To Romance a Scoundrel

by Rosie Wynter

  It was as the luggage was being taken from the main hallway to the carriage, that Grace came down the staircase, assisted by her friend. Seeing her sister looking so pale sent an ache to Claire’s heart. She had been quick to agree to her aunt’s demands to leave, but that did not mean she took pleasure in it. Claire felt a wave of stinging disappointment come over her, however, she bit her tongue. After having agreed, so readily, to leave Holdenwood Manor, it would be unseemly for her to suddenly change course and make grand declarations about how she wanted to stay. She struggled against herself as her elder sister descended the stairs. Yet, Claire was to be undone. Despite her best efforts to the contrary, she could not pretend that leaving Holdenwood Manor or her sister was what she wanted.

  In an instant, Claire abandoned her trunks and luggage, and half ran over to Grace. She threw her arms about her sister and held on tight, burying her face into her neck so that none could see her pained expression.

  “Grace, I am so very sorry for everything that happened. I know you’re disappointed with me for… well, everything that has happened. I know you must hate me after the way I treated Lord Dalton and the scandal I almost caused at the assembly. I… I know we might never agree on matters of the heart and where my affections lie, but I do not want this parting to be a banishment. Please, promise me you will write?”

  “Oh Claire, you silly thing! Of course I will write to you, every day. I know that things have been uneasy between us since the unpleasantness with Mr Hawkins, but do not think that, or anything else, will ever come in the way of my love for you.” Grace kissed her sister’s forehead, content to hold her for as long as Claire needed.

  “And, do not think my hiding away in my room has been solely to avoid you. I will admit, I was very angry after the incident at the assembly, but I didn’t take to my bed out of mere spite. I fear that as the blessed day of my child’s arrival nears, I am becoming less and less able to provide good company. I am constantly tired and am just longing to be able to resume a normal life once my child is born. So, do not go spilling out all this drama from your stupid books. I am not driving you out of Holdenwood Manor, nor is there any hidden conspiracy to distance myself from you… I just need peace and quiet.”

  Grace disengaged from the embrace and lifted Claire’s chin, forcing her younger sister to look into her eyes. Claire could tell by one look into her sister’s face, that everything she had been told was the truth. While Grace did not appear at all unwell, there was the suggestion of fatigue written on her face, told in the dark lines around her eyes.

  “Perhaps you could indulge me in one thing though, while you are in London?” Grace ventured her question in a quiet, almost uncertain voice.

  “Yes, sister, anything.”

  “I know your love of reading, and you doubtless know all the best booksellers in London. Could you look out for some books suitable for the child? I fear that the library here, although so well stocked, has nothing that would interest any child… picture books, story books. I hear the brothers Grimm have recently been publishing stories for children, based on folklore. I will leave it to you.”

  “Are you sure? You would leave me to choose books for your child?” Claire looked at her sister with astonishment. “Given the manner in which you have spoken against the effects that stories have had on me, I would have thought you would wish to keep all fiction away from your child for as long a time as possible.”

  “I am not against all fiction, sister.” Grace laughed and held her arms out for a last embrace. “Find me some good tales and let me worry about when my baby has too much fiction in their life. You know I would not trust anyone else with this task.”

  Claire had something positive on which to dwell, rather than focussing on that which had happened. The thought of sourcing a library of children’s stories and fables for her soon-to-be niece or nephew was a most exciting prospect. It gave her a sense of agency and purpose that she had been sorely lacking in the days after Mr Hawkins’ and Lord Dalton’s departures from her life. Although buying books was hardly going to distract her entirely from the troubles plaguing her life, she could at least lessen the pain by throwing herself into her new task. However, Claire was not insensible to the broader connotations and deeper meanings surrounding her sister’s request.

  It would have been nice to believe that Grace was genuinely seeking Claire’s opinion and eye for good literature by having her source books for her child. Still, Claire was not blind. She knew well enough when her sister was trying to keep her distracted through some elaborate chore or labour. She was quite certain this task was exactly that – a distraction invented to keep her mind from lingering on thoughts of her lost poet – and the earl she had driven away. This would not stop Claire from completing the task her sister had assigned to her, but she was nevertheless disappointed that Grace would try to distract her with so obvious a scheme.

  After her return to London, life with Aunt Lynch returned to a sedate pace. The Duchess of Lynch ensured that Claire was not allowed to attend any functions or to venture out into the city without being accompanied by her. Instead, Claire was forced to endure much time indoors. Under normal circumstances, that would have suited her. She would have immersed herself in a novel or some poetry, but as the days dragged by, she began itching to be out in society. She had not forgotten her hope of re-establishing a link with the man who had confessed his love to her.

  Eventually, Claire hit upon a means of asking after her poet without having to find a way past her aunt’s guard. Remembering her promise to her sister, and knowing Mr Hawkins’ own love of books, Claire decided to throw herself into the business of sourcing collections of fables and other books that Grace might want to read to her newborn. True, she worked diligently, ensuring that only the best books were purchased, but she always kept an ear out for information on Mr Hawkins, as well as a weather eye on the shop doors. Though she did not know for certain where Lady Helen had sequestered herself after the drama, she knew the lady would have to return to London eventually. So, unless the elderly dowager had decided to cut ties with him completely, it was also inevitable that Mr Hawkins would return to the city before too long.

