How To Rescue A Rake (Book Club Belles Society 3) Page 8

  Not waiting for any response from her daughter, she walked away to converse with Mrs. Kenton who, with her usual need to be the center of Hawcombe Prior society, had arrived early for the party. Diana’s mother had a curious relationship with the parson’s wife. She did not like the lady much—thought her brash and vulgar—but although she would never admit it, she did like the endless seeds of gossip she could “inadvertently” collect by brushing against the woman occasionally.

  All the principals of the village were there, including the Porters from the shop, and Dr. and Mrs. Penny. Only the Bridges were absent, still in mourning. Diana was surprised to see so many braving the rain that evening, particularly since news must have circulated by now of Nathaniel’s return. He had never been very popular among the mothers of the village. She would have expected many of the more haughty residents to stay away rather than mingle with the notorious rogue.

  Luke Wainwright’s mutt ambled over to greet Diana and she stooped, giving the creature a quick scratch behind the ears, but even he soon left her standing alone as if her company was too dull to be tolerated for long, her attention inadequate. She looked around the room, but everyone seemed busy with their conversations and no one encouraged her with eye contact and a smile. It was the worst thing in the world to walk up to folk already involved in a discussion and try to foist oneself upon them.

  If only Catherine Penny were there, Diana thought sadly. She was always at ease with Cathy because they were two quiet girls together. But one never knew what Rebecca and Justina might say or do next, or what one might hear by joining one of their conversations already in progress. Diana was not much fonder of surprises than her mama was.

  She had begun to feel awkward and superfluous when, thankfully, she was saved by Sarah Wainwright, who wanted her opinion on a design for a new gown.

  As they pored over sketches at the table, it was not long before the conversation turned to the unofficial guest of honor.

  “I am to call him Sherry, he says,” Sarah told Diana as they stood by a small table at the window. “He has come home to find a wife, you know.”

  Diana swallowed, catching a breath. “Oh.” She checked in her peripheral vision that everyone else was engaged in their own conversations. Her mother was completely attentive at that moment, listening to Mrs. Kenton. The two women liked to complain together almost as much as they liked to complain about each other.

  “We’re going to find him one. Perhaps you can help.”

  Diana focused on Sarah’s drawings. “One what? For whom?”

  “A wife. For Sherry! My stepmama says he has always danced away from matrimony and has feared binding himself to one woman.” Sarah lowered her voice even further, making Diana lean in to hear. “Apparently he has had a few near misses in life but sobered up the next day to hurriedly escape the consequences.” Sarah studied her face. “I hope you are not sick because I dragged you out to the Manderson assembly dance on Tuesday!”

  “Goodness no,” Diana managed tightly. “I am much improved.”

  “But your eyes are watery and your nose is very pink. In fact, you look positively wretched.”

  “It is merely the end of this cold. I am much better than I was.” Even as she said it she felt a sneeze coming on, but managed to subdue it to a very small squeak into her handkerchief.

  “Poor Diana.” Sarah laid a commiserating hand on her arm. “You are under the weather. Your hair has lost all its curl.”

  She smiled as widely as she could, her face hurting from the strain. “I have given that up, Sarah.”

  “Really?”

  “Time for a change, I thought. I am no longer a young girl. Next step will be donning the lace cap of an old maid, as Mrs. Kenton has advised.”

  Sarah looked confused for a moment but then nodded, apparently agreeing this would be a sensible idea. In her tender young eyes, twenty-seven was indeed ancient and she didn’t yet understand Diana’s dry humor. Not that Diana was even sure she’d meant the comment as a jest.

  “I did so admire that little embroidered book cover you made Jussy for her birthday. I wondered if you would show me how to make one,” Sarah was saying. “My stitches are not nearly as neat as yours, though. My lack of skill will, sadly, dictate a simpler pattern.”

  Knowing she would likely end up sewing the book cover herself, Diana agreed that she would “help” Sarah. What else did she have to do?

