The Seduction of Mr. Yarnsby

by McQueen, Hildie

  It was true; Mr. Jameson had put her off when declaring himself. Vivian had already begun to plan ways to dissuade him.

  “It is not your place to represent me Sir. Do not interfere in matters that pertain to me ever again.” Vivian rose to her tiptoes and glared at him. “Do you understand?”

  “Vivian?” Her mother tapped her shoulder. “Perhaps you would like to come join us?”

  It was then she looked over to find everyone stared at them.

  “See what you did?” She motioned to the other side of the room with her right hand.

  Thankfully, everyone in the room was either family or like family, so there was no chance of any rumors spreading. Nonetheless, it was mortifying that she had become so distracted as not to notice the music had stopped.

  Forcing a smile, she focused on Clara. “Mr. Yarnsby and I have different opinions on women’s rights.”

  It being one of Clara’s favorite subjects, her sister immediately came to her rescue. “Alexander, I hope you will come to understand that my sisters and I are like-minded in that we feel women are vastly undervalued in London society.”

  Mr. Yarnsby slid a look to Vivian. “I am in complete agreement. However, it is also true that without a male champion, it is impossible for a woman to thrive in high society. It is unfortunate but true.”

  “I agree with Mr. Yarnsby. I give my girls as much freedom as possible, but at times they push the boundaries of polite society. Not to say they are in any way doing something that would ruin them. My wife and daughters have always had a soft heart for the poor and elderly,” her wonderful father pointed out.

  “Oh goodness,” Lady Barrow added. “Since very young, all three have expressed a rather fervent need to learn and study as well. I do say, that is what will make your girls wonderful wives to fortunate husbands.”

  Vivian hurried to Lady Barrow and kissed her cheek. “And you understand us, which is why we love you so very much.”

  “Play something for us, Lady Barrow,” her mother insisted, giving Vivian a pointed look.

  Sit down and do not make any more blunders tonight.

  * * *

  “I know, Mother, you do not have to lecture me. It was wrong of me to allow Mr. Yarnsby to annoy me so,” Vivian said as they rode back home after a wonderful evening.

  Her mother lifted a brow. “It was more than that. Mr. Yarnsby is a member of the family now. You must learn to get along with him. Honestly, Vivian, he is delightful. I do not know why he bothers you so.”

  “I do,” Penelope said. “Vivian has not admitted it yet, but she finds him appealing.”

  Vivian huffed. “What I find him is maddening. I do have a strong urge to stomp on his feet.”

  “Well, you will be spending time with him in the country. Do keep your ire in check,” her mother insisted.

  “Why would anyone wish to stand out in the cold and stare up into trees for birds?” Vivian complained. “If only I had caught Clara alone, I would have choked her.”

  Her mother giggled. “Duchess Torrington is a delight. I am sure you will enjoy her company. Not to mention that the handsome Mr. Yarnsby will be along. It will give you a chance to get to know him better.”

  “And yet another thing my family has gotten me into. Why would you suggest that he and I shop together?” Vivian asked her mother. “It only gives him more leave to interfere in my life. Already he has managed to ruin any chance of finding a suitor.”

  Penelope nudged her. “That is because he wishes to court you himself. I believe this trip to the country will be when he declares himself.”

  “I certainly hope so,” their mother added. “He would be a perfect husband for you, Vivian, being that he’s part of William and now Clara’s family.”

  Instead of replying, she sank back into the seat. There was no winning when it came to her mother and sister. Her father pretended to be asleep, although by the twitching of his lips, she knew better.

  “Alexander Yarnsby is unkind. I believe he enjoys the game of irritating me much more intriguing than the idea of courtship. I will end up all alone, old and withered, with Mary feeding me boiled mushy food, because of him.”

  Her mother shuddered. “You paint a horrible picture. I am sure it will not come to that. If Mr. Yarnsby does not make his intentions clear by the end of winter, your father will take matters in hand.”

