The Unwanted Suitor (Regency House Party: Somerstone Book 1)

by Michelle Pennington

  “I begin to understand,” Damen said, his eyes alight with humor.

  With her heart thundering, she knew she had to remain calm. “I don’t know what you mean. I have a headache so Lady Du’Breven wished me to retire.”

  “Hmm. Sir James seems rather concerned about your condition. Quite the feat for a poor companion to have secured the affections of such a matrimonial prize.”

  “I haven’t. Don’t be impertinent.” Cornelia saw Sir James take a few steps up the stairs and held up a hand to stop him. She motioned with her eyes for him to leave, and though he looked hesitant, he did so. None of this was lost on Damen.

  “You were saying, Miss Greystock?” Before Cornelia could protest, Damen smiled. “Don’t worry that I will hinder you in any way. In fact, you find me quite sympathetic.” On those words, Damen continued down the stairs.

  Cornelia looked after him for a moment then turned and fled to her room. She needed solitude and time to consider what had just happened.

  Did Sir James really mean to court her? Everything he did, his looks, the caress in his voice, all seemed to point to such an intention. But he couldn’t! Not here. She would be so despised by the other ladies who were eligible for such attentions, and by their chaperones. So few of them knew of her social status and her previous connection to Sir James’ family.

  But a gentleman should never kiss a lady without a offer of marriage.

  Why hadn’t he shown her such attention when he first proposed? Even as hurt as she’d been, she would have responded…eventually. How could she not have? Even when she had thought she was falling in love with his brother, it had taken no more than Sir James entering the room to make her heartbeat throb. Her eyes always followed him and she was ever aware of his presence. No amount of practical remonstrations with herself had ever cured her of it.

  Now that he was focusing such a determined courtship upon her, for she could call it nothing else, how was she to resist him? If it weren’t for her position, what people would think, she might be able to allow it.

  Her head spun with questions and conjecture. One thing was very clear. She must speak with Sir James, convince him to leave off pursuing her. For now. Until the house part was over. But her insides writhed at the awkwardness of such a discussion, because what if she was wrong?

  8

  Gingerbread Hopes

  Sir James had not been the least surprised when Cornelia palmed him off on Miss Easton again for the ride into town. He had been extremely curious to know how she would react the first time she saw him again after their kiss the evening before. Certainly, he had hoped for glowing eyes and a welcoming smile but had not expected it.

  As it turned out, he was quite right. When he had joined the party gathering in the pillared hall for a jaunt into the neighboring village, he’d found Cornelia organizing the groups into carriages. He had met her eyes then allowed them to shift to the spot in the corner where he had kissed her. Her cheeks had grown rosy, delighting him immensely, but she refused to look his way again.

  “Sir James,” she said, “If you would give Miss Easton your arm, you may join her in the first carriage.”

  Sir James smiled at Miss Easton and bowed. “It would be my pleasure.” But before he left, he asked in a teasing voice, “Are you joining us in the village, Miss Greystock?”

  “I will be following soon, as I have some errands for the Countess.”

  “Why don’t you ride with us? I’m sure Miss Easton wouldn’t mind letting you squeeze in between us.” The thought of riding into town with Cornelia pressed against his side flashed through his mind. It was too bad she would no doubt reject his suggestion.

  “I won’t make you uncomfortable,” Cornelia said, still not quite looking at him. “Damen will drive me to town in the gig. But thank you for your offer.”

  Thinking about the scene he’d witnessed between them the evening before, a dart of concern shot through him. He leaned closer and murmured. “Are you comfortable with that arrangement?”

  At last, she met his eyes, hers steady and reassuring. “Yes, Sir James. All is well.”

  He wanted to stay and ask more questions, but Miss Easton waited by the door, smiling at the two of them as if amused. He bowed and left her, though he hated to do so.

  He endured the drive to the village with equanimity. He never minded being in Miss Easton’s company, since she was a lively, easy-going girl. Not to mention, he knew her marriage aspirations were trained in another direction altogether, so there was no fear of her developing a tendré for him. Once they arrived in town, however, he was happy to part ways with her when she me her friend, Miss Anne.

  As he strolled down the narrow road, he found the pub, ordered a tankard of home-brewed, and waited outside for Cornelia to arrive in town. He watched with interest as the villagers went about their business and enjoyed the warmth of the sunshine on his head and the excellent refreshment. Really, he should visit the pub more often.

  He had just set his empty tankard down on the bench beside him when he saw Cornelia coming down the road in the gig with the footman. He smiled, bowing and doffing his hat as they passed by. He knew she saw him, though she did not acknowledge him as they drove past.

  Chuckling, Sir James followed lazily behind them. He had come to the village this morning for amusement’s sake only. Considering the way Cornelia was treating him, it looked as if it would be entertaining indeed.

  As Damen pulled the gig up at a stable a short way down the street and jumped down, Sir James was there before him to help Cornelia down. She hesitated a moment but gave in.

  “I suppose I should have known better than to expect you to leave me in peace this morning,” she said, bracing her hands on his shoulders.

