The Demure Debutante - a Regency Novella

by Caylen McQueen

“Hmm,” Augusta mused. “You almost make him sound appealing!”

  “Mother!” Edward groaned. “Have you no love for me at all?”

  “Oh, Ed, I am only jesting. Willow is lucky to have you, I am sure.” Augusta held out her arms to her son, who gave her a reluctant embrace. Then the mother turned her attention back to Arthur, who was still holding Mr. Fibbles. “And I still cannot believe how handsome you are, sir! It is almost unbelievable. Are you a bachelor?”

  “I am.” Arthur stroked the cat's head as he replied. Mr. Fibbles was purring so loudly in his arms, everyone surrounding him could hear it.

  “Do you hear that, Emilia?!” The mother gave her daughter a gentle nudge. “A perfectly eligible bachelor is right under our noses!”

  “Mother!” Emilia shrieked. All of a sudden, she was wishing she could hide in the carriage with Mr. Fibbles. Her face was so inflamed by her mother's words, Emilia swore she could feel her cheekbones melting.

  “Really, Mother, you should learn to mind your tongue! Poor Emilia...” Edward said. He wrapped an arm around Willow's back and took a step toward Sanborne Hall, hoping everyone would follow. “We have some refreshments prepared... tea and biscuits. Why don't we go inside?”

  “A smashing idea!” Augusta exclaimed.

  Arthur handed Mr. Fibbles to Emilia and proceeded to steer Augusta's Bath chair toward the house. Willow and Edward led the way, arm-in-arm. Emilia trailed behind everyone; she nuzzled Mr. Fibbles and prayed she could end the day with her dignity intact. She was standing directly behind Arthur, and was surprised to find her gaze traveling to his rear end. He had an athletic build, and his back side looked splendid in his tight breeches. Emilia usually did not notice that sort of thing, but where Arthur Rochefort was concerned, it was impossible not to notice.

  Emilia followed everyone to a sitting room, where the servants immediately presented them with tea and a wide assortment of biscuits. Emilia nibbled a biscuit and sipped her tea, but most of her attention was focused on Mr. Fibbles, who was watching her biscuit with envy. It was much easier to stare at a cat than it was to make eye contact with another human being.

  “So, you were married before, Willow?” Augusta inquired.

  “I was... but my marriage was brief, and my husband was much older than I was,” Willow said.

  “How much older?”

  “There was a chasm between our ages,” Willow said. “I was seventeen, and he was nearly fifty.” Willow looked over at Edward, who was surprised to hear the news. Her husband's age was a topic she had yet to discuss with her new fiance.

  Augusta pursed her lips. “I am nearly fifty! Now I am feeling quite old!”

  “I would not want to make you feel old, Mrs. Harcourt!” Willow exclaimed. “I was not saying my husband was old, only that he was much older than I was.”

  “Well... do not feel bad, Willow. I know I am in my dotage,” Augusta said with a sigh. “Old age happens to the best of us, I am afraid. Even my daughter, as young as she is, will find herself beset with wrinkles one day!”

  “Thank you for reminding me, Mother.” Emilia looked up and rolled her eyes, and when she did, she caught Arthur Rochefort staring at her. As soon as she met his gaze, he quickly looked away. Then her eyes traveled to Edward, who was staring at his fiance with obvious admiration.

  Her brother was in love.

  His devotion to Wilomena Worthington was as plain as day; his sentiments were practically pouring from his adoring eyes.

  If only someone would love me like that, Emilia thought with a sigh.

  “ACHOO!”

  The sudden sharpness of Augusta Harcourt's sneeze made Emilia's body jolt with alarm. In the corner of her eye, she saw Arthur whip out a handkerchief and hand it to her mother, who was smiling at him like an enchanted schoolgirl.

  He is handsome, Emilia thought to herself. Amazingly handsome. It is almost unreal.

  Then she caught Arthur's gaze again, and Emilia's heart tumbled in her chest. It was the second time she caught him staring at her.

  Was she foolish to hope?

  Chapter Three

  Emilia was daydreaming about Arthur when she heard the knock on the door. She was glad to be rescued from her thoughts, as nonsensical as they were. Arthur Rochefort was impossibly handsome and improbably perfect—dreaming about him was a waste of time, since he wasn't likely to spare her a second thought.

