Sinfully Ever After (Book Club Belles Society) Page 18

  Thankfully, his brother understood this. Darius cleared his throat, hid his smile, and said, “Lucius managed to run my gig off the road today, apparently.”

  “Oh dear,” exclaimed his wife. “I hope no one was hurt!”

  “Just my pride.” He forced a smile. “Lost a wheel up beyond the bridge, on the turnpike road.”

  “And you had to struggle all the way home, Colonel?” Sarah cried. “It must have been painful for you on foot.”

  “I rode,” he muttered. “Went up and took a look at the empty farmhouse up by the river. Willow Tree Farm, ain’t it? Nice place.”

  “You can ride?” Sarah cried in surprise. “Even with your leg?”

  “It locks up once in a while, but I manage.”

  Darius muttered, “You were driving that gig without caution, I expect. I await the wheelwright’s bill with trepidation.”

  “Did you see Dr. Penny while you were out?” Sarah demanded, staring at him with large, intense eyes. “As you promised?”

  Luke thought hastily. “He was not home.”

  “Really?” said Justina. “My father was in when I called upon him this afternoon.”

  Damn it all, he’d forgotten the family connection. Of course, he’d had his mind on many other things that day. Primarily Rebecca, and then the arrival of the Clarendons.

  Luke stabbed his fish with considerable force, the sudden, violent scraping of fork prongs on china making everyone look up. “They must not have heard the bell when I came to the door,” he said gruffly.

  Aware of Sarah still staring, he did not turn his head to look at her.

  “Well, that is very odd. Perhaps after church tomorrow, I can take you to see my father,” said Justina. “If you would like—”

  “On a Sunday? And Christmas Eve, no less? Surely he likes to take a day of rest. No, no, this can wait until after Christmas. There is no rush.”

  No one spoke for a moment. The meal continued in silence until Sarah said, “Don’t you want your leg to get better, Colonel? Or perhaps it does not hurt that much after all.”

  “Sarah! What a thing to say. I’m sure the colonel would like very much not to have that pain after so many years.”

  Luke made much of finding a bone in his fish and setting it aside on the plate.

  “Well, he doesn’t seem in much haste to do anything about it. I was curious, that’s all.” The girl put down her fork and said solemnly, “I was thinking of when I had a fever several years ago…do you remember, Uncle Darius?”

  “Of course.”

  “I got a great deal of attention because of it, and even though I felt simply rotten in the beginning, after a while I rather enjoyed being treated so kindly by everyone. Even the horrible medicine was bearable because Uncle Darius came up to read to me in the evenings and I got all my favorite puddings.” She licked her lips. “And it was also a useful affliction because it kept your stepmother from nagging at me all the time about my posture. She couldn’t complain about it while I was deathly ill in bed. In fact, everyone had to tiptoe around me. It was so very pleasing that once I was declared well enough to get out of bed again, I felt quite a letdown.”

  Again there was silence. Until Darius said wryly, “That would explain why the doctor’s remedies didn’t work as efficiently as they should, Sarah.”

  “Precisely,” the little chit replied, staring hard at Luke again.

  He took a piece of boiled potato from his plate and fed it to Ness, who waited patiently under the table at his feet.

  “By the by, Colonel, who is Lucky?”

  Uh-oh. Luke wiped his lips carefully on a napkin. “It was a name some people called me. In my youth.”

  “Why?”

  He sighed, but before he could prepare a reply, his brother said, “Because people claimed he had the luck of the devil.”

  For now, that seemed to satisfy the inquisitor.

  Where had she heard that name, Luke wondered. Perhaps his brother had mentioned it within her hearing before.

  “Lucius was asking about the Clarendons,” said Darius, looking at his wife. “They are related to your friend Diana, are they not?”

  “Yes.” She looked a little flustered, glancing at Luke. “Diana’s mother was a Clarendon before her marriage. They are visiting for Christmas.”

