The Trouble with His Lordship’s Trousers Page 23

  Finally it was Georgiana's turn. With baited breath she waited until the little tube of paper shot forth into her palm. Then, slowly she unrolled it and read,

  'Tis one thing to be tempted, another thing to fall.

  "Do read it out loud," Mrs. Swanley exclaimed. "We must know what it says for you."

  But she hid it quickly and laughed it off, not meeting Harry's eye. She had no doubt that he had made these fortunes himself and set them inside his aunt's owl to entertain his guests.

  But was this "fortune" a polite warning for her, or did her blushes amuse him?

  * * * *

  "There you are, Miss Hathaway," his cousin bellowed upon seeing her enter the dining room for breakfast one morning. "We are going boating on the lake, and I insist you ride with me. My cousin has quite suddenly decided to open the summerhouse."

  She glanced over at Harry, who wore all the proper garments today— shirt, waistcoat, neck-cloth and coat. Only his hair remained in its usual disheveled state. For once he was not reading at the table, but paying attention to the conversation of his guests.

  "I thought it was time I aired the place out," he said. "Mrs. Swanley can get a better feel for the house if she views it from the lake." And he looked down at his plate, deliberately, Georgiana sensed, not meeting her eye. Why suddenly did he avoid looking at her again? "It is a perfect day for boating and fun. As you say, Miss Hathaway, everybody needs some of that. One never knows when the English summer weather might change for the worse."

  The summerhouse, Georgiana knew, was a small building with arched windows on all four sides and a weathervane on the top. It sat on its own grassy island in the middle of the lake and, according to Brown, was full of mildew for it had not been used, or aired out, in years— since Harry was a boy.

  At that moment the dining room door opened and Lady Bramley swept in, holding an opened letter.

  "Are you coming boating too, Lady Bramley?" Georgiana asked.

  "No. I must oversee arrangements for the card party tonight. Indeed I have a hundred things to do."

  "Perhaps I should stay and help you."

  "No, no. You go and enjoy yourself on the lake, while you still can. The summer will not last forever and you'll be going home soon enough to Allerton Square." Lady Bramley waved her letter. "I received correspondence from your father this morning and he is in some haste for you to return home. It seems your mother has taken to her confinement earlier than expected and two of your younger siblings have fallen ill. He is quite overwhelmed by the household chaos and requests that you return to be of assistance. Apparently you are useful in such situations and are known to have a calm head when nursing the sick. He suggests sending a carriage for you at the end of the week, but you may take mine, of course."

  Georgiana felt as if the floor dropped away beneath her feet. The room spun and then came to an abrupt halt. She had been so caught up in her games with Harry that she had barely noticed the summer slipping by. She might have known these happy days could not last.

  "But what about the ball?" she managed at last.

  "Yes. That is a pity, but I daresay we shall manage without you. You are needed at home, and I can hardly keep you from your father just for a ball."

  Had somebody stuck a pin in her and let all the air out? Just like that the rest of that summer was wrenched away from her.

  "But do take care not to fall into the lake today," the lady continued. "My son rows a boat just as he dances— with his eyes closed and trusting to fate."

  "Nonsense, mama, I shall be on my very best behavior with such precious cargo on my little boat," Max Bramley gushed, beaming across the table at Georgiana, whose own lips had gone numb. "And I shall most certainly keep my eyes open to train them upon this lovely lady while we still have her."

  * * * *

  Max Bramley was one of those men who thought the way to impress a woman was to scare her half to death.

  The moment she was in that little rowboat with him he began foolishly rocking it about, pretending he would capsize the thing if she did not smile at him. He could not possibly be drunk as it was too early in the day, so Georgiana could only conclude he imagined this irritating behavior to be entertaining.

  Perhaps there was a time when she would have shrieked at the thrill of it and slapped at him with her bonnet, but she was much too mature for these childish antics now. She sat rigidly in her end of the boat, gripped Lady Bramley's parasol over her shoulder, and advised Mr. Bramley to conserve his energy for the exercise of rowing the boat there and back. In the heat of the day he was already perspiring heavily and the exertions of performing for her would surely cause him to melt away entirely.

