Her brother rubbed his hands together and added cheerily, “Where is that hot chocolate we were promised?”
Eventually the major was prompted to declare the Clarendon woman and Sarah winners of the treasure hunt.
Luke took Sarah to one side. “I hope you know that one should not go prying in another man’s belongings. Certain things are not your business, young lady.”
“Why not? You’re my father, which means that everything about you is my business. I know who Gingersnap is and I’m sure they can all guess. Sakes, here comes that awful Miss Clarendon. I tried to lose her a few times in the hedgerows, but she trailed me like a foxhound. Even when I led her through a muddy ditch and she got her boot stuck, I thought she would give up, but no such luck.” She tucked a curl behind her ear. “It seems Miss Sherringham had more success at being rid of you. After all the trouble I went to, you let her fall into his clutches.” She shook her head. “Tsk, tsk. What am I to do with you?”
He began to suspect that Sarah had more than a little influence over the proceedings of that evening, from the choosing of names out of a bonnet to the writing of those lists. She had inherited her mama’s cunning.
As if she read his mind, she laughed. “Oh, don’t fuss, Papa!” Papa. It was feeling less strange already to hear her say it.
Once the hot chocolate was brought in, Luke edged toward the parlor door and slipped out into the dimly lit hall. Now where would a woman keep such a list as that one Rebecca supposedly maintained of manly attributes? A diary, perhaps? He couldn’t negotiate the stairs with his cane without making considerable noise, so he’d start in the kitchen. After all, that was where she’d kept their playing card IOU. Taking a candle in a brass holder from the hall table, he crept along the narrow passage but had only gotten two steps when the parlor door opened and Gingersnap came out.
“Where are you going, Colonel?”
He thought quickly. “Looking for something I thought I left here.”
“Oh? What?”
“A fob watch.”
“I didn’t see you with one.” She walked toward him.
“It’s gold. Costly. I’d like it back.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for it, of course.”
He backed up. “You’re not going to bite me again, are you?”
Her eyebrows arched high. “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“Haven’t decided whether you like it yet?” He smiled wryly. “You shouldn’t have run away while you had me cornered.”
“I didn’t have you cornered.” She hesitated. “Did I?”
“I was at your mercy.”
Apparently this idea pleased her. Her eyes shone with amusement and she bit her lip, possibly remembering the taste of that kiss.
Limping by her, he beat a retreat back to the parlor before either of them might be tempted.
* * *
The Clarendon woman took his arm and almost dragged him to a chair by the fire. “What a charming daughter you have, Colonel. So very sweet. I am quite smitten with her already.” She hovered over him like a nurse over a patient. “Although she did take me on quite a ramble. Mischievous creature! But I did not let her out of my sight, to be sure. I confess I thought tonight’s game would be very trying on my nerves, but my spirits are brightened considerably.”
“Are they?”
She barely lowered her voice and said, “Well, there is so little here to keep my interest. There is no culture here, no fashion, but I must go where my brother goes.”
“You must?”
“To keep an eye on him, of course! We expect great things from Charles and he cannot be allowed to make a misstep.”
When Luke glanced up, he saw the Clarendon woman staring across the room at her brother and Rebecca. “Great things, madam?” The lad looked like any other overprivileged, slack-jawed, weak-chinned, pampered youth to him.
Whatever his sister’s plans and ideas, Chinless Charles seemed to have others on his mind.
Luke’s mood became darker the longer he sat there.
Knowing the social climbing habits of the Clarendon family, should the grinning idiot not be using his talents on the earl’s daughter at Lark Hollow, where he had supposedly been staying? Instead he was here, practicing his skills on Rebecca Sherringham.
Exactly what sort of hunting had Clarendon come here for?
* * *
“So the old man is a war hero,” Charles whispered. “He’s rather tight-lipped about it. How many fellows do you suppose he slaughtered in battle? From what I remember, he has a violent temper—one only had to look at him the wrong way. Almost sent my brother Kit to his maker some years ago. Fighting over a woman.”
Since Luke didn’t want to talk of his medal, Becky had decided it was wrong for them to do so, but she couldn’t stop her ears from hearing. “Which woman?”
“Who could say? He had plenty of them but always kept an eye out for those who belonged to other people. Greedy, arrogant. Thought every woman ought to be his if he took a fancy to her. Kit took exception to that, naturally, and stood up to the bully.”
Becky looked over at Luke. He had confessed a great deal to her tonight and seemed almost relieved to do so. Although he’d said nothing about having brawled with Charles’s brother, there remained the fact that he did have a very odd look on his face when he heard that Clarendons were expected in the village. There was also the broken nose.
“I do not like the way that fellow watches you,” said Charles. “I am quite put out and feel as if I ought to slap the fellow with my glove.”
She looked at him askance. “I really don’t think that’s necessary.”
“But I will not have him trying to take you from me. I shall stand up to the boorish oaf.”
Becky was bemused. “I wasn’t aware that I was yours, Mr. Clarendon.” In a gentler tone, she added, “We both know we can only be friends.”
Now he looked saddened, but he did not reply.
