Courting the Country Miss

by Hatch, Donna

  After five daughters, a son would be a blessing for Papa, not to mention that an heir would keep the property in the immediate family and assure the family line. And yet…

  “Why must you stay in bed?”

  Her mother put a hand over her stomach as if cradling the unborn child. “Due to my age, and after losing the last one, we can’t be too cautious.”

  Leticia’s mouth went dry. She leaned in, touching her mother’s hand. “Are you in danger?”

  “Oh, good heavens, no. Well, you know, not any more than normal—merely a precaution to help the baby not come too soon.”

  Leticia gave her mother’s hand a squeeze. How Mama endured childbirth all those times posed a mystery. “So, since you cannot accompany Isabella, are we to cancel the trip?”

  “Of course not. Isabella will go to Town this Season—she’s the perfect age and besides, we’ve already let a house in Town.”

  “Then you want me to be her chaperone.”

  Mama choked on her tea. “Leticia, I wonder about you sometimes, I really do. You aren’t old enough to be a proper chaperone. Believe it or not, you aren’t as long in the tooth as you seem to think.” Her eyes twinkled.

  Leticia spread her hands in a helpless gesture, warming at the indirect assurance she wasn’t a complete spinster—a silly thought, since she no longer wished to marry. Spinsterhood lay in her future regardless of her wishes. “What do you plan to do?”

  “Aunt Alice offered to chaperone Isabella in my place on one condition; she wants you to go, too. She insists that sisters always make a bigger splash than one girl. She’s still crowing about how both your older sisters received proposals when she launched them together four years ago.”

  “She wants me to go, too?” Leticia’s thoughts tumbled. “But my wardrobe is unfit for a Season in London. Papa already explained he cannot bear the cost of a wardrobe for me in addition to Isabella, especially since I’ve already other Seasons.” Her face warmed at the reminder that, while her older sister married after one Season, Leticia had not received a proposal in two. That might have been because everyone thought she and Richard had an understanding…or perhaps she was even plainer and less interesting than she supposed.

  It didn’t matter. She had a school to which she planned to devote her life and her energy. She didn’t need a husband or children to make her feel worthwhile.

  Mama’s voice broke into her thoughts. “I’ve given some thought to your wardrobe issue. I think if we make over your best gowns from two years ago, we’ll manage. Perhaps not quite as spectacular as a London modiste, but I’m sure if we study the latest La Belle Assemble engravings, our own town dressmaker can modify yours and come close to something fashionable.”

  “I suppose she could,” Leticia conceded. She need only look fashionable enough not to embarrass her sister in front of London’s grande dames.

  “If we make over a few of Isabella’s things, too, we ought to be able to get you at least one ball gown from London.”

  “Mama, that’s not necessary. Make Isabella’s gowns the very finest. Mine aren’t important. I won’t be going to London to search for a husband, I’ll be going to satisfy Aunt Alice’s stipulations…and to help with our cause.”

  “Cause? Ah, of course—the school.” A mysterious gleam entered Mama’s eye. “Then you must look fashionable if you are to garner some commitments from those who have deep pockets.”

  “My relationship with Lady Averston will help with that. A duke’s daughter who marries an earl has few doors closed to her.”

  “Thanks in some part to you, I think.”

  Leticia toyed with her napkin. “Certainly not. Her reticence adds to her charm, and she’s toasted as a beauty everywhere she goes. Everyone admires her.”

  “I know all about how you helped quell the rumors regarding the origin of her betrothal to Lord Averston. That was most admirably done, dearest.”

  Her mother smiled with such fondness that a lump rose to Leticia’s throat. She had tried, whenever possible, to protect the couple from rumor but not for the unselfish reasons Mama supposed.

  As guilt wagged its finger, Leticia glanced at her mother. “I did it for Richard, not for Lady Elizabeth. At least, not entirely.”

  “Still, both benefited.”

  Leticia nodded. “Well worth the effort if it spared Richard any discomfort. Besides, it led to a partner in my venture for the school and to an unexpected friendship with Lady Elizabeth—er, Lady Averston.”

