The Townsbridge's Series

by Sophie Barnes

  Discreetly, she glanced up at him. His tall frame was perfectly poised, his head tilted slightly as if to convey his attention to what her father was now saying. Sunlight spilled across his cheek, adding a handsome glow to his masculine features.

  The effect was dazzling, and in spite of herself – even though she knew perfectly well she could not risk showing her interest – she could not make herself look away. The temptation to reach out and touch him, to provoke some reaction from him, turned almost unbearable. How could he stand there so seemingly immune to her, when he made her skin come alive by simply being? It fairly tingled in his presence, reminding her too acutely that any intention she’d had of forgetting about him, of denying the effect he had on her, of ensuring he never affected her again, was futile.

  As if sensing her perusal, he lowered his gaze and stared into her eyes.

  Bethany caught her breath on a sharp inhale, and her cheeks grew uncomfortably hot. She glanced away, heart pounding in her throat at the keen realization that Robert would never incite such a visceral reaction from her. With this piece of knowledge came fear and guilt. Robert was a good man, albeit a bit distant and perhaps with other priorities than her at the moment, but he was an excellent match, and even if he weren’t, she had accepted his offer of marriage. There could be no regrets since breaking off such a prominent engagement would only end one way: in scandal.

  “Would you like a reprieve from this discussion?” Mr. Townsbridge inquired.

  His voice was low, intimate, seductive. It curled around her, banishing her better judgment and causing her to nod. “I confess I do not have much interest in the subject.”

  The edge of his mouth lifted, but before it became a smile, he interrupted the conversation briefly to ask her parents if he had their permission to escort their daughter over to the refreshment table. They agreed and unlike earlier, Mr. Townsbridge offered Bethany his arm.

  She placed her hand tentatively upon it and became instantly aware of the hard, well-defined muscle that existed beneath the sleeve of his jacket. Forced to steady herself, she curled her fingers into his arm and sucked in a breath. Butterflies had now taken flight in her belly and her legs felt too weak to stand on, which wasn’t normal at all. None of this was.

  “What are your interests, if not in railroads?” Mr. Townsbridge asked as they started to walk.

  You was the first thought that came to mind.

  Instead, Bethany said, “Houses.”

  Mr. Townsbridge’s eyebrows rose. His eyes widened and his lips parted just enough to convey what could only be described as astonishment. But then, as if he was certain he must have misunderstood her, he schooled his features and nodded. “Of course. Now that you are to be married to the Earl of Langdon,” his name was pointedly spoken, “managing large households must be at the front of your mind.”

  She smiled, because she simply couldn’t help it. “That is not what I mean.” When he frowned at her, she explained, “I enjoy designing them. I’ve many sketches at home, from modest townhouses to grand estates. I’ve even considered building small homes on top of each other for the sake of saving space, though I’m not sure such an idea will ever have much success. But I like exploring different possibilities – especially those no one else has thought of.”

  He stared down at her as if she was some sort of curious puzzle no one could solve. And then he said, “You’re quite different from other young ladies.”

  She couldn’t help but grin. “I believe it’s my mother’s American influence, Mr. Townsbridge.”

  A spark of amusement lit his eyes, causing warmth to seep under her skin. Having reached the refreshment table, she glanced at it and, apparently believing she wanted a drink, he quickly provided her with a glass of lemonade. She thanked him and took a sip, savoring the tartness.

  “Do you have plans to sell some of your favorite designs?” Mr. Townsbridge asked. His voice was devoid of all humor, suggesting he meant the question in earnest and not in jest.

  Slightly startled that he, an aristocratic gentleman, would take such a dream of hers seriously, Bethany blinked. “I…um…” She took another soothing sip of her drink and tried to meet his gaze directly, only to find that she couldn’t. “I fear that will not be possible.” She attempted a laugh to brush aside her discomfort, but to her chagrin, she produced a miserable sound instead. “Countesses occupy themselves with charity work, watercolors, and embroidery. They do not involve themselves in building houses.”

