A Perfect Plan

by Alyssa Drake

  “You forget she will soon be one of those mothers, Mason.” Mr. Allendale clinked his glass against Mr. Mason’s.

  “How true, Allendale. Would either of you want a wife in fifteen years? Elizabeth will be of age.” Mr. Mason’s teasing gaze darted between Benjamin and Thomas.

  “The way these two keep avoiding women, they might still be available.” Mr. Allendale slapped his hand against his knee, doubling over in laughter.

  Benjamin glared at his friends. “Just because you married right out of university, does not mean either one of us will get caught so easily.”

  Thomas nodded in agreement with his brother. “Do you think Mother will notice if I hide out here all night?”

  “Yes,” all three men responded in unison.

  “Alright, I will go make an appearance. However, I sincerely doubt I will receive any enjoyment from the endeavor.” He placed his half-empty glass on a silver tray centered on a small table to his right and rose with a heavy sigh.

  “Watch out for the Leveret sisters, they like to step on any available toe,” Benjamin warned Thomas with a wicked grin.

  “Damn,” Thomas grumbled and headed out the door in search of his mother and several minutes of torture on the dance floor.

  Benjamin watched his twin brother go. Easily interchangeable with the same dark hair and muscular features, Benjamin received the title and responsibility of the family name, but their father split their inheritance evenly, making both men very wealthy, desirable catches for the season’s greatest hunters. Not that this year would be any more eventful than the last.

  Each brother pronounced themselves a permanent bachelor and rake, much to the chagrin of their mother who tried, unsuccessfully, to interest them in the benefits of a satisfactory home life. They accepted her lectures as part of a mother’s duty and allowed her to maneuver them in front of various ladies of the ton, but they never courted any of the available beauties. Both men were happy to find pleasure in other pursuits.

  Although there would shortly come a point when Benjamin would need to marry, he mused sullenly, taking another sip of the amber liquid. His father’s will demanded a legitimate heir from Benjamin by the age of thirty or the estates would fall to his cousin, bypassing Thomas who never intended on marriage or children. Benjamin shook his head with a grimace, Thomas preferred poverty to the shackles of a wedding band. However, Benjamin refused to allow his mother to be evicted from her home.

  At twenty-eight, Benjamin was not considered an old man, yet he began to sense his own mortality might be sneaking up on him. He sat in the salon, remembering his childhood and the short amount of time he spent with his late father. The scent of wild grass tickled his nostrils as he recalled their early morning strolls around the grounds and the words of wisdom which flowed freely during those peaceful moments after daybreak.

  Idly observing his friends while they discussed politics, Benjamin pondered the benefits of marriage. Neither man seemed unhappy with his lot in life. In fact, Mason glowed every time he brought up the subject of his young daughter. Allendale loved his boys to a fault, turning a blind eye toward their rambunctious shenanigans. There were some positive aspects to the fairer sex; Benjamin half-smiled at the thought. This was the year to find a suitable wife, he decided with a nod and drained the contents of his glass in one swallow.

  Swift action was necessary. He must inform his mother of his intentions; her help would be invaluable. Standing, he dropped his glass on the table beside him with a definitive clunk.

  “I am going to find myself a wife.” Benjamin announced, surprised by the forcefulness of his voice. He nodded at each man, “Allendale. Mason.”

  “Westwood,” they replied, returning to their conversation with dual smirks.

  Sighing, Benjamin turned and left the room, pausing briefly in the darkened hallway. He inhaled slowly–one final breath of bachelorhood–and reentered the ballroom in search of his mother. He noticed with a grin that Thomas was dancing with Miss Violet Leveret who managed to step on Thomas’ boot at that precise instant. With his head bent to hide a widening smile, Benjamin stole past the unhappy couple toward the refreshment table where his mother stood conversing with Mr. Allendale’s wife.

  “Hello, Mother.” Benjamin bent to kiss her cheek.

  “Benjamin, it is a delight to see you again.” His mother returned his affection with an airy kiss. “I believe I have you to thank for convincing Thomas to come out of his hiding place.”

  Mrs. Allendale coughed to cover her chuckle. She took a sip of punch, her eyes still alight with amusement.

  “Mrs. Allendale.” Benjamin politely nodded, greeting his friend’s wife with a bow.

