The Spinster's Guild : A Sweet Regency Romance Boxset

by Rose Pearson

  Nathaniel knew there was no way out and that he had to answer quickly, not wanting to appear rude. “I would be glad to, Lady Smithton,” he said, presenting as much of a joyous demeanor as he could. “Miss Bavidge, if you would be willing, I would be glad to sit with you when the music begins.”

  Miss Bavidge stammered something and dropped her head.

  “Perfect,” Lady Smithton said, clapping her hands and startling both Nathaniel and Miss Bavidge, who looked up sharply. “Now, if you might allow me to leave you for a moment, I have just seen Lady Parrington, whom I simply must speak to.”

  Before Nathaniel could protest, before he could say another word, both Lady Smithton and Lady Marne had gone, leaving him standing beside Miss Bavidge without a single idea of what to say. The last time he had seen her, he had behaved rather poorly and then, upon realizing it, had done nothing to rectify nor even apologize for his past behavior. Instead, he had acted awkwardly and left her without any explanation, which brought a good deal of embarrassment to him when he recalled it. Apparently, Miss Bavidge felt the awkwardness between them also, for her head was a little lowered and her eyes sweeping the floor. There was nothing said by either of them for some minutes, making the tension heighten all the more.

  “It seems we are to be thrown together, Miss Bavidge,” Nathaniel said, eventually, his voice a little dry. “If you do not wish to, however, you need only say, and I shall be glad to find someone else to stand in my place.”

  Miss Bavidge looked up sharply. “Even if it is Lord Rochester?”

  Nathaniel closed his eyes for a moment, the urge to tell her everything rushing over him only for him to recall that he could not. “I… I apologize for my previous behavior, Miss Bavidge. It must have appeared most strange to you, and there is very little explanation I can give.”

  “Other than the fact you believe Lord Rochester is not a gentleman I should draw near to,” she finished, still holding him with her gaze. “Although you have not stated why. I would ask that you share such reasons with me now, Lord Morton.”

  Shaking his head, Nathaniel raked his hand through his hair before he had even realized what he was doing. Dropping his arm, he tried to find something to say, some words to make an explanation, but none came to him.

  “You are most exasperating, Lord Morton!” Miss Bavidge exclaimed with a good deal more alacrity than he had thought possible from someone such as she. “You behave in such a curious fashion that I do not think I should ever be able to understand you, not even if I should become well acquainted with you.” She sighed heavily and tossed her head, clearly irritated with him, but, much to his surprise, Nathaniel found her suddenly quite captivating. It was a sensation that he had not expected and, as she returned her gaze to him again, Nathaniel felt a stone drop into his stomach, his breath hitching and his mouth going dry.

  Miss Bavidge, he had considered, was not a beauty by any standard although he had thought her reasonably pretty. However, now that she held his gaze, Nathaniel felt as if he were seeing her for the first time. The way her blue eyes sparkled with irritation, the way her lips were pressed hard together, her cheeks rather red, as they were accustomed to do whenever she was embarrassed or frustrated, filled him with an awareness of her that swept all through him. A voice in his head told him to say something, to speak to Miss Bavidge about anything he could think of, but his voice simply would not co-operate.

  Thankfully, he was saved from further embarrassment by the sound of the musicians beginning to tune their instruments, which caught Miss Bavidge’s attention. Turning her head, she looked towards the other side of the room where footmen were just finishing setting out chairs for the guests, ready for them to seat themselves so that they might join the performance.

  “Shall we sit down?” Nathaniel managed to say, his throat tight with the emotions that were rushing all through him. “It looks as though the first part of this evening’s entertainment is to begin.”

  Miss Bavidge turned back to him, her eyes filled with a frustration that Nathaniel wished he could remove.

  “Yes, I suppose we should,” she agreed, her voice a little quieter than before. “But we have some minutes yet with which we might continue our conversation.” One eyebrow lifted in silent challenge, but Nathaniel merely shook his head, angered with his own lack of willingness to tell her the truth for fear of what would follow. Was he being selfish by keeping the truth about Lord Rochester to himself? Could he not tell her some of Lord Rochester’s character without going into detail so that she would be made aware of the danger that came with being in that gentleman’s company?

