by Tarah Scott
“Sighing, Miss Glasbarr?” Mister Banbrook’s tone was still neutral, though no longer as cool.
Emilia put a hand to her mouth. To sigh was bad manners. In truth, she hadn’t needed finishing school to know that.
“I am not engaging you in proper conversation, I know,” Mister Banbrook continued. “Please forgive me.”
She dropped her hand. “Oh, no, the error is mine. I am meant to begin conversation, I believe. On the weather, or perhaps the classics. Being a bit overwhelmed by the display before me, I forgot.”
“The display?” He turned his head, and took in the other carriages. “Edinburgh needs a larger park.”
“I think the park is lovely.” Did he think his English cities so much grander? “Not every place is London, or wants to be.” Her hand went back to her mouth as her aggrieved tone reached her ears. She needed to learn to shut her mouth and keep it closed.
Mister Banbrook looked at her askance. “Which is fortunate. The world would be a boring place were every city the same.”
Emilia nodded, not trusting herself to speak. They rode on in silence. Her mood well dampened once more, she cast about for a safe topic.
“You meant the other ladies, I take it?” Mister Banbrook said. “Your sigh was of the envious sort?”
So, he’d noticed her unmodish attire. Not surprising, since there was no hiding her drab garb. Emilia shrugged. “They look awfully fine, but my sigh wasn’t envy. More, well, despair. How can I attract a husband, any husband, with such a display? No man will notice me.”
“If you look about you, I think you’ll find many men noticing you.”
“They’re noticing you, Mister Banbrook, and your curricle and team. If they look at me, they glance only to wonder why you would possibly keep company with someone so shabby.”
“If any suggest as much, I’ll put them in their place,” he replied.
Emilia felt a blush threaten, for his words seemed oddly sincere.
“You’re the most beguiling creature in this park,” he continued. “Men don’t care about bonnets heaped with bows and lace, or dresses trimmed out in the latest fashion. We often don’t even notice such things. Or the lack of jewelry.”
Her hand went to her throat again. Did he know Viscount Dunreid had given her a necklace? Was that why he was cool, why he kept looking at her neck? But so few people knew. He wouldn’t have learned such a detail from the viscount.
No, if Mister Banbrook knew, the knowledge could only have come from the viscountess. So, he was keeping company with Lady Cinthia. Emilia suppressed another sigh. The thought was like someone draping her in a sopping wet cloak. The knowledge stole all potential joy from the day.
High above, a fluffy cloud slid across the sun. Emilia squinted heavenward, finding the sudden dimness fit her mood. Across the open expanse they rode, she could see sunshine in other areas of the park. The light made the ladies’ jewels sparkle.
“Now you truly are letting the conversation lapse, Miss Glasbarr,” Mister Banbrook said. He watched her from the corner of his eye. “I mentioned your lack of jewelry.”
“I own no jewelry, Mister Banbrook. Though I can’t think my lack of adornment a fitting topic to discuss after so short an acquaintance, I will say that if anyone observed I do not wear, say, a necklace, and attempted to rectify the absence, I would certainly return such an item.” She sought to press the disappointment of his involvement with Lady Cinthia from her mind so she could glean why he was so dogged about the pendant.
“Would you, now?”
“I would,” she said firmly. He must wish to know if he was wasting his time, she concluded. If she had accepted a present from Dunreid, Mister Banbrook had no reason to help her. “To keep such a gift, let alone wear it, would be tantamount to accepting a proposal from a gentleman. I would no’ do so lightly.”
“Even if the object in question was quite valuable? Something you could sell at a later date?”
“Especially then,” she said, a touch exasperated. Must the English always be so convoluted?
“That’s good to know, and I apologize for my unfitting topic.”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Mister Banbrook was so very English. Couched in impeccable manners, they did as they pleased, then apologized with the same stiff aplomb. A Scot would have asked if she’d accepted the gift, taken her no as a yes, and gone off to challenge Viscount Dunreid.
Some of her exasperation fled. No, not challenge him, for Mister Banbrook was not her suitor. He was only there to find her one.