  “Lord Westwood,” replied Mrs. Allendale. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

  “The pleasure is mine.” He lifted her hand to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on the back of her hand.

  Lady Westwood smiled at her eldest son. “Did you enjoy your walk?”

  “Yes, however, it was much too short.”

  “I imagine the walk between the ballroom and the salon is a short one.” Her brown eyes twinkled.

  Benjamin raised his eyebrows. “Pardon me?”

  Lady Westwood turned toward Mrs. Allendale. “My boys are always surprised to learn I know exactly what they are doing.” She leaned forward to whisper, “I even know about their less than gentlemanly exploits.”

  Shocked, Benjamin stared from his mother to Mrs. Allendale and back again. “Mother, it is not proper for you to talk about such topics in front of mixed company.”

  “Mrs. Allendale, do you mind?” his mother asked Mrs. Allendale, winking audaciously.

  Mrs. Allendale cupped her hand around her mouth and whispered loudly, “Not in the least, Lady Westwood. I happen to know a few things myself.”

  “Mother, please stop this nonsense, or I will not tell you my good news.” Benjamin rolled his eyes at their foolishness.

  “What good news?” Lady Westwood forced the smile from her lips with a practiced sigh; only her eyes sparkled.

  Benjamin, choosing to indulge her playful nature, paused dramatically, glancing at Mrs. Allendale as though he were judging her trustworthiness. His gaze returned to his mother.

  “This is the year I get married.”

  His announcement stunned his mother, Mrs. Allendale, and apparently, a group of young ladies milling behind them, pretending not to eavesdrop. Their collective oohs did not escape Benjamin’s attention. He glared at the tittering group who moved subtly away, but not far enough to be out of earshot.

  “Wonderful.” his mother smiled, clearly delighted with the news. “Who is the young lady?”

  “I do not know,” he shrugged. “Someone… suitable.”

  “Well, of course.” His mother patted his arm. “I might have a few suggestions if that would help with your decision.”

  “Certainly. Thank you.”

  “There are the Leveret sisters, Miss Violet and Miss Victoria.” She gestured toward Thomas who twirled past them with a pained expression painted on his lips. Mrs. Allendale demurely covered a snicker with her gloved hand. Lady Westwood pressed her lips together, swallowing a giggle and continued speaking in an even tone. “There is also Miss Mary Bloomhaven; I am certain you remember her father.”

  Benjamin nodded as he listened, his eyes seeking out the ladies in the ballroom, mentally comparing them and creating inexcusable faults in each of them. Miss Violet Leveret–terrible dancer, one would always have sore feet. Miss Victoria Leveret–a worse dancer than her sister and spoke in annoying nasal tones. Miss Mary Bloomhaven–a brainless fluff, one could never hold a proper conversation with her. As the list continued, Benjamin mentally banished each one from his mind.

  “Miss Bloomhaven is engaged,” Mrs. Allendale leaned in to whisper, her voice barely audible.

  “I had not heard that yet.” Lady Westwood turned toward her friend, her eyebrows arched in surprise.

  “It was a rushed engagement, due t
o her condition,” Mrs. Allendale winked.

  Benjamin leaned in as well and lowered his voice. “Who is the lucky gentleman?”

  “Mr. Henry Martin. Although I am not sure the term lucky should apply to him, considering what Miss Bloomhaven’s brother has already done to him,” said Mrs. Allendale.

  “What did he do?”

  Mrs. Allendale shook her head and pressed a finger to her mouth. Her eyes darted to the side, indicating the group of hovering girls. “Lady Westwood, I apologize for interrupting you, please continue with your suggestions.”

  Lady Westwood inclined her head, accepting Mrs. Allendale’s apology. “Miss Sarah Varner, Miss Daphne Clemens, and Miss Alice Shirely.”

  A girl shrieked behind them, presumably Miss Alice Shirely. Benjamin stole a glance at her. Miss Shirely’s upswept blond hair reflected one of the more popular styles of the day. At least that is what Mrs. Allendale whispered in an approving voice. The pale lemon gown accentuated Miss Shirely’s beauty and figure. With the sizable dowry her father promised, society deemed her the most favorable catch of the season.