  “I saw them on the road today,” Luke muttered.

  “Oh.” His brother’s wife asked Sarah to pass the potatoes and then looked at the mantel clock. “Do you think it will snow again tomorrow?”

  Eighteen

  It did not snow. The next morning he was dragged along, under a chill, bright sky, to Sunday church service, where he sat in the special pew reserved for the residents of Midwitch Manor, with Justina on one side and Sarah on the other. The young girl studied his every move until Luke felt as if he were five again and under the sharply watchful eyes of a nanny.

  In the front row of the congregation to his right, he saw the Clarendons with that somber-faced ham woman and her pretty but unhappy daughter.

  And there, in another pew, slightly behind them, sat Major Sherringham and Rebecca.

  Last night, after supper, his brother’s wife had followed him to the billiard room, Ness trotting at her side, to explain what she had not been able to tell him within Sarah’s hearing.

  “I’m afraid my friend Rebecca is very fond of Mr. Charles Clarendon. He is her very ideal of a perfect gentleman.”

  He had felt a hard pinch in his chest at this news, but it should not have been any surprise. The two were of similar age. They made an attractive couple. She had certainly greeted Charles in a very warm and welcoming manner, markedly different to the way she was with him.

  “I see,” had been his reply.

  Justina had stopped in the billiard room doorway, her head on one side, and looked annoyed. “Oh no, not you too.”

  “Me too?”

  “Darius always says I see like that when he’s in a tight spot and doesn’t know how to react. When, in fact, he doesn’t see at all and he’s still trying to make sense of it.”

  Luke had laughed it off, assuring her that Rebecca was clever enough to make her own choices, but inside he had not felt like laughing. His blood went quite cold at the thought of Gingersnap falling doe-eyed for that shiny, polished young buck. This morning in church, Charles Clarendon, incapable of sitting still for long, continually looked over his shoulder, trying to catch the eye of Miss Sherringham. Each time he did so, a ray of sunlight bounced off the diamond pin in his cravat and seared a painful course directly into Luke’s eyes. The young man’s sister pretended to ignore everyone, her bored gaze fixed upon a stone pillar while she patted her nose with a kerchief and sighed.

  Meanwhile, Rebecca’s father had his chin on his chest and appeared to be studying his coat buttons, although he might well be asleep. He had shown no sign of noticing the simpering of Master Clarendon in the front pew. But others did. It was such a pointed and one-way flirtation that the folk crowded into that small church could not fail to notice.

  Gingersnap paid dutiful attention to the parson, however, and for the most part, she ignored Clarendon’s idiotic and disrespectful antics.

  What was she thinking about? Luke wondered, noting a slightly pensive, wistful expression on her face today. If he was sitting with her, he would be holding her hand, squeezing it gently to reassure her.

  Luke suddenly noticed Sarah shivering beside him. The small feather on her cap fluttered in a draft through the ancient window behind them. Immediately he whispered at her to change seats with him and he put up his collar against the cold air.

  After the service, the villagers poured out through the arched door of the small church, many exclamations of “Merry Christmas” called back and forth. It had been a long time, Luke thought suddenly, since he’d celebrated the Yuletide season in any form. A year ag
o, he could not have imagined himself here, attending church with his estranged brother and a little girl everyone thought was his daughter.

  “He came back from the dead,” the villagers whispered.

  “Such a shock to his brother.”

  “And to that little girl, no doubt.”

  “They say he came to marry the major’s daughter, but she won’t have him. You know how particular she is.”

  “These romantic young girls. Too many novels, that’s my opinion. I wouldn’t turn him away.”

  He hung back, lurking in the shadows as villagers passed through the door. At last, Rebecca was within reach and he stepped forward, leaning on his cane. Today he was acutely aware of the need to mind his manners. After the disastrous jaunt in his brother’s gig yesterday, he didn’t want her attacking him with her bonnet again. He’d been heavy-handed in his approach. That would have to change, clearly. She’d shown that she didn’t trust him. He would, therefore, have to earn that trust, but if he meant to do so before the new year—as he’d wagered—time was not on his side.