Chapter Eight
ROBERT COULDN’T SHAKE HIS dark mood. He was being a poor companion, but how could he be otherwise? The knowledge of Dunreid’s gift to Miss Glasbarr, and seeing the way she ogled his expensive curricle, had put him in a terrible frame of mind. He’d thought her better, that she would not be so easily swayed by a show of wealth.
Then, they’d reached the park and he could read her envy. She wished for gowns, hats and jewels, just as any other young Miss did. Her sigh belied her talk of art and music. Her avarice soured him. She wasn’t the woman he’d thought.
She spoke not of envy, but of fear she fell short compared to the ladies about them, but that was absurd. Surely, closeted in a school of young women, she had ample opportunity to compare herself and realize her beauty. Dressed to the height of fashion or in a secondhand frock, not a one of them could equal Miss Glasbarr. For her to be unaware of that was impossible.
Robert worked to ease the tension in his jaw. She also denied keeping Dunreid’s present, more a payment for future sins than a gift, as she must know. Could he believe her? He would not see another woman plucked from him by Dunreid.
He flicked the reins to increase their pace.
Plucked not from him. From his care. He wasn’t courting her, he was her chaperone. Why had he permitted Stirling to talk him into such a ridiculous task? Robert knew nothing about finding a match for a young woman. He couldn’t even find a match for himself.
“You wish to take the turn at a faster pace?” Miss Glasbarr asked. “I feel that’s contrary to what most do.”
On top of fortune hunting, she would criticize how he handled his team? “Would you care to drive?”
She turned wide eyes on him, bright with surprise and…eagerness? “You would permit me? Only, they’re such a fine team. I’ve never had the opportunity to handle Cleveland Bays.”
By God, she did wish to drive. Eyebrows raised, he proffered the reins. Hopefully, doing so wasn’t the most foolish decision of his life.
Her happy smile as she accepted the reins was an instant reward, and sapped some of his ire. Her hazel eyes, which reflected the colors of park and sky, were utterly guileless. Hands sure, she guided his bays. In moments, he garnered her competence.
Free of the duty of manning his spirited team, he studied the young woman beside him. Golden curls bounced in concert with the movement of the curricle. Straight backed, she perched on the edge of the seat, excitement at being permitted to drive clear, though she kept her hands soft on the reins. She looked like a child who’d just been handed a longed-for kitten. Eager, but gentle.
Robert rubbed the back of his neck, in attempt to ease the tension there. He was being a fool. He’d let Cinthia and her wiles snake into his thoughts and make him see treachery and avarice where none existed. Miss Glasbarr, in her obviously second-hand gown, stitched over to resemble city fashion, was quite young. He knew enough about women and their insecurities to believe she feared being overlooked.
Rather than dwell in that dark place where Cinthia’s conniving heart lived, he should attempt to improve Miss Glasbarr’s confidence. Convince her that she would never be out shown. Only a fool wouldn’t recognize her sweetness and beauty. Of course, most young men qualified as fools.
Reminded of his duty, Robert looked about him at the other gentlemen in the park. Quite a few eyed Miss Glasbarr in appreciation, while others were obviously incredulous to see her with the reins.
A glance showed her oblivious. Expression cheerful, she guided his team along the park avenues nearly as well as he would.
“There’s Mister Campbell,” Robert said. “You danced with him. Perhaps we should say hello?”
Miss Glasbarr turned her head toward Campbell and frowned. Robert wondered if she wasn’t as sure with his team as she seemed. To bring the bays around and then merge back into the parade, coming up alongside Campbell’s gilded cabriolet, would be tricky.
“I think I should rather keep going the way we are,” she said. “Would that be ungrateful of me, after you went to the trouble of introducing us?”
“I can bring the curricle around, if that’s your worry,” Robert offered.
She shot him a surprised look. “Oh, no, that isn’t the trouble. It’s his horse.”
“You don’t care for him?” She definitely hadn’t ogled his team if she couldn’t see how fine Campbell’s horseflesh was.
