by Sally Orr
During their long journey to the fair, Berdy provided detailed commentary upon every feature flying past the carriage. Then, after a couple of hours, they reached an open field south of Macclesfield that had been transformed into a local fair. A brief shower had ended, and even though they arrived in the late afternoon, the sun still shone. Bright multicolored banners whipped in the breeze above the townsfolk strolling along rows lined with vendors. Shouts describing customer testimonials mingled with loud promises of satisfaction. Up ahead, a platform had been erected for the day’s speeches, and later for the display of the evening’s fireworks.
The landau jostled with other carriages, gigs, and carts for the best viewing position. Eventually, the carriages from Blackwell joined a broad semicircle of carriages just off the main road. Because of their late arrival, their carriage joined a line of vehicles at the back. The coachman, George, folded the top of the landau for an unimpeded view of the festivities. He then left to join a small group of servants heading toward the fireworks platform. A Catherine wheel had been promised for the evening’s illuminations, and no one wanted to miss that glorious spectacle.
Behind the sea of carriages in front of her, Elinor stood to observe the crowd. The local men, women, and children were all in boisterous high spirits. Most of the newly arrived quickly exited their carriages to join the infectious celebrations.
After waving to some of her friends standing next to a nearby curricle, she caught Mr. Thornbury offering Berdy spirits from a silver flask. The two men turned their backs to her and drank liberally. Berdy hiccuped, causing Mr. Thornbury to slap him across the back. When they turned to face her, both men wore a what-did-we-do smile.
Mr. Thornbury had clearly become a great hero of Berdy’s, but their conversation, at least in her presence, kept to frivolous topics, like cravats, and didn’t include any serious subjects, like professions. She was not quite sure what to make of their friendship. Berdy should choose his own future; she knew that theoretically. She could even give justice to Mr. Thornbury’s drunken accusation about leading strings. Except the thought of Berdy making his own life’s decisions caused a knot of fear in her stomach. Glancing at the two men sharing a jest, she hoped Berdy might associate with more suitable companions in London, gentlemen his own age with serious pursuits. She exhaled a long sigh.
Mr. Thornbury winked at her. “Happy?”
Soon. She must introduce Berdy to other young gentlemen soon. “Tolerably so.”
Mr. Thornbury addressed Berdy. “You should leave to examine the goods. Don’t want to miss any new silks.” He moved to open the carriage door for Berdy to exit.
Berdy failed to budge. “Saw a few silks from the carriage when we arrived, but I must admit disappointment. Once this fair was full of fashionable goods. Now it’s all wax dolls and gingerbread nuts.”
“Mr. Thornbury,” she said, “perhaps this is a good time to tell Berdy about your businesses. For example, the number of opportunities suitable for a gentleman’s son in engineering, architecture, or the construction of canals. We’ll be in London this spring, and I hope Berdy will investigate these professions as potential livings.”
“Of course, Mrs. Colton. What would you like to discuss?”
She patted Berdy’s knee to get his attention. “I know in order to build a canal you need to obtain an Act of Parliament. Can you explain the process to us?”
Before he could reply, the sight of Dr. Potts’s daughter running up to their carriage distracted everyone. Miss Potts valiantly held on to her bonnet in the stiff wind, and Elinor thought she resembled a young sitter in a Reynolds portrait, all pink cheeks and breezy youth. Miss Potts recognized Berdy first and waved. When she reached the carriage, Berdy made the formal introductions.
Upon hearing Mr. Thornbury’s name, Miss Potts widened her eyes. “You are Mr. Thornbury?” she asked in a tone of hoydenish admiration Elinor guessed was unintentional.
“Pleasure, Miss Potts,” Mr. Thornbury said with effortless gallantry.
Miss Potts openly stared at him. “It is a great honor to meet you at last. Um, our carriage is right over there.” She pointed behind her shoulder without turning. “Father asked how your foot got on, Mr. Deane. He’ll join us in a moment, after he pays his respects to the widow Selby.”
