The Lady to Match a Rogue: Faith (The Baggington Sisters Book 4)

by Isabella Thorne

  That evening, Oscar left Demon behind and took the Baron Torsfold’s phaeton to town. He had loaded the quaint bassinet into the carriage and drove himself to a place that he had once frequented on a regular basis; the home of his friend, Edgar Charleston, the Baron Torsford. Edgar had always been a boon to their schoolboy outings, but after the death of his first wife in childbirth, he had thrown himself into the life of leisure, topped with drink and women. Somehow, long before the others, he had pulled himself free of that quagmire and captured the heart of a local schoolmarm. Others might say she had caught Edgar, but he knew that was not true. It was the baron who had pursued her. Edgar seemed happy.

  Oscar knew now that his friend’s wife, Caroline was with child. Although for a time Edgar had been loathed to allow the news to become public, he had let the matter slip to his best friend because he wanted encouragement. Edgar was struggling with the fear of losing yet another wife in pursuit of an heir. It was clear that he loved Caroline dearly and feared for her. Oscar soothed his friend, telling him women had babies every day. It was a tragedy that his first wife had passed, but the sorrow need not be repeated with Caroline, and Edgar thanked him for his support.

  Oscar thought that this might be the best time to attempt to redeem himself to his old friend and perhaps gain the baroness’ good graces. The lady had not approved of Oscar’s association with her husband due to his past sins. Still, despite their falling out when he first married, Edgar had once been Oscar’s most trustworthy companion. If Oscar were soon to have the duty of running an estate on his own, he would need the advice and friendship of one as rational as Edgar. Oscar certainly had no intention of consulting the other blokes of their once merry band; those that were still knee deep in liquor and ladies. Such would run his ancestral home to the ground.

  Titherington was left to wait a long while in the parlor, turning his cane, a gift from his grandfather, over and over in his hands. The instrument had been coated in a fine black stain and fitted with a silver handle in the shape of a fox’s head. The wait led him to believe that he would not be received. If it were entirely up to the baroness, he probably would never again be welcome at the Torsford Estate. Caroline held no kindness for him, nor should she after he had nearly run her students aground while jumping hedges. Of course, she had forgiven Edgar, he thought with a smile. Still, Oscar had been irate at the young school mistress’s scolding that day. Now, he could not help but smile at the feisty sprite that had stood up to a pack of six rowdy gentlemen. For that, he had come to respect her. His smile broadened as the thought brought Miss Baggington to mind. Miss Baggington had a similar spunk. He thought that Edgar would like her, and perhaps his wife would too. He imagined introducing Miss Baggington to them, but of course, she must already know them, living in Nettlefold as she did.

  “Titherington,” the baron entered the room with a hesitant nod.

  Oscar stood to greet him. “I have returned your phaeton,” he said.

  It was clear that the baron, although happy to lend his conveyance, was unsure whether to be pleased or leery of his old friend’s visit.

  Oscar held his hands up in a signal that he meant no disturbance. “I know… I know…” was all that he could bring himself to say in explanation.

  “My butler said that you arrived… quietly,” Edgar seemed unconvinced, “and sober.”

  “Both are true. I swear to it.”

  Edgar’s face broke into a grin as he grabbed his friend’s hand and pulled him into an embrace.

  “How have you been?” the baron asked in earnest. “It’s been an age. No one has heard a thing about you in months. I had begun to fear that you had perished when the other gents said that you never even renewed your membership to the club.”

  Oscar shrugged. “I have been busy,” he admitted. “I was in London with my grandfather, visiting his solicitor.” Oscar paused. “My grandfather is ill.”

  “I am sorry to hear it.”

  Oscar nodded. “Even if he recovers he is getting along in his years and I suppose that I have had to put my boots on, so to speak. Grandfather has kept me busy with the lands now that he is unable to take an active hand in attending them. I have learned quite a lot. I will not pretend to regret it. I really am enjoying myself, or rather, this new version of myself. Things are slower now, simpler. I have been spending time with my grandfather. He is an interesting old man. I only wish that I might have seen it sooner. The running of an estate is no easy task.”

