The Townsbridge's Series

by Sophie Barnes

  She and Langdon, or Robert as he now allowed her to call him, had known each other for weeks. Their conversation was amicable, though perhaps a bit reserved. But he did smile when she spoke and had even laughed in her company on occasion. Oh, and he’d also kissed her, which was something, she supposed. Even though it had not been a life-altering kiss, it had been pleasant enough. Certainly, she decided, she and Langdon could be content with each other. And as she walked and the breeze cooled her skin, she accepted that this would simply have to be enough.

  When Charles entered the ballroom that evening, he greeted the nearest guests politely then sought out his family. Since his sisters, Athena and Sarah, were still too young to attend such events, they had remained upstairs in their bedchambers for the evening. Instead he found his parents and younger brothers, James and William, scattered about. As hosts, his parents were busy conversing with guests, so he decided to approach James instead.

  “Do you know if Robert has arrived yet?” he asked after saying, “Good evening,” to Baron Garret with whom James was speaking.

  “I haven’t seen him,” James said, “but he usually tends to arrive late at social events, does he not?”

  Charles nodded. His friend was never in a hurry to spend time at balls, for he loathed having to dance, but Charles had hoped he’d make an exception this evening. After all, it was three months since they’d last seen each other. Robert had been away in New York and had only just returned yesterday morning. Charles was eager to hear about his travels.

  Excusing himself to James and Garret, Charles went to collect a glass of champagne from the refreshment table. The room was already unbearably hot and clamorous from the mixture of conversation and music that seemed to jab at his ears. Charles glanced at the terrace doors. He’d only just arrived and already longed to escape.

  Perhaps just for a moment?

  His mother would kill him if she found him hiding away on the terrace when he was supposed to be writing his name on dance cards. He considered the row of wallflowers waiting with hopeful eyes directed at each passing gentleman and decided he’d dance with them all this evening. But not until he’d had a chance to cool down a little.

  Following the periphery of the room, he reached the French doors leading onto the terrace and stepped out into the fresh night air. A sigh of relief escaped him as a welcome breeze glided over his hair. He took an invigorating sip of his drink and moved further away from the ballroom to where the air wasn’t hampered by the wide façade of his parents’ home.

  A lone woman, silhouetted against the dark garden beyond, was standing near the railing. Charles slowed his progress and prepared to retreat to the opposite corner of the terrace so as not to intrude or risk ruining her reputation by being alone with her.

  But then she turned as if sensing him there, and Charles’s heart stumbled. It was she, the young lady from the lake, with the eyes he’d never forget and the smile that did curious things to his insides.

  She stared at him as if he’d arrived from a dream she’d been having, as if she would happily risk losing other belongings if it would provide an excuse for them to see each other again. Which Charles acknowledged was the oddest contemplation he’d ever had when he didn’t know one thing about her. Besides the fact that she was curious, forward, and prepared to abandon decorum, at least to sprint after her bonnet.

  “I should arrange for a proper introduction,” he said, because that was the only thing that seemed to matter right now – discovering who she was and being allowed to ask her to dance.

  She parted her lips as if to respond, but then she appeared to register something and the momentary hint of delight he’d glimpsed was instantly brought to an end. Puzzled, Charles failed to notice the approaching footsteps, but then he felt a hand slap his back and he turned to meet Robert’s sparkling eyes.

  A rough bit of laughter escaped him. “God, it’s good to see you again after all this time. I missed our weekly game of billiards.”

  Robert grinned. “I’ve much to tell you, my friend, most importantly perhaps, the fact that I’ve gotten engaged.”

  Charles stared at the man whom he knew so well and then laughed. “Truly? You must introduce me at once to the marvelous woman who’s managed to tempt you with marriage.”

  Robert beamed. “It would seem you’ve already met her.” He gestured to the side and Charles followed the movement with the sense that the flame burning bright in his chest was about to be snuffed out forever. The lady from the lake filled his vision, and as he stared into her gorgeous blue eyes, Robert said, “Allow me to present my fiancée, Lady Bethany Andrews.”

