The Social Tutor

by Sally Britton

  But the whole of the room faced towards the upper balcony, where the musicians had stopped their playing in the middle of the waltz.

  The tall, fair-haired earl stood there, calling for attention by tapping a crystal glass.

  “Honored guests, please forgive me for interrupting your evening,” he said, deep voice carrying across the room.

  Thomas took Christine’s hand in his, his grasp warm and gentle. “And our waltz,” he muttered, glancing around them, as though looking for someone.

  “What is it, Thomas?” she asked, stepping closer so their arms were flush against each other, the cloth of his jacket against her bare forearm.

  Before he could answer, Lord Calvert continued. “I had to take the opportunity to make an announcement. The families involved will excuse my behavior, as I have received permission from the bridegroom.”

  Christine watched as Thomas’s eyes snapped forward, intent now upon the earl, and his look changed to one of supreme shock.

  “He wouldn’t,” Thomas muttered, his body tensing.

  “I would like to take the opportunity, on this wonderful evening surrounded by many of our neighbors, to announce the engagement of Mr. Thomas Gilbert and Miss Christine Devon, both excellent friends of mine. Let us wish the happy couple joy.” He raised his glass and others in the room did the same, while still more people began to politely clap and exclaim over the announcement, however unorthodox.

  Christine turned her eyes to Thomas to find him staring down at her, his confusion swiftly melting into an amused smile.

  “Your father will not like this at all,” he whispered.

  She shook her head and looked back up to the earl, who had somehow managed to extract himself from the balcony and now hurried in their direction, the crowd parting for him, as he presumably came to wish them well.

  “He’s ruined us both, I think,” she muttered, threading her arm through Thomas’s. “This is madness. Father will—”

  A hand clasped her shoulder firmly and pulled her away from Thomas, turning her around, and she looked up into her father’s eyes, finding in them more heat and fury than she had ever seen there before.

  “How dare you?” he hissed at her, unheard as the people around them continued to clap and murmur among themselves, completely unaware of the true nature of the announced engagement.

  “Ah, Mr. Devon,” the earl said, and Christine realized he had reached them too. He raised his voice enough for it to carry, causing people nearby to hush and turn interested faces to what must be looking like quite the spectacle. Thomas’s hand reached for her wrist, her father held her arm in a tight grasp, and Lord Calvert stood over them all, unsmiling but somehow still chipper.

  “Thank you, sir, for giving in to my whim to announce the betrothal of your daughter and my most excellent friend, Mr. Gilbert.” He reached out to lay a hand on Thomas’s shoulder and offered his free hand to Devon. “I am especially gratified that such fine families will soon join forces on the Gilbert horse farm, as I have invested heavily in its future and I could not trust it to two people less capable than these.”

  With all her years of studying him, Christine understood her father’s thoughts almost exactly. He did not know what to do, accosted in public by a man of high rank, his plans for her destroyed. Yet here Lord Calvert presented as good a connection as any her father could wish. Christine watched as the angry light in his eyes warred with his shrewder nature. He looked away from the earl and into the tableaux of the crowd, people he did business with, people of rank, those he would want to think highly of him.

  Christine had heard many a nursery tale about good kings or kind fairies whisking into a tale to save someone from danger, or bless them with great gifts, but she could hardly believe that a country nobleman now did the same for her.

  At last, her father released her arm, looking about to see all eyes upon him, and a very painful looking smile appeared on his reddened face. “Not at all, Lord Calvert. You do us great honor.”

  “Now, we ought to let everyone get back to the dance. I believe it was a waltz. Musicians? Please, begin again.” Lord Calvert waved in the direction of the balcony where instruments began to play again, not entirely in harmony for several notes, but Thomas moved quickly to pull Christine back onto the floor.

  “I am not certain what just happened,” he said when he had put several couples between themselves and her father, who she saw was now in deep conversation with the earl. Lord Calvert caught her eye and winked. “I think we are now engaged to be married.”

  Christine’s heart fluttered and she turned to meet his eyes, when she realized she’d yet to tell him the truth of her feelings. He must know, but Christine wanted to say the words aloud, at last.

  “I love you too, Thomas.”

  A broad, triumphant grin no member of polite society would ever wear appeared on his face.

  Thomas pulled her completely off the dance floor, between people in the crowd, ignoring words of congratulations lobbed at them as they went. She followed, realizing they were hurrying to the doors of the balcony, left barely ajar to allow cool air to circulate in the warm ballroom.

  In full view of anyone who might be watching, which likely included half the room, Thomas pulled her outside the doors and then around an obliging column.

  “I think we ought to discuss your final lesson, Christine.” He tucked them out of the breeze, his back to the night air and her gloved hands in both of his.

  She stepped closer, lifting her face to his. Snowflakes were falling, brightening the night and adding to the magic of the moment. “Really? Now?” She felt certain this was not the time for any such conversation.

  He nodded solemnly and twined his arm about her waist. “It is the most important lesson of all.” His arms about her kept the cold away, but she came closer still. “You are to forget absolutely everything we ever discussed about how to behave in polite society, how to converse, catch a husband, and flirt. You are to just be who you are, because that is why I love you.” Thomas’s eyes, glittering down at her through the shadows, searched her face, taking her all in, before settling on her lips.

