by Cheryl Bolen
“Each time I see you, you’re more beautiful,” Forrester told her when he collected her. She could tell by the sparkle in his mossy eyes he was sincere.
She had never held hands with a man before, so when his fingers laced through hers when handing her into the coach, it caused a significant fluttering in her chest.
Miss Appleton sat across from her in the carriage, and her betrothed came to sit next to her, once more clasping her hand in his. Would she ever grow accustomed to being close to him like this? Would the day ever come when she was so immune to his touch that he no longer elicited a tingling in her nerve endings?
When they arrived at their destination and she realized how much finer her dress was than Miss Appleton’s, she felt wretched. She was much too fond of her future sister to do anything that would put that lady ill at ease.
That afternoon her father had told her the Appletons were not very affluent. Dot vowed that when she and Forrester were married she would take the Appleton sisters to Mrs. Gainsworth’s and pay for all their finery.
The very idea of having sisters was almost as thrilling as having their brother for her husband.
To her surprise, the musical was held in the ballroom of the Upper Assembly Room. Forrester had explained that these gracious rooms were often pressed into use for musicals on non-dancing nights.
It was such a windy, cool evening, she was happy to get inside. There, she was pleased to see Glee Blankenship standing at the rear of the half-filled room with an incredibly handsome man. “Is that Mrs. Blankenship’s husband?” she whispered to Forrester.
He stared across the chamber. “Yes, that’s Blanks. Come, allow me to introduce you.”
Dot already thought Glee and her sister, Felicity, were the most beautiful women she had ever beheld, and now she thought Gregory Blankenship, whom, everyone referred to as Blanks, was undoubtedly the most handsome man she had ever seen. He was quite tall—and not just because he was standing beside his wife, who was much smaller than average. In addition, Blanks was possessed of dark eyes and thick, dark hair cut in a fashionable style. Everything about the man’s dress bespoke impeccable taste. She recalled having heard that he was in possession of a large fortune—a fortune he had voluntarily shared with his younger half-brother.
“My dear Miss Pankhurst,” her betrothed said to her when they reached the handsome couple, “I should like to present to you one of my oldest friends, Gregory Blankenship.” Then he looked at his friend. “Blanks, Miss Pankhurst has done me the goodness of consenting to become my wife.”
Glee shrieked. Blanks congratulated both of them. Glee threw her arms around Dot. “I am just so very happy for you! I knew when I saw you two together you would be perfect for one another!” Then Glee turned to Forrester. “You’ve done very well for yourself, Appleton. And it’s well past time you settle down.”
“Indeed it is, old fellow,” Blanks added.
“So all of you men met as young lads at Eton?” Dot asked. She was uncommonly happy with Forrester standing beside her, his hand resting possessively at her waist. He gave every indication of being proud to be her prospective husband. Which made her feel as if her chest had expanded by several inches.
Blanks nodded. “Yes. George, who’s Glee’s brother as well as the current Viscount Sedgewick; Sir Elvin and his twin; Appleton; and myself. That’s five of us”
“Moreland’s the only one who’s the . . . outsider, so to speak,” Forrester said.
Her brows lowered. “Moreland?”
“I don’t believe you’ve met him,” Miss Appleton said. “He’s married to Mrs. Blankenship’s sister.”
Dot nodded. “The beautiful blonde.”
Each person there said, “Yes,” all at once.
“My sister lives just outside of Bath and doesn’t always come to events here.”
“You will have to see the Morelands’ place sometime,” Forrester told her. “It’s said to be the finest home in all of Somerset.”
“I daresay home is too modest a word for something as grand as Winston Hall,” Miss Appleton said.
Forrester chuckled. “Calling it a palace would be more accurate.”
So both beautiful sisters had married very wealthy men, and though the sisters came from an aristocratic family, neither of their husbands were from the nobility. It wasn’t uncommon for those with money to marry into pedigree. Isn’t that what her own father had wished for her? Forrester was offering his title in exchange for her money—not that she gave a fig for titles. She cared for the man, not the title. She hoped he cared for her, not her fortune.
She prayed there was more to this prospective marriage than a financial agreement. She had allowed herself to believe that Forrester had become her friend and champion before it could possibly have been known in Bath that she was an heiress.
“I hear you talking about this George quite a bit. Is he not in Bath?”
“That’s my brother,” Glee said. “He prefers his place in the country with his wife and children.”
Blanks nodded. “He’s certainly sown his fair share of wild oats. In the past.”
All at once, she sensed that Forrester stiffened. She looked up at him, and the pleasant expression on his face vanished. His gaze moved to a pasty-faced man who appeared to be making his way toward them.
She watched him watch the man move toward them. Instead of addressing Forrester, though, the man came to stand beside Miss Appleton. “Good evening, Miss Appleton. How good it is to see you again.” Then he looked at her brother and Blanks, nodding to each and giving each of the men a curt address.
It did not escape her notice that both Forrester and Blanks returned his greeting with only a nod. No smile, no words, though both men were, to her observation, normally friendly.
Even the normally congenial Miss Appleton was brusque. “Good evening, Mr. Wolf,” was all she had to say to him.
