Sweet Summer Kisses

by Erin Knightley

  Her candor loosened his tongue. “In my case, my disappointment was directed at myself. And I don’t ever talk to anyone about it. I go on with my life as best as I can.”

  “Why are you disappointed in yourself? I think you are a fine young man.” Her cheeks flushed with the prettiest rosiness he’d ever seen. His heart caught in his throat.

  He swallowed. “Well, thank you for saying so, but you see I am the third son. I don’t have the gift of leadership or suavity of manner or even business acumen that the head of one’s family should possess. I never cultivated any of it. I wanted to be a soldier. From my earliest recollections, I can tell you that all I wanted to do was follow the drum.”

  “Now you feel obligated to be someone you aren’t.” Louisa sighed. “Yes, I understand the feeling too, in my own little way. I am supposed to be happy about making my debut in the Spring but it feels hollow and empty. I am angry with Papa.”

  “Because of…” He trailed off. He couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud in front of a lady, but he was rather sure that Lord Bradbury was with his mistress when they spied him.

  “Such a desecration to Mama’s memory.” Louisa knew, without saying anything else, what he meant. What a relief to have a friend who could surmise his thoughts without him having to spell out every detail. “And how dare he tell me how to live my life, when his is rather in need of reformation.”

  “I agree.” It was true. If Louisa wanted to stay in Bath and work with the Veterans’ Group, why shouldn’t she? Why should Lord Bradbury force her into a role she hated? He himself had no choice in the matter, for he was bound to family obligation, but Louisa should be allowed to be free.

  “Are all men of our class like that?” Once again, her frankness was both startling and liberating.

  “Some are,” he admitted. “But not all. My brothers and I were raised to have more respect for women. I suppose it is my mother’s influence. She’s strong, and raised us to think of women as equals among men.”

  “I like your mother already,” Louisa said with a smile. “I am sure my father knows your family. We’ve run in the same circles, and lived in the same place for years.”

  They were nearing the Bradbury home, and he grew reluctant to let her go. The fresh way she expressed herself and the touch of her gloved hand on the crook of his elbow were too dazzling to give up. He slowed his steps.

  “Home.” Louisa looked over at the Bradbury portico and sighed. “So you never say anything, and you go on with your life, do you?”

  He gave her a small smile. “That is what I do. I don’t know that I would recommend it in your case, though.” She should be liberated.

  “I agree.” She drew away from him and extended her hand. “Now, we must come up with a secret handshake.”

  He grasped her hands in his and smiled. Her touch was so exhilarating, no special performance was required. “For now, let us part with a simpler ritual.” His voice, like his hands, shook. She would sense this, and find him ridiculous, surely, if they prolonged this little ceremony.

  Louisa gave his hands a hearty squeeze, and smiled. “I shall tell no one about it.”

  Then she was off, her cloak billowing behind her as she ran.

  He watched her as she went, his heart pounding unnaturally in his chest.

  Louisa should always run free.

  Chapter 5

  Louisa sat at her end of the table, toying with her supper as she glanced casually at her father. She sized him up, for he was a worthy opponent. Papa had all the weapons of charm, money, and of course, fatherly feeling at his command. Whereas she had only logic, reason, and her undeniable faith that she was completely and utterly in the right.

  This confrontation would be so much easier if she had all her wits about her. Since her stroll with Thomas that afternoon, her mind had been in a muddle. All she could think of was his close-clipped dark hair and the proud way he carried himself, as though standing sentry in the midst of chaos. The touch of his hand still burned in hers, even though she’d stripped off her gloves as soon as possible and washed before coming to the dining room.

  Surely she wasn’t doing something ridiculous, like falling in love with Thomas. That would mean she was playing right into her father’s hands. She could see Papa lighting a cheroot with panache as she announced her engagement. No, she must not ever fall in love with Thomas, handsome as he was. A good young man from a well-connected family would surely spoil all her plans for teaching. She would be doing exactly what Papa and Amelia wanted, which was completely intolerable.

