Sinfully Ever After (Book Club Belles Society) (23 page)

“I wouldn’t put it past you!” Head high, she walked on quickly, almost running as she came to the iron gates.

“Miss Sherringham—Rebecca—wait. Please.”

“I’m just having
fun
,” she yelled. “You told me I should have some, didn’t you?”

* * *

Why did he have to try and control her? She was a woman who had enjoyed a fairly independent life, traveling with her father. Under no circumstances would she give all that up to be one of his minions, having to report all her comings and goings to him. Getting as soppy as Justina Wainwright, who couldn’t even stay angry at Mrs. Kenton anymore.

Charles helped her up onto the back of his horse. “I was tired of waiting for you and decided to fetch you myself,” he said.

When Becky looked back over her shoulder, she saw the colonel standing with one hand on the gate, watching them through the bars. Wind ruffled the dark hair on his hatless head and pushed the tall collar of his coat against his scarred cheek. She turned her face away, determined not to feel that ruthless tug upon her heart again. It was merely indigestion; she was convinced of it.

But then another thought occurred and she looked back once more. He was still watching. Curiously he did not have his cane with him and yet he must have walked very quickly after her along the gravel carriage drive. His tanned, rugged face was lined with agony.

* * *

He watched them disappear around the bend, and then he returned to the pig sty and tossed a bucket of Christmas scraps into the beast’s trough. As he stood there, getting his angry breath back, the pig nudged a fence slat with his snout until it opened. Ness ambled through the gap and the slat swung shut again. Dog and pig ate happily, side by side, a friendship formed with that mutual appreciation for good food.

If
only
other
unlikely
alliances
could
be
so
easily
and
simply
founded
, he thought sadly.

His leg burned now as if it was on fire, but as she had walked away from him, he’d had no choice but to chase after her, even when he lost his grip on the cane and it fell to the gravel. He needed her to stop, needed to catch her. That had overridden the pain. Now it was back with a vengeance.

She claimed not to want her reputation saved, and Luke had never before tried to save one. Yet he was determined to make this work.

Why? Just because he’d been seen kissing her?

Because Sarah had her heart set on it?

For his brother’s approval?

Out of lust?

Or was there another reason?

He’d never spent so much damnable time thinking about a woman. One awkward, curt, untrusting wench.

Last night he’d faltered again, taken another step back from his quest for reform, drowning his frustration in brandy, alone in his room, cursing the finials of his bedposts and anything else that couldn’t talk back. Ness had wisely slept under the bed last night, out of sight.

He knew he should not have said anything to her against Clarendon. That would only cause her to turn farther away from him. She took offense at anyone treating her in a concerned way because she was not accustomed to it and had lived twenty-two years with a father who merrily turned a blind eye to the dangers that awaited his lively daughter. It was worrisome that the major had been so ready to hand Rebecca over to him. Would he be so ready and careless with any other unworthy man who came along? Instead of approaching Rebecca, who would only block her stubborn ears, perhaps the best way to handle this was to have a word with her distracted father. The major ought to be made aware of certain issues developing, for he was the one man who had a right to chastise her, the one man she would listen to.

Fun. Yes, he wanted her to have plenty of that. But not with Clarendon, or any other man.

With him.

Becky pointed out the turning for the Bolt, and Charles slowed his horse as they passed under the arch of wintering trees.

“What was the old man babbling to you about? I saw him stumble after you to the gate.”

“He wished me a merry Christmas, that’s all.” She felt quite winded, as if she had a stitch in her side.

Charles drew the horse to a halt, swung his leg over its head, and slipped down to stand on the yellow, trampled, and muddy grass. He held up his arms for her.

“Shouldn’t we ride straight to Diana’s, if I’m late?”

“I must talk to you first.”

She couldn’t very well urge his horse onward and leave him behind, so she slid down but avoided his waiting arms. Her own still hugged the copy of
Sense
and
Sensibility
to her bosom.

