Sweet Summer Kisses

by Erin Knightley

  She smiled. “Thank you, Your Grace. But no one is immune from the temptation of vanity, even those of us with little to be vain about.”

  There it was again, the subtle hint that she was less than worthy of admiration. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her so hard she’d never doubt herself again. But he couldn’t, at least not in the presence of their mothers and a hundred other theater guests. But he would soon. Perhaps after the Assembly the following night, which would be in two days’ time.

  Chapter 5

  25 July 1817

  Laura Square

  Somerset, Bath

  Late afternoon

  “Miles, you are returned! I hope you enjoyed yourself at the Gardens with Miss MacPherson today.” Lady Aylesbury peered down at him from the top of the stairs.

  Miles smiled up at his mother from the foyer and handed his cane, hat, and coat to the butler. “I did indeed, Mother. I am pleased to announce that I have at last proven myself master of the Labyrinth, even to Miss MacPherson’s satisfaction. And the orchestra was playing Handel, which reminded us greatly of Vauxhall, although not so crowded.”

  He took the stairs two at a time and upon reaching the top, threw his arms around his mother and hoisted her up in his arms before planting a kiss on her cheek.

  “I shan’t be needing much for dinner, as we consumed rather a hearty tea at the Tavern while we listened to the concert.”

  He cocked his head and studied her face. “And you? Did you and Mrs. MacPherson have a pleasant day at the Baths? You haven’t been overtaxing yourself, have you?”

  “I did have a bit of a cough, but the waters calmed me down considerably, and I am well enough now.” Taking his arm, she drew him into the nearest drawing room and closed the door.

  “You know, Miles, you have been showing particular attention to Miss MacPherson of late, and I have been wondering—well, if you must know, all of Bath must be wondering—what your intentions are toward her.”

  “Mother…” Frankly, Miles himself was wondering the same thing. He liked her a great deal more than any other lady he knew, and could even imagine himself wed to her. Her mother, although presumptuous at times—what matchmaking mama wasn’t?—purported to be an amicable mother-in-law, and the friendship that had sparked between the two mothers seemed all that was natural and genuine. He hadn’t met the father, but Rebecca seemed genuinely fond of him, so he didn’t anticipate any problems there. But the sisters… could he tolerate having the Golden Twins as his sisters-in-law? For the rest of his life?

  Rebecca seemed to be genuinely fond of them, and she wasn’t the type to lavish her affection on the unworthy. She had remarked that both of her sisters seemed to be focused on their burgeoning families these days rather than running themselves ragged on the London social circuit, although Alice, by virtue of her husband’s close association with the Regent, found it necessary to make occasional appearances there.

  The duchess led him to a chair and sat down on a settee across from him. “I know. I find it extremely unpleasant to be the sort of mother who pesters her son about his responsibilities. I certainly never intended to be. I’ve always believed that a gentleman should not marry until he meets the young lady he recognizes as the one he cannot live without.”

  Miles fidgeted in his seat. “And you believe Miss MacPherson might be the one?”

  His mother stared down at her hands. “I wish I did not have to ask.” Her chin trembled. “I wish I could say my only wish for you was to find happiness in marriage as your father and I did, no matter how long it takes. But—it seems I have a selfish streak after all.”

  She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, and he rose urgently and set himself at her side, his arm cradling her to his chest.

  “You mustn’t say so, Mother. You are the least selfish mother who ever lived. I loathe the fact that this blasted disease will one day take you away from me and that you will likely not see your grandchildren grown. And I—I am not unwilling to marry, you know.”

  She drew his face down and kissed his cheek. “A more dutiful son I could never have wished for,” she said, placing her small hand on his chest. “But I know that, if circumstances were otherwise, you would sail off around the world as your father intended you to do and wait to settle down until you had done your fill of explorations.”

  She leaned back and threw her hands up in the air. “What am I saying? I don’t know what to say! I begin by encouraging you to marry speedily and then I find myself begging you to do what you need to in order to be happy. Forgive me, Miles! I shan’t say anymore on the subject! You must do as you please and not mind me or anyone else.”

  She rose and kissed the top of his head. “I shall have dinner in my room tonight. You may join me if you wish. Do not forget that the MacPherson ladies are joining us for dinner on Tuesday evening.” And she was gone.

  Miles stared after her, wondering what had just occurred. It would be so easy to wed Rebecca and make his mother happy. And he thought marriage to her might be rather pleasant. But their acquaintance was of such short duration—a matter of weeks, really—that he couldn’t be sure if he cared for her the way his parents had cared for each other.

  And Rebecca didn’t know about his history with Arabella.

  He sighed deeply and headed for the study.

  “Whisky, Your Grace? Or will it be brandy this time?” inquired an attentive footman.

  “Whisky.” Miles was tempted to ask for the whole bottle, but then he recalled his assertion to Rebecca that he didn’t drink excessively. He smiled and shook his head. “No, make that coffee instead. I must keep a clear head these days.”

  ~*~

  26 July 1817

  MacPherson Townhouse

  Queen Square

  Bath, Somerset

  “Oh my dear, you do look well in the blue satin. If it weren’t so plain, though! The gold silk with the green overdress simply glitters with gold bows—well, I daresay the duke would be swept off his feet!”

