A knock on the door provided instant relief to the boredom of listening to her aunt’s heavy nasal breathing, and the rustling and odd muffled explosion muted by Aunt Minerva’s skirts.
Immediately Thea’s heart began to pound and she put her hand to her burning cheeks. Oh dear Lord, he’d come through like the hero he was! Mr Grayling had sent her a note!
“This was just delivered for you, Ma’am.” The little maid held out a silver salver, on which a neatly folded piece of parchment bore an elegant line of script.
Aunt Minerva was quick to pounce on it, slicing off the wax seal like a greedy child before scanning the contents, her hand cupping her breast as she turned it over and read it again. At this, she began to breathe even more heavily, fanning herself with the paper and shifting in her seat before bursting out, “Well, Thea, don’t you have some curiosity as to what might be contained in this missive?”
Thea lowered her eyes. “I was afraid you’d consider my curiosity impertinent but of course I wish nothing more than to know what has caused such agitation, Aunt Minerva.” She felt dead inside. So the note was for her aunt. Soon it would be bedtime and still Mr Grayling had not contacted her.
“I am not agitated, Thea, I am excited.” Aunt Minerva sighed loudly. “Aren’t you a girl forever misreading other people’s moods and intentions? There you were, thinking Mr Grayling was entranced enough with your pretty face to offer marriage even after I warned you a dozen times or more that a gentleman such as he needs a dowry. Well, he’s to marry Miss Huntingdon, if the gossips have their story right, and I’m sorry for it, Thea; that’s the truth, for I don’t know what’s to be done with you when you’re no longer living with me.”
Thea’s dismay at her aunt’s blithe comments regarding Mr Grayling’s marital intentions was superseded—though not eclipsed—by Aunt Minerva’s suggestion that there was a timeline in her offering Thea a roof over her head.
“What are you saying?” she gasped. “I’m no trouble, surely?” She’d not countenanced Aunt Minerva truly receiving a marriage offer. “You said I was the best nurse you’d had. You need me.” It was a bad tactic but Thea’s devastation at her own marital outlook was suddenly grievously exacerbated by the practicalities of where she might live if Aunt Minerva no longer offered her a roof. A whole day had passed since she’d seen Mr Grayling. Until this very minute, in fact, she’d held high hopes of a glorious outcome but now it appeared that not only was he was not offering her a home after all, Aunt Minerva was threatening to withdraw her support. She tried to breathe deeply as her aunt continued, placidly, “I like you well enough, my girl, but I don’t need you.”
Something died inside Thea. If her aunt no longer needed her, who did? What value was she to anyone? She might be hard working and pliable and, at the moment in her youthful prime, but without a penny to her name, she was not only worthless, but a complete encumbrance.
Her aunt read her message again and a broad grin lit up her face. She turned to Thea, lips pursed as if weighing up whether to divulge a great secret. Finally she leaned back in her chair and gave a great sigh. “So here is how matters stand. Mr Grayling is marrying Miss Huntingdon and you’ve received an offer from Dr Horne which you’ll be obliged to accept since I really can’t see that Mr Granville will wish to start married life with the responsibility of a flighty chit like you under our roof.”
“Mr Granville’s asked you to marry him?!”
Her aunt sent Thea a warning look. “No need to sound so shocked. And no, the offer has not been put in so many words, however he has intimated as much. First there was his enigmatic presence at the masquerade, designed to whip up my pique, and now this, his suggestion of an assignation.” She tapped the piece of parchment and looked smug. “When shall we invite Dr Horne to tea so you may put an end to his waiting? Really, the poor man is getting quite impatient. He was attending to me earlier when you were out and was quite plaintive about his concerns. I told him you were selecting your trousseau, for really, he was quite upset there was a chance you might refuse him.”
“You had no right to tell him a lie!”
