“Aunt Sophie!” Tess crouched down beside her aunt, her chest constricting with fear. Her aunt had never fainted and she’d hardly been sick a day in her life! She was one of the hardiest people Tess had ever known. In fact she used to secretly ridicule ladies who would fall into a faint at the slightest provocation, calling them “lilting willies” instead of wilting lilies.
“Get back!” Janelle brandished her hands at the hovering crowd.
“Who has smelling salts?” Heath stepped forward and crouched down beside Aunt Sophie.
“I do!” Janelle cried, but at the look on everyone’s face, she frowned. “Not for me, you fools, but for occasions just like this.”
Heath grabbed the salts and squatted down, opening the small vial and holding it under Aunt Sophie’s nose.
Aunt Sophie’s nostrils twitched and she blinked rapidly.
Tess pressed her hand to her chest as relief washed over her. “Are you all right?”
Aunt Sophie’s eyes widened. “Oh my. Please tell me that I didn’t faint.”
“It happens sometimes,” Heath replied calmly. “Don’t sit up just yet. Wait a moment to get your senses back.”
“My senses are just fine,” Aunt Sophie murmured, adjusting her bonnet. “Please.”
Heath held her arms and assisted her to stand on one side while Tess helped on the other.
Releasing Tess, Aunt Sophie patted her hair. Her cheeks were flushed. “I’m all right. Thank you. I simply…” Her eyes flitted to Heath and then away. “Well, I fainted. What can I say?”
Tess placed her hand on her aunt’s back, unwilling to let her go just yet. “Can I get you something? The tea is likely cold by now, but you should drink something, I think. It’s good to do that after a faint, isn’t it?”
“You’ve never fainted a day in your life,” Aunt Sophie chided, obviously embarrassed.
Tess lifted a shoulder, wanting to help in some way. “It can’t be a bad idea, though.”
“Must you always have a suggestion?” Aunt Sophie’s tone was sharp. “Sometimes things just need to be left alone.”
Hurt, Tess pursed her lips, not understanding the signals from her aunt.
Mr. Smith handed Aunt Sophie a cup of tea.
“Thank you. But I do wish that you would all stop making such a fuss. I got a bit light-headed, that’s all.” Aunt Sophie smiled at Mr. Smith. “And whom do I have the pleasure of thanking?”
He bowed. “Mr. Smith at your service. But everyone calls me Bills.”
Aunt Sophie nodded. “Lady Braxton. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Glad for the veneer of normalcy, Tess motioned to Heath. “I don’t know if you remember him, but this is Heath Bartlett, Mr. Henry Bartlett’s son—you remember, our former tutor.”
Aunt Sophie’s cheeks reddened. “Ah, yes, I vaguely recall a Henry Bartlett.”
Tess could tell that her aunt was lying and suddenly suspected that her aunt knew more about the incident with Mr. Bartlett and her mother than she’d let on.
“Your father was from Beverley, was he not?” Aunt Sophie asked.
Heath inclined his head, since obviously it was hard to bow while he was still holding Aunt Sophie’s arm. “Yes. I’m surprised you remember. It is a pleasure to see you again, Lady Braxton. I trust that you are feeling better?”
Aunt Sophie’s hand flapped around her flushed face. “Uh, very much, thank you. It was a silly little nothing. I’m usually quite resilient.”
Tess’s eyes narrowed. Her aunt’s voice was high and she was acting oddly. Had she hit her head? Her normally pale skin was very pink. Was she ill? Maybe a visit from Dr. Winner was in order.
Aunt Sophie beamed up at Heath, her eyelashes fluttering. “I must say, there’s a benefit to fainting if there’s a handsome man around to catch you.”
Heath smiled. “It’d be my pleasure to catch you any time you feel woozy, Lady Braxton.”
“How gallant of you.”
Tess realized that her aunt was leaning on Heath. “Do you feel dizzy, Aunt? Do you still feel light-headed?”
“I’m fine, really, dear.” Aunt Sophie replied without looking Tess’s way.
“I think we should call for Dr. Winner, just in case.”
“Oh, nonsense, dear. I’m fine.” Aunt Sophie’s tone had taken on an edge. “I really am feeling quite recovered.”
