Love Birds: The Complete Collection

by Ruth J. Hartman

  “So, in the stead of all mankind, I’d like to thank you for putting that bumbling fool in his place.” Lord Lofton inclined his head.

  Lady Lofton laughed. “Conrad, really!” She shook her head and glanced from Barrington to Uncle Percy. “Would you mind introducing your companion, Mr. Radcliff? I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “Certainly. Pardon my oversight.”

  Uncle Percy laughed. “He was otherwise occupied striking scary clowns.”

  Barrington rolled his eyes. “Lord and Lady Lofton, may I present my uncle, Percival Radcliff.”

  Both of the Loftons politely nodded.

  Uncle Percy bowed. “Charmed.”

  “And…” Barrington indicated Miss Fleming. “May I present Miss Fleming.”

  She curtseyed and smiled. “Good day, Mr. Radcliff.”

  Uncle Percy’s grin was wide. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Fleming. Quite pleased.”

  Lord Lofton briefly touched Miss Fleming’s shoulder. “We are very fortunate to have Miss Flet— uh, Fleming staying with us for an extended visit.”

  Uncle Percy blinked, his smile fading, but coming back just as quickly. “That must be enjoyable for all involved.”

  Lady Lofton nodded. “Indeed it is.”

  Uncle Percy peered down at Miss Fleming. “And how are you enjoying London, Miss Fleming?”

  “Oh, it’s… I’m enjoying my visit immensely. Thank you.”

  “Have you done anything new and interesting during your time here?”

  She bit her lip as if unsure how to answer. “Your nephew has been kind enough to escort me to several enjoyable places.”

  “Has he now?” Percy angled a glance to Barrington. “How nice.”

  Barrington held his breath. One never knew what Percy would utter, at what moment or to whom.

  Before he could prevent his uncle from doing the always unexpected, Percy reached out and gently touched Miss Fleming’s hair. “Stunning.”

  Barrington whispered, “Percy, stop that.”

  Miss Fleming’s eyes were wide but she stood as still as a stone.

  “Percy!” Barrington’s voice rose.

  “Oh, nephew, she didn’t mind, did you?”

  Miss Fleming raised an eyebrow and shook her head. A slow smile spread across her face. “Not at all.”

  “Say,” Uncle Percy placed his finger to his chin. “Has anyone ever told you that your hair resembles—?”

  “Percy.”

  “Feathers?”

  Miss Fleming bit her lip and her nostrils flared. Was she holding back laughter? “Um, no. I can honestly say you’re the first.”

  “Splendid!”

  Barrington put a hand on Percy’s shoulders. “Not now.” He darted a glance to Lord and Lady Lofton, who stared at Percy. This won’t do. Not at all! If they find out how mad my relation is, they might not wish for me to spend time with their cousin.

  He gently placed his hand at the small of Miss Fleming’s back and steered her away from Percy. Over his shoulder he said to Lofton, “Say, why don’t we find our way back upstairs to our seats? I think the jugglers will be performing next. That’s not to be missed.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Barrington handed his hat, coat, and gloves to the butler. “Is my uncle at home?”

  “Yes, sir. In the library.”

  “Thank you.” He headed that direction, all the while perplexed as to why Percy wouldn’t have told him of his plans to visit the amphitheatre. The door stood open to the library and Uncle Percy was downing a tumbler of port. Big surprise.

  “Ah, Barrington.” Percy burped and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “How did you enjoy your outing?”

  “I could ask you the same.”

  “It was most exciting, indeed.”

  Barrington stepped closer, waving his hand when Percy held up the port decanter. “You and I had just spoken yesterday of my plans to attend Astley’s Amphitheatre. Did you not decide until after that to visit it yourself?”

  “Oh, no. I’ve known for weeks that I intended to go.”

  “Today?”

  “Why, yes.”

  With a sigh, Barrington sat on a high-backed chair. Did it really matter why his uncle hadn’t said something beforehand that he would be at the same location at the same time? I will never figure that man out.

  “Your Miss Fleming is lovely.”