“Well, Thea, you can’t afford to miss out on this opportunity. I was doing you a favour. The truth is, I’ve spent the past twenty years regretting the opportunity I turned down through my poor timing in rejecting Mr Granville.” Aunt Minerva folded the parchment and tucked it between her ample breasts. “Perhaps you can give Mr Horne your acceptance just before we go to the celebration for little George tomorrow. I shall request the good doctor come to my apartments to massage my legs, as I fancy I may have a little walking to do.” She clicked her tongue. “Goodness! Your cousin and her propensity for staging events outdoors that require a body to move will be the death of me. And did you know that Lady Quamby has insisted on the novelty of having a hot-air balloon? I can’t imagine a more ridiculous notion than rising above the earth in a basket.” She leaned forward, offering Thea a confronting view of her impressive bosom. “Did you know I once was forced to jump onto a footstool when a mouse ran across the room?” She leaned back with a self satisfied smile. “Well, that’s as high as I’m prepared to go to save my life. Hot-air balloons? That’s for adventurers who care nothing other than making the general public ooh and aah at their daring. Transient celebrity and nothing more! Now, how about a game of chequers?”
Chapter 21
AT last the day had arrived: the moment the child of a lowly Brightwell was officially acknowledged by the rest of the world as the heir to an earl.
Antoinette linked arms with her sister as they stood on the balcony and gazed at the enormous, colourful hot-air balloon that was slowly being inflated at the bottom of the grassy slope.
“Hasn’t it all worked out so well?” She gave a happy sigh and dabbed at her eyes with a piece of lawn. “Who’d have thought I’d give birth to a little chap destined for such greatness? Quamby is over the moon to have the heir he thought he would never have. I overheard him promising his special friend of the moment, Francis Rind, that he’d take him on a journey to the moon to visit his heart’s desire in that horrible looking hot-air balloon.”
“To the moon? Well, I’m glad they’re happy. And I’m glad you’re happy.” On one level she shared Antoinette’s satisfaction that the two of them had done so well in the marriage stakes—she, through cunning and careful orchestration, and Antoinette through pure luck. She sighed. “I’m sorry we failed Thea.”
“Yes, the poor darling. We gave them every opportunity, though, didn’t we?” Antoinette squinted at the busy scene that accompanied the erection of the balloon. Tiny figures seemed to be scurrying everywhere, securing ropes to the basket while the canopy slowly grew, soon becoming enormous. Antoinette’s tone changed from wistful to despairing as she turned back to her sister. “But even when Thea and Mr Grayling were pushed together in the coach and finally declared their true feelings and realised they each loved one another, it appears by his silence that Mr Grayling simply couldn’t accept that they’d be happy without money, and I’m afraid I do agree with him. I just wish Thea didn’t feel she has no option but to marry Dr Horne.”
Fanny jerked her head around. “She can’t make such a decision. Not yet, anyway! Of course there are other options! Bertram, tell me Thea has other options than to marry Dr Horne,” she appealed to her brother, who’d just stepped out of the first-floor drawing room and onto the balcony.
Bertram ran his hands through his hair and adjusted his stock. He looked extremely agitated and Fanny wondered if he was about to confess to another loss at the gaming tables. She hoped not. Her lovely husband Fenton was the most patient and darling of men but even he was beginning to show more than the usual irritation at having to bail out her brother so frequently.
Finally Bertram managed to find the words that had eluded him as he grew increasingly red-faced and—which was even more concerning—elusive and cryptic. “Cousin Thea is not going to marry Dr Horne if George Bramley has anything to do with it.” He r
an his hands down his loud red and gold striped waistcoat.
“What are you saying?” his two sisters cried; and as he took a step back towards the double doors, Fanny had the very real fear that the mention of George Bramley’s name meant that Bertram was about to furnish them with something even worse than his gaming losses.
Bertram swallowed. He truly looked like a man facing the gallows as he continued to address them with lowered eyes. “I thought I could fix everything and make it right.” He began to pace, now running his hands up and down his pantaloons. “But truth is, I don’t know what to do.”
“What are you talking about, Bertram? Make what right? And what has this to do with George Bramley?” Antoinette sounded panicked as she gripped the balcony railing.
Bertram stopped and looked at her despairingly. “I tried to make Cousin Thea appear an enticing proposition to Mr Grayling—”
“Yes, by telling him she was dying. Well, that didn’t work out, did it?” Fanny’s tone was disparaging.