  Her mother was probably right, Rebecca reflected in exasperation. The stiff bows on the bodice would send him flying if he should so much as attempt to kiss her. And she did want him to kiss her, proposal or no proposal.

  Rebecca shook her head. “The ballroom will be sizzling—it is July, you know—and I shan’t wish to give the appearance of a roasted pig basting over the fire.”

  Mrs. MacPherson wrinkled her nose. “I wish you would not belittle yourself so, Rebecca. You may not have your sisters’ striking looks, but you are attractive enough in your own way.”

  Rebecca’s mouth fell open and she stared at her mother’s image in the full-length mirror.

  Her mother placed a rope of pearls over her head and wrapped it several times around her neck, fussing over each strand until it gave the perfect impression of cool nonchalance.

  “Close your mouth, dear. I’ve suspected for quite some time that your failure to attract attention derives from your own perception of yourself as a poor imitation of your sisters.”

  Rebecca closed her mouth, but continued to stare incredulously at her mother. Was this really her mother?

  “Yes indeed. I didn’t always see it, I admit, but you have a depth that is sadly lacking in poor Alice and Arabella. A generosity of spirit. Oh yes, you do! I’ve not seen it often, but when you are in the company of the duke, your conversation is natural and animated, and you have a glow about you that draws people to you. You may be certain that dear Miles is acutely aware of it.”

  Feeling disoriented, Rebecca swayed on her feet. Her mother pulled her toward the dressing table.

  “Sit. Beaton, you may as well begin with the hair. I have some pearl drops that I think will compliment the pearls quite nicely.”

  She bustled out of the room, leaving her daughter to reflect on what had just occurred.

  Had her mother really attributed a quality to her that was missing in her sisters? Rebecca had always perceived herself a disappointment to her mother, who was a
lways fussing over the Golden Twins and basking in the glow of their success. She’d felt closer to her father—who made no bones about his own preference—and had often in her childhood wished she’d been born a male and therefore not susceptible to unfavorable comparisons with her sisters. Once her tomboy days were over, though, she had reluctantly acquiesced to taking her place as the disappointing third MacPherson sister.

  And that had been the fatal mistake.

  Mrs. MacPherson returned with the earrings, each with a large pearl stud and a single smaller pearl dangling beneath. Elegant, but understated. Not at all in her mother’s taste.

  She turned a startled face toward her mother. “Where did you get these? I’ve never seen them before.”

  Her mother held them up to her earlobes and smiled. “These belonged to your MacPherson grandmother. She died when you were small, but she wanted them to go to you, for your wedding day. But I think she would approve of your wearing them tonight, don’t you?”

  Flooded with a sense of confidence, Rebecca rather thought she would as well.

  Thank you, Grandmama, for believing I belonged to this family. How did I never see it before?

  Chapter 6

  Later that evening

  The Bath Assembly Rooms

  Bath, Somerset

  Did every gentleman suffer the fidgets prior to making a young lady an offer of marriage?

  Miles closed his eyes and attempted to clear his mind of of his worries. He didn’t expect that she would refuse his offer; he thought they had a good rapport and that he had communicated the serious nature of his attentions to her during the past several weeks. Not quite three weeks, he reflected, since she had landed in his lap in the nave of Bath Abbey. The spontaneous nature of their meeting seemed to have eliminated the stiff propriety associated with a proper introduction, and their connection had quickly progressed to intimate friendship.

  Still, it hadn’t yet been a month since then, no matter how well he felt he knew her. If it weren’t for her impending departure from Bath, he would have waited. Perhaps invited her and her family to Buckinghamshire? Then he could show her around Aylesbury Court and watch her golden-brown eyes sparkle with delight when she saw what he’d done with the place. And, of course, he could properly ask permission from her father first

  His face went slack at the sudden thought that her family—and his future one—included her sisters, the infamous Golden Twins. It was enough that he would be required to endure their presence at family events for the rest of his life; he certainly would not wish them to be anywhere around when he made his proposal of marriage to Rebecca. He was aware that she saw herself as less worthy than they. If she only knew how close he had come to being compelled to marry one of them—he stiffened. He hadn’t mentioned that particular episode to her, and she surely deserved to know. But… what if she took the notion that his intention in marrying her was to spite Arabella? The idea had briefly occurred to him on their first meeting, but had been quickly abandoned as his admiration for Rebecca herself intensified. Not to mention the fact that she would be saddened to discover his true feelings for her beloved sisters.

  Somewhere above him a door opened and closed, and the sound of rustling fabrics and delicate footsteps heralded the appearance of the ladies. He felt his heartbeat quickening at the sight of Rebecca pausing at the top of the stairs, a vision of loveliness in her gown of cornflower blue. She smiled when she saw him and her face lit up with pleasure.

  “Good evening, Your Grace,” she said as she descended. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting. We had a last-minute problem with a torn hem.”

  “A matter of mere minutes,” he responded, “that only heightened the anticipation of seeing you again.” He bowed elegantly. “And, if I may so, seeing you in such fine looks makes it entirely worth the wait.”