“Oh. Well, ah, did you receive my letter about the plans for Uncle Jack’s party?”
Aunt Sophie’s eyes veered away. “I did. Thank you, but I’d prefer to discuss it another time.”
Looking to Aunt Sophie, Heath motioned to a nearby chair. “Shall we?”
“The chaise,” Aunt Sophie directed. “The one by the window, if you please.” Her lips quivered. “So tell me, Mr. Bartlett, how is it that you’ve come to grace our little society?”
Feeling useless and rejected, Tess did not follow as Heath led her aunt to a narrow chaise and sat down beside her.
Moving to stand alongside Tess, Mr. Smith murmured, “Oh, don’t feel badly. It’s a little flirtation, nothing more.”
Tess blinked, confused. “What? You think…?”
“Even I can recognize that he’s shockingly handsome. She’ll flutter her lashes a bit. Feel a bit of her youth. It’s harmless.”
“Flirt? My aunt Sophie? You must be mistaken.” Involuntarily Tess’s gaze shifted to her aunt and Heath. Aunt Sophie was fluttering her eyelashes! And to make matters worse, she was leaning forward, giggling, touching her hair…doing everything to prove Mr. Smith’s words to be true!
“I can’t believe it,” Tess muttered. “Here I am terrified that there’s something wrong with her and she’s acting the coquette!” Tess tried to ignore the little pinch of jealousy in her heart. This was her dearest aunt, for heaven’s sake!
Mr. Smith leaned forward conspiratorially. “Don’t worry, if you still want him, he’s yours.”
Tess gasped aloud.
All eyes turned to Tess, and silence descended in the salon.
She offered a weak smile. “Uh, I…just…uh, had a tickle in my throat…”
After their attention had seemed to wane, Tess turned to Mr. Smith. “What the blazes are you talking about?” she whispered.
“You and Bartlett.”
“There is no ‘me and Mr. Bartlett.’”
“That’s not what it looks like from my vantage point.”
She crossed her arms. “Did he say something to you about me?”
“Nay. The man’s a steel trap; he never lets on about anything. This is all from observation. The attraction between you two is quite palpable.”
Opening and then closing her mouth, Tess had no response.
Mr. Smith shrugged. “He’s a fine fellow, even if he does have an overblown sense of ambition. But who can blame him? I mean, look what happened to his father.”
Uneasy, she uncrossed her arms. “What do you mean?”
“The man never had a care for his career. From what little Bartlett says, I get the impression that his father was brilliant and could have gone quite far in academics or any other avenue he chose, but…”
“But what?”
Mr. Smith’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “The man tends to have ‘lapses in judgment,’ as my friend likes to call them.”
“What do you call them?”
“Indiscretions.”
“Affaires?”
“Yes, and often with the wrong kind of ladies.”
“His employers’ wives?”
Mr. Smith’s face was apologetic. “Yes. But I must add that the elder Mr. Bartlett seems a perfect gentleman, so I daresay his attentions only fix when he’s duly invited.”
“Duly invited.” Tess snorted. My mother was an idiot to have risked her family so.
“As a result Heath’s prospects were somewhat diminished and he had to scrape for every bit he’s gotten. And I daresay he never traded on his good looks. I’ve never met the elder Mr. Bartlett; does Heath resemble him
much?”
“I think so.” As Tess’s gaze shifted to Heath, she realized that the attributes that she’d never noticed in her tutor, Mr. Bartlett, were the very ones with which she was becoming obsessed in his son. Those strapping shoulders, large hands, and cocoa brown eyes were treacherous traps for the unwary. Having succumbed, Tess was finding it hard to regret it.
Had her mother been similarly affected? If she’d been discontented, lonely…
Tess shook her head, not wanting to understand.
Mr. Smith scratched his ear. “All I’m saying is that Heath has worked hard not to follow his father’s model. He wants more for himself. More for his children. He wants a solid career and a respectable reputation that’s not tainted by whispers.”
“That counts me out,” Tess muttered under her breath. I wear scandal like a second skin. Her cheeks heated with anger.
“Not necessarily.”