“Excuse me, I must visit with the other guests.” Her father was enjoying himself tonight with a party of young people filling his parlor, but he was already getting a little too rowdy and had twice bellowed at Mrs. Makepiece that she should “cheer up” and loosen her stays. Becky knew she would have to take the wine away from him before he began removing parts of his own clothing.
She was shocked, in fact, to see that Mrs. Makepiece had walked across the village to join them there for the end of the treasure hunt. The lady usually avoided gatherings at the major’s house, because she found his manners boorish—and he, knowing this, took delight in being so in front of her. The fact that Major Sherringham was her landlord and yet she viewed his family as inferior to her own must be extremely galling for her. Yet tonight there she was, suffering the major’s comments while she discreetly eyed Colonel Wainwright and his medal.
As Becky rose up from the window seat to perform her duties as hostess to her guests and guardian to her wayward father, Charles gripped her hand. “Bored of my company already?”
“Of course not.”
“Good, because I have no plans to leave Hawcombe Prior. I am, in truth, growing inordinately fond of the place. And of the delightful young ladies who live here especially.”
Becky kept her face composed, remembering that she was resolved to be ladylike. Not to roll her eyes and be scathing. Not to be “forceful” and dismissive in that dreadfully unfeminine manner.
Besides, he held her hand tightly, and if she pulled away, it would be noticeable to others.
“I am very glad you like our village.” She looked over at his sister, who was talkative this evening, regaling Lucky Luke with a story about her “wretchedly wearisome” journey along winter roads to get there. If the man heard a word she said, it would be a miracle. Surrounded by ladies, he had his hands on his broad, muscular thighs, fingers splayed and tapping o
ut a slow tattoo, while he glared fiercely across the parlor at her and Charles. “I do not think Elizabeth shares your enthusiasm for Hawcombe Prior. She must be eager to return home to your father in Oxford.”
Charles snorted. “She’s not in Father’s good books either at the moment.” He paused and his eyes clouded over, then hardened. “I mean to say, Papa is never in a pleasant mood. It is very hard to make him happy these days. We are better off out of his sight until one of us at least is back in his favor.”
She thought how odd his family must be. Never had she been out of her father’s favor. “And your elder brother comes here for Christmas dinner tomorrow?” It would be interesting to meet Kit Clarendon again. She could find out more about Luke’s past.
“If he can tear himself away from his present company at Lark Hollow.”
She caught Luke’s eye again and felt the heat rise under her dress when she remembered how she had kissed him in the moonlit orchard. Somehow the kiss hadn’t been enough and so she’d bitten him. It was partially frustration, to be sure. But it was mostly lust, and wonder. And something dark, hidden from her.
He was turning her into a sinner. And he was doing that while he himself sought reform. Slyly turning the tables on her.
Suddenly Charles reached over and, while she was lost in her thoughts, he captured a stray lock of hair that trickled down her neck to rest upon her shoulder. “One day you must let me cut a curl of your luscious hair, Miss Sherringham. I am quite besotted with it.”
“What would you want it for?”
“So that I have a little of you with me always,” he whispered, his gaze lingering on the coil of hair around his finger. “We must exchange trinkets to mark our friendship.”
She laughed, brushing his hand away lightly. “Sounds rather silly to me. A piece of hair isn’t much use to anybody.”
“You must promise me not to flirt with Kit when he comes,” he said, placing his hand over hers on the window seat between them. “I shall explode with jealousy.”
She solemnly promised that she had no intention of flirting with anybody. His blue eyes adored and entreated at the same time, fixing her immoveable in their warm rays. Again he paid no attention to the others in the room, his sunny smile for her alone.
But Becky had begun to realize that she preferred the moonlight.
Cognizant of being watched by almost every eye in the parlor, she withdrew her other hand from beneath his and laid it in her lap.
* * *
Charles Clarendon’s sister had pulled up a chair to perch at Luke’s side again, and for the past ten minutes had regaled him with some story about which he could not possibly care less. She was the sort of wench who complained about everything when she’d never had a true problem in her life. He eyed her for a moment, his irritation with almost everyone and everything in that room mounting rapidly. Suddenly he growled, “You’re going to be disappointed, Miss Clarendon.”
Her brows delicately curved, matching the arch of her little finger as she sipped her chocolate. “Disappointed? How so?”
“Whatever you’ve heard about me, I’m not a rich man, so you’re wasting your time. I’m no more worth your attention than anyone else in this room, so go and warm your buttocks elsewhere.”
Two hot spots of color rose high on her cheeks. “I beg your pardon?”
“That’s why you’re playing up to me and Sarah, ain’t it?”
Her eyes widened in outrage. “Well, I never in my life—”
“Spare me the histrionics, woman. I’ll save us both the time and you the effort. I suspect you’re looking for a fellow to keep you in fancy hats and parasols. But I’ve nothing to offer a wife except a good-sized tallywag and a regular ride upon it. Best take your wares back to Oxford and hawk ’em there.”
Well, there went his intentions of keeping a gentlemanly temper.
When she finally slithered away from him, he was relieved to take a breath without swallowing more of her ghastly scent.