  “She’s not exactly my Miss Fleming.” Though images of her that passed through his mind made him wish it was true.

  “Rubbish. It was apparent to me how you feel about her. I mean, you struck a clown in her defense, did you not? And it was also apparent of her feelings for you.”

  “You really think so?”

  “That you struck a clown? You mean you didn’t already know? I assumed it quite obvious with your fist at his painted face and him tumbling to the floor.”

  Barrington ran his hand down his face. Why were conversations with his uncle so exhausting? “No, that Miss Fleming cares for me.”

  “Ah, yes. The way her blue eyes sparkled when you spoke to her. How her breath caught when you lightly touched her arm. And the way her bosom heaved when—”

  “That’s quite enough.”

  He shrugged. “You asked, did you not?”

  “Uncle Percy, I’m glad to know you think she cares for me. While I’ll allow that she and I seem a good match when we are together, after what happened with Martha, I’ll admit I’m skittish. How can one really know how another feels unless they come right out and say something?”

  “First of all, Martha wasn’t the right woman for you. Never was.”

  Barrington grumbled, “Would have been nice to know that before I invested several years of my life pursuing her.”

  “There’s your mistake.”

  “And that would be…?”

  “If you have to pursue someone that long and expend so much effort, then it wasn’t meant to be in the first place.” He waved a hand in Barrington’s direction.

  “How do you know that?”

  “As I’ve said before, I have much experience with the fairer sex. If you’d like me to draw you a picture—”

  “No! That’s not necessary.” And I’m not sure I’d ever be the same if I saw what Percy would come up with.

  “Then you’ll just have to take my word.”

  Why not? Could it end any worse than it had with Martha when I was using my own guidance? He nodded.

  “Oh, and about your Miss Fleming, it’s bothered me since I first saw her who she reminds me of.”

  “You mean an acquaintance?”

  “No.”

  “Or perhaps a portrait of one of our ancestors?” Barrington remembered the squirrel and shuddered.

  “Not that, exactly.”

  “Then…” Barrington wound his hand in a circle, waiting for his uncle to finish.

  “I was thinking more along the lines of a Yellow Wagtail.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “It’s a bird. A lovely yellow-feathered fowl. Miss Fleming’s blond hair made me think of—”

  “I understand where you’re headed. But honestly, comparing her to a bird? I still can’t believe you touched her hair and mentioned feathers.”

  Percy stared off wistfully toward the window. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if aside from hair color, Miss Fleming also shared another characteristic for which the Yellow Wagtail is known?”

  I know I’ll regret this. “And that would be what, exactly?”

  “Why, think of the name. Wagtail. Those gregarious little birds have a habit of wagging their tail feathers back and forth when excited.”

  Barrington frowned. “You don’t mean to say that—”

  “How delightful if she, like the bird, wiggled her—”

  “Stop. I’ll not have you disparaging Miss Fleming’s character in my presence.”

  “Who’s disparaging? I think it would be an asset.”

  “Let’s not discuss M
iss Fleming’s assets, all right?”

  “As you wish. I simply thought if you’d consider that aspect of her character, perhaps it would help move you along to the altar and provide me with great-nephews or nieces.”

  Perfect. Now all he could think about was Miss Fleming’s round backside. Barrington Radcliff, get ahold of yourself!

  “Miss Fleming’s tail feathers aside, there’s something about her that doesn’t ring true.”

  Barrington pressed fingers to his temples. “Do I want to know?”

  “Whether or not you wish to know, as your elder, I’m going to tell you.”

  Barrington rubbed his forehead.

  “I know I only spoke to her for a few moments, but something about that girl tells me she’s not what she appears.”

  “Sorry. I don’t follow.”

  “She’s lovely to behold, is friendly and polite, but something is amiss.”

  “Are you going to tell me or not?”

  “The way she kept darting her gaze around, almost retreating into herself like a turtle when a larger crowd stood near.”

  Barrington’s senses were on high alert. “What? What does that mean?”

  “I fear she isn’t who she claims to be.”