  She could never stand to see Amelia gloat.

  She must stop this nonsense.

  “Well, my dear, I saw you walking out on the Crescent when I returned from the Club.” Papa beamed at her from his end of the table. “With whom were you strolling?”

  Thus it began. Papa would be so odiously pleased if he had any inkling of her heightened sensibilities. “Captain Wright and I took a turn about the Crescent this afternoon. He, too, is working for the Veterans’ Group.” There, perhaps if she mentioned their charitable efforts, Papa would grow bored and change the subject. “He is as passionate about helping the men and their families as I.”

  “Wright? Not old Joseph Wright’s son, is he? He had an elder brother who died recently.” Papa sat back in his chair, a speculative gleam brightening his eyes. “That means that your captain is now the heir.”

  “Not my captain,” Louisa snapped. Really, Papa was assuming far too much. “He mentioned that he is now the head of his family.” She could run on and tell Papa that Thomas hated the very thought of his new position, but somehow, saying it aloud to someone else smacked of betrayal. Thomas confided in her, and she had no right to speak of his discomfort to anyone, even if it might throw Papa off the scent.

  Papa raised his glass and took a long draught. When he set it down, he gave her a knowing smile. “From the little bit I spied, I would say this young fellow is your captain, whether you acknowledge it or not. He seemed quite taken with you.”

  Sudden cold anger flooded Louisa’s soul. Her promenade this afternoon was perfectly innocent, and more than that, Thomas had given her the courage to speak her mind. He was a good friend. There was nothing coy or cute in Thomas’ attentions, and Papa was making it all sound so silly and unpleasant.

  “I spied something today as well.” She placed her fork beside her plate with the feeling of one girding for battle.

  “What did you spy?” Papa gave her an indulgent smile and then took a bite of his dinner. Chicken in a béchamel sauce, one of his favorites. Would it forever taste of ashes in his mouth once she confronted him? And yet…

  A momentary twinge of doubt made her swallow hard. Could she really confront her father? Flawed he most certainly was, but never unkind or ungenerous. A girl couldn’t ask for a better father, even if Papa had very narrow vision regarding her place in this world.

  On the other hand, he was forcing her into a life she didn’t want, while he did precisely as he chose.

  “I saw you with…a lady,” she blurted. That was as brave and as polite a start as she could make. She couldn’t force any other word at the moment.

  Papa stopped chewing. “Indeed?”

  “Yes. I believe her name is Madame Catalogna. Or at least, that’s what Amelia says her name is.” Louisa forced herself to meet Papa’s eyes. “I was only taken with her beautiful gown and her abundant blonde hair.”

  Papa spluttered, reaching for his glass. “Amelia? You spoke to Amelia about what you saw?”

  Hot tears pricked the back of Louisa’s eyes. Confronting Papa didn’t make her feel triumphant or victorious after all. No, it was a sad business indeed. “I sent for her as soon as I got home,” she admitted. “Oh, Papa. How could you? Mama—“

  Papa rose, sending his chair skidding back from the table. “I never meant for you to see me with Madame Catalogna,” he admitted. “I keep my two worlds as separate as possible. I apologize if I hurt you. I promise, I won
’t allow it to happen again.”

  “So, you will end this…this…relationship?” Hope dawned within Louisa. Perhaps there could be a happy ending to this sorry business after all.

  Papa leaned against the table, fixing her with his steady, piercing gaze. “No, I shan’t give her up. I shall take better care of this division I maintain between my home life and my social life.” He glanced down, the corners of his mouth turned in a frown. “I’m sorry you saw her, Louisa.”

  His abrupt change from her playful nickname to her formal name was startling. And it signaled both the impending end of the discussion and the division in his life he spoke of. “Papa,” she began, rising and coming over toward him. “Papa, if you love her, then you should not separate her from the rest of our world.”

  “My feelings for Mme. Catalogna are none of your affair. I merely rue the day I put her in accommodations so close to home.” He sighed.