  Who would have thought she’d become friends with the very girl whose actions had torn Richard away from her? Still, she couldn’t truly blame Elizabeth; Tristan’s allure had spiraled into the stuff of legends. Few could resist his shocking good looks and silver tongue. The scoundrel.

  Then again, no one knew the real Tristan, not the way Leticia did. Why did that knowledge make her feel smug?

  Isabella and Maranda came in together, both fresh and bright as spring daisies. The one Wentworth daughter blessed with raven hair, Isabella wore it down in long curls in the back with the sides swept back, and it showered in glorious array around her trim figure. Two years Isabella’s junior, Maranda had tried to duplicate Isabella’s coiffure, but her lighter brown hair lacked the thickness to succeed. The youngest sister of the Wentworth brood, Maranda had come out this week, a maneuver Leticia suspected had more to do with allowing her to attend this house party with the family than her age. Beforehand, Maranda had shed stormy tears about being left behind. Though Mama worried the family would receive criticism for having three daughters out at the same time, no one had voiced disapproval.

  Leticia exchanged greetings with her sisters as they served themselves from the dishes laid out on the sideboard table. Other guests entered, their chattering filling the breakfast room and ending any personal conversation. While the others gossiped, Leticia fell silent, content to listen.

  Maranda blurted out, “Mama, why can’t I go to London, too? I don’t expect to do everything with you; I know it’s Isabella’s moment to shine so I won’t expect to attend all the balls and soirees as she, but I cannot abide remaining behind in the country while the rest of you go off and enjoy all those parties and soirees musicales and everything else without me.”

  Leticia and Isabella smiled at each other over Maranda’s head. Isabella held up three fingers. She had wagered Maranda would bring up that old complaint during the house party at least five times. Leticia had hoped her youngest sister would be mature enough to limit her complaints to two.

  Mama patted Maranda’s hand and cast a meaningful look at the others filling the breakfast room. “For now, rest assured, you shall not be abandoned.”

  “But—”

  Mama raised her hand. “That’s all I will say on the matter for now.”

  Maranda opened her mouth again but Leticia sent her a quelling look. Maranda closed her mouth with a snap and sat pouting. “I always get left behind.”

  “Not for this house party, you didn’t,” Leticia reminded her.

  Maranda sighed. “True. That would have been intolerable.”

  A footman walked by with a steaming pot in one hand. “Chocolate, anyone?”

  Maranda perked up. “Yes, please.”

  Her mood brightened by the cup of chocolate, she clearly forgot her pique and began conversing with the others again.

  Leticia smiled at Isabella again, then excused herself from breakfast and went off in search of Elizabeth whom she hadn’t yet seen this morn. An early riser, Elizabeth had probably gone for a walk. Or maybe she’d wandered into the music room where a harp resided. As Leticia meandered through the rooms, the faint, heavenly strains of a harp sang to her as sweetly as a dream. A pity her family didn’t own one; Leticia had always wanted to learn to play but harps were far too extravagant a purchase. She’d had to make do on their old pianoforte.

  Following the sweet strains, Leticia pushed open a door to the drawing room partitioned off to make a smaller music room.

 
Elizabeth painted a lovely picture, her graceful hands fluttering over the harp strings, her face serene. Her emerald morning gown swept around her, moving as her feet made adjustments to the pedals at the base of the harp each time she played an accidental or key change. Leticia stilled, hardly daring to breathe lest she give away her presence. Leaning against the doorframe, Leticia closed her eyes and immersed herself in the music, imagining a garden where fairies danced with butterflies and flowers nodded in approval.

  The music stopped. Elizabeth’s voice rang with surprise. “Leticia. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  Opening her eyes, Leticia smiled. “I knew you’d stop if I gave away my presence.”

  Her cheeks pink, Elizabeth moved the pedals into their natural position and leaned the harp forward until it rested on its feet. Standing, she shook her head. “Shame on you for eavesdropping.”

  “I’ve never met anyone with a worse case of stage fright—which is a pity considering your remarkable talent. In all those soirees musicales I attend, I seldom hear anyone play with as much proficiency or emotion as you.”