  But he wouldn’t let her fall victim to more gossip.

  And Sarah had her heart set on Miss Sherringham for a stepmother.

  Last but not least, he liked Rebecca. He admired her. She was amusing, quick-witted, strong, generous. To have her look up to him, to trust him and hold his hand willingly, would be a prize indeed.

  “Miss Sherringham.”

  She halted, frowning. “Colonel Wainwright.”

  He was struck by her pretty face again as if he’d never seen it before. “Will you walk with me?”

  She seemed confused and nervous, unable to look him in the eye. “I must wait for my father.”

  “We can wait for him together then.”

  Despite its searing brightness, the only place where the sun actually had heat today was when it touched her anxious face and her hair. It seemed to produce a halo of mist around her. Probably, he mused, all that angry breath she exhaled when she looked at him.

  “I would not wish to detain you, Colonel. Don’t wait.”

  “But I must wait. What else can I do?” If he were not attempting reform, he would simply hoist the woman over his shoulder and carry her out of the church. Alas, he wasn’t allowed to put his hands on her in public, even if he was running out of time.

  The woman looked over at the doorway, which was now blocked by a crowded jumble of folk all delayed over their Christmas greetings. Luke took another step closer.

  “I must thank you, Miss Sherringham, for sending the carpenter to my aid yesterday.”

  “Oh.”

  “It was very thoughtful of you, considering my reckless behavior,” he added.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Oh?”

  Luke wanted to touch the curl of copper that tumbled beside her cheek. The old Lucky wouldn’t have hesitated. But today he kept his hands behind his back, away from temptation. “The next time I take you for a drive, I will be more cautious.”

  Her brows arched high. “The next time?”

  “Of course.”

  “I don’t—”

  “You must allow me to make it up to you.” He paused. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  She drew a sharp breath, her cheeks sucked in, the curl by her face quivering indignantly. “I was not frightened. Fright is a weakness, caused by inexperience and a lack of self-assurance. I, however, was quite certain where we would end up. My concerns were entirely logical and practical—the expense of a broken gig or the endangering of a limb is not something to be sniffed at. If your intention was to frighten me by racing like that, you failed.”

  “Why would it be my intention to frighten you? I wanted you to trust me.”

  Apparently this puzzled her. She opened her lips but no reply came out.

  “But you think no one is as trustworthy as yourself,” he prompted softly.

  “Of course I don’t think that!”

  “Good. Then you won’t object to giving me another chance.”

  With an irritated gasp, she turned, searching back inside the church for her father, but came face to face with Mrs. Penny, who laughed giddily at finding them standing near.

  “We shall soon see you two walking down this aisle together, shan’t we?”

  Rebecca blanched, even her freckles fading. “Don’t wait for me,” she snapped again at Luke over her shoulder before rushing around Mrs. Penny and disappearing into the church.

  Somewhere behind him he heard that unknown voice whisper, “But he’s too old for her. Much too old. He ought to know better.”

  Another said, “With his past scandals…”

  “He only came back for the inheritance, of course.”

  Before the startled Mrs. Penny could speak again, he moved away as fast as he could manage, squeezing through the cluster of villagers until he had left the dim, dank mustiness of the church behind. He was still recovering breath when his sister-in-law found him and led him over to the ham woman, who stood beside the frost-trimmed churchyard wall. “Colonel, I know you have been introduced to Mrs. Makepiece already.”

  Although he always knew what to say to a lady on his own territory, he had to struggle to find a polite remark while he was all togged up like a show pony in his brother’s clothes. He reached for the only thing he knew about her. “I hope you got your ham home safely, madam.”

  She blinked nervously and gave a strained smile. “I did. Thank you, Colonel.”

