The Townsbridge's Series

by Sophie Barnes

  She huffed a breath. “Your behavior borders on the improper.”

  “Then I’m living up to my reputation, am I not?” He glanced over his shoulder at her and winked. “Or at the very least the reputation you believe must be mine.”

  “Reputations are based on action. What people do, how they behave, will invariably determine how others see them.”

  “Has it never occurred to you that this view may be skewed?” Having reached the top of the stairs, he led her down the hallway to the right, toward the door at the end. “I’m sure there are plenty of people who do abominable things behind closed doors while appearing as paragons of Society when in public.”

  “Possibly.”

  “Similarly, I’m sure there are those Society would brand disreputable even though they might in fact be deserving of praise.”

  “And I suppose you consider yourself to be one such individual?”

  “All I’m saying,” he told her as he opened the door and ushered her up the steps beyond, “is that when it comes to Society, one should be cautious about passing judgment, one way or the other.”

  He had a fair point. There was no denying that. It was the conclusion she herself had arrived at that afternoon. For although the evidence would suggest he was a cad, it would be wrong of her not to let him defend his position. Not only because every person deserved such a chance, but also because a corner of her heart had been disappointed to learn he’d not only gotten a woman with child out of wedlock, but was trying to woo Margaret into marriage at the same time. She wanted nothing to do with Mr. Townsbridge if this was what he was truly like. But what if it wasn’t? What if she’d leapt to the wrong conclusion?

  Margaret stepped up onto a squeaky floorboard and frowned. “This is the attic.”

  “A keen observation, Miss Hollyoak. Bravo.”

  That did it. Intent on getting him back for first tickling her awake and then treating her like an infant, she jammed her fist into his shoulder as hard as she could.

  The rogue merely grinned. And then he was tugging her through the dimly lit space, past old furniture and several boxes, trunks, and artwork. The evenings were getting longer, so while it was already nearing nine o’ clock and the visibility was decreasing, it was still possible to see thanks to the pale rays of sunlight spilling through four round windows.

  Mr. Townsbridge stopped when he reached a wooden door with louvers designed for the purpose of ventilation. He unlatched it and pulled it open, then swept his arm in a gesture inviting Margaret to step out onto a balcony.

  She gave him a hesitant glance, then did as he bade, and was instantly rendered speechless. Vibrant shades of orange, pink, and purple were smeared across the sky, tinting the clouds in a stunning display of luminescent color.

  “Isn’t it pretty?”

  His low murmur stirred the air and vibrated through her. She nodded. “It is, indeed.”

  An easy silence followed before he confided, “I never miss a sunset when I’m here. I’ve been watching them since my governess brought me up here for the first time when I was a boy. I believe I was seven or eight. My parents were arguing, which upset me since it destroyed the illusion I’d had of their being in love. Miss Penwood showed me that even when the world looks harsh and ugly, there is endless beauty to be found. She said that no matter how painful life can be, I would always be able to seek solace in the perfection God has created.”

  “Your governess was kind and wise. I think I would have liked her.”

  “We still keep in touch, she and I.” Margaret glanced at him and saw he was smiling, not with pleasure exactly, but with a fond sort of sentimentality brought on by wonderful memories. He dropped his gaze to hers. “She lives in Kent now where she runs a small bookshop with her sister.”

  “Does she know you’ve become a rake?” Although she knew the question might ruin the mood, Margaret could not help but ask it. She needed to figure out who he really was.

  “That word again.” Mr. Townsbridge returned his attention to the view. The colors were starting to darken now as the sun crept lower. He shook his head. “I don’t think you know what a rake actually is if you believe me to be one.”

  “The rumors—”

  “Are merely that. Rumors. Mostly begun by jealous men, I’d imagine, or women I’ve turned away.”

  “You didn’t deny having lovers.” Heat filled her cheeks as she spoke the word.

  “Few men live like monks, Miss Hollyoak. I will admit that I am one such man. I’ll not tell you otherwise. But that does not make me a rake.”

  “No?”

  “No.” He turned more fully toward her. The sun was almost gone now, the lack of light casting his face in shadow. “Rakes look out only for their own self-interest. They seduce and lie their way into the beds of unsuspecting women and don’t give a fig for the consequences.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Exactly?”

  Margaret raised her chin. Her heart hammered wildly against her breast. “I know about Miss Granger.”

  “Forgive me, but I’m having some trouble with following your logic.” He paused, gave Margaret a pensive look. “How does your misguided belief about my character relate to Miss Granger, and how do you know about her, anyway?”

  Determined to press him for answers, Margaret straightened her spine, fought the urge to end this uncomfortable conversation, and forced herself to be blunt. “I fear she may be a…a victim of your lascivious ways.”

  “Why the hell would you suppose such a thing?”

  Stunned by his clipped tone, Margaret hesitated. She’d expected him to be shocked by her question, perhaps even apologetic or ready with some explanation. Instead, the levity he’d given way to earlier was stripped away in a second, leaving only condemnation for her in its place.

  She swallowed and clasped her hands together. “I overheard you speaking with your father this morning about your connection with her and the child you feel responsible for because of your, as you put it, involvement.”