  Bethany drew a sharp breath. Of course she’d agreed with Ruth that there was a chance she would meet the handsome stranger again. What she had not expected was for him to be Robert’s friend, Mr. Charles Townsbridge. She managed a smile, though she feared it did not look entirely genuine. During the course of the day, as she’d thought back on her brief encounter with him, she’d managed to convince herself that he wasn’t as dashing as she recalled and that the incendiary spark she’d felt in his presence had been a fabrication of her own wild imaginings.

  And she’d succeeded, until she’d turned to find him staring back at her. The light in his eyes and the slant of his lips had made her forget, if only briefly, that she would never discover how bright their spark might burn. Best then to stamp it out straight away which, according to Mr. Townsbridge’s current expression, had been neatly accomplished the instant Robert had announced she was his.

  Surprise had filled Mr. Townsbridge’s eyes for a second. The light there had flickered and dimmed before quickly returning, even brighter than before as he offered hasty congratulations to them both. Robert failed to notice the act, but Bethany didn’t. She saw the effort Mr. Townsbridge made to pretend he wasn’t affected. Perhaps because she too struggled to play the same game.

  Nothing had happened between them. They hadn’t even touched, except for that brief moment when he’d returned her bonnet. And that bit of contact was hardly reason for her to feel as though she’d done something wrong. And yet, as she stood here right now and faced both Robert and Mr. Townsbridge, guilt grew and expanded inside her. The two men were friends after all. But only one had managed to make her heart beat faster, and it was not the one she’d agreed to spend the rest of her life with.

  “Was New York as impressive as you believed it would be?” Mr. Townsbridge asked Robert. He’d schooled his features, making it impossible for Bethany to discern his thoughts any longer.

  “Absolutely,” Robert replied. “You should go and see it for yourself one day. There’s really no need to travel the world when every culture imaginable is represented in that one city. Here in London, all you hear spoken is English, but over there, there’s Italian, German, Spanish…I even saw people who appeared to have come from China. It was most intriguing.”

  “And did you manage to complete your business?” Mr. Townsbridge asked with interest.

  Robert nodded. “I visited the companies in which I plan to invest. All except one show promise.” He added a few additional details but kept it brief since discussing such matters in front of a lady was not deemed proper. “Then on my way back to England, I met the Earl of Pratchard and his wife, who’d been visiting family there together with their daughter.” He smiled in Bethany’s direction. “Being trapped on a ship together for a month allowed us to become better acquainted and, after some consideration, I decided to make her an offer yesterday.”

  “No wonder I hadn’t yet heard of your engagement,” Mr. Townsbridge murmured. He took a sip of his drink, his gaze fixed on his friend.

  “I plan to announce it this evening,” Robert said. “But before I do, there are a few other people I must greet. Can you please entertain Bethany while I do so? She loves to dance, and you’ve always been better at that than I.”

  “But she’s your fiancée.” Mr. Townsbridge’s voice was tight, his posture more rigid than one second ea
rlier. “You should be the one dancing with her, Robert. Not I.”

  Robert sighed. “I know. And I shall. Later. But for now, I would appreciate your help. Bethany hasn’t been out in Society before. This is her debut, and you are the only person I trust to keep her safe besides her parents.”

  “Perhaps we should return her to their company,” Mr. Townsbridge suggested, still not looking at her, and talking as if she weren’t even there.

  Bethany pressed her lips together in annoyance. “I am not a child to be coddled or kept in a box,” she said, drawing both men’s attention. “If neither of you wish to dance, then I shall simply find someone else who’s willing to oblige, which shan’t be difficult since my dance card is already half full.”

  “Let me see.” Robert said, extending his hand.

  Reluctantly, she handed over the card and watched in dismay as he crossed out two of her partners. “Mr. Frost is a decent fellow. You may dance with him if you wish, but the others are scoundrels. Charles here will take their places.”