  Mr. Townsbridge didn’t respond. Instead he allowed a moment of silence to fall between them, and then, as if inspired by some sudden thought, he caught her by the elbow and started steering her toward the other end of the garden. “Did Robert tell you that?” There was something in Mr. Townsbridge’s voice, a hint of tightness that caused Bethany to shiver.

  She glanced up at him in dismay, not because of his question but because it had not occurred to her until now that she’d never shared this hobby of hers with Robert. “No.” What else could she possibly say?

  “So then this preconceived notion of yours is entirely based on what you’ve seen other married ladies of the ton do.” His hand fell away from her elbow and he drew to a halt. She stopped as well and turned to face him. “Why must you share the same mold as them? Why can’t you be different?”

  Bethany snorted. “Because that is not what most gentlemen want in a wife, Mr. Townsbridge. They wish for the woman they marry to conform to certain rules, not to challenge them or possibly even break them.”

  “If it were me, I’d prefer originality, and I certainly would not want the lady I marry to conceal herself behind a mask of conventionality.” He looked at her directly, his eyes holding hers until she was tempted to avert her gaze. Instead, she boldly looked back, allowing his dark eyes to hold her captive. “I’m sure Robert shares this opinion and that he’ll support your dreams if you tell him about them. He’s a good man, my lady. I urge you to be open and honest with him, for both your sakes.”

  As if summoned by their conversation, Robert came to join them. He smiled at Bethany. “I trust my friend here has kept you entertained during my absence?”

  “Indeed, he has provided me with excellent company and conversation,” Bethany told him.

  “And as enjoyable as it has been, I fear I must now depart,” Mr. Townsbridge said. He gave his attention to Robert. “Athena’s birthday is coming up, and I’ve yet to buy her a present, but if you’ll be at White’s tonight, perhaps I’ll see you there?”

  “Definitely.” Robert shook his friend’s hand.

  Mr. Townsbridge turned to Bethany, touched the brim of his hat while effecting a brief bow. “It’s been a pleasure.” She barely managed to say, “Likewise,” before he was striding away.

  “Who’s Athena?” she asked Robert once they were alone together.

  “Charles’s youngest sister.” He chuckled and shook his head. “She’s quite the hoyden and more outspoken than anyone I’ve ever met.”

  “I respect people who speak their minds. It takes tremendous courage.”

  “Hmm…it can also lead to a heap of trouble. But I actually tend to agree.”

  Encouraged by this statement, Bethany thought of what Mr. Townsbridge had told her and said, “There’s actually something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

  A slight frown appeared on his brow. “What is it?”

  Feeling her stomach draw tight as if cinched by a cord, Bethany took a deep breath. “Do you think you might be able to help me sell some architectural drawings I’ve made?”

  His frown deepened. “Architectural drawings?”

  “Yes. I’ve quite a few, though I’ll agree that some are better than others.”

  “What an interesting hobby,” he murmured. “I dare say it’s rather unique. For a lady, that is. But to sell such pieces for the purpose of having them brought to life would be difficult if not impossible. You’d have to go up against men like John Nash and Robert Smirke, which simply isn’t
feasible.”

  “But if I show you my sketches, I’m sure you’ll agree that I’m able to match their skill.”

  “Even so, being an architect is a full-time job. I don’t see when you will find the time for it when there will be children for you to raise and a home to manage.” He smiled at her as if he had the answer to all her problems – the sort of smile that proved he did not see her at all. “Besides, to let my wife work would be quite bad form. People would talk.”

  “Of course. I should have considered that.”

  The edge of his mouth lifted. “It’s easy to forget how judgmental Society can be. Making a wrong move is far too easy. I’m glad you mentioned this to me so I could warn you.” He offered his arm and she accepted. “From now on, however, I would suggest that you spend your time on something less likely to stir things up. Like playing the piano for instance.”

