How To Rescue A Rake (Book Club Belles Society 3) Page 23

  Jonty lowered his voice and suddenly became very solemn, as she’d never yet seen him. “I fear for my little sisters. Wouldn’t like the girls to be looked down upon in the future. I know my wife considers me boorish, but that is just the way I am, Miss Makepiece. She knew that when she took me on. ’Tis too late for me to change and I see no reason for it. ’Tis different for a man, of course. I have a thick skin and not much troubles me. But Susy and Daisy—I should like them to belong, to fit in a little better.”

  Diana was moved by his great fondness for those two sparkling creatures and envious of the easy way he expressed it. He loved his sisters and didn’t hide it, didn’t see anything amiss with letting them know. Of course, that did give the girls rather too much rein, because they knew they wouldn’t be punished. They knew how to get around their adoring great lummox of a brother.

  “I should send the girls to your mama, what ho? Let them come under her strict thumb.” He laughed, back to his usual jovial self. “I think they would soon upset the peaceful quiet of your little village, Miss Makepiece.”

  “Oh, it’s not so very quiet there. I believe as much goes on there as in Bath, but not as many people get to witness it.”

  A short while later, while there was a pause in the music and they all applauded, Sir Jonty left her side to speak to his sisters. Diana saw George Plumtre getting up and moving toward her, as if intent on taking his brother’s vacated seat, but suddenly Sherry was there instead, claiming the spot. George was obliged to divert his course midstep, and had only two choices—to return, looking foolish, to his own chair, or to take the empty one beside Mrs. Sayles. He chose the latter.

  Diana’s heart skipped giddily as she felt the tapestry cushion beside her sink and, in her peripheral vision, saw Nathaniel’s legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, the leisurely pose of a man who was comfortable and self-assured. Here he came to do his “wooing.”

  “You look very well today, Miss Makepiece.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  “The flowers in your hair have distracted me all afternoon.”

  She had rather impulsively taken some white baby’s breath from a little posy on her dressing table and tucked it into her hair. “Yes,” she replied, feeling foolish. Hopefully she would not now break into Plumtre giggles.

  “Looks like pearls from a distance, or little stars caught up in all that luscious midnight hair.”

  Diana threw him a hasty, bemused glance. “Very poetic, Captain. I’m sure if you look closely you may see some gray among the midnight.”

  He laughed, leaning back into the corner of the sofa. “No, not a strand. I think you must have found the secret of eternal youth here in Bath.”

  Susanna Plumtre now gestured for Diana to take her seat at the pianoforte, but Sherry abruptly shifted a few inches closer and trapped her skirt under his thigh. “Stay a moment,” he murmured from the corner of his mouth.

  “As it happens I am not in the mood to play, so I will pretend I haven’t seen her.”

  “How lucky for me that you are not in the mood to play. With them.” His hand found hers on the cushion between them, and he stroked the back of it gently with one fingertip. She shivered.

  Jonty’s sisters were excited about a concert they longed to attend. This discussion soon swept everyone up in a whirlwind of noise, and the two people on the sofa were temporarily forgotten.

  “Certain expectations have been raised by your behavior, Captain,” Diana warned him steadily. “You spend so much time at Wollaford that Sir Jonty thinks you will make an offer for one of his sisters very soon. He is beside himself with joy at the prospect.”

  He chuckled. “You know why I come here, Diana.”

  “To ride out with Sir Jonty and rescue stray hats?”

  “Of course.” He suddenly stretched his arm along the back of the sofa and tickled the nape of her neck, twisting a small curl around his finger. “Hats and other lost items that no one else dare retrieve.”

  If anyone looked over at the sofa, they would see his impropriety. Diana made an effort to slip her skirt out from under his thigh, but then his hand left the curl and came down to cover her fingers. Her breath squeezed out in short, hard gasps.

  “I come here to see you,” he whispered. “To admire your beauty, which strikes my heart anew each time I see it. No flowers in your hair can compete with that. They wilt in comparison to such delicate features. They bow their heads in deference.”