Bertram shook his head. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about afterwards, the other night when I tried to suggest a wager whereby Grayling would propose to Cousin Thea in a hot-air balloon. Well, before I knew it, someone had suggested that as they’d seen Cousin Thea slap George Bramley’s face, then that ought to be the wager, as under such adverse circumstances it’d be so unlikely that a union between Thea and George Bramley would come to pass.”
“Thea slapped Bramley’s face?” Antoinette clapped her hands. “How perfectly marvellous,” she crowed, but Fanny frowned. “So the wager is for George Bramley to entice Thea into the hot-air balloon tonight and propose marriage? That’s ridiculous.”
Bertram looked a touch confused. He opened his mouth to speak then shut it again as he clearly reconsidered. Fanny pounced, her tone suspicious. “Tell us exactly the terms of this wager. The more we know, the more we can protect Thea.”
Bertram scratched his cheek and screwed up his face, apparently trying to recall. Dear Lord, could her brother not be trusted to get the simplest details right? “George Bramley has wagered Lord Darington seven hundred pounds that he—George, that is—will somehow manage to encourage Miss Brightwell to step into a hot air balloon and fly away with her. And another seven hundred if—”
He shut his mouth quickly and raised his eyes to the sky, unable—or refusing—to continue with what he was about to say until Fanny threatened she’d tell their mother about his interest in the opera dancer he’d declared he intended to marry one night while in his cups.
Bertram’s shoulders slumped. Gloomily he went on, “And George Bramley has made another wager that Miss Brightwell will...”
When he trailed off, both his sisters began to heckle him until he threw his hands in the air and cried, “Propose marriage but not only that, George Bramley has also bet Lord Darington that nine months later Miss Brightwell will joyfully give birth to a…child.”
“Well, she’s unlikely to give birth to anything else,” Fanny muttered before shaking her head and adding, “Good lord, Bertram, do you mean to tell me you really began all this wager nonsense?”
“I didn’t initiate any of those wagers!” Bertram defended himself. “The idea was completely taken out of my hands. You know I only wanted to help cousin Thea.”
“Well, I think cousin Thea needs Antoinette’s and my help right now. Clearly George Bramley has an evil plan, though I cannot imagine how he intends to carry it off.”
“You don’t think he can?” Bertram asked, hopefully.
Fanny tried to look more confident than she felt. “How can he possibly when there are so many people milling around the estate, getting things organised for the grand event, which is even now beginning?” The wager was preposterous. Thea would never willingly step into a hot-air balloon with George Bramley. Besides, Fanny would make sure she was by her side every minute of the festivities.
Antoinette nodded. “Even if he kidnaps her I don’t know how he’d manage it. Thea is quick. She’d scream and struggle. There’d be too many witnesses. Goodness, but George Bramley is a very stupid man.” She frowned, then added, “Besides, why would George want to marry Thea if he only had seven hundred pounds to gain? Or fourteen, even?”
Fanny was about to blithely agree to this when a look of horror crossed her face. “Oh, I think George would consider he’d gained a great deal more than just seven hundred pounds. Just think! If he compromised Thea so she in fact did feel she had to marry him, then he’d have secured the most wonderful revenge on us, wouldn’t he? Imagine how he could play us—blackmail us—to ensure Thea’s continued happiness. Well, she’d never be happy but I mean…he’d make a sport of making her even more unhappy, just to spite us.” She raised her eyes heavenward then said on a more pragmatic note, “Well, at least we know what George is up to. Now we just have to keep Thea close by to know she’ll be safe from his sinister designs.”
She was about to pass George to go inside when she hesitated on the threshold, turning to her siblings to ask with sudden dread, “By the way, where is Thea?”
As the three siblings went in search of Thea, seemingly hundreds of guests were strolling about the beautifully landscaped gardens, standing in clusters to watch preparations for the ascent of the balloon from afar, or gossiping in groups.
“She’s not here!” Fanny tried not to show her concern as she passed through knots of people, Antoinette having been held up by a garrulous admirer along the way.
“You don’t really think George Bramley could succeed in something so outrageous, do you?” Panic cut through the insouciance Bertram was going to such pains to cultivate as he stumbled along in Fanny’s wake.