  When Emilia opened the door, Willow was standing on the other side with a puppy in her hands. The mangy terrier mix was squirming in her arms, desperate to make the new girl's acquaintance. As soon as Willow set the puppy on its feet, it ran to Emilia and proceeded to lick her feet.

  “Good evening,” Willow greeted her.

  “Good... evening,” Emilia shyly responded. Their awkwardly exchanged greetings were followed by a period of silence. Conversing with another woman was much easier than conversing with a man, and yet, she did not know what to say to her brother's fiance.

  “Do you mind if I come in?” Willow asked. “If we are to be sisters, I would like to get to know you.”

  “Certainly.” Emilia stepped out of the doorway and went to her bed. The puppy stayed on her heels, licking her wherever its pink tongue could reach. Unfortunately, Emilia had long since removed her slippers, and now her feet were covered in dog spittle.

  “I'm sorry about Eddie,” Willow said.

  “Eddie? Edward?!”

  “Oh... no.” Willow answered with a chuckle. “Eddie is the name of my puppy.”

  “Oh.” When Emilia sat on the end of her bed, the puppy desperately tried to follow her. But making it to the bed was more than his tiny legs could manage. Eddie stared up at her, longingly, wishing he could join her on the bed. “So you named your puppy after my brother?”

  “I did,” Willow confessed. “Actually, it was your brother who gave me the puppy. At the time, it seemed like a proper namesake.”

  “Do you...” Being a very cautious speaker, Emilia hesitated. She always took extra time to consider her words. “Do you like my brother?”

  “I do! Very much!” Willow exclaimed. “He is not like other men, and I mean that in the best possible way. While other men are aggressive and vain, Edward is docile and humble. He makes me smile, and he's quite cute.”

  “He's a good man,” Emilia agreed.

  “That he is.” Willow looked down at Eddie, who was circling the bed, wishing he could somehow get to Emilia. When she saw him tugging on the bedsheets with his teeth, Willow shrieked, “Hey! Stop!”

  “What is he doing?” Emilia asked, peering off the edge of the bed.

  “He's sinking his teeth into the sheets! Eddie!” Willow gently nudged him with her foot. “Eddie, stop! Mind your manners!”

  When Eddie released the bedsheets, his tongue sagged. Willow wondered if he was sticking out his tongue at her, or if it was just her imagination.

  “He seems like a rascal,” Emilia noted.

  “He is. He's the worst!” Willow crossed her arms as she glowered at the mutt. “As dense as he is, he doesn't even know his name!”

  “Maybe he'll learn?” Emilia suggested hopefully.

  “Perhaps.” Willow turned her attention back to the other girl, whose face was white as the bedsheets Eddie had gobbled. Was Willow wrong to think their social interaction was making her nervous? Without a doubt, Emilia shared her brother's social awkwardness. “So, Emilia, tell me more about yourself. You came from London, did you not? Do you enjoy the city?”

  “Yes... and no,” Emilia said. “There is much I do enjoy. The history. The atmosphere. However, my aunt keeps dragging me to various social gatherings, and I have hated them all.”

  “Really? And why is that?”

  Emilia shrugged. She started nibbling on her lip, further demonstrating her shyness. “I... cannot say, really. I... I suppose... well...” Emilia knew the reason for her aversion, but she could not bring herself to say it. I am a wallflower, I have no suitors, I never dance, I am perpetually ignor
ed...

  Willow sensed the girl's need for a change of subject, so she asked, “What do you usually do in your spare time, Emilia?”

  “Well... I read. A great deal,” Emilia said.

  “As do I,” Willow lied. She had not read a complete novel in at least two years. Not long ago, she had attempted to read a book called Rob Roy, since it had been recommended by Edward. Alas, she had recently abandoned it.

  “I also enjoy riding horses.”

  “As do I!” Willow said again, much more eager this time. “Although, I confess I have no idea how to ride sidesaddle. The last time I tried, it was nearly a tragedy. I almost slipped from the saddle several times!”

  “Then how do you ride?” Emilia asked, her curiosity piqued.

  “I ride the same way a man rides, in breeches. It is much more comfortable, I assure you,” Willow insisted. “We should go for a ride together, you and I. I can lend you some of my riding clothes.”