  “She will do.” Benjamin indicated Miss Shirely with a jerk of his head.

  “Perhaps you should dance with Miss Shirely to ascertain her demeanor before you propose marriage.” His mother placed a wise hand on his arm and squeezed gently.

  “Of course,” Benjamin nodded in agreement. “Please excuse me, Mrs. Allendale, Mother.”

  He skirted the edge of the dance floor, walking first toward the orchestra, then toward the open windows of the balcony. Stopping to speak with some acquaintances, he rounded the ballroom in a little under an hour. Benjamin felt Miss Shirely’s eyes track him during his lazy circle, watching her prey as he neared his extinction. He approached a small group of suitors at the center of which stood Miss Alice Shirely, looking every bit a flower among thorns. He brushed through the men who parted before his title.

  “Pardon me, Miss Shirely.” Benjamin bowed courteously. “May I escort you for the next waltz?”

  “I would be delighted, my Lord.” Miss Shirely’s demure voice fluttered in correlation with her eyelashes. She curtsied and raised her arm, offering a dainty wrist. Her dance card dangled from a yellow, velvet ribbon.

  “Thank you.” Benjamin scrawled his name on her card and dropped an elegant kiss on her gloved hand before releasing her wrist. “Until later, Miss Shirely.” He flashed a quick smile and retreated from the throng of admirers.

  Now, he only had one more obligation to fulfill tonight. With Mr. Edward Hastings’ unfortunate demise, a new duty rested on his shoulders. He was now the guardian of Miss Samantha Hastings, Edward’s little sister. Although a woman of her age hardly needed a guardian, chaperone would be a more appropriate word. Whatever the title may be, he now had the added responsibility of approving a husband for the lady—a task which placed him in direct control of her future. Not exactly a role he wanted to play. However, he just needed to marry her off to the first acceptable suitor, and he would be free of his promise.

  Still unmarried, he assumed Miss Hastings would be plain and willing to accept any man who proposed. Considering this was her first season, she would need guidance in that respect. Mrs. Hastings, Edward’s widow, would be able to assist with the husband-hunting process. He decided he would leave the matching to her, then after the pretense of a suitable waiting period, approve whichever man made it through the tedious courting process.

  Benjamin tried to remember the face of his best friend’s baby sister. Ten years ago, the last time he encountered Miss Hastings, she flew at him with a fencing foil clutched in her little hand. Her cherubic face screwed up with raw determination, she scowled at him as she swung at him from the landing of the Hastings’ country estate stairwell. Her verbal assault was almost as vicious. The corner of his mouth pulled at the memory; her brother must have been responsible for that display of unsuitable manners—a small girl equipped with plaits, a vulgar vocabulary, and a sharp sword. He chuckled softly, rubbing his left hand unconsciously. A tiny puckered scar still blemished his left hand.

  It seemed difficult to picture Miss Hastings as anything else but a scrawny, ill-mannered child. He assumed as an adult, she must resemble her brother—same chestnut hair, same blue eyes. Although decidedly more feminine; he corrected the image in his head. He would have no difficulty spotting her this evening. He only hoped she was unarmed.

  Chapter Three

  “We are already late.” Wilhelmina burst into Sam’s room without knocking.

  “I will be ready in one minute.” Sam clenched her teeth, sitting perfectly still as Nancy tugged unforgivingly on her curls.

  “Well, hurry up.” Wilhelmina paced the length of the room, her nervousness apparent.

  “I have finished, Mrs. Hastings.” Nancy pinned the last tress and stepped away from Sam to critique her work. With a satisfied nod, Nancy dashed to the armoire to grab Sam’s shoes and shoved them onto her feet, her nimble fingers quickly fastening them. “Will you need anything else?”

  “No, thank you,” Sam dismissed the maid with a grateful smile.

  “We are late,” Wilhelmina repeated her earlier sentiment, practically vibrating across the room as she paced behind Sam.

  Sam sighed reluctantly. “Wilhelmina, you stated, this very morning, nobody interesting arrives before eight.”

  “True, but I have never arrived before eight, so I may be wrong.”

  Fighting the urge to stick out her tongue, Sam rose, looping her arm through Wilhelmina’s. “Have I told you how lovely you look in blue?”