  Bethany forced back a groan and let him escort her to her parents. Her life with Robert was apparently destined to be a typical Society marriage. It ought not surprise her. This was after all what she’d been raised to expect. But as the day wore on and she realized how much of herself she’d be forced to give up, she pictured Mr. Townsbridge’s face and couldn’t help asking herself if life with him might be better.

  Charles stared down at the ivory colored wedding invitation embossed with Robert’s and Bethany’s names. While he’d met Robert frequently over the past three and a half weeks since the garden party, he’d managed to avoid Lady Bethany completely by staying home during the day and refraining from putting in an appearance at other social functions. His mother was, as expected, distraught by this deliberate absence of his since she’d hoped he’d find a lady to court this Season, but to chance meeting Lady Bethany again was simply too risky.

  Especially since there could be no denying the fierce desire he felt for her. Not when the simplest touch of her hand on his arm caused a wave of heat to roll through him. Not when one glance at her lips made him desperate to know how she tasted. Not when his dreams were increasingly plagued by her presence. And not when those dreams left him aching with need when he woke.

  A shudder went through him as he read the invitation again. It involved a house party at the Langdon estate near Swindon. Guests were asked to arrive on April thirtieth, two weeks before the wedding was set to take place.

  Charles closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. He’d known it would come to this. Robert had mentioned it in passing, but to have it confirmed was something else. It brought his doubts and his fears, his inappropriate yearning for his friend’s fiancée, into very sharp focus. How was he supposed to spend two weeks in her company when no more than half an hour was enough to make him wish he’d met her first?

  He scrubbed the palm of his hand across his jaw and prayed for strength and resilience. As hard as it would be, he’d have to suppress his feelings and get through the days ahead. Even if it killed him. Setting the invitation aside, he went to ask his brothers if they were up for a game of darts.

  He found them both in the library.

  “You never win,” James said when Charles asked about the game.

  “I know,” Charles muttered, “but I enjoy the challenge of trying to beat you.” And the game would offer a welcome distraction, which was all he really cared about at the moment.

  “Very well,” William said, “but if I win, I’ll expect you to introduce me to Mrs. Baker.”

  Charles glanced up at the ceiling while considering the beautiful widow who’d recently let it be known she was seeking a protector. “I doubt you’ll be able to afford her.”

  William responded with a quelling look. “Allow me to worry about that, dear brother. As it stands, I’d give my left foot just to learn what she has to offer.”

  “Forget that,” James said. “You ought to be more concerned with what she’s expecting.”

  Charles happened to agree. It wasn’t a secret that William was still a virgin, which meant he would lack the experience a woman of Mrs. Baker’s renown would likely demand in a lover. Still… “Perhaps I can make an agreement with her, just for one night, with no obligation for her to see you again after that.”

  William made a face. He seemed to consider. “Fine,” he eventually muttered.

  “And if I win,” James said slyly, “I want your portion of Cook’s éclairs for the next week.”

  “You drive a hard bargain,” Charles said with a twist of his lips. “I’ll agree.”

  James’s eyes widened, for he knew how fond Charles was of sweets, but he refrained from commenting, for which Charles was grateful. The last thing he wanted was for him or William to suspect things weren’t as they should be, because then they’d get curious and the questions would start, and if there was one thing that all his siblings had in common, it was the ability to interrogate each other successfully.

  The game commenced on the terrace, and as usual, Charles failed to match the skill of his brothers. Still, he did enjoy the game, the camaraderie between them, the jokes they shared at each other’s expense, and the chance it gave him to forget. Until the butler arrived to announce that Robert had come to call.

  Charles left his brothers to continue the game while he went to greet his friend.

  “I need an urgent favor,” Robert said as soon as Charles entered the parlor where Robert waited. “Bethany has gotten it into her head that we’re meant to visit some Viking museum today, but I can’t for the life of me remember agreeing. So I made other plans, and now she’s in my carriage outside, and I’m not really sure what to do.”