  “Even if I distress the vicar at supper?” she asked softly, her breath coming in small gasps, having nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with Thomas.

  He laughed and bent closer, his breath soft upon her cheek. “Especially then.”

  His head tilted, and he slanted his lips across hers in a tender, gentle kiss, sealing his words and his love upon her. Though his arms remained wrapped about her, Christine knew they floated above the ground, and she had no intention of ever coming down again.

  ∞∞∞

  Of course, they could not stay on the balcony forever. Thomas did not keep her out there long at all. Despite the warmth their kiss gave rise to, a Christmas snow was falling and Christine did not have a coat. He brought them back inside, her arm through his and her body tucked close, and they found the door guarded by Miss Devon and his elder sister, Martha. The two looked for all the world like co-conspirators of a great crime, and highly pleased with themselves besides.

  “If anyone asks,” Martha whispered, “we were watching you the entire time.”

  Thomas saw Christine’s cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink. “You were?” she squeaked.

  Miss Devon shook her head, a mischievous smile appearing on her face. “No, but I can well imagine what went on.” She shared a smile with Martha before continuing. “Lord Calvert and Father have disappeared, everyone is excited for you both, and I think you had better stay with the Brodys until the wedding.”

  Thomas gave his sister a grateful smile when she nodded. “Thank you.”

  “That will not be necessary,” Christine said firmly, her hand squeezing his arm. “My father will allow the match now. It would be a scandal for him to contradict the Earl of Annesbury, and then lose that tenuous new opportunity and connection. He may try to make things unpleasant for me at home, but I will bear up, and I will not
leave my sisters to get through it alone.”

  Thomas could not have been prouder of the wonderful, intelligent, and strong woman Christine truly was. What did society know of correct behavior and courtship? Christine won him by being herself, with her frank words and kind heart.

  His father and mother were making their way along the wall, his mother beaming at them both, hardly turning to thank people who tried to stop her with their good wishes. Indeed, he saw the Markhams with their Littleton cousins approaching as well.

  “You have had your moment alone, dear brother,” his elder sister said with a smirk. “Now you must spend the rest of the evening collecting kind words and dancing with all the wallflowers.”

  He laughed and looked down into Christine’s upturned face, her beauty washing over him again. “I will brave my way through it, if Christine will agree to marry me as soon as the banns are read the third time.”

  “And not a moment later,” she agreed.

  “I am sorry you will not have your season.” He hoped that would not disappoint her later, though he could not say he minded.

  She lifted one shoulder in a shrug, her eyes sparkling with joy. “Tom, I would rather have you than anything else in the world.”

  Only the strictest adherence to the ideals of society kept him from whisking her up in his arms to deliver another kiss, though she looked as though she would have welcomed it.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  January 14, 1812

  Christine waited for Thomas to dismount at their stream, giving him the opportunity to help her from the saddle. Though entirely proficient in maneuvering off the animal herself, she relished the feeling of her husband’s hands upon her waist and his strong arms guiding her down. His thoughtfulness of her comfort and happiness awed her. Being cherished and loved by him was more than she had ever dreamed of in a husband.

  Their marriage was yet new, only two days old, but she felt more herself than ever before. Thomas married her in the little church where their families had always attended, sitting on opposite sides and ends of the chapel; now they would sit in the Gilbert pew for the rest of her days.

  “I will forever be grateful we both enjoy early morning excursions,” she said, turning from him to look over their little brook, edges now frosted over in ice. “What if we would not have met here that morning?”

  His arm slid around her waist and he looked across the water to what he had always referred to as her side of the clearing. “I do not care to think on it. Providence gave us the opportunity, and that is all that matters.”

  Christine nodded in agreement and looked back up at him. “I agree, with my whole heart.”

  He bent and kissed her cheek. “This will forever be our special place, Christine. We will come here as often as you like, especially in the spring.”

  “For picnics,” she added. “That would be wonderful.” She leaned her cheek against his chest and took in a deep, slow breath, allowing the wintry air to fill her lungs.

  “We cannot linger today, however,” he reminded her softly. “We must be on our way to London soon.”

  “Of course,” she said, her heart not entirely in the agreement. “Although I would much rather stay at home with you.”

  Thomas laughed and pulled her into an embrace. “My beautiful wife, all you’ve ever dreamed of is having a season in London. I cannot give you that, but we can go for a short visit. I promise, we will not spend the entire time on business.”

  The Earl of Annesbury, after soothing her father’s disappointments, had swiftly dispatched letters to others he thought would wish to hear of Thomas’s plans. His efforts gave Thomas and Christine introductions to several of his business associates who were interested to invest in a new stable, or else in procuring a foal from the promising bloodlines. It seemed Lord Calvert had a greater interest in their success than Thomas had ever anticipated.