  “Oh, do stop. You’re making my spleen ache.”

  “That’s not your spleen.” He leaned closer. “Don’t pretend you can’t see your own beauty, Diana. False modesty is not becoming. Be bold and know what you are. Know your own worth and stand up for it.” His breath warmed her skin, skimming over her cheek with a partial kiss that was also a sigh, unheard and unseen by anybody but her. Then he stood and left her, strolling over to join the others around the pianoforte.

  She saw him whisper something to Jonty, who then looked over his shoulder at Diana and exclaimed, “Miss Makepiece, you must attend the concert with us too, of course. Sherry says you have a fine ear for music.”

  “We’ll all go,” Nathaniel said firmly.

  Jonty clapped his hands together, making his wife jump in her chair. “It will be a jolly company,” he roared.

  “Diana will not want to go,” Elizabeth grumbled. “She has no reason to attend a concert, and she has been out too much as it is. Why would anyone want to sit and listen to music for hours on end with no respite? There will be no one there of any account, I’m sure. Diana can stay with me.”

  Every eye was suddenly upon Diana. There she was on the other side of the room, seated alone on the sofa and minding her own business, but now startled to be the center of all focus. She drew her feet further under the sofa and clasped her hands tightly together, taking up as little room as possible while she was being observed with pity and irritation.

  “But the Viscountess Blakeney and her companion, Lady Dodsworth, will attend,” Nathaniel cunningly intervened. “I was almost certain you would want to be there, Lady Plumtre. I’m surprised to hear you criticize a concert patronized by those ladies.”

  That naturally changed Elizabeth’s mind for her, but she found another reason for Diana not to be included. “There will not be enough room in the barouche for all of us. I refuse to be packed in too tightly yet again.”

  “But that’s part of the fun,” Daisy exclaimed.

  “Indeed it is not! It is undignified to arrive at the assemblies all squashed together, and I must wear my new taffeta silk which crumples if it is not well spread out.”

  Daisy fell back into a chair without the slightest attempt at grace and exhaled a hearty “Fergalumph!”

  There was a pause and then Sherry said, “It is a concert of Bach, and Miss Makepiece was just telling me that he is a favorite of hers. You would not leave your house guest behind, surely? Even if it costs you a few more wrinkles.”

  Diana had never told him that Bach was a favorite, yet it was true. Somehow he must have found out.

  Elizabeth’s scowl might have shriveled the toes of a lesser man. “I merely point out the practicalities. My husband never thinks of them while he is inviting all and sundry on these jaunts.”

  The others blanched at hearing Diana described as “all and sundry,” but she was not surprised. She understood now that she’d only been sent for because Elizabeth had anticipated a “frail” cousin’s support in everything she said against the Plumtres. Expecting a Clarendon ally, a pale shadow, Elizabeth had instead found herself even more disgruntled and outnumbered.

  “I’m sure we can arrange something,” said Sherry, “if Miss Makepiece does desire to attend.” He looked over at her, the blue of his eyes so intense and touching her in a shockingly intimate way. Encouraging and supporting all at once. “Does the lady desire?”

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nbsp; “Yes,” she managed, slightly hoarse and ignoring her cousin’s hard stare. “I should like to attend the concert.”

  “Good.” He grinned broadly. “That’s settled then!”

  “What about me?” Caroline Sayles demanded. “I like to hear a good tune.”

  This, of course, had been one of Elizabeth’s greatest fears when the invitation first began to expand. “We definitely have no room for you in the barouche,” she replied speedily.

  “Surely we can make room,” said Daisy. “Having everybody crammed in makes it more fun!”

  Clearly disgruntled, but with no one else taking her side, Elizabeth was obliged to say, “Captain Sherringham must find space for Mrs. Sayles then, if she means to come too.”

  There was a pause, and then Nathaniel said, “Mr. George Plumtre, I believe I heard you mention a splendid new curricle recently purchased. One that is free of drafts and has a cushioned seat of the highest quality.”