  “Truer words could not be spoken,” the baron laughed, he offered his old friend a chair and Oscar sat.

  “You must tell me how you do it sometime. But enough of me; how is it with you?” Oscar pressed on. “And your wife?”

  The Baron cleared his throat. “Listen, Caroline is not pleased that you are here.” He said somewhat nervously. “She will not be happy about your return.”

  Edgar went to the side table and picked up a decanter of brandy. He held it up in question, but Oscar shook his head. “No, thank you,” he said.

  Edgar raised an eyebrow.

  “I do not think I should meet your wife with the smell of liquor upon my person. I am attempting to make an apology.”

  “Wise chap,” Edgar said putting the bottle aside. “Regardless, this is still my home. I can offer you at least a night or two. Anything more and she might run me through, and you must be on your best behavior. I tell you, if you thought she was fiery thing before, you should meet her with child. Her mood changes like lightning.”

  “I have secured a place of my own,” Oscar admitted with a smile and a proud set in his bearing that he had done the responsible thing for once. “I let the little cottage just outside of town. It is more than large enough for my needs and Mr. Porter, who owns it says I can stay as long as I like. Through the end of spring at least, is my hope. I may head to Bath with the summer.” He was nervous that, even without the imposition, his friend would reject him. Instead, Edgar clapped him on the back and offered him a hearty well done.

  “You will stay for dinner then at the very least, Caroline cannot deny us that much.”

  Oscar gave a nervous laugh. “I was hopeful that I might have a chance to speak with her,” he said with a grimace. “Congratulate her on the child. I have a gift.”

  The baron’s eyes grew wide. “Oh my,” he breathed. “Then, you had best come bearing some miracle gift. The child makes her mood capricious, Mary-Elizabeth upset her and Caroline has not wanted to see anyone since last week.”

  “Least of all me,” Oscar laughed.

  “Least of all you,” the baron confirmed. Still, with little more persuasion, he left the room to retrieve his wife. Oscar hoped that his friend might be able to provide an explanation before Caroline came barreling into the room in a fit of rage. What she actually did was much worse.

  Lady Torsford entered the room with a calm and silent grace. She was plump, and the flowing fabric around her did little to hide the advanced state of her pregnancy, but she still managed to boast a shining beauty that left her husband gazing down upon her with pride. If Oscar knew anything about ladies it was that silent poise was the most dangerous of all their tactics. It was for that reason that he burst forth with his own speech as soon as her lips began to part.

  “Lady Torsford,” he began with a slight bow. “I come bearing my heartfelt congratulations on your,” he stammered, at a loss for words, “your state.” Her husband tucked his lips between his teeth and bit down to suppress his laughter. Caroline glared up at her snickering husband, who in response, offered only a shrug.

  This was not going well, Oscar thought. He cleared his throat and began again.

  “I know what this must mean to you, to both of you,” he wrung his hands together with nervous energy and beckoned the pair forward to follow him further into the room so that they might have a better view behind the couch that had been set as a divider to the room and provided a perfect screen for his purposes. “Therefore, I present this gift to you, and y
our child, in the hope that it might…”

  He never got the chance to finish his speech for Lady Caroline had let forth a gasp and erupted into tears. Oscar stood in shocked silence as the lady’s husband gathered her sobbing form against his chest. The baron offered soft, ineffective pats to her back. Mr. Titherington was unsure as to whether her response had been one of pleasure or misery; such was the vagary of the lady’s reaction.

  “Caroline saw that bassinet in the shop not two months ago, and I instructed her not to buy a thing until all the gifts had been given,” Edgar explained. “She has been talking about it nonstop ever since, certain that it was meant for our child alone.”

  Oscar let out a breath of relief. Miss Baggington had indeed done him the greatest of favors. She had picked out a miracle of a gift. Had it been up to him he would have chosen some ridiculous rattle or a pair of satin booties and determined that they would suffice. He had no idea what a mother of a new babe would want. He would have to thank Miss Baggington in some way.