“I wouldn’t put anything past Mr Bramley,” Fanny muttered, doggedly parting the crowd before adding on a sigh of relief, “Thank goodness, there she is!” as she rushed forward. “Thea, I’ve been so worried about you. Are you all right, dearest? You look so sad.”
“I am so sad,” Thea sniffed, pointing across a stretch of lawn to where a couple was walking at a sedate pace along the gravel path. Immediately Fanny recognized the tall, handsome figure of Mr Grayling and, at his side, Thea’s slight, pretty but infinitely less appealing rival.
“I know he loves me and I certainly love him but he’s going to ask Miss Huntingdon to marry him,” Thea told her cousin in a small voice. “During the carriage ride he said he’d have to speak to his man of business to see if it were at all possible that matters might be arranged whereby a union between us might not be ruinous to his family. But here he is tonight and he’s not even spoken to me. So I can only assume that he’s received confirmation that it is as he feared all along. He needs a wife with a dowry and now he’s about to propose to Miss Huntingdon. Do you think that’s what he’s doing right now?”
“Lord, no!” exclaimed Bertram. “He’d at least wait until tomorrow. Or until he’d spoken to you. Besides, Miss Huntindgon doesn’t hold a candle to you, and that’s the truth!”
Thea hiccupped on a sob. “That’s hardly of any account, but thank you, Bertram. Miss Huntingdon has a handsome dowry and is mad for him, and of course Mr Grayling is no different from me in wanting to make a decent match that will secure his future. I just can’t offer him what he needs to make him happy.”
“Oh, Thea, if I only had the means to change it, I would.” It was rare for Fanny to feel so helpless. “Do you really think he’d be so unheroic as to speak to Miss Huntingdon so quickly?”
Thea nodded. “I told him that’s what he must do.”
“What?” Fanny and Bertram looked at her in horror.
“What else could I say?” Thea choked on another little sob. “He might love me but I’d be a drain on his purse. He was very chivalrous in the carriage when his passions were aroused that he would get an answer from his man of business. But in the clear light of day one must be persuaded by practicalities. Certainly, Mr Grayling would be able to provide for me, but he couldn’t for the rest of his relatives and i
f he and I had a large family. And you know how much I long for a large family. Yet how cruel it would be to put a daughter into the situation I’m in. I realised that and so I told him he should ask for Miss Huntingdon’s hand if it wasn’t practical to marry me.” She pointed to the pair, deep in conversation by the bushes. “Yes, I’m certain that’s what he’s doing right now, though I confess that when that note was delivered late last night, my heart did leap with the hope that it might be from Mr Grayling and that he might be telling me he’d changed his mind and that he’d propose to me, instead. After all, I don’t mind if we don’t have money. I’m used to it.”
She would have gone on, only Fanny stopped her. “What note, Thea? Did someone deliver you a note?”
“No, not to me, it was to Aunt Minerva. I don’t know what was in it but it was addressed to her, and she would have me believe that Mr Granville had invited her to meet him for some secret assignation, which is why she’ll soon no longer be able to offer me a home and I therefore must accept Dr Horne’s marriage offer.” Tearfully she added, “So that is what I’m going to do. I’m going to accept Dr Horne tonight, as Aunt Minerva has invited him to attend to her after the christening celebrations are over and that is what she’s said I must do if Mr Grayling hasn’t proposed—which, I have now accepted, he will not.”
“You will do nothing of the sort!” Fanny and Bertram spoke in emphatic unison.
Fanny pushed back her shoulders. “It’s one thing to lose out on the love of your life but quite another to marry someone you have absolutely no feelings for.” She bit her lip, before adding thoughtfully, “This note, though, sounds awfully odd. Are you sure it was from Mr Granville? I thought I saw him earlier talking to a young lady and her mother. Mr Granville is very dashing, I admit, but I have never seen anything to suggest he has a secret tendre for Aunt Minerva.”
“No, but she’s received letters from him before that make her go very flushed in the cheeks, so it must be true.” Thea turned. “I really don’t think I can bear watching Mr Grayling and his soon-to-be betrothed for much longer. Do you mind if I make my excuses and retire to my room, or…?” Her face lit up. “Perhaps I could go to the nursery and play with little Katherine and George?”
Rogue's Kiss (Scandalous Miss Brightwell Book 2) Page 21