Songs of Yesterday: Secrets of Scarlett Hall Book 5

by Jennifer Monroe

  “I have upset you,” Holden said. “My apologies. Perhaps I should not send a card after all.” He dropped his shoulders, a trick he had learned in his childhood that earned him compassion from both governesses and tutors alike.

  “Not at all,” Miss Skylark blurted before covering her mouth as if shocked. “Forgive my rudeness. What I meant to say was that, no, I have not received many suitors. None, if I am honest.”

  He gasped. “Say it is not so! How can a woman as lovely as you not have a line of men vying for her attention? Well, I am pleased that I get to be the first.” He bowed. His work for the night was now complete, and yet he could not pull himself away from this lovely woman.

  As the silence around them grew, he wondered if it would be best if he joined his friends, for no topic of conversation would come to mind. It was so strange; never had anything like this happened to him before, and that only made his nervousness grow. How could he, Holden Bradshaw, be unable to conduct simple conversation? That had never happened before, especially when he was in the presence of a beautiful woman, and that made him all the more curious about this lovely lady before him.

  ***

  Rose found herself in the most awkward of positions and was unsure as to what to do. Not only had Caroline left her alone, but her Aunt Eleanor had, as well. Not alone exactly, for the room was filled with people having conversations and enjoying themselves. What had her all aflutter was the silence that had fallen between her and Mr. Bradshaw. Had she offended him in some way? Or perhaps he had caught her smiling as he spoke and misinterpreted it as she had thought him silly. She did not think him silly, that was for certain.

  She had admired a few men for their handsomeness, but Mr. Bradshaw was far more so than any man she had met previously. Studying him, however, made her legs weak, and the room began to shift around her. Could the wine have brought on this headiness? No, she had only had half a glass thus far. Then what could be the reason for the flushed feeling that now overwhelmed her?

  In a panic, she glanced around until her eyes fell on Caroline speaking to a man with blond hair. Oh, good, she now had a topic of conversation. “Caroline appears happy. Do you know that gentleman speaking with her now?”

  Mr. Bradshaw brushed back a dark wave of hair as he turned to where Caroline and her companion were speaking. Rose was forced to bring her left foot back a bit to maintain her balance. She glared down at her wine glass. What on earth was wrong with her?

  “Oh, that is my good friend, Mr. David Banner. He is a most worthy gentleman, I assure you. I believe he has had an interest in Miss Thrup for some time now. I am pleased to see he has gathered the courage to approach her.”

  Rose sighed, her heart happy for her new friend. “That is wonderful to hear. I can tell they are enjoying each other’s company. Just look at their smiles.”

  When Mr. Bradshaw turned once again, Rose could not help but admire his strong jawline and perfect nose. Her cheeks burned as impure thoughts of him kissing her popped into her mind uninvited, and she had to use all her concentration to push them back. She was no hussy who thought of a gentleman and his kisses!

  Caroline approached them, and Rose said, “It appears…”

  “I have other guests I must meet,” Mr. Bradshaw said over her before he hurried away, leaving her staring after him in surprise.

  “Oh, Rose!” Caroline said in a hurried whisper, “Mr. Banner asked my permission to send a card! Is it not wonderful?”

  “I am very pleased for you,” Rose replied, and she truly was. “I heard he is a worthy gentleman.”

  Caroline glanced around and stepped in closer, lowering her voice further. “He commented on my fragrance and said he has never found a scent so alluring.” She giggled at this.

  “Did he?” Rose asked, shocked at the man’s forwardness. Then, upon seeing Caroline’s frown, she reminded herself that she did not wish to be a bore. “How wonderful for you. You are a daring woman, after all, and gentlemen appreciate such things.”

  This brought a smile from her friend. “I saw you speaking with Mr. Bradshaw. Did he happen to mention your fragrance, as well?”

  Rose glanced at the man in question, who stood speaking with an older couple. “No, but he did ask permission to call on me.”

