Mistaken Kiss: A Humorous Traditional Regency Romance (My Notorious Aunt Book 2)

by Kathleen Baldwin

  Alex nodded. “Yes, generally. But, not always quite so—” He almost told her that kissing did not usually set him on fire this quickly. “I cannot answer your question.”

  She slid off his lap, pulled her glasses out of her pocket, put them on, and studied him as if she were the local magistrate interrogating a poacher. “You look familiar, very like Sir Daniel. Who are you?”

  Alex smiled. She wore her hair in an ancient hairstyle. Her blue eyes were enormous behind the lenses, and her clothing was from another age. “I am his brother, Alexander Braeburn, at your service.”

  “Oh yes, of course. There’s a painting in the hallway. I remember you from when I was a little girl. But that’s been ages ago. He never speaks of you anymore.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “You don’t visit often, or I would have remembered you.”

  He smiled. “A logical deduction.”

  She sighed wearily. “Yes. I am nothing if not logical.”

  “You appear to be many things. Logical would not have ranked high on the list I was composing. Do you have a name?”

  “Miss Linnet, Wilhemina Linnet. However, in view of the fact that I have already taken the liberty of kissing you, you may call me Willa.”

  “Ah, Linnet. I know the name. Surely, you cannot be the vicar’s baby sister? You’re all grown up.”

  She frowned. “So I’ve been told.”

  “A privilege.” He remained seated and lazily bowed his head. “Am I to understand that you thought you were kissing my brother?”

  Willa pressed her lips together and nodded. “I was testing him.”

  “Testing?” One of Alex’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Yes, to ascertain if he had a passion in him for anything besides intellectual pursuits. I cannot marry him without some passion.”

  Alex struggled to remain solemn. “I see.”

  “This isn’t a laughing matter, sir. I am quite undone. For his kisses will certainly never compare to yours. Now I must spend the rest of my life with the unhappy knowledge that there are better kisses to be had.”

  Alex folded his arms across his chest and grinned at the beguiling young woman standing between his legs, completely unaware of her effect on him. “Perhaps you are mistaken about that.”

  She shook her head. “I doubt it.”

  “A great logician like yourself must be able to calculate a solution?”

  “There is none. No. It’s a futile undertaking.” Her chest heaved.

  Such a serious maiden. He was almost moved to compassion over her nonsensical dilemma. “Why not complete your plan? Kiss him as you did me. If you find Daniel as passionless as you fear, you can refuse to marry him.” He shrugged. “It’s not so difficult.”

  “I’ve already weighed that course of action.”

  Willa studied Alex. His features were the mirror image of Daniel’s, and yet on this man, the curly brown hair invited one to run her fingers through it. The hard plains of his jaw were tempered with smile lines, and he had an intriguing dimple next to his mouth. His brown eyes flashed with merriment, and his brows were not so heavy as his brother’s. Small distinctions, yet they made a world of difference.

  She shook her head. “You haven’t considered the consequences.” She mimicking her brother’s teaching tone. “Suppose I kiss Sir Daniel, find him lacking, and choose not to marry him. Then, I must spend the rest of my days as a spinster, with no kisses at all.”

  “An unhappy alternative.”

  “Yes.” She shifted closer to him. “After today, it is unthinkable. I wonder if I might impose upon you to kiss me once more? So that I may remember it well?”

  He arched one brow. “Are you sure it is wise?”

  “No. It is, undoubtedly, unwise. Wholly improper. But when I am old and alone, I would like to be able to look back on the experience. As a gentleman, you cannot deny me this simple request.”

  “How old are you? All of sixteen years, I would guess.”

  “No, of course not. I’m eighteen. Almost on the shelf. You probably miscalculated because I am so short.”

  “I see. Eighteen. In that case, given the prospect of your dotage, it’s almost a deathbed request. How can I refuse?” He inclined his head with a flourish. “Your servant.”

  She leaned closer to him. “I’ll remove my spectacles if you like. When I’m this close, I can see fairly well.”

  “You must please yourself.” He stood to perform his duty.

  She folded her glasses carefully and placed them in her pocket. Nervously, she leaned up on her toes, closing the distance between them.