  Though the earl had done a great deal for them, Thomas would also be working to finalize the leasing of his family’s townhouse. He was determined to do all he could to provide financial stability to his family, and the income of a lease would go a long way towards that, without having to give up the house entirely.

  “I find I don’t care overly much about the London season,” she reminded him primly. “I care about you, and our families, and our horses.” Moving her animals to his property, permanently, had been an exciting day for them both. Her entire dowry, though by no means a fortune, would soon pay for an expansion of their stables and outbuildings. Though her father had been loath to release the funds, he did so to keep up the appearance that the marriage was one he supported.

  In reality, the last several weeks in his home had been difficult for Christine and her sisters. No sooner had the wedding breakfast been eaten than her sisters were whisked away, to remove them from her rebellious influence, and teach them all a lesson.

  Julia had been sent to help their cousin in Bath, whose husband was very ill. Their father expected her to be treated little better than a nursemaid, minding children and the sick, but Julia and Christine both expected a better situation to be waiting for her.

  It was Rebecca that Christine truly worried after. At only sixteen, she had very little experience in the wide world. She had returned to London with Aunt Jacqueline, to begin being groomed for her eventual season. Christine’s father had decided that his youngest daughter would do his bidding and their aunt, his sister, would ensure strict and complete obedience.

  At least they had all been able to enjoy the wedding together. Even Horace came to visit, though he hated being home during the winter holidays. He preferred the company of his friends to a house full of sisters. Christine could not say she blamed him, especially since she believed he also did all he could to avoid the strictures of their father.

  “I love you, Christine.” Thomas’s words brought her back to the present. “Or should we remain formal, Mrs. Gilbert?”

  She laughed softly. “I love you, Tom. Call me whatever you wish.”

  “Mm. I understand Chrissy is a favorite.”

  Thomas kissed her cheek again, then his lips trailed down further, to her jaw. She pulled in a sharp breath, still amazed by what his kisses could do to her insides. She turned to him and lifted her lips to his, fully in his embrace, and he deepened their kiss most satisfactorily.

  In the circle of his arms, Christine knew all would be well, given time, patience, and hope.

  And an abundance of love.

  End Notes

  Enjoy this novel? Want to know what happened to Julia Devon’s lost love? Click here to grab your copy of The Gentleman Physician.

  For a sneak-peek at the next novel in the series, and to learn Julia’s fate, turn the page.

  If you enjoyed this novel, please leave a review. It’s the kindest thing you can do for any author, apart from telling all your friends to read it too.

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  Sneak Peek: Julia’s Physician

  NOTE: This is a work in progress and as such the material in this peek is subject to change.

  Nathaniel Hastings bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing while his patient, Lady Huntington, continued to spout nonsense about the reasons behind her various ailments. He knew very well nothing troubled her that a good conversation could not cure.

  “You are not at all sympathetic enough to be a doctor,” the septuagenarian accused, wagging a bejeweled finger at him. “Look at you. As I give you a list of my rheumatisms and poor spirits, you are laughing at me.” Though her words were said with affront, her old gray eyes sparkled with mirth. “What is to become of us when young doctors like you sit and chuckle at their patients? Hardly a way to
run a medical practice, if you ask me.”

  “I beg your pardon, my lady.” He stopped trying to hide his smile. “I find it hard to believe that your aches are so dreadful when I have it on very good authority you spent last evening at a ball, dancing nearly as often as that granddaughter of yours. Rumor also has it that you turned many a head with your new turban.”

  Her eyes glittered playfully. She leaned forward, the scent of lavender and face powder wafting toward him as she moved, to give his hand a grandmotherly pat where it rested on the arm of the chair.

  “It is not a rumor at all, dear boy. And I will show you the magnificent headpiece.” She signaled her maid who disappeared briefly and returned carrying a very tall, very bright yellow turban of silk, bedecked with green and blue feathers.

  “You see,” the old woman said triumphantly, taking in his surprised expression with glee. “Positively everyone noticed and commented upon it. They cannot decide if I am senile or too out of the world to even care about fashion. Bah.” She took the hideous thing and put it on her head, the maid fluttering about to help adjust it.

  Nathaniel covered his mouth with his fist, overcome with amusement and horror in equal parts. “Is that a stuffed bird at the top?”

  “Indeed, it is.” The dowager affected a dramatic pose, lifting her aristocratic nose in the air. “I can tell you are absolutely agog, as were all at the assembly last evening.” But when she twisted her neck to allow her profile to show, she winced and raised a hand to the back of her head.

  He shook his head. “I can see. I also think, my lady, that I will leave you with a tincture after all. Such a glorious head piece likely caused you some strain due to its weight. I doubt the whole turban is as light as the feathers festooned upon it?”

  “It is a taxing load,” she consented, waving for her maid to remove the silk and feathered monstrosity. “What do you recommend I take to cure my suffering?”

  He gave her instructions for herbal tea to ease her headache and relax her muscles, advised she rest and not wear the turban for a few days at least, and then took his leave of her. Lady Huntington always saw to it that his visits were well compensated, though he never asked a thing from her. That was the way with the wealthy. They would never stoop to paying a doctor but would give him gifts instead.