The Rake’s Hesitant Bride: Historical Regency Romance (Ladybirds of Birdwell Book 2)

by Ella Edon

  "It all looks perfect. And yes, I do enjoy coffee very much." The three of them sat down, and Merope took her time to carefully pour and serve the coffee, making sure it was sweetened to everyone's liking.

  "Well, now," Mrs. Robbins began, after a nice, long sip of her coffee. "I will start by saying, Mr. Brookford, that I believe I do remember you from the time when you and Merope were both quite young. I do not recall seeing you or your family too often, with your home Albany some eight miles from here. "

  Mrs. Robbins took another sip of her coffee. "Ah, I do so enjoy it when it is still hot. Did Merope tell you that we order all of our wheat flour directly from Albany farm’s mill? We find it quite satisfactory."

  "I am glad to know that," said Mr. Brookford. "She served me the most wonderful sweet cinnamon bread when I called here a few days ago. I'm glad the flour was worthy of it."

  "Just so. Tell me, Mr. Brookford: I am most curious to know how long you plan to remain at Birdwell. I know you have been in London for some time. I thought you intended to live there and become a barrister."

  Mr. Brookford set down his nearly empty coffee cup and nodded briefly. "I did," he said quietly. "But I had also intended to marry Miss Angela Stone and move with her to London.

  "You have a right to know, of course Mrs. Robbins, that all of the stories you have heard are true. Miss Stone married a very wealthy Frenchman and moved with him to his country. It all happened quite suddenly, but know that I feel that she truly did me a favor by leaving, and I feel quite ready to start again now . . . and quite happy that I had the good fortune to meet your beautiful and accomplished daughter - again."

  Merope reached for her own coffee cup and took a casual sip. He was doing quite well, telling her mother everything she would want to hear . . . and there was no denying his open and complete honesty.

  "To answer your question," Mr. Brookford said, "My cousin, the earl and his wife, have invited me to stay at Worthington at least through cubbing season. I could not resist, and so I plan to be just one mile outside of Birdwell for at least that long."

  "Cubbing," said Mrs. Robbins, with a slight frown.

  "Cubbing is what they call the sort of practice hunts early in the season, Mother,” Merope was quick to add. “They are held in September or October. It is the time when the horses are conditioned, and the young hounds are trained."

  "My dear, I know very well what cubbing is. I am just wondering whether there is any chance that you yourself could get an invitation."

  "I – myself?" Merope felt truly baffled. "You think I should get an invitation to the cubbing rides?"

  Her mother simply gazed at her with a serious expression. After a moment, Merope burst out laughing. "How could I possibly do that? We have no horse of any kind, let alone a hunter. I'm sorry to tell you, Mr. Brookford, that I have barely ever sat a horse at all – not a work horse, not a pony, and certainly not a fine, fast hunter.”

  She turned to look at Mr. Brookford and shrugged her shoulders. "I am not ashamed to tell you all that, for again, it is a point of simple honesty. I could not take part in such an event, even if I were to be invited."

  Merope's eyes narrowed as she looked across the table. "And I cannot imagine why my mother would think I could."

  "Now, Merope," she said, in a voice as sweet as the grated sugar. "You have not thought this through all the way. The earl has many horses at his disposal. Is it not possible that Mr. Brookford could arrange for you to join the cubbing rides in the fall?"

  Even Mr. Brookford seemed to be stunned at her very blunt suggestion. "Oh – why – why, Mrs. Robbins, that is a splendid idea. I could speak to the earl. I cannot imagine that he would not allow me to invite a guest, especially so lovely a guest as Miss Robbins."

  "A guest who is already well known to him and his wife," said Mrs. Robbins, with a firm nod.

  "She certainly is. I will discuss it with the earl when next I – "

  "Mr. Brookford. Mother," said Merope, again placing both hands flat on the table. "It is so good of you to make arrangements on my behalf. But it has not escaped my notice that neither of you has asked me whether or not I, myself, might wish to take part in something like this."

  The three of them sat in silence. Mr. Brookford looked rather embarrassed, while Mrs. Robbins simply raised an eyebrow and looked very coolly at her daughter. "Quite right, Miss Robbins," Mr. Brookford finally said. "Allow me to ask you, then: If I am able to arrange for a horse and instruction for you, would you join me for Earl Worthington's cubbing hunts this fall?"

  Again, Merope glanced from one of them to the other. "As I stated, Mr. Brookford – " though she looked directly at her mother – "I have no riding experience at all."

  "That is quite fine, quite fine. The cubbing rides are not very demanding. They are not like the regular hunts that cover miles of countryside in the winter months. I am certain that it would only take you a little while to grow accustomed to riding a kind horse over the hills of Worthington."

  When she made no answer, he turned to her and tried to smile. "Please say you will come, Miss Robbins. Now that I have thought of it, I cannot imagine going on the fall rides without having you there."

  Merope took a deep breath, and then did her best to give them both the impression that she was considering whether or not to accept Mr. Brookford's offer. At last, she folded her hands, on top of the table and smiled up at him. "That is very generous of you. If the earl is agreeable to such an arrangement, then I should be pleased and honored to learn to ride, and join him – and you – at Worthington."