  “Might I surmise, Lord Morton, that for some reason, you cannot speak of your reasons behind your desire for me to stay away from Lord Rochester?”

  Miss Bavidge was speaking quietly now, all sense of irritation gone from her. It was as if she were doing her level best to understand whilst still holding onto her determination to know what it was he was trying to say.

  “Indeed, Miss Bavidge,” Nathaniel replied, slowly, trying to work out what he could say and what he could not. “I was once friends with Lord Rochester, and I believe that his character has not changed since that time.” He recalled how Lord Rochester had, so often, chased after the young ladies that had caught his eye. There had never been the suggestion that Rochester wished to marry any of them, merely that he only wished for them to give him a taste of their affections—going as far as he could push them. Nathaniel had never liked such a characteristic in his friend but, having made his concerns known upon one occasion, had chosen not to say anything more, believing that Rochester knew all too well his thoughts on the matter. Perhaps that had been wrong of him.

  “I see,” Miss Bavidge replied, calmly, still looking him dead in the eye. “And might I ask why you are so eager to protect me from Lord Rochester, Lord Morton?” Her expression softened just a little as she glanced away for a moment, her color heightening all the more. “After all, even before we were introduced, I was aware of how you watched me, Lord Morton. I was not introduced to Lord Rochester then, so what could be the reason for such an interest?” The tone of her voice grew a little higher as she continued to look away from him, clearly embarrassed to be asking such a thing yet determined to hear the truth from him.

  Nathaniel wanted to sink into the ground. He had not expected Miss Bavidge to be so direct, and certainly had not thought she would be asking so many questions of him! Her demands to know the answers send him spiraling back in surprise, his mind searching for responses that he did not have. Miss Bavidge appeared to be almost fierce in her determinations, and he had not seen such a resoluteness before. Had it come from her struggles against the whispers of the beau monde? Or was it her new friendship with Lady Smithton that encouraged her so?

  “You have not yet answered, Lord Morton, and I find that I am growing agitated waiting for you to do so,” Miss Bavidge murmured, taking a small step closer to him. “Why must you be so mysterious?”

  Nathaniel caught his breath as another flurry of sensations ran over him. Miss Bavidge was standing nearer to him now, and that small act of taking one small step closer to him had sent his heart bouncing about his chest without any explanation as to why. It was most extraordinary.

  “I do not mean to be mysterious,” he managed to say, aware of how his voice rasped with suppressed emotion. “I do apologize, Miss Bavidge, but I—”

  “My dear friends, if you will come to take your seats, the first musical performance of the evening is about to take place.”

  Closing his eyes tightly against the wave of exasperation that crashed over him at the sound of Lord Marne’s voice, Nathaniel let out his breath slowly before opening his eyes again. Miss Bavidge was not looking irritated, as he had supposed, but rather quite disappointed. Her shoulders slumped, her face turned away as her eyes remained downcast—and Nathaniel felt his heart slam back into place with a sudden, desperate urge.

  “Might I call upon you, Miss Bavidge?”

/>   The words had ripped from his mouth before he could prevent them, surprising both himself and Miss Bavidge, who looked at him sharply, her breath catching in an audible gasp.

  “Perhaps tomorrow,” he stumbled on, not quite certain what he was doing but knowing that, deep in his heart, he did not wish to continue playing this strange game with her. “Or the day after that,” he finished, with a tight smile. “Although, if you do not wish to then I—”

  “Tomorrow would suit me very well, Lord Morton.” Miss Bavidge’s expression remained one of astonishment, but she spoke clearly enough. “I thank you. That is a kind offer, and I look forward to speaking with you further. I am engaged to call upon Lady Smithton as my aunt is indisposed tomorrow afternoon, but I know Lady Smithton would be more than glad to have you call on me there.” Her smile began to spread across her face, her eyes lowering demurely. “We should sit down,” she said, walking away from him with short, hasty steps.

