by Alice Gaines
“Not intentionally. She’s a very sweet girl,” Bess answered.
“And very clever,” Anna added.
“She has an inquisitive nature.” Bess picked up her tea and took a sip. It had gone cold. Nothing tasted right today, not since she’d awakened and remembered that she had to tell Rose how stupid she’d been, and that the three of them would have to decide how to deal with the consequences of her stupidity.
“I suppose there’s nothing to worry about, then,” Rose said. “Why don’t we let her try to write with us? She might be good at it.”
“Or she might become discouraged when she discovers how much work it is,” Anna added.
“Why don’t we give her a scene to write? If she can’t do it, we could tell her gently that she wasn’t a good fit.” Rose said.
“It’s a bit of a risk,” Anna said. “If we anger her, she might tell our secret.”
“She can do that already,” Bess said. She got up and paced to the dining room window. She stared outside in the general direction of Hollyfield, as if she might spot a certain man with green eyes and dimples.
“She didn’t strike me as the vengeful sort,” Anna said behind her.
“That’s true.” Bess turned. “There’s another problem, though.”
She’d given the possibility of allowing Miss Northcross into their circle of writers some thought during the night. She’d seemed so eager, they’d have to give her a decision one way or another.
“I’m not sure an innocent understands . . . well . . . men enough to capture Foul Walter’s character,” Bess said.
“I don’t see why not.” Rose stared very pointedly at Anna.
“I don’t know why you look at me when you say things like that,” Anna said. “I never told you I was innocent.”
“But, surely,” Rose said. “You’ve never been married.”
“You don’t have to have a husband to engage in the marital act,” Anna said. “I‘ve had more experience than you’d suspect.”
“Well, now.” Bess returned to the table and took the seat next to Anna. “There’s a story I’d like to hear.”
“There’s nothing to it, really,” Anna said. Her smile said something else entirely.
Rose settled on Anna’s other side and placed her hand on Anna’s arm. “What are you keeping from us?”
“When I realized I’d never have a husband, I decided I’d sample the joys of the flesh.” Anna pushed her breakfast plate away and rested her palms on the table. “I went about it logically and methodically.”
Rose gave out a laugh that resembled an undignified hoot. “Logically? One doesn’t do that sort of thing logically.”
“I did. I chose someone handsome and discreet and completely unimportant to me,” Anna replied.
“And what did you do? Go to his house one day and tell him, ‘Here I am. Ravish me?’” Rose asked.
“Of course not,” Anna said. “It was quite a bit more complicated than that.”
“It usually is,” Bess said. “Who was he?”
“My father’s solicitor. A young man who came to our house on business,” Anna said.
Rose got so close to Anna she’d be in Anna’s lap if she moved another inch in her direction. “He was handsome?”
“And discreet. My father would have torn him apart if he had learned what we were doing,” Anna said.
“And you didn’t care about him at all?” Bess asked.
“I didn’t want to give him the power to break my heart.”
Rose clucked her tongue. “But that’s terrible.”
“I don’t see why,” Anna said.
“Good heavens.” Rose looked past Anna toward Bess. “You tell her why.”
“I?”
“Well, yes. You’ve been married.”
“I don’t see how that makes me an expert on the subject of whom one should have sexual relations with,” Bess said.
“Surely you loved Lord Rushford,” Rose said.
Back to that. She’d spent countless hours sorting out her feelings for Bert after his death. She still dwelled on it from time to time. She hadn’t arrived at any solid answers. “Of course I loved him. I lived with him for years. We got on famously.”
“Got on?” Rose repeated. “Famously?”
“What do you think we should have done?” Bess said.
Rose pressed her hand to her breast. “Love should grab you by the throat. It should hurl you off a cliff. It should drown you.”
“I must say, that sounds delightful,” Anna said.
“Do you mean to say neither of you have felt like that about anyone?” Rose demanded.
“I’m sorry to disappoint,” Bess said.
“At least the marital act must have moved you,” Rose said.
“It was nice,” Anna answered.
“Nice?” Rose’s voice rose in pitch and volume. She’d be shouting soon, and she never did that.
“It was very, very nice,” Anna answered.
“What about you, Bess?” Rose demanded.
“‘Nice’ appears to be taken, so I’ll say ‘good.’”
“Oh.” Rose made a disgusted huff and rose from her chair. For a moment, she stared at them like a schoolmaster readying himself to punish a pair of exceedingly naughty children. “This won’t stand. Not at all.”
Bess glanced at Anna, who appeared just as perplexed by their friend’s umbrage as she was.
“I don’t know what you want us do to about it,” Bess said.
“It’s simple. You’ll have an affair with Captain Northcross, and Anna will indulge with Lieutenant Weston.”
“Weston?” Anna’s voice rose to match Rose’s. “The man’s an arrogant fool.”
“He’s no fool,” Bess said.
“He’s arrogant to the point of foolishness.” Anna humphed. “You heard his opinions on women.”
She had. She’d also witnessed the battle of wits the lieutenant and Anna had fought at the table. It had made the conversation quite spirited, if a bit unconventional. Sparks had definitely flown between the two of them. Rose might be on to something there. She and Captain Northcross were an entirely different manner.
