Текст книги "Accidentally, Love"

Автор книги: Kate Harper

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Chapter Three

December

Four months later…

‘It will be too bad if we cannot make it home by tomorrow,’ Isabella muttered, her face pressed against the chilly glass of the private parlor they had hired for the duration of their enforced stay in The Drunken Maiden, the inn the Hathaways had been staying in since the previous evening when bad weather had made breaking their journey imperative. ‘I have so many things to do.’

‘You might have to do them here,’ Harry pointed out from the table where he and Millie were playing Whist. She was beating him soundly but then, she always did. The girl was shockingly lucky at cards.

Isabella turned to stare at her husband, her frustration obvious. ‘Harry, we cannot stay here. Not at this time of the year. We have other guests coming and we are not there to greet them.’

‘If they are actually mad enough to brave this weather, we have an excellent staff who can take care of them,’ Harry said, determinedly cheerful. ‘And they will not have to wonder where we are. One look at the heavens should tell them all they need to know.’

‘Do you think that our people made it home safely?’ His wife asked anxiously. They had sent their servants on ahead to help prepare the house, just as they usually did after a prolonged sojourn in town. It was not the first time that Isabella had asked this but Harry was as patient as he had been the first time.

‘They left a full day ahead of us, my love. The roads did not present a problem until after that heavy snowfall yesterday morning. They will be safely at Little Paddocks by now.’

‘But Harry -’ Isabella began.

‘Harry is perfectly correct, my dear. I am sure our people are safe at home, although I daresay they will be wondering where we are. We really need to face the fact that we may be forced to stay here for several days,’ her mother said from the fireplace where she was embroidering a handkerchief. ‘Mr. Fumble informed me after luncheon that more snow is expected to fall before tonight.’

Isabella’s gave a heartfelt sigh. ‘But I want to be home.’

‘You sound like Millie when she is told she may not do something,’ Audrey observed from a chair opposite her mother. She, too, was embroidering although the light in the parlor was far from satisfactory. The landlord, Mr. Fumble, had given them two tallow candles to dispel the gloom. They smoked and did not smell particularly pleasant but at least the small circles of light they cast were, if not particularly illuminating, at least cheerful.

‘I do not sound like that,’ Millie objected, placing a queen down, thereby trouncing her brother-in-law yet again. ‘Besides, I quite like it here.’

‘You like it here?’ Isabella repeated incredulously. ‘Why, for goodness sake?’

‘Well, it’s exciting, isn’t it? Mr. and Mrs. Fumble are a very entertaining couple and she’s an excellent cook. I’ve never had fish pie before. Not with the head and tail sticking out like that.’

‘Nor have I,’ Isabella muttered, wincing at the memory of lunch. As her pregnancy had progressed, so had her inability to face certain foods.

‘Do you really think they’re married? I am not at all sure that Mrs. Fumble can lay claim to that name legally.’ Harry murmured.

‘Now Harry,’ his mother-in-law said warningly.

He grinned. ‘Sorry, dearest.’ He eyed Millie’s winning hand with resignation. ‘As for the unusual culinary fare; I doubt they’ve had much call to cater to the gentry. This place is probably not accustomed to passing trade of that caliber. This inn caters to local people.’

‘We were lucky we came across it when we did and even luckier Mr. Fumble was so accommodating,’ Lady Hathaway observed comfortably. ‘It would have been too easy to leave the road altogether, the way the snow was coming down. John said that he couldn’t see a thing. If we had not found this place we might well have ended up in a ditch.’

When an early darkness had fallen the afternoon before, Harry had instructed their coachman, John, to head for anything with a light. The glow from The Drunken Maiden had been a beacon in the swirling snow and they had pulled up before its unpretentious door with some relief.

‘I don’t understand it. It never snows this much at this time of year,’ Isabella wailed plaintively, sitting down on the window seat once again and eyeing the uncooperative weather beyond with baleful eyes.

‘Obviously, it does,’ Millie murmured, giving her brother-in-law an evil smile. ‘Do you know Harry; you owe me half a pound? Do you want to try and win it back?’

‘There isn’t a chance in Hades I’ll be able to win it back,’ he retorted. ‘So no, Miss Hathaway, I do not want to play again. I doubt I’d win so much as a round of slapjack with you. If a career as a debutante fails to entertain you, perhaps you could succeed as a card sharp.’