Their group was blocking the center aisle as thickening crowds were moving into the chamber. “We’d best take our seats,” Forrester said, presenting his back to Mr. Wolf. How odd, she thought, that he did not even introduce her to this Mr. Wolf.
Obviously, there was some degree of bad blood between Mr. Wolf and Forrester and Blanks.
The Blankenships came to sit on the same row of chairs with them. A gilt harp and a pianoforte stood unattended at the front of the chamber. A few moments after the five of them were seated, she discreetly turned to look about the room. Now it was completely full. On the last row she observed Mr. Wolf sitting by himself. A loner. I must ask Forrester about this man they all shunned. Why did they all loathe him so? Even sweet Miss Appleton.
She turned to that lady. “I haven’t told you how exceedingly happy I am that we shall be sisters.”
Miss Appleton took both her hands. “We couldn’t have asked for a better wife for Timothy. I can’t wait for our other sisters to meet you. I know they’ll love you just as much as I do.”
“You will surely turn me into a watering pot, my dearest Miss Appleton.”
“You must call me Annie.”
“And you must call me Dot.”
The entertainers then moved to the front of the chamber, and the voices in the room quieted. A matronly woman in a voluminous gown of flimsy icy blue that one could see through introduced the singer, an exceedingly young and very pretty Miss Elizabeth Milford.
The young lady sang like a nightingale. Dot was mesmerized. Mr. Pankhurst had seen to it that talented pianists and singers instructed Dot, but never had she imagined the human voice could display such perfection as demonstrated by Miss Milford. How could every man in this room not fall in love with the beautiful songstress?
Dot had never felt more inadequate.
The singer was so beautiful it wouldn’t have mattered what the lovely young woman wore, but her clothing, too, was perfection. Her crepe dress of the palest green scooped low in front—though the lady’s bosom was almost non-existent—and rose to puffs of sleeves. A demi-train of gauze
in the same shade of pale green was only barely discernable in the shimmering candlelight. Dot thought she was the most elegant creature she’d ever seen.
Without moving her head, Dot kept looking at Forrester to try to gauge his interest in Miss Milford. He did not remove his eyes from her. Dot found herself wondering if he would have been attracted to the singer were he not betrothed. Would he wish that he had seen her before meeting Dot?
Even though Dot’s own dress was lovelier than any in the room, she could not deny that she envied the beautiful Miss Elizabeth Milford.
She was grateful she had come to Bath and been awakened to a world she’d never dreamed existed—even if she still thought of herself as a misfit. Most of all, she was thankful for Forrester. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe he was wildly in love with her, but she was hopeful that love would grow between them.
He was a good man. Good men became faithful and loving husbands. As one who had been able to observe village life, Dot had the opportunity to learn a good deal about human nature.
When Miss Milford’s performance came to an end, Dot was disappointed. It had been her first-ever musical, and she had not wanted it to stop. Moreover, she did not want this night to be over. Dressing in lovely clothing, being with her new friends, and most of all, being with Forrester was exhilarating. She did not want to go home.
“Excuse me for a moment, love, while I speak to Blanks.” Forrester gently set a hand to her arm before moving away.
She then turned to Annie. “How did you enjoy your first musical?” Annie asked.
“It was more wonderful than I ever could have imagined.” Her gaze swept to the rear of the chamber, and she saw Mr. Wolf slink away. Lowering her voice, she asked, “Who is Mr. Wolf, and why is everyone so discourteous to him?”
Annie shrugged. “I am not privy to that information. I know only that the man was desirous of meeting me, and my brother rather loathes him. Timothy’s disfavor is enough to win my disapproval. I would also add that my brother rarely speaks ill of anyone and is predisposed to like most people. He’s an excellent judge of character—and of right and wrong.”
Dot smiled. “I am most happy to learn that for I value your opinion most sincerely.”
Forrester returned, and to her pleasure, placed his hand to her waist. “Our coach should be waiting.”
They said goodnight to the Blankenships and followed the crowd as it emptied from the packed chamber.
A gusty wind accompanied the night’s chill. “Good lord, it’s beastly cold!” Forrester hurried the ladies toward the waiting carriage.
Once they were in the coach, he addressed his sister. “I’ve instructed the coachman to drop you off at Camden Crescent.”
Annie smirked good naturedly. “So that you and your sweetheart can be alone.”
Dot’s heartbeat thumped. Would he try to kiss her? How incredibly romantic. Yet at the same time, Dot was terrified her ineptitude would embarrass her. Would he be able to determine she had no experience kissing? Would she do everything wrong? Would she repulse him? She was unable to control her trembling.
He felt it and put his arm around her. “Of course, I want to be alone with my sweetheart.”
When the coach pulled in front of Appleton House on Camden Crescent, Dot lifted the velvet curtain to look at it. After all, it was going to be her home. That first day she’d come here she hadn’t properly observed it because of her excitement over her new friends and trepidation of trying to learn to dance.
Large brass lanterns flanked the glossy front door topped by a fan-shaped window.
“Since my brother and Sir Elvin and Blanks are engaged tomorrow, I wondered if you would accompany me to the lending library,” Annie asked Dot as she climbed down from the coach, assisted by the coachman.