“Better yet, you’ll both marry them,” Rose declared.
Bess and Anna sputtered in unison.
“You’ve lost your mind,” Anna said.
“Oh, child,” Bess added. “What would make you think such a thing?”
Rose had always been so agreeable, so quick to defer. The conversation with Captain Northcross had certainly changed her—for the better, no doubt, if a bit inconveniently for her two friends. It also seemed to have sparked a romantic streak in her. Imagine. She honestly thought Bess would take another husband at her age.
“I wouldn’t suit Captain Northcross at all,” Bess said. “He’s looking for a proper wife.”
“Perhaps, but that’s not what he’s looking at,” Rose countered.
That got an unladylike snort from Anna. “Even our sweet Rose noticed.”
“I don’t know what you two are talking about.”
“Your breasts,” Rose said. “He couldn’t take his eyes off them.”
Anna laughed out loud. “When you bent over the music, he turned almost purple.”
“You were playing. You couldn’t have seen anything like that.”
Anna gave Bess a knowing glance. Bess could hardly deny the truth to the two of them. She’d noticed his attention to her bosom well enough. It had created a pleasant fluttering in her heart and made her flesh feel swollen and heavy. It still did when she thought of it.
“I shouldn’t have let you two dress me like that,” she said. “The distraction caused me to leave our writing lying about.”
“Which brings us back to the question of Miss Northcross,” Anna said. “What to do about her.”
“Invite her to join us,” Rose said. “That way, her brother will have to make visits here.”
Bess groaned. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I think you’ve hit on something,” Anna said.
“You’re a fine one to plan.” Bess glared at Anna. “You’re the one who ought to be getting married, not me.”
“Let her come, Bess. If it’s her dream to write, you wouldn’t keep her from it,” Anna said.
“Couldn’t you be wrong, just this once?” Bess said.
Anna laughed again, this time sweetly. “We’ll tell her brothers I’m giving her piano lessons, and then we’ll introduce her to Foul Walter.”
“Fine. You ride over there and tell them. I’ve seen enough of Captain Northcross for this week.”
“Or, he’s seen enough of you,” Rose said. This time, both she and Anna broke out in laughter.
Chapter Eight
The next visitor from Hollyfield wasn’t Captain Northcross. Bess could hardly credit her ears when Upton announced a Mr. Roger Montgomery. Surely, the world held more than one Roger Montgomery. England alone would have to have a few. But when she greeted him in the library—now scrupulously free of stray manuscript pages—she found the very fellow who’d intruded on her enjoyment of the opera.
He bowed, rather more deeply than strictly necessary. “Lady Rushford.”
She didn’t curtsey in response. “Mr. Montgomery.”
“I couldn’t believe my luck when I learned you lived on the next estate over from Hollyfield.”
“Are you a guest there?”
“An uninvited one, I’m afraid,” he said. “I took a fall from my horse. Injured my ankle.”
The ankle in question did seem quite swollen, although the bandage would have contributed to its bulk. The rest of him appeared just as immaculate and finely tailored as ever. Still somber in color but expensive in the fabric and the cut.
“I hope you make a fast recovery,” she said. “Then you can continue your journey.”
He stiffened ever so slightly, and for a brief second, a hard glint entered his luminous, dark eyes. He recovered immediately, giving her an easy smile. “Would you be rid of me so quickly?”
“It’s an expression,” she said. “I only wished for your good health.”
“I thank you.” He paused for a moment, as if weighing his words. “I got the impression that I annoyed you the other night.”
“Put it out of your mind. It was a long time ago.”
“A few weeks, at the most,” he said.
“Well, yes, I suppose. It feels like a long time.” He had most definitely bothered her. Or maybe bewildered was a better word. He’d done it again just now, jumbling time badly enough that their encounter at the opera might have happened last night or last year for all she knew.
“In any case, I wanted to apologize,” he said.
“Please, don’t. There’s no need.”
“Then I’ve borrowed Captain Northcross’s gig for nothing,” he said. “Perhaps you’d allow me to redeem myself by consenting to ride out with me.”
“A ride,” Rose’s voice said from behind Montgomery, where she’d just entered the room. “That’s a splendid idea.”
Montgomery turned and bowed to Rose. “I haven’t had the pleasure.”
“Rose, this is Mr. Roger Montgomery,” Bess said. “My friend, Mrs. Thornton.”
“My pleasure,” Montgomery said. “You’ll join us, Mrs. Thornton?”
“Not I. I have too much to do.” Rose curtseyed. “Besides, the gig’s too small for three. I’ll let Anna know where you’ve gone.”
Montgomery’s dark eyebrow arched. “Anna?”
“Our friend,” Bess said.
“Three lovely ladies in one household,” he said. “Mr. Thornton must count himself a lucky man.”
“My husband—”
“Mrs. Thornton is a widow,” Bess said.
“I’ve said something amiss again,” he said. “My condolences, ma’am.”
“You couldn’t have known.” Rose gave him a brave smile. “Thank you.”