  “You mean not Cecilia Fleming? Not Lord Lofton’s cousin? Preposterous.”

  “No, it’s not preposterous. More than once, Lord Lofton fumbled on her surname. Almost as if it wasn’t natural for him to say it.”

  “Perhaps he was just thinking of something else at the moment and confused his words. It happens to everyone.”

  “Not to me.”

  To everyone normal. “Go on.”

  “She appeared to be intimidated by others of the ton. I was sitting several rows behind you and had the opportunity to observe her actions.”

  “You were sitting behind us and said nothing?” He sighed. “No matter. Many people are uncomfortable around them. I’ll admit I don’t always enjoy my time with some of them.”

  “It was more, though. As if she didn’t quite know how to act. It didn’t seem to come naturally.”

  “I think you’re full of pond water, Percy.”

  “You say that like it’s something negative.” The hurt expression he wore was nearly comical.

  “Of course it is. I don’t believe for one minute that Miss Fleming isn’t who she presents herself to be. Why in the world would she lie?”

  Percy shook his head. “You’re only perceiving what you wish to, Barrington.”

  Am I? “No, that’s not true.”

  “In any case, even though I’m sure she isn’t who she says, I still think she’s the right woman for you.”

  “Not that I believe your theory, but if you truly believe your words, why would you still consider her a good match for me?”

  “Because underneath her timidity, her uncertainness and pretending to be someone she’s not, Miss Fleming has a kind heart. A giving soul. A sweetness so ingrained that it couldn’t be made up. No, as far as her personality, she is genuine. Frankly, I don’t think you could do any better than her. If I were you, I’d rush her to the altar and worry about her reasons for lying after the fact.” He downed another drink and thunked the glass down on the sidebar. As he headed from the library, he gave a backward wave.

  Lying? Haven’t I had enough of that from Martha to last a lifetime? But what choice did Barrington have at this point? Percy didn’t make sense on his best day, so why should he be believed?

  Yet… a small doubt, so tiny as to be almost imperceptible, wound its way through Barrington’s mind. If there were anything to what his uncle had just said, what would that mean for a future with Miss Fleming? If she were a liar, like Martha, wouldn’t the end result be the same? Then Barrington would be alone.

  Again.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  “Is Mr. Radcliff to return today?” Leah ran a brush through Cecilia’s hair.

  “Yes. He’ll be here soon.”

  “And your mother is napping?”

  Cecilia nodded. “Let’s hope she stays that way for a while. It’s wearing on my nerves, lying to her, sneaking out while she’s asleep.”

  “What choice is there?”

  “You’re right. It’s either that or not have a chance to acquaint myself with Mr. Radcliff.”

  “Exactly.” Leah swept up Cecilia’s hair and pinned it, leaving only light wisps hanging loose around her face. “There. All finished.”

  “Thank you.” Cecilia stood and gave Leah’s hand a friendly squeeze. “Ready to accompany me downstairs? I think we’re to go for a walk.”

  “Let me get our pelisses.”

  They descended the stairs, Cecilia careful not to step on the hem of her dress. Or trip. Or both. Wouldn’t that be a welcoming sight to Mr. Radcliff, with her sprawled in a heap at the foot of the stairs upon his entrance?

  The butler nodded. “Your caller is here, Miss Fleming.”

  “Thank you.” She wished Giles wouldn’t make such a fuss about the different surname. The last thing she needed was someone alerting Mr. Radcliff to the fact that she wasn’t Lord Lofton’s cousin, but indeed his sister.

  When she and Leah entered the parlor, Mr. Radcliff was there. He stood next to the far window, gazing outside. His hands were clasped behind him, making the muscles in his shoulders stand out beneath his coat.

  Cecilia politely cleared her throat to gain his attention.

  “Miss Fleming, how wonderful you look this day.”

  She curtseyed. “Why thank you, kind sir.” One corner of her mouth rose.

  “Nothing kind about it. It would be impossible for me to speak otherwise. Would you still like to take a walk of the grounds?”

  “Certainly.” She glanced at Leah who nodded and stepped aside so they could exit the parlor and head for the door.

