How To Rescue A Rake (Book Club Belles Society 3) Page 28

This was, of course, horrifying for Elizabeth—worse even than the accident that had rendered her sister-in-law unconscious. What made it even more unbearable was that her husband had known about the imminent engagement for some days and had kept it from her. Even her mother-in-law had known about George’s growing affection for the brassy-haired lady and been sworn to secrecy. Jonty explained that anxiety regarding Captain Sherringham’s possible claim upon the lady had necessitated this discretion.

  “George didn’t want to step on the good captain’s toes, of course,” Jonty told Diana. “I thought there might still be some…attachment, and Mrs. Sayles herself seemed to think there might be. But Sherry said he would let the lady make her own choice. He did not stand in George’s way.”

  She was puzzled by this, because Nathaniel had told her unequivocally that there was nothing between him and Caroline Sayles. Someone somewhere must have formed a misunderstanding.

  They learned that this romance had begun on the night of the concert. While Nathaniel had been concerned about how his “kidnapping” of Diana might cause trouble, George and Caroline had found their own scandal.

  “Elizabeth is furious,” Susanna whispered. “She thought that when the captain left Bath he’d take Mrs. Sayles with him.” She giggled. “Now she will never be rid of her.”

  Diana’s heart leaped two beats. “The captain left Bath?”

  “Oh yes, he’s gone. Quite gone. We shall all be quite bored without him, shan’t we?”

  Once again he’d left, she thought angrily. One curt good-bye while he was walking away from her and that was all the care he gave, even after she’d opened up so much for him, tried to prove herself daring and bold, instead of being the meek girl he once thought her. Even when he visited Daisy in her sick bed, he made no attempt to see Diana alone. He barely looked at her. Wretched man.

  What else could she have expected from that scoundrel?

  Her little rebellion was over and in a few weeks she would return to Hawcombe Prior, her own departure from Wollaford delayed now only by her nursing duties at Daisy’s bedside.

  She kept a stoic face while the two girls lamented the captain’s departure, but inside she ached. During her stay at Bath, Diana had learned so much about herself, had even learned to like the woman inside, to forgive her for the sinful thoughts that sometimes crept in. Had learned to loosen her stays and worry less. Had learned to speak up for herself and what she wanted.

  Now, as her time there drew to a close, she discovered something else. That pain she felt was not indigestion or colic or anything amiss with her spleen.

  It was love.

  * * *

  “Nate, you might have told us you were buying the Pig in a Poke!” his sister exclaimed when he arrived back in Hawcombe Prior on a sunny morning in early July.

  “I bought it for the brewery,” he explained. “But I’ve decided to take up residence there too.”

  His father was delighted, Rebecca no less so. Not everyone, of course, was quite so pleased to see him back again. And back to stay.

  While he supervised the raising of a new sign above his tavern, Sam Hardacre rode by with his cart and gave a reluctant greeting. Nathaniel waved for him to stop.

  “Have you asked Lucy to marry you yet?” he demanded of the ruddy-faced carpenter, coming directly to the point.

  The man’s face gathered like a fist. “She ain’t interested in me. Not now she’s moving on to bigger and better places.”

  Nathaniel shook his head. “There is no better place.” He should know, he mused, having traveled so much and having seen so many other towns and villages.

  “She won’t stay for a humble fellow like me.”

  “Then don’t be so humble! If I were you, I’d take the bull by the horns and snap that young lady up. Don’t let the chance pass you by.” He had seen Lucy watching Sam, waiting for him to notice her so she could pretend to look elsewhere. She was a girl who had yet to reconcile her mind to what her heart wanted. He had some familiarity with that.

  “You sound like a man with regrets, Cap’n.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, “but I mean to change all that before it’s too late.” He leaned against the side of the cart and looked up at Sam. “If you want some advice on how to win that girl of yours, you might want to read one of those novels. It seems that’s where the ladies get their ideas these days.”

