She glanced up at him in dismay, not because of his question but because it had not occurred to her until now that she’d never shared this hobby of hers with Robert. “No.” What else could she possibly say?
“So then this preconceived notion of yours is entirely based on what you’ve seen other married ladies of the ton do.” His hand fell away from her elbow and he drew to a halt. She stopped as well and turned to face him. “Why must you share the same mold as them? Why can’t you be different?”
Bethany snorted. “Because that is not what most gentlemen want in a wife, Mr. Townsbridge. They wish for the woman they marry to conform to certain rules, not to challenge them or possibly even break them.”
“If it were me, I’d prefer originality, and I certainly would not want the lady I marry to conceal herself behind a mask of conventionality.” He looked at her directly, his eyes holding hers until she was tempted to avert her gaze. Instead, she boldly looked back, allowing his dark eyes to hold her captive. “I’m sure Robert shares this opinion and that he’ll support your dreams if you tell him about them. He’s a good man, my lady. I urge you to be open and honest with him, for both your sakes.”
As if summoned by their conversation, Robert came to join them. He smiled at Bethany. “I trust my friend here has kept you entertained during my absence?”
“Indeed, he has provided me with excellent company and conversation,” Bethany told him.
“And as enjoyable as it has been, I fear I must now depart,” Mr. Townsbridge said. He gave his attention to Robert. “Athena’s birthday is coming up, and I’ve yet to buy her a present, but if you’ll be at White’s tonight, perhaps I’ll see you there?”
“Definitely.” Robert shook his friend’s hand.
Mr. Townsbridge turned to Bethany, touched the brim of his hat while effecting a brief bow. “It’s been a pleasure.” She barely managed to say, “Likewise,” before he was striding away.
“Who’s Athena?” she asked Robert once they were alone together.
“Charles’s youngest sister.” He chuckled and shook his head. “She’s quite the hoyden and more outspoken than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“I respect people who speak their minds. It takes tremendous courage.”
“Hmm...it can also lead to a heap of trouble. But I actually tend to agree.”
Encouraged by this statement, Bethany thought of what Mr. Townsbridge had told her and said, “There’s actually something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
A slight frown appeared on his brow. “What is it?”
Feeling her stomach draw tight as if cinched by a cord, Bethany took a deep breath. “Do you think you might be able to help me sell some architectural drawings I’ve made?”
His frown deepened. “Architectural drawings?”
“Yes. I’ve quite a few, though I’ll agree that some are better than others.”
“What an interesting hobby,” he murmured. “I dare say it’s rather unique. For a lady, that is. But to sell such pieces for the purpose of having them brought to life would be difficult if not impossible. You’d have to go up against men like John Nash and Robert Smirke, which simply isn’t feasible.”
“But if I show you my sketches, I’m sure you’ll agree that I’m able to match their skill.”
“Even so, being an architect is a full-time job. I don’t see when you will find the time for it when there will be children for you to raise and a home to manage.” He smiled at her as if he had the answer to all her problems – the sort of smile that proved he did not see her at all. “Besides, to let my wife work would be quite bad form. People would talk.”
“Of course. I should have considered that.”
The edge of his mouth lifted. “It’s easy to forget how judgmental Society can be. Making a wrong move is far too easy. I’m glad you mentioned this to me so I could warn you.” He offered his arm and she accepted. “From now on, however, I would suggest that you spend your time on something less likely to stir things up. Like playing the piano for instance.”
Bethany forced back a groan and let him escort her to her parents. Her life with Robert was apparently destined to be a typical Society marriage. It ought not surprise her. This was after all what she’d been raised to expect. But as the day wore on and she realized how much of herself she’d be forced to give up, she pictured Mr. Townsbridge’s face and couldn’t help asking herself if life with him might be better.
CHARLES STARED DOWN at the ivory colored wedding invitation embossed with Robert’s and Bethany’s names. While he’d met Robert frequently over the past three and a half weeks since the garden party, he’d managed to avoid Lady Bethany completely by staying home during the day and refraining from putting in an appearance at other social functions. His mother was, as expected, distraught by this deliberate absence of his since she’d hoped he’d find a lady to court this Season, but to chance meeting Lady Bethany again was simply too risky.
Especially since there could be no denying the fierce desire he felt for her. Not when the simplest touch of her hand on his arm caused a wave of heat to roll through him. Not when one glance at her lips made him desperate to know how she tasted. Not when his dreams were increasingly plagued by her presence. And not when those dreams left him aching with need when he woke.
A shudder went through him as he read the invitation again. It involved a house party at the Langdon estate near Swindon. Guests were asked to arrive on April thirtieth, two weeks before the wedding was set to take place.
Charles closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. He’d known it would come to this. Robert had mentioned it in passing, but to have it confirmed was something else. It brought his doubts and his fears, his inappropriate yearning for his friend’s fiancée, into very sharp focus. How was he supposed to spend two weeks in her company when no more than half an hour was enough to make him wish he’d met her first?