  Apparently he has had a few near misses in life but sobered up the next day to hurriedly escape the consequences.

  No doubt she, Diana, was one of his “near misses.” That was why he had left the village immediately without another word to her after his failed proposal.

  A moment later, young Sarah’s mind had already moved on to other subjects. “Do say you will play for us tonight, Diana! No one plays so well as you, and I want to dance with Sherry. He promised he would dance.”

  “Of course I will play for you.” Even with a hot, foggy head and a scratchy throat, what else could she say when asked so sweetly? Better she make herself useful rather than stand about getting in the way and being “obvious.”

  * * *

  Despite everything he had imagined saying to Mrs. Rosalind Makepiece when he saw her again, Nathaniel no longer felt the need to fire his arrows. In fact he did not wish to speak to her at all. The anger was still there, but tamed for now, caged. He blamed this calmer temperament on his new clothes. One had to be on one’s best behavior in such a fine suit of clothes. His tailor may not be Schweitzer and Davidson, but he was almost as costly. It was rather like donning a suit of armor, he mused.

  In the past, except for the Book Club Belles, who were always more daring than they should be, the ladies of Hawcombe Prior had given Nathaniel a wide berth. But tonight, when he presented a tidier figure in expensive garments, they gathered about him eagerly. It also helped, he suspected, that they knew nothing about his business, and he avoided the subject. An air of mystery drew the gossips in like bees to clover. That amused him, and he may as well get some entertainment from the evening.

  He certainly would not reveal to any of these women how he’d come by his wealth. Not yet, in any case. Let them wonder for a while. A few of them—Mrs. Makepiece, for instance—would never approve. It would give her a fresh reason to look down on him. Not that she needed any more.

  But he was pleased to see a few of the residents of Hawcombe Prior again. Dr. Penny had been a good friend, inviting Nathaniel into his study to share his troubles and a glass of wine on several occasions. The doctor was an excellent listener and he worked his remedies in such a quiet, unassuming way that one seldom realized how clever he was.

  That evening, the doctor’s bright eyes twinkled merrily as he inspected Nathaniel’s new attire. “You have come to set the young ladies’ hearts aflutter again, Sherry,” he exclaimed with a low chuckle. “I can see I had better stock up on smelling salts and indigestion pills.”

  “I am on my way to Bath, sir, and will not stay here long.”

  “To Bath?” The doctor looked distressed. “I was there once. Didn’t take to it.”

  “I am escorting a lady there to visit her relatives. Not that sort of a lady. I barely remember how I became commissioned with the task of escorting her there, but it seemed no one else was willing to travel with her and I have since discovered why.” He grimaced. “Still, I promised I would deliver her safely. And then I shall be free to enjoy the sights and perhaps even find a bride while I am there. I hear there are plenty of eligible wenches on parade in Bath.”

  The doctor snorted. “Oh yes, there are plenty on parade indeed. The streets are full of ’em.” He shuddered. “Like cowpats in a field.”

  Nathaniel laughed. “I shall have to pick my way through them with care.”

  “I must say it is a pity you cannot stay longer, Sherry. This place gets very dull without a resident rake about
to thrill the girls into fainting fits and nervous rashes, their mamas into hysteria, and their fathers into apoplexy.”

  Nathaniel replied that he would try his best to liven things up for the doctor while he was there.

  When Sarah Wainwright begged for dancing and space was cleared in the room, she quickly requisitioned Nathaniel as her partner. He had not expected to dance that evening, but she was insistent and it gave him a reprieve from painfully polite conversation at least. Although there were only four couples willing to dance, that was adequate for the size of the room and just enough for a cotillion.

  As he and Sarah joined hands, he glanced over at the pianoforte where Diana played, her skilled fingers flying over the keys, her eyes upon the music.

  “You remember Diana, surely,” said his partner, following the path of his gaze.