“Now, I insist you let me make amends with a pleasant drive, Lady Rushford.”
“Do go, Bess. There’s nothing to do before dinner.”
“I’ll bring the gig around.” Montgomery placed his hat on his head and left the room. The moment he was out of earshot, Rose went to Bess and placed a hand on her arm.
“Well, now. Who’s this one?” Rose asked.
“Someone I met in London.”
“You didn’t tell us about him.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” Bess said.
“Nothing to tell?“ Rose fanned her face. “Handsome men seem to flock around you of late.”
“Striking, maybe. I’m not sure I’d call him handsome.”
“Those dark eyes could seduce most women.” Rose smirked, positively smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re immune.”
“Seduce, yes, but not for the woman’s own good. I don’t entirely trust him,” Bess said.
Rose laughed lightly. “You don’t have to trust him. You’re not going to marry him.”
“At least you have that right,” Bess said.
“You’ll just ride with him and make Captain Northcross jealous,” Rose said.
“Now, how would Captain Northcross find out I’d done that?”
Rose didn’t answer with words. She didn’t have to. The pretend innocent expression on her face spoke volumes. Of course. They were soon to be visited by the captain’s young sister. The story would get to her and from her back to Hollyfield.
“You wouldn’t use the poor girl that way,” Bess said.
“The subject of Roger Montgomery is bound to come up. I have no control over what she repeats to her brother.”
“You’ve suddenly developed a devious streak. I’m not sure I like it.”
“Never mind.” Rose put an arm around Bess and propelled her toward the front door. “Enjoy your ride.”
Before she could utter a word, Rose had pushed her out the door and closed it behind her. The silly woman. Bess couldn’t possibly ride around the countryside without a parasol or bonnet. The few times she’d forgotten both, she’d turned an unappealing red from the sun. While that might make a nice punishment for Rose, it would also hurt like the devil, so Bess turned around and opened the door again. Rose stood on the other side, holding both objects in her hands. She shoved them at Bess and blocked the threshold with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Ride,” Rose ordered.
“As if I had any choice.” Bess plopped the bonnet on her head without bothering to tie the ribbon beneath her chin and walked down the steps toward where Montgomery waited for her next to the gig.
“Your friend has definite ideas on things,” he said.
“I hope you never get an earful.”
He laughed as he helped her up into the small carriage. “I’m sure they’d be lost on a poor male like me.”
After circling around, he climbed onto the seat beside her, took the reins, and clucked to the horse. The animal took them down the drive and onto the country road that marked the boundary between Carlton House and Hollyfield.
“What brings you to this part of England, Mr. Montgomery?” she asked, more for something to say than anything else.
“Business, Lady Rushford. I’m in trade.”
“So are a great many people, I gather.”
He glimpsed at her out of the corner of his eye. “You don’t disapprove?”
“What other people do is no concern of mine unless it harms children or small animals.” Or women. He might well do that.
“I assure you, I harm neither.”
“Then we have no argument,” she said.
“Others of the nobility aren’t as open minded as you,” he said. “They look down their noses at people who must work.”
“Some people need more to worry about in their own lives.”
“I think you and I agree on a great many things.”
At the fork in the road, he took the branch that would lead them into the nearby village. He might have chosen it at random, or he might have planned
to have them seen together.
“When did you arrive?” she asked.
“My unfortunate accident occurred last night.”
So recently. He’d been busy, then, coming out to look for her before he’d even rested. At least it explained the fact that none of the party from Hollyfield had mentioned him when they’d visited.
“Do you know the viscount and his family?” she asked.
“Only from the night I met his younger brother at the opera. It was good of them to take me in.”
Not so much good as the usual custom to give shelter to strangers in need. He might not realize that from living in London. On the other hand, he might have counted on it. How he made her suspicious of his every motive was a bit of a mystery.
“It’s common decency to help a traveler,” she said. “They couldn’t have refused you without being rude to the point of cruelty.”
“I fear I’ve revealed my lack of knowledge on the subject of manners,” he said. “You must think me coarse and ill bred.”
“Why should I think you something like that?” she said. “Why should I think you anything at all?”
“You agreed to ride out with me. I wouldn’t want you to have to tolerate disagreeable company.”
“I promise you I’m no delicate flower and won’t wither away.”
He laughed. “Good. Then perhaps you’ll allow me to buy you a pastry.”
The man drove the gig down the center street and stopped before the baker’s shop. Once he’d tethered the horse, he came around to help Bess down. His grip on her hand was firm and dry. Pleasant enough, like the rest of him. And still, it suggested an intimacy they didn’t share and most likely one she’d never welcome. As soon as her feet hit the ground, he released her hand and stepped back, gesturing toward the shop. But he touched her again as they entered, placing his palm at the small of her back.
Two other customers stood inside—a woman in her middle years and a gangly young man who appeared from his features to be related to her. The woman looked familiar, although Bess couldn’t quite place her.
The woman dropped a curtsey. “Lady Rushford.”
Bess responded in kind. “I’m afraid . . .”
“Mrs. Cassandra Oxley,” the woman said.
“Of course. How could I have forgotten?” Bess said.