He scrubbed the palm of his hand across his jaw and prayed for strength and resilience. As hard as it would be, he’d have to suppress his feelings and get through the days ahead. Even if it killed him. Setting the invitation aside, he went to ask his brothers if they were up for a game of darts.
He found them both in the library.
“You never win,” James said when Charles asked about the game.
“I know,” Charles muttered, “but I enjoy the challenge of trying to beat you.” And the game would offer a welcome distraction, which was all he really cared about at the moment.
“Very well,” William said, “but if I win, I’ll expect you to introduce me to Mrs. Baker.”
Charles glanced up at the ceiling while considering the beautiful widow who’d recently let it be known she was seeking a protector. “I doubt you’ll be able to afford her.”
William responded with a quelling look. “Allow me to worry about that, dear brother. As it stands, I’d give my left foot just to learn what she has to offer.”
“Forget that,” James said. “You ought to be more concerned with what she’s expecting.”
Charles happened to agree. It wasn’t a secret that William was still a virgin, which meant he would lack the experience a woman of Mrs. Baker’s renown would likely demand in a lover. Still... “Perhaps I can make an agreement with her, just for one night, with no obligation for her to see you again after that.”
William made a face. He seemed to consider. “Fine,” he eventually muttered.
“And if I win,” James said slyly, “I want your portion of Cook’s éclairs for the next week.”
“You drive a hard bargain,” Charles said with a twist of his lips. “I’ll agree.”
James’s eyes widened, for he knew how fond Charles was of sweets, but he refrained from commenting, for which Charles was grateful. The last thing he wanted was for him or William to suspect things weren’t as they should be, because then they’d get curious and the questions would start, and if there was one thing that all his siblings had in common, it was the ability to inter
rogate each other successfully.
The game commenced on the terrace, and as usual, Charles failed to match the skill of his brothers. Still, he did enjoy the game, the camaraderie between them, the jokes they shared at each other’s expense, and the chance it gave him to forget. Until the butler arrived to announce that Robert had come to call.
Charles left his brothers to continue the game while he went to greet his friend.
“I need an urgent favor,” Robert said as soon as Charles entered the parlor where Robert waited. “Bethany has gotten it into her head that we’re meant to visit some Viking museum today, but I can’t for the life of me remember agreeing. So I made other plans, and now she’s in my carriage outside, and I’m not really sure what to do.”
Charles stared at Robert and then, because he could not help himself from saying the first thing that came to mind, he blurted, “You’re an idiot.”
Robert stared back at him. He winced slightly before admitting, “I think you might be right.”
A grin caught Charles’s lips and a jolt of laughter rushed from his throat. He shook his head. “Your best course of action is to cancel your plans and take your fiancée on the excursion she’s expecting you to accompany her on.”
“I rather thought I’d ask you to go in my stead.”
“What?”
“You’ve always liked museums more than I, and the two of you seem to get on well enough. I dare say it won’t be so bad.”
“Are you mad?” Charles asked. Surely Robert had taken a blow to his head since the last time they’d seen each other. “Lady Bethany is your fiancée, Robert. You are the one who ought to be spending time with her, romancing her, and getting to know her better.”
Robert gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “We have the rest of our lives for that. But my chance to invest in the businesses holding my interest and to acquire the land I want is a fleeting opportunity. My financial situation, while not exactly dire, isn’t the best.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea.” Charles knit his brow. “What happened?”
Robert shrugged. “I made some poor investments and lost a great deal of money. My parents don’t know, but it’s the reason why I went to New York, and it’s the reason why I’m now pursuing these other opportunities. Our livelihoods could very well depend on whether or not my negotiations meet with success, so please, take Lady Bethany on the outing and allow me to see to my other obligations.”
Charles pressed his lips together and crossed his arms. “I think that’s a lousy idea.”
Robert blew out a breath. “I need to finish up with these dealings before we leave London for the house party.” He gave Charles a pleading look. “I’ll never ask you for anything else ever again.”
Charles wasn’t sure he believed that, but to accept... He shook his head. “If you really can’t manage the outing today, then you ought to reschedule with Lady Bethany for tomorrow.”
“She’s supposed to meet with her seamstress tomorrow so that won’t work, and the day after that I’ve other appointments, and then we’re off to the house party.”
“Then perhaps when you return to London you could—”
“Why the reluctance to help me with this, Charles?” Robert stared at him with extreme disappointment. “You’re my friend, so I was sure I could count on your help, no matter what. I have to say that your unwillingness surprises me.” He studied Charles before adding, “It also makes me wonder about your reasoning.”
Charles’s heart jolted inside his chest. “Women like to be the center of their husband’s, or in this case, fiancé’s attention. I fear Lady Bethany won’t be pleased if I take your place.”
“I’ve explained the matter to her and she’s fine with it,” Robert insisted. “Now will you grant me this favor or shall I turn to Craven instead?”
Charles inhaled sharply. Robert clearly knew how to force his hand by suggesting his second cousin as an alternative. Charles had never liked the pompous dandy or the habit he had of speaking of women as if they were made for the sole purpose of pleasing men. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am desperate, Charles.”