  “Yes.” He was puzzled to see her there without her husband. Yet again. “She married William Shaw, I hear.” There, the words were out.

  “Married? Oh, no. Diana had a terrible disappointment. Did you not hear of it? Her fiancé married another woman. It was very tragic. Now she is left brokenhearted and resigned to the future of an old maid.”

  His pulse slowed, almost came to a dead stop. He looked over at Diana again. Her eyes were fixed upon the music, although he doubted that she needed to follow the notes. This was a tune she must have played many times.

  “But I was told…”

  Nathaniel had to wait until he was reunited with his partner in the dance before he could learn any more.

  “Then who is the Book Club Belle who moved away and whose husband seldom brings her to visit?”

  “That would be Catherine Penny—now Mrs. Forester! She is very much missed since she moved away, although I did not have the chance to know her well before she married.”

  Catherine Penny, of course. What a fool he had been to forget Cathy’s marriage! She was always so quiet and well behaved that he had often overlooked her, especially in the company of her noisier sister, Justina. Catherine Penny—that dear, sweet, darling girl. He suddenly thought of her with far more fondness than ever before.

  “Diana always plays for us,” Sarah continued. “I go to her for lessons twice a week, but I’m afraid I’m still not very good. She is much more accomplished at the pianoforte than anyone else and does not mind sitting at the instrument all evening.”

  “She does not care to dance?”

  “Never. She prefers to play the music. Diana has given up all activities of the young.”

  He remembered again the first time he took Diana’s white-gloved hand, when she said she only danced with him to please his sister. It must have been almost ten years ago or thereabouts, the year his father first moved to Hawcombe Prior. The first time he’d laid eyes on her and thought about how there was a light within the girl. It shone through her skin, making her look almost angelic.

  But the light was gone now. She stared at the music before her, and the eyebrows that had once captured his attention were drawn fiercely together as if she might need spectacles. He knew how much Diana loved music—had heard her many times, humming quietly to herself and tapping her toes, when she thought she was alone and would neither be heard nor observed. Tonight, however, there was no sign of pleasure on her face as she played for the dancers.

  “I would not have known her,” he said to himself as much as anyone. “She is so changed.”

  Suddenly Diana looked up and her gaze collided with his. Had she heard his comment above the music? There was a spark between them, as if two swords—his and hers—clashed in the night, and then her gaze returned to the music book open before her. She played on without missing a note.

  The dancing continued for some time and, as Sarah had assured him she would, Diana stayed at her post.

  While his feet followed the steps—occasionally moving in the wrong direction and causing Sarah equal shares of frustration and amusement—Nathaniel struggled to get his thoughts in order. All his preparations of self-defense had been made in the expectation of Diana’s marriage. Knowing that she remained unwed broke the wall he’d carefully built and sent questions tumbling through his mind. But he kept quiet.

  “Lucy Bridges will be furious to have missed this party, especially when she learns there was dancing,” Sarah exclaimed. “Her father hardly lets her out of the house. He says it is improper while she’s in mourning for her grandmama.”

  “I am sorry to hear that.”

  “She is only allowed out for book society meetings. Being shut in has made her quite short-tempered. Just like our dear old boar Sir Morty, who doesn’t care much for fences either. I pointed out the resemblance to her recently, and she went into quite a rage.”

  He smiled. “We’ll have to think of some way to cheer her spirits. I remember Miss Lucy Bridges as a lively and amusing young lady.”

  Sarah looked at him with wide, thoughtful eyes. “Yes, I do not think you will find her so much changed.”

  While the dancers rested, he watched Diana stand and move over to the sideboard for some wine. No one had offered to bring her any, despite the fact that she’d sat there playing for them half the evening. Looking around the room, he realized all the guests were too preoccupied with themselves and their conversations. Diana was very much alone as she stood with her head bowed, pouring the wine.

