by Ella Quinn
“Yes, of course. There will not be anyone.” If there were no more suitable gentlemen, her difficulty with her mother would soon end. Mama could not expect her to wed if there was no one eligible left. “Mama wants me to help her with her party today, and there are some things I must complete before I go.”
“At least the weather is cooperating. Have a good time. Grace and I will come by for a while.” His forehead creased for a moment. “You do know that she only wants what is best for you?”
“What she thinks is best for me,” Augusta countered. “Yes, I know.”
She went to her brother and bussed his cheek. “You are the kindest of brothers.”
“I do my poor best. Go have fun.”
* * *
Phinn nervously paced his bedchamber. Today was the day he would ask Augusta to marry him. That they were on a first-name basis, where no one could overhear them, should have been reassuring but wasn’t. They had not had what could even remotely be considered a romantic moment. They had grown closer. And friendship was an excellent basis for a marriage. To use his brother’s term, he lusted after her. Creating the heir so desperately needed would be no hardship. In fact, the more he thought of her, the more he wanted to sink into her warmth, kiss her until her lips were swollen and her eyes glazed with passion.
He could not imagine life with Augusta would be at all dull. Perhaps someday, after they had children, and the children were old enough, they could travel to Europe. He still wanted to study the medieval churches and other architecture.
Unlike the other gentlemen who’d proposed to her, Phinn would encourage her to continue her correspondence with professors and knowledgeable people. He was sure no other gentleman could or would promise her that.
He shrugged off the guilt dogging him that he was not speaking to her brother first. That was how one properly made an offer to a lady. Yet from what he’d heard, that hadn’t done any of the gentlemen who had already asked her much good. None of them had got past Worthington.
Phinn had been present for many of the wagers at his club concerning who Augusta would marry, and the drunken ramblings that ensued when the gentlemen had been turned down. He knew approximately how many men had asked for her hand and had received an immediate rejection from her brother.
He’d gently probed a few of the gentlemen concerning their delusions about her, when they were in their cups, but they were largely unintelligible.
Finally, one night, Seaton-Smythe said, “She listens to a man. Never interrupts. Makes him feel special.”
Listens? Well, yes, she had to in order to make her erudite comments and clever counterpoints. Yet he would be astonished if any of these gentlemen had that type of conversation with her.
“Makes one feel as if he is the only one who has her attention,” Lord Gray, the most recent gentleman to be rejected, had mumbled into his brandy.
“Not even my mistress listens as well as Lady Augusta.” The Earl of Tillerton poured himself another glass of wine. “Makes all the appropriate responses, doesn’t interrupt one.” He took a drink. “Seaton-Smythe’s right. Makes a gentleman feel special.”
Bloody idiots.
Apparently, only Phinn knew exactly what Augusta had been doing. Ignoring the sapskulls. She was more than clever enough to listen with a small part of her brain while she was doing something else with the other part. Translating ancient Hebrew or something more esoteric.
For a brief second, he thought about disabusing them of their notions about Augusta, but it wouldn’t do any good, and it might harm her reputation if the gentlemen knew she had not been paying attention to them at all. The ton could be vicious with those who didn’t fit the mold in which a person was put. And she had done her best to appear to be exactly what she was not, a demure young lady. Not for the first time Phinn knew he had been right when he’d told his sister-in-law Augusta would terrify these men if they actually knew her.
What he did not comprehend was her brother’s swift rejection of all the gentlemen who had proposed. From all accounts, Worthington had not even taken the time to ask her if she would accept the offers. It was almost as if he did not want her to wed. Yet from what Helen had relayed to him about Lady Wolverton’s wishes, that didn’t make sense. She was determined to see Augusta married. Did Augusta know her brother had rejected so many proposals? That was a ridiculous question. Of course she did. Still, a question Phinn could not quite formulate hovered just out of reach.
Confound it all. Propriety and Worthington be hanged. If Augusta rejected Phinn, he was going to have a reason, and it wouldn’t be that she had no attraction to him.
Turning his mind to the task at hand, he took out the piece of paper Helen had given him. She’d visited Lady Wolverton several times and had drawn him a detailed plan of the garden. The area was not wide, but it was long. There were several private paths and a secluded rose bower along the stone wall at the end of one of the paths. He tapped the alcove. That is where he would propose. They would be sufficiently far from the rest of the guests to have a private conversation.
He sent a prayer to whatever deity chose to listen to him that Augusta would accept his offer. Otherwise, he didn’t know what he was going to do. There was no other he could imagine waking up to in the morning.
A knock sounded on the door. “Phineas,” Helen said. “It is time to depart.”
He took one last look in the mirror. It was now or never. “I’m ready.”
The moment Phinn arrived at Lady Wolverton’s garden party his gaze was immediately drawn to Augusta. How he had found her in the throng of guests, he didn’t know. It was as though he was always aware of her and had been for a few weeks.
True to his sister-in-law’s drawing, the garden had been designed in a series of beds, paths, and fountains. Roses, underplanted with lavender and edged with boxwood, scented the air. A marble fountain of a woman pouring water from a jug, which had probably originated in Italy, gurgled softly, barely discernible under the voices of those present. Three paths led from the fountain deeper into the garden.