  Lady Torsford wiped away her tears with embarrassed laughter. “I seem to break into tears at the slightest provocation,” she managed. “But thank you. The gift is so very special.”

  “I have informed Caroline of your reformation and, at first she would not believe it,” Edgar teased his blushing wife. “I told her that it was no less surprising than when I was first set straight. She wondered over the identity of the lady who could bring about such a transformation, but I told her your grandfather has been ill.”

  “My most heartfelt good wishes and prayers, to you, Mr. Titherington,” Caroline said. “Your grandfather is a well-respected member of the community, and I liked the man although I haven’t seen him for years.”

  “He does not get out much anymore.”

  The conversation stilled and Caroline turned back to the cradle. “It is such a kind, thoughtful thing,” she said. “I must admit that I really only expected you to come here to try to take my husband upon some mad adventure.”

  “Now is not the time for that,” Oscar said.

  “No, it is not,” she laughed and placed a gentle hand upon the swell of her midsection.

  “Though, I am certain that I can manage to show your son a thing or two, once he arrives,” Oscar teased.

  “Don’t you dare!” Caroline scolded. “Besides, Edgar thinks it is a girl.”

  “I am confident that you will have several,” Oscar replied, “and I intend to spoil them all, if you shall allow it.”

  With the initial burden of his welcome completed, Oscar was invited to stay to supper. For several hours he spoke with the couple. He even found that Caroline was intelligent and insightful when it came to all matters of frugality. Oscar realized that she would be a good observer of character if, and when, he decided to take a wife of his own. Unbidden, the face of Miss Baggington came to mind, not because Oscar wished to marry his new acquaintance, certainly not, he assured himself, but because Caroline would undoubtedly voice her approval, or disapproval, of his choice.

  “Are there any yet to town that can vouch for your claim at reformation, or is this merely for our pleasure as of yet?” Caroline teased as she speared a bean with her fork.

  Oscar hesitated. Miss Baggington could vouch for his character, he thought. Would she though? Perhaps not, considering their last encounter. The memory of the kiss burned through him. Besides, from all that he had observed of her she would not wish their acquaintance to be made known. His mind searched for some other meeting that might be to his benefit.

  “The blacksmith,” he said with a snap of his fingers after a long, telling pause. “Mr. Brassey.”

  Edgar narrowed his eyes and hummed his disbelief. He seemed well aware that the blacksmith, though always diligent and respectful, held no liking for Mr. Titherington or his horse.

  “I may have caused him quite the shock,” Oscar admitted, “but I dare say both Demon and I behaved as we ought.”

  “Demon as well?” Edgar’s voice now dripped with incredulity.

  “We have each made our strides,” Oscar offered with a self-depreciating shrug. “We still have a long road, but I think we are no cause for lost hope.”

  “Once I shall hope,” Lady Torsford interjected. “Twice I shall praise. Thrice I shall believe.”

  “Fair enough,” Oscar laughed. “I do hope to prove myself more than thrice.”

  “Well,” Edgar grinned knowingly at his friend, “we have had a lot to make up for.”

  Caroline retired early and Oscar stayed a while to play cards with Edgar, but he noted the baron remained sober, and therefore, Oscar did as well.

  So it was that their first meeting went off without a hitch. Oscar was invited to dine again in a few days when Edgar’s mother and sisters returned from a stay with another Nettleford acquaintance. Oscar had not had the pleasure of seeing the ladies in an age for they had long stayed away from the debauchery of their elder brother and his wild friends.

  As an only son whose own mother had died shortly after his birth, and a father who died far too soon as well, Oscar had little experience or understanding of a close knit family. In the secret recesses of his heart he had always longed for an overlarge collection of relatives. Instead, he was soon to lose the only one that remained. It was a grim thought, but he was happy to hear that his friend had been able to reconnect with his own relations. Oscar said as much, and before he bid his farewell, offered the Baron Torsford his compliments on his new life and the changes that had been made to achieve such ends. Now, Oscar thought, if only he might be so fortunate as to do the same. He thought it would please his grandfather to see him settled before he passed. Again, an image of the lovely Miss Baggington came to mind.