  "Miss Hathaway, you must tell me all about your time at that ladies academy," he exclaimed with a sly grin. "I long to know what goes on in such places." He pulled back jerkily and unevenly on the oars, splashing more water onto her skirt as the rowboat lurched across the surface of the lake with absolutely none of the smooth, graceful motion for which it was built.

  "I doubt it would be of much interest to you, Mr. Bramley." She was really not in the mood for this jaunt across the lake, especially not since it had been pointed out to her that the summer would be over for her soon enough. Sooner than expected. A week from now she would be back in her father's house, on Allerton Square, and all this would seem very far away. She would be sewing by the fire, listening to her little siblings squabbling and rain tapping at the windows, being nagged by her stepmother for some minor indiscretion. No doubt the second Mrs. Hathaway would be even shorter-tempered and harder to please when she was in this condition.

  Woodbyne Abbey would seem like a different world.

  "No interest in your school, Miss Hathaway? On the contrary. That ladies academy is of great interest. One should always attempt to uncover the secrets of the enemy camp."

  "Enemy camp?"

  "They teach you strategy against gentlemen like me at that school, do they not? They teach you cunning measures by which to capture my heart and throw me in irons."

  He said a lot more, but she was looking across at the other boat and wondering what Harry could find to talk about with Mrs. Swanley. There appeared to be a great deal of parasol twirling and laughter going on. "I'm sorry, what?"

  "It is all about hoodwinking the unsuspecting male into marriage."

  "Hoodwinking?" She had never heard that word before.

  "To blind by covering the eyes, Miss Hathaway. The female animal, intent on courtship, enlists many rotten methods to mislead the male and leave him completely befuddled."

  "I would never want to hoodwink anybody, Mr. Bramley."

  "But you are looking for a husband, are you not?"

  She gave an exasperated sigh. "No, I am not."

  "All single ladies are seeking an eligible bachelor, Miss Hathaway." He jerked on the oars again and the boat rocked. "I know all your battle plans to scupper us."

  "Goodness," she exclaimed, "I'm surprised you want to spend any time with ladies if we are so very devious. It cannot be good for your health to always be on your guard against us."

  He laughed. "You have me there. I simply cannot stay away. Like strong drink, Faro and horse races, the ladies are bad for me and yet here I am, constantly drawn in by their beguiling methods of distraction."

  "Perhaps you let yourself be drawn in because you enjoy it. I know few men who are forced to enjoy themselves, not many who do not do exactly what they want to do."

  Again she looked over at the other boat. Sunlight, dancing on the water, leapt up and dazzled her sight, making her eyes water. Quickly she adjusted Lady Bramley's parasol to shade her face from the glare. The last thing she needed was another freckle.

  "I do enjoy it when I have such pretty company as I have today," he said.

  "Yes," she murmured, "Mrs. Swanley is very beautiful."

  "And I do love it when I have a lady's full attention."

  "I suppose she has more sophisticated conversation and knows a
ll the right things to say."

  The boat drifted and bobbed as he lifted his oars out of the water and leaned forward. "Miss Hathaway, you really must try to hide your feelings a little better. It won't do to let him see you're smitten."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  Max shook his head. "It seems they didn't teach you how to be aloof at that school, eh?"

  Aloof? It was too late for that, she thought, chagrinned.

  "The trouble with Harry is that he's been alone too long. He's out of practice with women, as I warned him weeks ago." He pulled back on the oars again. "Don't let him break your heart, Miss Hathaway. Remember he doesn't know what he's doing. Doesn't know his own strength. It is best not to take anything he says or does to heart."

  Yes, she had been warned by everybody. Even Harry had referred to the holes in his brain and told her she stayed there at her own risk. Yet she had cast all those warnings aside and taken the banister. Would she land, yet again, without dignity? It was too late now. Already sliding down, she could not be stopped without injury.

