How To Rescue A Rake (Book Club Belles Society 3) Page 17

  “Yes. It was quite favorable, Captain.” Usually she would volunteer no more information, but tonight she swallowed, took a breath, and added, “A husband of a very dear friend traveled with me. He was a good companion so I did not mind the length of the journey.” With no mother to deliver a cutting glare when she spoke, Diana’s voice gained volume as well as spirit. “He enjoyed his newspaper and I enjoyed my book. I do not think two people have ever traveled so far together in proximity without the need to quarrel or say anything much at all.”

  “And how do you find Bath?”

  “I have not seen much of it yet, except through a carriage window, but I look forward to exploring the town.” She smiled, and he thought of a tightly budded rose slowly unfurling its petals.

  The young Plumtre sisters began advising her about all the places she should visit while she was there. Nathaniel would have joined in, but Caroline, seated beside him, fought for his attention by plucking at his sleeve again. He saw Diana glance at the woman in mild bemusement. Did she still think this was his mistress?

  No doubt Diana had not believed his protests to the contrary, and now here he was with Caroline still at his side. This would probably be proof enough for Diana. Yes, her lips were smug, a little twitch dimpling her cheek. And her eyebrows were back to their old mischief, expressing the things she would not or could not say aloud. He imagined her thinking, Oh, Sherry, you haven’t changed at all.

  How glad he was to see those eyebrows alive again.

  “Will you stay long in Bath, Captain Sherringham?” Sir Jonathan shouted down the table at him.

  “I…may stay longer than I intended.” Glancing at Diana through the tall candles, he saw her look down at her plate. He followed the graceful movement of her fingers as she picked up her knife.

  Sir Jonathan went on to question him about whether he liked hunting, shooting, cards—all the usual pursuits of a gentleman. When cards were mentioned, Diana’s eyes briefly found his again.

  “I do enjoy a game, Sir Jonathan,” he answered, “but not to the extent I once did. I’ve wagered too much in the past and finally learned to curb that impulse. And others. Mostly.”

  “Ah, all young men have a rite of passage at the gaming tables. ’Tis naught amiss as long as it is all in good fun, what? I like a little wager myself. But you’ll find plenty here to keep you busy. I always say there is something for everybody in Bath. I never went in for this sea bathing that is so popular now and lures folk off to Brighton and Weymouth. As my sisters were telling Miss Makepiece, there is a great deal of good entertainment here.”

  “Yes,” Nathaniel replied. “I see that there is.”

  Diana kept her gaze lowered, refusing to meet his.

  So then Nathaniel said, “Actually, Sir Jonathan, I came to find myself a wife.”

  He heard Caroline’s knife clatter against her plate. All other noises ceased. The ladies present appeared to breathe as one, exhaling a mighty sigh in unison. Except for Diana, who ate on as if he had not spoken. Candlelight sizzled under her black lashes and specks of gold leaf danced among the emerald of her eyes.

  “You never did!” Caroline exclaimed crossly. “You’re not fit for a permanent relationship, and you said that many times!”

  For a moment, everybody paused what they were doing. Diana looked mortified for the woman. Not that Caroline Sayles appeared to note the effect of her impolite remark. Nathaniel, racing to the rescue as usual, gallantly tried to smooth it over for her with a little teasing jest.

  “My dear Mrs. Sayles, a man is entitled to change his mind. Or is it only women who claim that prerogative?”

  “Claim what?” she snapped, spraying his sleeve with little flakes of salmon.

  “I hope to find a lady going spare in Bath,” he continued, calmly wiping a napkin over his arm, “anything between fifteen and thirty, robust and merry, likes to dance… I’m not terribly fastidious.”

  The elderly Mrs. Plumtre laughed. “I like a man who’s honest and direct about his purpose, do I not, Jonty?”

  “Indeed you do, Mama.” Sir Jonathan joined her in a hearty chuckle. “You had better watch out, Captain Sherringham, about making such bold statements in the presence of young ladies, or you might find yourself ambushed! Susy and Daisy will be after you now, and I don’t envy you trying to escape my little sisters.”

