The Seduction of Mr. Yarnsby

by McQueen, Hildie

  “We should go home, then,” William said. “I am sure there is plenty of food left from the tea Mother and Clara hosted earlier this afternoon.”

  They made their way from the coffee shop toward the townhouse. The carriage was forced to a slow pace by the many people out and about.

  With all the entertaining, servants were dispatched to every corner of London to find specific items for the evening soirees. From geese to crystal, every item imaginable had to be acquired for London’s elite to impress each other.

  “I hope we do not have any social events pressing,” Alex said to William. “If so, I will not attend.”

  William laughed. “Unfortunately, it will be impossible for you to be absent.”

  Straightening, he frowned at his friend. “Why?”

  “Because Mother and Clara are entertaining at the townhouse tonight. Not only the Humphries family, but also the Barrows.”

  “The Barrows?” Alexander had met Lord and Lady Barrow on several occasions. They were an agreeable pair. So much so that their social status had not even been affected by their son’s unfortunate fall from grace.

  “Any word on their son?”

  William shrugged. “It has been almost five years since he left for India. I suspect he will return soon.”

  “Society has a good memory when it comes to scandal. Even if he waits ten years, Gideon Barrow will always be considered dishonorable.” Alex chuckled. “Which is why I like him.”

  “I do as well,” his friend agreed.

  “Let me out,” Alex said upon spotting something interesting through a bakery window. “I will be along soon.” Before William could ask, not that his friend seemed inclined to, Alex exited the coach.

  “...and two of those please.” The woman leaned over the display case, a basket firmly in her hand. “Add the third one so it won’t remain alone.”

  The singsong voice made the corners of his lips inch up.

  “Miss Humphries.”

  Vivian Humphries started, her wide eyes turning to him. “Mr. Yarnsby, you startled me half to death.”

  “I apologize.” He gave a slight bow.

  Her gaze moved from him to the doorway. It was then he noted she was alone. Not acceptable for a woman of her social stature.

  “Why are you here?” she asked, a challenge in her voice. “This is not near the Torrington townhouse.”

  “Nor is it near your home,” he replied, then regretted the childish retort.

  “My cousin Glenda lives around the corner. I am on my way to visit.” Once again, she looked to the doorway. “Are you alone?”

  Alex nodded. “Indeed, I am. To answer your question, I am here because I am very hungry.”

  “I see,” she replied, accepting the wrapped pastries from the woman behind the counter.

  When he did not move or reply, her cheeks pinkened.

  “Good day, Mr. Yarnsby.” She rounded him and walked out.

  “Sir?” the woman behind the counter asked.

  Torn between his stomach’s growl and curiosity, Alex decided to follow Vivian. It was most uncommon for a woman to be out alone without escort. A part of him couldn’t help but wonder if she was out to meet with the blob of man she’d invited to dinner the night before.

  The wind seemed colder as he turned the corner in the direction Vivian had gone. Sure enough, she was alone.

  A pair of street urchins rushed to her, and she laughed at something they said. She tore one of the pastries into sections and handed pieces to each child. Together with the dirty children, she went to a doorway, where she entered.

  The exterior of the building was nondescript. A red-faced woman lugging a heavy bundle exited and motioned for a man with a cart to come closer. Together she and the man loaded what looked to be clothing onto the cart.

  “Pardon,” Alex said, nearing. “I am looking for a friend. Are these apartments?”

  The woman chuckled without mirth. “Can call ’em that, I suppose.” She gave him a once over. “We may all be poor, but we are honest people ’ere.”

  Obviously, she figured that he was seeking someone for illegal matters.

  “I seek to employ a servant,” he clarified. “A woman with red hair applied.”

  “No one with red hair comes ’ere but Miss Vivian. She don’t be needin’ employment.” The woman cackled. “She’s a saint who comes to spend time and feed the elderly.”

  The pair rode off, talking loudly about him. Mostly they’d decided he was not to be trusted. Alex met his own gaze in a dirty window. Perhaps with his hair blown this way and that and the scarf pulled up to his ears, he did seem seedy.

