Lessons From a Scarlet Lady (10 page)

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Authors: Emma Wildes

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BOOK: Lessons From a Scarlet Lady
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“Is there no one?” Brianna looked sympathetic. “I understand your father’s well-known exactitude over what he deems to be suitable in a potential son-in-law is daunting to some of the men of our acquaintance, but you have had over a dozen offers for your hand, Beck. Hasn’t anyone caught your fancy? Not a single handsome young gentleman who has inspired a romantic flutter of the heart?”
Robert’s image unfortunately sprang to mind. The way the candlelight glinted off his chestnut hair, the elegant line of his jaw, the roguish curve of his mouth as he smiled, the graceful athletic ease as he waltzed . . .
Always with someone else, of course.
There was a disadvantage to having friends who understood your moods. Rebecca attempted nonchalance. “No.”
Brianna’s eyes narrowed. “Nonsense. You’re blushing.”
Well, that was inconvenient. “No, I’m not.”
“The red spots on your cheeks support my accusation. Please, don’t leave me dangling in suspense. You are never, well,
rattled
like this.”
Rebecca longed to tell
someone
about her penchant for Robert Northfield, but Brianna was probably the wrong person. Rebecca trusted her implicitly, but it wasn’t a matter of trust. Brianna was also Robert’s sister-in-law. Besides, Rebecca wasn’t at all sure Brianna wouldn’t be as horrified as her father might be at the discovery of Rebecca’s unreasonable passion for a known libertine.
The temptation to reveal everything but his name was there, however. She’d been keeping it a secret for well over a year. The other night in the garden hadn’t helped to cure her one bit. Robert had been gallant to help her, and so close she could still feel the muscled strength of his body, and their mouths hadn’t exactly touched, but . . .
Rebecca cleared her throat and gazed over at one of the shrouded windows. “I’m in love. Or at least I assume so. It must be, for all I do is think of him.”
“You are?”
Rebecca nodded.
“How marvelous, Beck! Who is he?”
Rebecca shifted her gaze back to her friend. “It isn’t marvelous at all, I’m afraid. Utter misery is more like it. And I am not going to tell you his name, so please do not press me.”
The animation on Brianna’s delicate features faded, replaced by dismay. “Misery? Why?”
No longer able to sit still, Rebecca got up and walked a few paces toward the window. She sighed and turned back around. “For about one hundred reasons, but the short of it is—it isn’t possible. If it
was
possible, it still wouldn’t matter because he doesn’t share my interest in the least. I think he would be astounded to hear of my infatuation, and worse, even amused.”
For a moment there was silence and then Brianna asked hesitantly, “Why isn’t it possible? I don’t understand.”
This was where Rebecca knew she could get into muddy waters if she said too much. Not that there weren’t a plethora of rakish gentlemen in English society—touting his reputation as the reason wouldn’t narrow the field too much. Robert was more notorious than most, but not unique. She said quietly, “My father wouldn’t approve. I am not sure why, but trust me, he would never agree to a courtship, even if our feelings for each other were mutual.”
“Why not? Is he a servant?”
“No. His family is a good one.”
In fact, you are part of it.
“Married?”
Thank God Rebecca could deny that one with honesty. “No, of course not. I would never look at another woman’s husband.”
Brianna’s expression held relief. “I know you wouldn’t, but I wondered if maybe there was someone from last season who might have married someone else.”
“That’s not the case.” Rebecca whirled and went to the window to pull the drapery back. Late morning sunshine spilled in. “If it was, I would be hurt, I imagine, but then I would forget him. No, he isn’t married. I’d wager the word isn’t in his vocabulary. The trouble is, even if it was, even if he did realize I am alive and walk on the same planet, my father would be adamantly against any hint of an association, so it’s all moot.”
Getting gracefully to her feet, Brianna came across the room and hugged her tightly. “No, it isn’t. Not when you look so miserable. You do realize this explains a lot of things, don’t you? Bella and I have wondered all along why you seem melancholy sometimes and quite honestly, when you turned down the Marquess of Highton last year, we were both astonished. He was so smitten, not to mention rich, handsome, and most important,
nice
. I thought you liked him. Moreover, I know your parents were very much in favor of a match.”
Richard was a nice man. And Rebecca had liked him. Still did. Too much to marry him while she was sitting around dreaming of someone else. “It sounds so stupid,” Rebecca said, her voice cracking just a fraction, “but Lord Highton just wasn’t
him
. So I turned down a perfectly decent proposal, even while knowing I haven’t a chance of getting what I want. I believe that officially makes me a fool.”
Brianna let her go and said stoutly, “You are not a fool. Not in the least.”
“I must be, to harbor such an infatuation. The very first time I saw him . . .” Rebecca trailed off, remembering the first time she’d seen Robert Northfield. She and Brianna had been together as Robert and his older brother had entered the ballroom, both strikingly handsome. Brianna had taken one look at the Duke of Rolthven and no suitor after that moment had a chance.
That had worked out well, for it turned out Colton returned the interest. Unfortunately, Rebecca had been in the same predicament with his wildly attractive but not so reputable brother, and Robert hadn’t returned anything.
Not a look. Not a glance. Not a sweet word. They hadn’t even been introduced until weeks later, and then only because Rebecca had been with Brianna, not at his request.
It stung. Here she was pining away for a man who even at this moment was probably in some female’s bed somewhere. No doubt the woman was gorgeous and sophisticated and . . .
Best not to think about it.
Her head tilted to the side as if she was pondering something, a thoughtful look crossed Brianna’s face. “Love at first sight is not just a romantic ideal. It happened to me with Colton, so no one can tell me it isn’t possible. And while my husband is imperfect, I am working on changing his attitudes. I wonder if the book could help you too.”
Rebecca couldn’t help but let out a choked laugh. “What? Are you talking about Lady Rothburg’s scandalous writings? You must be joking.”
“Indeed I’m not.” Brianna turned and went back to her chair in a flurry of blue silk. She folded her hands in her lap. “Contrary to all belief, the volume isn’t entirely about sexual matters. Lady R gives a lot of insight into the male mind, and at least one chapter is devoted to how to capture the attention of the man you desire. As mistress to so many, she seems to have gained some very good experience with the opposite sex.”
“You must not have been listening to me.”
Brianna waved a hand in an airy gesture of dismissal. “There is nothing wrong with my hearing. Your father wouldn’t approve and the man in question isn’t interested in marriage, right? Neither are insurmountable obstacles.”
Rebecca leaned a shoulder on the window frame and stared at her friend. “That is like saying the Alps are mere lumps of rock.” She wasn’t sure which hurdle would be more formidable.
“Oh please. You’re beautiful, Beck, and wonderful in every other way, too. Any man would be interested. As for your father, he loves you, and I’d wager if your happiness is at stake and this young man is from a decent family, even as opposed you think he would be, your father would come around.”
To say she had doubts over that was such an understatement Rebecca didn’t bother to voice them. “The man we’re discussing has clearly no interest in courting anyone, Bri.”
“Maybe you could change his mind. If this mystery man asked you to marry him, what would you say?”
The question brought forth every fantasy she’d ever had of Robert Northfield on bended knee, clasping her hand and declaring his undying love. But she’d always known those romantic images were nothing more than unrealistic illusions. Rebecca shook her head. “He
wouldn’t
ask.”
“But if he did?”
“Bri,” she said in exasperation.
“I’ll loan you the book at any time, if you want it. I am almost done with it.”
“I couldn’t.” Rebecca said it on a gasp. It was one thing for Brianna to read it—at least she was a married woman.
But the scandalous book did sound intriguing, Rebecca had to admit. Not that she believed it could work a miracle like causing a change of heart in a rake of Robert’s stature, but she couldn’t deny her curiosity over the forbidden revelations Lady Rothburg had to offer.
“It’s very enlightening.” Brianna looked mischievous but sincere. “Why does intimacy have to be such a secret, anyway? Men know everything and we know nothing. It isn’t fair to keep young women so in the dark over a natural part of life.”
Well, that was true enough. Rebecca muttered, “Who said life was fair?”
“The book aside, I hope you’ll attend.”
Attend
. The party. The house party where Robert would no doubt be in attendance, also.
Rebecca felt the traitorous flutter of her pulse, though it was irrational to want to torture herself by going. “My parents would have to agree. I am not sure they will. You are a married lady and a duchess, but you are still younger than I am by a few months. So is Arabella. They might not consider you reasonable chaperones.”
“Colton’s grandmother will be there. Can you think of anyone more respectable than the Dowager Duchess of Rolthven? Surely she is suitable enough, and besides, I want you to play some of your pieces.”
A chance to play her music for an audience? Rebecca’s throat tightened. “You know I can’t. My mother would have the vapors if word got out.”
Brianna lifted her brows. “I didn’t say you had to claim the music as your own. You are a talented pianist. Just play for us. When the audience adores it—as I know they will—and asks the name of the composer, make something up. It will be a chance for you to display your genius without the censure. And you can hear the praise firsthand, as it should be. We’ll need some elegant entertainment.”
Now she was lost. Robert, and her other passion, her music? There was no way she could resist. “I’d love to come.” And while she was being foolish enough to put herself right in the path of possible heartbreak, she might as well extend the madness. “And I’ll consider your offer of the book.”
Chapter Five
Men and women are not natural companions other than in a physical sense. We do not care for the same entertainments as a rule, nor do we find the same things humorous or interesting, and our everyday lives hold a disparity that makes it sometimes difficult to understand each other. Few men contemplate their wardrobes except with the most casual of attention, and few women wish to discuss horses and hounds. Yet these very differences can be to your advantage. Praise and reward every concession he gives you with his time and purse and watch his generosity grow.
From the chapter titled: “Turning Reluctance to Eagerness”
 