“He’s splendid, but a Thoroughbred stallion hitched to a cabriolet for a ride in the park? That’s criminal. That horse was born to race and jump. I can’t possibly become engaged to a man who would hook him to a glorified, gold-encrusted cart.”
Robert laughed. She cast him a wide-eyed glance. Her cheeks reddened, but still he laughed. She was so clearly offended. Twin lines appeared on her brow. Her outrage was adorable. His desire to contain his amusement was difficult as her words mirrored his opinion.
“It isnae funny,” Miss Glasbarr said. “If he could handle the creature, hooking that stallion to a cart might be somewhat excused, but he’s obviously a danger to everyone around him.”
Robert laughed harder. Tears blurred his vision. He was aware of scandalized looks from anyone near enough to hear, but he couldn’t stop. How long since he’d laughed? Barring the occasional chuckle, years, he was certain.
“I’m glad you find the impending rampage of a Thoroughbred through Edinburgh’s gentry amusing.” Her tone was light. She offered him a tentative smile.
Robert replied with one of his own, still chuckling. “Drive on then, dear lady, and we’ll see if we meet a gentleman whose team, gig and skills meet with your approval.”
“Very well, then.” She flicked the reins lightly. His bays picked up their pace.
The remainder of their afternoon proceeded in a more cheerful vein. Robert found the country-bred Miss Glasbarr did know her horseflesh, and was more than willing to discuss the teams of their peers. First, she offered the information that her etiquette instructor had forbade them from conversing on such topics with gentlemen unless greatly pressed, but Robert brushed that aside. He was enjoying himself too much to worry over silly proprieties.
When he retook the reins to drive them to Lady Peddington’s, Robert was surprised to realize how low the sun was. He brought his somewhat spent team to a halt before the elegant stone school for young ladies, but didn’t move to assist Miss Glasbarr down. He was aware of her expectant eyes on him. He had too fine an afternoon to permit the ride to end.
“Well, Miss Glasbarr, did you discover the gentleman of your dreams this in the park today?” He kept his tone light, though a heaviness settled on him as he awaited her reply. None of the men they’d spoken with were worthy of her.
She turned her face toward the glove encased hands in her lap. “I’m not certain.” A blush brightened her cheeks.
Though her reply meant he had failed in his duty to her, the heaviness left him. He didn’t want to see her settle for an unworthy gentleman. Cheerful again, he secured the reins and vaulted down, then went around to offer his hand.
Blue-green eyes gazed down at him from a still-blushing face. Robert held out his hand. One hand gathering her skirt, Miss Glasbarr placed the other in his. Even in gloves, they were fine, delicate fingers. He would be very careful who he gave them over to, assuming he could find a single man in Edinburgh worthy.
“Thank you for a wonderful afternoon, Mister Banbrook.”
“You are most welcome,” he said, and helped her down.
She didn’t turn away when she reached the street. Her hand tightened on his. “I will see you again?”
“At the next ball,” he agreed.
Miss Glasbarr offered a pretty smile. “Thank you.” She slipped her hand free.
He closed his fingers over the warmth left by her hand and watched her walk away. Both hands holding up her skirt ever so slightly, she gracefully ascended the steps. The door to the school opened. She looked back, still smiling, and disappeared inside.
Robert let out a slow breath. Finding a gentleman was a more formidable task than he’d excepted. The city was awash in fools, cowards and scoundrels. Not a single gentleman held the proper mix of intelligence, kindness and liveliness for Miss Glasbarr.
Trying to shake off the disquiet that settled in her absence, Robert climbed back into his curricle and took himself to his club. As the place refused to soothe him, he stayed only for a meal, forgoing his usual scotch. Soon enough, he was in his curricle again. As he maneuvered his team through streets crowded by evening festivity seekers, he turned his thoughts to his day in the park, and his beguiling companion, and finally achieved a semblance of peace.
Upon his arrival at his townhouse, he left curricle and team with his servants, then jogged up the steps. As usual, the door opened before he reached the top step. Unlike usual, his butler wore a worried frown.
“Sir.”
“What’s the trouble, Edwards?” Robert asked as he stripped off hat and gloves.