‘Don’t tell her that!’ Lady Hathaway and Isabella chorused in unison.

Millie looked thoughtful and Harry shook his head at her. ‘I was jesting!’

His last words were drowned out when the door crashed open and a large, ungainly youth entered the room, his arms full of firewood. Flakes of snow fell off his shoulders as he shook himself, rather like a dog might do, Audrey reflected as she hastily made way for the new arrival. Boddy was the landlord’s only employee; the maids who were usually employed unable to present themselves at work, thanks to the weather. Mr. Fumble had said that he hadn’t expected any trade, for no sensible soul would venture out in such a storm. Boddy was a simple fellow but seemed quite in awe of the company who had arrived and Audrey had learned quite quickly that talking to him only made the poor boy more tongue tied. And clumsy. It was quite likely he’d drop the logs when he saw the amount of people gathered in the front parlor and she was reluctant to have a toe squashed again. Happily he retained his grip on his burden, merely bobbing his head awkwardly at the sight of them. Even the sullen light of the candles could not disguise the dull flush of scarlet that darkened his skin. He was extremely shy and having so many pairs of eyes upon him was obviously hard to bear.

‘Er…’ he began then stopped, at a loss.

‘Good afternoon, Boddy,’ Lady Hathaway said soothingly. ‘We’ll just move so you can put those logs down, shall we? They do look heavy.’

‘Thank ‘e,’’ Boddy mumbled, shambling forward. Audrey twisted in her chair even further for fear that she would trip him up. He seemed a perfectly amiable young fellow but he was so in awe of the guests that were staying at The Drunken Maiden that very little by way of sensible conversation could be gotten out of him. ‘Er,’ was the best he could usually do, with the occasional ‘um’ thrown in.

He dropped the wood in the large tin box with such a clatter that she winced. Kicking the logs that were already in the fire with an enormous boot, he laid a few more on top then kicked the fire again, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. With another self-conscious nod to Lady Hathaway, he shambled back out of the room with surprising speed, considering his size and closed the door with a resounding slam behind him.

‘He’s not the sort to sneak up on a fellow, now is he?’ Harry observed ruefully, massaging an ear.

‘He means well,’ Mama observed.

‘And at least there is a decent fire to be had,’ Audrey sighed, looking at the flames with gratitude. It was not what one would call warm in the room but it was a great deal warmer than it was outside. The Drunken Maiden was quite a substantial building but Harry was right, it did not cater to the gentry and smoking chimneys might have been expected, but that was not the case. There were also adequate fires in each of the bedchambers in which they had found themselves, which was a blessing. That, along with the fact that there were no other guests, meant that their situation could have been far less comfortable that it was for there was plenty of room and they were not at all crowded. If they were forced to spend several days here, a family Christmas of sorts might be possible after all. Mr. Fumble had more or less turned his entire establishment over to the family when they had arrived on his doorstep the previous evening, more than happy to do so when Harry had handed over some coin, making hospitality well worth his while for there was little enough business to be done in such weather.

With only Mr. and Mrs. Fumble in residence – poor Boddy, it seemed, slept in the stables – their needs had been readily met. There had been a bed for their coachman, John, the horses were safely stabled and, if their unexpected arrival had thrown the household into a flutter of activity, there seemed to be plenty of food. They had thought to travel again in the morning but that had proved to be impossible for the storm continued on, making the roads, such as they were, all but impassable. They were travelling in a large town coach, roomy enough to carry them all back to the Carstairs’ estate but not designed for the snowdrifts that had piled across the road. It had been exceptional weather and they had been vastly relieved to have discovered beds for the night. Waking to the news that they would not be going any further that day had come as something of a blow, however.

Mama had been right to point out how fortunate they were, Audrey reflected. They had adequate shelter, decent food and they were mostly together – Marcus and Johanna would not be joining them until the New Year anyway, as they had returned to Yorkshire several weeks before to spend the season with Johanna’s grandmother, who had been unwell – so all in all things could be a great deal worse. Audrey didn’t particularly mind that they might not reach Little Paddocks by tomorrow. It was doubtful they would be able to attend the local church for the service anyway. Actually, it was only Isabella who was fretting about their enforced stay. At six months into her confinement, Audrey suspected that Isabella wished to be surrounded by the familiar comforts of home, especially as they had stayed in London far longer than they had intended.