  Her anger, which had simmered down, rose again in a rolling boil. So his love life, scandalous as it was, did not concern her. In fact, he would not deign to speak to her about Mme. Catalogna, and he wasn’t sorry that he kept her, only that Louisa knew he kept her. Yet, despite all this, he thought nothing at all of inquiring after Captain Wright, assuming fantastic things about a mere ramble in the park.

  Really, the insolence of her father could not be calculated, for it reached far beyond all that she could imagine.

  “So you think nothing at all of telling me how I shall live my life, and asking all sorts of questions of my innocent friendship, whilst your affaires de coeur are kept out of the discussion?” Her voice trembled dangerously, and she grasped hold of a dining-chair for support.

  “It is my duty as your father to see you safely wed, to a man of good standing,” he replied in a reasonable tone of voice—the very tone that drove her to a frenzy when she was furious. “The two situations are miles apart, dear. Surely you see that.”

  “Oh, Papa!” Her fury could no longer be contained. “How dare you! You sin in private with Mme. Catalogna, in defiance of dear Mama’s memory. Then you dictate that I shall not have anything more to do with the school in just a matter of months, when the school and my children bring me such joy, and are so pure and so wholesome!” Tears filled her eyes. She hated to cry, for it signaled her weakness, but they flowed freely and would not be checked. “I hate our Society, and I hate my position in it. I shan’t ever reconcile myself to it—or to you!”

  She fled the room, taking the stairs two at a time. A trio of servants gaped at her, open-mouthed, as she dashed past them to her room. Well, let them stare. She had made a jolly good scene, the kind that Papa and Amelia hated, but at least she had voiced her feelings.

  She flung open the door of her room and cast herself across her bed, which gave a mournful squeak as she settled against her pillows. Nothing would ever come of this outburst, of course. More unfortunately, no one was here to comfort her. Lucy was home with her husband, Ensign Rowland. Amelia was with Lord Spencer, and she would offer no sympathy anyway. Thomas—well, he was busy with his own duties, likely dining quietly with his mother, with no dramatics and no tears.

  She gave a hiccoughing sob, and buried her face in her pillows.

  ~*~

  Thomas glanced over the list of veterans’ names, spelled out in Captain Cantrill’s precise, exacting handwriting. He had to find these people warm, decent homes. He rubbed his fist across his eyes to clear his bleary vision. He’d been studying the list since before supper time, and now, in the guttering candlelight, he was ready to relinquish all hope. How was finding something so simple so difficult?

  “Thomas.” Mama appeared in the doorway. “You have been working all evening. You missed supper, to say nothing of an impromptu call from the Pooles. Upon my word, I have never seen you so obsessed.”

  “I’ve been charged with a duty, Mother.” He cast the sheet of foolscap aside and rose. “I must fulfill it, even at the risk of missing out on social engagements.” That sounded rather harsher than he meant it to. He softened the blow by giving her a wan smile.

  “What duty?” Mother tilted her head to one side and took a few steps into the room. “Has it something to do with our home in Somerset? Are you concerned about the tenants?”

  “No, Mother. This is an obligation given me by Captain Cantrill.” He said no more, for if he began speaking about the Veterans’ Group, surely she would rail anew about responsibilities and young ladies and being head of the family. All afternoon, even as he toiled, he would occasionally catch a brief scent of rosewater. Did Louisa’s touch still linger on his hand, or on his elbow?

  She would likely impress upon him the need to marry well. If he married Louisa, he would be marrying well indeed. Yes, the truth was painfully obvious. He was all too aware of a certain young lady, and he had no wish to discuss his future plans with his mother.

  “Well, then.” Mother shrugged. “I thought perhaps it had something to do with our home, or with the building Jacob acquired here in Bath.”

  A building here, in Bath? He had been through the ledger books but never saw anything related to that sort of matter. Mostly he had been trying to make sense of all the notes about their country home, their tenants, and the fields nearby, all in Jacob’s spidery, cramped handwriting. As to their concerns in Bath, however, he found very little.

