by Ava Stone
Harry shook his head. “Of course not. But that doesn’t mean one should behave recklessly either. If one sets a flame to tinder, one should expect a fire.”
Berks shuddered at the thought. “Please don’t mention fires, if you don’t mind.”
“I’m just surprised the woman could lift a fire iron.” St. Austell frowned. “I doubt she weighs eight stones.”
Berks glared at his brother-in-law. “And. Don’t. Mention. Fire irons,” he ground out.
“Have you thought of names?” Tessie asked, linking her arm with Miranda’s as they started towards the drawing room to meet the others for dinner.
“Simeon if it’s a boy,” her friend began, though it sounded as though there was a lump in her throat. Miranda clearly still missed her oldest brother.
“And if it’s a girl?” Tessie pressed, hoping to distract her friend from the heartache that still plagued her.
Miranda shrugged a bit. “Harry’s convinced it’s a boy.”
What utter nonsense. Tessie couldn’t help but giggle. “Fairly certain fathers can’t determine such a thing. If they could, we’d all be boys.”
Miranda laughed now too. “I said something very similar last week.”
“What names are you thinking of then?”
“Well, Harry’s mother was Beatrice.”
“That’s a pretty name.” Tessie smiled.
“But… Well, Berks was the closest to her since he’s the oldest, so…”
“So you’re saving that name for him,” Tessie finished.
Miranda squeezed Tessie’s arm as she led her into the drawing room. “I’ve been thinking about Theresa. What do you think?”
Tessie stopped in her tracks, not paying attention in the least to the room’s other inhabitants. Truly touched, her hand fluttered to her chest. “Miranda, that’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“Well, you’re my dearest friend.” Miranda smiled.
And Miranda was most certainly Tessie’s dearest friend. Even after knowing every terrible choice Tessie’d made, Miranda had stood by her side. “You are the most wonderful lady. Do you know that?”
Miranda sniffed a bit.
“Now don’t make her cry,” came a silky smooth voice near the hearth. Tessie’s head turned in the direction of the voice to find the devilishly handsome Lord St. Austell, leaning his large frame against the mantle. “Female tears will only strike fear in the heart of our host.”
Miranda scoffed. “Don’t tease me, Jason. I’m not in the mood.”
“I would never tease you, Miranda.” The earl pushed away from the wall, and a roguish smile tipped his lips. “But the oh-so-noble Lord Berkswell is not himself these days, if you haven’t noticed.”
“He was gruff this afternoon.”
St. Austell chuckled. “Only because he already figured out what you and Pippa were up to. He’s a smart man, Berkswell. You’d do well to keep that in mind.”
What Miranda and Pippa were up to? Tessie cast her friend a sidelong glance. “What are you up to?”
“You didn’t tell her?” The earl laughed even harder.
“Tell me what?” Tessie asked.
Miranda stubbornly shook her head. “I have no idea what he’s talking about.”
“Don’t you?” St. Austell’s brow shot northward. “The late night discussions between you and my wife, all of your plotting to see the lonely marquess married off to Miss Birkin here?”
Tessie was certain her face turned white as ash. “I-I beg your pardon?” Miranda had plotted to see Tessie married to that brusque Berkswell? What in the world had she been thinking? He wasn’t at all the sort who would make Tessie happy. Besides, a man of his reputation and good standing would never look twice in Tessie’s direction. What a ridiculous, foolhardy—
“It’s no wonder my husband can’t abide you,” Miranda ground out, glaring at the earl as though he was the lowest of the low.
“Me?” A wicked glint flickered in the earl’s light blue eyes.
“Miranda!” Tessie managed to breathe out. “Why would you do that? Why would you bring Uncle Martin and me here, just to humiliate me?”
“Tess—” Miranda began, turning her gaze onto Tessie; but when someone cleared his throat from the threshold, her friend clamped her lips together.
“Ah, Berkswell!” Lord St. Austell said, the wicked glint in his eyes flickering even more devilishly. “We were just talking about you.”
Oh, heavens! What was the earl doing? Why would he say such a thing? Tessie’s breath caught in her throat.
