Sinfully Ever After (Book Club Belles Society) (20 page)

As Sarah drew each name from her hat and shouted them out with an extraordinary amount of excitement, the couples formed pairs around her, each team handed a list and a basket.

To Becky’s horror, her name was called with the colonel’s. He had shot her such a bleak, angry look when he saw Charles Clarendon that she felt her heart stop for a moment. It was a look of disappointment and something more. She was certain he would lecture her again as soon as they were alone.

“Your friend looks very grim again tonight,” Charles whispered, his eyes laughing. “Is he sick? At his advanced years, he must suffer maladies to which we are yet immune. What do you suppose is the cause of his limp? Does he have a wooden leg?”

“No, he does not have a wooden leg,” she replied, tense.

“Something is amiss with my jolly Miss Sherringham tonight. She seems out of sorts. Is it because I was late for the book reading? I see I must make it up to her.”

She knew her mood
was
unsettled. And he had been so keen when she told him about the book society. Yet he had not bothered to come on time, and the scent of hops on his breath told her why he was late leaving the tavern. Luke, on the other hand, had come to the meeting even with no interest in books.

It was not the way it should be and she did not care for surprises.

Charles was paired with Lucy. “Ah, the sweetly amusing and rather giddy Miss Bridges,” as he called her. When Elizabeth Clarendon was paired with young Sarah, her face was a picture of disappointment. Justina and Diana were the final couple drawn.

“We will meet at the major’s house in one hour,” cried Justina. “And the couple with the most items found will be declared the winners.”

Lanterns were distributed, and one by one, the couples left the cottage, heading off on their hunt.

“Come on then,” Becky muttered peevishly to the colonel, hooking her wicker basket over one arm. “We may as well get on with it.”

The colonel, however, was preoccupied thanking Mrs. Makepiece profusely for her cake and hospitality. He lingered so long in the hall that they were the last pair to leave, and she began to think it was deliberate. As Becky finally got him out the door, she exclaimed sourly, “I hope you’re not going to lecture me about Charles again.”

He looked somber. “No.”

They passed through the gate and his silence was heavy; it seemed unnatural to her and yet it shouldn’t be. The first time she met him, he greeted her with grumpy, stern silence meant to intimidate her. “Well,” she exclaimed briskly, “you were awfully chatty to Diana’s mother. Are you trying to seduce her now too?”

“Of course. Can’t help myself, can I? Besides, you did recommend her to me.”

She stopped on the path. “So you’ve given up on our wager?”

Rather than a straight answer, he snapped, “You know how men are. Especially men like me. What do
you
think?”

“I think she’s perfect for you. I wish you joy.”

He smirked. “She told me I reminded her of her dearly departed husband.”

Rebecca huffed scornfully. Mrs. Makepiece seldom talked of Diana’s ne’er-do-well father, had never before referred to him as “dear” anything. She stopped grinding her teeth and said, “Well, she married for love the first time and look where that got her. She’s making her daughter marry for money, so why wouldn’t she? I daresay the Wainwright fortune would be inducement enough for her to overlook anything.”

“Are you forgetting all this manliness too? I may not be as pretty as young Master Clarendon, but at least in a dimly lit alley, I’d never be mistaken for a woman.”

She groaned and thrust the lantern into his hand. “Here, carry this and make yourself useful at least.”
Better
keep
those
hands
of
his
occupied
, she thought.

Under that swaying light, she eyed the list of items on the treasure hunt list and immediately became annoyed with Justina’s husband for coming up with it.

“A knave? Ha,” she turned to Luke, “you can be ours.”

“See? I have saved you valuable hunting time already.”

Becky read on. “A childhood toy…oh, Lord, I haven’t any, and I don’t suppose you—”

“You haven’t any left from your childhood?”

She shook her head, further irritated. “There was no time for toys and games. I always had too much else to do.”

He said nothing to this, but a heavy exhale of breath clouded around his mouth in the crisp evening air. It was dark already and the little blobs of lantern light, leading the other players off on their quest, scattered across the common in all directions. Becky examined her list again.

