How To Rescue A Rake (Book Club Belles Society 3) Read online

  “What do you think, Miss Makepiece?” Sir Jonty bellowed. “Will it not look very fine reflected in the water here? When the mists rise on an autumn morning?” He pointed across the lake to where the folly was currently abandoned a quarter of the way to completion. “And in the evening, on warm summer nights with stars shining above it?”

  She could not answer because, standing so close to Nathaniel’s body, his heat was almost too much to bear. The best she could manage was a low hum of deep consideration, as if pondering the questions tossed back and forth over her head.

  “But it won’t be complete for ages,” exclaimed Daisy. “Don’t say we have to wait for the folly before you hold that ball you promised, Jonty! Last year it was put off because of George’s fiancée. If you keep putting it off, Susy and I will be in our dotage before we get to enjoy a ball here at Wollaford.”

  Her brother beamed. “Don’t fret, Daisy. You will get your ball.” He turned to Diana. “What do you think of a summer ball at Wollaford, Miss Makepiece?”

  The girls also stared at her, their faces shining with hope.

  “I…think that would…be a very good idea.”

  “Excellent! Since Miss Makepiece agrees, we shall indeed have a ball.”

  Flattered as she was to be the person upon whom that decision appeared to have rested, Diana was also somewhat startled by it.

  By then Elizabeth had caught up with the group. Fortunately she was out of breath, or she would surely have had a few very angry things to say about being left to struggle through the mud alone. Instead, flushed and bedraggled, she saved her darkest scowl for Diana when she found her there between the two men, holding the building plans and seemingly in the center of all decisions.

  Diana did not want to be accused again of monopolizing anyone’s attention or thinking she knew anything about men. Heaven forbid. She tried ducking out of the way and leaving the gentlemen to hold the plans, but Nathaniel would not take his side of the paper. Instead he reached across to point at something drawn on the plans, and she inhaled a deep breath of his manly scent—warm leather, boot polish, and sandalwood.

  Newly awakened to some dangerous fancies—only now acknowledging them for what they were—and still feeling the angry pinch of her cousin’s spiteful regard, Diana backed away so desperately that she almost tripped into the reeds by the edge of the lake.

  Nathaniel reached out, catching her coat sleeve in the nick of time.

  She looked down at his firm hand, alarm skipping and darting around inside her body.

  “Do take care, Miss Makepiece,” he muttered, frowning.

  Suddenly there was a shout of greeting from the water, and they all spun around to see George Plumtre in a small rowboat.

  “Good morning, Miss Makepiece!” He paused with his oars out of the water, letting his boat drift into the reeds. “Perhaps you will do the honor of joining me on a boat ride. The lake is peaceful this time of the morning, and I can show you where the swans nest.”

  Nathaniel’s hand left her sleeve as if it had stung him somehow.

  Diana didn’t know what to do. The idea of a boat ride with mournful George was not inspiring, but he looked so hopeful. Suddenly his sisters were pushing her forward.

  “Do go with Georgy. You will cheer his mood again, Miss Makepiece.”

  “He is in need of your gentle company,” Susanna whispered. “You are so very good for him.”

  Horrified, Diana realized now why they had dragged her half a mile over muddy grass. She looked up at Nathaniel and saw his expression closed off in an odd way. He stared at George and then at her again, but he said nothing as the young ladies steered her toward the boat. His lips formed a straight, firm line, all merriment gone.

  It was too late to refuse now; to do so would be rude. What excuse could she possibly come up with, anyway? Two moments later she was seated in the other end of the dangerously rocking rowboat and moving away from the group at the bank. She could hear the Miss Plumtres laughing and chattering, but she didn’t look back.

  She blew out a deep breath and tried to smile at George.

  “How fortuitous that you should be out walking with my sisters,” he said, apparently not at all aware of the machinations of womanhood.

  “Yes,” she replied with a sigh.

  Diana Makepiece, you might as well resign yourself to the fact that you had your chance. No need to sulk! Sherry might have announced his intention to find a bride, but as he had said at the dining table last night, he would not ask the same woman twice, especially after the harsh way she refused him the first time.

  In any case, she didn’t want a man. And he would be better off with one of the Plumtre sisters. They had youth on their side and—as Elizabeth had said—considerable quickness of mind, as well as beauty.

  No, no, Captain Sherringham could have no interest in Diana anymore. He had offered his horse merely to be kind, considerate of her advanced years no doubt. He had grabbed her sleeve only to save her from an embarrassing trip into the water. It was his way with any woman.

  Oh Lord, Gloomy George was already reciting more poetry as he heaved on the oars and the little boat rocked with passion. This time, he assured her, the rhymes were his own creation.

  Diana peered over the edge into the dark water and wondered how shocked they would all be if she dove in and swam for the reeds.

  She had absolutely no doubt that only one of the men on the bank would actually leap in to save her if they thought she was drowning. Captain Sherringham wouldn’t be able to keep himself from rescuing her.

  That would certainly give Elizabeth something else to complain about, Diana mused.

  Fancy trying to drown yourself just to get attention.

  Perhaps she’d save that idea for warmer weather.