  Alex didn’t grab her as he had before. He bent his head and let her come to him. She timidly placed her lips on his. When she pressed her full lips against his, he opened his mouth and coaxed her into a deeper kiss. He touched her waist, lightly tracing the old-fashioned cinched corset, enjoying the narrowness. Then he flattened his hand against her back and pulled her to him. She yielded, melting into his embrace, pouring fire into his veins.

  Alex took a breath and forced himself to let go. It was time to stop, or the delightful Miss Linnet would soon discover what followed kisses.

  She remained close enough that her breath tickled his chin when she spoke. “Thank you. I will never forget that.”

  Alex grinned lopsidedly. “I assure you, Miss Linnet, I will not soon forget it either. Now, perhaps it is time we went back to the house.”

  He wondered, briefly, what possessed him. Why should he behave with such restraint on her behalf? Wasn’t she offering, nay, begging him to kiss her? If she relished kissing so much, wouldn’t she also enjoy...

  But no, she was, after all an innocent, the vicar’s little sister.

  Willa set her spectacles back on her nose. They strolled silently through the grove of trees until she turned and looked up at Alex. “Are you a rake? Is that why Daniel never speaks of you? Is that why you kiss so wonderfully well?”

  A rake? He choked, barely able to keep from bursting out in laughter. “Such language, Miss Linnet. I’ve been called many things—let me see, a wastrel, a scapegrace, a prodigal, a gamester—but no, I can’t recall being called a rake.”

  Willa was quiet for a moment. “Oh, but surely, most wastrels and gamesters are rakes as well.”

  Alex was unable to keep from smiling at her audacity. “I bow to your superior knowledge of the breed.”

  Willa huffed. “Now you are gammoning me, Mr. Braeburn.”

  “Alex,” he corrected her.

  “Very well, Alex. Why does Daniel never speak of you?”

  He glanced down at the headstrong imp walking next to him. “I did mention prodigal in that list of traits, did I not? Well, there you have it. I was expelled from Eton and several other schools, tormented a score of England’s finest tutors, had no interest in experimenting with leeks, and, apparently, demonstrated considerable talent for getting into mischief. Daniel and Father decided I was an embarrassment to the Braeburn name. Father bought me an officer’s commission to which I was wholly unsuited. I sold out two years later. That was the coup de grace.”

  “What did your mother say about all this?”

  “You ask very pointed questions for a young lady.”

  “Nonsense. I merely wish to know what your mother thought of your antics. By all accounts she was a very kind lady.” Willa pointed toward the garden. “I doubt she would’ve expected you to turn out exactly like Daniel. If I were a mother, I would not expect all my children to be the same. That would be rather like expecting a cabbage to be a melon.”

  “A cabbage. I’m flattered, Miss Linnet.”

  “I did not mean—”

  He held up his hand to forestall her apology. “Quite right. I was a cabbage in the melon patch. Fortunately, my mother was rather fond of cabbage. You see, she could hunt and jump as well as any man. It was she who taught me to ride. For my tenth birthday, she gave me a hunter, a mare with an excellent bloodline.”

  Alex turned hi
s gaze toward the stables. It was an unconscious movement followed by an unchecked wince of pain.

  “What happened? Did the horse die?”

  “No.” He looked straight ahead. “Mother died the following year. Father sold off everything in the stable except for his coaching teams.”

  “Even your hunter?”

  “Yes, Miss Inquisitive, even my mare. It was not necessary for my education.”

  “How could he have been so heartless?” Willa looked up at him with eyes full of compassion.

  “Not heartless. Practical. It costs a great deal to keep a horse.”

  “Hmm. Nevertheless, I think it is unconscionable that Daniel does not speak of you.”

  “You’re too hard on him. You forget the schools I ran through, tutors, and the cost of a commission. Not only that, we have very little in common. I do not care for endless book reading, nor experimental farming. No, I’m contented to stay away.” Alex gestured toward the garden rows labeled with cards on stakes. “I’m not a farmer, nor a squire by nature. Daniel thinks of me as a gambler. I prefer to call myself a sporting man. We have very little in common. I suspect that he does not mention me merely because he does not think of me. Nor do I think of him often.”