Audrey sighed, reflecting back on the last few months in London. It had not been particularly restful but then, her sense of inner peace had undergone a rather drastic change in the weeks following that one eventful night in August.

Initially, they had intended to abandon the capital at the end of October, just as many others were, retreating back to their country estates for the pleasures of rural life. But one thing or another had kept them in town and they had found that they rather enjoyed London after the Season was done and so many people had retreated. With Marcus’ bride, Johanna, experiencing her first visit to the city, Lady Hathaway had decided it might be enjoyable to linger. There were still plenty of entertainments to be had, she reasoned, and things would not be nearly so rushed. New dresses were ordered and delivered in a timely fashion. One did not have to queue endlessly at the theatre for refreshments and they could actually enjoy some of the attractions of the metropolis, finally having room in their social calendar to do so. They did so, but it was not without its dramas, usually caused by the youngest Miss Hathaway.

They took Millie to some of the more absurd entertainments, such as Crowther’s Museum of the Strange where shrunken human heads (it was uncertain if they were real heads, but they certainly looked most unpleasant) were displayed in glass bottles along with what Mr. Crowther claimed was the most extensive collection of medieval instruments of torture to be found the world over. It was difficult to know if this was true, but there were certainly a lot of them, most of them very nasty looking. Naturally, Millie found all of the exhibits fascinating. Crowther’s Museum was not the only curious place they had gone for there had also been the Palace of Wonders (which had been far from wonderful), a visit to a circus and one to Bartholomew Fair where Millie liberated a dancing bear and caused a small riot. Luckily Marcus and Harry tidied up the resulting milieu and had paid off the excitable bear’s owner, much to Millie’s disgust. She had been very much on the side of the bear. There had also been trips to Vauxhall Gardens and some of the other charming pleasure gardens London had to offer, along with a great many more sedate museums and galleries.

It had not been until Millie had taken it into her head to go up in a hot air balloon – these awe inspiring creations being all the rage for a few weeks, floating up from Hyde Park to a crowd of fascinated onlookers – stowing away beneath some rugs at the bottom of the basket, or gondola, as it was apparently called by its enthusiastic owners, that Mama made a decision to quit London. The episode of the balloon could have ended a great deal more unpleasantly than it had. The gentlemen whose balloon it had been had proved to be remarkably understanding about the whole event, even commending Mama on producing such a spitfire.

‘Plenty of bottle in her, hmm Ma’am? Why, I had to hold onto her jacket for fear she’d tumble out,’ the young man had said, full of admiration. ‘She wanted to see everything. Got a marvelous head for heights, I must say.’

Mama had paled at this cheerful observation and Audrey had stepped in hastily, thanking the two grinning gentlemen while taking a firm grip on her sister’s arm. Millie, naturally, had been sorry that she had given her mother such a scare but had been thrilled by the entire experience and expressed her desire to repeat it whenever the opportunity came her way again.

The balloon episode proved to be the final straw for their exasperated mother. Lady Hathaway declared they’d had quite enough entertainment to last a millennium or so and more or less forbade Millie to leave the house again without close supervision. Indeed, all of the female Hathaways’ nerves had stood all the excitement they could bear and they packed up their things and made preparations to return to Little Paddocks. Isabella had been becoming fretful about returning home by then anyway, and their tentative plans to enjoy Christmas in London had been abandoned.

Travelling back to Little Paddocks so much later in the year should not have been a problem. Certainly none of them might have expected such a violent snowstorm in December but every once in awhile, these things happened, oversetting one’s plans and generally causing chaos.