  “I saw nothing of that, Mother,” he replied. “A building? Why would Jacob acquire a structure here in Bath?”

  “I am sure I can give you no account of it, other than your brother wished to diversify his investments,” Mother replied. Already she looked bored. “You’ll have to speak to our man of affairs about it, you know, Mr.--?”

  “Brown. Mr. Brown.” When Jacob passed, Mr. Brown had paid a call or two upon Thomas, bestowing him with the bewildering library of ledger books he now waded through.

  “Yes. Brown has an office in the High Street, I am sure.” Mama gave him a tired smile. “Well, I am off to bed, then. Do retire soon, Thomas. Whatever commission Captain Cantrill has given you, I am sure it can wait until the morning.”

  Thomas gave her the obligatory peck on the cheek, and nodded. “Of course, Mother. Sleep well.”

  As she drifted back out of the room, Thomas shuffled through the ledgers on his desk with a renewed sense of purpose. If he had property he knew nothing about, then perhaps the answer he sought was already well within reach. He would pay a call upon Mr. Brown in the morning, and obtain a clearer view of all he owned.

  When Mr. Brown had come to him, in the days after Jacob’s passing, Thomas was still in a state of shock and rebellion. He had paid very little heed to what the man was saying, and gave him only cursory attention. But now, Mr. Brown could offer the answers he sought. For perhaps, among his properties, there was some place or something he could offer of value to the families under his care.

  He shuffled the papers into a neat stack and piled the ledger books one atop the other. In the military he had learned the value of keeping everything in his care tidy. Why had he not applied this same precision to finding out and cataloging everything in his care as master of his family?

  Because he had hoped that something would come along to change matters. All the time he knew, in his heart of hearts, that nothing would change. He knew it when he saw Matthew fall on the battlefield. Then it had been his duty not to mourn, but to take up his brother’s mantle and continue the fight. He knew the truth when Jacob had succumbed as well, and he assumed a mantle of a different sort. At that time, he was so wrapped up in the feelings of inadequacy that he, well, pulled a quilt over his head, so to speak. He hid, because of the three brothers, he was the least. The least capable, the least intelligent, the least suave, the least of a keen business sense—certainly a wallflower in a family of smart, savvy, and keen men.

  It would have made more sense if he had been the one to die. One could almost question God’s will at times like these. Why had his elder brothers perished, while he lived? How on earth coul
d he fill their boots? For they both left behind legacies that were rather beyond his ken.

  Thomas grasped his candle and quit the study, seeking the comfort of his room.

  He shouldn’t question his life’s purpose. He really shouldn’t.

  It was dashed hard not to at times like these.

  He could never take Jacob’s place, but he owed it to everything and everyone in his care to at least try to be a good master. After all, it was no fault of their servants or tenants that Jacob had passed.

  When he started as a mere ensign, he knew nothing of battle. But he learned, time and time again. Thus it must be with his new duties. He would merely have to learn.

  He owed it to his brothers to at least try.

  Chapter 6

  “Thomas, I need your help.”

  Thomas jumped, startled, as Louisa put her hand on his arm. Here, in the quiet of the sanctuary of St. Swithins’, he had been thinking only of his mission, and he assumed he was completely alone. Seeing Louisa there, her gloved hands now clasped before her in an imploring gesture, wreaked havoc upon his senses. For a moment, he could only stare. She was so pretty—really, quite the most attractive girl he’d ever met. He should know, for he had seen a lot of lovely women while his group was quartered in Paris.

  He had agreed to take control of his family’s legacy. Did that mean he was also ready to begin looking for a wife? He swallowed hard before replying.

  “Why do you need my help, Louisa?”

  “Well, here’s the problem.” Louisa, with a rustle of skirts, sank beside him on the pew. “I confronted Papa about his…well, about Madame Catalogna last night. You know, the lady I saw him with.” She sighed. “It did not go well. It was not at all like I planned. So now I intend to speak with the lady herself.”