  A deep flush crept across her face—the dear girl was not accustomed to such compliments—and she stumbled on the last few steps and would have fallen had he not rushed forward to catch her in his arms.

  “Oh no!”

  It was only then that he became aware of the presence of the ladies behind her, specifically, her mother and a maid carrying a white, lace-edged shawl.

  He held her against him rather longer than he should have, relishing the intimacy of the moment and confirming in his mind that his decision to wed her was the right one.

  “Are you injured?” He demanded as he carefully set her on her feet once more.

  She shook her head and gave a weak smile. “Not at all. It’s a habit of mine—making dramatic entrances, that is.”

  That’s my girl—seeing the humor in such situations!

  “Thank you for being there to catch me, though. Do I need to make any adjustments in my appearance?”

  That last remark was not intended for him, but he took the opportunity to examine her from the ribbon in her dark curls to her white satin shoes.

  “I can see nothing at all objectionable,” he said, moving closer to gaze into her eyes.

  Mrs. MacPherson cleared her throat, a clear warning that he was not to overstep the boundaries of propriety.

  After the ladies were properly wrapped and bonneted, Miles offered an arm to each of them and led them to the crested carriage where his mother waited, and soon they were off to Bennett Street.

  ~*~

  The chandeliers were glowing brightly as they entered the Upper Assembly Room, already crowded even while the last moments of daylight still lit up the windows. Rebecca tried to tamp down her growing excitement, but the tingling she felt throughout her body refused to obey the half-hearted commands of her head.

  The older ladies excused themselves, declaring an urgent need for punch in view of the overwhelming heat of the ballroom. After Rebecca assured Miles she was well as she was and quite able to dance, he took her in his arms and they joined the waltzing dancers on the floor.

  As always when they danced, Rebecca marveled at the graceful fluidity of Miles’s movements. Since partnering with him, her own dancing had become more assured and natural, even when she danced with others. Perhaps that accounted for her sudden popularity among the gentlemen. Or perhaps it was due to the utter lack of self-consciousness in her manner since the advent of Miles in her life. In any case, the new Rebecca MacPherson no longer huddled in obscurity behind columns and potted plants and wished herself at home with her books. It was a heady feeling to realize the power she had over her own reception at social events.

  Thanks to Miles, she had finally come into her own.

  They were good together. He was the man for her, and she rather thought he reciprocated her feelings. She would have preferred the luxury of more time in Bath so that she could reassure herself of his willingness to tie himself down, but Arabella’s babe wasn’t likely to delay much longer, and she thought that if he did propose, she’d eagerly take the risk.

  She danced every dance, as did he, although no more than the proper limit of two dances with each other. It was exhilarating to notice his eyes following her around the floor even while whirling around with other young ladies. She herself managed to respond appropriately to her partners’ remarks in spite of her own mind’s focus on the object of her affection.

  Shortly after eleven o’clock, Miles approached her with two glasses of wine.

  “It’s rather close in here at the moment. What do you say we take a turn about the garden for some fresh air?”

  Rebecca’s heart leapt. “It is warm tonight,” she agreed, fanning her face enthusiastically before accepting the drink.

  To get to the garden, one had to pass through the card room, which gave Rebecca the eerie feeling that their exodus to the garden was duly observed by every pair of eyes in the room.

  “You needn’t worry,” Miles reassured her as he let the door fall closed behind her. “We shall remain right here next to the lamp post so that the old biddies can have no reason to censure us for impropriety.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Do no
t deceive yourself. What they do see will be embellished beyond all recognition tomorrow.”

  “Well, in that case,” he said with a smile, “I shall not kiss you until after you’ve agreed to marry me. Because if I kissed you now, under the lamplight, you would have no choice but to marry me, and that would spoil the occasion forever.”

  Rebecca was dumbstruck. Was that a proposal? Or the prelude to it?

  Miles cleared his throat. “What a bone-headed thing to say! I wanted It’s just that—well, I was so determined to make this a special night—one that we could look back on fondly and tell our children someday—and then I go and say something ridiculous.”

  He looked so disappointed and woebegone that she couldn’t help laughing, feeling giddy at the sudden release of tension.

  He looked startled at first, and then joined her, reaching out to grasp both of her hands. “I take it I’m forgiven, then? You were intending to say yes, after all? If you aren’t certain yet—we haven’t been acquainted very long—we can postpone the wedding for a few months so that you need not feel rushed.”

  She reached up and covered his mouth with her gloved hand. “May I make a suggestion?”

  He nodded.

  “Before we set any wedding dates or engage in discussions about children, perhaps it would be good if you were to—um—propose?”

  He bit back a laugh and brought her hand to his lips before dropping to one knee.

  “What a muddle I have made of things! Well, no matter, I shall have to make it up to you later.”

  Reaching into the pocket of his waistcoat, he drew out a beautiful ring, a sizable sapphire surrounded by diamonds and held it out to her.

  “Dear Rebecca, I have come to admire and care for you more each day since the time you dropped into my lap. I would be exceedingly happy if you would consent to marry me and be my duchess.”

  “Not a fool at all,” she said through teary eyes. “Yes, Miles. I would be honored to be your wife.”