Sinfully Ever After (Book Club Belles Society) (11 page)

He knew that he had to say something when the parson’s wife began telling a story of what she’d seen through the Sherringhams’ kitchen window. While his brother watched him with a peregrine’s steely eye, Luke had to make a hasty decision. His behavior was once again in danger of bringing scandal to the family, just when he wanted to make recompense. So he acted on the spur of the moment and told them all that he was going to marry Gingersnap. He’d sort out the details later. Of course.

The rich luster of her hazel eyes drew him in, and then he was spinning around, trying to catch the little gold specks of dust that lived there.

“For a military man, you crumpled remarkably quickly under Mrs. Kenton’s barrage of cannon fire,” she muttered. “No one takes that windbag seriously.” Her expression was bold and determined again, just as it was when she confronted him in a tavern five years ago. “Besides, you’re much too old for me,” she added firmly. “You’re nearing forty, for pity’s sake. At that age, you are horribly set in your ways and have no business considering marriage for the first time. A bachelor who has avoided it this long is not fit for that sort of companionship and would be better off with a nursemaid. No offense meant.”

“Splendid. I’ll try not to take any.” Luke scowled. “You’re much too young for me anyway. And damned noisy. Not to mention quarrelsome and demanding.”

Her eyes flared again. “Pardon me for having an opinion.”

“You’re a woman.” He swung his cane and laughed. “You don’t need to clutter up your little head with an opinion. That’s why we men are here, to make the important decisions. You stick to bonnets and…and…
boot
laces
.”

She glared, her eyes simmering, the gold dust caught in a desert windstorm. “You’re a villain who is not to be trusted. You admitted it freely.”

He leaned down to her. “And you’re likely to shoot at me one day.”

“No doubt you’d give me plenty of reason to do so.”

“Ha! You strike me as the sort who wouldn’t require much provocation.”

“So, as you see,” she snapped, “marriage is out of the question between us. Utterly unnecessary and would doubtless end in tragedy for anyone within five miles.”

She thought she had it all sewn up, but he wouldn’t argue with her any further. As he’d warned her once before, he didn’t discuss business with a bit of petticoat. “Just don’t think you’ll get another kiss like that from me until our wedding night,” he muttered.

That silenced the ungrateful wench, mid-stitch. With that, he turned sharply and limped away from her. Perhaps he limped a little worse than normal. Wouldn’t hurt to play on her sympathy, would it?

Becky would have gone home at once, but her father was enjoying himself too much to leave. Again she reminded herself not to fret. No one could force her up the aisle. No one could kidnap her and make her marry the colonel. These were not the dark ages and she was not living in a gothic novel.

She glanced over at Diana Makepiece and thought of what that young lady would do in these circumstances. Diana’s feathers were never ruffled, and no matter what happened, she always retained her dignity.

Becky, therefore, would do the same as she set about refuting his horrendous lie.

One by one, the party guests approached to give their opinion on the supposed engagement. Her father, having conversed briefly with the colonel, told her that he thought it was a “very good jape.” He already liked Lucky Luke, of course, and thought nothing of this unseemly haste.

“Yes, indeed, Papa, it is a merry jape of the colonel’s, but that is all it is. I am not going to marry him.”

Still he laughed. “The fellow apologized for not seeking my permission, m’dear, but goodness, I am only happy to finally have you off my hands, as I told him.”

“Papa, there is no engagement.”

“But you invited this one to dinner. You did not chase him off with a blunderbuss like the last poor fellow. Surely that is a good sign, m’dear.”

“Papa, that was a bow and arrow.” She added hastily, “And it was an accident.”

The smile did not leave his face or even waver. “We shall have a rum cake and a large party.”

Any
excuse
for
a
party
, she thought grimly. “But you need me. How could I marry anyone and leave you?”

“Good heavens, you must not think of staying just for me. You must go and look after the colonel now, as you have looked after me all these years. I cannot afford to keep you fed and clothed forever, you know.” He patted her arm and grinned gleefully. “He seems to like you, and it would be selfish of me to keep you all to myself much longer. You’re almost an old maid. I have told him now that he may have you, and I cannot go back on my word. He didn’t even ask for a dowry, m’dear. How can I pass up such a bargain?”

She was still soothing her wounds from that when Mrs. Penny, Justina’s mother, rushed across the room and exclaimed merrily, “My dear Rebecca, so you have finally caught yourself a man! How clever of you to surprise us all. You’ve always been rather too strong and opinionated, but I knew there must be a man somewhere for you. One who would not mind your brusque, forward ways. What a relief it must be for you. I daresay you were anxious not to be left behind as the friends around you are all snapped up.”

“Not at all, Mrs. Penny. I am resolved to live a happy, untroubled life as an old maid. And he’s not going to stop me.”

A moment later, Mrs. Makepiece joined them and shockingly pronounced Colonel Wainwright to be “Quite the gentleman. Very polite and gallant. He impressed me very much. A fine, charming fellow.”