  Wilhelmina’s choice to shed the usual half-mourning colors of gray and lavender indicated her decision to remarry. A choice which clearly had Wilhelmina tied up in knots.

  “Thank you.” Wilhelmina patted Sam’s hand. “I am a little nervous.”

  “Why?” asked Sam. “It is perfectly acceptable to find a new husband after an adequate bereavement period.”

  “Yes, of course.” Wilhelmina wiped a tear from her eye. “However, I loved your brother very much.” She choked, pressing her hand to her mouth. Swallowing the sob, she raised her eyes to Sam. “Thank you for not thinking poorly of me for making this decision.”

  Sam managed a half-smile. “The two of you were a perfect match; I was very happy for you both.” She paused. “However, you cannot remain married to a ghost, and those three, sweet,"—Wilhelmina smirked at Sam’s description of her daughters—“rambunctious, little girls need a father.”

  Wilhelmina nodded and stared down in silence, her fingers plucking at the pattern on Sam’s quilt. Smoothing out a wrinkle, she glanced up at Sam with moist eyes. “I am lonely, Samantha, and I know not to hope for a love match, but at least some amiable companionship would be nice.”

  Sam placed a stilling hand on her sister-in-law’s fingers. “I wish you everything you desire.”

  “I appreciate your kindness; however, the task of finding a second husband may prove too difficult. I am just so old.” Wilhelmina sniffed and pulled a hidden handkerchief from her sleeve, dabbing at her eyes. Even in emotional turmoil, Wilhelmina remained the picture of gentility.

  “So am I.” Sam’s outburst, colored by her aggravation, caused Wilhelmina’s mouth to pop open in shock.

  “Oh, Samantha, I am sorry.” She hugged Sam quickly. “I did not mean to imply you were old as well. It is just that I…” She gestured to herself with the handkerchief and glanced away. Inhaling deeply, she discreetly brushed away a tear, then returned her gaze to Sam. Her eyes glazed over with practiced indifference. “A widow with three children will hardly be able to compete with this season’s first blush.”

  Sam took both of Wilhelmina’s hands. “You are more beautiful and more intelligent than any of those silly girls.”

  “Thank you, Samantha.”

  “Besides you are not that much older than I.”

  Wilhelmina laughed and rose, moving in front of the mirror to check her hair. Strands of pearls, woven through Wil
helmina’s dark hair, glinted softly in the light, the perfect complement to the muted hue of the dress.

  “It is hard to imagine a love match the second time. Most people only get one chance.”

  Sam grimaced, muttering at the floor. “Some people get no chance at all.”

  “Samantha, you are mumbling again.” Wilhelmina’s eyes flicked to Sam, arching an eyebrow.

  “I am certain you will have a second chance,” said Sam. She rose from the bed and turned away under the pretense of smoothing her dress. Wilhelmina’s soft hands closed around Sam’s arms, squeezing.

  “You will have your chance too, Samantha,” Wilhelmina spoke to Sam’s back. “I know Edward kept you from society, but I am here to help you.”

  Sam spun, swallowing the lump rising in her throat. No society gentleman would marry a country girl like her, especially with her opinionated, headstrong, stubborn… She shook her head to quiet the criticizing voice… and lied.

  “I am not interested in marrying a pretentious brute.” Sam held up her hand. “No, Wilhelmina. I am here solely as your friend and chaperone.”

  Nancy knocked lightly on the door frame, her blank face gave no indication she had overheard the conversation. “The carriage is ready, Mrs. Hastings.”

  Ten minutes later, Sam and Wilhelmina bounced along the road toward the Allendale residence. Sam perched uncomfortably on the seat, her body half twisted as she stared out the window at the darkened streets. Wilhelmina, to her credit, did not correct Sam’s unladylike behavior. Instead, she sat stoically, her hands folded primly in her lap, a handkerchief woven through her fingers.

  Sam supposed Wilhelmina’s silence was due to anxiety over her decision to remarry. What would life be like for her nieces with a new father? Would he dote on them? Play with them? Or would he ignore them and treat them as an obligation? Sam’s eyes slid to Wilhelmina. Perhaps Sam could have a private conversation with her new brother-in-law regarding his nieces, one that involved threatening bodily harm. A grin twitched over Sam’s lips.