  Willa tilted her head. “Yet, you are here, visiting your brother.”

  Alex laughed. “A matter of convenience, Miss Linnet. There is a prizefight between a London fellow and a bruising country lad. It takes place tomorrow afternoon, just outside St. Cleves. I’m imposing on my brother’s hospitality until the contest is over.”

  “I see.” Willa bit her bottom lip. “And I suppose you have a wager on one of these fellows?”

  “Naturally.”

  “Which one did you place your bet on? The London fellow or the country lad?”

  Alex adjusted the lace at his sleeve. “Well, Miss Inquisitive, I will make it a game for you. You must figure it out for yourself, and I’ll tell you if you guess correctly.”

  “Oh, but this is too easy.” Willa grinned at him. “You’ve placed your bet on the London man, and I will tell you why. You think our local boy will be a great slow lummox and the London chap is a more sophisticated pugilist. Am I right?”

  “Why Miss Linnet, you astound me.” He bowed. “And do you concur?”

  “That depends upon who the country lad is. Tell me the fellow’s name so I may decide.”

  “Ah, but then you’ll have an unfair advantage.”

  “Do you mean to tell me you know nothing of the fighter from London?”

  He laughed. “You don’t miss a step, do you?”

  “Unfortunately, I miss quite a few. I need new eyeglasses. But that is aside from the point. Who is the fellow from St. Cleves?”

  “The young man’s name is George Thompson.”

  “Georgie? Oh, but you must be mistaken. Georgie is hardly a grown man. Why, George Thompson is only seventeen. It cannot be.”

  “I’m certain of the name. Perhaps, there are two George Thompsons in the neighborhood. It is a common enough name.”

  “Yes, there are two, but the other is young George’s father. And I can assure you, Mr. Thompson is not a boxer.”

  Alex held out his hands. “I don’t know what to say. It must be your Georgie. Seventeen is not so very young. There are boys much younger fighting for their king and country on the continent.”

  “But he’s needed on their farm. If anything should happen to him, I don’t know how his father will get on.” Willa frowned and kicked at a stone. The stone proved too large for her slippered foot to stir. She winced and hopped on the other leg.

  Alex held out his arm. She took it and limped along next to him.

  “Where is this contest to be held?” she asked in an irritated clip.

  “I believe Lord Winthrop has volunteered one of his tenant’s pastures north of town.”

  “Oh lovely, now the poor tenant’s pasture will be trampled by spectators from London.”

  “Surely the man will be paid.”

  “I certainly hope so. But that says nothing to the fact that poor Georgie will have his head bashed in by your vicious London man.”

  “Then you believe my wager is well placed.”

  “How can you consider the money, sir? This is barbaric. What pleasure can you have watching two men thrash each other as if they were recalcitrant schoolboys?”

  “It is a great mystery,” he said with false gravity. Then Alex stopped abruptly and turned to her. “I don’t suppose there is any chance this Georgie fellow has paid a visit to Gentleman Jackson’s Pugilist Academy in London?”

  “That’s ridiculous. He’s never left the farm.”

  Alex clicked his tongue and shook his head but walked on with a smug grin.

  “Do not gloat, Mr. Braeburn. I assure you something will be done. You will not win any money on this contest. This massacre will never take place—not if I have to stop it myself!”

  To which Alex’s shoulders shook with merriment. “My dear Miss Linnet, what a perfectly terrifying female you are.” He could hold back no longer and laughed aloud.

  Willa let go of his arm, tilted her chin into the air, and marched off in a great hurry toward the house. Alex stopped and, with pleasant speculation, watched her hips swing, without artifice, from side to side as she stomped resolutely away. Intriguing little minx.

  * * *

  Willa vowed to herself she would show him she meant what she said. First, however, she would prove that she was right about Sir Daniel. It was time to settle the matter of her engagement. She proceeded directly down the hallway and threw open the study door. There they sat, Jerome and Daniel, still engaged in the same heated debate.