  Bethany stared at the man she’d agreed to marry. Would he always manage her like this, reviewing her decisions and vetoing them when he did not agree?

  “What about the rest of the dances?” Mr. Townsbridge asked as he peered down at the card Robert still held. “Should you not at least claim the waltz?”

  Bethany opened her mouth to speak but Robert cut in. “She does not yet have permission to waltz.” He glanced at the doors leading back inside. “The next dance is starting.” He offered Bethany his arm, and she dutifully placed her hand upon it so he could lead her forward. But as soon as they entered the ballroom, he handed her over to Mr. Townsbridge and quickly excused himself before disappearing into the crowd.

  Bethany held on to the arm now resting beneath the palm of her hand in much the same way as she’d done with Robert’s. The only difference was that with Robert she’d felt nothing, while now…a slow pulse beat through her limbs, fanning out until her whole body hummed with awareness. She glanced at Mr. Townsbridge and found his jaw clenched. He was staring at the dance floor as if it were an arena in which he was expected to fight to the death.

  “We do not have to do this,” she said, half hoping that he would agree. The other half – the part she had to resist – longed for the experience.

  He inhaled, his nostrils flaring as a frown creased his brow. Slowly, he dropped a glance in her direction. His eyes met hers and Bethany sucked in a breath. Even now, looking almost angry, he had the power to make her toes curl and her knees turn to jelly.

  “One dance, my lady, possibly two. Because it is Robert’s wish.” And with that declaration he led her forward with elegant poise so that they could take their positions for the country dance about to begin.

  Charles’s jaw hurt from clenching too tightly. Of all the women in the world, why did Robert have to announce his engagement to the only one who’d caught his own interest?

  It would be fine, he told himself as the dancing began and she stepped toward him. He barely knew her, which meant his attraction was purely physical, and that was something he could easily vanquish.

  She placed her hand in his and a jolt of awareness passed through him.

  He’d simply find some other woman to whom he could pay his attentions.

  His stomach twisted slightly in response to that thought. At six and twenty he’d already met all the other marriageable women. But you only just met Lady Bethany, he reminded himself. Perhaps there are others who’ve yet to make themselves known.

  He held on to that hopeful prospect as he guided Lady Bethany between a row of other dancers. If he refrained from meeting her gaze, perhaps he’d forget it was she? The rapid beat of his heart and the way his skin tingled in response to her touch said otherwise.

  But no. She was Robert’s fiancée for God’s sake. They’d known each other for weeks. Had most likely enjoyed a grand romance while crossing the ocean together, kissing each other beneath the stars every night and... He closed his eyes briefly, forcing that though aside. It was wrong of him to feel jealous. Whatever this was, this fierce attraction, it had to stop. This instant.

  He dropped a look in Lady Bethany’s direction, prepared to address the issue, only to find himself wondering if he might be the only one feeling this way. After all he knew, she was madly in love with Robert, and Charles was an idiot for imaging there’d ever been a spark between them. The more he thought on that, the more he believed it must be the case. It was, in fact, what he hoped for by the time the dance ended with neither of them having spoken one word to each other. Robert deserved to be happy. He deserved to be loved for the wonderful man he was. And when he and Lady Bethany married, Charles would be thrilled on Robert’s behalf, because the alternative would be to pursue his friend’s fiancée, and that would be both dishonorable and utterly unthinkable.

  Chapter 2

  Six days had passed since Bethany met Mr. Townsbridge, and while she’d hoped to spend those days with Robert in a serious effort to establish the same kind of connection she felt with his friend, he’d apparently been too busy. This had not gone unnoticed by Bethany’s mother.

  “He ought to call on you more often,” she declared over breakfast. “During our crossing, he gave the impression that his interest in you went beyond your dowry. He was so attentive as I recall.”

  “He was on a ship, my dear,” Pratchard mumbled while reading the paper. “There was little else to divert him.”