  Awoken suddenly to his chance of being and doing something important at last, George somberly assured the group that he would take a passenger in the new curricle about which he’d boasted earlier. And then he added, “Miss Makepiece will be quite safe with me.”

  Nathaniel’s face fell, his plans obviously trumped, but Diana saw the keen smiles of his sisters and mother, so she could do nothing but accept George’s offer, not wanting to disappoint them. She caught the tail end of Nathaniel’s scowl before he turned away again.

  She raised a hand to her cheek, where she still felt the brief and secret graze of his lips.

  Those flowers in her hair were definitely causing mischief.

  But she had not set out to cause any jealousy. At least, she did not think she had. It was a wickedly pleasant sensation, no denying it. Was it possible that she enjoyed it a little too much?

  She had better come to her senses and put a stop to it. Tomorrow at the concert, she would make certain George Plumtre knew she regarded him as a friend only and nothing more.

  As for Nathaniel…he told her it wasn’t her spleen that he endangered. She suspected he was right.

  Unfortunately she felt her cousin’s eyes regarding her with chilly resentment, worse than before, and Diana wondered if she was not the only one who had begun to suspect.

  Twenty

  Nathaniel borrowed a curricle from a business acquaintance, but he did not ride to Westgate Buildings to fetch Mrs. Sayles. He rode to the lodge early, knowing that Diana was always punctual and would probably be waiting with her coat on. Didn’t want her having too much time to think and come up with excuses when he turned up at her door instead of George, did he?

  To his surprise, she was not waiting but still above stairs. Nathaniel was shown into the drawing room where he found Jonty and Lady Plumtre in evening dress, ready for the concert.

  He hurriedly explained there had been a change of plan with the travel arrangements. “Mrs. Sayles was feeling under the weather and decided to stay at home with her aunt. Since I have the room, I thought I had better fill it with Miss Makepiece.”

  “But what about George?” Sir Jonty exclaimed.

  “I understand there was some trouble with the new curricle. He said he would be delayed and asked me to make his apologies.” Nathaniel didn’t like to lie to his new friend, but Diana was worth it. He would do anything for her, he realized, and to have her company for himself alone.

  “Well, that’s a dashed sorry business! I warned him not to buy off that fellow Wilson. I’ve never had any luck with the vehicles he sells, have I, Lizzie?”

  His wife ignored him and focused her spiteful eyes on Nathaniel. “Diana has been in such a tizzy all day. I cannot think why. It is only a concert.”

  Jonty replied, “She must not get so much excitement at home. ’Tis no wonder she is all at sixes and sevens. These young ladies do like to make a bit of a fuss over their pretty frocks.” He strode to the brandy decanter on the sideboard. “Anybody want a stiffener before we go?”

  His wife pulled on her long, white gloves. “Well, I doubt anyone cares what dress she wears. No one is going to be looking at her amid such exalted company, are they?”

  “I shall,” Nathaniel replied quietly.

  Sir Jonty didn’t hear. Discovering the crystal decanter lighter than he expected, he now marched to the door, shouting at the dogs that got under his feet and hollering for the butler to bring another bottle.

  His wife, however, had heard Nathaniel’s comment.

  “I hope you know, Captain,” said Lady Plumtre, “that my cousin is not in the market for a husband. Although you stated your own desire for a wife, Diana did not come to Bath for that.”

  “Is that so?”

  “She is to be my companion in the future. Her mother needs somewhere to put her, naturally, and I can give Diana a home.”

  “I doubt that is her mother’s plan.” He stopped hastily, remembering they were not supposed to have met before. “Most mothers want their daughters to marry well. They don’t generally resign them to the life of a spinster lady’s companion, especially when they are still so young.”

  Lady Plumtre laughed scathingly. “Young? You have been misled, perhaps by the eccentric way my sisters-in-law have encouraged her to dress. Diana Makepiece is soon to be eight-and-twenty. As for marriage, she gave that idea up some years ago when she broke off a long engagement. Her mother surely knows that Diana thwarted her own prospects then. She cannot expect another such chance to come her way. She has no dowry, nothing to recommend her really beyond a neat embroidery stitch and some little bit of skill at the pianoforte. She would have taken that other man while she could, if she had any desire to marry.”