  He had said nothing about the news that came that morning. Did not seem to have any opinion about her leaving his house. Why would he? And why should it matter so to her? She would move on to another adventure.

  Or not.

  Her father's letter seemed to suggest he expected her to go home and play nursemaid to her young siblings, to attend her stepmother in the months of confinement, and to manage the house for him. It might be that she never had another chance to escape again, and she would be trapped there taking care of the children that his second wife continually produced.

  With this glum thought on her mind, she let Max Bramley take her hand and help her out of the boat. The summerhouse doors were all open and vases filled with roses helped sweeten the fusty air inside. A mildewed sofa had been covered with a silk embroidered blanket and a silver dish of strawberries sat waiting on a small table. Clearly Harry had prepared the place for their visit.

  He must really want to impress his guests with the view, but did they have to come all the way out here to see it, she thought churlishly. Her feet and gown were now wet thanks to Max Bramley's clumsy rowing and the boat had been so ill-managed on the journey across the lake that Georgiana felt certain she had thrice come close to falling in and drowning.

  Perhaps she did not like boats and water so much after all and would have been a very poor sailor, had she been born male and therefore given the opportunity.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It was warm inside, sunlight beaming down through the many glass panels, and Georgiana thought it the prettiest place on the grounds, despite its damp and neglected state. With a little care the summerhouse could be quite beautiful, but the same could be said of everything on the estate. With only the aging Brown and part-time Sulley to maintain the place it had been sinking slowly in the past few years.

  Hopefully, since Harry was ready to open the summerhouse again, he felt the same about the rest of his house. There was definitely a brighter, more cheerful air inside the Abbey these days.

  He now stood with Mrs. Swanley, pointing out the house from this view. The pride in his stance made it clear he loved the place, however much of a burden others might think it.

  "Do have a strawberry, Miss Hathaway." Mr. Bramley stood beside her with the silver dish of juicy crimson berries. So she took one and sat upon the sofa. "I hope I have not deflated your mood," he added, hovering beside her. "I meant it only for your own good."

  "Yes, of course."

  "I have known my cousin thirty years, faults and all," he whispered. "Since he returned from sea he's been rather difficult to deal with, hence my mother's concern, I suppose."

  "And yours, Mr. Bramley."

  "Mine?"

  "When you brought Mrs. Swanley here."

  He took out a handkerchief and wiped his glistening neck. Evidently he was not a man used to the exertion of rowing across a lake.

  "I am not so naive, Mr. Bramley, that I do not know her original purpose here and it was not to paint the house."

  He sneezed and blew his nose, muttering about the summer air being filled with "floating things".

  "I am sure both you and Lady Bramley had the best of intentions and your own ideas for getting him out of his study," she added.

  "Quite. You are something new and lively, of course. Something to shake up the dust. My mother knew that when she brought you here."

  That was not what Georgiana meant. She was thinking of the lady's idea for a ball to reintroduce her nephew to society and find him a wife. But Max Bramley apparently had much to get off his chest and he gave her no chance to speak just then.

  "The truth is, Miss Hathaway, I know a little more about what makes a man happy and I wisely chose a professional to help Harry out of his doldrums. I knew Mrs. Swanley would be in no danger of losing her way, or expecting something from my cousin that he is not able to give." He said all this in a kindly voice, as if she was a little girl to whom he had to explain a hard truth. "My mother, on the other hand, has chosen an amateur, a novice for this task. I fear she did not give due consideration to the wounds you might suffer in the process. She gave no thought to the fact that you will, inevitably, be set adrift again. Sadly my mother thinks of people like you to be dispensable. You must not despise her for it. She cannot help the way she sees the world, and she is too old to learn anything new." He paused to rip a fat strawberry from its emerald stem and swallow it so quickly she could not believe he tasted it. "Your heart is vulnerable, but she did not think of that when she brought you here. Your every thought and feeling is apparent on your face, my dear girl. As I said, they didn't school you on the art of being aloof, did they?"