  “What?” Her father forgot that he was pretending to asleep and frowned at his wife. “Whatever do you plan for me to do?”

  “You will find a suitable young man and ensure he marries Vivian.”

  Her father stared at Vivian for a long moment. “Vivian is much too pretty not to have a line of suitors around the estate. The reason she has not found a suitor is because the simpletons are intimidated by her beauty.”

  At his comment, both she and Penelope giggled while their mother shook her head. “Laugh if you must, but I am very serious. Albert, begin to study the men when you go to the gentlemen’s club.”

  The thought of their father bringing home suitors made Vivian sigh. Every business associate he’d ever brought home for dinner or tea had been a horrible bore. The last one had managed to belittle Clara while attempting to show his interest in her.

  She let out a long sigh. It was time to take matters in hand. First, she had to find a way to get rid of Mr. Yarnsby and his attempts to sabotage her chances to find a suitor.

  “Penelope, I think your earlier idea has merit,” Vivian said peering out into the dark London streets.

  Her sister’s face brightened. “How exciting.”

  “What are you two plotting?” their mother asked, her eyes narrowing.

  By the time her parents arrived at the country estate to celebrate the New Year, she hoped to be rid of the annoying Mr. Yarnsby.

  Chapter 4

  The exterior of the dress shop was nothing special. Unlike the neighboring shops, who did brisk holiday business, it was closed, the interior dark.

  During the holiday season was when seamstresses made most of their money. Of course, if these two expected a windfall, they probably did not deem it necessary to work.

  Through the window he saw several tailor’s dummies and bolts of fabric decoratively displayed. There were tables with sewing notions on them, as if someone had left in the middle of making something. He glanced at the etched glass on the door. Belle Monde Dressmakers filled it in curved artistic letters.

  If the two people who’d come to disrupt his father’s funeral were indeed his children, why had he not provided for them?

  So far they’d only approached one bank. Once the holidays were over and he could go to the bank, would he find out what proof they had to give them cause?

  He leaned back and looked up. Above the shop were apartments, and he wondered if perhaps the duo lived there. It would be folly to seek them out, especially without as much information as he needed.

  Just then a door opened, and a boy walked out. Hunched against the cold, the boy pulled his hat down over his ears and tugged at a dog on rope. “Hurry,” he urged the happy animal, who wagged its tail furiously and hopped up and down with excitement.

  The boy released the rope and watched the dog as it searched out the perfect spot to relieve itself.

  “May I ask,” Alex said, nearing. “What is your dog’s name?”

  The boy smiled up at him. “Spotty.”

  “It suits him,” Alex replied, studying the black and white dog. “Do you know the people that own this shop? I forgot to pick up a shirt and now it is closed.”

  The boy nodded, stepped on the rope to keep the excited dog from running off, and looked back to Alex. “Miss Bettina lives upstairs. But she’s not home. She went away with her brother for the holiday. I think they went to France.”

  “Is she kind?”

  The boy shrugged. “My mother says she’s unpleasant and thinks too highly of herself.”

  He was glad for children’s honesty. “Thank you,” Alex said, pulling a coin from
his pocket and handing it to the boy, whose eyes rounded at his good luck.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “It is fortunate you were not caught,” William said later that day when they met at the same coffee shop. “It could send the investigation backward.”

  He agreed. “I had to see it for myself. Once I leave London, there isn’t much to be done until I return.” Alex looked to his friend. “Which reminds me, I will need to use the townhouse.”

  “You do not have to ask,” William replied.

  He pushed back from the table. “I am off to see about the fetching Miss Vivian. We will shop for items necessary for birdwatching.”

  “What exactly is needed? Opera glasses and a warm clothing is what I would think,” William replied with a teasing smile. “I must tell you, Duchess Torrington is expecting that you will make your intentions toward Vivian known.”

  He was afraid of that. “I can’t possibly court someone right now.”

  “You will want to consider making choices about it. If you have no intentions, then you must be clear about it, and stop intimidating anyone that dares to show any interest in her.”

