Love Birds: The Complete Collection

by Ruth J. Hartman

  “Good.” Her fright lessened a little, but her heart still crashed against her ribs. It all seemed too much, too quickly.

  “Some things in general you need to know. All gentlemen and ladies carry calling cards and leave them when they make a call. The butler will collect them on a tray and take them to the person of interest.”

  “What if the person is not at home?”

  “Then they will find the card when they come back and are obliged to return the visit as soon as they can.”

  “I can’t imagine anyone calling on me, though.” She fingered the hem of her sleeve, the lace rasping softly against her fingernail.

  “Remember what I said the day of the dress fitting. I have no doubt you’ll have callers, Cecilia.”

  Nervous flutters, like those of an agitated butterfly, danced about in her stomach. “I’m so anxious about all of this. Every bit of it is new to me.”

  “You’ll be fine. I promise. That brings up something else, though. If you are asked to dance, you must accept.” Amelia’s finger tapped the arm of the settee, punctuating the final three words.

  “I wouldn’t mind dancing with someone handsome and dashing.” Cecilia reached up and wrapped a dangling tendril of hair around her finger. Would he be tall? Dark-headed? Or stocky and fair? A deep voice and infectious laugh?

  “True, but it may be someone else.”

  Cecilia snapped out of her daydream. “Who else would ask?”

  “Any number of eligible men.”

  “What if I don’t want to dance with them?” A shiver ran through her. What if it was someone like that awful Horace? Or a man even worse than him? Slimy, disgusting. With putrid breath and—

  “If you refuse a dance with one gentleman, you must not dance with anyone.”

  “That doesn’t sound fair.” Cecilia tapped her boot on the floor in irritation. Why couldn’t she simply choose who she wished to accept an invitation to dance from and give a polite no thank you to the rest?

  “But it’s the rule.”

  Cecilia grimaced. “I’m not sure I like it.”

  Amelia gave a nod. “I know. I don’t always like the rules, either. They’re often inconvenient and vexing.”

  “Must we abide by them?” Perhaps there was a way to circumvent them. Cecilia had had enough rules from Mama to last a lifetime.

  “If we want to be accepted into polite society, yes.”

  “Is that so very important?”

  “If you desire to meet and marry someone of a higher station,” Amelia tilted her head to the side, “then yes, I’m afraid it is.”

  Some things, it seemed, would be worth the sacrifice. At least Cecilia hoped so. “Then that’s what I must do.”

  “Good girl.” Amelia patted her hand.

  “Is there anything else?” She pressed her lips together, suppressing the yawn that longed to escape. There was so much to learn. It was tiring!

  Amelia shook her head slowly side to side, causing long wisps of red hair at her neck to sway ever so slightly.“Oh, my sweet sister, there is so much to teach you.”

  “I don’t have that much time before the dance. What shall I do?” A sudden image of herself being laughed out of the ballroom because she’d done or said something improper flashed through her mind. How awful it would be if she lost her only chance to meet a nice gentleman. And she’d hate to let Conrad and Amelia down, after everything they were doing on her behalf.

  “You won’t need to know everything right now, so we’ll just cover the most important ones. Always remember that you must not dance any more than two consecutive dances with the same gentleman. Because if you do, it’s as good as announcing an impending engagement.

  Cecilia bit her lip. “Good heavens! To find oneself tied to a man simply because of an extra dance?”

  Amelia raised one eyebrow. “Indeed… Oh, and when at the dance and supper is announced, a gentleman must accompany whichever lady he danced with last.”

  “Oh. What if it’s someone I don’t like?” Sitting next to someone of whom she found distasteful would surely cause her stomach to revolt against any food she’d tried to eat.

  “Then I’m afraid you’d have no choice.”

  Cecilia’s gaze drifted to the rays of weak sunshine admirably trying to break through the lace of the buttery yellow curtains to brighten the gloom in the parlor. “Another rule?”

  “I’m afraid so. Oh, and if you’re at a party, after supper the ladies must withdraw from the room to give gentlemen some time.”