  “How marvelous!” Caroline said. “You see, we were worried for nothing. Tonight we have gained the attention of two of the most eligible men in Rumsbury. We could not have done any better!”

  Rose simply nodded. “You may be right at that. I do not know Mr. Bradshaw well, but both men seem gentlemen of good standing with wonderful manners. And they are quite handsome. Surely we have found the best, as you said.”

  Caroline was all smiles. “Indeed we have.”

  Rose noticed her aunt speaking with an older woman. The elder Lord Bradshaw was nowhere to be seen.

  Caroline seemed to notice her gaze, for she said, “That old woman with Lady Lambert is Mrs. Beatrice Evans, a madwoman. It is rumored she murdered her husband for snoring too loudly.”

  Rose gasped. “Surely that is not true. How did you learn of this?”

  She had not meant it as an invitation to gossip and regretted the question as soon as it left her lips. As her companion spoke, her gaze fell upon Mr. Bradshaw once more. Indeed he was quite handsome, and his smile, even from this distance, radiated throughout the room.

  When he and his friends glanced in her direction, they smiled and patted Mr. Bradshaw on the back. Had he told them of his request to call on her? Although she would never allow any man to consider her an object of sport, she did understand that men tended to boast to one another.

  So why did knowing he had boasted of her make her somehow feel special?

  Chapter Six

  Five days after the party, Rose found herself sitting in the drawing room at Scarlett Hall with Mr. Bradshaw, Caroline beside her as chaperon. She had spent the morning anticipating his arrival, but for the past thirty minutes, he had gone on about whatever seemed to come to mind, allowing her few opportunities to give her opinion—or to speak at all.

  “It is quite simple, really,” he was saying as he set his teacup on the table. “Men occupy their time with games of sport and other outdoor activities. Women are more domestic creatures, more suited to tasks about the house. Or so I have observed. I mean, can you imagine a woman on a fox hunt? She would do whatever she could to save the fox and pet the dogs!” He laughed at his own jest. Rose wanted nothing more than to box his ears.

  She had spoken to a few gentlemen before—granted only on rare occasion, but she had experienced such a situation—and she had hoped Mr. Bradshaw would be different. Yet, her hope was dwindling quickly. Then, to her surprise, silence fell. Perhaps he realized that his joke was not very humorous.

  She jumped at the chance to get a word in. However, rather than addressing his rude comment about women and hunting, she decided to take the conversation in another direction. Men did not like being corrected, especially by women. Or so she heard. “Do you not believe some activities can be enjoyed together by married couples? Perhaps horseback riding, for example.”

  Mr. Bradshaw seemed to consider this. “I suppose they could at that.” He rubbed his chin in consternation. “Yes, the more I think about it, the more I must agree.” Suddenly, he stood, walked over to the window, and then turned and gave her a very pleasant smile. “I would enjoy a stroll through the gardens. The idea of fresh air is appealing. Would you enjoy that?”

  Rose found herself at a loss for words. All she could manage to do was nod. How could one who spoke with such arrogance one moment seem so pleasant the next? The idea of taking a stroll with him, however, made her somehow giddy despite his decisively masculine argument only moments before. He was handsome, after all.

  She and Caroline gathered their wraps and hats and soon the trio was walking down the garden path. Rose was surprised at how Caroline had been since Mr. Bradshaw arrived. It was so unlike the woman to not take control of any conversation. P
erhaps Rose had misjudged her, for she certainly seemed to understand her place during this time.

  As they walked, Rose considered her feelings for this man. He could be long-winded, which was not a complimentary trait. Yet he was also considerate, as when he held the door open for her and Caroline. Maybe she should not be so critical of him. Patience was what she needed. He would prove who he truly was in time. Secretly she hoped he was the man beside her at this moment.

  “It appears I have done most of the speaking,” Mr. Bradshaw said, much to Rose’s surprise. “I must ask your forgiveness for commandeering the conversation.”

  “There is nothing to forgive,” Rose replied. “I enjoy listening to conversation as much as engaging in it.” So, she had lied a bit. It did not matter now that he was being extremely polite and contrite.