  Her husband was on his way back across the room, tripping over his dogs a second time. “But, Lizzie, our George is quite besotted with her. Has his heart set on the lady.”

  She spun around to face him. “For pity’s sake, stop calling me by that dreadful name. I am Elizabeth. If you cannot remember it, don’t call me anything. And how can George be set on anybody when he was, not two weeks ago, grieving for another woman and swore he would never recover?”

  Jonty’s face reddened and he got on with pouring the brandy from a new bottle.

  “As for Diana,” Lady Plumtre continued snidely, “she is the worst woman for a man like George. She is cold and callous. Strung her fiancé along for two years and then, without the slightest warning, sent him away into the arms of another woman. Completely out of the blue she decided she could not marry him. So you see, Captain Sherringham, Diana is not looking for suitors. She is resolved to a future as my companion.”

  At first Nathaniel felt anger bubbling up inside. Of course the bloody woman wouldn’t tell him that she was the one who ended the engagement to Shaw. What was she afraid of? That Nathaniel might think she did it because of him? That she had ever regretted her choice?

  But the anger turned to something else when Diana entered the drawing room a few moments later. He began to wish he had accepted a glass of brandy from Jonty after all, for suddenly he needed the courage. He, who had never lacked it before around a beautiful woman.

  She had sent Shaw away. She had defied her mother after all. Could this be the truth?

  As for Diana being resigned to spinsterhood and spending the rest of her life at Lady Plumtre’s beck and call?

  Not likely. Not if he had any say in the matter.

  She claimed to want only a lover, a temporary amusement while she spread her wings in Bath. But he was not prepared to let her go again.

  He suffered a jolt of guilt as he thought of George whose heart was supposedly set on Diana. It was not entirely believable, considering the fellow’s mournful demeanor only so recently put aside, but she was an exceptional woman. Perhaps George Plumtre truly did have intentions toward her and it wasn’t merely a case of Jonty’s optimism taking that leap.

 
Was it wrong for him to want her still? To sweep her away from George?

  She wore a dark burgundy gown, simple and elegant, but she needed no embellishments. He realized it was the same dress she’d worn at the Manderson assemblies. Tonight, however, it looked different. Or was it simply the woman inside it who had changed? Her hair was softly curled about her face and tied up with a few bands of ribbon in a Grecian style. Small pearls hung from her ears—the only jewelry.

  “Well, I must say!” Jonty exclaimed, almost dropping his glass. “You look quite lovely, my dear.”

  A light pink suffused Diana’s cheeks and she looked at the carpet, her thick, dark lashes lowered. “I am sorry it took so long, but I had to wait for the maid.”

  “Well, if she hadn’t made an undue fuss over dressing me, you might have had her sooner,” her cousin remarked. “She was all thumbs dressing my hair and could not get it the way I wanted it. Useless girl. I really don’t know why I bother taking such young girls in to train them.”

  “Because she’s cheap, ain’t she?” Jonty laughed. “And it gives you someone else to shout at other than me, Lizzie.”

  Before Lady Plumtre could start berating her husband again, Nathaniel stepped up and bowed. “Miss Makepiece, I would gladly wait thrice the time for the pleasure of escorting such a beautiful lady to the Bath Assembly Rooms on a Wednesday evening.”

  Her lashes lifted and he saw the gleam of shock. “You’re here for me? But where is George…Mr. Plumtre?”

  Probably about to read a forged note from Mrs. Sayles begging him to fetch her from Westgate Buildings, he mused. “He had some trouble with his curricle and sent me in his place so you would not miss the beginning of the concert. Such a gentleman he is.”

  Diana gazed at Nathaniel as if she didn’t believe a word of it.

  “Shall we go?” he said.

  She hesitated, but finally took his arm. “Something about this is very odd. If not for Bach,” she muttered from the corner of her lips, “I would stay here and not mind if I was late.”