  It was too dark now for her to see his features clearly, but she could feel his anger rippling around her. And then he snorted with what could not be mistaken for anything but contempt. “You are determined to think the worst of me, no matter what. Aren’t you? Honestly, I don’t know what I was thinking to imagine a young and naive woman such as yourself would be open-minded enough to ignore the gossips and actually get to know me.”

  “I have gotten to know you.”

  “No, you haven’t. You’ve enjoyed a few short hours in my company, during which you deceived me for the most part, if you’ll recall. So if I were to follow your example, I ought to brand you a habitual liar who’s not to be trusted, and in doing so, I would at least have some proof, whereas your accusations are based on nothing but misconception and whatever nonsense you’ve created in that silly head of yours.”

  “Mr. Townsbridge, I—”

  “This does it. I’m through trying to prove myself to you. We’ll do our best to muddle through the remainder of your visit with decorum, but once you leave, I’ll pray I never have to meet with you ever again.” He turned away and stepped back into the attic. “Come along, please, so I may shut the door.”

  Margaret did as he asked. Never in her life had she felt so small, and she wasn’t entirely sure why. He’d not explained the situation with Miss Granger, so she wasn’t any wiser with regard to his involvement with the woman than she had been moments earlier. Yet somehow, Margaret had the distinct sensation of having wronged him. More than that, he seemed genuinely hurt by her accusation, which led her to the awful realization that she’d not only misjudged him, but wounded his pride.

  “I’m sorry,” she said in a futile attempt to restore the blooming friendship she’d just destroyed.

  “No need.” He shut the door and latched it, then started toward the stairs.

  Margaret followed. “Will you not explain the situation to me?”

  “There are things that should not require
explaining. You’ve clearly made up your mind about me, Miss Hollyoak, and I am not in the mood to try and sway you in your opinion. Quite the opposite.” He descended the stairs and held the door open for her at the bottom. The light from the hallway fell on his features, which were now so hard they offered no hint of the jovial man whose company she had enjoyed.

  “Mr. Townsbridge,” she tried once she’d reached him and the door to the attic stairs had been shut. “Please consider my point of view. I hope to marry a man who will be loyal and caring, not one who will have affairs on the side and humiliate me. What I seek is friendship, companionship, and, hopefully, love. In order for those to be guaranteed, I need to know the facts about the man I choose to marry so I don’t fall prey to the same sort of union my parents have had to endure.”

  His features finally softened a notch. “You seek more than convenience for much the same reason as I, but you’re not going to find what you want unless you can get past your preconceptions.”

  “Forgive me, but I think I’d be naive to place all my trust in a man I know little about. Especially when said man is reputed to be a rake, and I’ve overheard evidence in support of this claim with my very own ears.”

  “All right. I’ll accept that logic for a moment.” He offered his arm and proceeded to guide her in the direction of her bedchamber. “But consider your heart and your very own instinct. Do either give you cause to believe I’m a villainous scoundrel?”

  “Not really,” Margaret admitted. “In fact, I quite like you as a person. Judging from the time I’ve spent in your company, I find you to be nice, funny, charming, and kind. But what if all of that is but an illusion?”

  “I see.”

  “You do?” When he didn’t respond, she mustered her courage and said, “I’d like another chance to get to know you. Properly, this time. Without any bias.”

  A frown creased his brow. They reached her bedchamber door before he eventually spoke. “Tomorrow we’ll go for a ride. I’ll explain my so-called involvement with Miss Granger then so you may form a more educated opinion. All right?”

  Appreciating his willingness to confide in her, Margaret agreed, then bid him good night. She’d wounded his pride tonight, that much was clear, and while he’d initially wanted distance, he’d not been too stubborn to try and work through this issue together. Which was something she valued - a sign they could settle disputes in a sensible way. It hinted at the beginning of a relationship based on respect - the perfect foundation for a solid friendship and possibly something much stronger, provided he managed to assuage all her concerns.

  Chapter 3

  After seeing Miss Hollyoak safely to her room, George made his way to his own bedchamber, located on the other side of the house. Once there, he poured himself a large glass of brandy and took several sips while pondering his most recent conversation with her.

  By God, she’d made him angry. He’d been so looking forward to spending his evening with her, but when she’d suggested he’d gotten Miss Granger with child, it was as if the person he’d thought Miss Hollyoak to be had vanished. He’d no longer seen her as someone he might find happiness with, but rather as the worst sort of judgmental female imaginable – a woman who would always ignore her own experience with him in favor of thinking the worst.

  Until she’d explained her reasoning.

  In truth, she was right to be cautious - to safeguard her heart until she was certain the man to whom she chose to give it was truly deserving. Given her age and her lack of experience in the world, this was of even greater importance.

  He downed the last of his drink and rang for his valet so he could get ready for bed. It was easy for him to forget she was so much younger than he when they were together. Talking to her was so natural. It didn’t feel like there were eleven years between them. But there were, and when it came to making informed decisions based on complete objectivity, the difference showed. So he’d do his best to remember that from now on, and rather than chastise, he’d make an effort to offer guidance.