“Were you, indeed?” the marquess asked, and though Tessie couldn’t force herself to glance at the man, she could tell his eyes were on her, like two hot coals of condescension.
Heavens! Had Miranda and Lady St. Austell said something to the marquess about her? What she wouldn’t give for the floor to open up and swallow her whole.
“Tessie was just commenting on what a lovely home Wellesborne Park is,” Miranda said.
“And,” Lord St. Austell continued smoothly, “I was telling her this was all thanks to your management of the place.Cardinham should be so lucky.”
“You’re too modest,” Lord Berkswell replied, stepping closer to the small group. “Your family seat is quite breathtaking as you are well aware.”
“That is kind of you to say, but I don’t believe I have the same love and devotion to the place as you do for Wellesbourne.”
Tessie and Miranda exchanged a glance as the marquess now stood between Miranda and the earl. Apparently, her friend didn’t understand why Lord St. Austell had brought them to the brink of discovery only to help them hide the truth of their conversation a moment later either. How his wife tolerated him was a complete mystery. Whatever the earl’s reason was, however, Tessie was more than grateful he’d changed the course of the conversation. She would die of mortification if Lord Berkswell thought she’d come here with designs to set her cap for him.
She took a steadying breath and allowed her gaze to lift slightly, taking in the marquess’s visage. He was handsome; her first impression was most definitely a correct one. His strong jaw spoke to the marquess’s rigidity that Miranda had often mentioned. He was most definitely of the serious variety, and that sort had always frightened Tessie to her core. There should be some room for levity in one’s life, shouldn’t there? Not as much levity as there was in Stalbridge’s life, without a care for anyone except himself, but some sort middle ground.
“It’s all routine, St. Austell. Just like clockwork.”
“I’ll have to take your word for that.” Then a true grin spread across the earl’s face. “Ah, there’s my darling wife.”
Tessie’s heart stung just a bit. Not that she begrudged the St. Austells their very happy marriage. But the memory of feeling that very same way once upon a time about Lord Stalbridge echoed in her empty chest. If only he’d been the man she thought he was. If only he’d cared for her as much as she’d cared for him. If only—
Lady St. Austell’s tinkling laugh interrupted Tessie’s thoughts. “Miss Birkin!” she said gleefully. “You must visit Wellesbourne more regularly. I’ve never seen Aunt Eugenia so animated as she is with your uncle.”
After just learning what Miranda and the countess had tilted their heads together and conspired for this holiday, Tessie doubted very much that Uncle Martin’s budding friendship with the ancient Miss Mills was the reason behind the lady’s suggestion. “I’d hate to impose more than we have already, Lady St. Austell—”
“Oh, Pippa, please!” the countess insisted. “There’re so few of us here. There’s no reason to stand on ceremony, now is there?”
“I say!” Lord Harrison boomed from the threshold. “Isn’t it time for supper? Why hasn’t the chime been rung?”
Lord Berkswell tugged at his watch fob and said, “Dinner’s not for another fifteen minutes, Harry.”
“Well, I am starving now,” his brother complained.
The marq
uess seemed to bite back a smile of genuine affection. “I’m certain you’ll survive.”
“Harry,” Lady St…er…Pippa began, “have you noticed how chummy Mr. Pratt is with Aunt Eugenia? I was just suggesting to Miss Birkin that she and her uncle visit on a fairly regular basis. I’ve never seen Aunt quite so happy, and...”
“And Miss Birkin said she didn’t wish to impose.” Lord Berkswell’s sudden, clipped tone quieted the room in an instant. “Perhaps you should take her at her word, Pippa.” The marquess narrowed his brown eyes on his sister, and they didn’t seem as warm as they had just moments ago.
Once again, Tessie wished she could just disappear. It was quite obvious Lord Berkswell didn’t want her here. After all, the man had figured out what Miranda and Pippa were up to. Lord St. Austell had said as much. If Uncle Martin wasn’t enjoying himself as much as he was, she’d beg him to take her home and try to forget she’d ever crossed the threshold of Wellesborne Park.