  Once outside, Mr. Radcliff and Cecilia walked along a path that took them past the stables. Leah followed, but at a reasonable distance. They passed the opening to the building, a few stablehands nodding their heads in greeting before resuming their work with the horses.

  Cecilia glanced up at Mr. Radcliff. “How are your new horses faring?”

  “Oh, they are beauties indeed.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “Yes, your cousin has a knack for choosing fine horseflesh. Too bad he doesn’t enjoy riding.”

  She nodded. What could she say? Since Papa had been injured by a horse, Cecilia had no interest in riding, either.

  “I so enjoy taking my horses out every day for some exercise. Is that something you would enjoy, Miss Fleming?”

  “Exercise? Is that not what we’re doing?”

  “Well, yes, but I meant specifically riding horses.”

  “Oh, well…”

  “Do you not ride, Miss Fleming?”

  Her face heated. “I, um… that is…”

  “Sorry to pry.”

  “You’re not. I’ve just never had the opportunity to ride.” Oh no. What would he make of that? Probably everyone he knew rode.

  Mr. Radcliff’s eyebrows rose and then lowered. Seconds later, however, he resumed his pleasant expression. “Perhaps riding isn’t for everyone.”

  “Perhaps.” Let’s discuss something else. Anything else.

  “What occupies your time on any given day, Miss Fleming?”

  Peeling potatoes for Mama, cleaning the cottage for Mama, listening to her whine and complain. “Oh, nothing different from most, I suppose.”

  “Nothing strikes your fancy? Captures your interest?”

  You do. She cleared her throat. “Not that I can think of.”

  “What about books?”

  “Oh yes. Reading romances, of course.”

  “Right. Heroines living by the ocean, desperately trying to decide on what hats they will wear to impress the heroes.”

  She laughed. “So you were paying attention in the book shop.”

  “Naturally. Anything else you enjoy doing besides reading? I fear our conversat
ion would be short-lived if it were confined to hats.”

  What could she say? They were worlds apart. It wasn’t as if she had much in common with the women of his acquaintance since they were of the ton and she just the daughter of an injured surgeon-dentist. She shrugged.

  “Surely there’s something at which you love spending time?”

  They passed a small window as they rounded the stables. Loud mews came from just inside the building. Of course — her love of cats! “Let’s go inside so I can introduce you to someone that I’ve come to love.”

  He frowned. “Someone?”

  She gave his arm a tug, biting back a smile when she realized her action mirrored those of her brother’s wife.

  Dust motes danced through sunlight that filtered in from a side window. Cecilia led Mr. Radcliff in the direction where she knew the kittens would be. The mews intensified.

  “Ah, how splendid.” Mr. Radcliff crouched down toward the cats as soon as Cecilia removed her hand from his arm.

  “Aren’t they?” Cecilia sighed and bent down next to him. Two marmalade longhaired kittens trotted right to her, standing on hind legs trying to get closer.

  “Obviously they know you, Miss Fleming.”

  A smile curled up the ends of her mouth. “Yes.” If she was alone and wearing one of her older day dresses, she’d not hesitate to sit on the floor and play with them. Doing so now, dressed as she was and in the company of Mr. Radcliff, she decided against it. She reached down as best she could to pet one of the kittens.

  “You need something on which to sit.” Mr. Radcliff stood and removed his coat, laying it so that its outer side was on the floor.

  “Oh, Mr. Radcliff, your coat! You mustn’t.”

  “Nonsense. Wouldn’t you enjoy holding the kittens in comfort?”

  “That would be lovely, nevertheless…”

  “Allow me.” He reached out his hand and took her, assisting her to sit on his coat.

  The fabric of the inner lining was soft and warm. The same pine scent she’d noticed when he’d held her after her thwarted attempt at bilboquet rose to meet her. She brushed her fingers across the dark material. Even the man’s coat was handsome.

  Cecilia glanced up. Mr. Radcliff stood awkwardly next to her. “Would you care to sit here as well? I’ll move over a little. There’s room.”