  “I might’ve known,” she muttered. In a considerably sterner tone, she addressed her brother. “Jerome, I would like a few moments alone with Sir Daniel.”

  “Not now, Willa, I—” Jerome took one look at her and reconsidered.

  Willa shut the library door behind her brother and marched up to Sir Daniel. “Kiss me, Daniel.”

  He sprang to his feet and shuffled uncomfortably. His face turned red and then white and he fidgeted with his cuffs. “Really, Willa, what can you mean?”

  “It’s quite simple. I mean for you to kiss me.”

  Daniel coughed and pulled at his collar. “I’m not at all sure it’s proper, perhaps after we are married.”

  “Perhaps?” Willa stamped her foot. “Perhaps, you will suffer a kiss after we are married? Daniel, you will kiss me now, or there will be no marriage.”

  He studied the corners of his ceiling. His fingers, failed to tap together in a perfect steeple, they fumbled, twisted and wrung into a knot.

  “Very well.” He closed his eyes, bent toward Willa’s upturned face, and planted a small kiss on her forehead.

  “That is not what I meant.” Willa pointed to her lips.

  Daniel stumbled backward and bumped into a bookcase.

  She stepped toward him.

  His eyes no longer looked like those of a sad puppy. They reminded Willa of a frightened hare.

  “It doesn’t hurt,” she tried to persuade him.

  “Really, Willa, this is all quite peculiar. You have never behaved in this manner toward me before.” Daniel straightened his shoulders, and for a fleeting moment, he resembled Alex.

  “You’ve never offered marriage to me before. If you won’t kiss me, you must withdraw your proposal.”

  “I can’t do that. A matter of honor, don’t you see? What would your brother think?”

  “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

  “Yes. Yes, very well.” He closed his eyes, puckered his lips, and slumped toward her. Willa pressed her mouth against his as she had done to Alex. Daniel created a small smacking noise and withdrew.

  “As I thought.” Willa turned around.

  Alex entered through the back of the house and meandered down the hallway toward Daniel’s study, curious as to how Miss Inquisitive’s quest for passion fared. He found her bro
ther, the vicar, squatting outside the library door peering through the keyhole. At the sound of Alex’s boots clicking on the marble floor, Jerome jumped up, red faced and stammering. Alex chuckled. “Well met, Jerome.”

  Jerome gawked at him. “I don’t usually...I wouldn’t except it’s my sister, you see...” He pointed at the door.

  Alex nodded and tried to school his features. He could well imagine Daniel quaking like a jelly as Willa made her demands. “Unusual young woman, your sister. Unless I miss my guess, she’s testing my brother.”

  “Testing? But, but—” Jerome stuttered and appeared to be almost at the point of regaining his equilibrium when the door flew open, forcing him to leap out of the way.

  Willa looked decidedly unhappy.

  “I was right.” She glared pointedly, first at Alex and then at her brother. “There will be no marriage. You may tell Sir Daniel he is off the hook. Furthermore, you needn’t worry about me, Jerome. I’ll hie me off to a nunnery and tend the sick.”

  She flounced past them and headed up the stairway.

  Jerome followed closely on her heels. “Willa, be sensible. This is preposterous. You’ve been reading too much Shakespeare. No one runs off to a nunnery anymore. This is England. You know full well that Queen Elizabeth abolished—” His voice trailed off as he wound up the stairwell after her.

  Alex’s mouth curved up into a one-sided grin. So, the little whirlwind hadn’t liked Daniel’s kisses. He felt unaccountably pleased.

  Chapter 2

  Jack Be Nimble, Jack Be Quick

  I’ve watched the seconds pat and nurse

  Their man; and seen him put to bed;

  With twenty guineas in his purse,

  And not an eye within his head.

  —J.H. Reynolds, The Fancy

  “I KISSED HIM.”

  “Never say you did, Miss Willa.”

  “Oh, but I did. I did, Aggie, and it was wonderful.”

  The candle on the vanity flickered against the darkness of night. Aggie adjusted the white mobcap atop her graying hair. Then she looked down into the mirrored reflection of her mistress’s face and shook the hairbrush at her.