  She stared out across the still lake. On this little island they were surrounded by water that shone in all directions like a polished mirror reflecting the midday sun. It should have been beautiful, but the day was spoiled now by a shadow which, although unseen, was nonetheless pervasive. "People like me? You said she thinks of people like me to be dispensable?"

  "You must not mind me, Miss Hathaway. Nobody ever does mind me, as Harry would tell you." With quick fingers he searched through the silver bowl for one of the plumpest, most succulent offerings, clumsily squashing a few smaller berries in the process. "I would not blame you for trying to win my cousin over while you are here. For a newspaperman's daughter it would be quite a coup. You landed on your feet the moment you caught my mama's notice and she is eager for Harry to produce those long-awaited heirs to Woodbyne. I suppose you seized your opportunity as any clever girl would."

  What Bramley meant, of course, was that she was not of their class. Whether he tried to be kind and helpful, or simply to insult her and put her in her place, she could not decide

  "But life with my dear cousin Harry— despite all this," he gestured across the lake, so that anyone watching would think him harmlessly pointing out the scenery, "would not be smooth sailing. You would both be desperate to get out within a year. Even if you managed to get him to the altar in the first place." He laughed emptily. "Surely he has told you his thoughts on marriage— how he is not fit for it. The little Milhaven hussy dug her nails in the moment he let down his guard, and I daresay he never recovered from that travesty."

  A moment later the Commander left Mrs. Swanley and, with both hands behind his back, strode over to where they sat. This cut off their conversation, much to her intense relief.

  "What do you think of the view, Miss Hathaway?"

  "Breathtaking, sir." But her head was hurting, her thoughts racing.

  "It was worth coming all this way across the lake in the company of my irritating cousin?"

  "Certainly." She did not want to smile at him too much. Suddenly she was very self-conscious as she realized her growing admiration for Harry must have been so easy to read upon her face. If Mr. Bramley noticed it, even in his frequent state of intoxication, she must have made herself dreadfully obvious. Restraint had never been one of her ass
ets.

  No wonder Harry kept referring to her youth in a mocking fashion. He would never take her seriously. And Lady Bramley, who usually thought she knew best about everything and insisted upon getting her own way, gave no opposition when her father wanted her home? Perhaps they were all eager to be rid of her now. Perhaps the lady feared she had ambitions above her station in life, as Maxwell Bramley suggested. Had he whispered in his mother's ear too?

  "Offer the strawberries to Mrs. Swanley, will you, Max?" Harry muttered.

  "You take them."

  But Harry stood firm and glowered down at his cousin so fiercely that Max eventually got up with a groan, grabbed the silver dish and stormed off to where the other lady waited by the bulrushes at the edge of the little island.

  Harry promptly dropped to the empty seat beside Georgiana. "What were you and my cousin conversing about so deeply? You looked enthralled."

  "Did I?" If she had a fan she would have fluttered it.

  He scowled, leaning forward, resting his arms on his thighs and with hands clasped together. "He's trying his arts upon you, no doubt."

  "Like you with Mrs. Swanley, sir, I can look after myself. It is all just silly games, is it not?"

  "Sir? Now we are back to that?"

  "I think it's for the best, don't you?" She took a deep breath. "At the end of this week I'll be gone, the game will be over, and we'll both have other things to think about."

  Harry turned his head. Hair flopped over the creases in his brow. "What prompted this change?"

  "It is not a change, sir, merely an observation of how quickly time passes and how we are destined to take separate paths." He was a man far above her in consequence, but she had allowed herself to forget that, too stupidly flattered by his attention and by Lady Bramley taking her in as a charity case. Even that little dog was in on it— letting her think she was a friend at last.

  And where would it all lead? To her ruin.

  There could be nothing else awaiting her at the end of this slippery banister. No one to catch her.

  "This was all for you, you know," he said quietly. "The trip out here. I thought you would like the summerhouse and the strawberries. I would have brought you here alone, had my cousin not decided to join us."