“We walked here the last time I came,” he said.

“Yes, but the leaves are all gone now.” The branches were bare, tangled, and knotted overhead, a few gaps between showing the stark winter sky. In the summer, it was a lush canopy of emerald and gold. When Charles was last there, it had turned to autumnal colors and he had remarked upon it being just like her hair.

“This is where we kissed,” he reminded her, clasping her hand.

“Let’s make haste. Diana is waiting.”

“You do not want to kiss me today?”

“No. Not today.”

He leaned away as if she’d struck him across the face.

“I heard there is an earl’s daughter at Lark Hollow and that’s why you’re here.” Why tiptoe around the subject? She didn’t have time for his flirting today.

A loud bellow made them both jump, and suddenly the narrow path was filled with cows. Charles swore under his breath as they huddled out of the way to let the herd pass. Mr. Gates brought up the rear and tipped his hat to them, shouting a “Merry Christmas.”

Becky was ready to walk on, but Charles gripped her waist and spun her around. “There is always an earl’s daughter somewhere. But that is why I enjoy your company. You are so different from all of them.”

“You are expected to marry her?”

“Lady Olivia Moncrieff, I suppose you mean. Who told you that?”

She did not want to mention Luke. “I overheard your sister mention something.”

Charles scoffed. “Eliza is impatient for either Kit or me to marry money, since she’s had no luck. If one of us succeeded in catching a titled heiress, it would take Father’s mind off her failures. That’s why he sent us off for Christmas; lost his patience with the three of us. But particularly with Kit, who should have provided an heir long before now.”

She sighed and rubbed her arms, feeling the bitter chill of wind blowing hard down that narrow tunnel of trees.
How
very
mercenary
it
all
is
, she mused darkly—this business of marriage. Yet it might also be called practical. It was the way she’d always forced herself to think, determined not to stray into romantic ideas and thinking herself above all that nonsense.

“You know that I cannot marry
you
,” he added.

“Yes.”

“Then what does an earl’s daughter matter to us?”

He tightened his hold upon her and she feared he meant to take a kiss, but before he could do so, Mrs. Kenton appeared, her face flushed, possibly from too much festive wine. Racing down the Bolt, she saw Charles’s arm around her, but she had not seen Rebecca struggling.

That infamous voice rang out in “full boom.” “
Miss
Sherringham!
I am shocked! You and yet another man. What excuse are you to make for this? Another boot lace?”

Furious, Becky pushed Charles away and ran, with Mrs. Kenton still shouting after her.

Charles found it all vastly amusing and he laughed uproariously, soon following Becky on horseback.

* * *

Luke joined the major at the sideboard as the plum pudding was served.

“Ah, you are back with us, Colonel!” The merry fellow smiled. “Did you take some air? You seemed in need of it.”

“Yes.” He looked over at the pianoforte where Sarah and Justina were playing a soft, sweet tune together. “Major, I think you ought to ask Charles Clarendon his intentions with your daughter.” He kept his voice low. “It may not be my business, but I—”

“Yet you are still concerned for her?”

“I find I cannot be anything else.”

The major’s eyed widened. “Then you are not such the lost sinner some would paint you, Colonel.”

“Hmm.” He didn’t know about that; he was fairly sure he had once been every bit as bad as people thought.

They listened to the music for a while and then the older man said, “My good lady wife would not have me at first either, but I persisted. Sometimes a feller must persist.”

Always interested to hear more about her background, Luke perked up. “Rebecca told me her mother was a local girl. A farmer’s daughter.”

“Indeed she was.” The major closed his eyes, savoring his pudding and his memories. “The most beautiful milkmaid I ever laid eyes upon. Hair the color of sunset. Just like my daughter’s.” He opened his eyes and they twinkled up at Luke, also like his daughter’s. “She fancied herself in love with your great-uncle, in fact.”

“
Phineas
Hawke?
”
Is
the
major
in
his
cups
already
, Luke wondered. As far as he knew, his great-uncle had never loved anyone or anything as much as himself and his coin.