  He put his hands around her waist and lowered her to the ground, careful that she didn’t land on the pile of horse manure nearby. “You should have indeed.”

  She huffed a little but made no further comment. “Damen, I will meet you here again at noon.”

  “Yes, miss. I will be ready.”

  Cornelia turned then and walked briskly down the road. Sir James smiled as he walked beside her, wondering how she would try to put him off.

  “I must go to the butcher,” she said.

  “Excellent. I admit, I have rarely been in a butcher’s shop but I suppose I will survive the experience unscathed. After all, loads of people do so.”

  “I also need to return books to the lending library and buy supplies for the still room at the chemist.”

  “Behold me still undaunted.”

  She stopped and turned to him then. “Sir James, you cannot follow me about all morning. What will people think?”

  “Probably that I take a great interest in you… perhaps even that I am courting you. And since they will be right, I see no reason for us to worry about it.”

  She sputtered a moment. “Courting me? But you can’t.”

  He wanted nothing more than to take her hand, or better yet, hold her in his arms. But he knew very well he could not do so on a public street. “What did you think I was about last night, Cornelia? A bit of fun? A selfish flirtation with dishonorable intentions?”

  “No, not that. Never that. But this is not a proper time or place for such things. My position as Lady Du’Breven’s companion makes it intolerable for me to accept the attentions of any gentleman. None of the guests know my family or connections. They would consider any interaction between us to mean I was a desperate, grasping sort of female.”

  He nodded, much struck by her words. “When it is I who am desperate and grasping.”

  “What do you mean?” But before he could answer, she looked around. “We are attracting attention standing in the road like this.”

  She turned from him and began walking again. In two quick strides, he had caught up to her. “Very well. No more for now, but we will continue this conversation before we return to Somerstone.”

  She did not respond as she entered a store with several bir
d carcasses hanging in its front window.

  For the rest of the afternoon, he followed in her wake, carrying her packages and offering his advice frequently though she never requested it. He found way too much amusement in suggesting she choose “The Tears of Amelia” at the book lender and cherry red ribbons for Lady Du’Breven’s mobcap. But when he suggested they stop at the bakery for gingerbread, she finally agreed to one of his suggestions instead of casting a fulminating glare his direction.

  With the still-warm gingerbread wrapped in paper, they stepped out of the bakery. “Let’s find somewhere to leave these packages so we can enjoy our treat,” he said.

  “I’m sure they will hold them for me at the stable where Damen left the gig. Let’s hurry. I’m famished,” Cornelia said, smiling at him for the first time.

  “I am not surprised. Working so hard to be angry at me when you really aren’t must be tiring.”

  She laughed then and the rich music of it flowing over him, making his pulse respond in a lively way.

  “I relent, Sir James. It is even more impossible to stay angry when you make me laugh.”

  It didn’t take long to return to the stables in such a small village. When they left their packages with the stablemaster, Cornelia wrote a note for Damen, telling him to start back to Somerstone and pick them up along the way.

  “That way we can take our walk along the road. It will be a tight fit in the gig for three, but we can make Damen ride in the back,” she said, flashing a smile as they left the stable.

  Sir James laughed and offered her his arm. When she took it, he placed his hand on top of hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I am not sure we should give Damen a reason to revenge himself upon us. Did he guess what we were about in the shadows last night?”

  “To be sure he did, but he assured me that he wished us well. And though I was terrified at having our names bandied about, I don’t think he will.”

  “Unless we make him ride in the back of the gig. But I for one would not mind if he told the world. If you were compromised you wouldn’t be able to deny me any longer. Hmmm… that is a good idea. I must ponder on it.”

  “No, Sir James! Really, you must not. I would be so mortified.”

  He flashed a smile down at her and offered her a piece of gingerbread. “Believe me, my dear, if I were to compromise you, the last thing you would feel is mortification.”

  He watched as her cheeks bloomed with color.

  “Do not tease me, Sir James. I determined last night that I must speak to you on this subject. It was, as you must understand, something that I hesitated to do since it would seem very forward of me.”

  “You find me all agog to hear what you have to say, Cornelia. Are you, perhaps, about to propose to me?”

  She gasped and looked up at him. “I am not. In fact, quite the opposite. My purpose in speaking to you is to ask you to cease your…pursuit of me. I cannot deny that I am unaware of your purpose—”

  “Yes. I hoped the attention I paid your very charming lips last night would suffice to accomplish that. Not to mention I already alluded to courting you today. You aren’t eating your gingerbread.”

  She scowled and took a small bite. “Yes, but it is still difficult to be frank on such a subject. However, I was determined that you should understand my position.”

  Sir James waited in amusement as she struggled to continue. “Believe me, dearest—I understand your position very well. It irks me greatly and I long to remove you from it.”

  “But the timing is all so impossible. Perhaps, after the house party is over.”

  He glanced down at her, surprised. “Will you be giving notice to the Countess then, and returning home?”

  “No. Perhaps. Oh, no I couldn’t. How could I leave the Countess in a lurch like that?”

  “And how can I court you if I am in Buxton and you are here?”