Elinor peeked at the two men, both smiling at the lovely girl outside the carriage. Berdy appeared overly slender in comparison to the solid frame of Mr. Thornbury. His figure seemed to fill the old landau. Now it seemed inconceivable that once she had considered him “almost handsome.” He was so handsome it was difficult for any woman to look away. The memory of his soft lips pressing against hers in the hallway returned. And, of course, she started to blush—couldn’t stop it.
Mr. Thornbury glanced at Elinor with a bemused expression upon his face. “Ah, I see by your cheeks you are reading my handbook again. Starting on chapter four, or is it five?”
“Oh.” She stifled a giggle. Curse his boots. Her blush expanded.
He winked.
Miss Potts glanced over her shoulder, then leaned closer to Elinor. “I overheard Father mention his handbook too. Have you read it, Mrs. Colton?” She giggled. “Is it terribly naughty?”
“I’ve read it, and it’s not a book for proper girls,” Berdy admonished, fidgeting in his seat.
Mr. Thornbury raised his eyebrows.
“Berdy!” Elinor said. “That’s a shocking fib. You have not read it. I doubt anyone has, for that matter.” She glanced at Mr. Thornbury. “Nobody should read it.”
Berdy reddened. “Well, no I haven’t, but Dr. Potts warned me about it. He said he read it, so I’m as good as an expert.” He leaned close to Miss Potts. “Now since you asked about my limb, I’m pleased to tell you that m’ foot—”
“As the lady of the house,” Miss Potts said to Mr. Thornbury, all but ignoring Berdy, “I would like to extend an invitation to dine this week. I am sure Father would be delighted with your company. Perhaps Tuesday?” A smiling Miss Potts coiled a ringlet around her forefinger.
Elinor blinked, repeatedly. Miss Potts was just sixteen, and here she was batting her long eyelashes at the man and inviting him to dinner, flirting with a gentleman at least fifteen years older than she was. And a dangerous gentleman to flirt with, too. Mr. Thornbury looked particularly handsome today in a dark blue superfine coat and nankeen-colored trousers. He gave Miss Potts one of his lanky grins that involved only one side of his mouth, then leaned back in the seat and crossed his long legs. Elinor noticed his shiny black boots rested a mere inch away from her kid shoes. While formulating a request to move his boots, she found her wanton gaze traveling up his body, but this upward movement stopped and lingered upon the watch fob nestled deep within the folds of his butter-colored trousers. She jerked her glance to the side, irritated by her physical attraction to his person, and for not being able to control her blushes in his presence.
Neither hers, nor Miss Potts’s, reactions to Mr. Thornbury surprised her. Her brief acquaintance with him had schooled her in the behavior of rakes. They project their considerable masculine allure upon all females and earn the title “Rake” because—unlike other men—their charms enjoyed a great deal of success. Berdy’s father was reputed to be a rake, and unlike her sister, she had resisted his masculine allures. So if she tried very hard, she should be able to resist this one rake, despite her recent failures. She peeked at him again. Heavens. She hoped this knowledge would protect her against Mr. Thornbury’s rakish charm.
Dr. Potts approached their party and had evidently heard his daughter’s well-pressed invitation to dine. He greeted everyone, then said, “The invitation is, of course, meant for you, dear lady, but Mr. Thornbury may attend.”
Before Mr. Thornbury could respond to the Potts’s invitation, Berdy struggled to stand and offered to accompany Miss Potts to the fair. “Can a fellow offer you some gingerbread nuts?”
Next Lord Parker and Mr. Drexel strode up to the side of the carriage. “Two,” Lord Parker said, “up for some country ale served by a fetching wench?” He glanced toward Elinor. “Pardon, ma’am. I—”
“Mrs. Colton,” Dr. Potts interrupted, “may I escort you to the booths? From there we can keep an eye on the children.” He held his hand up to block the light from the low sun, or to shield Mr. Thornbury from his view.