  Elizabeth’s mouth lifted on one side but her gaze lowered as if she didn’t believe Leticia. She stood. “How kind of you to say. Pray, tell me what brings you to me, besides the call of my ‘considerable talent,’ that is?”

  “I wondered if you’d received a reply to any of the letters you sent.”

  “Not since you asked me last night.” Elizabeth’s mouth curved into a gentle, teasing smile.

  Leticia laughed at herself. “Of course not. Perhaps we should see if Lord Ellerton or Mrs. Bateford are still entertaining the idea of lending their support.”

  “I mentioned it to Lord Ellerton last night, but he failed to commit. I asked Richard to give him a nudge. We ought to seek out Mrs. Bateford. She seemed interested.”

  “I saw her at breakfast, so I know she’s arisen.”

  “Perhaps we can invite her to take a turn about the gardens this morning.” Elizabeth tapped her lower lip with a finger. “Then again, she may feel overwhelmed by us both. She is a bit of a recluse. I can’t imagine how the Colonel and his wife coaxed her to attend the house party. Should I speak with her alone, or do you wish to?”

  “You seem to have a better rapport with her than I.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Very well. I shall seek her out. Pray, walk with me until we find her.”

  “Certainly.” Leticia fell into step with the countess as she moved toward the breakfast room.

  Elizabeth glanced at her. “You danced quite a few sets last night. You appeared to have captured the attention of some fine gentlemen, many of them unattached.”

  Leticia offered a self-deprecating smile. “Tristan put them up to it.”

  “Tristan? Why would he do that?”

  “He seems to have it in his head that he owes me a husband.” She cleared her throat. Had she stepped on Elizabeth’s emotional toes?

  Elizabeth only nodded as if she understood Tristan’s motives.

  “So,” Leticia continued, “he’s appointed himself my personal matchmaker. What’s more, he bet a hundred guineas to our school that I’d receive a proposal from a worthy man by Christmas.” She gave a little laugh. “Ridiculous, of course. I humored him so that he might spend some time in respectable company during his search for my so-called future husband. He agreed not to introduce me to any of his usual associates, thank goodness.”

  Elizabeth’s smile faded. “I don’t know his friends well. Are they so disreputable?”

  “Most of his closest cronies are. But he’s become quite chummy with Rhys Kensington since his return from the continent, and from what I know of Kensington, he’s a decent sort.”

  “Richard thinks highly of Captain Kensington.”

  “Yes, they’ve known each other forever. I’m sure Richard was relieved when he came home from the war whole and hale.”

  “Yes. Very. He came to our wedding, which meant a lot to Richard. And without Captain Kensington and his military experience, they might not have gotten Richard out alive when he was held captive.”

  Leticia shivered, thinking of Richard overpowered by thugs and killers, but the idea of them shooting Tristan turned her cold. If only she’d been here to nurse him back to health. “As to your question, I admit I don’t know many of Tristan’s acquaintances. However, I gave him high criteria for a husband in the hopes that he’ll seek out better company than gamblers and philanderers. Perhaps he’ll make friends with respectable gentlemen for a change. Plenty of that kind like to race and box and hunt, so he can still pursue the diversions he enjoys while seeking better company.”

  Elizabeth had stopped walking and stood staring at her. “You don’t have a very high opinion of Tristan, do you?”

  Leticia put her hand on her cheek. “Good heavens, do I give you that impression? No, quite the contrary. I love him like a brother.” She paused. “I do wish he were more like the sweet, poetic boy he used to be—the one who’d never break a lady’s heart, or risk his neck in a race, or bet a fortune on the turn of a card.”

  “He is very different from his brother.” Elizabeth wore a serene expression with no sign of the infatuated miss she’d been a year ago.

  “Yes, indeed. Richard has always been more serious and dependable, and Tristan has a zest for life. He sees beauty and poetry everywhere. Richard could ponder something and unlock its secrets, but Tristan had to take it all apart with his hands and find some analogy for life in the process.” Leticia’s gaze moved to the window. “The last few years, he’s grown so…so lost.”