  * * *

  Upon entering the townhouse, Alexander was immediately directed to get out of the way by William’s wife, Clara.

  “If you’re hungry, go to the kitchen, Alex, but please do not ask for food to be prepared. They are extremely busy for our dinner party tonight.” Her eyes shined bright. “My first dinner party. I am so very excited.”

  He couldn’t help but smile at her. With vibrant green eyes and red hair matching her sister’s, she was a beauty. However, in his opinion, Vivian was the prettiest of the three sisters, and of a more even temperament.

  The three sisters were independent thinkers, which appealed to him. Penelope, the youngest, was the most outspoken, and Clara was the adventurous one. He’d yet to decide what trait was Vivian’s strongest.

  “I saw your sister Vivian today,” he remarked, ignoring Clara’s attempt to shoo him away. “She was alone at a bakery not too far from the market near your home.”

  Clara didn’t seem surprised. Obviously, much to their parent’s consternation, the sisters often escaped to go out without escort. “Ah yes, she must have gone to visit Mr. and Mrs. Conner. The poor dears. Have no one to look after them. I must remind her we need to hire someone for that task whilst we are away in the country.”

  “Why does she go in person?” He followed Clara as she hurried to the dining room.

  She turned, a frown on her face. “Why would she not?” Her expression changed when her companion, Molly, entered with a floral arrangement. “Oh, how beautiful.” She looked back to Alex. “Do not mention seeing her alone to my parents tonight.”

  Chapter 3

  “He walked into the bakery. How very strange.” Penelope was perched on Vivian’s bed, dressed only in her chemise. “Was he as dashing as the other night?” Her sister sighed dramatically. “Mr. Yarnsby is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

  “Then perhaps you should strive for a courtship,” Vivian replied.

  “Ha,” Penelope exclaimed. “He only has eyes for you. As a matter of fact, we were all surprised he did not try to intercept between you and that dreadful Mr. Jameson.”

  “Mr. Jameson is not dreadful.” Vivian held up a mauve gown that she planned to wear that night. The high velvet-trimmed neckline was flattering, and the long sleeves would keep her warm.

  After running into Yarnsby at the bakery, she’d thought of nothing else. He had indeed looked dashingly handsome. The cold air had brought color to his cheeks, and his windblown hair had made him seem dangerous. There was something about the man that made her lose her train of thought. It was most annoying.

  “Why do you not admit to being attracted to him?” Penelope studied her, then looked to the dress. “That gown is ugly. You never wear it once you try it on. I am not sure what the dressmaker was thinking.”

  “I am not in the least attracted to Mr. Yarnsby. He has been nothing by an annoyance. Why would I wish to be with someone who runs off anyone interested in suiting me but does not declare himself? I believe he is playing a game.”

  “You should play one back, then,” Penelope quipped. Her younger sister’s eyes rounded, and a wide smile slowly creeped up until her entire face transformed. “I have an amazingly devilish idea.”

  “What is it, Pen?” Vivian asked as she pulled a different gown, this time a green one, from the wardrobe.

  �
�What if you seduce Mr. Yarnsby?”

  Vivian spun. “Why on earth would I do that?”

  Holding her hands out, Penelope made her hesitate. “Pretend to seduce him, string him along, then when he is about to fall, you waltz away. Give him a taste of his own medicine.”

  “He has never tried to seduce me. Quite the opposite—he acts as some sort of strange protector.” She shook her head. “Like today when I went to visit the Connors. He followed me to the building.”

  “No!” Penelope was enthralled now. “Did he go inside?”

  “He did not.”

  There was a rap on the door, and her lady’s maid, Mary, entered. “A note for you, Miss Vivian.”

  “Is the messenger awaiting a reply?”

  “No, miss, the messenger went off.”

  The note was short and to the point.

  “What is it?” Penelope attempted to read over her shoulder.

  Vivian huffed. “An apology from Mr. Jameson for being so forward last night at dinner. He informs me that he will not pursue any courtship with me.”

  “Mr. Yarnsby,” they said in unison.