  He and his mother continued to laugh, and the two young girls blushed. Diana’s eyes finally looked up again and sought his, bemused.

  Sir Jonathan’s mother found some breath between her chuckles and exclaimed, “Surely a gentleman such as yourself has had many opportunities to find a bride.”

  “I was in the army and traveled extensively. There was no time to consider a wife and family until I was in a position to settle down. I daresay that was what Mrs. Sayles meant. There was a time in my life when I enjoyed the freedom to come and go. I made the most of it.”

  Again he felt Diana watching him.

  “Now I am thirty, financially prepared, and my business thrives. I recently—very recently”—he threw her a quick glance—“decided this is as good a time as any.”

  “Very sound,” his genial host agreed. “I waited a good while before I chose to marry. One gets one’s gun aimed at the hog before one pulls the trigger, what ho?”

  His wife, Lady Plumtre, glowered at the fellow, her nostrils flaring.

  He went on, oblivious, beaming at his wife. “Now we wait for the first litter, of course, to hear the clatter of merry little trotters, eh, my dear?”

  She set her glass down with a bang that almost cracked the crystal.

  Nathaniel caught Diana swallowing the urge to laugh, just as he did the same. In that moment, he lost the last remnants of anger he’d nursed against her for rejecting his proposal. It was impossible to remain bitter when sharing a joke with her.

  Yes, she was looking much improved, flourishing in new surroundings like a plant moved to a bigger pot. Thinking of his sister’s gardening analogy, he chuckled softly.

  A quizzical look passed over Diana’s face and he straightened his lips, staring at her for a moment and wishing he could see inside her mind.

  “And what is your business, Captain?” Lady Plumtre inquired stiffly.

  He forced his attention back to the conversation. “Hospitality, madam.”

  “Inns?”

  “Some, yes, but more specifically the ale and cider served within them.”

  Diana’s eyes flared with a sudden understanding. “I believe I saw your name several times on my journey to Bath,” she said softly, as if speaking only for his ears.

  “I daresay you did.”

  “But I did not know it was the same Sherringham. I had no idea, for you never said.” Her lashes flickered. “I mean to say…when we were introduced tonight, I did not realize you were the same Sherringham.” A light flush swept her face, but no one else seemed to notice her slip.

  There was something entirely too naughty about her expression. Something new. He’d never felt such heated desire surge through his blood. But he had misread her before, let his fanciful imagination run away with him, and then suffered great hurt. It could not happen again. He was not the same reckless boy.

  “You have never come close to being engaged, sir?” jolly Mrs. Plumtre persisted. “A handsome fellow like yourself, I wager you have broken many hearts!”

  “I did think myself in love once, but the lady did not return my affections. I proposed and was summarily rejected.” Nathaniel stretched one leg under the table, found her toe with his, and pressed it lightly. Alas, the impulse to misbehave was still there. He hadn’t quite outgrown it, he realized, chagrined.

  Diana raised her napkin to her lips. When he slid his foot under her hem and touched her ankle, she almost leaped out of her chair.

  “How terrible!” exclaimed one of the Plumtre girls—he
didn’t know which she was, but the expression on her rosy face exuded compassion through the candles. Her sister agreed with a kittenish mewl of sympathy.

  “It cured me of the thought of marriage for some time,” he added somberly. “But perhaps it was for the best. I was young and aimless then. I had made no plans for the future, and the young lady was wise to point that out to me. Although at the time I found her brutal honesty hard to bear, I have come to understand her reasons, even if I cannot fully forgive her for the words she used.”

  “You’ve never mentioned this before, Sherry,” cried Caroline. “You said there was never anyone special.”

  He laughed uneasily.

  “You didn’t want a wife, you said, because then you might have to spend every night with her,” she added.

  Gazes raced up and down the table, some confused, some amused, at least one lady appalled. Even George blushed. As for Diana, he couldn’t tell. Her brows were still, her gaze lowered.