  To Claire’s dismay, her enquiries after new poets in the city yielded little fruit. The shopkeepers and book printers she visited professed to know nothing of a Mr Hawkins or his work. A few offered to pass on any information if they heard anything, but Claire had to decline. If one of these more helpful informants were to bring the matter to her aunt’s attention, Claire knew she would be in greater trouble than she had been hitherto. Indeed, it was risky enough asking anything at all about Mr Hawkins when her aunt insisted on accompanying Claire on all her outings. Claire only dared to ask shopkeepers anything about her poet when she knew her aunt was distracted and stood far from her. Despite these precautions, though, it was not long before Claire realised how difficult it was to sneak around her aunt.

  The pair were perusing the shelves of The Temple of the Muses, and while looking at the children’s literature, Aunt Lynch interrupted Claire. “I know that your sister has tasked you with finding suitable literature for the baby, but I am not blind. I have noted how you keep enquiring after new poets, particularly those writing in the Romantic style… and recently returned from a Grand Tour.”

  Claire tried to look completely taken aback by her aunt’s implication but was not able to conceal her expression completely. Aunt Lynch let out a sigh at the reaction. She turned her head and gazed towards the store’s impressive central atrium. “Perhaps we could put aside book hunting for a little while and go take tea in the place opposite us. I think it is time we had a little talk.”

  Claire nodded but said nothing. She sucked in a breath as though preparing to be submerged under water. She was quite certain tea would be an interminable affair. No doubt, her sharp-eyed aunt would gloat at having noticed Claire’s little game. Aunt Lynch liked to laud such things over her nieces, as personal triumphs. Even as they exited the sh
op with promises of returning later, Claire could feel the smirk forming on her aunt’s face.

  Once outside, Aunt Lynch took Claire by the arm.

  “My dear, do not think me so dim-witted that I am not aware of what you are about. I can assure you that you will not find Mr Hawkins in such a manner… and I can also assure you that he will not be contacting you, either in person or through a letter. Lady Helen has taken it upon herself to vet all of the post entering her house, and indeed, she has instructed her servants to vet the post that Mr Hawkins receives at his lodgings.”

  Claire’s expression was crestfallen. She had guessed already that sending a letter to Mr Hawkins would be a fool’s errand, but it still hurt to have her suspicions confirmed. Her hopes of locating Mr Hawkins, of fixing in her own mind her feelings towards him, had been dashed by the actions of two older women.

  “Are my actions and intentions so obvious to you?” Claire asked. “Just how long have you known about my asking after the man in the bookshops?”

  Aunt Lynch gently steered Claire towards the tearooms, guiding her niece to a vacant table as she continued her topic.

  “Claire, you must remember that both Lady Helen and I are experienced in matters of the heart. We both know and understand the various schemes and artifices employed by those in the pursuit of love… because we have employed them ourselves in years gone by. Add to this the fact that I have guided both of your sisters with success in finding suitable husbands–”

  ‘But–” Claire was about to interrupt, but her aunt quickly pushed on.

  “Well, I know that your elder sister ultimately made her own way, ignoring my advice and sailing to the Americas, but from the letters we have received, there is no doubt that she is happy and settled. So, perhaps I can count that as a success.”

  “So, what is to be done?” Claire asked, her voice a little more eager. “You’ve always said the reason for my staying with you and under your care is to find a suitable husband. But, if you are to refuse to let me speak with the one man who has made me an offer, then I fear you are undoing your own work.”

  “The key word was ‘suitable’,” Aunt Lynch replied with a slight smile. “For all your poet’s talent and charm, you must own that he does not satisfy the title of ‘suitable husband’ to a girl such as yourself. Indeed, from his background, I do not think he is much of a prospect for any gentleman’s daughter.”

  “I won’t try to argue with you, Aunt,” Claire promised. “I know full well that I would be wasting my breath trying to make you see Mr Hawkins’ finer points. I admit, you have seen through my attempts to seek news and information about him… please let us order some tea first.”

  Aunt Lynch shook her head, lips curled upward. She did as her niece suggested and called over the serving girl.

  A few minutes later, the two women were presented with a pot of tea and a selection of sweet cakes. Aunt Lynch took her time sipping the liquid. She seemed quite content to drag out the pause in the conversation, perhaps wishing to give Claire reason to squirm in her chair. Knowing her aunt’s tricks well enough, Claire decided to remain silent. She was more than happy to wait her aunt out.

  “Well then…” the Duchess of Lynch put down her cup. “What are we going to do with you, my dear?”

  “Knowing you, dear Aunt, I am certain you already have a plan,” Claire observed. She looked out through the window towards the bookshop. Even now, her eyes were scanning the streets carefully, looking for signs of the man she needed to see again.

  “I believe, at this juncture, that our best course of action is to return you to society.”

  Claire sucked in a breath, and her eyes narrowed as she looked at her aunt. “Return me to society? Of all the things I had expected you to say, that was certainly not amongst them. I would have thought your plans would involve locking me in the tallest tower, as punishment for my transgressions.”