  The dew still clung to the grass when George set off with Miss Hollyoak the following day after breakfast. He’d informed their parents that he would be giving her a tour of the estate, and while he had thought to mention the idea of bringing a chaperone, he rather fancied being alone with his lovely guest, so when no one else said anything, he’d kept quiet. If it came up later, he’d simply say it hadn’t crossed his mind since they would be riding and having a mounted chaperone wasn’t something he’d thought to consider.

  “If you look hard enough,” he told Miss Hollyoak once they’d crossed a couple of fields, “you can see the top of a steeple in the distance.”

  She raised her hand to shield her gaze from the sun. “Oh yes.”

  “That’s the next village and where our property ends.”

  “How many estates do you have?”

  “Just the one, along with a property in the Lake District. My grandparents used to take us there when my siblings and I were little.”

  “You have two younger brothers and a sister, correct?”

  “That’s right. Rose, Ben, and Lucas are all happily married with nurseries of their own. Which has made Father more determined than ever to see me wed. I have a duty toward the continuation of the title, yet here I am, shirking it, as he would say.”

  “On the contrary, it looks like you’re making an effort to find a wife.”

  “Hmm…” He glanced at her and instantly grinned on account of the mischievous sparkle in her blue eyes. “Perhaps you’re right. Do you ride well, Miss Hollyoak?”

  “Well enough for a race, if that’s what you have in mind.”

  “You’re certain?”

  Her smile became a challenging smirk. “I bet you can’t catch me.”

  Before he had a chance to contradict her preposterous wager, she’d spurred her horse into a furious gallop. Good lord. He sat for a second, utterly stunned by her proficiency and the elegance with which she sat in the saddle, before he thought to follow.

  “Yah!” George dug his heels into his horse’s flanks and leaned forward to meet the air like a spear. Nothing invigorated him more than a hard ride, the beat of the hooves vibrating through him until he felt at one with the beast.

  Racing faster, he grinned with wild abandon as he came up alongside Miss Hollyoak. She turned her gaze toward him and laughed. The hat she’d been wearing when they’d set out must have fallen off at some point, and stray locks of hair dislodged from their pins streamed out behind her. The gleam in her eyes went straight to his heart, filling it with an incredibly strong sense of unity. He felt a natural connection with her - a chance for understanding and like-mindedness he’d never before experienced with anyone else.

  Perhaps because they’d quarreled?

  Instead of pretending an interest in marrying him, she’d told him outright that she had none. More than that, she’d told him why. And later, when she’d thought she’d found evidence in support of her reasoning, she’d confronted him. What followed had made him feel closer to her, as if somehow by arguing, they’d broken down the barriers between them. Of course, he still had to tell her the truth, but he was confident that once he did, it would only strengthen the bond they were already forming.

  “I won,” Miss Hollyoak said with a gasp of breath when she drew her mount to a halt moments later.

  George sent her a teasing smile. “You’re welcome to be as delusional as you like.”

  She gaped at him. “Delusional? I got here first.”

  “Of course you did,” he said, applying his most serious tone.

  “I did!”

  “I know. I will not argue.”

  Setting her mouth in a firm line, she shook her head in what looked like extreme exasperation, but there was humor to be found in her eyes. “You are insufferable.”

  “I’m glad you think so since it can only mean you’re not immune to my charms.” When he waggled his eyebrows, her effort to look stern and chastising faile
d and laughter burst from between her lips. “Hold on. I’ll come and help you dismount.”

  George slid off his own horse, tied the reins to a nearby tree, and went to assist his delightful companion. The ride had not only undone her perfect coiffure, it had also pinkened her cheeks, which only made her disheveled appearance all the more lovely. George’s chest tightened slightly in response, more so when he reached her and she rewarded him with the most dazzling smile he’d ever received.

  He reached up and set his hands on her waist. Without hesitation she leaned down and placed her hands on his shoulders for support, as if they’d done this a thousand times before. The air around them stilled, sharpening his senses as she slid into his arms. He became aware of the way she smelled, like lavender oil mixed with sage and eucalyptus. It was sweet, refreshing, and earthy all at once, instilling in him a desire to hold onto her forever.

  “Mr. Townsbridge?”

  He breathed her in one last time before stepping back. “Forgive me. I fear I forgot myself for a moment.”

  “I do tend to have that effect on men,” she said, her rosy cheeks darkening as her blush deepened.

  She was charming - utterly charming - and he had never been more smitten. “You’re a dangerous creature, Miss Hollyoak. I’m beginning to think the army could use you to distract the enemy.”

  “Oh, I’m sure. Just last month I received a request from the king. He asked if I could please lead the cavalry into the next battle. I believe his intention is to baffle the French into submission if they ever choose to cause trouble again.”

  George grinned. “The lady who stopped a war before it began by confusing the enemy. I rather like that idea, though I do think you ought to turn down the request.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because I have no intention of letting my wife put herself in danger.”

  He’d meant the comment as a light jest of sorts, but rather than laugh and offer a sly retort, Miss Hollyoak frowned. “I’m not sure which I ought to protest first, your assumption we’ll marry or your belief that if we do you’ll get to decide what I can or cannot do.”