  Sam thought for a breath and then said, “I’d rather learn from a man of experience, Cap’n.” He grinned. “If you’ll teach me.”

  Nathaniel rather liked that idea. No one had ever asked him to teach them anything. He straightened up, knuckles resting on his hips, and said with all due solemnity, “Very well, young Master Hardacre. You come by my father’s house for dinner this evening, and we’ll see what we have to work with.”

  Something caught his eye across the common. Sarah Wainwright was fluttering about, looking as if she’d lost something.

  “Seems Sir Morty is off wandering again,” Sam observed. “That damnable pig gets around. If you ask me, he needs a lusty sow to help him stop that restlessness.”

  Nathaniel trotted over to help, as usual unable to ignore a lady’s distress. He followed the indignant screams and a trail of damage into Mrs. Makepiece’s walled vegetable garden. Somehow Sir Mortimer Grubbins—the prizewinning Oxford Sandy and Black pig who was the unofficial mayor of Hawcombe Prior and Sarah’s pet—had found his way through Mrs. Makepiece’s passage while she cleaned her floor with the front door open. Now, having trotted directly through her kitchen and out her back door, the pig romped happily among her neat lines of cabbages, onions, and carrots in the garden behind her house. The lady chased him in circles, swiping at the beast with her straw bonnet, but he seemed to think it all a jolly game, his trotters cantering back and forth, gleefully making more and more mess.

  There was no time for the lady to react against Nathaniel when she saw who had come to her aid with Sarah. Desperate to be rid of the rampaging beast, and with her own energy and dignity depleted, she could only let him help.

  Fortunately for Nathaniel, he was not wearing his best suit of clothes. Within a few minutes the pig was safely corralled and on his way back to Willow Tree Farm. Sarah apologized profusely to the lady, and as they came back out through the front of the house, Mrs. Makepiece managed to reply that there was not too much damage.

  “You will make recompense, Sarah, of course,” Nathaniel said to his step-niece.

  “Yes, of course!”

  The grim lady muttered, “I’m sure I’ll survive.” She was breathless, disheveled, and not quite able to look Nathaniel in the eye. She had avoided him since his return. He wondered how much she knew about Diana’s time in Bath, how much Lady Plumtre would have told her out of spite.

  On his way out, he noticed a water stain on the wooden floor and looked up to where a damp patch was visible on the ceiling between the low beams. It was turning yellow with age, the plaster cracked.

  When he pointed it out to the lady, she explained dourly, “That spot leaks whenever it rains. Has done so for some time.”

  “Why did you not ask my father or brother-in-law to have it fixed?” She was, after all, one of his father’s tenants.

  “I… We can manage, Captain.”

  “Madam, if that patch spreads, it could bring down the plaster. The water could be rotting into the wood now.”

  She stared up at the ceiling and wrung her hands in a tight knot.

  “It will only get worse,” he added. “Must be coming in somewhere through the wall and soaking the beams between floors.” Nathaniel made up his mind. “I’ll bring a ladder this afternoon and see if I can mend it. And I’ll help you tidy that garden too.”

  He gave the lady no time to argue. Brisk, efficient, and determined, he took the bull by the horns, just as he’d advised Sam Hardacre.

  In the past h
e had fought against the woman, always pulling in the other direction like in a tug of war. What could she do, he wondered, if he stopped pulling and helped her? Beat him with a shoe? Or her straw bonnet, as if he were Sir Mortimer Grubbins, that other beastly pest?

  Apparently she chose to do neither. He had cunningly outplayed the woman. With kindness.

  * * *

  When Diana received a letter from Justina she took it quickly to her bedchamber, thrilled to have news from home. She missed her friends in Hawcombe Prior and was surprised her mother had not yet commanded her to come home.

  My Dear Diana,

  What has become of you, I wonder, in the world of Bath? I know I told you not to write and to save it all for when you returned, but I grow anxious to hear of your terrible adventures. Which had better be many and wicked to make up for these weeks we have suffered without you.