Berks hated that every pair of eyes on the room seemed to land squarely on him. Well, other than Miss Birkin’s. She had the good graces to let her blue-green gaze drop to the floor. But why everyone else should look at him as though he were some sort of ogre was beyond the pale. He hadn’t invited the chit or her uncle to Wellesbourne, and he wasn’t keen on hosting the pair ever again.
“For God’s sakes, Berks,” Harry muttered under his breath.
And then, the worst possible thing that could have happened did. Tears streamed down Miranda’s olive cheeks, and then she burst into loud sobs.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Harry soothed, rubbing his hands over Miranda’s shoulders.
“Wh-why does he have to be so me-me-mean?” she heaved, making Berks feel like a complete cad and quite vulnerable all of a sudden.
However, seeing his normally self-assured sister-in-law dissolve into a puddle of tears struck a bit of terror in Berks’s heart too. Women were such emotional creatures. How were you ever to know when one would take up a fire iron and beat you to death?
“I’m sure he doesn’t mean to be,” Harry growled, his green eyes nearly searing a hole right though Berks.
But Miranda paid him no attention as she lifted her skirts and bolted from the room… Well, honestly, she waddled rather quickly.
“Miranda!” Harry called. Then he cast Berks one final glare before following after his wife.
“Really, Berks,” Pippa softly admonished. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but do try to have a care.” Then she too quit the drawing room, most likely to search after their weepy sister-in-law as well.
The smug expression on St. Austell’s face was enough to make Berks want to send his fist right through the man’s skull. “I suppose that’s my cue to go help soothe the poor girl and join the chorus of voices, wherever they are, in calling you all sorts of unflattering names.”
Berks simply glared at his insufferable brother-in-law. He’d never particularly cared for the man, and even less-so today.
The arrogant earl winked at Miss Birkin just before he too made a quick exit of the room. What the devil was that wink about? Had the blackguard taken up with the tart, right under Pippa’s nose? Was that it? An angry warmth started to swell in his chest.
“I—uh— Well, I’m sorry to have intruded upon your holiday, Lord Berkswell,” Miss Birkin said softly.
“Why did he just wink at you?” He narrowed his eyes on the fallen girl.
“I—I,” she stuttered. “Well, I’m sure I don’t know.”
“If you’ve taken up with him—”
She gasped before he could say more, her delicate hand fluttered to her pink lips. “I beg your pardon?”
She was going to play coy, was she? “We both know what sort of woman you are, Miss Birkin. But for some reason, my sister loves that blackguard and—”
“I would never do such a thing,” she said vehemently. A blush stained her pretty face. And she did have a pretty face. A pert little nose, lovely sea-colored eyes, set in a heart-shaped face, surrounded by bouncy, flaxen curls. She looked like an angel, honestly. She didn’t even look like the fallen variety.
He almost believed her protestation. Almost. But any girl who would take up with the Marquess of Stalbridge…
She heaved a steadying breath, started for the doorway and said over her shoulder, “I’ll find my uncle and we’ll leave Wellesbourne just as soon as we can gather our things.”
Damn it all! Panic seized Berks’s heart. He must have misjudged the situation. Though he’d rather not have Miss Birkin or her uncle under his roof, Harry and Pippa were already put out with him. If Miss Birkin left because of what he’d said, there was no telling how his siblings would react.
Berks dashed in front of the girl, blocking her exit. “Don’t. I’m… Well, I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? For what?” She tipped her head back and her sea-colored eyes locked with his, as though she could peer straight into his soul. “Suggesting that I would carry on an affair with Lord St. Austell, or for you acknowledging what sort of woman you think I am?”
He really wasn’t sure what he was sorry for, whichever one wouldn’t send her fleeing into the frigid night. “For, um, insulting you.”
“It’s clear you’re not happy that my uncle and I have come. I think it’s best if we return home and leave you to your family.”
Damn it. Did she want him to beg? “My family, it seems, is all very happy that you’re here, Miss Birkin. Please don’t destroy their holiday because I was less than gentlemanly.”
