Love Birds: The Complete Collection

by Ruth J. Hartman

  Percy lowered his eyelids until they were nearly closed and peered at Barrington. “You need to find a wife and bed her. Before it’s too late.”

  After retrieving his handkerchief from his pocket, Barrington mopped the wetness from his coat, catching a stray drop that dangled from the end of his cravat. “I fail to see how my fathering anyone is your concern.”

  “Of course it’s my concern. Who else’s would it be?”

  Barrington closed his eyes briefly. “I would think it would be mine and that of the… uh… woman in question.”

  “So there is a woman, then.”

  “I never said that.”

  “You most certainly did.”

  “Percy…” He’s a corked-brain idiot, but I do love him.

  “There must be something about Martha that you find not to your liking. Otherwise, wouldn’t you be wed by now?”

  Barrington could overlook Martha’s childish ways if she’d at least been honest with him. That was the one thing he couldn’t get past.

  “I’m certain if you look around hard enough you’ll find the woman of your heart.”

  “How would you know Martha isn’t that woman?”

  “When I observe you together, you don’t seem…” Percy shrugged.

  “Seem, what?”

  “You’re not a good match.”

  Barrington frowned. “But it’s as you said. I’ve known her forever.”

  “That has nothing to do with being a good match.”

  “And I suppose you’ll tell me what it does have to do with?”

  “Thought you’d never ask.” Percy set his empty glass on a side table. “There’s an elemental difference between men and women.”

  Heat crawled up his neck. “Anyone knows that.”

  “I’m not talking about the physical difference. Although that can be delightful. Did you ever watch a pair of bats when they’re courting?”

  “Thankfully, no.” The man has lost his mind. “I fail to see what that has to do with anything. Why don’t we stay within the confines of humans, shall we?”

  “If we must. Though it isn’t nearly as much fun to discuss.”

  Barrington tapped the toe of his boot on the floor.

  “Very well. Men are physical beings. We observe something, decide whether or not we like it, and either take it for our own or walk away.”

  “And women?” I can’t believe I’m asking for his advice. Am I that desperate?

  “Women are emotional. They hear your meaning when you say something, even if you didn’t intend to say it. They crave attention. Not just from anyone, but from that certain someone.”

  Barrington frowned. Martha craved attention, period. Didn’t appear to matter if it was from him or anyone else. “Go on.”

  “When a man and woman meet and have certain chemistry, if you will, something happens.”

  Good heavens, he had no desire to discuss something of that nature with his uncle. “I know all about—”

  Uncle Percy waved his hand. “No, no. There you go thinking like a man, again.”

  “Well I am a man, Percy.”

  “Of course you are. Don’t be daft.”

  I’m daft?

  “When you meet someone new, take the time to really watch her, listen to her, allow yourself to give her a chance.”

  “A chance for what?”

  “To become someone special. Sometimes the most special people in our lives aren’t even someone we’d give a second thought to when we first make their acquaintance.”

  His uncle was actually making some sense.

  Have I perhaps misjudged him?

  Percy hurried to the window again. “Oh, splendid. Now the squirrel has a lady friend out there with him. Think he’ll bed her? He may have to trim that beard first.”

  With a deep sigh, Barrington refilled his own glass.

  No, perhaps not.

  Chapter Two

  Cecilia Fletcher rolled her eyes. Why did her mother have to be so unbending? All Cecilia wanted to do was to help her father when he went out to supervise the grooms with the new horses. Was that too much to ask?

  Her mother glowered at her father. “There’s no need for her to gallivant around this estate. She should stay here in the cottage.” She focused dark blue eyes on Cecilia. “And know her place.”

  Hadn’t they had the same conversation yesterday? Every day lately? With a sigh, Cecilia sat down at the small kitchen table, folded her hands in her lap, and waited.

  “Mary.” Cecilia’s father took a step closer to Mama. “I want her to experience everything there is to know about Lord Lofton’s estate. I think it’s good for her. She’s young. Let her enjoy it.”

  Cecilia silently clapped her hands together under the table.