  Clouds covered the sun, making the air around them chill, but as soon as the clouds moved past, the air warmed. Birds sang in the trees while others flew about in search of food in the grass.

  “Tell me, Miss Skylark, what do you do for leisure?”

  “I spend much of my time with my needlework. Completing a project can be quite satisfying.”

  “My mother often was found with a needle in hand when I was younger,” he said as they came to the end of the path. “I am not certain I understand why she enjoyed it. I would find such a task quite boring.”

  If her aunt had not said what she had about that which men and women enjoy, Rose would have been offended. He had every right to his opinion.

  “I must admit I find the idea of hunting deceptive. I cannot imagine riding out after a group of yelping dogs, allowing them to do all the work, and then taking the prey for myself.”

  She worried he would be offended by her words, but Mr. Bradshaw gave her a marvelous smile that proved he was not. “I can see how you would view it as such.”

  Rose’s cheeks burned at that smile. She had to keep the conversation going or she would stare at him all day! “Does your mother still enjoy embroidery?”

  They came to a stop at a wooden fence at the back of the garden that overlooked rolling hills of green.

  “No, my mother has been gone for some time now.”

  “Oh, I am sorry,” Rose said. “My father is gone, as well. He died when I was but a babe in the womb.”

  “My condolences. How did he die?”

  “He was in the military and lost his life in France during a battle of some sort.” Mr. Bradshaw scrunched his brow but did not comment, so she continued. “Mother raised me alone, and I believe she did a marvelous job of it.” She laughed. “I sound as if I am boasting.”

  “I see no issue with complimenting one’s parents,” Mr. Bradshaw said. “My father has had a lifetime of compliments from me, but it does not seem to ease his irritation of me.” He closed his mouth as if to keep from saying more, and Rose found her curiosity piqued.

  “Why is he irritated with you?”

  Mr. Bradshaw sighed. “I am a daring man who looks for adventure more often than not. He is stuck in his ways and wants me to be like him, but I am a modern man.”

  “I am afraid I do not understand. What does it mean to be a modern man? I have not heard of this before.”

  He glanced around as if he would be revealing a great secret. “The customs of old are mundane. For example, if I find you to be a very beautiful woman, to say so outright so early in our association would have been frowned upon in the days of old. However, why should I withhold the truth? Why can I not be immediately open and honest?”

  Rose’s heart raced. Had he just called her beautiful? “I do not know,” she said, although she could see the truth in what he said. Not concerning her beauty but being truthful at the start.

  “Do you see the dilemma?” he asked fervently. “We are told to keep our true thoughts to ourselves, so in defiance of the rules, I speak outright what I believe.” He took a step toward her. “And I do believe that you, Miss Skylark, are more beautiful than any woman I have ever met.”

  Rose was uncertain what to think about Mr. Bradshaw’s forwardness. It was one thing to speak so boldly when he had called several times, or if they were courting, but upon their first true encounter? It was bold, crass, and dare she say…utterly fascinating. For some reason, she felt the desire to collapse into his arms.

  “Have my words offended you?”

  “N-no,” Rose managed to reply.

  “Do you not find me handsome?”

  He had lowered his voice. It had a deep rumbling to it, like the purring of a large cat, and her skin tingled in response.

  This left Rose unable to reply. This entire conversation went against everything she had been taught; her mother would be appalled if Rose provided an answer. One simply did not speak so boldly to a man with whom she had just made an acquaintance!

  However, his soft brown eyes dared her to respond, bringing about a stab of excitement. Would he attempt to kiss her? Would he sweep her off her feet at this very moment and carry her away? She trembled in anticipation—and fear—and found her voice once more.

  “I admit that I do find you handsome,” she replied, wishing her voice were not so breathy and that her heart was not threatening to break out of her chest. “Very much so.”