  His sister-in-law jumped in to help. “May I introduce Mr. Charles Clarendon and his sister Elizabeth?” Ah, he hadn’t seen who Ham Lady was with until it was too late to avoid them. “This is my brother-in-law, Colonel Lucius Wainwright, formerly of the Light Dragoons and recently returned to us.”

  “Ah yes, Colonel!” Charles beamed in that stupid way. “We met yesterday on the road. You very nearly ran us off it and into the river.” He shook his finger in Luke’s face while laughing as if it was the funniest thing that ever happened to anyone.

  “I remember the incident differently,” he replied tersely.

  The idiot boy’s sister thrust her cold curiosity at him with eyes like two icy, flint-gray spears. “Your name is familiar. Do we know you?”

  “I am sure there are a great many Wainwrights in the world.” Preparing to move away, he stopped and looked at them both again. “You mean to stay long in the village?”

  “Good Lord, no,” said the sister.

  “I wish we could stay longer,” exclaimed Charles. “But sadly we can never stay with our dear cousins long enough. Always so many other things to drag us away again from this quaintly rustic idyll.”

  As he felt a trickle of relief running through his veins, Luke thought he heard his sister-in-law exhale a light sigh of the same emotion while she stood at his side.

  “It must make quite a change for you here,” he muttered.

  “My brother delights in the novelty of staying at that little inn by the green,” Elizabeth Clarendon explained listlessly, “and I have the pleasure of the spare room in my cousin’s tidy little house.” She flicked a sly glance at her brother, who ignored it because he had just spied the Sherringhams emerging under the arch of the church door.

  Pushing his way by them all, Charles leaped in Rebecca’s path. “Allow me to walk you home, Miss Sherringham! I have waited here in the cold to do just that very thing, chilled my feet to the bone. You must introduce me to your father.”

  He was loud and solidly planted in her path, his gestures extravagant as those of a magician looking to distract his audience while he fleeces their pockets. Several passing folk turned to look as he imposed himself on his prey in this odd manner. But she did not seem to mind—if anything, she looked as if she found him amusing, his childish pout endearing. Of course, she didn’t like a man who could look after himself; she preferred little boys whose
faces she could wipe.

  “We will see you later,” Justina called out to her.

  Becky looked over and her smile faltered when she saw Luke standing there. Then Charles said something else, waving his arms about like a windmill, drawing her attention back to him. Soon they had moved on with Clarendon, her father genially nodding to the young man, trying to follow his energetically aimless conversation.

  “My brother finds the oddest amusements in the country,” Elizabeth commented, her tone droll. “It seems he shares Miss Sherringham’s passion for dead leaves.” Since no one else present seemed to understand the reference, her attempt at wit—if that was what it was—fell flat.

  “I hope we can amuse you both while you are with us,” said Ham Lady.

  Her guest managed a weak smile that barely existed before it was snuffed. “I’m sure.”

  There followed an awkward lull in the conversation, for now that Charles had gone off, it seemed as if the remaining ladies had nothing to say to one another, and Luke felt no inclination to speak. He was still watching Rebecca walk away on the other man’s arm and suffering a tightening in his chest that made him think he must have eaten his breakfast too fast that morning.

  “You were lately visiting with Admiral Vyne at Lark Hollow?” Justina asked eventually. “Does he not have three lovely daughters? I’ve never met them, but heard much about—”

  “Lovely is a matter of taste,” Miss Clarendon interrupted. “But they are very young and lively. And quite without means. His house falls around his ears. One wonders where all his money went.”

  That would explain why two Clarendons had sought entertainment elsewhere. They liked their comforts. Although what they were doing in the “quaintly rustic idyll” of Hawcombe Prior remained a mystery. Ham Lady doesn’t look as if she has many pennies to rub together either, thought Luke. She was probably much worse off than the admiral, so what had brought the Clarendons here? He didn’t believe, even for a moment, that it had anything to do with family fondness. He didn’t like them here.