  Nathaniel followed after her numbly, not quite certain what he had done. The awareness that he had asked to call upon Miss Bavidge began to roll about his mind, sending a prickle of uneasiness up his spine. What was it he intended to do by calling on her? Had it merely been a reaction to her pressing questions, a way to escape having to answer her? Or was it that, deep within his heart, there was something more to what he felt and thought of Miss Bavidge? Yes, he had been watching her since her return to London, and yes, he did feel some protectiveness over her as well as guilt over the part he had played in her difficulties, but to have any sort of attraction towards the lady was not something he had ever expected.

  But still, despite knowing that he ought to remove himself from Miss Bavidge’s side as best he could, Nathaniel found himself feeling a little pleased that Miss Bavidge had accepted his request. He had no thought as to what he would say to her tomorrow for, of course, the questions were certain to return, but he would allow himself to worry about such a thing when the time came. For the present, he was simply going to enjoy the rest of the evening as he continued to sit with Miss Bavidge. He would allow every emotion, every hint of feeling, to wash over him and thereafter linger in his heart, should it wish to do so. Once he was alone, once he had time to think, then he might reflect on what it was that his heart was beginning to feel for the determined and astute Miss Bavidge.

  Chapter Eight

  “And you say he is to call upon you later this afternoon?”

  Emma smiled and nodded, all too aware of how her cheeks were beginning to warm at the mention of Lord Morton. The flaring of her cheeks was often something that occurred, she knew, for it happened whenever she was angry, frustrated, or a little embarrassed. It also seemed to occur whenever she caught sight of or even mentioned Lord Morton, which was most peculiar.

  “I think Lord Morton might turn out to be a very suitable gentleman,” Miss Crosby continued, throwing Emma a quick smile. “Does Lady Smithton approve of him?”

  “She does,” Emma replied quickly, although a slight stab of guilt entered her heart as she recalled how she had not spoken to Lady Smithton of her confusing conversations with Lord Morton as regarding Lord Rochester. She would have to do so, for she had promised to be honest with Lady Smithton so that the lady, in turn, could guide and help her. However, if Lord Morton continued to be as attentive as he had been last evening, aside from the strange conversation about Lord Rochester, then mayhap Emma would not have need of her assistance for much longer. The thought brought a flurry of excitement to Emma’s heart and she resisted the urge to fan her face with her hand, aware of just how rosy her cheeks must be.

  “And what of you?” she asked her friend, seeing Miss Crosby look away. “Have you made any progress?”

  Miss Crosby sighed heavily but kept her gaze away from Emma’s. “There is a slight… difficulty in my present circumstance,” she replied carefully. “I have told all to Lady Smithton, of course, and she is doing her level best to advise me.” She laughed softly, her eyes twinkling as the tension that had been in her frame only seconds ago began to fade. “And Lord Havisham has done a remarkable job of ensuring I am introduced to as many people as possible.”

  Emma laughed at this. “Lord Havisham attended a ball for your sake and then a musical soiree for mine,” she chuckled, recalling just how Lord Havisham had done his best for her also. “I am certain he shall be quite worn out very soon! Is he not to go to the theatre this evening with Lady Smithton and Lady Amelia?”

  “Indeed,” Miss Crosby replied, aware of how Lord Havisham had stifled a groan when Lady Smithton asked it of him. Lord Havisham had spoken of his lack of interest in the theatre on occasion before, including how he found the plays dull and the atmosphere stifling. He would not choose to go to it—but, again, he was willing to do so regardless.

  “I do not think he does it for our sake only, however,” Miss Crosby continued, observantly. “Lady Smithton is, I think, rather dear to him.”

  Nodding, Emma let her smile soften, wondering if she would ever have a gentleman considering her in the same way. “That is more than apparent, yes,” she agreed, quietly. “I do wonder why Lady Smithton does not accept his court.”

  Miss Crosby let out a soft chuckle. “I do believe that if you are an independent, wealthy young widow, then you have the freedom to do just as you please whenever you please,” she replied with a wry smile. “If I found myself in such a position, then I might enjoy my independence for a time also, even if someone such as Lord Havisham sought to court me!”