Becky stared at the lady. “Are you quite well, madam?”

“Of course.” Struggling to permit herself a smile, the usually dour woman added, “I must congratulate you on your conquest, however it came about.” She exchanged a knowing glance with Mrs. Penny. “I’m sure you will both know every happiness.”

“Although he is much older than she is,” the other lady pointed out, discussing Becky as if she weren’t standing there before them.

“Still, I daresay he will bring her behavior under a firmer hand,” said Mrs. Makepiece. “He doesn’t seem the sort to tolerate a wayward bride, and Rebecca has not had much discipline in her life. It will do her good.”

“I am
not
engaged to him,” Becky exclaimed hotly, “whatever he tells you. It may try the bounds of your belief, but I am not so desperate!” She began to think she
was
dreaming this after all. Or else she was a ghost that no one could see or hear.

Indeed the ladies looked at her blankly as if she hadn’t spoken. Then Mrs. Penny, distracted by the arrival of a molded jelly just placed on the sideboard, had the opportunity to boast about the exceptional talents of her daughter’s new chef, a man brought from Mr. Wainwright’s Mayfair house.

Becky’s predicament was temporarily forgotten while the ladies discussed the merits of molded puddings and French chefs.

Next came Darius Wainwright, approaching cautiously to offer his congratulations. Becky tempered her response carefully.

“Thank you, but I fear it was a misunderstanding that led the colonel to think we’re engaged.”

“Ah.” His dark eyes simmered with hidden thoughts. “I might have known. Another of his practical jokes, amusing to no one but himself. What has he done to you?”

“Done to me?” Alarmed, she glanced over at Mrs. Kenton, but the lady was trailing around the room after a limping Lucky Luke, her lips moving all the while, as rapidly as her feet. Her victim looked as if he wished he had something to swat her with. “He has not done anything to me, sir, I assure you.”

But Darius Wainwright stared at her, his face mournful as a month of wet wash-day Mondays. He must know the sort of trouble his brother was capable of causing.

Finally came poor little Sarah, expressing such genuine warmth and excitement at the idea of a newfound father
and
stepmother that Becky’s heart pinched when she had to let the girl down.
It
would
be
crueler
, she thought,
to
lie
and
pretend
all
is
well
. So she was straightforward as usual. “I’m sorry, Sarah, but I am not marrying the colonel. It was naught but a misunderstanding.”

“How could that be? He seems certain.”

“Yes, Sarah. I have found that men are never so certain about anything as they are when they cling to a mistaken idea.”

“How very odd.”

“Men frequently are.”

Sarah frowned. “Do women never make mistakes?”

“Occasionally. The difference is that we learn from ours. Men never like to admit they’re wrong and therefore they cannot learn from experience. We become more sensible as we mature. Men often become many degrees more juvenile and harebrained.”

They both looked over to where Mrs. Kenton had the colonel trapped, commanding his attention with her blithely intrusive questions. She was eager to let him know she had a connection with his family, for she considered herself a close friend of his stepsister, Viscountess Waltham. It was a subject they were all sick of hearing about. When Becky stole a glance at his face, it was clear from Lucky Luke’s expression that he was bored of it too, despite the fact that he’d only just met Mrs. Kenton. “Lady Waltham told me you were quite the scoundrel in your youth, Colonel!” The parson’s wife shook her finger at him, her loud voice seizing the attention of everyone in the room.

“In my youth, I was many things, madam. I have put those days behind me now. Excuse me.” He screwed up his face as if in great pain and took a step away from her.

But he could not escape Mrs. Kenton. She moved with him and almost got swiped across the leg by his cane as he swerved.

Becky remembered how he once claimed never to answer questions from women. No wonder this forced, studied politeness sat upon him tonight with as much ease as his borrowed clothes.

“You fought with the Dragoons, Colonel?” Mrs. Kenton demanded. “In India? Is that so?”

He grunted a reply before swiftly finishing his glass of punch and not giving the slightest encouragement to Mrs. Kenton’s conversation—not that she needed any.

Like a lame, frustrated tiger caged in an exhibit, he bided his time, waiting for freedom again, observing his audience with wary eyes and letting out the occasional menacing grumble. Becky didn’t believe for a minute that this reform he mentioned was true. Certainly it could not last. They might have dressed him up for display tonight, but the skin of his knuckles was still rough. He could not hide that, and apparently his brother had no gloves to fit him.

Diana now sat at the pianoforte and began to play, her skilled fingers leaping across the keys in a valiant attempt to obscure Mrs. Kenton’s voice.

“The colonel says he met you in Brighton, Miss Sherringham,” said little Sarah suddenly. “I have been here a month and you never mentioned it.”

“I did not know who he was then. Your father kept his identity a secret.”