  Things here are much the same. Well, almost. The tavern has a new landlord. A most interesting fellow and a bachelor. I do not know that you will think much of him though.

  You will never guess what has become of Lucy Brydges! She has decided not to go to Basingstoke and juggle a parade of suitors after all, but to marry Sam Hardacre and stay here in the village. When the moment came to leave us all behind, she was not as brave as she thought, nor so ready for life without her friends.

  I write therefore to inform you of the wedding arrangements. Lucy has no time to put pen to paper because she has so many other plans to make, but she desires very much that you return to enjoy the celebrations.

  I am told that there will be cake, and more importantly, the Book Club Belles are all to have new bonnets.

  My Wainwright will send the carriage for you.

  I can think of little else to persuade you of how much you are needed here, except to say that whatever holds you in Bath cannot be as dear to you as those of us who wait for your return.

  * * *

  One week later, Diana stepped out of the Wainwrights’ carriage, walked through her mother’s gate, and stopped in shock when she found Nathaniel Sherringham in his shirtsleeves, applying a new coat of paint to the open front door.

  Her mother came out into the hall at the same moment, a cup of tea in her hand, offering it to him.

  “Diana!” she cried. “Good Lord!”

  He almost dropped his brush and spun around, flicking paint across his linen shirt. “Di…Miss Makepiece.”

  Her mother recovered first. Not waiting for Nathaniel to take the cup from her hand, she set it on the narrow hall table and stepped by him to take one handle of her daughter’s trunk. “Well, you might have written to let me know you were on your way, for pity’s sake!”

  “I wanted to surprise you, Mama.” She glanced sideways at Nathaniel as she followed her mother into the cool house, but he turned away and got on with his work.

  “You certainly did that. I thought Elizabeth would keep you there until September at least.”

  As they walked into the kitchen, Diana stopped her mother with one hand on her shoulder. “Are you pleased to have me back, Mama?”

  “Of course, Diana.”

  They set down the trunk and embraced. Diana breathed deeply of her mother’s scent and all that was familiar. “I missed you, Mama.”

  “Well, goodness, I should hope so. Now sit down and I’ll pour you some tea while you tell me all that happened.”

  “I think, Mama, you have a few things to tell me first.”

  Her mother’s eyes were wide and innocent as she reached for a clean cup and saucer. “I do?”

  Diana’s pulse was scattered. “Why is Captain Sherringham here?” she whispered.

  “Oh, it is nothing,” her mother replied nonchalantly. “He’s been doing a few odd jobs about the house. Making himself useful. Seems to think he can slide into my good graces.”

  “But what is he doing here in Hawcombe Prior?” She had thought him gone forever. Justina’s letter had not warned her about his return. That sly woman!

  “He has purchased the tavern, would you believe? Took it over from Bridges. I cannot think why a man like that would wish to settle here. I should have imagined that London or some other large, noisy place suited him better.”

  The tavern! Of course. That was why he had come back. He was the bachelor Justina thought she would not find interesting. Diana smothered a chuckle.

  Suddenly her mother took her hands and stepped back to inspect her properly. “You look different, Diana. Confident. Your eyes are shining as I have not seen them since you were a little girl.”

  She smiled. “I am different, Mama.”

  “And better, I hope?”

  “Oh yes, Mama. I feel like a new woman.”

  “Then it was worth it to lose you for a while.” Her mother kissed her gently on the cheek. “But I felt the loss of your company, my dear, very much.”

  “I thought you would have sent for me to come home by now.” She licked her lips and added cautiously, “Did Elizabeth not write to you?”

  “Yes, a very odd, disjointed rambling letter, of which I could make neither head nor tails since many lines were scribbled over. Her spelling has not improved, I see. Nor has her use of punctuation.” She sighed, reaching for the teapot to pour a cup for her daughter. “But then I had a letter from Mrs. Fanny Plumtre in the same day, and she was most eager for you to stay as long as you could. She said what a good friend you have been to her daughters. They sound rather wild, I must say.”