  “Well, Andrew, I don’t agree.” Her mother’s head only came to Papa’s chest but her strong will gave the impression that she was enormous.

  A frown crossed Cecilia’s face. The victorious feeling hadn’t lasted long. She grasped her hands together again.

  Papa crossed his arms over a broad chest. The injured hand still sported angry red scars even though several months had passed since a horse had trampled him. He could do a few simple things with the hand, but had had to give up his vocation of being a surgeon-dentist.

  Cecilia still missed helping him there, getting to talk to all of the different people who came to visit her father for relief from mouth pain. It had been interesting and exciting.

  And being around some of the more well-heeled patients who came to the office gave her a good idea of how they spoke and acted. If only she could somehow put that knowledge to good use. But now that she was no longer around anyone other than family, how was she to meet a potential husband?

  She glanced at her mother, who now tapped her foot rapidly against the wooden floor. But Mama wanted Cecilia to stay inside the cottage with her all day, peeling vegetables and doing her bidding. Wasn’t that why they had the maid that Cecilia’s brother Conrad had so generously given them?

  “Last I checked I’m still the man of this house. Cecilia comes with me.”

  A loud harrumph shot out from Mama’s lips. Without another word, she whipped around, stormed to the back of the house and slammed their bedroom door. That was becoming a daily habit. Cecilia looked at her father, who shook his head.

  “Well, my girl, guess we should be thankful she has the energy to make such a rumpus, shouldn’t we?”

  She stood and walked to him. “Yes, Papa. We should.” As sick as her mother had been for all those months, they’d wondered if she’d even survive. After they’d moved from their drafty old house behind her father’s surgeon-dentist building to the Lofton Estate cottage, though, her mother made a quick recovery.

  For that, Cecilia was thankful.

  Even though Mama is often moody and difficult to deal with.

  Cecilia grabbed her pelisse from the hook by the door and followed Papa outside. The warm sun took away some of the chill of the early spring breeze. Soon colorful flowers would poke their heads through the hard ground, bringing with them the welcome warmer weather.

  Cecilia and her father walked side by side, their boots crunching on dead leaves that had been trapped beneath bush branches during the winter and now littered the path. They reached the opening in the tall hedge. It amused her that her father always had to duck his head when they passed beneath the top of the wrought iron gate.

  “Good day.”

  Cecilia raised her gaze and saw her half-brother, Conrad Croome, the Earl of Lofton Manor. He waved and quickened his steps until he reached them.

  “Good day, Conrad.” Cecilia curtseyed. When others were near, she addressed him as Lord Lofton since they had no wish for anyone to know of their family connection. Conrad, she knew, wished he could acknowledge her as his sister and Papa as his real father. But if he did, he might lose his title. And wealth.

  And she and her parents would be out of a home.

  Conrad’s light blu
e eyes, so like Cecilia’s, were nearly closed against a bright ray of sunlight. “Cecilia. It’s lovely to see you today.” He then addressed Papa. “Andrew, I’m pleased to see you as well.”

  Papa smiled. They’d agreed that Conrad’s address to him as Andrew made more sense than Father, as Conrad was raised by Lord Lofton, now deceased. Everyone who knew Conrad thought that he was a true earl. “Have you come to watch your grooms with the new horses? That’s where we’re headed.”

  “I do want to observe them. But…” He switched his gaze to Cecilia. “There’s another matter I wish to discuss with you.”

  “With me?” Cecilia placed her hand against her chest.

  “With both of you.” Conrad pointed at the horse stables. “Let’s discuss it as we walk, shall we?”

  Cecilia’s heart thumped hard. What does he wish to discuss? With me? Rarely asked her opinion about anything, Cecilia hoped she’d have something valuable to contribute to the conversation instead of being perceived as the baby sister that she was.

  Papa’s face paled as he touched Conrad’s sleeve. “What’s this about? Something to do with the estate?” Was he afraid that Conrad might have changed his mind? That he’d ask them all — Papa, Mama, and Cecilia — to leave the cottage?