  With no good rebuttal, Alex nodded and got up. “I will see you at home this evening.”

  “Yes, I must take Ellington and Farnsworth out to exercise,” William said, standing as well. “The mongrels will only behave if properly tired out.” William’s hounds were named after tutors they’d had as youths. Hearing the names still made Alex smile.

  They went out. After dropping William off at the townhome, Alex directed the coachman to take him to the Humphries home.

  The door was opened by an austere butler, whose face softened at recognizing him. “Mr. Yarnsby, you are expected. Miss Vivian and her sister are in the parlor.”

  “Mr. Yarnsby, how delightful to see you,” Mrs. Humphries hurried to him just outside the parlor. “Thank you for taking on this task. I am in the dark about what is needed for such an outing.”

  Alex himself wasn’t quite sure what it was that they were to purchase. They had plenty of spyglasses at the country estate, and other than a warm cloak, he’d not noticed that Duchess Torrington carried anything else.

  They entered the parlor, where Vivian and Penelope were. Penelope, always vivacious, walked toward him. “It is the perfect day for an outing. I hope you don’t mind that I’ve invited myself along.”

  Alex was relieved. “On the contrary, I am glad for it.”

  “I must buy a new cloak—a warm one since the country is much colder than the city, I am sure,” Penelope quipped.

  Vivian gave her sister a puzzled look. “You never venture outside. I think the weather is the same whether in the city or out”

  The younger sister rolled her eyes. “Of course, I go outdoors. I simply adore walks.”

  With a soft tsk, Vivian met his gaze. “Mr. Yarnsby, thank you for offering to shop with us.”

  Had he offered? Alex was sure this was Duchess Torrington’s doing. As always, she wanted what she thought was best for him.

  Along with Vivian’s companion, Mary, they made their way to the Torrington carriage outside. The coachman gave him a puzzled look as he’d told the man he was to pick up only one lady and her companion.

  The coachman held the door open and ensured the ladies ascended in without mishap. Alex climbed in last and sat next to Vivian.

  Across from them, Penelope sat with Mary, a pretty woman of dark complexion who he guessed to be in her late twenties.

  “Where to?” Vivian asked with a daring expression. “Is there a bird-watching shop?” She placed a hand delicately on his forearm. “I do look forward to this expedition. I know it will be most enlightening.” When her fingers lingered, he looked down to his arm.

  “Yes, erm…” He had to clear his throat as a soft fragrance—jasmine, perhaps—tickled his nose. Had the inside of the carriage always been so narrow?

  “There is a shop my aunt suggested. We shall start there.”

  Her lips curved slowly, exposing a line of perfect teeth. She sighed and finally removed her hand. “Splendid.”

  Something was afoot. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. He was sure by the end of the excursion, it would be obvious what Miss Vivian was up to.

  Despite his lack of plan, the first shop they arrived at proved to be delightful. There were books with sketches of every imaginable bird that populated England. He purchased a rather intriguing guide to where one could find rare species. In addition to paintings of birds, a large collection of feathers filled one wall which kept Alex’s attention.

  The trio of women remained there for a long time, taking in every single item while he studied the offerings at the counter.

  “I am Douglas Clark, and I own this shop,” the shopkeeper introduced himself, his gaze on the women the entire time. “I find it quite interesting for so many women to be enamored with ornithology of late. Are you a birder yourself, sir?”

  Alex shook his head. “Not as much as I would like. My aunt, however, is an avid birdwatcher and is planning an excursion. The lady in the middle will be joining us.”

  At hearing their conversation, Vivian walked over to them. “May I ask, sir, what do you suggest I purchase for such expedition?”

  The man instantly came to life and stood taller, his narrow chest puffing out. “If you would look at these...” He motioned to the display of spyglasses. “I suggest a small light one for your delicate hands, miss.”

  By the time they’d emerged, even Penelope had purchased items. The shopkeeper’s cheeks were a light pink from all the attention, and Alex wondered how long before the man would stop beaming.