  8

  A few days later dinner at the baron’s home was postponed as indicated by a hastily scratched note that Oscar received. Apparently, Lady Caroline had spent the night giving birth to a healthy baby boy. Oscar considered going to the Torsford residence anyway to offer support to his friend, and new father, but that would probably be liquid support only and not the best thought for the mother. Instead, Oscar spent the night quietly reading, allowing the baron time with his new family.

  Oscar’s thoughts were also with family, his only family, his grandfather, and he wrote the man a letter. He considered telling him of Miss Baggington, but what would he say? He did not even know the chit’s first name.

  Once the letter was ready for post, he remembered the last night he had sat with his grandfather. He set up a chess board to distract the man. They played chess for a while, and Oscar read to his grandfather until he fell asleep. How was it that he never fostered a friendship with the old man? Oscar could see the man fading away before his eyes, and he wanted to know his grandfather before he passed from this world. Still the thought of a new baby brought him joy. Edgar, as his best friend, was near the only family he would have once his grandfather passed. As one man passed from the world, a new youngster came into the world.

  Several more days had passed and Oscar could wait no longer. He intended to go by to see how Edgar was holding up. The thought that his friend had with Caroline produced a child and heir made Oscar feel strange. It was a new world where his friend had passed into adulthood, and he still lingered in youth. He thought of all the things that would go into teaching a son of his own. His son: a son who could grow up with Edgar’s son. The thought made him smile. He was sure they would be great friends, just like their fathers had been. Oh, the trouble they would cause. With the notion of children, came an image of Miss Baggington.

  “Oh, bollocks,” he said testily. He could not get the woman out of his mind.

  He was haunted by her face and her form. He liked the way she had felt against him on their ride and how the small swell of her bosom lifted when she breathed. He liked the way her mouth turned at the corner when she was amused, and how she laughed aloud with genuine mirth. He liked how she looked down when she thought he could not see her blush. Her lashes were dark and fu
ll resting nearly upon her cheeks. The gesture, begged for him to put his fingers under her chin and turn her face up to his. Then she would smile, and her eyes would dance with light, and then he would kiss her. Her mouth would be soft and accepting beneath his as she had been that night on the lane. He would pull her close. Such musing was not conducive to his new resolve to be respectable.

  Mr. Oscar Titherington shook himself from his reverie. He must get the thought of Miss Baggington from his mind. He did not even know the chit’s Christian name, but still, she lingered. He knew that she was attracted to him as well. He had been in the company of enough young ladies to know that when one forgot she was wearing only one glove, or when she stuttered in that distracted way, she was more aware of him that she would wish to let on. Oh, and that kiss! How she melted in his arms, like warm butter. The thought brought a smile to his face and he could not quite curtail it. He also realized that for all her forthrightness, he thought Miss Baggington was shy. He had never before been attracted to a shy miss, but it was an experience he would relish. He wanted to see her bloom like a rare flower.

  With a satisfied smile still permanently upon his lips, Titherington attended his belated dinner at the Baron Torsford’s home. The new mother was still resting when he arrived, and would officially be out of Society until she and the child were churched, but Edgar could not contain himself. He wanted to show off his son and went to fetch the lad, leaving Oscar standing just inside the entranceway. He chuckled at Edgar’s enthusiasm.

  Edgar’s mother and sisters, Miss Mary-Elizabeth Charleston had just arrived with Edgar’s own mother, she said, ‘to help with the baby’ and Oscar spoke briefly with the ladies asking about their health and the family. Oscar thought they were just the sort of distraction that he needed after his encounter with Miss Baggington in town. He should not let the lady become too involved in his thoughts. He would put thought of her aside this evening and enjoy the baron’s company.