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

by Ella Edon

  "Well, you are a bit early. Will you have a cup of tea before you go? Or a piece of Laurie's apricot cake?"

  "No, thank you, Mother. I will be fine. Though I will look forward to more of your cinnamon bread when I return."

  Her mother just smiled knowingly. "My dear, if this goes well, I will have to send that cinnamon bread to Albany by special messenger from now on. Let's hope that will be the case!"

  Merope wished she had her mother's optimism, but found no reason to think anything would come of this visit save a week of being Sally's companion – and chaperone. She closed her eyes and had one more thought of trying to avoid it altogether, but it was far too late now.

  "Miss Robbins! It's here. The carriage is here!" William came hurrying into the kitchen. "Come, miss. Henry and I will take the trunk out. But come now. They're waiting!"

  With a little help from a patron who held the door for them, the two men carried the heavy trunk out into the grey and misty day, setting it down on the boardwalk.

  Merope followed, quickly straightening her dark blue wrap and adjusting the ties on her bonnet. It was the same new, dark-blue bonnet she had worn with her riding habit and she was pleased to find that it was flattering with this dress, too.

  And then she stood very still, just staring out towards the street.

  Parked beside the walkway, directly in front of the inn, was a lovely, dark-green barouche – a small, elegant carriage that could carry as many as four people sitting face to face. Its half-top had been thoughtfully raised against the dampness of the day and would provide cover for the two people riding in the back.

  In front of the barouche, were a pair of greys with black manes and tails, only about the size of large ponies, but beautiful, stylish, and a perfect fit for the barouche.

  The driver sat quietly on the box. But standing beside the horses – apparently unhooking their checkreins so they would not fret while standing – was none other than James Brookford.

  "Miss Robbins!" he said, sounding quite pleased as he stepped back up to the walkway. "I am so glad to see you. My family is very much looking forward to meeting you and sincerely hopes you will enjoy your stay."

  Merope began to relax a bit. Mr. Brookford did look wonderful, wearing a long coat in deep green that set off his dark hair and light hazel eyes. She was almost startled at the memory that came surging back as she looked at him – the memory of sitting pressed up against him as his horse rocked them along in exactly the same rhythm, moving together as she breathed in the scent of him that smelled just like sunlight and distant fire . . .

  He stopped in front of her, smiling down and waiting for her to answer. She blinked and made herself come back to the present moment, looking up into those hazel eyes and gently returning his smile. He really did seem happy to see her. Perhaps this would be a better week than she thought.

  "I am sure I will enjoy my stay very much, Mr. Brookford," she responded.

  "Good! Good. I am sure you will, too. Have you only the one trunk?"

  "I do. I hope it is not too much."

  "Not at all. Though we'll have to place it on the floor of the carriage. I don't think it will quite fit on the back. Not to worry! We will find a way."

  Henry and William loaded her trunk into the floor of the barouche.

  "It will serve as a footrest for you all the way there," Henry said. "But no matter. It is not the only trunk on the floor."

  Just as Merope approached the carriage, a figure inside it leaned forward and peered out from under the half-cover with a bright smile. "Merope! Isn't this lovely? Get in, get in, and we can be off!"

  Merope stopped. Sally Henson looked absolutely delighted to be sitting like a queen in the back seat of the barouche and smiled and waved at everyone who walked by. At her feet was her own trunk, Merope saw, and piled up on her lap and on the opposite seat were baskets and leather cases which no doubt held more of Sally's many gowns and bonnets and slippers and gloves.

  Very carefully, allowing Mr. Brookford to take her hand, Merope stepped up into the barouche. She managed to settle herself past the trunks, and the baskets, and sit down on the seat beside Sally. Then Mr. Brookford got in, sitting across from them in what little space was left.

  "Home, Fionn," he called to the driver. The barouche pulled away from the boardwalk and made a long gradual turn in the street, so that it was heading south.

  Once they had left the noisy cobblestones of the Birdwell street behind them and were rolling smoothly down the country road, Merope spoke politely to Mr. Brookford. "Such a lovely pair. I am not sure I have seen horses like them before."

  He smiled proudly. "I like them very much, too. They are – "

  "They are Rain and Cloud, Connemara ponies, perfectly matched and brought to Albany House from the west of Ireland!" Sally broke in. "Mr. Brookford told me all about them after he stopped for me at my home. I was first, of course, since he would pass our farm before reaching Birdwell."

  "Of course," Merope echoed faintly.

  "And the ponies are beautiful, aren't they? Their driver, Fionn, is Irish, too. He came with them! And isn't this pretty green barouche just perfect for them?"

  "It is," said Merope, with a nod. Maybe Sally would see her response even if she did not hear it, for she clearly was not listening to anyone but herself. "I've never seen one so – "

  "Oh, look! There is old Mr. Hawkins, bringing in a wagon of hay for the livery stable," cried Sally, twisting around and hanging half over the side of the carriage to wave wildly to them. "And his wife, too! Good day Mr. Hawkins! Mrs. Hawkins!” Apparently, Sally was determined to wave and call out to everyone they passed, as well as to monopolize the conversation.