Your
father
. Her tongue felt thick as it stumbled over those words. Lucky Luke had a daughter, and she was only six years younger than Becky. In another year or two, he could even be a grandfather, for pity’s sake. There was another fact exposed like a raw nerve in a tooth.

A man with a daughter that age should not kiss the way he did. Good God. She melted again, just thinking about the way he’d—

“I should rescue the colonel from Mrs. Kenton,” said Sarah, still looking confused.

“Yes, I think you had better. His leg seems to be troubling him excessively.”

When Sarah called out for Ness, the ugly mutt ambled out from beneath the pianoforte, looking extremely sorry for himself. Like his master, Ness was all dressed up this evening, bathed and combed, a large bow of plaid taffeta decorating his collar.

Sarah took him over to the colonel, where Ness immediately began to sniff and growl at Mrs. Kenton’s skirt, becoming so insistent that the lady’s conversation kept getting cut off as she turned in circles, protesting with as much merriment as she could maintain. Becky heard the colonel mutter nonchalantly that he thought his dog was interested in her perfume.

“It does smell a little like a Yorkshire hot pot, madam,” he added.

Flustered, Mrs. Kenton protested that it was a perfume she distilled herself. “Everybody always wants to know how I make it. It is a perfume much admired.”

“My dog certainly appreciates it.”

But after a few more wailing protests from the lady, and clearly having amused himself long enough, Lucky Luke whistled sharply and Ness sat back on his haunches, releasing Mrs. Kenton from his lusty attention. The lady beat a rapid retreat, backing away from the dog until she had reached Becky by the sofa.

“Lucius Wainwright may claim to be a changed man, but he was once an utter rake for whom no stone of debauchery was left unturned.” She stared hard at Becky. “It would do you a service, young lady, to let you know the trouble you’re taking on.”

That statement quickly seized the attention of the other women and they gathered around, even those who might like to think gossip beneath them.

“There is scarce a heart, or at least a reputation, between London and Bombay that he has not left shattered. My very particular friend, Viscountess Waltham—who is his stepsister, don’t you know—told me that in his heyday, he often kept three young ladies on his arm at once and still that did not stop him from looking for another. His antics quite shamed the family.” Although the woman made some attempt at a whisper, it was not as low or as discreet as it might have been. Fortunately Diana’s playing of a merry Scots reel was just loud enough to keep their conversation from the ears of anyone across the drawing room. “They say the man kept a
harem
.”

Mrs. Makepiece tipped to one side, gripping the back ridge of the sofa as if she needed smelling salts. A scandalized whisper slipped out from between her pale lips. “A harem?”

“Indeed. The more the merrier in his bed, so I hear. Not that it was always in a bed.”

Justina had walked over to join the ladies, and she responded crossly to this outrageous remark, “However my brother-in-law once led his life, that is all in the past.”

“But they do say leopards never change their spots,” Mrs. Kenton replied, undaunted. She turned to Becky and whispered behind her fan. “I would advise you to be wary, Miss Sherringham. He never married that little girl’s mama, you know, and I shouldn’t be surprised if there are more by-blows wandering about the country. The man had a shameless aversion to matrimony. Until now.”

“Mrs. Kenton, I have already told you that I am not going to marry—”

“That poor child, Sarah,” the heedless woman went on. “Lady Waltham told me he did not take responsibility for the babe when she was born. No one would ever have known she existed if the child’s strumpet mother had not delivered her into the family’s safekeeping when Lucius went off to India.”

Justina had heard all this, despite Mrs. Kenton’s attempt at a sly whisper. “Madam, Sarah’s mother is not alive to defend herself against unkind gossip and we know nothing about her.”

The woman remained unapologetic. “Well, it is fair conjecture. Lucius never pursued proper young ladies, and any decent mother would keep her daughter out of his way.”

Becky pressed her lips together, reliving again how he’d kissed her last night. And where. He was a rake, a reckless libertine
with
a
harem
and at least one illegitimate child. A daughter he’d abandoned.

The pastor’s wife was not yet finished with her lurid tale. She fanned her chin rapidly and continued, “He once seduced his brother’s sweetheart, you know. Stole her away from under his nose just as bold as you please. Darius never recovered from the betrayal by both his brother and the little slattern involved. Dora Woodgrave, the daughter of his tutor. Darius would have married her, had his brother not come home on leave and ruined her innocence.”

Becky felt her friend bristling with anger at her side.

“If my husband is prepared to forgive, madam, then so must we,” Justina exclaimed tightly. “My brother-in-law has returned to us a new man, reformed and contrite. Now he is engaged to my friend, and it is even more imperative that we believe in his desire for improvement.”

Yet again, Becky tried to correct this misconception. “But I am not going to marry—”

“Of course.” The parson’s wife partially bowed her head in a gesture of unconvincing meekness. “I only thought to state the facts for Rebecca’s sake. As a friend with her best interests at heart, you would surely wish for her to know.”