  Nathaniel explained in a light tone, “I meant only that regularly closing one’s eyes for an extended time in the company of a woman does seem a risk, does it not? After all, familiarity breeds contempt, as they say, and a woman in a vengeful rage—as a wife sometimes will be—can be a terrible creature.”

  His host agreed wholeheartedly. “One keeps separate bedchambers. And even a bolt on the door to keep a spouse at bay. My wife finds that quite necessary from time to time, what ho, Lizzie?”

  This conversation had gone altogether too far for Lady Plumtre. She looked as if she longed for the release of sudden, swift death.

  But Nathaniel stole a hasty glance at Diana and caught the slightest twitch that betrayed her lips to be on the verge of uncontrolled laughter again. Her breathing was labored, her delectable bosom rising and falling rapidly in the kiss of candlelight. Like two peaches in a pretty muslin handkerchief, ripe for tasting, he mused.

  He cleared his throat with a short cough. “I suppose separate sleeping arrangements are wise. I should not want to give a wife access to my defenseless form while I sleep. Who knows what she might get up to?”

  The candle flames fluttered wildly as the ladies around the table reacted with gasps and giggles. Diana threw him a warning look, trying to be stern.

  “She could put mustard on my tongue while I snore,” he added, “and shave all the hair off my…head.”

  Mrs. Plumtre covered her mouth with both hands. Her eyes were wide one moment, but screwed up with good humor the next, and her shoulders shook with stifled laughter. Her daughter-in-law’s mouth tightened, creases settling around it in a well-established pattern.

  “But I suppose I can be brave and submit to the dangers of marriage as other men before me have done.” He chuckled, wiping his mouth on the napkin. “Invest in a few sturdy bolts. For both our sakes.”

  “Well, it is good for us that other young lady turned you down before,” Mrs. Plumtre cheerily assured him. “Now my girls will have the pleasure of buying new gowns and bonnets in which to chase you around the Pump Room. The gentlemen’s hunting might be over for the season, but the ladies’ sport has just begun.” She winked, breaking into more laughter that shook her curves and was contagious, sweeping up the rest of her family. Except for her daughter-in-law and grim-faced George, the bereaved fiancé who seldom contributed to the conversation.

  The sound of Mrs. Ashby blowing her nose into her napkin like a ship’s foghorn reminded them all of her presence, her lost daughter, and that engagement recently undone by tragedy. Mrs. Plumtre guiltily bottled her laughter and patted George’s hand where it rested beside hers on the tablecloth.

  Abruptly one of the Plumtre sisters exclaimed, “Perhaps you are still in love with that lady who refused you, Captain. What if you saw her again? You might feel the same now as you did then.”

  “Nonsense,” her sister-in-law said bitterly. “Men do not retain that first flush of desire for long. Their attention spans are not equal to those of women.” She glared in her husband’s direction, but Sir Jonathan was enjoying his salmon and not listening to a word she said.

  “But look at Georgy,” the younger girl insisted. “He is still in love with Eleanor, and she’s de… I mean”—she blushed—“she’s not coming back.”

  “That’s probably why he’s so fond of her,” Lady Plumtre drawled as she picked at her food. “No one is ever quite so well thought of as they are when they’re dead.”

  This cold remark, dropped heavily and callously, left another deep hole in the conversation, until Nathaniel, anxious to save Mrs. Ashby’s feelings from further hurt, said quickly, “Well, I can promise you all that since my disastrous marriage proposal to the lady who once spurned me, I have learned my lesson. I have grown up since then. Which, ironically, is what she advised me to do.” He paused for a sip of wine. “I often wonder what she would think of me now. If we ever met again…if I might have improved in her eyes.”

  Look at me, Diana. But she would not look up now. Those green eyes refused to see how he had changed.

  Sir Jonathan’s hearty laughter stirred the candle flames again, and then he boomed down the table, “As my mama says, hunting is over, but no doubt you like to ride, Captain. I’d happily show you around the estate while you’re here. I’m planting a good number of new trees and have just begun to build a Grecian folly by the lake. You must come with me tomorrow, Sherringham, and allow me to show off, what ho? Another fellow’s opinion is always welcome, and you shall have luncheon with us at the lodge if the ladies have no objection.”