  Their mother entered, then she stopped in her tracks and gawked at them. “Why are neither of you dressed? We are about to depart.”

  They dressed hurriedly, their mother fussing about their lack of care over their appearance the entire time. In the end, Vivian wore the ugly mauve dress. If Mr. Yarnsby was to be there, she wished it to be as unflattering as possible.

  Both her mother and Penelope were polite when she asked about her appearance, but it was obvious the color did not suit her in the least.

  “That is not the right dress if you plan to seduce him,” Penelope whispered once they were ensconced in the coach.

  “The last thing I wish to do is that,” Vivian hissed. “If anything, I hope to avoid the man.”

  “What about at the country estate?” Penelope quipped. “You are going birdwatching.”

  She’d forgotten about it. “I’ll make excuses.”

  * * *

  The townhouse was aglow when their carriage pulled up. It made Vivian’s heart happy to attend her sister’s first-time hosting. She’d purposefully stayed away that day, even though she wanted so much to help Clara. True to form, always independent, Clara had banned everyone from coming earlier, except their mother, who would have ignored orders anyway.

  Now as she and Penelope walked up the stairs behind their parents, pride filled her at spotting Clara standing next to her husband, Viscount William Torrington. The smile on Clara’s face was so wide, it made Vivian want to weep.

  “Dear sister,” Vivian exclaimed once her turn to be greeted came. “I am so very proud of you.” She turned to look into the lavishly decorated parlor. “Everything is absolutely perfect.”

  Clara beamed. “Mother and Duchess Torrington were invaluable.” Her eyes rounded. “Oh dear, Lord and Lady Barrow have arrived.”

  “Don’t fret. They are close as family and will be so pleased to see you.” Vivian gave her sister a tight hug before turning to greet William.

  The viscount leaned over her hand, his dashingly handsome features made even more prominent in the candlelight. “Miss Vivian, so nice to see you.”

  Vivian found the rest of the guests in the parlor. Duke and Duchess Torrington stood with her parents, the couples surrounding a table where wrapped gifts had been placed.

  Penelope had made a beeline to the fireplace and was petting William’s dogs, who seemed to be on their best behavior. The only other time she’d seen the canines had been when they’d stolen sausages and were being chased across Hyde Park by the viscount.

  Sensing someone’s regard, Vivian purposely ignored it. Instead, she went to stand next to her mother so she could greet the Barrows.

  Before the Barrows could approach, Mr. Yarnsby neared, his gaze meeting hers for a long moment.

  “Did you enjoy the bread, Miss Vivian?”

  Quick as she could, Vivian grabbed his arm and pulled him to where Penelope and the dogs were. If he was surprised, he didn’t act like it, his face devoid of expression.

  “I know you followed me,” she whispered harshly. “Very ill-mannered of you to do so.”

  “I will admit to being curious, Miss Vivian. Especially at noting you were not escorted.”

  She looked over his shoulder to where her mother studied her with curiosity. No doubt she’d seen how she’d pulled him away. Thankfully, the Barrows distracted her.

  “I was escorted, y-you must have not seen her. My companion Mary goes with me everywhere.”

  Beneath lowered eyelids, his green gaze studied her face as if searching for the truth. “I see.”

  “Whatever you wish to imply...” Vivian stopped talking when Penelope tapped her arm. Their mother had neared.

  “Vivian, that was most unlike you to pull Mr. Yarnsby across the room in such a manner. Whatever is so exciting to bring that about?”

  Both Vivian and Penelope were struck silent. Unfortunately, Mr. Yarnsby was not. “Miss Vivian is hoping to cajole from me what is needed for our birdwatching expedition.”

  Their mother’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand why Duchess Torrington concluded you are interested in birds. I must say, she is looking forward to the three of you going out. Be a dear, Mr. Yarnsby, and go with her to ensure she purchases the necessary items before leaving London.”

  Vivian wanted to groan out loud. “We leave the day after tomorrow. I am sure Mr. Yarnsby is terribly busy and doesn’t have the time to—”

  “I would love to take you tomorrow,” the annoying man interrupted.