  “I have something in mind that I hope will be of both benefit and enjoyment to Cecilia.” Conrad smiled.

  Enjoyment? “Me?”

  “Sister, you are of appropriate age for a come-out.”

  “No… I don’t think…” Does he truly have plans for me? What man would be interested in her? Hadn’t Mama always told her she wasn’t pretty or special in any way?

  Papa cleared his throat. “Pardon me, Conrad, but I’m not sure I heard you correctly.”

  “Yes, I believe you did.”

  “But Cecilia is… We are not…” His face regained its color and an added tinge of pink touched his cheeks. “We are not in your class.”

  “That matters not to me. This is something I very much want to do. To sponsor my sister for a season.”

  “But, why?” That sounded ungrateful. Not at all what Cecilia had intended.

  Conrad stopped and turned to face them fully. “Because I love you. And because I can. It’s up to Andrew, of course, but I’d hoped for a brighter future for you, Cecilia. Perhaps you would meet someone who could benefit…” He glanced away, the breeze ruffling his blond hair from beneath his hat.

  She placed her hand on his sleeve. “That’s so sweet, Conrad. Thank you. I… I’m not sure what Mama and Papa would want, though.” I know what I want. What Conrad suggests would be a dream.

  Andrew took a step toward Conrad. “Such a gesture would be so generous of you, son. But have you thought about how it would be possible? Cecilia doesn’t have the right clothes, doesn’t have much experience with manners and etiquette that those of your set do.”

  Conrad turned back. “I’ve thought it all through. Trust me. As far as the clothing, Amelia has a Mantua-maker that she loves for her own dresses and it would be no problem to have her make some for Cecilia. She can also instruct her on everything she’ll need to know to succeed.”

  “Your new wife wouldn’t mind?”

  “On the contrary, Amelia is terribly excited about the prospect of helping Cecilia with everything. Learning the proper manners, etiquette, and dance steps.”

  “Dance?” The only dancing Cecilia had ever done was when Papa used to play his fiddle and she would whirl around the room to the music. Of course with his injured hand, he could no longer do even that.

  Conrad took Cecilia’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before releasing it. “Yes, dance. I’ve not told you all of this to worry you. I want you to have fun, to experience some things that you might not otherwise have been able to.”

  Cecilia watched her father. Would his feelings be hurt because Conrad could provide for her better than he could? Papa smiled though, and she let out a sigh.

  “Thank you, son. That’s most thoughtful. I was just telling Mary earlier that I want Cecilia to get out and do more. Have some fun while she’s young.”

  “I’m pleased you agree. Of course, I wouldn’t have gone through with the plans had you not.”

  So it was going to happen? Shock rolled through Cecilia. She was to have a come-out. Her. A glance down at her faded dress and old boots made it seem impossible. Yet Conrad, with his wealth and title, had influence where Cecilia and her parents had none. Would never have any.

  But… new dresses, dancing, possibly meeting someone to marry? Never, never had she even dreamed about anything like that. How could a poor daughter of an injured surgeon-dentist even have hoped to live a life of anything but drudgery and doldrums?

  Conrad. It was all because of her brother. If Cecilia hadn’t noticed the resemblance between Papa and Conrad months ago when they’d first met in Papa’s shop… And of course, if Papa hadn’t thought he’d recognized Conrad’s mother, Miriam, when she’d accompanied Conrad that first visit… Oh, how different their lives would be right now.

  Cecilia trailed behind her father and brother as they resumed their walk to the stables.

  What sort of men will I meet at the dance?

  Chapter Three

  Barrington took the hat from his valet. “Thank you, Daniel.”

  “Very good, sir.” He brushed some lint from Barrington’s shoulder. “If I may, sir, you appear to be anxious for your outing.”

  “Indeed I am. I’m to look at a new horse at the Lofton Estate.”

  “Ah. Then I wish for you a prosperous day.”

  Barrington smiled. “Thank you.” He left his rooms and headed down the staircase. Mathew, the footman, held the door open for his departure. “Thank you, Mathew.”

  “Good day, sir.”

