The Demure Debutante - a Regency Novella

by Caylen McQueen

  Dreaming of him was all she could ever do.

  Her mother's voice interrupted Arthur's reading. “I might be catching a chill. Will you take me back inside?”

  “Of course.” Arthur leapt to his feet and smacked a few blades of grass from his breeches. He tightened Augusta's shawl around her shoulders, and the brief contact with his hand made the older woman's eyelids flutter dreamily. Emilia had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. At least her mother would understand her suffering! Emilia wondered how many women Arthur had inflicted with the pain of unrequited love. “Are you coming, Emilia?”

  “I think I'll stay here awhile longer.”

  Arthur gave her a nod, then steered her mother's Bath chair toward the house. Emilia turned her attention back to her book, pleased that her concentration improved upon Arthur's absence. As much as she enjoyed his company, the distraction he provided was not always a welcome one.

  Emilia was alone, but not for long. Shortly after Arthur and her mother disappeared, she heard someone whisper, “Miss Harcourt...”

  Emilia's eyes leapt from the book and scanned her surroundings. When she saw Brittley Christian's face peering at her from behind the tree, her shoulders tensed. “Mr. Christian?!” she exclaimed. “What are you--?!”

  Brittley swept forward and grabbed her hand. “I needed to see you. Ever since we parted ways, you're all I've been able to think about.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it several times. She might have pulled her hand away, but she was in a daze.

  He sat right next to her, so she scooted away from him. “Mr. Christian, I'm not sure it's proper for you to accost me like this!”

  “But I needed to see you.”

  Emilia glanced around nervously, fearing that Arthur might return and catch them together. “We should not be alone!” she whispered.

  “Your hair is like spun gold.” As he sang her praises, he stroked a lock of her hair.

  “My hair is drab,” she countered.

  “Your eyes are like emeralds, two precious gems behind a curtain of adorable eyelashes.”

  Emilia had such a low opinion of herself, she did not believe a word he said. “You're really going to pour the butter boat that thick, Mr. Christian?”

  “I speak the truth!” He saw her look down at her book, so he snatched it from her lap and snapped it shut. “You need to know how beautiful you are, Miss Harcourt.”

  Emilia looked down at her hands, which were fidgeting in her lap. “But I'm plain.”

  “You're not! You're a very pretty girl, Emilia. Emilia.” When he repeated her name, he sounded a bit sinister. “I brought a gift for you. I hope that's alright?”

  “I suppose it would depend on the gift, Mr. Christian.”

  Brittley pulled a diamond bracelet from the pocket of his greatcoat. As he held it against her wrist, he grinned. “I think it will look beautiful on you.”

  Emilia nervously chewed her lip. “I think your choice of gift might be slightly inappropriate.”

  “No. It isn't.” He fastened the bracelet to her wrist.

  “I believe it is.” As she stared at the jewelry, Emilia was slack-jawed. She had never owned something so expensive. “I can't accept it!”

  “You will accept it. You don't have a choice!”

  “Well.... I still think it is improper to accept such a gift,” Emilia's voice was wavering as she spoke. “You hardly know me!”

  “But I want to know you,” Brittley said. “And I want to make you mine.”

  “Why?! Why are you so fascinated with me!? I'm nothing special.”

  “And I want to be yours,” Brittley continued, completely ignoring her self-deprecation. “I want to give you my heart.”

  “But I know nothing about you!”

  He moved closer to her, so close that she could feel his breath as he spoke. “What do you want to know about me, my dear? I'm an open book!”

  “I want to know why you think I'm worthy of your time!”

  Brittley's hand returned to her hair. When his finger brushed against her ear, she felt a tingling sensation in her brain, and it wasn't entirely unpleasant. “I already told you why, Emilia. I think you're beautiful. You're innocent and sweet and charming and adorable and... I desperately want to kiss you.”

  “I don't think that's wise.” Emilia swallowed hard. While she knew his behavior was reprehensible, it was nice to be on the receiving end of a man's amorous attentions. He did not seem like an honorable sort of gentleman, but he was handsome, and it was impossible to be unmoved by his passionate confessions.