“That would be lovely.”
“I’ll come to your house at noon, then,” Annie said.
“Our footman will escort you,” Forrester said. “It’s no longer safe for young women in Bath.”
Alone in the coach with Forrester, Dot was comforted that he held her close, but she dreaded the kiss she knew was sure to come—not that she didn’t want to kiss him. She did. But she didn’t want to suffer what was sure to be his disappointment over her inexperience.
“What are you and the fellows doing tomorrow?” she asked.
“They had wanted to go to a cock fight, but I’ve sworn off gambling. Forever. So now we’re going to spar.”
She turned to him. “Spar? I’ve never heard of that. Is that something men in would do in London at a place like White’s? I’ve heard of White’s, you see.”
He tossed his head back and laughed. “I don’t mean to offend you, my dear, but sparring is most definitely not done at a gentleman’s club.”
“Then it’s something one does out of doors?”
“It can be done out of doors, but we generally do it indoors.”
Her brows lowered. Her lips pursed in disdain. “Are you going to tell me what sparring is?”
“Sparring, my love, is the act of practicing pugilism against a friendly opponent. We do it for fun.”
“It sounds dangerous. I do hope you don’t get hurt.”
“We don’t get hurt.”
He cleared his throat. “I wanted to be alone with you in order to discuss something I learned this afternoon.”
She spun toward him. “You learned something about Ellie Macintosh!”
“I did. I got the direction of her lodgings from Mrs. Starr. I thought perhaps tomorrow afternoon, when we’re finished sparring, you and I could make inquiries. You’ll probably think of things that a man wouldn’t think to ask, things that might be important.”
She was pleased that he thought her capable. “I should be honored to accompany you.”
The coach then drew up before her house. She waited a moment, expecting him to kiss her. But he didn’t. The coachman opened the door, and one of her family’s footmen sprang from the house.
“I shall endeavor to meet you tomorrow at the lending library,” Forrester said as she moved to exit the carriage. Had he slapped her in the face, she could not have felt more rejected.
He hadn’t even wanted to kiss her.
Chapter 9
The two young ladies spent over an hour perusing the shelves of the lending library. During that time they discovered their taste in poetry dovetailed almost perfectly. Though they recognized Lord Byron’s genius, his narrative did not speak to either of them. But each confessed that upon reading Lyrical Ballads, an exciting new world of poetry had opened up to her. “I declare, Dot,” Annie said, “I have memorized almost every stanza penned by Wordsworth.”
A huge smile broke over Dot’s face. “It’s the same with me. In fact, the pages of my copy, which I’ve brought here to Bath, are pathetically limp and crumpled from use.”
“Mine is the same!”
Both women went on to criticize the gothic romances written by Mrs. Radcliffe. “I’m not terribly interested in novels,” Annie said, “but I did greatly admire Pride and Prejudice.”
“I’ve read it three times. I confess I fell in love with Mr. Darcy and giggled excessively over Mr. Collins.”
“I never thought of myself as a romantic until I read it.”
“Who wouldn’t fall in love with Mr. Darcy?” Dot had never given much thought to marrying until she read that book. And now she was ripe for matrimony and her own Mr. Darcy.
Her insides felt queasy when she recalled the awkwardness in the carriage the previous night when her husband-to-be did not want to kiss her.
“What do you prefer to read?” Annie asked.
“Papa says I have well-rounded reading taste, but then he imbues me with many qualities I don’t possess.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I will own a partiality to reading about history though I don’t have a great fondness for the Greeks.” She moved to a shelf that featured history tomes. “I thought I might enjoy Gibbons’ Rise and Decline of the Roman Empire.”
Dot smiled. “Just the first today. It’s in our library at Blandings, but I haven’t read it. Now I fancy doing so.” She picked up Volume One.
“I’m partial to Mr. Scott’s historical novels myself.”
“Oh, I do share your interest in those. When I finish Gibbons . . .” Dot laughed.
Annie selected Scott’s newest novel, and the two moved to the attendant in order to process their books.
By the time they finished, Forrester stood on the pavement in front of the library, the family coach waiting. Dot thought he looked exceptionally fine today in a brown woolen coat the same colour as his hair. He wore it with buff breeches and soft leather boots that had obviously been polished that morning. A freshly starched cravat in white linen accentuated his straight white teeth. Even though his dress could not have been more casual, next to the other men moving through the streets of Bath, his tasteful elegance made him look like a king among beggars.
He addressed his sister. “I’ve come to collect my betrothed. I’ll return you to Camden Crescent.” He chuckled. “I brought the coach because I thought you’d be laden down with books and didn’t want you to have to walk uphill with so heavy a load. Why the unusually light load?”
“Because Dot and I spoke endlessly of our similar taste in books. My soon-to-be-sister and I have a great deal in common when it comes to reading.”
His smile brought an immediate softening of his features. “It has not escaped my observations that you two have a great deal in common, notwithstanding books.”
The ladies exchanged amused glances. “How perceptive your brother is.”
He handed first his sister into the coach, then Dot, whom he came to sit beside. He examined each lady’s choice.
“Do you approve, sir?” Dot asked.