“Thank you, but I prefer to stay awhile. There is a matter of business regarding Berdy’s future that Mr. Thornbury promised to discuss with me.”
“Right then,” Lord Parker said. “Two, we’ll see you in a tick.” He and Mr. Drexel ambled off toward the fair’s booths.
Dr. Potts waved a hand in dismissal. “Ah, surely I can give you similar advice? As I have done these many years.”
“I am grateful for your advice, sir,” she said. “And for your advice to Berdy last week about the professions available in medicine for a gentleman. However, in this case, I seek information about the technical opportunities available in commerce and engineering. Mr. Thornbury has some recent expertise in this subject.”
“Not trade.” Dr. Potts scowled, his perfect posture straightening even more. “Deane would do well to enter the church, stand before the bar, or join the navy. Indeed, many young gentlemen find fame and fortune in London.”
She grinned wistfully at the thought of Berdy strolling the deck of one of His Majesty’s ships of the line. “I don’t believe he must enter a profession suitable for the son of a peer. He is a gentleman’s son, and I have witnessed many good livings made by gentlemen in industry, especially around the Midlands. And industry may be the future for our impoverished young gentlemen. There is no harm in inquiry, is there?”
“Very well. I’ll take my leave then.” Dr. Potts bowed. “Mrs. Colton, Mr. Thornbury.” He headed off in the direction Berdy and Miss Potts had taken.
“I thought they’d never leave,” Mr. Thornbury said, moving his boot so it touched her slipper.
That’s when she made a tactical mistake. In an effort to stop his boot from touching hers, she innocently suggested a change. “You’ll find more room for your feet if you move to this side of the carriage. The seat is long and has plenty of room.”
For an instant his eyes darkened. “At your command,” he drawled, making a lightning-fast jump from one seat to the other, causing the carriage to bounce.
The landau was substantial, with plenty of room for four people. He could easily have sat with space between them, as she expected, but he sat next to her. His thigh shoved up against her leg, and she flinched at the touch of hard muscles acquired by hours spent on horseback.
“A noticeable change from our meeting at the lake, when you requested I sit five feet away,” he crowed, like a cock entering a new coop and finding only hens.
She tried to sound calm. “Can we return to the subject of Berdy?”
“Very well. His talents? Besides cravat knots.” He took another drink from the flask.
She quickly countered. “He’s interested in all forms of machines. That dandy horse, for example. Moreover, he can spend hours looking at steam engines.” She caught his grin. “Not just silks.”
“His political abilities? Could Deane persuade an angry group of landowners to accept a canal or turnpike across their property?”
She considered his question for a moment. “I don’t know the answer, but I do know Berdy has consistently surprised me. I believe he is capable of anything he sets his mind to.”
“Fair enough. I will consider your request. In return, I ask you to reconsider the lease we discussed.”
She jerked at the transient touch of his shoulder and wiggled to put distance between them. “Mr. Thornbury, please. I must admit that I have reconsidered my objections, but I still have concerns about the smoke and soot.”
“Yes, but now I only request you join me in touring a foundry southeast of Manchester. I believe it is important for you to see the reduction in smoke produced from a taller chimney fitted with a new smoke catcher. A lesson I admittedly learned from my own chimneys. You see, I recently increased the height of my drawing room’s chimney. The taller flue has greater draft, so the room no longer becomes filled by a smoky haze.”
The snake of guilt coiled around her heart. Hope sounded in his voice, and she didn’t want to disappoint him after his assistance to Berdy. Besides, here was her chance to get his opinion on a few issues in regard to the foundry. For example, the number of families with children that would be employed. However, she first needed to make her objections clear. He should harbor no expectations of her approval before their journey. “Please don’t mistake me, I am grateful—”
“Gratitude, an underappreciated quality.” He twisted to face her, and whatever mood had touched him earlier, the rogue was now firmly in place.
She recognized mischief’s fire in his eyes, no doubt fueled by the spirits in the silver flask. “I know the power of your charm around women. I know you are aware of it too. So I’m not going to let you kiss me, if that is what you want.”