  The carriage swayed softly side to side as they traveled on the cobblestone roads to a haberdasher’s where the ladies would be able to find sturdy, warm cloaks.

  “Are you not enjoying yourself?” Vivian asked once again, leaning close. “I have to admit, meeting Mr. Clark made me excited to bird-watch. He is most passionate about it.”

  Alex looked across to the other women, but they were discussing the first shop, not paying them much mind.

  "I hope you will help me choose the perfect cloak, Mr. Yarnsby.”

  “Alex, please. And yes of course. It will be cold out.”

  Her eyelids lowered, and he was almost sure she looked to his lips. “Will you ensure I remain warm?”

  Something happened in his mouth, and he choked on his own saliva. It took several coughs before he could breathe normally. “Y-yes, of course.”

  Very slowly, her gaze lifted to meet his. “Good.”

  Never before had a single word brought on such a reaction. His body tightened, and to his dismay, his sex reacted in the most unfortunate manner.

  The woman had obviously not meant to be seductive, judging by the way she now peered out the window, remarking on the last time she’d visited a shop they drove past. Penelope added an anecdote about her tripping on her way out.

  The soft chuckles should have eased his discomfort. Unfortunately, Vivian’s throaty sounds caused the opposite reaction.

  Alex mentally calculated how long before they arrived, hoping to be in a better way and able to stand without bringing his predicament to the ladies’ attention.

  “I’ll require sturdy boots as well, don’t you think, Mr. Yarnsby?” Vivian lifted her foot. Her skirts slipped, and he caught a glimpse of her calf before she lowered it.

  He groaned and leaned forward.

  “Oh no,” Penelope exclaimed. “Are you unwell?”

  “No,” he replied with too much force. “I am thinking.”

  The women studied him, so he made a show of pretending to consider what Vivian had asked. If only he could remember what the question was.

  Vivian sighed. “Penelope, we should both purchase sturdy boots. If we are to venture about in the country, it is necessary.”

  “Yes,” Alex finally said, letting out a breath. Thinking of ugly, sturdy boots finally helped his arousal diminish.

  U
pon arriving at the haberdasher’s, he allowed the women to walk ahead of him, and he hesitated at the door. The coachman rubbed his hands together and peered at him. “If I may, sir, I will purchase myself a cup of hot wassail to warm up.” He pointed to a stand where an older couple stirred a pot over a small coal stove.

  “Of course. Get one for me as well.” Alex handed the man two coins, glad for the excuse to stay outside in the cooler air.

  Chapter 5

  Lark’s Song, William Torrington’s Country Estate, Berkhamsted, England

  Vivian adored the drastic change of life in the countryside. Restrictions for how one should go about daily life were so much more relaxed away from London. It also helped that other than the servants, it was only she, Penelope, and her companion Mary at Clara and William’s home.

  The parlor they were in was rustically decorated, with tartan upholstery on the chairs and deep green floor length curtains framing a pair of tall windows. She and Penelope had just finished playing cards and now sat in front of a cheery fire, reading. While Penelope read a novel, Vivian perused the bird book she’d acquired in London. Despite the vibrant images, her gaze kept moving away to the fire.

  Whatever was she going to do about Mr. Yarnsby? It was evident he was very much attracted to her. Despite her attempts at flirting, he’d not reciprocated. It was only because his breathing had become harsher and his eyes had darkened that she’d come to the conclusion he’d been aroused.

  “Did you know men’s nostrils flare when they find a woman attractive?” Penelope asked, watching her. “Their lips part, and they swallow visibly.”

  “What exactly are you reading?” Vivian reached for her sister’s book and read the cover. A Courtesan’s Guidebook by Lady Everly Greene.

  “Where did you find this?” Vivian’s eyes rounded. “Mother will kill you if she sees it.”

  Nipping the book back, Penelope gave her a bored look. “I found it in our house. It was hidden.”