Charles gritted his teeth and cursed Robert for mismanaging his schedule. “Fine. I shall escort her.” And suffer the torture he’d been trying to save himself from, if only to avoid telling Robert the truth.
Chapter Three
BETHANY WAS NOT THE least bit pleased with how her day was turning out. Since accepting Robert’s proposal, she’d suggested numerous ways for them to spend time together, but he invariably managed to avoid participation. Today was no different. He’d forgotten he had a meeting, or rather, he’d forgotten he’d agreed to accompany her and had instantly suggested asking Mr. Townsbridge if he could escort her instead.
Bethany’s pulse had leapt at the mention of the man whose mere presence was capable of tying her stomach in knots. Since the garden party, she’d unwittingly searched for him at every social event she’d attended. But he’d been absent, whether by necessity or by design, she had no idea. Either way, she’d been slightly relieved, for it had allowed her to focus more fully on Robert and the fact that she was engaged to marry him.
Her determination to make the match work had prompted her to write up a list of activities she believed would encourage them to engage with each other more and thus form a closer attachment. When she’d suggested the Viking museum to him once again just a few days ago, she’d been thrilled by his agreement to join her, only to be disappointed when he told her he wouldn’t be able to go with her after all.
Disgruntled by his apparent reluctance to spend time with her and make the necessary effort required for their relationship to work, she hadn’t bothered to argue when he’d suggested calling on Mr. Townsbridge and asking him if he could escort her instead. In her estimation it served Robert right if his lack of interest in her and their future caused her to spend time with a man who made her skin tingle instead. One thing was for certain, she told herself, if their marriage failed to work and they ended up living apart, it would not be her fault. She at least would take comfort in knowing she’d tried.
And then Mr. Townsbridge climbed into the carriage, and Bethany’s aggravation with Robert increased. How could he possibly encourage a man as handsome as Mr. Townsbridge to spend the entire day with his fiancée? It was beyond careless and only served to increase her assurance that Robert’s only purpose in marrying her was to secure her dowry.
“Good morning,” Mr. Townsbridge said. He sat down opposite her and glanced around, then frowned as if unsure he was in the right place. “No chaperone?”
Bethany’s cheeks heated. She cleared her throat and made an attempt at effecting indifference. “She couldn’t make it.”
The carriage took off and Mr. Townsbridge’s frown deepened. “She couldn’t make it?”
Bethany puffed out a breath. “My hope was to spend the day with Robert alone, so I made plans to prevent my maid from accompanying us while ensuring my parents would not be the wiser.”
Bafflement lent a faraway look to Mr. Townsbridge’s eyes. It appeared he was already thinking up ways in which to escape her company.
“I knew this would be a bad idea,” he said. “I told Robert as much but he refused to listen. We cannot possibly proceed with this excursion, my lady. Especially not without a chaperone.”
“I agree.” She should have asked Robert to see her home when he’d told her he could not join her. But she’d been so incredibly angry with him and now... She glanced at Mr. Townsbridge. The intensity of his gaze made her stomach flip. Her mouth grew dry and her eyes instinctively dropped to his lips.
No.
She was marrying Robert.
Robert, Robert, Robert.
“If you please,” she murmured, exhausted by all the tumultuous feelings crashing through her, “we can halt the carriage so you can step down. I’ll return home and inform my parents that I developed a megrim and needed to cancel the excursion. No one needs be the w
iser.”
“Excellent.” Relief flooded his features, and Bethany realized that he was just as reluctant to share her company as Robert was.
Brilliant.
The poor man had obviously been strong-armed into escorting her and desperately longed to be elsewhere. As proved by the fact that he rapped on the roof one second later, informing the driver they wanted to stop. Bethany glanced away from him, directing her gaze out the window so he wouldn’t see the emotion in her eyes. She knew it had to be visible, for she felt it acutely, the despair trembling inside her like struggling flames.
The carriage drew to a halt and a moment of silence ensued. “I hope you can forgive us both,” Mr. Townsbridge said. “For ruining your day.”
“You mustn’t blame yourself, Mr. Townsbridge. You simply tried to be helpful.”
She heard his boots scrape across the floor and then the click of the door opening. Swallowing, she decided to add one last parting comment. “You were wrong about him, by the way. He will not support my architectural aspirations. What he seeks is a proper Society wife. Not one who might incite gossip.”
She could sense him hovering in the doorway, but she refused to look back, too afraid of what she would see in his expression.
“I’m sorry,” he said. The carriage rocked slightly as he stepped down onto the pavement below. “Enjoy the rest of your day, my lady. After all, I trust it can only get better.”
His words caused a sharp pain to dart through her chest. She turned to face him just as the carriage door closed, but she met his gaze through the window and held it as she drove away, all too aware that she might have made a tremendous mistake when she’d agreed to marry Robert.
THE REST OF APRIL WAS filled with wedding preparations and packing. The wedding cake had to be designed, the menu for the wedding breakfast finalized. Bethany’s gown required additional fittings, and her trousseau also had to be completed. And then everything needed to be carefully placed in boxes so it could be transported to Langdon House.
When Love Leads To Scandal (The Townsbridges, #1) Page 3