  Cecilia edged forward on her seat, the fabric of her dress bunching a little beneath her knees. “To do what?”

  “Smoke. Tell bawdy stories, I imagine. To be truthful, I’m not sure many women really know what goes on. And perhaps they wouldn’t want to know.” Amelia’s laugh was musical, like the chimes of the case clock that stood in a far corner.

  “No, I suppose not.” Although until this moment, Cecilia had never given it a thought. It hadn’t been part of her world. No, since Papa’s accident, Cecilia’s world had revolved around helping to care for him. And doing Mama’s bidding, of course. “Then what happens?”

  “After the men have had their time away, very often tables will be set up for piquet or whist. Have you ever played?” Amelia’s eyes lit with excitement, looking every bit like a little girl ready for a new adventure. Surely the games must be favorites if her sister-in-law seemed that enthused about playing.

  “A little. Although, there wasn’t much time for games at home. And Mama thought they were silly, anyway.”

  One corner of Amelia’s mouth rose in a smile. “I’m of the opinion that sometimes in life we need some silliness. It lightens the mood. Takes our worries away, at least for a time.”

  “Papa never minded silliness. He used to play his fiddle and I would dance about the room. Not dancing like Conrad is teaching me. More like twirling about.” Cecilia’s favorite part had been watching the hem of her dress flair out from her boots in the shape of a bell.

  “And did you enjoy that?” Amelia’s voice had softened, as if she wished that it had brought Cecilia some joy.

  “Oh yes.” Cecilia let out a sigh. In truth, it had been the one thing she’d looked forward to the most. Music spoke to her heart, her soul. Made her feel as if she could fly above the clouds, joining the birds who hovered weightless in the air. Or to have adventures in foreign lands, meeting new and interesting people. Do anything at all that her mind could conjure up. A sudden vision of Papa as he was now, brought her crashing back to the present. “But of course, Papa had to give up his fiddle when…” Cecilia lifted her hand, not able to give voice to the thought.

  “His hand. How dreadful that must have been for him.”

  “Yes. It was. And still is, I’m afraid. That’s why he’s so grateful that Conrad was generous to us with employment and a place to live.” Cecilia glanced around the parlor, taking in the fresh yellow and pink flowers in crystal vases adorning the mantel and side tables. The soft fabric of the settee beneath her hand. The sight of a maid, her crisply-pressed dress swishing as she passed by the open doorway, her boots tapping quickly across the floor. “You’ve already done so much for us. I feel guilty about you helping me with a come-out.”

  “Never feel guilty about accepting something good that someone wants to do for you out of love.” Amelia’s smile was warm and comforting.

  “Thank you.”

  “What are sisters for?” Amelia leaned forward and took Cecilia’s hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

  Chapter Seven

  Two weeks had passed before Barrington was able to collect the horse he’d purchased from Lord Lofton. The stall where he’d planned to put the animal was discovered to have some rotting boards and had to be repaired. As Barrington leaned back against the seat of the carriage, he glanced out the window.

  With too much time on his hands, thoughts of Martha tormented him. He’d dearly hoped not to have had to wait to retrieve the horse, but there wa
s nothing for it. Thankfully, he was now on his way.

  Trying to occupy his mind with other things, he had challenged Percy to various games of cards every day. With his mind not on the games, though, Barrington had lost a modest sum when Percy continually bested him. Cards with a mad uncle, it seemed, had not been the answer.

  Percy, of course, had been ecstatic.

  Today was the day. The stall was restored to good order, cleaned, and replenished with straw and food. Lofton had said he could have the horse delivered to Barrington’s estate, but Barrington wanted to be there while they readied the animal.

  What does it say about the state of my life when I’m this excited about acquiring a new horse?

  As crazy as Percy was, maybe his advice had some merit. Time to seek out a new love interest perhaps? One problem with that notion was that Barrington already knew all of the eligible women around the area. And none held his interest. Martha was the only one who—

  No. She’d made it abundantly clear that she was interested in another man. If Barrington knew what was good for him, he’d find someone else, too. What was is that Percy had said? Something about giving a new person a chance, as they might not be someone you would think about and might be overlooked.