“I’m not certain there is trouble, sir.”
“Yes, you are, or you wouldn’t wear that dour expression.” Whatever the problem, Robert was resolved to deal with the issue quickly. He would not return to his earlier dark mood. To fend off his malaise, he conjured the memory of Emilia as she accepted the reins.
“A lady arrived while you were out. She insisted she be allowed in. Once inside, she ignored all protests and entered your private chambers, sir. We haven’t been able to draw her out.” Edwards’s features pulled down in mingled disapproval and worry. “We weren’t sure how firm to be, sir. She insists she’s expected and welcome, and has been making demands on the staff.”
Anger hardened in Robert’s chest and robbed him of his brief joy. “A lady? I assume you mean Cinthia.”
“I do, sir. Viscountess Dunreid, sir,” Edwards said, in a not too subtle reminder of Cinthia’s status. “I do not mean to intrude, sir, but is she expected and welcome?”
There was no mistaking the despair in his butler’s tone. The question would be impertinent, if the entire staff hadn’t been uprooted and dragged to Edinburgh in Robert’s pursuit of Cinthia, then forced to endure months of him bring misery on himself. He could only imagine how distressed the household was to have her there.
“She is neither expected nor welcome,” Robert said. “I will take care of this, and you have my future permission to bar her from the premises.”
“Thank you, sir.” Edwards almost smiled. “Shall I have a carriage brought to take the lady home? She arrived in a hired hackney.”
“Yes, immediately.”
Robert turned and took the steps two at a time. What was she thinking, coming alone to his home? Going to his rooms? Had she lost her wits? He didn’t bother to tame his angry stride, dissatisfied that the thick carpet muted his footfalls. Not slowing when he reached his chamber door, he flung it open and strode inside.
He stopped. Candles filled the room with wavering light. A heavy scent wafted through the shadows, a nearly visible miasma of honey-laden tendrils. Reclined in the middle of his bed, atop the bedclothes, clad in a confection of silk and lace that displayed more than concealed, lay Cinthia, a book in hand.
Eyes round with surprise dropped closed. They opened on a seductive look. A smile curled her lips. “Robert. I didn’t expect you so soon.” She closed the book and dropped it over the side of the bed to land on the carpet with a soft thud. “But I’m pleased you’re here.”
“Wh
at the devil are you doing in my bed, Cinthia?” He locked his gaze on her face. Damn, if he would satisfy her with even a glance south of her chin.
She stretched, her smile widening. “Waiting for you.”
“Get out.”
A startled jerk of her head turned into a shrug. Her coy expression wavered. “I know you don’t mean that, Robert.”
“On the contrary, I very much do.” He had to grit the words out through clenched teeth. “I want you dressed and out of my bed.”
“Oh? Want to remove my clothes yourself?” She came up on her knees in the middle of his mattress, silk and lace a puddle around her. “I’m still wearing enough for you to have the pleasure.”
Robert closed his eyes. His pulse pounded. His whole body leaned toward the siren on his bed. His body, but not his mind, and never again his heart. “I won’t do it, Cinthia. You’re Dunreid’s now.”
“Am I?” The harsh edge to her tone brought his eyes open. “I’m a piece of property, then? A man’s possession? No longer my own?”
“That’s not what I mean.” His words came out too soft. She was so beautiful in the candlelight. How many years had he waited to have her? “You’re his wife.”
“Yet, he can take his pleasure where he will.” She brought her hands to the coverlet and crawled toward him across the bed, eyes on his. “Why can’t I? Why can’t we, Robert?”
He couldn’t help but watch the way she moved. Why couldn’t they? He shook his head to clear the spell she wove. “Maybe that’s how you and Dunreid want to live, but I don’t.”
“You mean me to believe that once you wed, you’ll never stray?” Her silken voice was soft again, teasing. She reached the edge of the bed and rose to her knees. “Not even a little?”
“I will wed for love, and I will never stray.” He could barely make out his own words.
She opened her arms wide. Pale-blonde hair cascaded down her back. “I’m offering you everything you always wanted. What we always wanted.”