  “Oh... I... I don't know about that.” Emilia started chewing on her lower lip again. Somewhere below the bed, she heard a soft whimpering noise. Eddie was crying. Emilia felt guilty, so she leaned down, scooped the puppy from the floor, and laid him on the bed. Unfortunately, she forgot to take Mr. Fibbles' presence into account. Her cat was curled up on her pillow, sleeping. As soon as Eddie was on the bed, he ran to the cat and pounced.

  Mr. Fibbles was awake in an instant. With a yowl, the cat flew off the pillow and went into hiding under the bed. Not one to be abandoned, Eddie gave chase. When he tried to pursue the cat into the shadows, a furry white paw shot out and clobbered his nose.

  “I think your cat has a new nemesis,” Willow observed. Having tired of her puppy's behavior, she scooped him off the floor and cradled him in her arms.

  “It certainly seems that way.”

  “Well, as I was saying, you and I should go for a ride sometime. In breeches,” Willow suggested. “I am sure my brother will not approve of my influence on you, but--”

  “Your brother?” At the mention of Arthur, Emilia's cheeks reddened. “Why would he be concerned about... about me?”

  “Arthur frets about my reputation more than I've seen a man fret over anything. I am sure he has my best interests at heart, but it can be rather vexing. Being the consummate gentleman, he thinks he knows exactly how a lady should behave. If he sees you riding with me, I am sure he will fret about your reputation as well.”

  “Your brother...” Emilia closed her eyes, and when she did, she recalled an image of his perfect face. “I have... something to confess.”

  “What? About my brother?”

  “Mr. Rochefort,” Emilia began, and her cheeks turned redder than ever, “he's... he's very handsome.”

  “Goodness!” Willow had to laugh when she heard the young girl's confession. “If I had a ha'penny for every female who said that, I would be a very rich woman by now. I am sure he is handsome, but you better not tell him that!”

  As if she would ever tell him! Emilia had to summon a great deal of courage to admit her feelings to Willow. Talking to the brother about his good looks was definitely out of the question. Nevertheless, Emilia asked, “Why not?”

  “He might pretend to be humble, but Arthur Rochefort has a tremendous ego!” Willow said with a chuckle. “Trust me, his vanity does not need bolstering!”

  Chapter Four

  Both families gathered for supper, which consisted of roast duck and carrots. The latter must have been one of Willow's favorites, because she was inhaling the vegetables as if there was no tomorrow. Emilia, however, wasn't a great fan of carrots. She nibbled on them a bit, then shoved them into a pile, hoping no one would notice her aversion to her food.

  To her great horror, Arthur Rochefort was sitting on her left, and he was looking more handsome than ever. His hair was a bit wavy, and an adorable curl was resting on his forehead. As beautiful as he was, it was almost painful to look at him, which she did not dare to do. She did not want him to catch her staring at him, nor did she want to draw attention to the untouched piles of food on her plate. Emilia had learned, over many years, that the only way to calm her nerves was to avoid eye contact. With everyone.

  “Do you remember the last time we had carrots together?” Edward asked his fiance.

  “No. Why on earth would I remember that?!” Willow exclaimed. “If you remember such a minor detail, you must have a very good memory indeed!”

  “Edward remembers everything,” said his mother. “I forgot his tenth birthday, and he has never let me forget it!”

  “It is quite bad, really, forgetting the day you gave birth to your s-s-son!” Edward said with a pout. He did not realize he had stuttered, but Willow did not miss it. She reached over and pinched her fiance's neck. “Ow!”

  “Sorry. Was that too rough?” Willow simpered at him, a bit mischievously.

  “Did you just pinch my son?!” Augusta exclaimed.

  “Yes. Willow pinches me every time I stammer. Did you not notice my speech has improved?”

  “Hmm... perhaps.” Augusta rubbed her chin, on which there was a hairy mole. “Yes, I suppose it has! Well done, Willow!”

  “It has been my pleasure, ma'am,” Willow said with a smile. “Now, Edward... you were saying something about carrots?”

  “Yes. The last time we ate carrots, we were dining with Philip, and he said you were eating like a pig!”