  Emma considered this for a few moments and was about to add her thoughts to their discussion, only to hear someone call her name. Much to her surprise, she turned her head and came to a stop, only to see none other than Lord Rochester approaching them, a broad smile on his face.

  “Did that gentleman just call to you from across the park?” Miss Crosby asked, speaking to her out of the corner of her mouth. “That is a little rude, is it not?”

  Biting her lip, Emma had no time to answer, for Lord Rochester had a long stride and was soon too close to them for her to reply to Miss Crosby. She did think that Lord Rochester was a little rude in the way he had called out to her but, then again, how else was he to garner her attention? Thankful that the park was not overly busy with patrons, Emma curtsied quickly as Lord Rochester inclined his head, her mind filled with warnings about Lord Rochester’s intentions.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Bavidge!” Lord Rochester exclaimed, loudly. “How wonderful that we should happen to meet on such a fine day as this!” His gaze drifted quickly towards Miss Crosby, and Emma quickly stammered an introduction, still not quite certain what it was that he intended by approaching her in such a fashion.

  “I am glad to make your acquaintance, Miss Crosby,” Lord Rochester said, with a broad smile that gave him the appearance of amiability. “I do hope you are enjoying the season thus far.”

  Miss Crosby said that yes, she was, and then suggested that the three of them walk for a time together so that they were not blocking the path for others and, much to Emma’s surprise, Lord Rochester agreed at once, obviously eager to spend a little more time with them.

  If only I knew the reasons as to why Lord Morton fears for me should I continue this acquaintance, she thought to herself, as Lord Rochester and Miss Crosby fell into easy conversation. Yes, Lord Morton had spoken of his concern over Lord Rochester’s character, but that did not give her any particular insight into what it was specifically that Lord Morton disliked. As far as she could see, Lord Rochester was a decent gentleman who did not shy away from her nor spread gossip about her once they had enjoyed a dance or a small conversation. She had not seen him rushing to his acquaintances to laugh and point in her direction, which surely spoke well of his character. Unless it was all a façade and she the unwitting fool.

  “You are quiet this afternoon, Miss Bavidge.”

  Jerking slightly in surprise, having been tugged from her thoughts so swiftly, Emma looked up to see Lord Rochester looking down at her with a
small smile on his face, his eyes twinkling. Despite herself, she blushed furiously and turned her head a little away from him, praying that he would not notice.

  “I… I was lost in thought, Lord Rochester,” she replied, honestly. “Forgive me.”

  Lord Rochester chuckled. “Not at all, Miss Bavidge,” he replied, as Miss Crosby came to fall into step beside her so that they walked three abreast along the wide path. “I find it quite pleasing that a young lady should be so caught up with her own thoughts that she has to be pulled from them. I consider it a mark of intelligence.” He gave her another broad smile, clearly trying to put her at ease. “Might I ask what you were thinking of?”

  Emma blinked rapidly, trying to find something to say which would answer his question but without revealing the truth. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, the palms of her hands growing hot and sweaty as she tried to find an answer.

  “But, then again, you will think me most rude to be asking such pressing questions,” Lord Rochester continued with a chuckle. “I do apologize, Miss Bavidge. You must be permitted to keep your thoughts to yourself without feeling any urgency to share them with the likes of me.”

  “I thank you,” Emma replied, weakly, not quite managing to force her lips into a smile. “You are most understanding, Lord Rochester.”

  He smiled at her again, his expression amiable enough, but still Emma could not let go of the warnings that continued to hurtle through her mind. For whatever reason, she found herself trusting Lord Morton more than she would Lord Rochester, which meant that she gave his words a good deal more weight than any Lord Rochester might speak.

  “Have you been enjoying the season thus far, Lord Rochester?” she asked, not quite certain whether or not such a question had already been asked or answered given that she had not been listening to Lord Rochester and Miss Crosby’s conversation. “I do hope that you—”