  But where in the world was he supposed to meet this person? The women of his acquaintance were spoken for or not to his liking. Other women, ones who spent time in the seedier parts of town weren’t ones he wished to know. Ever.

  So whom did that leave? The local baker’s daughter? The girl who winked at him when he passed by her father’s apothecary shop in his carriage? No. They would never do. Someone of his status needed a proper lady. A woman of substance.

  But what of love? What if Barrington were to meet someone, a wonderful, sweet woman who wasn’t on his level? Would that matter? It certainly would to society, to the ton.

  He heaved a heavy sigh. Oftentimes life’s rules were tiresome.

  Barrington had the driver pull around back to the stables. The man he’d met before, Mr. Fletcher, told him to check the house for Lord Lofton. After thanking Fletcher, Barrington walked back around to the front. He’d no more than raised his hand to the door when a butler opened it.

  “Good day. How may I help you, sir?”

  Barrington smiled. “I’m here to obtain my horse from Lord Lofton. I was told by your steward that I might find him here.”

  The door opened wider. “Please come in.”

  Barrington removed his hat but politely waved the butler away when he offered to take it. As the other man’s steps took him near the back of the house, a sound caught Barrington’s attention. Giggling?

  Two women stepped from a room down the hall and were deep in conversation before they noticed him. They stopped. The taller woman, Lady Lofton he was sure, smiled and nodded her head. Before the butler had a chance to return and announce Barrington, she said, “Good day. Are you here to pay a call on Lord Lofton?”

  “Yes. I am Mr. Radcliff.”

  “I’ll tell him you’re here.”

  “Thank you.” It seemed strange that she would go herself. Why wouldn’t she send a maid or the butler?

  She stepped away, but the second woman stayed as if rooted to the spot. Why hadn’t Lady Lofton introduced him to the other woman? She wore a simple day dress, but it appeared to be new, as did her boots. Her blond hair was pulled back except for a light fringe left loose around her face. But it was her eyes that held him captive. Blue, no… light blue, resembling ice forming at the edge of the ocean cliffs on a January day. Eyes so clear a man might lose himself in them.

  The woman blinked, breaking the hold on Barrington.

  He’d been staring. How gauche. “Please, miss, forgive me. I had no intention of being rude.”

  Her smile, tentative at first, but blossoming like a pink rose in summer, coaxed her full lips into a curve, producing delightful dimples in their wake. “Nothing to forgive. If you’ll excuse me.” She turned away.

  “Wait.” How rude of him to not even wait for a proper introduction. He’d never done that before in his entire life.

  “Yes?”

  “I…” Say something, you cork-brained idiot. If he voiced his true thought, he’d frighten her away. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the good fortune to observe. “You resemble someone I’ve seen before.”

  She took a step back. “Is that so?”

  “Yes.”

  “And who might that be, Mr. Radcliff?” Her gaze dropped to her hands that were clasped in front of her.

  “I… don’t know.” That sounded absurd, yet something niggled at the back of his memory. A woman of whom he’d only had a glimpse crossed his mind. Where had he noticed her?

  “I… I really must be going.”

  “Please.” He held out his hand, but didn’t touch her, instead dropping his arm to his side. “May I ask your name?” His heart hammered in his chest. All it would take for him to lose face would be for the woman in front of him to tell others of his rude behavior. Somehow though, he wanted, needed to know as if his very breath depended on it.

  “You may.” She lifted her chin and peered directly at him.

  He opened his mouth and closed it again. She’d given her permission but not actually stated her name. Her eyes were crinkled at the corners. She was having sport with him. A grin lifted the sides of his mouth. “And what, might I ask, is your name, fair lady?”

  Her cheeks darkened to pink. “I am Miss… Fl-Fleming.”

  “Miss Fleming. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.” This is madness! Introducing myself to a perfect stranger?

  She took a step back. “I’m afraid I must be going.”

  He lessened the space between them. “No, please. Stay and talk to me until Lord Lofton returns.” Such boldness!

  “Did I hear my name?”