For Isabella’s sake, Audrey hoped they might make it back to Little Paddocks, although she herself was not particularly fussed. Thinking back to Isabella’s increasingly fluctuating emotions, she glanced at her sister thoughtfully. Audrey could vaguely remember her own mother’s swelling form when she had been pregnant with Millie, but she had been far too young to pay much attention. Isabella was different, of course, and Audrey had observed her sister’s growing belly with interest. Her eldest sister was generally very even tempered but pregnancy had seen her display a variety of emotions that were quite unlike her. She could be as sunny as a June morning one minute, then weeping copious quantities the next. When Audrey had expressed her concern to Mama, she had comforted her with the knowledge that pregnancy could often throw even the most well balanced female into a welter of mixed emotions and that, after the birth, they generally returned to their previous disposition. Harry could usually jolly Isabella out of her vagaries, but it was clear that she did not like being trapped in a strange place when her home was probably no more than another few miles or so down the road. In fact, it was the knowledge that Little Paddocks was so near and yet so unreachable that was driving Isabella mad.

There came a knock at the door and it opened again to admit Fumble and his wife, carrying trays and smiling broadly.

‘Good afternoon to yer,’ Fumble said cheerfully. ‘We brought tea.’

Mrs. Fumble set an enormous tray on the table. It must have been very heavy, for it held a large teapot and a multitude of cups and sauces but Mrs. Fumble was a sturdy woman with arms like tree trunks and seemed to have no difficulty with her burden. She gave Millie a familiar grin.

‘I made seed biscuits, young miss,’ she said amiably. ‘Figured you’d be the sort who’d like ‘em.’

Millie gave the landlady an approving smile. She was approaching her sixteenth birthday and, as yet, had acquired none of the polish of a young lady who would be launched into Society in a year or so. She tended to befriend servants far more readily than she did her peers and they, in turn, were drawn to her free and easy ways and often went to great lengths to make her happy. Mrs. Fumble had certainly taken a shine to her.

‘They smell delicious, Mrs. F. You are an excellent cook.’

‘Give over then,’ the woman said, but she looked pleased nevertheless.

Audrey watched with some amusement as Millie immediately removed a biscuit off the plate and bit into it. Her mother might find her youngest child’s manners to be a source of endless frustration but there was something endearingly real about Millicent Hathaway, something that the entire family delighted in. She would never be likely to turn her nose up at food or nibble daintily at a sliver of watercress sandwich. Like everything else Millicent Hathaway thought worthwhile, she put her all into it with unstinting enthusiasm. It was difficult to enforce behaviors onto somebody who so obviously didn’t feel the need for them. Mama might sigh and wring her hands but Audrey suspected that she secretly enjoyed her youngest child’s unrepentant outlook on life just as much as the rest of them.

Millie is going to be virtually impossible to find a suitable husband for when the time comes. She will undoubtedly be even more difficult than I am. Poor Mama…

Although really, her mama did not seem to find the fact that Audrey was still not betrothed at the end of the Season to be an issue. She may have been a little surprised when her daughter had rejected Allingham’s offer, but she had not said a word of reproof or shown dismay at her daughter’s decision. Of course Isabella had been more outspoken and almost immediately after the downcast gentleman had left the house, she had tackled her sister on the subject.

‘But I thought you liked him a great deal? Did you not say, only a few days ago, that you found him to be unexceptional? I thought that you were open to entertaining an offer from him.’

‘I do find him unexceptional,’ Audrey admitted. ‘And admit that is what I was thinking... But I have thought the matter through a little more deeply and indeed, I feel that the two of us would not suit each other at all. We are too dissimilar in nature.’

‘In what way? Have you unearthed some peculiarities about the man? Does he secretly like to wear ladies’ dresses like Mr. Fontaine or to be spanked like poor old Horsley?’

Despite herself, Audrey had been shocked. The things her sister knew about people were extraordinary. ‘Good God, no! Nothing like that.’

‘Well, then…?’

‘I have just decided that I would not make him the best wife,’ Audrey had told her sister firmly. ‘And I believe I am not the only one who thinks so. I met his mother upon two occasions and I don’t believe she cared for me at all.’

‘What do you care what the mother thinks? Lady Allingham is a frightful prig. Believe me when I say that she is not a popular woman.’

‘Hardly a recommendation for a happy relationship in the future,’ Audrey had said ruefully. ‘Truly Belle, I had doubts and who wants to have doubts when one is embarking on such an adventure? There is no point in marrying a man one cannot commit to completely, now is there?’ For in her heart of hearts, she was still determined to pursue that one thing that she knew must be attainable; true love. And much as she liked Lord Allingham, she absolutely knew he was not going to be the great love of her life, earl or not.