“Ha! You won’t let me kiss you…don’t you enjoy kisses of gratitude?”
“Yes. No. Listen. Gentlemen have used masculine wiles on me before to get what they want. I’m not a green girl. Keep your gratitude kisses to yourself.”
“I have no intention of kissing myself.” He gave a deep, resonant chuckle. “No kisses then. My masculine wiles must be rather rusty. Don’t you agree?” He took another drink from the silver flask.
“No, of course not—I mean—yes—heavens.” She scooted to the opposite seat, gentle panic heating her cheeks and fully aware that more outrageous innuendo would likely follow.
“So I’m not rusty?”
“No.”
“No,” he mimicked triumphantly, jumping to join her on the other seat.
She shuffled close to the carriage’s door. “Please, let’s not repeat a conversation where every answer is no.”
“Agreed. We’ll try yeses this time.” His arm slid along the top of the seat behind her back. “Much more positive. Ready for chapter…let’s see, chapter four, yes?”
She began to chuckle softly. “Mr. Thornbury, enough of this game. Whatever the rules are, I’m sure you’ve won. Stop teasing me with your imaginary chapters.”
“Ah, but since you have not yet agreed to visit a new mine, we have nothing else to talk about except The Rake’s Handbook. I’m sure you’re eager to know what is in chapter ten.”
“I already know. The End.” By now she had scooted as far as possible, and her arm was wedged against the side of the carriage.
“Not The End. I wrote the book, remember. Chapter ten is not The End, it is only the end of volume one.”
“Volume one. I really—”
“Since you’re one of those naughty, impatient readers who skips chapters, I’ll submit to your weakness and read chapter ten.”
She shoved his shoulder as hard as she could. After briefly leaning sideways with her push, he righted, his mischievous grin appearing again. She laughed heartily—couldn’t help it. Never had she met a man like him; his charm proved unstoppable. “Suddenly I have great admiration for your mother.” She turned in the direction of the festivities and tried to calm herself.
It was one of those things women knew without looking. He was behind her and examining her—closely. She jumped at the touch of his light fingertip on her shoulder. “Yes?” she asked without turning to face him.
No reply. The touch of his finger returned and traced up her back, leaving a prickling trail of its presence. She heard a soft rushing sound and realized he was blowing
on her hair. Then the finger returned to join his other fingers as he cupped his big palm around her neck. Without thought, she leaned into his warm hand before she turned around to discover his face within inches of hers. “P-please move back. I don’t want anyone who passes this carriage to get the wrong impression.”
“We are off to the side, quite alone, and isolated from sight due to the high sides of this carriage. But you’re right,” he said with a soft laugh, “a wrong impression would compromise my gentlemanly reputation.”
“Your repu—”
“You will come with me to the new chimney. Yes?”
Heavens. “You will help Berdy. Share your business interests. Yes?”
“Yes.” He framed her face with his hands and kissed her soundly. The kiss was long enough to taste the brandy and feel the unexpected softness of his lips. He pulled his head back; his expression revealed surprise, similar to what she was feeling.
She tried to speak again, but stopped when she caught sight of his lips. She never should have looked at his mouth. Her mind blanked. He drew a deep breath, and she instinctively gulped air before they rushed forward into a spontaneous kiss. She should gather her wits now and refuse him. Ask him to stop. Push him away. Say something.
“Allow me to thank you,” he whispered, his lips resting on hers while his thumb traced lazy circles under her ear.
Perhaps she moaned—someone moaned. He twisted her around to face the carriage’s side, and she felt the heated touch of his beguiling lips on the back of her neck. Caught by his warm hands and seduced by his wandering kisses under her ears, she fought to gain control of conscious speech. His lingering kisses brought back exquisite responses within her she had either forgotten or buried. She also caught his smell, one she easily recognized, the heavy scent of a man before sleep, sharing brandy-laced whispers under a blanket.