  James broke into a beaming smile. "I will do, whatever I must, to make certain the earl is agreeable, Miss Robbins. And I shall very much look forward to your first lesson. As soon as I know the day, I shall call in and let you know."

  “Perhaps,” Mrs. Robbins added. “You should invite Sally Henson to accompany you, Mr. Brookford. She is my daughter’s good friend, and would make a good chaperone, in my absence.”

  “Consider it done, Mrs. Robbins. I do recall Miss Henson mentioning that she would like to become better acquainted with riding. She will be an excellent addition,” Mr. Brookford said.

  Her mother looked pleased, though Merope knew that to most she would simply look serious. "I think that will do very nicely, Mr. Brookford. It is a kind offer you make. I am sure Merope will very much enjoy learning to ride."

  "I will see to it that she enjoys it as well.” With that, Mr. Brookford stood up, and bowed slightly to both of them. "I must be going. Please accept my thanks to both of you for a cup of the best coffee in Birdwell. I shall be in touch."

  Merope remained sitting, smiling politely at him and giving him a little nod of her head. After a moment, he was gone, closing the front door of the inn behind him.

  Chapter Ten

  The instant the door clicked shut, Merope leaped up and made straight for the kitchen. "Mother!" she hissed, hurrying past. "Mother! Come in here! Quickly!"

  She got to the kitchen doorway and turned around to wait. Merope frowned as Mrs. Robbins kept her composure and walked casually through the dining room, nodding politely at the several diners who were still there, enjoying coffee and tea and a mid-morning meal. Finally, she got to the empty kitchen and closed the door after her.

  "Merope! Whatever is the trouble? That seemed to go very well. He certainly is handsome, I'll grant you that."

  "Handsome? That is the least of it! He is well off in his own right. He is qualified to be a barrister. He has a fine estate with a house, land and a mill out at Albany. He is the future Viscount of Albany, and he is a first cousin of Earl Worthington. No gentleman need be handsome when he has all of that to begin with!"

  "Then – what on earth is the trouble with him? And with you? Why are you so shaken, like a cat, staring down a pack of dogs?"

  Merope closed her eyes and tried to regain her composure. "You heard him. He has invited me to join him and the earl at the cub hunts this fall."

  "Yes, he
has. You are very fortunate to get an invitation like that. There can be no question that you will go."

  Pacing the kitchen, Merope could only feel her distress rising. Didn't her mother understand? "I have never ridden a horse in my life. How could I, living all my life in this inn? I do not even own a pair of leather gloves for riding! What will I do?"

  "First, you will sit down right here at this table and regain your wits. I have never seen you in such a state." Her mother stood like a statue beside the chair, waiting, until Merope gave up, walked over, and sat down at the kitchen table.

  "That's better. Now then, I am assuming you will despise the riding lessons, not only because they are unaccustomed, but because you will have someone telling you exactly how to do something when you yourself know nothing. You will be at Mr. Brookford's mercy, you will look foolish and you will be uncomfortable."

  Merope scowled and searched for some retort, but found none.

  "But if you are wise enough not to give up, not to snap at him, and not to spend one instant of time complaining to him, you may end up with him being exactly where you want him— down on one knee in front of you and asking you to marry him."

  She closed her eyes and turning her face down, drawing a deep breath. There was no question, but that her mother was right. "All right," Merope answered, through clenched teeth. "I will go. And I will get through every moment of it. I only hope you are right." She was terrified of Sally Henson being a better rider. Merope wouldn’t be able to act superior when she was clearly unskilled.

  "Of course I’m right. I saw him there at the table, pretending to drink coffee, when in truth, he saw nothing but you, and heard nothing but your voice. You have nothing to worry about."

  A little more slowly now, Merope stood up, opening her eyes. "But I have nothing to wear for riding."

  "Yes. True. We will go straight over to Fabrics, Feathers & Fineries and order you a broadcloth riding habit. I know they made at least one for Lady Worthington, and certainly for some of the other women out here, too. They can no doubt make one for you."

  She took a deep breath. "I will also need leather gloves. And a pair of boots for riding."

  Her mother sighed. "As soon as they've finished taking your measure across the street, we'll pay a visit to the Linnets and rush order whatever you need. That will cost even more, but we have little choice."

  Merope closed her eyes again, covering her face with her hands. "Oh, it's all so much! Couldn't I just follow the hunt in a carriage, and not worry with any of this?"

  "Merope Robbins! Not another word! Get my leather purse and we will leave right away, before you can change your mind again!"

  In a moment, the front door of the Robbins Inn slammed shut behind them as the two women walked outside and started across the cobblestone street.

  Several days later, Merope sat at the small dressing table in her upstairs room at the Robbins Inn. "Use plenty of pins, Mother," she said, watching in the table mirror as her mother twisted up her blonde hair and fastened it securely into place. "If I am to be galloping across the countryside, I must not have my hair falling down into my face."

  "It will not fall," her mother said, sliding the last of the pins into place. "Now, stand up and let me see you."