  Charles stared at Robert and then, because he could not help himself from saying the first thing that came to mind, he blurted, “You’re an idiot.”

  Robert stared back at him. He winced slightly before admitting, “I think you might be right.”

  A grin caught Charles’s lips and a jolt of laughter rushed from his throat. He shook his head. “Your best course of action is to cancel your plans and take your fiancée on the excursion she’s expecting you to accompany her on.”

  “I rather thought I’d ask you to go in my stead.”

  “What?”

  “You’ve always liked museums more than I, and the two of you seem to get on well enough. I dare say it won’t be so bad.”

  “Are you mad?” Charles asked. Surely Robert had taken a blow to his head since the last time they’d seen each other. “Lady Bethany is your fiancée, Robert. You are the one who ought to be spending time with her, romancing her, and getting to know her better.”

  Robert gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “We have the rest of our lives for that. But my chance to invest in the businesses holding my interest and to acquire the land I want is a fleeting opportunity. My financial situation, while not exactly dire, isn’t the best.”

  “I’m sorry. I had no idea.” Charles knit his brow. “What happened?”

  Robert shrugged. “I made some poor investments and lost a great deal of money. My parents don’t know, but it’s the reason why I went to New York, and it’s the reason why I’m now pursuing these other opportunities. Our livelihoods could very well depend on whether or not my negotiations meet with success, so please, take Lady Bethany on the outing and allow me to see to my other obligations.”

  Charles pressed his lips together and crossed his arms. “I think that’s a lousy idea.”

  Robert blew out a breath. “I need to finish up with these dealings before we leave London for the house party.” He gave Charles a pleading look. “I’ll never ask you for anything else ever again.”

  Charles wasn’t sure he believed that, but to accept… He shook his head. “If you really can’t manage the outing today, then you ought to reschedule with Lady Bethany for tomorrow.”

  “She’s supposed to meet with her seamstress tomorrow so that won’t work, and the day after that I’ve other appointments, and then we’re off to the house party.”

  “Then perhaps when you return to London you could—”

&n
bsp; “Why the reluctance to help me with this, Charles?” Robert stared at him with extreme disappointment. “You’re my friend, so I was sure I could count on your help, no matter what. I have to say that your unwillingness surprises me.” He studied Charles before adding, “It also makes me wonder about your reasoning.”

  Charles’s heart jolted inside his chest. “Women like to be the center of their husband’s, or in this case, fiancé’s attention. I fear Lady Bethany won’t be pleased if I take your place.”

  “I’ve explained the matter to her and she’s fine with it,” Robert insisted. “Now will you grant me this favor or shall I turn to Craven instead?”

  Charles inhaled sharply. Robert clearly knew how to force his hand by suggesting his second cousin as an alternative. Charles had never liked the pompous dandy or the habit he had of speaking of women as if they were made for the sole purpose of pleasing men. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am desperate, Charles.”

  Charles gritted his teeth and cursed Robert for mismanaging his schedule. “Fine. I shall escort her.” And suffer the torture he’d been trying to save himself from, if only to avoid telling Robert the truth.

  Chapter 3

  Bethany was not the least bit pleased with how her day was turning out. Since accepting Robert’s proposal, she’d suggested numerous ways for them to spend time together, but he invariably managed to avoid participation. Today was no different. He’d forgotten he had a meeting, or rather, he’d forgotten he’d agreed to accompany her and had instantly suggested asking Mr. Townsbridge if he could escort her instead.

  Bethany’s pulse had leapt at the mention of the man whose mere presence was capable of tying her stomach in knots. Since the garden party, she’d unwittingly searched for him at every social event she’d attended. But he’d been absent, whether by necessity or by design, she had no idea. Either way, she’d been slightly relieved, for it had allowed her to focus more fully on Robert and the fact that she was engaged to marry him.