  Barrington glanced up at the speaker. Blast! Now Miss Fleming will have no reason to keep me company.

  Lord Lofton descended the stairs just as Lady Lofton came around the side of the staircase from down the hall. Her face brightened. “There you are. I was looking for you.”

  “Why didn’t you send the maid?” Lofton reached the bottom of the stairs and took another step toward his wife. He brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. Tenderly. Lovingly.

  “I wanted to find you all on my own.”

  “And I wasn’t even hiding.”

  She laughed and playfully hit his shoulder.

  What must it be like to have a marriage where one could be so at ease that he could tease his spouse, especially in front of others? In front of someone he barely knew?

  Lord Lofton put his arm around her waist. He lifted his mouth in a smile and faced Barrington. “I see you’ve met my wife and cousin.”

  “I’m afraid not officially. Good day, Lady Lofton. Miss Fleming.”

  Lady Lofton jumped at his words but then touched Miss Fleming’s shoulder. “We’re so delighted to have her staying with us. At least for a while.”

  “Oh? How pleasant.” He longed to inquire as to exactly how long, but it was none of his concern. He’d already broken several rules of etiquette in the last few minutes. But why had his simple salutation to Miss Fleming and Lady Lofton caused the latter’s reaction?

  “Yes, it is. And quite a long while, I hope.”

  “How wonderful.”

  Lady Lofton blushed. “Mr. Radcliff, forgive me for neglecting to introduce Miss… Fleming.” She moved closer to her husband. Had she been so intent upon finding him that she had actually forgotten to perform the introduction?

  Barrington smiled. “Please, don’t give it another thought.” Wanting to change the subject so Lady Lofton wouldn’t be embarrassed, he instead addressed Lord Lofton. “Say, when I met your steward the other day, I couldn’t quite place him but knew I had made his acquaintance before. He wouldn’t happen to be the same Mr. Fletcher as the surgeon-dentist, would he?”

  As soon as the words had escaped through his lips, Bar
rington suddenly wished to retrieve them. Aware of how that must have sounded, he pressed his lips together. Hold your tongue, man. You’re not intimate enough with them to ask such a question. “Pardon me, I—”

  Lord Lofton raised a hand. “No need to apologize. He is indeed one and the same. I’m afraid an accident has left him unable to continue his former line of work.” He glanced to Miss Fleming and back again. “And he’s been very kind to assist me with my horses. He loves them, can’t seem to stay away from the stables. Considering his accident, I’m glad he finds them still to his liking.”

  What atrocity had the poor man suffered because of a horse? It could have been any number of things, he supposed, and none of them pleasant.

  Now that Barrington had taken a moment to glance from one cousin to the other, their striking resemblance had become obvious. Blond hair, light blue eyes, strong chin. Strange how families worked. They were only distantly related, yet appeared as if they could have been siblings. Barrington and Percy didn’t resemble each other in the least. Perhaps that’s a positive thing as he is two stone overweight and mostly bald.

  Lady Lofton tilted her head. “Mr. Radcliff, we were just about to have some tea. We’d be most pleased to have you join us.”

  And get to know Miss Fleming better? Yes that sounded like a wonderful idea. No need to appear too eager though. “That’s most kind of you. I’d hate to impose, as I came only to collect my new horse.”

  Miss Fleming put out a hand as if to touch his sleeve but quickly pulled it back. “Please stay.” Her words floated out on a whisper.

  Please stay. Two little words that warmed his heart. How sweet. How genuine. But why am I so enamored of someone I’ve just met? She might not be at all what she appears. I was so mistaken about Martha whom I’ve known for years.

  Percy’s earlier words floated through Barrington’s mind. “Give her a chance.” What had he to lose? “I’d be delighted.”

  He followed them to a large parlor. Lord Lofton seated Lady Lofton and then Miss Fleming. Barrington sat down on the settee with Miss Fleming, though he took care to leave ample space between them.

  The maid poured the tea and left. Lady Lofton blew across the top of her tea and took a sip. She smiled. “Tell us about yourself, Mr. Radcliff.” All three faces were focused on him, interest and anticipation showing in their eyes.