  “Please, Emilia,” he beseeched her. “Please. Let me kiss you?”

  “I... don't...” In the face of so much passion, her desire to protest was melting away.

  Brittley leaned toward her, slowly closing the gap between them. Emilia closed her eyes in anticipation of his kiss—was she wrong to want it?

  His lips were an inch away from hers when she heard the sound of a clearing throat.

  “AHEM.”

  When she opened her eyes, Arthur was standing over them. Arthur, who was the larger man, seized Brittley by the collar of his greatcoat and dragged him to his feet.

  “Ah... Arthur, old boy!” Brittley chuckled. “What are you doing here?”

  “What are YOU doing here?!” Arthur fired back at him. “You're not welcome!”

  “Aww... that's no way to treat an old friend!” Brittley smacked Arthur's hand from his collar and turned his gaze to Emilia. When they made eye contact, he winked at her.

  “You're no friend of mine.” Arthur's voice was cold and convincing. “I think it's time for you to leave!”

  “Really? But we were just getting to the good bits!”

  “Leave!” Arthur gave his adversary a push. “And if I ever see you talking to Miss Harcourt again, you'll live to regret it!”

  “How very fatherly of you!” Brittley exclaimed. “Or... perhaps you want the lady for yourself?”

  “I am more like her brother, and as her brother, it's my duty to protect her from the likes of you!”

  “Brother,” Brittley repeated with a snort. As he walked away, he murmured under his breath, “then I suppose I'll be soiling your second sister in due time, you pompous prig!”

  When Brittley was gone, Arthur reached down and helped Emilia to her feet. “Don't go near that man,” he cautioned her. “Do you understand me?!”

  Emilia looked down at her feet, abashed. “I didn't. He approached me...”

  “If you see him come around, send him away!” Arthur insisted. “Or call out my name, and I'll send him away! He's not fit to stand in your presence!”

  “But--”

  “No,” Arthur interrupted her. “I'm very serious, Emilia. You have to listen to me, alright? He's a dangerous man, and I'll not have him coming around you!” Arthur coiled his arm around hers and propelled her toward the house. “You need to learn to avoid men like that...”

  “Is that your brotherly advice?” Emilia asked with a roll of her eyes.

  “It is,” Arthur affirmed, completely oblivious to the fact that his words were crushing her heart. “And it's sound advice. I'll not have that man steering you down the wrong path!”

  “He doesn't seem so bad.”

  “He is!” Arthur stopped walking and turned her in his direction. “Emilia, I don't want you to end up like Willow.”

  “And what's wrong with Willow?” Emilia crossed her arms over her chest in defiance. “She seems like someone to admire!”

  “She is. My sister is a good woman... the kindest woman in the world,” Arthur said. “But men didn't always treat her with the respect she deserved... and she let it happen. As her brother, I couldn't stand to see that happen.”

  “I admire Willow,” Emilia insisted. “I see nothing wrong with wanting to emulate her!”

  “Please...” Arthur slipped a finger under Emilia's chin and lifted her head, forcing her to make eye contact with him. “I wouldn't want you to get hurt.” />
  “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Rochefort, but you are not my brother.” She pushed his hand away and stormed off in the direction of the house. “I'll make my own decisions, thank you very much!”

  Chapter Eight

  Edward and Arthur were standing beside the horses, patiently awaiting the arrival of their female companions. When Willow and Emilia finally appeared, they were walking arm-in-arm.

  And Arthur's heart sank.

  “Breeches?!” he exclaimed. As he raked his eyes across Emilia's body, they were filled with disapproval. “Willow, what are you thinking?!”

  “Don't we look fetching?” As Willow struck a pose, she gave the younger girl a reassuring wink. Both women were dressed identically, in buckskins, top-boots, gentlemen's shirts and—oddly enough—a lady's spencer. “I told Emilia I'm not comfortable riding sidesaddle... that it's much easier to ride like a man. Her curiosity was piqued, so I let her borrow some of my clothes!”