  “Philip?!” Willow shrieked. “Why would you mention Philip's name, you dolt?!” She ran a hand down the length of her face in premature grief, because she knew her fiance's comment would pique the mother's curiosity.

  As if on cue, the woman asked, “Philip? Who is Philip?”

  “N-N-No one of importance, Mother,” said Edward, who got pinched again. “He is... well, he's...”

  Prior to meeting Edward, Willow was Philip's mistress, and Philip happened to be one of Edward's friends. But it wasn't as if they could admit that to his mother!

  “Ahem,” Arthur cleared his throat, hoping to redirect their attention. “This roast duck is amazing! Is it not seasoned to perfection?”

  “Indeed,” Willow agreed, grateful to her brother for his timely interruption. “It's quite good.”

  Though she did not participate in the conversation, Emilia's curiosity was piqued by the name Philip. Who was he? Whomever he was, his identity seemed to be a secret they wanted to conceal. Her mother turned her attention back to her food, which meant their attempt at changing the subject was a success. And Emilia, being the introverted girl that she was, did not dare to bring it up again.

  Emilia decided to sneak another glance at Arthur and was surprised to find him staring back at her. When their eyes met, her shoulders jolted with alarm. Emilia thought she saw a scar in the middle of his forehead, right above his eyebrows. Once again, he put her in mind of a rogue.

  “Not eating your vegetables?” Arthur teased her, pointing at her pile of untouched carrots.

  “I--”

  “They're good for your health... or so I've been told. You should probably eat them.”

  “Are we really having this conversation?!” Emilia complained. “Not only is it inane, but it makes you sound fatherly.” Emilia's eyes widened as the words flew out of her mouth. She did not often partake in caustic retorts.

  “Fatherly?” Arthur chuckled. “Willow would probably say the same thing. I am only two years older, but she claims I treat her like a child.”

  Two years older. His hint stuck out in her mind. She knew her brother's fiance was six and twenty, which would make Arthur eight and twenty. At least he wasn't so old. A ten-year age gap wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been.

  And just like that, their conversation ended. Her response must have taken too long, because his eyes were back on his plate. Or perhaps he was offended? You should not have said he was inane, Emilia chided herself. Or fatherly, for that matter! Arthur Rochefort was the handsomest man she had ever seen, but she had made a muck of their first exchange.

 
“Umm...” Emilia tried to get his attention again, but once she had it, she had no idea what to say. “Um... never mind.”

  “Is there something you wish to say?”

  “No. Never mind,” Emilia repeated. When she turned her attention back to her supper, her cheeks were crimson.

  “Were you going to tell me how dashing I look?” Arthur asked, grinning mischievously.

  “What?! I... NO!”

  “Ouch! Your answer was so adamant, I think my pride might be wounded!”

  Emilia's cheeks were growing warmer and redder by the second. It would have been the perfect opportunity to flirt, if not for the fact that flirtation was completely beyond her capabilities. Now he was going to think he was inane, fatherly, and far from dashing! She just wanted the night to be over, so she could go to her room, bury her face in her pillow, and wallow in shame.

  “You are... dashing,” she whispered to him.

  “Am I?”

  “You are,” Emilia insisted, ignoring the lump in her throat. “When I first met you, I thought you looked like a pirate.”

  “A pirate?! Really?” Arthur threw back his head and chuckled. “What made you think that, I wonder?”

  Emilia felt something pawing at her leg, so she peeled back the tablecloth. Sure enough, Eddie was under the table, gnawing on her slipper. Even though the puppy was behaving badly, she was grateful for the distraction.

  “Is that Eddie under there?” Arthur asked. “Cheeky mutt! This is becoming a nightly ritual. He's trying to steal our food!”

  “I think he's trying to eat my foot,” Emilia said. “What should we do?”

  Arthur held a finger over his lips, silencing her. Then he pulled a piece of roast duck from his plate and covertly slipped it to Eddie. As the puppy scarfed the meat, Arthur whispered, “Willow hates it when I give him food from my plate.”

  “Really? Why is that?”

  “She thinks it encourages him,” Arthur said. “He'll just come back tomorrow expecting more treats. But look at him!” Arthur glanced down at the puppy and smiled. “Who could possibly resist that mangy, furry face?”