That statement quickly seized the attention of the other women and they gathered around, even those who might like to think gossip beneath them.
“There is scarce a heart, or at least a reputation, between London and Bombay that he has not left shattered. My very particular friend, Viscountess Waltham—who is his stepsister, don’t you know—told me that in his heyday, he often kept three young ladies on his arm at once and still that did not stop him from looking for another. His antics quite shamed the family.” Although the woman made some attempt at a whisper, it was not as low or as discreet as it might have been. Fortunately Diana’s playing of a merry Scots reel was just loud enough to keep their conversation from the ears of anyone across the drawing room. “They say the man kept a harem.”
Mrs. Makepiece tipped to one side, gripping the back ridge of the sofa as if she needed smelling salts. A scandalized whisper slipped out from between her pale lips. “A harem?”
“Indeed. The more the merrier in his bed, so I hear. Not that it was always in a bed.”
Justina had walked over to join the ladies, and she responded crossly to this outrageous remark, “However my brother-in-law once led his life, that is all in the past.”
“But they do say leopards never change their spots,” Mrs. Kenton replied, undaunted. She turned to Becky and whispered behind her fan. “I would advise you to be wary, Miss Sherringham. He never married that little girl’s mama, you know, and I shouldn’t be surprised if there are more by-blows wandering about the country. The man had a shameless aversion to matrimony. Until now.”
“Mrs. Kenton, I have already told you that I am not going to marry—”
“That poor child, Sarah,” the heedless woman went on. “Lady Waltham told me he did not take responsibility for the babe when she was born. No one would ever have known she existed if the child’s strumpet mother had not delivered her into the family’s safekeeping when Lucius went off to India.”
Justina had heard all this, despite Mrs. Kenton’s attempt at a sly whisper. “Madam, Sarah’s mother is not alive to defend herself against unkind gossip and we know nothing about her.”
The woman remained unapologetic. “Well, it is fair conjecture. Lucius never pursued proper young ladies, and any decent mother would keep her daughter out of his way.”
Becky pressed her lips together, reliving again how he’d kissed her last night. And where. He was a rake, a reckless libertine with a harem and at least one illegitimate child. A daughter he’d abandoned.
The pastor’s wife was not yet finished with her lurid tale. She fanned her chin rapidly and continued, “He once seduced his brother’s sweetheart, you know. Stole her away from under his nose just as bold as you please. Darius never recovered from the betrayal by both his brother and the little slattern involved. Dora Woodgrave, the daughter of his tutor. Darius would have married her, had his brother not come home on leave and ruined her innocence.”
Becky felt her friend bristling with anger at her side.
“If my husband is prepared to forgive, madam, then so must we,” Justina exclaimed tightly. “My brother-in-law has returned to us a new man, reformed and contrite. Now he is engaged to my friend, and it is even more imperative that we believe in his desire for improvement.”
Yet again, Becky tried to correct this misconception. “But I am not going to marry—”
“Of course.” The parson’s wife partially bowed her head in a gesture of unconvincing meekness. “I only thought to state the facts for Rebecca’s sake. As a friend with her best interests at heart, you would surely wish for her to know.”
Justina walked away, clearly too annoyed to stay a moment longer and listen to the woman. Becky would have followed, but now Mrs. Kenton cornered her just as she had the colonel earlier. “Lady Waltham also informed me of the provision written by old Mr. Wainwright into his will shortly before his death. But perhaps you are aware of it? The money may be inducement enough for you. It certainly is for your father, it seems.”
“I beg your pardon, madam?”
“Lucius cannot inherit a penny of the family fortune unless he marries and settles down. The eldest son’s wild ways were always a terrible concern to old Wainwright. I suppose you are a convenient woman for the colonel in that case.”
Becky felt her lips part, but no sound came out.
A convenient woman! Then this was nothing to do with concern for her reputation at all. He was merely using her to get his filthy clutches on the Wainwright fortune and disinherit her dear friend’s children.
Becky raised a hand to her breast, touching the skin where he had pressed his lips last night in a wicked kiss. At that same moment, she looked over and found him watching her. How could eyes so dark be that hot? Mrs. Kenton’s voice buzzed in her ear. “I know you have no mother to advise you, and your father is a lax guardian. Perhaps that is why the colonel picked you out for this scheme, poor thing. I pray you do not think me talking out of turn, as they say, but I would not stand by and see you misused. If you were a daughter of mine, I would want someone to advise you, if I must be absent.”
Becky did not want to believe everything the vicar’s wife said. She hoped, for her friend’s sake—and for young Sarah’s—that Lucky Luke had returned a changed man. But hoping was as far as she could go. Look how quickly he had almost seduced her last night!
Those eyes were sinful, secretive. Full of debauched thoughts.
At least they were when they looked at her.
He smiled at her. Had the gall to smile! The cad. Last night he’d had the audacity to accuse her of trying to trap him, when all the time he was the one scheming for a bride.
“Yorkshire hot pot, indeed!” Mrs. Kenton grumbled under her breath.