  “Wonderful,” her mother said, then took her arm. “Come, you must hear the news.”

  Lady Barrow excitedly informed them that her son, Gideon, was to return from India shortly. It was good news, as Vivian and her sisters had known him since they were children. After a horrible incident—Gideon had caused the ruin of a young woman—he’d been sent away by his parents, hoping to save him from complete social ruin.

  Nonetheless, he’d been branded a rogue, unworthy of redemption. With the five years he’d been gone, however, and the young woman in question marrying well, the whispering had waned.

  Upon his return, however, the chatter would pick up again, but hopefully it would be less traumatic for Lord and Lady Barrow.

  The subject of society’s standards made for a lively conversation, much to Clara’s delight. The younger people battling with the elders present brought a friendly banter that would end in more laughter than anger.

  Finally, they moved to the parlor, where William and Clara presented everyone with gifts. The men were gifted with scarves, and the women with fur-lined gloves. Duke and Duchess Torrington invited everyone for a Twelfth Night celebration at their country estate, and much to their delight, everyone accepted.

  Since Vivian and Penelope would already be in the country, they offered to help with preparations.

  “I have a gift for you, Vivian,” Duchess Torrington said and went to a side table. She placed a box on her lap, and everyone quieted to see what it was.

  Why the woman had singled her out was most puzzling. Vivian glanced to her mother, who gave her a pointed look.

  “Where are my manners?” Vivian stuttered. “This is much too kind of you. Thank you.”

  “Open it,” Penelope exclaimed, clasping her hands to her chest in excitement.

  Inside the box, under delicate tissue, was what looked to be a sketch pad and colored pencils. On the cover of the pad was a beautiful bird with its wings extended. Despite the fact she was not in the least bit interested in birdwatching, Vivian couldn’t wait to draw in it.

  “Oh my.” Vivian’s whisper was filled with awe. “It is breathtaking.”

  Duchess Torrington beamed. “I am so happy you love it. I find it is best to sketch either while seeing the birds or shortly after to get the best likeness.”

  Vivian couldn’t help but meet Mr. Yarnsby’s gaze. He looked on wit
h interest, a slight lift to the corner of his lips.

  Even with annoyance at the thought of spending time in the countryside with Alexander Yarnsby, Vivian enjoyed the evening tremendously. Her sister’s first event was perfect, and Clara glowed with happiness.

  “It is not often I see a smile on your lips when I am around ye, Miss Humphries.” Somehow Mr. Yarnsby had neared without her knowledge.

  He lowered onto the settee next to her, his crossed legs giving an air of nonchalance he seemed to have perfected.

  “I am happy for my sister. This evening is a success,” Vivian replied, keeping her gaze to where Penelope played the pianoforte.

  He leaned forward just enough to ensure she caught his look of consternation. “And now the smile is gone.”

  “Should we take a turn about the room?” Vivian stood, and after a moment, his eyebrows lifted, Alexander did the same.

  Vivian purposefully walked to the fireplace at other side of the room. Mr. Yarnsby joined her. Since the settee was behind the others’ chairs, only her father looked over to where they went, then returned his attention to Penelope.

  “You must stop interfering in my personal life,” Vivian asserted.

  The corners of his lips lifted, just enough to not quite become a smile. “I am not sure what you mean.”

  It took a lot of self-control not to do something childish like stomp on his perfectly shined boot. “You are well aware what I am referring to. I received a note earlier from Mr. Jameson, stating he will no longer be visiting. What did you do?”

  When he looked down his nose at her, Vivian curled her hands into fists. With one look or expression, he managed to make her so angry.

  “I happened upon Mr. Jameson at a gentlemen’s club. I merely asked his intentions and made it clear that you were not in the least bit interested.”

  With every word, her eyes went wider and wider. “How dare you?” At a loss for what else to do, Vivian’s mouth remained open.

  “Deny it,” Alexander prodded. “You wished nothing more than to be away from him, the other night at yer home, when he accosted you.”