“A blooming flower?” she exclaimed. “In December?” Exasperated, she read on: “A sign of royal gratitude? Berries that bring peace? A baby bird yet to chirp? How on earth are we supposed to find that? Oh, I hate this stupid game. I wish I’d never agreed to play it.”

Lucky Luke calmly passed her the lantern and took the list in exchange. “Let me worry about the list and you carry the lantern. May as well make
yourself
useful at least.”

She scowled.

“You’re looking at it too literally, Miss Sherringham. But I remember, the first time we encountered each other, you told me you didn’t care for riddles. You prefer straightforward answers.”

Becky was surprised he remembered that. “Yes,” she sullenly replied. “I am excellent at solving problems—but real ones. Not these silly riddles. This is all so pointless, just as Miss Elizabeth Clarendon said. To be running about in the bitter cold for no reason, like children. That is the strangest list ever. I cannot believe Mr. Wainwright compiled it.”

“But you play because your friends enjoy it and you want to be a part of the festivities. You want to fit in here. Arrogant Miss Clarendon has no desire to do that, since she views the people here as less than herself, unworthy of her presence.”

She flicked another wary glance up at his face, but he was studying the list on the paper, not looking at her.

“Hold the lantern up, please. You’re waving it all over the place. My poor, misty old eyes need the light to read.”

With a loud huff, she lifted it higher and used both hands to steady it.

“And now you are angry, madam, not at this list, but because you have to play with me instead of Mr. Charles Clarendon. You have been waiting for his return to Hawcombe Prior and that is why you are so anxious to be rid of my wicked attentions.”

She gasped. “I have not sat around waiting for him. Who told you that? Justina, I suppose.”

Finally his gaze moved from the list to her face. “No. You told me so with your actions. You’re very self-conscious, trying hard to be ladylike around him.” He cleared his throat. “You don’t have to try with me, you know.”

For a moment, she was lost in that dark heat again, but Becky was determined not to drown in it. She was a strong swimmer and had learned at a young age when her brother threw her into a lake. “Oh…do get on with the list, Colonel. Diana’s mother watches us from her parlor window, no doubt.”

So they walked on.

“What do you mean by saying I take the list too literally?” she demanded. “What other way should it be taken?”

He smiled a little. A very little. He seemed saddened suddenly, she thought. Deflated somehow. “A baby bird yet to chirp? Perhaps one not yet born?”

“What are you rattling your teeth about?”

“Do you keep hens, Miss Sherringham?”

“Yes, of course!”

He turned his head to look down at her again and almost got hit in the eye as her lantern swung. “An egg, Miss Sherringham,” he explained.

She sniffed. “Oh. I knew that.”

Luke chuckled dourly, folding the list and slipping it into his coat pocket. “Since your usually sharp mind is clearly blunted by calf-love for Master Clarendon, I can see I had better solve the riddles tonight. Just try not to knock me out with the lantern.”

* * *

He was supposed to be behaving himself, so he tried not to look at her too often as she marched at his side, huffing and puffing.

“What about the other things on the list?” Rebecca exclaimed, swinging the lantern on its tall hook again so that it narrowly missed his head and the flame wavered drastically inside the glass. There was a broken pane on one of the four sides and this made the light flicker, constantly on the verge of being extinguished. “What about the childhood toy?”

“Easy. We’ll make one.” He took a knife from his pocket. “Just need a good piece of wood. Not too large.”

“Sam Hardacre always has scraps thrown out with the sawdust. He keeps it in a barrel in his yard.”

“Excellent.”

She led him to the carpenter’s cottage, where they retrieved a palm-sized piece of scrap wood. Luke set his cane aside and whittled the spare scrap quickly into a horse, much to her evident surprise and reluctant delight. She looked at his hands as if she would not have believed it had she not witnessed his skill with her own two eyes.

“That’s two down,” he said, placing the horse in her basket.

“Two?”

“I’m the knave, remember? You said so.”

She shrugged. “Very well then.” They walked on. “I don’t suppose you can pluck a blooming flower out of Sam Hardacre’s barrel too? Not even the parson’s sturdy rose bushes can produce buds in December.”