  Merope noticed that Sally was wearing a new dress made of the finest cotton muslin, dyed an exquisite shade of pink with fine white ribbon worked into the neckline and the edges of the sleeves. There was a bonnet to match and a shawl of delicate, creamy white wool. From the look of the smooth, brown half-boots on her feet, propped up on the trunks, those were also new and very well made.

  Merope knew that Sally's family made only a modest living at their cottage with their large flocks of chickens, from which they sold eggs, meat, and feathers. It would be very difficult for them to buy Sally even one fine new gown with a matching bonnet and pair of boots. Merope wondered what else was packed down in the trunks, baskets, and cases of Sally's.

  There was little time to think about it now. It seemed certain that the entire time spent in reaching Albany House would be taken up by Sally's constant chatter on every possible subject – and almost constant praise and flattery that was aimed entirely at Mr. Brookford, as though Merope were not even there.

  It was going to be a long two hours.

  It was a pretty drive to Albany House. Fionn, the Irish coachman, kept the Connemara pair alternately walking and jogging, so that they would not become overheated in the warm, damp July afternoon. Merope wanted nothing more than to sit back, enjoy the countryside with its many farms and fields and graceful stands of trees, and make small talk and perhaps a little flirtation with Mr. Brookford herself.

  Each of those points were proving to be impossible.

  Merope found herself gazing at Sally's large trunk, and at her many cases and baskets, most of them piled up around Mr. Brookford as he stayed as far against the side of the barouche as possible. She was growing more curious with every passing moment about how Sally's family could have bought all that for her.

  Eventually, after continuously trying to flatter Mr. Brookford and not getting much of a response out of him, Sally glanced at Merope and then back at the trunk. Then she leaned in close and whispered rather loudly. "Do you know," she began, as if about to tell the most humorous of stories, "that I have four new gowns inside that trunk?"

  "You have – four new gowns?" said Merope, not bothering to whisper. "Does that include the one you wear now?"

  "Ooh!" chirped Sally, touching her fingertips to her lips. "You are so right. I
t is true that there are four new gowns inside the trunk - not including the one I wear! Which is also new, of course – yes, that makes five altogether!"

  Merope did not want to be so upstaged. "My mother ordered this new blue bonnet for me not long ago," she said, touching the bonnet's long ribbons. "I was very glad to match it to this blue-grey muslin that I decided to wear for traveling."

  Sally's eyes widened, and she grinned with as much smugness as Merope had ever seen on anyone's face. "Do you see the baskets, there, on the seat beside Mr. Brookford? I have five new bonnets, one for each new dress! Three new wraps, two pairs of new kid gloves, seven pearl hairpins, a pair of slippers for dancing, and these new half-boots that I wear now!"

  Merope was so stunned by Sally's frank boasting about her possessions that for a moment she had no response. She was heartened, however, to see that Mr. Brookford seemed equally stunned to hear such bragging.

  "Well, Sally." Merope smoothed her skirts, realizing that Sally had just given her a clear opening. "Your father and mother must be doing very well with their chickens, if they can provide you with such bounty to spend a week at a country home."

  Merope glanced at Mr. Brookford and he gave her a sly little smile.

  It was most likely Hensons had gone into debt – and probably considerable debt – in order to provide Sally with the fine gowns, bonnets, wraps and small luxuries that were now packed away in the many containers inside this barouche… as well as in the trunk that she used now as a footrest, while on her way to a week of enjoyment, pampering, and holiday.

  It was the sort of enjoyment that Sally's family had never been a part of, and certainly would only experience through Sally’s attendance at Albany this week. Sally did not seem at all concerned about her families sacrifice for her.

  Merope's own conscience began to prick at her, instead. Hadn't she herself, quite recently, nagged and wheedled her mother to buy her several new things? Had she not demanded a costly new riding habit, bonnet, and boots when James had invited her to ride out on horseback with him? Didn't the trunk where she rested her own feet also contain a pure silk gown that probably cost more than all her other dresses put together?

  Merope had the growing feeling that she herself was not much better than Sally, in this regard. But she did know that while her mother may have used every extra penny they had to pay for the new clothes and boots, at least the Robbins family had not gone into debt for any of it.

  Sally did stand to gain a great deal if her pretty new dresses, bonnets and dancing slippers helped her to find a well-to-do husband, Merope was still somewhat shocked however at her friend's very casual attitude towards the great sacrifices her family was making. She wondered when Sally's own mother had last got a new pair of boots, let alone a pretty new dress.

  Right then, Merope decided that she would stop at nothing to prevent a selfish girl like Sally Henson end up with a kind gentleman like James Brookford. Even if Merope could not win him for herself, she would not stand by and watch him end up with someone like Sally.