  “I don’t think he’s as lost as you seem to think,” Elizabeth said. “Perhaps your plan to lure him into more respectable company is exactly what he needs. Or perhaps the approval of those closest to him would go a long way.”

  “Approval? With his lifestyle?” Leticia said, aghast.

  “Not of what he does—of who he is. I respond to approval and love far better than to criticism.” Again that brief flash of pain passed through Elizabeth’s eyes. Had growing up under the rule of the daunting Duchess of Pemberton been terrible? The intimidating duchess made Leticia want to hide her face. Fortunately, the ducal family had failed to attend this house party.

  Leticia nodded. “I’m certain I respond best to encouragement, too.” A thought came to her, a wonderful, delicious thought. “Perhaps you can help. If I know Tristan, he’ll come to you for advice—for recommendations of gentlemen to whom he might introduce to me. When you make those suggestions, bear in mind gentlemen whose presence will be good for Tristan rather than those you think would be a husband for me. We’ll see if we can match Tristan with good friends while he’s trying to match me with a husband.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I foresee a merry chase for us all.”

  Leticia joined her laughter. “Let us hope a grand prize is caught.”

  Perhaps in her crusade to save the poor, she could save Tristan as well.

  Chapter Four

  Tristan strode alongside his brother, Richard, and slapped his riding gloves against his buckskin breeches. He had to admit, the country life provided invigorating diversions. The pleasures of Town life were varied and enjoyable, but there was something about the simplicity of the country that left him feeling almost wholesome.

  Richard removed his beaver hat, brushed it off, and set it back on his head, looking every inch a perfect English earl. “I daresay, the colonel has the finest hounds in the county, and his hunts always prove entertaining.”

  Tristan smirked. “And seeing Seton almost lose his seat proved a bit diverting, as well.”

  Richard chuckled. “Poor lad. He does try.”

  “He should stop trying. I’m sure he has other skills. Of some kind. However hidden.”

  “He had some rather kind words in your behalf.”

  “Did he?” Tristan frowned. “Can’t imagine why.”

  “Did you know his father is a member of the House of Commons?”

  Tristan shrugge
d. “Of course. That’s why he’s invited to these parties.”

  Sobering, Richard turned a rather discomfortingly piercing gaze on Tristan. “He said someone with a fine mind like yours should consider becoming an MP.”

  Groaning, Tristan held out a hand. “Oh, no. Not the you need to grow up and start doing something worthwhile with your life speech again.”

  Richard sighed. “Not a speech, a plea. Grow up. Choose a worthwhile occupation—something better than the next race or card game or light skirt.”

  Anger simmered in Tristan’s stomach. First Leticia and now Richard. One would think they’d decided ahead of time to beat him with the whip of responsibility during the house party.

  Tristan fisted his hands. “For your information, I have nobler pursuits.”

  “I have something more meaningful in mind than fencing and shooting and fisticuffs.”

  Tristan reined in his temper and smirked. “One never knows when one may need to use those skills.”

  “I mean a calling, a profession—anything.”

  Tristan’s last attempt to hold on to his humor collapsed. “Face it, Richard, I will never measure up to your level of perfection, so stop trying to make me over into your image.”

  “That’s not what—”

  “Stop.” Tristan wheeled around and strode toward the stables. With each step, his frustration heated, speeding his steps, until he reached a boiling point. Veering away from the stables, he headed for the open fields. He broke into a run, his long strides taking him far from the stables, far from the house, out toward solitude.

  Dodging hedgerows and bracken, he flew over the ground, trying to leave all thought behind him. Still he ran, pushing himself harder until his lungs burned and his legs ached. No matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t lose the demons that always lurked nearby, nor all their insidious whispers that he’d never be good enough, never be worthy enough. Never be loved.

  When he could run no more, Tristan slowed to a walk. He stripped off his tailcoat and loosened his cravat, then lifted his face to the sun. The image of Mama’s back as she left him burst into his memory along with his own child’s voice begging her to come back.