Mrs. Penny popped up on Becky’s other side and tapped her on the sleeve. “Whatever Mrs. Kenton’s doubts, the colonel is just the man for you, Rebecca, my dear. Snap him up while you can, for there might not be another man to come your way before it is too late and you are past your prime. He surely cannot afford to be too fastidious. Not with his history. He is likely to manage you well enough.”
When Becky laughed, it came out rather high and thin. “Thank you, madam, but if the colonel ever thinks to manage me, he might end up with two limps instead of one.”
Twelve
Like squirrels around a bag of nuts, the ladies had gathered by a sofa on the far side of the room. From the many sly glances cast his way, Luke guessed he was the dominant topic of conversation. Sarah was right, he mused; it was a good thing he’d taken her advice and cleaned himself up. Better he not give them any additional ammunition against him, for her sake. She had come to stand at his side, bringing with her the overly rouged, giggling creature who had earlier turned the music while she played.
“Miss Sherringham says she’s not going to marry you, Colonel.”
“So I heard, Sarah. The lady likes to tease. She is full of wit and vivacity. Quite makes my breeches split with the hilarity.”
“She did not look very amused when she said it. And, by the by, I have my mind set upon her for a mother now. I think she will advise me very well.”
“Is that so?”
“And she is not one of those vapid, giggling girls with round heels that you used to chase after.”
Luke scowled. “Who told you that?”
She put her proud little chin in the air and said smugly, “I have my ears open, Colonel. Just like my eyes. I am quite sure Miss Sherringham will help me to look after you.”
“Hmph.” The shirt borrowed from his brother was too tight across the shoulders and constricted the movement of his arms, so he began to feel penned in. He groaned softly, leaning on his cane. “She and I must get accustomed to the idea of shackles.”
The ladies around the sofa now dispersed, evidently finished pecking at his nuts. Rebecca walked over to the fire with two of the women fol
lowing, poking her sleeves, talking to her earnestly in voices too low for him to hear above the music.
“You must ask Dr. Penny about your leg,” said Sarah. “He is there, by the fire. Let me take you over.”
“If it makes you content, Sarah, I will visit the doctor tomorrow. But now let him enjoy the fire and this good company in peace, eh? I’m sure the last thing he wants is to look at my wounds when he’s been invited to a party.”
“Very well, but you must promise to go tomorrow.”
“If you say so.”
“Miss Sherringham will agree with me, I’m sure.”
“Will she?” He thought Gingersnap was more likely to prefer him hobbled, so he couldn’t keep up with her.
Now Sarah’s companion—she of the fair ringlets and red cheeks—spoke up. “I can’t imagine why she didn’t tell us she was engaged. I know I would be bursting to tell if it were my news. We all thought she would never find a man to marry, for she is so very particular in her likes and dislikes. She fired an arrow at the last man who took a fancy to her. Becky claimed it was a mistake and that he merely wandered between her and the target, but we all know differently.”
That did not surprise him at all. Lord, he needed more punch, he thought, gazing into his empty cup.
“Soon I will be the only one of us without a husband,” Ringlets added. “I lamented, only this morning, how interesting single men hardly ever come here and when they do, they are immediately snapped up. Now the militia are no longer encamped nearby, it feels as if all eligible men have abandoned us. But Becky said she didn’t care and would rather live on the moon.”
He smirked as he remembered thinking, the first time he met her, that she must have come from there, or a planet nearby. “What do you young ladies find to do with your time in the absence of interesting gentlemen?”
Sarah answered, “We don’t miss them very much, Colonel. We have a book society.”
“Books?” He frowned. That was hardly compensation for the company of men.
“Yes, you know, Colonel. They have pages and open thusly.” Sarah demonstrated with her hands, her face perfectly innocent. Cheeky miss.
Over by the fire, he heard Rebecca exhale a short chuckle before she turned away again. Apparently she had good hearing. He wouldn’t be able to get much past her notice. His frown grew heavier until he began to feel a headache from it. Must be the heat of the room and all those haughty women staring at him, he decided. Christ, he hated these stifling little parties. Tonight he remembered why it had been such a pleasure to let himself be thought dead, to escape society and the need for rigid manners.
Sarah and her friend were now discussing books. Ringlets exclaimed that she would rather enjoy the entertainment provided by real men than the fictional sort. “Sometimes, Colonel Wainwright,” she added, “I believe we read too many books.”
“Nonsense,” said Sarah. “There is no such thing as too many books.”
“Well, you wouldn’t really know, my dear little Sarah. It is your only entertainment. You haven’t been to a ball or danced at the assemblies and met any beaus. You haven’t known what it is to be adored and flirted with by half a dozen men at once and learned the art of juggling your admirers, keeping them all in love with you. There would not have been so much time to read books then.” She looked up at Luke from beneath her long, fair lashes and gave a coy smile, probably induced by too much punch. “Dear little Sarah hasn’t experienced enough of the world yet to know the difference between a fictional hero and a live one. Don’t you agree, Colonel?”
He considered that for a moment and then replied, “I am glad that she hasn’t experienced that side of life yet or learned those particular arts you mention. Sarah is young and has plenty of time for all that.”
“Oh.”
There was an awkward silence while Luke stared morosely at his punch cup.