  His grin widened as he took a step back. “That was awfully daring of you,” he said. Then the proper man returned and he offered his arm. “We have tested the boundaries of the rules of old enough for one day. Perhaps we should return to the house. I certainly would not like it if your aunt grew suspicious and accused me of some dastardly infraction.” He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “I imagine Miss Thrup will be of little help in our defense. She seems to be fixated on other things.”

  Rose glanced at Caroline, who stood studying the bark of a nearby tree. She wanted to laugh—he was jesting, after all—but all she could do was nod as she placed her hand on his arm. For someone brought up to interpret the subtle nuances around her, she was certainly doing a poor job of it now!

  With each step, a sense of boldness welled up inside her, mixed with a healthy amount of shame for her actions this day. Was it really so wrong to tell a man he was handsome as she had? According to her upbringing, it was. The question was, why did it not feel wrong?

  ***

  Mr. Bradshaw had not been gone from Scarlett Hall for more than five breaths when Caroline began her interrogation as she and Rose returned to the drawing room.

  “What did he say to you?” she demanded. “I saw your cheeks go as red as wine. Was he inappropriate? He did not say something foul, did he? I know! He has asked for your hand already!”

  Rose had been unable to respond to any of the woman’s questions, but this last forced her to interrupt. “No,” she replied with a laugh. They went to the couch and sat, and she let out a small sigh. “If I tell you, you must promise not to tell anyone.”

  “I do not repeat what I hear,” Caroline said indignantly, although Rose was uncertain if she believed the woman. She had spent more than an hour gossiping to Rose about one guest or another during the party at Ramada Estate and continued to do so once they had returned to Scarlett Hall that night. Despite her awareness of this, Rose needed the woman’s opinion.

  “He told me he thought me beautiful, and I must admit that I have never heard a man speak so boldly.”

  “How wonderful!” Caroline’s sigh held a tinge of jealousy. “I believe Mr. Banner will soon tell me as much.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “That does not matter. What matters is that you have caught the eye of a very eligible bachelor.”

  Rose nodded. The man was indeed attracted to her, as she was to him. “Something is nagging at me, however. He says he is daring and refuses to adhere to societal norms, which he proved today. I also get a sense that he is a rogue, which would take daring to an entirely different level.”

  Caroline smoothed her skirts. “There are many rumors about him,” she said slowly, “most concerning secret kisses with ladies at parties. I beli
eve them to be nothing more than rumors spread by jealous women, but I have nothing to prove that point.”

  This bit of information brought about a sense of worry to Rose. “I must admit that I am unsure what I believe. Besides the fact that he is quite handsome, I found the majority of our conversation quite maddening until our stroll in the gardens. Must a woman always be forced to pretend to be entertained by talk of hunting and sport?”

  “Indeed she must,” Caroline counseled. “You must be able to ask the right questions to show that you have an interest in whatever he discusses. Otherwise, you hazard the chance of him looking elsewhere for a ready ear.”

  “But I do not have any enthusiasm for any of the topics he broached,” Rose replied in frustration. “And I do not like feigning interest; it feels all too much like lying.”

  Caroline nodded. “It is more than likely that you know little about such subjects, thus the need to ask questions. By doing so, it makes the man feel important somehow. Men must feel needed as well as feel as if they know more than women. Otherwise they become sulky and temperamental.”

  Rose sighed. She was not certain she believed the woman, but what choice did she have? Caroline did seem quite knowledgeable in this arena. Yet, the idea of asking questions like some simpering fool only to make a man feel good about himself did not appeal to her.

  “I suppose I could learn more about the topics that interest men. But how?” Then an idea came to her. “The library. There are many books there on all sorts of subjects. I am sure there must be at least one on hunting. I can begin there. If I know at least something about the sport, perhaps the conversation can be a bit more appealing. I despise asking questions a simpleton might ask. Would you care to join me?”

  Caroline yawned. “No, thank you. I do not believe I would enjoy that. The idea of reading about hunting only makes me wearier. I believe I will go up to nap for a while but do tell me all you have learned when I wake.”