  So apparently her mother still did not know Nathaniel had been in Bath. Had Elizabeth thought better about telling her?

  Oh, it was good to be home, she thought, standing in the old kitchen. How quiet it was there, compared to Wollaford. Her life at home might be more predictable and less elegant, but she had missed it.

  She glanced back over her shoulder and down the narrow passage because she could hear Nathaniel whistling. It was…

  Their music.

  She hid her smile in the teacup and watched her mother puttering about the kitchen, only half listening to her stories of what had happened since Diana left. How odd that her mother would let Nathaniel into the house at all, let alone bring him tea. Perhaps she too had learned to change.

  * * *

  He was sitting with his father after dinner that evening when the bell rang. It woke them both from a drowsy game of backgammon.

  “Who could that be at this hour?” the major exclaimed. “Don’t show them in here, Nate, my boy, or I shall have to put my shoes back on.” His father liked to remove as many garments as he could while at ease in his own parlor, and he was always loath to put them back on.

  So Nathaniel went out into the hall and opened the front door.

  “I brought this month’s rent,” she said pertly, a little net purse dangling from her finger.

  “Diana? At this hour?”

  Not waiting to be welcomed in, she walked boldly into the house. He thought for a moment, knowing he ought to quarrel with her about the impropriety of this late visit, but then he closed the door and said in as formal a tone as he could manage, “Go through to my father’s study. End of the hall.”

  He knew his father would probably be asleep soon by the parlor fire, if he was not already. With his father asleep, he and Diana were, in effect, alone together in the house. Her mother could not know where she’d gone. She wore neither coat nor bonnet, brazenly flouting the rules. Must have been a spontaneous idea, he concluded. The woman was having a lot more of those these days, and he wasn’t sure whether he liked it.

  What would she do next?

  Following her into the small study, he said, “Miss Makepiece, could this not have waited until the morning?”

  “No. It’s overdue.”

  But when he reached for her purse, she put it behind her back and dodged aside with a low chuckle. Apparently the lady was in a p
layful mood. He propped his behind against the leather-topped desk and folded his arms. “Took you long enough to come home, Miss Makepiece,” he muttered. “I began to think you’d decided to stay and marry George.”

  Her eyebrows arched high. “George prefers Mrs. Sayles—your friend. Didn’t you know? They are engaged.”

  Nathaniel paused, surprised, then laughed as he realized he should have seen it coming. “That explains a curious discussion I had with Jonty.”

  Diana walked up to him and pushed her way between his thighs, sliding her arms around his neck. “You left Bath abruptly. Not a word to me.”

  “Once I knew Daisy would recover, there was nothing else I could do. I had outstayed my welcome at Wollaford, and you were needed there.”

  Her fingertips gently stroked the back of his neck, and he quickly felt the growing heaviness of want traveling the length of his spine and settling in his loins. Her soft lips were mere inches from his, and she tempted him by letting her tongue out to moisten them. “And you came here. Why?”

  Nathaniel took her hands to keep them out of trouble. “I wanted to be here, waiting for you this time. Since you complained that women are always left to wait for men, I decided to prove to you that I was capable of waiting. If you came back.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  His heart clamored to hear her say she loved him. It was a pathetic, desperate state to be in, but there was nothing he could do about it.

  Diana leaned back and he released her hands. “I saw the letter to my mother, by the way. The one that supposedly came from cousin Elizabeth,” she said.

  “Did you? That’s nice.”

  “You intercepted it somehow.”

  He sighed and shook his head. “Would I do a thing like that?”

  “Yes.”

  They stood looking at each other for a long while. He was not going to confess anything until she did. Not this time.

  Diana held the net purse out to him again. “I’ll be going then.”

  “I think you had better, Miss Makepiece. Wouldn’t want anyone to talk. You know how gossip spreads.”

  She sniffed, gave him an odd look, turned, and walked out, her head high, her proud nose in the air.