“Aye, the stinkin’ rich feller that lived here in this manor house. They had an affair one summer, but he could not marry her. His family wanted better for him and they would not accept a farmer’s daughter. She was heartbroken, but I took her in and saved her from scandal. At first I believe she was merely grateful to me, thankful that I could take her far away. But I was persistent. I was patient. I cherished that woman with all my heart and she did grow to love me. We had our years of happiness together.” He beamed. “So you see, there is always hope when there is love.”

Luke found it difficult to imagine haughty old Phineas indulging in a love affair with a farmer’s daughter, but he must have been young once, of course. There was a time when Luke did not believe
he
would ever fall in love either.

He stared at the wall over the major’s head.

Was that what this was? This anxiety, this yearning, this madness that tormented him? This admiration for something more than a set of bubbies and good teeth? This need to make her his alone? Had he fallen in love?

“On the very day of our wedding, your sly great-uncle had a change of heart. Sent her a pearl and ruby necklace to try and lure her away, but the lass said her mind was made up. She would not even take it out of the box but returned it to him along with a few harsh words. Aye, she had a temper to match that hair.”

No
surprise
there
, mused Luke.

“Hawke was reputed to be such a miser with his coin and yet he sent her several presents, including a music box, which is the only thing she never sent back to him. Becky is very fond of that music box.”

“I know,” he said, remembering.

Darius had walked over to see what they talked about and when he heard about the pearl and ruby necklace, he exclaimed, “That clears up a mystery for us, Major. While my wife and I were sorting through my great-uncle’s papers, we found a receipt for just such a necklace from Gray’s in Sackville Street. We have never found the item itself, however, and I assumed it was a present for a lady. Although, of course, he never married.”

The major insisted that his wife had sent it directly back to Phineas, so where the necklace might be now was unknown.

“Considering the old man’s foul temper, I wouldn’t be surprised if he buried it in the backyard,” muttered Luke, one hand laid against his waistcoat, where he felt the slight bulge of his secret pigsty find.

So now he knew to whom it rightfully belonged.

* * *

Becky was still trying to come up with an excuse for arriving breathless and pink-faced in the Makepieces’ dining room when Charles entered behind her and told the folk seated around the table that they’d been racing.

“Racing?” Diana’s mother frowned in disapproval.

“Yes, indeed. And as you see, the enchanting Miss Sherringham is the victor.” He pulled a chair out for Becky and she sat quickly. “You know my sister already, of course, and you will remember Kit, my brother?”

The thick-set gentleman sprawled in a chair across the table gave an indolent sneer in her vague direction. He was a little wider than the last time he visited, his cheeks fleshier, and perhaps his lank, sandy hair had receded another inch from his forehead. “Miss Sherringham,” he drawled, “still entertaining my little brother, eh what?”

Charles sat beside her. “She has been a most excellent guide and shown me all the sights of the village.”

“I’m sure she has.” Kit leered across the table and Elizabeth tittered slyly into her napkin.

Becky realized that Diana was rather subdued, picking listlessly at her pear poached in wine. “Where is William Shaw?” she exclaimed. “I thought he would be here by now. He has missed dinner.”

Diana lifted her eyes, although they were heavy with sadness. “I’m afraid his grandmama’s health took a turn for the worse yesterday and Mr. Shaw could not be spared.”

Kit Clarendon gave a series of snorts like that of a boar rooting through a trough. “Seems he ain’t so keen as you thought, coz. Old lady rich, is she? I daresay the chap has to stay on her good side. You’ll always come second in his affections, but the pin money will make up for it.”

Diana looked embarrassed and her mother didn’t seem to know where to direct her gaze.