He made his way toward her through the swarm of people, greeting those he knew as he went. Occasionally, one of the matchmaking mamas tried to inveigle him into conversation with their daughters. It was an ill-kept secret that he might be responsible for the next heir. Fortunately, he had become an expert at discussing the weather for a few moments and moving on.
As usual, Augusta was surrounded by her circle of friends. “Ladies.” He bowed. “How delightful to see you.”
Shortly after they had greeted him, several other gentlemen joined their set, and one by one, they took the ladies off to stroll around the garden until only Phinn and Augusta were left.
Glancing around, he made sure no one was in hearing distance. “Augusta, would you like to walk with me?” After they were betrothed he wouldn’t mind seeing more of the garden. But right now he had to make his offer before he lost his chance. They wouldn’t be left alone for long. “It is lovely here.”
“It is.” She placed her fingers on his arm and grinned. “My sister-in-law’s great-grandmother planted it. Then her grandmother, mother, and Grace contributed.”
As it usually did, Augusta and Phinn’s conversation deepened as they discussed the plantings, their origins, and the design. More than one gentleman caught his eye as dubious brows were raised. Lord Gray snickered behind his hand.
Finally, Phinn and Augusta were on the path to the rose arbor. Plants thick with leaves and blooms muffled the voices. When they arrived, he maneuvered himself so that he was facing her, and dropped to one knee. “Augusta.”
“Oh, good Lord!” Shock and something between disappointment and horror appeared on her face. Tears pooled in her eyes. This was not at all the reaction he’d expected. “Not you too!”
She turned on her heel and started back up the path toward the house, then stopped and headed down a side path.
What the devil! For a moment her outburst had him rooted in place. Of a
ll the things she could have said . . . What the hell had gone wrong? Perhaps the better question was why she had reacted so strongly. Had someone hurt her? If any man had laid a hand on her, Phinn would find the blackguard and kill him. On second thought, Worthington would have already seen to the cur’s death.
He hastened his steps. “Augusta, wait!” Her shoulders hunched around her ears as if to ward his words away. “Couldn’t you have at least let me finish what I had to say?”
She whirled around, almost bumping into him, her face a mask of fury. “Oh, was I wrong? Were you not going to ask me to wed you?”
“I was. I am asking you to marry me.” He raked his fingers through his hair, knocking his hat off. “I know you rejected the other fellows, but we are friends. Good friends.”
“Yes, we are. And I trusted you.” Her eyes again filled with tears she blinked back. “That is exactly the reason you should not be proposing to me.”
He reached out, wanting to comfort her, but she whipped her hands behind her back. She was acting as if he’d betrayed her. God help him, he felt like the worst bounder in England. Yet, he couldn’t give up. Not now. “Being friends is an excellent reason to wed.”
“Phinn, even if you loved me”—her voice hitched on a sob—“which you do not, I shall not marry this Season. I have been accepted to the University of Padua.”
“University?” All the air in his body rushed out, as if he’d been punched by Jackson himself, leaving Phinn dizzy and making it hard to speak. “In Padua,” he croaked, barely able to get the words out. “Italy?”
Her chin firmed, and she nodded.
Suddenly the difference in the way her family was behaving made sense. There was a schism. Worthington supported Augusta’s wish, while Lady Wolverton was doing her best to thwart Augusta’s dream by getting her married. To Phinn.
Naturally, she wouldn’t have told anyone outside her immediate family about wanting to attend university. Well, perhaps her particular female friends. They seemed to look out for one another. He wished she would have told him and was a little hurt that she hadn’t. Yet, despite how close they’d become, the fact he was a man might be the reason. Very few people in the ton would understand or approve of her goals.
Her hopes of attending the university were not at all unfounded. Padua had admitted a lady. Granted it had been almost two hundred years ago, but it had happened, and with the proper pressure the university could do so again, and apparently had.
Hell and damnation! Now what was he to do? How was he to convince her to marry him? There was no way he could compete with studying in Italy. Not for a female of her intellect. For that matter, Phinn wouldn’t stay for him either.
Chapter Twelve
“Yes, Italy,” Augusta said. Why could Phinn have not approached her brother like the rest of them had? Yet, even if any of the others had asked her directly, rejecting him was still so much harder than with any other gentleman.
She liked him a great deal. Under different circumstances, she might even fall in love with him. . . .
Thinking about all of this was useless. She was going to Padua to study. Once she finished, then she’d marry and not before. If any gentleman could understand her need to attend university, Phinn should. Given time.
He opened his mouth as if to speak. Although it could have been his jaw dropping.
Nevertheless, what she had to say must be said before this went any further. She tried to soften her tone. “I am not stupid. I know that you need a wife to produce an heir. You have four nieces, and the only possible reason Lady Dorchester could have for introducing you to eligible ladies is that she wants you to marry. And the only reason for that is because she has not had a son. Am I wrong?”
“You are the least stupid person of my acquaintance. And you are correct.” Phinn gave her a rueful look before raking his fingers through his hair again. Mussing it enough that she wanted to smooth the parts that were standing up. “If you marry me, we could still travel. I want to study the architecture on the Continent.”