The comment had made her sister give her a long, thoughtful look but mercifully, she had said no more.

Isabella’s bewilderment was understandable for, up until that night at Almack’s, Audrey had been well on the way to convincing herself that she might indeed like Lord Allingham well enough to marry him, Lady Allingham’s opinion notwithstanding. In fact, with a little more encouragement she knew now she would have begun to convince herself that he was her true love, which only went to show that one must never rush into any decision upon which one’s future happiness depended. It was just as well, she’d reflected when the whole thing was done, that she had met Mr. Kirkwood for he had made her see that she was in danger of straying from her goal. Audrey could deal with a disapproving mother-in-law if the right man presented himself; for the right man, she would brave almost anything. But meeting Allingham’s disreputable half-brother made her realize that she had not met the right man. If she had really cared for Allingham half as much as she had thought, there was no way in the world she would have allowed Mr. Kirkwood to take such liberties. Nor would she had felt so… so incandescent in the wretched man’s arms, for one could not truly be falling in love with one man only to shatter into a thousand overwrought pieces in the arms of another. She had never felt anything akin to the emotions that kiss had ignited within her. Kirkwood might be a seasoned man of the world and a little light lovemaking with young females was probably as common an occurrence for him as placing a wager on a horse or a sparring session at Belcher’s, but she had been a complete novice when it came to such stuff and that embrace had left her feeling as if she were on fire. Even now, she had only to think of it and she felt a flush of heat rush through her.

After she had left Almack’s so precipitously that night, she had retreated to her room immediately, wanting some privacy to think about the enormity of what had occurred. Mr. Kirkwood, Allingham’s bastard brother, had kissed her and she was desperate to try and understand how that had come about. He had thoroughly kissed her too, even going so far as to put his tongue into her mouth. Audrey might not have much experience with such things – well, actually she had none at all – but she had heard enough to know that a man sliding his tongue into a lady’s mouth was an excessively daring thing to do. She had secretly thought it must be an extremely unpleasant experience for a tongue was… well, a tongue, after all and not the kind of thing that would send one’s pulses racing. And yet Kirkwood’s deliberate invasion of her mouth had certainly done so. It had been distressingly enlightening on more levels than she had cared to contemplate.

Even now, four months later, her lingering flush of desire still mingled with a cringing kind of embarrassment when she remembered how she had eagerly responded to the feel of that strong, hard body against her own. Whatever initial shock she had experienced had worn off far too soon as far as Audrey was concerned. Indeed, it was her unrestrained reaction to his kiss that continued to trouble her the most, for she could not recall struggling at all, no matter how many times she reviewed the episode in her mind. She had encouraged him, opening her own mouth beneath the insistent pressure of his lips, putting her hands on his shoulders, pressing herself against him. Dear God, she had behaved like a complete wanton when she should have been fighting him. At the very least she should have slapped his face.

Why on earth had she not slapped his face?

Upon waking after that tumultuous evening, she found that she was no more certain of what she should be feeling than she had been the night before. Her future was no longer assured but she formulated a plan – a mad plan, in retrospect – the following day for she felt she must prove that her unfortunate encounter had been nothing more than an aberration. In retrospect, she knew that she was trying to justify her inexplicable behavior, for she had decided the morning after Kirkwood’s delicious assault upon her senses that she must be the kind of female that simply enjoyed being kissed. There was really no other explanation than that. She had not thought she was that kind of girl, but obviously she had been mistaken for nothing else made sense. She had not liked Mr. Kirkwood in the least and yet she had melted in his arms like hot wax. In truth, she knew quite a few girls who made no bones about how much they enjoyed being kissed and actively pursued gentlemen who might be expected to do so. Audrey had always thought them quite shockingly bold but it seemed likely she was one such female. She simply had not realized that was the case. With this in mind, surely Allingham would produce the same dizzying sensations when he kissed her?

It had suddenly become important to prove her theory and she set out to discover if this were true with a kind of desperate determination that, in hindsight, must have been the product of the shock she had sustained from Kirkwood’s marvelous assault.