  Merope was aware however, in that way that women often are, that Sally likely had the same intentions towards her. She knew that Sally believed Merope had tried to steal Daniel Bird away from her. As a result, Sally was hardly likely to let Merope walk away with a prize such as Mr. Brookford.

  Merope could easily devise that Sally had set her cap for Mr. Brookford, not only because he was a very fine catch, but because she wanted revenge for what she believed Merope had done to her with Daniel Bird.

  Merope knew that she must not allow Sally to ruin her chances. It was certain that the smug Miss Sally Henson would take every opportunity to say or do whatever she could to provoke Merope into anger, irritation, or a sullen mood in front of Lord and Lady Albany.

  Especially in front of Mr. Brookford, which Sally seemed to be doing right now by pointing out how much better outfitted she was than Merope for a visit at Albany House.

  Merope's eyes flicked toward Mr. Brookford. He was sitting with his head nodded down and his hat pulled down over his face, as though napping while the barouche rolled along in the warm summer day.

  It was going to be a long week.

  Chapter Fifteen

  As they rolled down the lane, tree-lined lane, Merope could see the fields on either side of it. "Are these your famous fields, Mr. Brookford?" she asked.

  "We have the finest fields of grain in the county, Miss Robbins," he said, sitting up and smiling. "Our wheat for flour, as you know, but also beer. Oats for men and horses both. And barley for more beer!"

  "Of course!" said Sally, gazing out at the growing fields. "I do love a little beer myself, Mr. Brookford. Just now and again, of course. I see that you do, too, and I will bet – " She leaned forward, getting as close to him as he could. "I will bet that the best I ever had came from grain grown right here!"

  He grinned back at her. "I don't doubt that you are right, Miss Henson."

  Merope looked past Sally's head, into the distance beyond the fields. "Is that your mill, Mr. Brookford?"

  He turned away from Sally, following Merope's gaze. "It certainly is." He smiled, and she could see that he was quite proud of the place. "Built to the best specifications. Right on the river, so that the very large waterwheel you see, can supply the power to drive it. It is quite efficient, and it has been a great success for us."

  Merope never thought she would be the least bit interested in the interior specifications and workings of a grain mill. It was clear that this one was a very important part of Mr. Brookford's life, as well as life at Albany House. "I look forward to seeing it," she said to him, and she meant it.

  "I'd like to see it, too!" Sally interjected quickly. "It sounds terribly exciting!"

  "I shall be delighted to take both of you to see it," said Mr. Brookford, looking a little bemused. "Perhaps later, after you have seen the house."

  "The house!" Cried Sally, and she sat up as tall as she could to peer ahead over the trotting grey pair.

  Merope looked up, too, and there at the end of the lane – which formed a circle around a small green lawn with an oak tree and a few wooden tables and chairs on it – was Albany House.

  Mr. Brookford's home.

  The barouche followed the circle around the lawn and then stopped in front of a grand Georgian house, which was a pale, creamy white in color with dark green shutters and large front door. It was not so large as the one at Worthington, of course, but perfectly suited for a family living in the country and managing their own fields and mill.

  A footman came out to help them down from the barouche. Sally was eager to be first to step foot onto the property and she propelled herself out after Mr. Brookford had alighted. In her enthusiasm, she missed the lowered step, and was flung into Mr. Brookford. He caught her only through a quickness of mind and strength of body, as Sally Henson had thrown herself with considerable force.

  "Oh, my, Mr. Brookford, I am so glad I had you here to catch me!" she cried, breathless from the effort and shaking her skirts into place. "I will be so glad to get inside the house. Shall we go?"

  She started to take his arm and move toward the front steps, and then seemed surprised when he did not go with her. "Why – Miss Henson – we must wait for Miss Robbins, too," he said.

  Sally glanced back with a look of bafflement, as though she had not expected to see anyone still sitting in the barouche. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Well, of course. Come now, Merope, I had forgotten about you! I'm sure everyone in the house is waiting for us!"

  Merope smiled tensely as she stood waiting in the door of the barouche.

  Very politely, Mr. Brookford offered his hand and helped her step down to the ground. Merope made every effort to do so in a complete contrast to what Sally had done, keeping a cool air about her through each step. She was rewarded by a gentle smile from Mr. Brookford and a brief, fierce glare from Sally – which, of course, turned into a giddy smile again the instant Mr. Brookford turned in her direction.


  "Shall we go in?" he asked, and the three of them walked up the five steps to the front door of Albany House.

  The deep green doors opened wide for them. Merope and Sally both walked in on either side of Mr. Brookford as the butler bowed in greeting.

  "Good day, Henry," said Mr. Brookford. "Please see that everything in the barouche is brought up to the young ladies' room."

  "Of course, sir. I will tell Lord and Lady Albany that you are here," the butler said before he walked away.

  Merope and Sally were left alone with Mr. Brookford in the expansive entryway. "Well, this is home," he said to them, looking around at it and smiling.

  "So it is," Merope whispered.

  "If you will walk with me, I'll show you a little of it now." Mr. Brookford started off down the hall, and of course, the two women followed him.