  She had not married. He didn’t know what to make of it. Her mama had always been so set on William Shaw that it must have been a shock to both women when he married elsewhere.

  How small Diana seemed now. Had she lost inches in all directions? There was a time when his gaze would immediately go to her when he entered a room. Now he was not sure he would have noticed her at all, if not for their history.

  While Nathaniel observed her slyly, Diana covered a yawn with her fingers and leaned her hip against the sideboard. Then she gave a tiny, hesitant sneeze.

  Rebecca suddenly dropped to the sofa beside him. “You have certainly caused a stir with your refusal to tell anyone what you’ve been up to these past three years. I suppose you’re enjoying yourself.”

  “Very much.”

  “Well, I shall ask you nothing more about it. I suspect it might be something I wouldn’t want to know, in any case.”

  “Quite so, Sister.”

  She gave an exasperated gasp. “Since when have you become circumspect, Nate? There was a time when you kept no secrets and your life was an open book. Every sinful chapter was exposed without hesitancy. And if you tap one finger to the side of your nose again in that despicably annoying fashion, I shall be tempted to take those fancy new boots of yours and hold them to the fire.”

  “I warned you, Sister. I’m a changed man. Older and wiser.”

  “I hope that is the case, Nate,” she said, softening her tone. “I know I had never seen you in such low spirits as when you left here the last time.”

  “A long time ago.” He rubbed his thigh with one hand. “And I soon shook that depression off. Nothing ever troubles me for long.” After a pause, he added casually, “I hear your friend Diana’s engagement was called off.”

  “It was. Some months after you left.”

  “And you did not think it necessary for me to know when I returned?”

  “Why should I?”

  He glared at his sister.

  “You didn’t ask, Nate. I did not think it wise to raise the subject until you did. Considering…”

  Nathaniel waited and when nothing more was forthcoming, he snapped, “It means naught to me. I merely asked to be polite.” He huffed, leaning back in the chair, resting one ankle across his knee, his pose relaxed. “I would not want to make a faux pas. That is all.”

  “Of course.”

  “If I should mention anything to Miss Makepiece that causes her distress—”

  “It might be best if you do not talk to her of anything
but the weather and her health, don’t you think? You managed to cause her enough distress in the past.”

  He took further umbrage at that. “What did I ever do to cause her any suffering?”

  “Oh, you know very well.”

  “Indeed I do not! You had better tell me, for I wouldn’t want to be accused of doing it again.”

  His sister gave an extravagant sigh. “Perhaps flirting is so deeply ingrained in your behavior that you don’t even know when you’re doing it.”

  Nathaniel looked at her, puzzled.

  “Any pretty woman who passes your line of sight becomes a target for your charm, brother dear. It is a habit that would keep any sensible woman from letting you into her heart. But it might be that one very dear, extremely sensible, reserved young woman can’t help feeling fondness for you. And that can only end in tragedy because she feels everything deeply and dares not show it, while you take nothing seriously, and as you just said, nothing troubles you for long.”

  He frowned. “Then this…woman, whoever she is, ought to speak up. How am I supposed to read her mind?”

  “Perhaps such a woman suffers from shyness. Not everyone is like you, Nate, or has your confidence.”

  “Shyness?” he scoffed. “That is simply vanity in disguise. A bashful person assumes everyone is looking at them and waiting for pearls of wisdom to fall from their lips. I have no time for shyness.”

  Rebecca shook her head. “Vanity takes many forms, and thinking you know everything is one of them. So is never bothering to put yourself in someone else’s position to view life through their eyes. Demanding the attention of every woman in the room just because you can is another.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.”

  “Of course not.” She patted his knee. “You’re a man. The male brain’s capacity for absorbing new information is limited.”

  Annoyed, he grumbled, “Am I not supposed to be polite and gracious to ladies? If I stood in a corner and refused to converse with anyone, I suppose that would make me a villain too. Claiming dainty shyness would not save me from scorn.”