughed, causing August to pout. Was the idea of Brooks being interested in her truly that amusing? She cleared her throat. “I would be inclined to agree if I did not know your desire to avoid marriage. You did kiss me, after all.”

  He froze for a moment in the middle of a move, then quickly completed it, taking one of her pawns. But August did not care. She stared at him. “Why did you kiss me, Brooks?”

  His eyes finally met hers, and she held his gaze for a long while. She moved forward in her chair, letting her knees brush against his. He jumped away as if she hurt him.

  “Is everything all right over there?” Lady Ramsbury called out to them. August looked over Brooks’s shoulder at her aunt and the two other women.

  “Everything’s fine, Aunt,” August called back. “Brooks was only telling me about an investment I could make with my fortune, and then he offered to teach me how to play chess. Don’t you think it will make me even more accomplished if I know how?”

  “I suppose,” her aunt hesitantly agreed. The three women turned back to each other, leaning in and whispering again.

  August turned back to Brooks, smiling. He pursed his lips. “I should not have come,” he said, moving to stand up. August reached out, grabbing him by the wrist.

  “Won’t you stay until we finish our game?” she asked. Whether she liked it or not, she had missed Brooks, and she enjoyed his company. She didn’t want him to go. “I will not ask again. I promise.”