Her brow furrowed just as bit, as though she was seriously contemplating his words.
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” he promised. “Just don’t leave.”
She sighed, looking a bit world weary, making Berks truly feel sorry for what he’d said. It had been inexcusable. She had every right to tell him to go hang.
“You won’t make Miranda cry anymore?” she asked quietly.
Berks snorted. “I’m not sure how I made her cry the last time.”
A strangled laugh escaped Miss Birkin and she shook her head. “You don’t have a clue how to talk to women, do you?”
He bristled slightly, not that her words mattered. He didn’t need to know how to talk to women. He wasn’t ever getting leg-shackled to one, so what was the point? “Are you going to stay or not, Miss Birkin?”
“For now.” She smiled softly, making her look, once again, like the sweetest of angels. “But I’ll try to stay out of your way, my lord.” And then with that, she stepped around Berks, leaving him alone in the drawing room with just the faintest scent of gardenias hanging in the air.
For the briefest of seconds, he wasn’t certain he wanted her to stay out of his way at all. There was something about her angelic face. But the thought was fleeting. He most certainly did not want to give a second thought to Theresa Birkin. Women were to be avoided, from Lady Arrington right on down the list. Just a few moments in the weepy Miranda’s company was enough to reinforce that thought.
We both know what sort of woman you are, Miss Birkin. Tessie barely tasted the turtle soup on her spoon. She barely heard Lord Harrison’s attempt at conversation to her right. She couldn’t get those awful words out of her mind, no matter how she tried.
We both know what sort of woman you are, Miss Birkin. So much for Miranda’s insistence that no one knew about Tessie’s fall from grace. Lord Berkswell most assuredly knew the truth. There wasn’t anything else he could have meant by such a statement.
We both know what sort of woman you are, Miss Birkin. Her soul hurt. She knew, of course, that her foolish choices of her youth would stain her existence. But hearing those words from such a highly respected man, with that condescending tone… Well, she hadn’t expected the pain to hurt quite so much.
She felt his glare on her from the head of the table, but she couldn’t make herself look in his direction. She couldn’t meet his eyes again, not after his words, not after he’d figured out why Miranda and Pippa had invi
ted her to Wellesbourne.
She’d keep her word, however. She’d stay in Warwickshire through the holidays and she would try her best to avoid Lord Berkswell at all costs.
As soon as the women left the men to their port, Tessie made her excuses to Miranda, Pippa, and the Casemores’ great aunt Eugenia. Then she escaped into the safety of her bedchamber and sank in a slump onto her four-poster. It was just a fortnight. She could do anything for a fortnight.
A knock sounded at her door and Tessie closed her eyes. Couldn’t she just be left in peace? “I’m not feeling well.”
But the door cracked open anyway and Miranda’s head poked inside. “You were feeling perfectly fine earlier.”
She had been. “Yes, before I discovered why you’d really brought me here.”
Miranda frowned, but pushed the door wider and then stepped over the threshold. “It’s not what you think.”
“It’s not?” Tessie sat up straight on her bed. “You and Pippa didn’t bring me here to match me up with her unfriendly brother? Did I misunderstand Lord St. Austell completely, then?”
Miranda closed the door behind her, then crossed the room. “He’s not as bad as all that.”
“He had you in tears.”
“An unsatisfying breakfast has me in tears.” She leaned against one of the bedposts. “I admit, Pippa and I thought we’d see if the two of you could make a match of it; but that’s not the real reason I invited you here.”
Tessie lifted her brow.
“You are my dearest friend. Just because I’m married, I don’t want that to change. I want you to always be part of my life, and that includes holidays.”
“I’ll always be a part of your life.”
Miranda’s hazel eyes lit with mischief. “But if you were my sister…”
Tessie shook her head. “I wouldn’t hold my breath, if I were you. I hardly think the two of us would suit.” Especially since he knew about her unfortunate circumstances, but she didn’t want to say as much to Miranda. There was nothing to be done about the situation and talking about it only reopened wounds Tessie would just as soon let heal. Not that such a thing was possible, but there was no reason to make them worse.