  A groom had readied his carriage. As Barrington climbed into the Barouche, he instructed the coachman to take him to the Lofton Estate.

  I am excited, indeed. Perhaps a new horse is just what I need to chase away the doldrums I’ve been a victim of lately. If only Martha hadn’t lied.

  They’d been having a lovely day with friends, enjoying a carriage ride through Hyde Park. Everyone must have had the same idea, as they passed carriage after carriage of people of their acquaintance. Men on horseback trotted along Rotten Row, skirting around small clumps of warmly dressed walkers.

  With the chill in the air, Martha had nestled close to Barrington, which had knocked her hat askew, allowing a single wisp of her dark hair to escape its confines. He had then made a funny remark that had reduced Martha to giggles. The other couple, the Amesburys, had smiled at them and continued their conversation. Barrington hadn’t spared them much thought as he was enjoying having Martha sit so close.

  But when Mrs. Amesbury included Martha in the conversation and asked her a question, Barrington had been confused by Martha’s sudden redness of face and the way she stammered her answer. She had sat up straight and scooted away from Barrington. The question had seemed perfectly innocent to him, just one person asking another how she’d enjoyed a certain outing.

  Why would an acquaintance asking how she enjoyed her trip to the Tower of London have upset her so? Everyone he knew took pleasure in trips there. The Tower zoo, the nearby Bird Sanctuary. He’d been there countless times himself. Had something happened to Martha that day? Something that had frightened her, or had caused embarrassment?

  It wasn’t until Mrs. Amesbury inquired after the person Martha had accompanied that day, a Mr. Pemberley, that Barrington had suspected something wasn’t as it should have been.

  Color had formed on Martha’s neck then seeped into her chin and cheeks. Barrington had known her long enough to recognize the signs of desire. Then when the date of the outing was stated, he knew, knew without a doubt that he’d been lied to.

  Everything in him wanted to question Martha about Mrs. Amesbury’s remark, but doing so in the presence of the other couple would have been unseemly.

  Later, Barrington finally had the op
portunity to ask Martha about it. The fact that a man other than himself had accompanied her was upsetting enough, although he’d tried to reason it out. Perhaps this Mr. Pemberley was a common acquaintance Martha had with some of her friends who possibly went along that day. Or she was just being kind to a very distant cousin who visited for the weekend? There were any number of explanations and Barrington hoped it was one such reason. Any one of them would do.

  But the date…

  Barrington remembered that day well. He had invited Martha two weeks prior for a whist party with some of their friends for that day. At first, she’d agreed to come, saying it sounded like fun. She was always one to attend something that would lend itself to gaiety. But the morning of the party, she’d sent him a note saying that she was indisposed and could not attend. He’d assumed she was ill and had even sent a note the next day to inquire about her health. After that, he’d not given it another thought.

  Why did she lie?

  He ran his hand down his face, still confused as to what her reasons might have been. Was it so she could have an outing with the other man? Someone she preferred to spend time with over him?

  Rage had pummeled Barrington. For weeks, nothing appeased his harsh thoughts against Martha — and himself, for surely he’d done something to have displeased her. Or was it something he hadn’t done?

  Later, the anger had changed to sadness and hurt. Was there something about Barrington that didn’t appeal to Martha? Was he lacking in some way in her eyes? If that were the case, would he also be lacking in the eyes of any other woman in whom he might someday have an interest?

  There must be something. Why else would she have made up a story so she could be with Mr. Pemberley? Even worse, had Martha lied on previous occasions in order not to spend time with him? Barrington didn’t want to believe it might be true, but he wasn’t sure he’d find it in his heart to believe anything she had to say after that.

  How could he ever be sure?

  Several days had gone by when he’d decided to stop acting like a child and give her a chance to explain. Surely he’d find that it was all very innocent. When Barrington had tried to visit Martha, however, she hadn’t come to the parlor to meet him, wouldn’t answer his messages, and seemed to have halted all contact with him. It had broken his heart. He’d always assumed they would marry one day. His life had taken an unexpected twist.