  When she closed her eyes she saw his image again, framed by the sun as he removed that naughty child from her back, lifted it high overhead with his strapping arms, and laughed, spinning around. And around. His strong, capable arms.

  * * *

  Nathaniel watched the little boat drifting away. Again she had slipped out of his grasp. As he listened to the young ladies, he realized quickly that they had settled on Diana as a perfect match for the bereaved man. Someone to bring him out of his grief.

  He was forced to admit that Diana’s soft, pleasing voice and sensible manner would be very good for George. But that didn’t mean he had to condone the idea.

  Was that why her mother had sent her to Bath? Diana seemed to be of the opinion that she didn’t need a husband, but of course her mother would want to see her well settled, regardless of Diana’s intentions. The Plumtres were landed and wealthy, and they had now formed a connection with the Clarendons, which must make them a suitable family—at least in Mrs. Rosalind Makepiece’s view.

  “We think Diana is perfectly delicious, don’t you, Captain?” one of the young ladies exclaimed. “We are quite enchanted with her.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Perfectly delicious.” So sweet she made his teeth ache. Not to mention the other parts at her mercy. Even if she had tried to get away from his side so adamantly that she almost ended up in the lake. Was his closeness that abhorrent to her?

  Good then. If she stayed out of his way, he wouldn’t have to suffer so many confused thoughts and be seized by that utterly humiliating desire. Or smell her dratted perfume.

  “I must see the plans for the folly,” Lady Plumtre exclaimed. “Why am I not asked my opinion? I’m sure I know more about these things than my country cousin.”

  Nathaniel readily gave up holding his side of the plans and walked a short way off, pretending to admire the scenery, but he was soon joined by the excitable Plumtre girls who wanted to point out every item of interest on their brother’s estate.

  “Do you like to fish, Captain?” Susanna asked. He replied that he did, but that he invariably
felt too sorry for the captured fish and threw it back.

  “I prefer to swim,” said Daisy proudly. “I was once dared to swim all the way across the lake.”

  “And you sank like a stone when you were not halfway across,” her sister replied. “It was lucky there were people boating that day and within reach to provide rescue.”

  “I did not sink! I was caught on some weeds.”

  “Daisy can never let a dare pass her by, Captain. Much to the detriment of my nerves.”

  He laughed. “A young lady of gumption, eh?”

  “I am not afraid of anything,” the girl assured him, chin up, arms swinging. “Why should I be?”

  “Quite. I do admire a determined spirit. There are too few of them about these days. Too many women cowed by the constraints of propriety.”

  When they returned to the lodge for the promised luncheon, Jonty soon had Nathaniel’s ear, away from the women, and made it clear that his thoughts were aligned with those of his young sisters.

  “That charming Miss Makepiece would be excellent for George. Shake him out of his grief. I am so glad she came. Such a delightful girl. Something so very soothing and reassuring about her presence.”

  Nathaniel watched the couple together. Diana was livelier than he had seen her in a long time. She was smiling and chatty, not hiding away as she used to. George trailed after her like a lost pup, and she appeared to have great patience for it. Not once did he hear her snap out a curt comment—ask the fellow whether his jacket buttons were caught on her gown or something similar, which was what she would say if Nathaniel scampered after her in the same manner. Nor did she shrink away in abject horror when that man stood near. Too near.

  His irritation mounted, quite spoiling the sunny afternoon.

  Damn her then, he thought crossly, if she could be impressed by a milksop who did nothing but droop over books all day. But if that was what she preferred, so be it.

  When Lady Plumtre asked Nathaniel whether he would like more tea, he snapped out that he’d had enough, and everyone looked at him in astonishment. He coughed, laughed uneasily, and quickly turned to Jonty, raising the subject of hounds and their training.

  Later, when the opportunity arose, he moved closer to where Diana and George were seated together and in quiet conversation. He hadn’t meant to contribute to it, merely to stand near and listen, but Diana turned to him suddenly and said, “We were talking of poetry, Captain Sherringham. I do not suppose you know much of it.”

  Of course she would suppose that, he thought angrily. “I know poetry,” he grumbled.

  She looked smug. “What is your favorite? That charming nursery poem ‘The Butterfly’s Ball,’ I suppose?”

  “No. ‘To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time.’”

  Diana’s smile was slight, oozing condescension, so Nathaniel cleared his throat and began to recite from memory.

  “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,

  Old Time is still a-flying;

  And this same flower that smiles today

  Tomorrow will be dying.”

  The smile drained from her lips. Surprise lifted her brows.

  He continued,

  “The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,

  The higher he’s a-getting,

  The sooner will his race be run,

  And nearer he’s to setting.

  That age is best which is the first,

  When youth and blood are warmer;

  But being spent, the worse, and worst

  Times still succeed the former.”

  Until he began to recite the poem aloud, Nathaniel wasn’t certain he would remember it all, but the gratification he felt when he saw how he’d shocked her helped his memory retrieve the words read long ago. Her eyes kept growing larger. He looked down into those lush green pools and swam in them.

  “Then be not coy, but use your time,

  And while ye may, go marry;

  For having lost but once your prime,

  You may forever tarry.”