  “I would like that very much, Sir Jonathan.” Nathaniel’s smile was directed at Diana across the table, but she still avoided eye contact.

  “You trip along tomorrow and we’ll have a cold luncheon with pork pie and cucumber, eh? Just the thing for a spring day.” Ignoring his wife’s furious scowl, he waved his wineglass at Nathaniel. “And you must call me Jonty. Everyone does, you know.”

  “Then I insist that you call me Sherry. It is the name I am most often called by my friends.” The young Miss Plumtres burst into frothy giggles, as if he’d said something remarkably funny. After a moment he realized this jollity was caused merely by his smile. Hastily, he checked the reflection of his teeth in the blade of a knife and, finding nothing unsightly stuck there between them, continued to smile. Why not? He liked to make ladies laugh, of course. Surely there was nothing wrong with it. When he experimented, widening his smile, this produced yet more breathless chuckles and considerable heaving of the young ladies’ bosoms.

  Suddenly he looked over at Diana and caught her rolling her eyes. She now turned to George Plumtre, asking him gently about his fondness for poetry.

  Nathaniel’s smile faded.

  He didn’t think he had behaved too badly. But he couldn’t help his mood being jocular, his spirits light and merry. She was there before him again, so how could he not be happy? He might have said things a gentleman shouldn’t in the company of ladies, but that was her fault. She made his heart beat too fast, and he wasn’t made of stone like her. He’d tried to be when he came back.

  God and the devil knew he’d tried.

  * * *

  So that was how he made his money. A brewery. Diana heard him talking more about it after dinner as he and Jonty sat together by the fire, the dogs sprawled at their feet. Her mother would probably not approve of a fortune earned through ale, she mused, so it was just as well he kept the source of his new wealth close to his chest and under his beautifully embroidered waistcoat.

  He was not engaged to Lucy Bridges, then. Or Lucy Brydges, she mentally corrected herself, remembering the family’s rise up the rungs of society. The realization that Nathaniel was still unattached swept over her in a cool wave of relief, although it shouldn’t matter so much. Poor Lucy must be disappointed. Hopefully the sadness would soon pass for her. If only the young woman would open her eyes and see how much she meant to Sam Hard
acre—but he was a quiet soul who kept his feelings hidden to preserve his pride.

  Diana knew all about that and felt great empathy for the man.

  Nathaniel would say it was the carpenter’s fault for not speaking up. “Sherry” had no understanding of the difficulties faced by those who were not blessed with an excess of self-confidence.

  A smile teased her lips as she thought of his brazen announcement at dinner. I came to find myself a wife. Only Sherry would have the gall to say that in the company of several unmarried ladies.

  But despite that comment and his lapse at dinner, he definitely was trying to dim the light now. Although he answered the Plumtre sisters’ many impertinent questions, he did so in the manner of a benevolent, patient older brother. The naughtiness he’d exhibited earlier in the dining room was now carefully packed away and he was on better behavior.

  He did not sit near Caroline Sayles and seemed cool toward her. There was no sign of affection or even friendship between them. Left alone, Caroline sat with a plate of marzipan on her lap and slowly tasted her way through it, nibbling little pieces of the colored sweets and putting each one back to try another. Although she had complained of an upset stomach earlier that evening, her appetite seemed unaffected. From across the room Elizabeth watched this with ever-increasing horror and kept trying—in vain—to get her husband’s attention so he would take the plate away.

  But Diana, who knew what it was to be the target of disapproving gazes and to feel awkward and out of place, felt some compassion for Caroline Sayles. She saw all that discontent and ill-mannered squirming and twitching as nerves. Caroline picked at her teeth, drank too much wine, and frequently adjusted her gown, but since no one engaged her in conversation what else was she to do? She could not leave until the man who had brought her was ready to go. In the meantime, it could not be very pleasant to know that one was being gossiped about, one’s dirty laundry aired by strangers. At some point, Diana supposed, it must chafe upon even the most audacious spirit and cause a callused, toughened skin.