“What on earth did you say to Miss Clarendon?” Sarah wanted to know.
“I told her the truth,” he replied with an easy shrug. “I don’t think she was used to it. But I prefer a woman with a straightforward manner.” He shot a quick look over at Rebecca, and that was when he saw Charles touching her hand.
Bitter resentment seized him so suddenly it left him breathless.
When Ham Lady approached a few minutes later with some polite inquiry, he was feeling trapped in that parlor, tired of the pretense and angry enough to snap at her, “I heard you married for love, madam. You should let your daughter do the same.”
Her astonishment pinned her to the spot. “I beg your pardon?”
“Money causes naught but misery and she’s better off without it.”
“My daughter’s marriage is my business, Colonel,” she snapped.
“It should be hers, madam.”
Ham Lady looked as if she might require smelling salts.
“Words ain’t my talent,” he muttered gruffly, “so it’s best for me to tell it direct.”
Then, remembering there was nothing forcing him to stay and fearing he might proceed to vent with more unsavory truths, he got up with his cane and limped out of the house.
Twenty-four
Marianne began now to perceive that the desperation which had seized her at sixteen and a half, of ever seeing a man who could satisfy her ideas of perfection, had been rash and unjustifiable. Willoughby was all that her fancy had delineated in that unhappy hour…
—Sense and Sensibility
“We are merely friends,” Becky assured Justina the next day when she and her father arrived for dinner at Midwitch.
“It looked like rather more than that yesterday evening, Becky. He completely held your attention. Everyone is talking of it. I do hope you have your wits about you.”
“Charles Clarendon is a very pleasing gentleman, and I shall always think favorably of him.” That, she’d decided, would be her formal response to any questions on the matter. “I have always been polite to him, as a lady is supposed to be, have I not? It is only flirting.”
Justina looked anxious. “Only flirting? Well, I hope you do not put your heart at risk. Something about him seems false to me. I cannot put my finger on it. You are my dear friend, and I would not see you hurt for all the world.”
Again she assured Justina that her heart was safe, and the two women walked through the hall. Before they went in to dinner, Justina wanted to show her something and diverted her through the door into the drawing room.
Her husband had bought her a delightful rosewood writing desk and surprised her with it that morning.
“This is why he could not join the treasure hunt yesterday. He stole away to Manderson to fetch it. Is he not the very best, most clever, and generous of husbands?”
Becky dutifully admired the desk, which was indeed beautiful and a thoughtful gift.
“By the by, have you seen my silver bracelet anywhere, Becky? I am quite broken-hearted to have lost it.”
Becky couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her friend’s bracelet. “It’s very odd, for I heard Diana’s mother saying that she’s misplaced her cameo choker too—the one that was her grandmama’s and is said to be worth a great deal of money. Oh, and the colonel told me he lost a fob watch.” And now that she thought of it, the silver milk jug was missing from the dresser shelf in her own kitchen. She wasn’t able to find it the night before when she made the hot chocolate after their treasure hunt.
“Oh, well!” Justina sighed sadly. “I daresay these things will come to light eventually. They can’t have gone far.” Then, as they left the drawing room, she took her friend’s hand and said, “The colonel has given his fortune to my Wainwright, you know. Did he tell you?”
Becky was astonished. “Why would he…? Why would he tell me?”
“I just wondered if he had. He said it is his gift to us, because he has nothing else to give.”
She shook her head, not sure what to make of it, but suddenly anxious.
They walked back out into the hall and assembled with the others before proceeding into the dining room. Becky took a seat at the Wainwrights’ table beside her father, who was very excited about the meal, particularly the plum pudding and brandy butter. He had talked of nothing else all morning.
The colonel did not come in until they were all seated around the table. He looks rather pale and haggard, she thought. After murmuring a low, gruff greeting to everyone, he lurched around the table to take his seat between his daughter and his sister-in-law.
What on earth could he mean by giving up his rights? Her heart felt as if an ice-cold fist had closed around it.
Had he decided to leave? Did he give up not only his inheritance but their wager?
There was so much merry conversation that she was unable to make eye contact with him for the first two courses. But she was still very much aware of the man and every movement he made.
He hunched over his food, barely bothering to mumble a reply when anyone attempted to draw him into the conversation. One glance at his bloodshot eyes informed her of the reason. Evidently hot chocolate had not been his only tipple after the treasure hunt.
When Sarah inquired whether he had yet let Dr. Penny examine his leg—a seemingly innocuous question—Luke dropped his knife, rose from his chair, and muttered a very tight, “Excuse me.”
With that, he limped rapidly, and at a slightly wayward tilt, to the dining room door. His first attempt at opening it failed due to an unsteady hand that couldn’t grip the handle adequately. Then, when he did get it open, he banged his forehead on the edge of it before stumbling out and slamming it behind him. Sarah got up to follow, but her uncle forbade it and told her to finish her dinner. There was a distinct chill left in the air with the colonel’s abrupt departure, and after a pause, Justina explained that he was a private man who did not like to discuss his injury.
Sinfully Ever After (Book Club Belles Society) Page 23