Tess looked up. Her eyes narrowed. “What are you about, Mr. Smith?”
“He wants respectability, but I don’t think he realizes that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. It’s certainly not worth all the fuss it requires.”
“I don’t understand. Don’t you want your friend to get all he wishes for?”
“Of course I do. Just not necessarily in the way he wishes to procure it.”
Tess’s eyes widened. “You don’t like Miss Whilom.”
“I didn’t say that.”
She couldn’t keep her lips from lifting into a smile. “You think he’s making a mistake.”
Mr. Smith raised a shoulder. “It’s been known to happen.”
A swell of relief interlaced with victory warmed her chest. But that made no sense. She didn’t want to marry Heath Bartlett, any more than she could be the perfect respectable wife to him. They didn’t suit. “Why are you trying to toss him my way, Mr. Smith?”
“To give him some perspective. A comparative scrutiny, so to speak.”
Nay, the idea of marrying Heath was too incredible to be considered, so Tess rejected it outright. She straightened. “I am not a scientific experiment. Nor do I have any interest in your friend. We knew each other once; now we are adversaries.” End of discussion.
“Adversaries? Don’t you think that’s a bit severe?”
Swallowing, Tess cursed her traitorous tongue. “In the bet, I mean. You will not make a mockery of this society. I won’t let you. I will win that wager.”
Tess noticed that her aunt had excused herself from Heath’s company and had exited the salon. Wanting escape, Tess turned to Mr. Smith. “If you would excuse me.”
He nodded. “Be kind. She’s just being a female.”
Tess stopped short. “What the devil does that mean?”
“She can’t help but flirt; it’s in her nature to be absorbed with men.”
Shaking her head, Tess snorted and then followed her aunt out of the room.
Chapter 19
As her aunt headed down the hallway, Tess hurried to catch up. “Aunt Sophie!”
Her aunt’s steps slowed and she turned with obvious reluctance. “Yes, dear?”
Stopping before her, Tess scrutinized her aunt’s face. “Are you all right? Really?”
“I’m fine.”
“Then were you flirting with Heath Bartlett?”
Aunt Sophie’s cheeks flushed pink.
“You were!” Tess cried, appalled that Mr. Smith could see what she’d been blind to, and even more disgusted that he had ammunition that supported his pigheaded notions about women.
Aunt Sophie’s eyes scanned the empty hallway, and then she led Tess into an empty reading room. After closing the door, she turned. “It was an innocent little nothing. Don’t make much of it.”
“But he’s practically my age!”
“It wasn’t about him. It had more to do with…me.”
Tess was taken aback. “What’s going on with you? I’ve never known you to flirt a moment in your life. You and Uncle Jack had the most solid of marriages. And you never faint. Are you sure you’re not sick? Dizzy? Shall I call for Dr. Winner just in case?”
Sighing, Aunt Sophie grasped Tess’s hand. “I’m fine. I just…well, I’m finally beginning to accept the fact that Jack is dead.”
“Oh.” Tess swallowed. “Go on.”
“And, well, I’m not dead.”
Tess squeezed her aunt’s hand. “Thank heavens.”
“I’m forty-nine years old, Tess. I was married for twenty-seven years to the love of my life. I like…I like being with a man. I like…having a partner.”
Tess ignored the uneasy twist in her belly pertaining to her aunt’s choice. “What does this have to do with Heath Bartlett?”
Aunt Sophie wrung her hands. “You’d not believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“Well, I was recently starting to…think about certain things…”
“Men,” Tess supplied, irritated once more that Mr. Smith had been correct. In this instance, at least.
“Yes. And, well, I was starting to ponder this quite a bit. Imagining what kind of man I might like to…be with. I don’t envision getting married, not at this point anyway, more like a dalliance.”
Tess nodded, reminded of how good it felt to experience passion once more. Feeling that incredible heat, the desperate yearning for—
Aunt Sophie laid a hand on Tess’s arm, drawing Tess back to the conversation. “Please understand that I’d never considered such a thing before now. I mean, I never strayed from your uncle Jack.”
“Ah, yes, I know, Aunt. You loved him well.”