She would somehow persuade Allingham to kiss her at Lady Jersey’s rout that very night. And so she had. With a single-minded determination, she had maneuvered Allingham into a position where kissing her would be inevitable. It had been more difficult than she had imagined for he was not at all forward, nothing like his older brother. But there had been a moon and there had been music and it had felt intoxicatingly intimate in the garden where she had managed to lead him without making her destination or her intentions too obvious. That aspect had been important for naturally she had to make it seem as if it was his idea (it was a known fact that no gentleman liked to be pushed into any situation they might prefer to orchestrate themselves) but she had managed the thing so well that he had succumbed to her manipulation without any hesitation. Why should he not? Allingham was a singularly honorable man.

This is going to be perfect, she had thought with grim determination as she’d looked up at him, expression one of melting surrender (or so she hoped). Allingham will sweep me into his arms and the world will tilt on its axis and I will know, once and for all, that I am the sort of girl who simply enjoys being kissed and that Allingham should be the one who is kissing me…

Regrettably, all had not gone according to plan and the anticipated kiss had been a monumental disappointment. For a start, his lips had been tentative and uncertain and the arm that had crept around her waist had felt far too apologetic. She had given a small murmur of encouragement, hoping for a little more enthusiasm and, after a few moments he had been bold enough to press her lips more firmly and hold her a little more tightly. Apparently he had seemed to think she was made of spun sugar that might break if held too tightly and after only a few moments he had released her with a hurried apology.

‘Miss Hathaway! I… forgive me, please. I was overcome by the night and the music and your beauty. Do not… please say I have not offended you too deeply.’

He hadn’t offended her at all. How could he when it had been entirely her idea? Why, she had practically offered her lips on an engraved invitation card but he had not thought for a moment that what had transpired had been her fault. It had been sweet. Lord Allingham was sweet. But he was also disappointing for there had been no fire, no spark, none of the wondrous rush of exquisite delight that Kirkwood’s demanding kiss had produced.

Audrey had assured his lordship that she was not in the least offended and they had returned to the crowds and the light, being sure to avoid the other couples who had also taken the opportunity to steal a few intimate embraces away from the watchful eyes of their chaperones. Allingham had been extremely careful about returning her to the bosom of her family and she had appreciated his thoughtfulness, for a girl’s reputation was a fragile thing and she had been a rash fool to put hers in peril for the second time in two days.

Under the circumstances it had hardly been surprising when he had called around to the house the next day. Having kissed her, his lordship would naturally reach the conclusion that a proposal should follow. In the absence of Marcus, who was the head of the Hathaway household now that her father had gone, Allingham had requested an interview with her mother and herself. Audrey had stood there, feeling utterly dreadful while Allingham had smiled at her, entirely confident that she would say yes to his offer of marriage. And, for a long moment she had hovered on the brink of doing exactly that. It would be so easy to say yes. She had the opportunity to be a countess, the wife of one of the richest men in the country. It would be an excellent match, a glorious match and she would be the envy of every girl in London. No sane or sensible female would have said no to such a stellar future.

Saying no had been difficult but she had forced the words out, knowing that she could not take her place beside Allingham for two very good reasons.

The first was that there was the possibility that his brother would step back into her life on a regular basis, throwing her into confusion and forcing her to recall their extremely inappropriate encounter. Her brief meeting with Kirkwood must necessarily taint any future dealings between them and, while it certainly sounded as if the brothers did not socialize very much, there would surely be occasions when she would run into the older man. It was, she knew, quite impossible to accept Allingham’s offer when she still harbored such vivid memories of another man’s caress.

And the second was that the earl was simply not the man she had been looking for. Accepting his lordship’s offer could only bring unhappiness to both of them and she did not, for all the world, wish Lord Allingham unhappiness.

Unsurprisingly, her rejection had caused a scandal, for it seemed that in very short order most of London knew that Miss Hathaway had declined to be the Countess of Allingham. Amid the talk, her mother had calmly taken Audrey and Millie off to Bath for several weeks to enjoy a change of scenery and naturally, the talk had died down, although it had not disappeared completely. Audrey hated being an on dit, the subject of social gossip. Worse than that, however, was the guilt that she felt if she happened upon Allingham, who clearly felt mortified when they met. It was a relief when he removed himself to his country estate before the Season was over, but his retreat caused another wave of unwelcome talk.