Finally Ringlets found another subject. “Do you like to dance, Colonel?”
“No,” he growled. “My dancing days are over.”
She glanced at his walking cane. “Of course, how silly of me. You mustn’t mind me, Colonel. I do sometimes say the most foolish things.”
But Sarah exclaimed, “Even if you can’t dance a reel, I’m sure you could manage a minuet or a Boulanger, something without too much leaping about.”
“I can assure you, Sarah, that wild elephants wouldn’t drag me onto a dance floor again.”
As the two young ladies now discussed the next, much anticipated Manderson assembly room dance, Luke let his mind wander to something of more interest. Across the room, his reluctant fiancée appeared to be suffering in quiet torment as those two ladies fussed around her. She finally extricated herself from their pokes and clutches to perch beside the parson on the sofa. There she feigned deep absorption in that fellow’s conversation, but Luke saw from the clenching of her hands and the tapping of her toes that it took all her willpower to sit still.
At least he was fairly sure she didn’t have a weapon on her tonight. Fairly sure. In that dress, there were few places to hide one, he mused. If there was some other bachelor present, he might have thought she dressed that way for him.
Not that he would have been jealous. He’d never been jealous in his life and was too old to start now.
Uh-oh. She’d just looked his way with a frosty glare that shriveled his plums to prunes.
He tapped his cane on the carpet and straightened his shoulders.
What was he waiting for? Hanging back like a pimply, uncertain youth! So he began a limping course toward her.
Say something charming and slightly naughty, he thought, and then she’d smile and forgive him for hiding his identity from her. Young ladies couldn’t have changed that much since he last seduced one out of a surly mood.
Nothing to it.
* * *
The parson, his eyes round behind his spectacles, gravely warned her against coming out in such a thin muslin gown and with nothing warm across her shoulders. She’d already been assured by his wife and by Mrs. Penny that this particular shade of rosy pink should never be worn by a redhead.
“It does you no favors, my dear,” Mrs. Kenton had informed her. “With your looks, you must be careful. The eye can only see so much color at once, and that hair of yours is very…bright. It is always in danger of looking brassy.”
“Never mind,” Becky replied. “With any luck, it will soon be sprouting gray and then I shan’t have to worry about looking garish anymore.”
The two ladies further advised her that the style of her gown was too low cut in the front, was far too “fancy,” exposed too much shoulder for a small drawing room party, and needed a lace tuck to preserve her modesty. It was not the first time the ladies had taken it upon themselves to criticize her form of dress. Because she had no mother, they seemed to think it their responsibility to point out her mistakes. But since they only ever told her what she did wrong when she was already doing it and it was too late to change, their advice was never much use.
As for Mr. Kenton’s quiet concern about her gown being too thin and exposing too much shoulder, Becky could little entertain the possibility of catching a cold while Lucky Luke’s heated gaze warmed her shoulders. The villain’s thumping cane could be heard like a warning overture before he arrived in her side view.
“Ah, Colonel Wainwright,” Mr. Kenton exclaimed, quickly forgetting Becky’s failure to dress herself appropriately. “We will expect to see you at church this week, of course.”
Becky, glancing up at the colonel’s startled face, very much doubted anyone had ever expected him at a church.
“Hmmm.” The man could barely move his lips to make that sound. Now she knew exactly why Darius Wainwright’s expression—that disgruntled, begrudging smile—had so often seemed familiar to her. “That shade of rose matches your maidenly blushes, Miss Sherringham.”
/> Before she could say anything, the parson intervened. “I have already advised Miss Sherringham to dress warmer in such weather. She risks her health by coming out in December in such a thin frock. The good Lord would consider that an act of disdain and disregard for one of His creations.”
“Indeed.” The colonel dropped his hand to his side. “And His creation is such a pretty one. So very well made.”
“I’m sure the good Lord has many other things to do with His time than worry about what I wear.”
“On the contrary, Miss Sherringham,” said Mr. Kenton. “He watches over all of us, all the time. He is omnipresent.”
“Like your wife,” she muttered.
“Surely,” said the colonel, his voice low, “God would want us to admire His creation. Therefore I, for one, am glad Miss Sherringham is not all covered up.”
The parson did not know what to say to that. Neither did Becky.
Lucky Luke added, “What does it say in the Bible, Mr. Kenton? Something about not hiding your light under a bushel?”
“You are a student of the Holy Bible?” Becky sputtered. “I am surprised. I didn’t think you read books at all.”
“You’re mistaken, my dear. I love a good book.”
“You once told me you had little time for them. The words ‘daft’ and ‘bloody’ were used.”
He ignored that. “In fact, Sarah has just invited me to join this…book society thingummy.”
Horrified, she exclaimed, “It’s all ladies.”
“I’ll have to be on my best behavior then.”
Oh no, he was not invading their club. “Men are not allowed.”
She was quite sure the last thing he read was the suit on a pack of cards. Or an IOU. He had claimed that written words looked jumbled to him and he was surely not a man who could be entertained by the quiet study of any book, let alone a romance such as those the Book Club Belles generally acquired.
Sinfully Ever After (Book Club Belles Society) Page 12