  Susanna and Daisy Plumtre applauded with enthusiasm, and Jonty squeezed glum George’s shoulder and bellowed that it was a timely reminder.

  “I am impressed,” Diana admitted quietly. “Not a word missed, Captain.”

  “May you never again doubt a gentleman’s capacity for poetry.”

  “Indeed, I shan’t.”

  “Or judge him by appearances.”

  “Quite.” She lowered her lashes, hiding the glitter of emeralds.

  “Or think he does not hold a great many things in his memory.”

  “They say that elephants have good memories,” she pointed out.

  He nodded. “Wonderful, majestic creatures, elephants.”

  “They also mate indiscriminately and their courtship, once the urge is upon the bull elephant, lasts less than half an hour.”

  Eyes narrowed, he studied her impertinent countenance. She rolled her lips together, clearly withholding a chuckle. Jonty, however, laughed loudly at her comment and eventually so did the others. Except for Lady Plumtre who apparently didn’t get the joke.

  “Elephants? Who cares anything about elephants?”

  Nathaniel suggested, “Other elephants, I’m sure. And apparently Miss Makepiece, who has made some study of the animals, it seems.”

  “I find the study of all beasts interesting,” Diana explained.

  “I shall have to take care then, or you might start to study me.”

  Her lashes flickered, her brows twitched. “Perhaps I already have.”

  “Alas!” Grinning, he held a hand to his heart. “And what have you discovered?”

  Before she could speak, Lady Plumtre exclaimed, “She’s always reading books in a corner somewhere. It gives her a terrible stoop, as you see.”

  Everyone looked at Diana, who had no such stoop.

  “I always warned her it would have such an effect,” Lady Plumtre added, her tone superior and self-satisfied.

  Diana picked up her teacup and soon had her ear requisitioned by George again.

  Seventeen

  Over the next few days, Diana was hauled around the streets of Bath to sample every delight in the company of the Plumtres. Remembering that Elizabeth had accused her of deliberately trying to win the family’s affections away from her, she often tried to refuse the events they planned, but there was no stopping the daughters of the house. Diana began to think that if she locked herself in her chamber, they might drop down the chimney or climb through her window.

  So she shopped and tasted and admired until her head spun. She was paraded about the Pump Room, and up and down the Crescent to spot new fashions. Susanna and Daisy were tireless—their mama hardly less so. Elizabeth frequently protested, trying to find reasons for Diana to stay behind with her whenever she did not want to go out.

  “Diana prefers to stay quiet and at home,” she would say. “She has not the urge to be out and about all the time.”

  But her in-laws did not settle for that. It was shocking, but they insisted on treating Diana as a person with her own opinions and wishes, and an ability to speak for herself.

  One afternoon about two o’clock, as they all walked around the Pump Room, Diana overheard a group of ladies by the fountain mention Captain Sherringham. She discreetly followed the path of their sly, darting gazes and saw him with Mrs. Sayles and her aunt, Mrs. Ashby. How strange it was, she mused, that she had run into him once again.

  Bath must not be such a large place after all.

  The ladies at the fountain were in a giddy state, gossiping about his companion’s brassy hair. Diana thought them all a little too mature to be acting like silly girls, but as much as she might wish not to hear their conversation, it was impossible to avoid. She certainly could not distract herself with the water. It was hot and possessed an awful taste,
worse than any medicinal concoction she’d ever tasted.

  Looking around, Diana suddenly realized she’d become separated from the rest of her party. And the crowd had grown, a large wave pushing her closer to the gossiping bunch at the fountain.

  “He has been avoiding Madame De La Barque since he returned to Bath,” one of the women was saying. “He used to frequent her house, but goes there no more. They say it’s been years.”

  “The same of Lady Fincher, so I was told by a very good source. He will not answer her invitations, yet he was once quite a favorite at her afternoon salon where, as you know”—here the gossiper lowered her voice, although Diana could still hear clearly above the music being played in the gallery—“all manner of wickedness went on into the small hours.”

  “Although he had lost favor with Lady Fincher when he told her she had bad breath. He was drunk, no doubt.”

  “But honest in his assessment of Lady Fincher’s breath. In vino veritas. In wine there is truth.”

  They all broke into unpleasant titters.

  “I heard he spent his last visit to Bath shouting rude epigrams from a theater box, losing at faro, and chasing after the wayward wife of a cabbage vendor. There was something about a rejected marriage proposal—to some little country girl. It put him in a terrible mood that winter, and then he just up and left.”

  “If he wasn’t extremely pleasing to the eye, I’m quite sure he never would have been welcomed in any grand lady’s salon. He ought to be grateful, but he bit the hand that fed him too many times.”

  Another woman snorted. “They’d still take him back again the moment he flashed those blue eyes. He’s never sorry, because he knows how to get around the worst tempers. There is no one else like Sherry. No one can compare in the boudoir. He knows how to…”

  Much to her irritation, she could not hear the next few words, because the band playing in the gallery had reached a stirring crescendo. Only intermittent gasps reached her ears.

  “And then he…”

  “But he never…”

  “With her feet over her head, for pity’s sake…”

  “Under the table…”