  Arthur cast a hopeless glance in Edward's direction, as if hoping he would say something. “I'm... speechless,” Arthur grumbled. To Edward, he added, “She's your sister. Surely you can't approve of this?”

  “And Willow is your sister,” Edward pointed out. “You seem content enough to let her get away with it.”

  “Willow is a bit... headstrong. I know I cannot prevent her from doing whatever she wishes,” Arthur ruefully reported. “However, I'm not entirely comfortable with the idea of Emilia becoming her protege.”

  Edward gave him an encouraging slap on the arm. “Well, as you said, she's my sister. I see nothing wrong with letting her have a bit of fr-fr-freedom.” When he felt Willow pinching his rear end, he hoped her brother would not notice. Lately, it seemed to be her favorite place to pinch him.

  “What if someone should happen to see you like this, Emilia? I would not want them to get the wrong impression of you!” Arthur exclaimed.

  “And what would they think? That I'm a hoyden? That I enjoy a relaxing ride? You really need to lighten up, Mr. Rochefort!” As she spoke, Emilia swiftly mounted her horse. She had to admit: wearing a man's breeches made the task much less difficult.

  “Besides,” Willow added, “I have been riding many times, and I never encounter anyone! Our nearest neighbor is very far. Don't listen to my brother, Emilia. He has uttered the same words to me more times than I can count!”

  As he mounted his horse, Arthur heaved a sigh of defeat. He already knew there was nothing he could say to get them to change their minds. Another word of protest would simply be a waste of breath.

  When everyone had mounted up, they headed toward the brook, which happened to be the same direction Emilia had taken when she got lost. However, with so many people accompanying her, she knew she had nothing to fear. She was sure Willow and Arthur could navigate the area much more efficiently than she could.

  “I can't believe we're getting married in four days!” Willow exclaimed. “Four days! I don't think I've ever been so excited in my life!”

  “Nor I,” Edward agreed. He was excited—and nervous. The closer they got to their wedding day, the more he could feel his nerves mounting. Having no experience in the bedroom was an intimidating privation. What if he wasn't the lover she wanted him to be?

  “All I can think about is what a lucky woman I am!” Willow declared. “I will have the kindest, most charming husband in the entire world!”

  “And I'll have the most beautiful, loving, caring wife.”

  As she watched them exchange adoring glances, Emilia caught herself frowning. She desperately wanted to feel the fervor of love. More specifically, she wanted someone to feel the fervor of love for her. Emilia wondered what it would be like to be the most important person in the world to someone, to feel as if her presence was a necessity. She wanted someone to feel as if it was impossible to live without her.

  When she sneaked a glance at Arthur, she caught him staring at her. As soon as their eyes made contact, he looked away. How often did his eyes wander to her, she wondered. Did it mean anything, or was he simply disapproving of her choice of attire? Either way, his brotherly feelings for her were becoming an annoyance.

  “I do love it out here!” Willow declared. “Although, if I was alone, I would be riding much faster than this!”

  “If I was alone, I would probably be riding much slower,” Edward said with a chuckle. “I am not the most skilled r-r-rider.”

  Willow leaned across her horse and pinched Edward's arm. His stammer had greatly improved, but she was starting to doubt it would ever disappear.

  “I'm glad you haven't given up on me, Willow,” Edward said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean... you haven't chalked me up as a hopeless case! I'm still stuttering, and you're still pinching. I'm glad you haven't lost your patience with me.”

  “Never! I would only stop pinching you if you asked me to.”

  “And that will never happen!” Edward grinned at her. “I have already confessed that I secretly enjoy your pinches.”

  “And I secretly enjoy your stammer,” Willow admitted. “I think it's quite cute, actually. And charming. And adorable. It makes me want to pinch your cheeks and cradle you in my arms!”

  Edward chuckled. “Careful, Willow. If I start thinking you enjoy it that much, you'll make me regress!”

  “Even if you overcome it completely, Edward, you can rest assured... I will still want to hold you and cradle you forever! As adorable as you are, you're simply impossible to resist!”