T
he envelope in question was included in a pile of correspondence and had no seal or indication of the sender. Colton’s secretary, a thin young man with unprepossessing features and a quiet demeanor, looked puzzled as he handed it over. Mills cleared his throat. “I . . . er . . . believe it is from Her Grace.”
Colton took the proffered piece of vellum. “From my wife?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why the devil would she write me a note?” His question was ridiculous. How would his secretary know what Brianna was thinking? Colton certainly didn’t understand her most of the time.
“It appears to be an invitation, Your Grace,” Mills said helpfully.
“I see that.” Colton scanned the script for a second time. “Rather an interesting thing, to be invited to one’s own home. It is even more interesting that the Duchess has failed to mention to me her plans. Why on earth is she planning a house party?”
“A surprise, sir?” Mills straightened a stack of papers with his usual efficiency, looking more diffident than ever.
Colton glanced at him and said dryly, “I agree. It’s a surprise, but that doesn’t help me understand the failure to say one word to me about it.”
“Your birthday, Your Grace.”
“My birthday?”
“On the fifth. You’ll be twenty-nine.”
“I do know my own age,” he said gruffly, feeling a little foolish. Now that he thought about it, he supposed it was next week. It certainly hadn’t crossed his mind his lovely young wife would do something like plan a party to celebrate it. He couldn’t decide whether to be touched or slightly irritated. Both, he supposed. While he appreciated the thoughtful gesture, he was also far too busy to drop everything and go lounge in the countryside with a houseful of guests for five days.

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