Perhaps it was the anger and shame of getting caught by Mrs. Kenton again when this time it was not her fault. Perhaps it was her frustration with Luke for suddenly being concerned with “proper” when it probably hadn’t troubled him for thirty-seven years. Or perhaps it was Charles thinking he could kiss her even against her will. Whatever the reason, Becky could not stay quiet and ladylike. “Not everyone’s motives are led by coin, Mr. Clarendon. Diana is marrying Mr. Shaw for more than his fortune, which, incidentally, has been earned through his own hard work and not inherited.”

Kit’s eyes became two wary slits in his puffy face. “Opinionated, hain’t you?”

“Yes, I have opinions. I assumed that since you had just expressed yours, I ought to be allowed to express mine. But perhaps if I weren’t a female, it wouldn’t cause nearly as much concern.”

At her side, Charles laughed softly and slid a hand under the table to squeeze her fingers.

“Isn’t she delightful, my rebellious, hot-headed lady?”

She pulled her hand from his.

Kit sniffed, still glaring at her through those unattractive, water-logged cracks in his swollen facade.

“I hope the major is in good health today,” Diana said politely.

“Yes, thank you.”

“And the colonel? He seemed a little out of sorts yesterday evening after the treasure hunt.”

At this, Elizabeth Clarendon bunched her napkin in her bony fist and drew it away from her face to snarl, “So he should have been, after that vulgar display. It was shocking that I should be spoken to in such a manner. I have never heard the like of it. So crude!”

“Colonel?” Kit murmured. “Colonel who?”

“Wainwright,” his brother replied with a sly laugh. “You know Lucius Wainwright. He cost you a few teeth once.”

“A horrid, uncouth fellow,” Elizabeth added, shuddering delicately.

“Wainwright, eh?” Kit growled the name. “He was supposed to be dead. So he’s nearby, is he? Interesting.”

“He has a plain, spiteful little daughter too. Out of wedlock, of course,” Elizabeth remarked nastily. “His family seems to think they can hush up the fact that she is illegitimate. They treat her as if she is a normal child and should be welcomed in any drawing room of society. I wonder what they can be thinking to raise her with false expectations. It will only make it harder for the girl to accept her place later in life.”

“Her place?” Diana looked astonished. “What can you mean by that?”

“You know very well that she will never be accepted by fine society, and her family is doing the girl an injustice by raising her that way—with music tutors and dancing instructors.”

Becky’s fury mounted quickly. “Perhaps you think she should be kept in a dark room and fed bread and gruel to make recompense for the sins of her parents?”

“She only needed a very basic education, enough to find her a governess post eventually. Giving her so many opportunities, they have produced a girl educated beyond her needs. She will never make a good marriage, and to raise her as a lady with prospects is a mistake.” She smiled in a cool, condescending way that further curdled Becky’s blood. “The parson’s wife told me today that the girl’s mother was a music hall trollop. A slattern with no family and not a penny to her name.” She sighed with false concern. “Lucius Wainwright appears to prefer that sort of woman and it’s no surprise to me now, as I’ve seen how he behaves. A decent woman would never put up with it.”

Becky would not listen to any more. “Sarah Wainwright is a pleasant girl, well-read, well-behaved, and a talented artist. As for being raised as a lady, madam, she has more natural elegance than some other women of my acquaintance who could not achieve the same sweetness of temper and ladylike demeanor if they were schooled for a hundred years in the subject. Indeed, I have wondered a great deal lately about the definition of ‘a lady’ and ‘a gentleman.’ I find myself more confused than ever by their meaning.”

There was a pause.

“Well said, Miss Sherringham,” cried Charles.

His sister shook her head. “You know that I am right, Charles. And your
friend
, it seems”—she glared hard at Becky—“only champions a female opinion when it is her own.”

Mrs. Makepiece was back to her usual stern countenance today, her hair pulled severely back. “There must be something in the air lately,” she muttered sourly. “A lot of this…expressing of one’s opinions and emotions.” Glowering at Diana, who bowed her head and studied her lap, she added, “It is unseemly. If you ask me, those Wainwrights will quite spoil this village.”