  They rode beyond the brook and into the trees, where a cacophony of bird song enlivened their journey. For the duration of their ride, Emilia and Arthur were forced to endure the couple's flirtatious banter. Emilia closed her eyes and tried to drown them out. The more she listened to them, the more her blatant lack of love was painfully felt. However, as much as she envied them, she was happy her brother had been so blessed.

  When she opened her eyes, she tried to steal another glimpse of Arthur. As handsome as he was, staring at him was a difficult temptation to resist. Alas, he was nowhere to be found.

  Where did he go?!

  “Um... Willow?”

  But Willow did not hear her. Either that, or she was too busy tousling Edward's hair.

  “WILLOW!” Emilia shouted, which seemed to do the trick. She finally seized the widow's attention away from Edward.

  “What is it, Emilia?”

  “Your brother,” Emilia was careful not to sound too panicked. “He's gone.”

  “Gone?!” Willow's head swiveled in every direction, desperately seeking her brother. “Did he wander off?! Why on earth...”

  “I don't know,” Emilia said. “My eyes were closed for a moment... the next time I opened them, he was gone.”

  “Arthur!” Willow shouted, though perhaps a bit too loudly, because her horse reared slightly. “Arthur, where are you?!”

  They waited for a response, but none came.

  “What if something happened to him?” Emilia asked. “What if he got lost? What if he wandered off an got attacked by highwaymen?!”

  Willow chuckled at the prospect. “I think it's highly unlikely that he got lost or attacked. Trust me, Arthur can take care of himself. I wouldn't be too alarmed... I'm sure he'll turn up eventually.”

  Emilia nervously chewed her lip. “Shouldn't we go looking for him?!”

  “Don't worry, Emilia. He'll find his way back. I promise.”

  Emilia brought her horse to a halt. She didn't feel comfortable soldiering on when a member of their entourage had vanished. “Wait. Willow... can we wait here for a moment? What if he's looking for us?”

  Willow turned her horse and headed back to Emilia, so Edward followed suit. “Very well,” Willow said. “We can wait for a moment, if it would make you feel better.”

  “Arthur!” Emilia shrieked. “Mr. Rochefort, are you alright?!”

  “Quite alright!” Emilia's heart swelled when she heard his reply. “Wait right there... I'll be returni
ng shortly.”

  A few seconds later, when Emilia saw Arthur weaving his way through the forest, she was simultaneously filled with relief and frustration. How dare he make her worry about him?! If she was a braver woman, she would have given him the tongue-lashing of his life!

  “Where did you go, Arthur?!” Willow hollered at him.

  “The field of wildflowers.” As he drew near, Emilia could see a fistful of flowers in his hand. When he held them out to her, Emilia's heart was momentarily frozen. “Here. These are for you, Emilia.”

  “I--”

  “The other day, you said you lost your flowers,” Arthur explained. “I remembered... so I wanted to get some for you.”

  As she took the flowers from his hand, Emilia swore her heart was trying to beat its way out of her chest. “Thank you, Arthur. I will... treasure them.” Emilia studied the flowers with tears in her eyes. There were several sunflowers, as if he somehow knew those were her favorite. Her cheeks were flaming hot; she could only hope they hadn't changed color.

  “Do you like them?” Arthur asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

  “I do. Very much.”

  As soon as their journey resumed, Willow rode alongside her brother. When he saw her shaking her head at him, he asked, “Is something wrong?”

  “Flowers, Arthur?!” Willow hissed at him. She kept her voice low, so that only her brother could hear her. “What are you playing at? I thought you didn't care for the girl?”

  “I do care for her,” Arthur whispered. “Of course I do.”

  “I meant.. in a romantic sense,” Willow explained. “I thought she was like a sister to you?”

  “She is, in a way.”

  “Then you shouldn't be giving her flowers! Don't you understand?!” Willow shook her head at him. “Showing up with a handful of flowers is a romantic gesture... and the poor girl already cares for you a great deal. You need better judgment, or she's liable to get the wrong idea!”