  “That’s your fairy-tale-addled mind coming to the fore again,” the duchess laughed, not seeming at all troubled that her niece had just cast her as the villainous jailor. “The way I see it, getting you back into society once more, so that you may meet young men of circumstance and good standing, is the best thing for you right now. If I were to lock you away, your stubborn streak would continue pining for that poet of yours, and I would never hear the end of it. At least by putting you back amongst the young men of London, there is a chance of shifting your heart onto another man.”

  Aunt Lynch took a sip from her second cup of tea, and an irritating smile spread over her face. “And, of course, if I am looking to punish you, best I make you do something I know you find intolerable.”

  Claire opened her mouth, thinking to make some remark that might give her aunt pause to reconsider her plans. However, at the last moment, she bit her tongue and reigned in her emotions. Logic took over, and she weighed up her options.

  “If you wish me to step back out into society, then I will oblige you. However, I feel I should speak plainly and tell you that I am not going to look to flirt or compliment men at such parties, just to make you happy.”

  “It is not as if you were ever that helpful before we went to Holdenwood Manor,” Aunt Lynch replied archly. “Have you forgotten that the very reason we went to your sister’s was to avoid the unpleasantness caused by your insulting young men of good fortune at such parties?”

  Claire felt a slight tinge of colour rise to her cheeks. If she was honest with herself, she had indeed forgotten all the misdemeanours and cross words she had exchanged with young bachelors in the past. Under the table, her hands fidgeted as she tried to maintain a neutral expression.

  “Anyway, now that summer is ending and the great and the good begin to return to the city, we must capitalise on things. Hopefully, those young men you insulted in the spring will have moved on and forgotten their grudges. There are a few society balls and soirées coming up. I believe there are a few concerts as well.”

  “At least the concerts will be to my liking,” Claire said, trying to show some optimism. She immediately regretted it however, as she noticed the suspicious look it garnered.

  “Of course, I am adamant that under no circumstances are you to be left unchaperoned, even for a minute, no matter how imploring a prospective suitor might be. That was your undoing in Holdenwood Manor. In times past, I have been far too trusting of you, and your sisters before you, I might add. This time around, I will bring someone along who will be sure to keep you in their sights the entire evening through. I will not have you sneaking away when I am talking with my friends or playing cards.”

  Claire thought for a moment, taking her time to drain the rest of her cup as she considered the prospect before her. It seemed Aunt Lynch had finally learned the value of caution, and Claire was certain her personal liberties would be heavily curtailed at any event to which her aunt took her. Even so, it was just possible that the very parties and events her aunt planned to send her to, would offer her an opportunity to gain news of Mr Hawkins. Aunt Lynch and Lady Helen both tread in the highest echelons of society, where everyone knew everyone, and no one’s business was private. Surely, amongst such folk, Claire would hear at least something of Lady Helen’s actions, and perhaps learn where in the country she had taken Mr Hawkins.

  Try as she might, Claire could not think of any other means through which she might hear word of the poet, especially after the discovery that her aunt was aware of her plying the booksellers for news.

  “At least the presence of such a woman” Claire said, “will no doubt deter the types of men with whom I do not wish to have to contend.”

  Chapter 13

  A new round of parties, dinners, and concerts took over Claire’s life once more. It felt as if things had returned to the way they were before she had visited her sister, before the madness and heartache that had ensued there. In some small measure, Claire found herself glad to return to the rigmarole of meeting eligible bachelors and politely listening to them speak about their businesses
and bland, banal interests. There was something easy about it. Quiet peace and certainty took over Claire’s heart, as she met with young men in whom she knew she would never be interested. Indeed, as she listened to them drone on about their humdrum and disinteresting lives, she wondered how she had ever found such men so objectionable. It really was easy to tune out their words and boasts, and she realised she had never needed to react to them as she had done in the past. As long as she showed a polite indifference, that was usually enough to turn such men away.

  During the first week of events, Claire put every effort into obeying her aunt’s edicts precisely. Even when she was in company that might provide the information she sought about Mr Hawkins, she reigned herself in and made sure to ask none of the questions that were in her heart. Mrs Mullins, one of Aunt Lynch’s most trusted maidservants, acted as her chaperone and was nearby at all times. Claire liked the woman, as she never asked questions or delved too deeply into Claire’s private affairs. Still, Claire knew she had to be cautious and careful not to raise any suspicion. She felt certain that if she could only bide her time, behave exactly as expected, and wait for two or maybe three weeks, then her aunt’s withering gaze would turn away from her, and she would be able to begin again, more unobserved.

  In her head, Claire had anticipated that it would be hard to find information about Mr Hawkins. She expected such a thing could only be accomplished by making friends with some of the younger women who might have known Lady Helen, gaining their confidence and trust. As the news of her late-night rendezvous with the poet had never become public knowledge, there was little chance of anyone knowing her true past with the man or her motivations for enquiring after him. Becoming an ally of one of the young debutants in the highest circles and finding out where Mr Hawkins now resided should have been an easy thing.