“You surprise me, Miss Sherringham, with your lack of ingenuity. But I suppose a person lost in the throes of passion cannot see beyond the face of their beloved.”

“You are determined to annoy me.”

He stopped on the path. “The blooming flower is you, of course.”

She drew back, her face aghast at the idea. “Me? Don’t talk nonsense!”

“The fairest flower in the garden.” It was true, he thought suddenly. She had never looked prettier than she did tonight. But she didn’t like him admiring her; it made her flustered and uneasy, so he should not have said that. A proper gent would never make a lady uneasy. He cleared his throat. “Now for the berries that bring peace,” he said briskly. “I believe we can find those in my brother’s orchard.”

“In winter?”

He laughed. “Just follow me, doubter. I know what we’re looking for.” Luke had a feeling she was merely being difficult because he was her partner. Her enthusiasm for the game had noticeably waned the moment they were paired up.

They walked up a slight hill toward the manor house. Luke became aware of her slowing down for his limp. It meant that she bumped into him occasionally. He didn’t mind it at all. Suddenly she said, “Justina mentioned that you mean to work for the family business now you’re returned.”

Ah! Polite conversation. Another test. “Yes,” he said, ducking smartly to miss the swaying lantern once more.

“Are you sure that will suit you?”

“In what way?”

She looked down at the snowy ground. “I cannot quite picture you at a desk like the one Mr. Wainwright has in his study.”

“I’ll manage.”

“But even with your—” She gestured with her free hand at his leg. “Somehow it seems as if you ought to be doing something more active.”

“Such as?”

She lifted one shoulder. “I couldn’t say, Colonel.”

“As you pointed out, I’m an old cripple. What can I do?”

Rebecca gave an impatient sigh that blew a stray copper lock out of her face. “I never called you that.”

“Funny, I seem to recall those very words from your lips. Before you demanded that I kiss you.” Oops, it was probably not gentlemanly to remind her. Too late.

She bit her lip worriedly. He expected her to shout at him again for that, but she didn’t. “Jussy says your brother is pleased to have you back again.”

His sister-in-law must have discussed him at length with Rebecca.

Before he could say anything, she blurted, “Is it true that you once stole his sweetheart?”

No point denying it. She liked him to be straightforward. “Yes. An error of my youth. I was home on leave from the army when I met Dora. She was the daughter of my brother’s tutor. I didn’t know he had feelings for her. Of course he never discussed such matters with me, nor did I encourage him to do so.” He grimaced. “I only learned afterward that he was thinking of proposing to the girl.”

“And what happened?”

It might feel good to confess to her, he realized. Darius hadn’t wanted to hear the full story, but this was his chance to unburden it. He wanted to be honest with this woman. She claimed she wasn’t afraid of anything, didn’t she?

“Dora was after me for the Wainwright fortune. Not the first or the last woman to try with Lucky Luke. But apparently she’d chased after my brother first, before she realized I was the one who would inherit everything. Poor Darius was swiftly forgotten. Assuming I’d seduced her on purpose, he wouldn’t speak to me. My father was the same. They closed ranks against me and I, left on the outside, thought it best that I stay there. Out of the way.”

She stared ahead, pensive, her breath puffing out little white clouds. “What about Dora?”

“Oh, she spent her way through my pockets, and when I assured her that I wasn’t going back home to make peace with my father just for the sake of the money, she hastily found a better prospect. I’m afraid my army pay did not appeal to her; she had finer tastes than I could afford.”

She nodded, her lips sucked inward as she absorbed his story.

“Is there anything else you wish to ask me about?” he prompted. “We have few chances to be alone together. We ought to make the most of this opportunity.” He sighed heftily. “I’ll let you ask me questions, I suppose. Just this once, mind, woman. Don’t make a habit of it.”

For a moment, she hesitated and then blurted again, “What about your harem?”

“My
harem
?” He squinted.

“The ladies who habitually followed you about. Mrs. Kenton says there were hundreds of women.”

“Hundreds, eh?” He whistled low, shaking his head.

“Is that all you have to say?” she demanded, almost dropping the lantern, getting her temper up again.

He eyed her in bemusement. “There were women in my past, yes. A man’s got to find some relief.”