  He felt her fingers tremble in his hand then. “I am not even sure I wish you to court me, Sir James. I still do not understand why you should wish to do so, or why if you do, did you propose to me so horribly before.” Her tone grew louder as she spoke, more anxious—as if she were truly rattled now. “Not to mention, Sir James, that you disgraced me by sending your brother away to Bath and marrying him off to that heiress. The whole town knew that we were courting. I will never be able to hold my head up there again.”

  “I suppose marrying the wealthier, more respectable, and titled elder brother would go a long way towards remedying that.”

  She let go of his arm then and turned to face him like a vengeful goddess. “You will not propose to me on the road. And not while I am telling you most plainly not to pursue me any longer.”

  He grasped her shoulder and gave her a gentle shake. “Certainly not, Cornelia. I already told you that I would not propose to you until I was certain of your response. You have certainly made it very clear that I have a greater task before me than I even knew.”

  She stomped her foot. “I am trying to make it clear that it is impossible and that it will do me nothing but harm for you to make me the object of your attention at this house party.”

  Sir James clenched his jaw in vexation. “If I believed for one minute that you did not care for me, or that you would be happier here left alone, I would go away and never bother you again. But you are not happy here, and you do care for me.” When she would have spoken, he hurried to say, “Oh, perhaps you are not in love with me, but you are not indifferent to me. Even if you will not admit it to yourself. You must trust me not to do anything that would hurt you or your reputation in any way.”

  “I do trust that you don’t intend to make people gossip about me, but they are.”

  Sir James heard the sound of uneven wheels and a plodding horse coming toward them and turned in time to see Damen driving the gig around the bend. “Here, you must go. Just trust me, Cornelia. And try not to work yourself into too great a temper before we may speak again.”

  As he spoke, Damen drew up even with them.

  “But I am not done speaking with you," she protested as he led her over to the gig. "You haven’t agreed to let me be."

  “Nor will I until I am convinced hope is lost. And after last night, that will be a very difficult thing to convince me of.” He took her by the waist then and lifted her up into the gig.

  She took her seat, but looked down at him, “Are you not riding with us?”

  “No. I will walk back.”

  “But it must be three miles or more at least.”

  “And hopefully by the time I have walked all that way, I will have mastered the very considerable frustration you have caused me. Off with you.”

  He watched as the gig preceded up the road with Cornelia looking back at him until a turn in the road blocked the view. He looked down at the gingerbread in his hand and shook his head. He clenched his fist around it, grinding it into crumbs, then scattered it for the birds to enjoy.

  As he began walking, his temper eased slightly with each step. He racked his brain for what to do about his darling but obstinate ladylove. Coming up with nothing, he hoped the Countess would prove cleverer than he was.

  9

  Contrary Hearts

  Cornelia was not precisely proud of her decision to leave a basket of fish heads under Sir James’ bed. More like justified. After all, he deserved it.

  There was no hiding her growing feelings from him any longer, not after their frank communications, but why couldn’t he understand that his attentions were making her the topic of speculation? Already, she had overheard some of the matrons of the party gossiping about her behind their fans. No doubt because they intended her to hear.

  Instead of behaving in a way that would quell the gossips, Sir James had continued to pay too much attention to the lowly lady’s companion. He’d given her his own handkerchief when she’d gotten a fleck of dust in her eyes, positioned her chair at dinner because the footmen had been engaged with others, and assisted her in organizing a game of charades for the
entertainment of the guests in the drawing room afterward.

  Then he’d put his arms around her in full view of everyone, making her blush and tremble in response since there was no hiding the spark of pleasure it gave her. It had all been part of the game, of course, but she had no doubt that others had taken note and drawn conclusions.

  Irritated and flustered, she had thought of the plan as she had gone to perform her evening duties and seen the pile of discarded fish heads Alphonse had saved for the kitchen cat. If Sir James insisted upon being contrary, she would be contrary too. The odor was not too strong at the moment, but by morning it would be marvelously pungent.

  Now, that the deed was done, a feeling that she had gone too far filled her with dread. What if it… decided him against her? The thought sent a pang of worry through her, but she forced herself to keep going. She still hadn’t decided, completely anyway, if she had forgiven him for his high-handed behavior with his brother and the proposal. Even if his smile did make her heart flutter.

  As she reached the Countess’ rooms, she knocked lightly and entered when Brimsby opened the door for her. The Countess sat on a stool before her mirror, preparing for bed.

  “Ah, Miss Greystock. Come to take Wellington out?”

  “Yes, my lady. The rain has finally let up.”

  Brimsby picked up a hairbrush and ran it through the Countess’ hair. Cornelia watched, thinking how lovely her employer must have been in her youth. The Countess’ whole attention was on Cornelia however. “You look flushed, my dear girl.”

  “I have been rushing about a bit.”

  “Are you sure you are not up to some mischief?”

  Cornelia gave a prim smile, knowing the Countess would only be entertained should she find out. “Certainly not. You know I am a staid and unimaginative lady.”

  The Countess gave a crack of laughter. “Anyone who thinks that has never taken notice of the gleam in your eyes. Well, have fun my dear, and may you get what you deserve.”