“I did. I still do. But as I said, I’m not dead, and, well, in considering such an affaire—for fun, of course—”
“Of course.”
Aunt Sophie bit her bottom lip. “Well, Heath Bartlett bears a striking resemblance to the kind of man I was thinking about, and then…” Her smile was deprecating as her cheeks reddened and she gushed out, “Well, last night I had the most shocking dream, and I swear he was the leading man.” Pressing her hand to her mouth, she watched Tess, her gray eyes animated but vulnerable.
Tess exhaled. “Oh.”
“You must think me mad.”
Scratching her cheek, Tess shook her head. “Certainly not. He’s attractive.”
“Attractive? That’s like calling Wellington an ‘acceptable soldier.’ Heath Bartlett is a stallion. One of the first order.”
Inhaling a deep breath, Tess blushed. “I…ah, hadn’t noticed.”
Aunt Sophie snapped open her fan and waved it about. “I know you have no interest in men these days, Tess, but you couldn’t miss that muscular physique!”
Powerful, too. Strong enough to lift a woman in his arms so easily that she feels lighter than air.
Brandishing the fan, Aunt Sophie moaned. “And those shoulders!”
Strapping and firm in all the right places.
The fan quaked. “And that long raven hair!”
Like strands of silk through my fingers.
Pressing her hand to her breast, Aunt Sophie raised her brows. “The resemblance to the man I’d dreamed about was such a shock, well, it was all a bit much for me. Hence the faint.”
“That must have been quite a dream,” Tess muttered, feeling warm and slightly breathless.
“Decidedly.” Shaking her head, Aunt Sophie inhaled. “Then to see him standing in our society, as real as day…”
Tess bit her lip, wondering why she was so distressed. “But Heath isn’t the man in your dream. He only resembles that man. I mean, you’re not really interested in Heath, are you?”
“Oh no, of course not. No matter how much of a stallion he is, he’s far too young for me.”
Although Tess felt guilty about it, she felt the need to reiterate, “Almost twenty years. A whole generation, actually.”
But she loved her aunt so much and didn’t want her to discount any possibility for her happiness—broadly speaking, of course. “But there are so many men who would
be lucky for a chance to spend some time with you.”
“Old men, you mean?” Aunt Sophie’s dove gray eyes were amused.
“No, of course not. Just not a man well over twenty years your junior.”
“I thought it was only almost twenty?”
Tess scowled. “You know what I mean.”
Aunt Sophie smiled. “I do. So you don’t hold it against me?”
Wrapping her arms around her aunt, Tess hugged her close. “I want you to be happy. I want you to have a companion. Other than a censorious and petulant niece, that is.”
“You’re not petulant.”
“Very funny.”
Releasing Tess, Aunt Sophie sighed. “I’m so relieved. I was worried that you would think ill of me. That I couldn’t have loved Jack if I could be with another man. I know you’ve been quite the nun since Quentin…”
Shrugging a shoulder, Tess didn’t meet her aunt’s eyes. “Perhaps because you loved so well, you know how to love. I don’t seem to have that talent. Mine seems to be in making mistakes.”
Aunt Sophie squeezed Tess’s hand. “Don’t say that, Tess. There’s a man out there waiting for you. Paul Rutherford is certainly interested.”
Tess changed the topic to one she was much more interested in discussing. “I can’t help but wonder if you picked a man who resembled Heath…because you knew his father.”
Releasing Tess’s hand, Aunt Sophie adjusted her sleeve. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Heath looks nothing like Uncle Jack, but he surely resembles his father. You know, the one you ‘vaguely’ recall.”
Aunt Sophie’s eyes skirted away. “Oh, that’s…a mere coincidence…”
“Is it? Or is it that when you considered a dalliance, you couldn’t help but think of another affaire?”
“What do you mean?” Aunt Sophie’s voice was high-strung with tension and she would not meet Tess’s eye.
Tess suddenly knew that every word Heath had said about Mr. Bartlett’s abrupt departure was true. But had he told the entire story?
Releasing her aunt’s hand, Tess crossed her arms. “I know about the painting of my mother. The one without clothing. Did my mother have an affaire with Mr. Bartlett?”
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