That might be what he thought they could do, but it was unlikely. “I know what happens when a lady marries.” He looked so hopeful she could barely meet his gaze. “She has babies. Grace has even had two, and she has only been married for three years. And as much as I love my nieces and nephews, having a child would prevent me from doing what I need to do.” Phinn stood so still his feet might have grown into the earth, like the plantings around them. “I am sorry. You will have to find another lady to give your family its heir.”
As she brushed past him he still did not move. At least he understood. Or she hoped he did. She wandered through the garden in no hurry to return to her mother’s party. She was sure Mama and Lady Dorchester knew he meant to propose. It might be cowardly, but Augusta did not wish to see either of them when they found out she had rejected him. Perhaps the best course of action was to slip around to the side door and avoid the guests.
A strong hand gripped her arm. Well, she should not have expected Phinn to remain where he was forever. He turned her to face him. She had never seen him look so serious. “You said you know I don’t love you. How do you know?”
They were so close she had to lean her head back to meet his gaze. His eyes reminded her of clouds before a storm. She took a breath. How she’d miss his company. Yet, even very intelligent men could be so stupid about some things. “You do not act as if you love me.” He opened his lips, and she rushed on. “And no, I am not going to tell you what gentlemen in love do because I do not want you to just start behaving as though you love me.” From what she’d heard, that had happened to Elizabeth Harrington. It would not happen to Augusta.
Phinn stepped closer and the warmth of his body called to her. Even if he loved her, nothing could change. She had to go. Seeing the hurt in his face made her heart ache. Augusta made a point of glaring at his fingers. “I am leaving.”
He dropped his hand as if it had been burned. “Very well. I suppose I shall see you again before you depart.”
“I do not think it can be avoided.” She still had the rest of the Season to get through. This, then, was the end of their friendship. Despite what he said, Phinn would never want to talk to her again. Only one of the other gentlemen who had proposed wished to even dance with her. Augusta shoved down the grief welling up inside her. She could not think about that now. She’d said what she had to. That was the end of it.
Taking the path along one side of the garden, she hurried past the kitchen door, down the sidewalk and into the square. She met Grace crossing the square from Worthington House to Stanwood House.
Grace’s brows snapped together. “Sweetheart, what is the matter? You look as if you have lost your best friend.”
In a way Augusta had. She blinked hard several times to keep the tears at bay. Why did she all of a sudden want to cry? She’d never been a watering pot, or dramatic. This was exhausting. “I thought you were at Mama’s party.”
“I went back to look in on Elizabeth. She was fussy earlier.” Grace took Augusta’s arm. “Come with me. Whatever it is, a nice cup of tea and some conversation will help.”
She would have to confess everything to Grace. Yet better to her than to anyone else.
A few minutes later they were seated in her study, the tea tray on the table between them. Since they had moved into Worthington House two years ago, this was the room in which all the family discussions took place. Before, it had been Grace’s study in Stanwood House.
She handed Augusta a cup. “Now then, what has happened to upset you?”
Rubbing a finger along the rim of the fine bone china, she said, “Phinn, Lord Phineas, proposed, and I told him I would not marry him because I am going to Italy to university. I know Mama said I could not, and she is making it difficult for Matt. Still, there must be some way for me to attend. I received a letter the other day from Baron von Neumann. He knows of a family who he is sure will sponsor me in Padua.” Augusta raised her head to look at her sister-i
n-law. “That was Mama’s stipulation, and I have met it.”
“You like Lord Phineas a great deal,” Grace said. Did she really want Augusta to marry as well?
“Yes, but I want to attend university before I marry. Aside from that”—his admitting he didn’t love her, or not telling her she was wrong, which was just as good as an admission, hurt more than she had realized—“he does not love me.”
“You are certain?”
“Yes. He said as much.”
“I see.” Grace sipped her tea for a few moments. Her forehead creased as it did when she was thinking. Finally she set the cup down. “Jane and Hector are going to tour Europe. She asked if you wish to go with them. However, I have not mentioned it because your mother has been so against you attending university, and I thought her objections might extend to traveling to the Continent in general.” This was the perfect solution to everything. Augusta wanted to jump up and hug her sister-in-law. “I think now might be a good time to tell your mother about the invitation. If you want to accompany them, there is no saying that they might be able to arrange to be in Padua before the term begins, and deliver you to your sponsors.”
“Yes. Yes, of course I wish to go. I cannot believe you are so devious!” Augusta rushed around the table and threw herself into Grace’s arms.
“Ah, well.” Grace hugged Augusta. “One cannot raise this many children without being a little conniving.”
Not to mention the fierce fight Grace had had in gaining guardianship of her brothers and sisters before marrying Matt. “When do I leave?”
“In about a week. Hector has already made all the arrangements. All you need to do is pack and order some sturdier shoes. You will require trunks. Matt will arrange your passport. We shall see if Madame Lisette can make you another carriage gown or two. You’ll stay with the Harringtons in Paris for a few weeks. If you need additional traveling garments, they can be obtained there.”