  Merope stood up and turned to see herself in the large mirror that stood against the wall. She wore her beautiful and very expensive new riding habit, made of a deep blue broadcloth that looked to be the same color as the twilight. It fit perfectly and draped very nicely, modestly showing off her figure.

  On her feet, were tall black riding boots, and in one hand, was a new pair of black leather gloves. "It does look very smart. Very, very smart," her mother proclaimed, nodding in approval. "You would fit in on any hunt field in that. Now, one more thing . . . "

  She picked up the matching dark blue bonnet, with its light blue ribbons and feather, and placed it on Merope's head. "Very good, indeed," she said, tying the ribbons under her daughter's chin. "Very good. No man could fail to notice this!"

  Merope herself was quite pleased at what she saw in the mirror. The deep blue made her grey eyes look to have the same shade and set off her very fair complexion quite well. She gave her reflection a slow, confident smile, looking forward to seeing Mr. Brookford's expression when he saw her dressed like this.

  There was a polite knock at the closed door. Mrs. Robbins walked over and opened it. "Both Miss Henson and Miss Merope's gentleman caller are here, ma'am," said Hilda, the younger of the two servants. "And right on time, at one minute before nine!"

  "Thank you, Hilda. Merope!" her mother said. "If you feel you can force yourself away from the looking glass long enough, you may want to go downstairs for Mr. Brookford before Sally Henson steals him away."

  With one final glance at herself, Merope adjusted the bonnet slightly, took a deep breath, and started for the door. "I'm rather looking forward to seeing the cut of this habit, when finally seated up on a horse, but that will have to wait until we arrive at Worthington," she said. "I hope it looks as well when riding in a carriage."

  "I am sure it will," said her mother, and together they walked down the stairs to the main floor of the inn.

  Crossing the dining room floor, Merope kept her eyes on the front door. She was well aware of the admiring glances of the patrons, who were seated at the tables and having their morning coffee or tea – and she especially noted the lingering looks of the men. Perhaps this would not be so bad after all.

  She pulled open the heavy front doors and walked outside, closely followed by her mother – and then stopped, blinking in the morning light and quite confused about what she saw.

  "Good morning, Mrs. Robbins! Miss Robbins! Such a lovely day, Miss Robbins, for your first riding lesson."

  Sitting on his horse – a tall horse, very slim and sleek, with a red-brown coat and long black mane and tail that shone in the sunlight – was James Brookford. "And may I say, Miss Robbins, you do look most wonderful in your riding habit today."

  Sally was standing beside him. She was smiling from ear-to-ear, as though she had triumphed.

  But Merope scarcely heard him. "Where – where is your carriage?" she finally managed to say. "Or even the gig?"

  "Carriage? Why, Miss Robbins, this is to be a riding lesson. You are perfectly dressed for it and so your mount awaits you. I selected him especially for you and Vireo was happy to walk here with him."

  "Mount?" Merope could only stare at the steed that stood beside Vireo, held on a lead line in Mr. Brookford's hand.

  It wasn't a horse. It was a pony – just about the smallest pony Merope had ever seen. His back would not even come up to her waist. He seemed to be solid black, and though his coat was clean, it looked rough beside Mr. Brookford's sleek hunter, as well as the pretty rust-colored mare that Sally was holding the reins to.

  Merope raised an eyebrow, then looked back at her mount. The pony's mane and forelock were so thick and bushy, that they mostly hid his head, except for the two small, sharp-tipped, furry ears sticking up through all that hair. And the tail, too, was nearly long enough for the pony to step on and thick enough for two horses.

  "This is Blackbird," said Mr. Brookford, quite proudly. "He is nearly twenty years old, but quite strong, quite able, and quite agreeable. He was a gift to the dowager countess long ago, for she is fond of ponies, and was quite enamored of this one the moment she saw him. He's from the rugged Shetland Islands, you see, and I am sure he enjoys our mild English countryside very much, compared to the cold and wet of his original home."

  The pony stood as placid as a stone. Merope noticed that he carried a sidesaddle. "I am to ride – this very small pony? He looks like a toy for children," she said, before she could stop herself. “Why, even Sally’s horse is bigger.” So that was why Sally was smiling.

  “I have ridden before,” Sally pointed out. “I am only here to improve my skill.”

  Merope could hear her mother catch her breath, but Mr. Brookford only laughed. "I
suppose he does look rather like a toy. But the new Lady Worthington has been taking her own riding lessons on him - and has found him very ideal. She hoped you might like him, too."

  "But he is so small – and so old," Merope said faintly. "Are you sure it would not be unkind to make him carry me all the way back to Worthington?"

  "I assure you, Miss Robbins, he is perfectly fine. These little fellows are quite strong, and he will scarcely notice that you are in his saddle. Come, now, and I'll help you mount up."

  Merope was right on the verge of turning around and walking back inside. "Mr. Brookford, I was willing to make the attempt to learn to ride. But I thought that would be done in privacy up at Worthington! Do you mean to – to lead me through the streets on this child's pony, and make me the laughingstock of the entire town?"