  Bethany sighed. She believed her father was right and was further convinced of this later in the day when she met Robert at a garden party hosted by the Duke and Duchess of Hollowgate.

  “Delightful to see you again,” he said, addressing not only her but her parents as well. “You must forgive me for staying away this past week but there’s been a lot for me to catch up on after returning to England.”

  “I understand,” Pratchard said. “Perhaps evenings are better than days? We would love to see you for dinner if you can find a vacant spot in your schedule. Your parents are welcome too of course.”

  “I’ll be sure to let them know,” Robert said. “Thank you, my lord.”

  Bethany attempted a smile. “It is my understanding that a new museum displaying Viking artifacts has recently opened just outside London. I’d love to see it one day.”

  “It sounds intriguing,” Robert said. He glanced around and then suddenly raised his hand in the air as if gesturing for someone’s attention.

  Bethany sighed. He clearly hadn’t gotten her hint. Or perhaps he had and he simply did not wish to spend the day looking at archeological findings with her. Perhaps he no longer saw a reason to romance her now that she’d agreed to marry him. The disheartening thought dampened her spirits and made her want to return home instead of staying.

  But then the person Robert had gestured to joined them, and Bethany sucked in a breath. It was him again: Mr. Townsbridge, handsome as ever in a navy blue jacket and fawn-colored breeches. His expression, however, as he glanced at her briefly, was utterly inscrutable. And then he gave his attention to her parents, greeting them both politely and exchanging a few brief comments on the weather, the turnout for the party, and his longstanding friendship with Robert.

  “You recall my fiancée, of course,” Robert said next, directing Mr. Townsbridge’s attention back to Bethany.

  “Of course,” Mr. Townsbridge murmured, his eyes like burnt umber meeting hers across the distance between them. His expression revealed nothing of what he was thinking, and yet Bethany’s pulse leapt with undeniable fervor in response to his gaze.

  “Perhaps you’d be good enough to keep her company for a moment while I finish my discussion with Mr. Harlowe?” Robert suggested. He turned to Bethany’s parents. “He was apprising me of some land available for sale – a grand opportunity I’d hate to pass up.”

  Bethany’s mother flattened her mouth as if doing her best not to argue. It was clear that she believed any land the earl hoped to purchase could not be of
greater importance than spending time with her daughter. For which Bethany only loved her more, even though she was glad that her mother refrained from voicing her thoughts.

  “Of course,” Bethany’s father said with a tilt of his head. “If it’s not an inconvenience to you, Mr. Townsbridge?”

  All eyes turned to him and Bethany could not help but think that he looked like a rabbit, snared in a trap. “It would be an honor,” he said after too long a pause.

  “Excellent,” Robert declared. “I will see you again soon then.” He walked off quickly, as if their joint agreement supported his inattentiveness.

  In Bethany’s opinion, it did not. But then again, they had only been back in England a week. Perhaps she was being too hard on Robert.

  “Oh look, Henry. Baroness Fintley and her husband are over there,” Bethany’s mother said. “Shall we go and greet them?”

  Pratchard nodded. “Certainly, my dear. It’s been far too long since we had them over for dinner and cards.” He gave his attention to Bethany. “Care to join us?”

  Bethany glanced at Mr. Townsbridge. “Of course,” he said. He did not offer Bethany his arm, though he did walk beside her as they followed her parents to where the Fintleys were standing. They were keeping company with another couple who were introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Matthews. Bethany nodded and thanked them politely when they congratulated her on her recent engagement. And then the conversation turned to the prospect of a railway line being built between Stockton and Darlington and the problems caused by the fact that the proposed route would pass over Viscount Barrington’s land.

  Bethany tried to listen with interest, but since she had no information to add to the conversation and did not care overly much about property rights or the need for additional iron and steel manufacturing, she found her attention wavering. It was far more easily drawn to Mr. Townsbridge, who stood by her side, to the rich scent of sandalwood emanating from his person and how the space between them seemed to be hotter than that between her and anyone else.