Baroness in Buckskin (22 page)

“Oh Richard, Richard!” she said in between kisses, laughing and crying at the same time. “You dear, dense man, don’t you know I’ve loved you from the first?”

“And yet you rejected my proposal,” he reminded her.

“Only because you so clearly did
not
want to make it! Loving you as I did, how could I put my wishes ahead of your own?”

“Promise me you won’t marry Sir Matthew!”

“No, no, of course I won’t! Indeed, I never really wanted to, but I could not bear to live here and see you married to Cousin Susannah!”

He snapped his fingers. “
That
for Cousin Susannah! I would not allow you to marry Sir Matthew were I a hundred times married to her!”

Jane could find nothing to dispute in these sentiments, but the recollection of Richard’s betrothal was sufficient to wipe the smile from her face, and she exclaimed with dismay, “But Richard, you cannot have thought! Your betrothal is to be announced within the hour!”

“No, it is not—not anymore.”

“You cannot
jilt
the poor girl!”

“I can, and I will. I shall assuage my conscience with the knowledge that she has no more desire to marry me than I have to marry her.” In a more serious tone, he added, “I have spent my entire life putting my duty ahead of my own inclinations—indeed, I was raised to believe I had an obligation to do so. But not now, not this time. My future happiness, and yours, is too important to throw away for the sake of mere propriety.”

“ ‘Mere’ propriety, Richard?” Her voice was faint-ly mocking, but her face was radiant with happiness. “This, from you? If I had any doubts as to your senti-ments, they are surely answered.”

“My dearest love!”

He took her in his arms (more gently this time) and kissed her quite thoroughly, and their kisses were all the sweeter for having been so long deferred. Alas, the sound of the anteroom door opening caused them to jump apart. Sir Matthew Pitney stood in the doorway, the picture of outraged virtue.

“My lord! Have the goodness to unhand my fiancée!”

“Go to the devil,” recommended Richard.

“You think to insult me in addition to manhandling the woman who is to become my wife? I will have satisfaction, sir! My second will wait upon you in the morning!”

“No, no, you quite misunderstand the matter,” Jane said soothingly, in an attempt to pour oil over troubled waters. “I am very sorry, Sir Matthew, but I cannot marry you, after all. It is Lord Ramsay, you see. I—he—”

“Oh, yes, I see very well!” declared Sir Matthew, fairly quivering with indignation. “I wonder what Miss Ramsay would say to the information that her betrothed is having a bit of slap-and-tickle with the former companion of his sainted mother?”

He quitted the little room without waiting for an answer, and if he resisted the urge to slam the door, there was no denying that he shut it with a disapproving “click.” Richard and Jane stared silently at the space he had vacated, until Jane found her tongue at last.

“Oh, dear! He is quite right, you know; that is exactly how it will be perceived, once it becomes known that we—”

“Yes, and that is why we must marry as soon as may be arranged. In the meantime, you will remove to the Dower House as soon as our guests depart, and will remain there with the Aunts until the wedding. I will not have it said that there has been anything in the least salacious about your presence in this house since Mama’s death!”

“No, not that,” Jane said impatiently. “That is, of course I will marry you whenever you wish. But Cousin Susannah must certainly be told before—”

As if on cue, the door opened once more, and Susannah tripped lightly into the room. “Richard, Sir Matthew says—” She broke off abruptly, and her eyes grew round at the sight of Richard and Jane, their newfound happiness obvious in spite of the guilt writ large upon their faces. “So it’s true, then!”

“Susannah—” With some reluctance, Richard released Jane and stepped forward. “My dear girl, I am sorrier than I can say—”

“Nonsense!” Susannah declared briskly. “You never gave me any reason to believe that you loved me—in fact, I have often wondered why you didn’t marry Cousin Jane years ago, for it is obvious that you were meant for each other!”

“Excellent creature!” declared Richard, taking Susannah’s hand and raising it to his lips.

“I am only sorry you were put to the trouble and expense of my passage from America.” She glanced at Jane. “I’m sorry, too, that I never did learn to behave like a proper lady.”

Richard was moved to protest this self-denigration. “Now,
that
I cannot regret, for had you not arrived and set us all on our ears, God only knows how long I might have continued in ignorance of my own heart. Since the betrothal has not been formally announced, I trust that any embarrassment to you will be minimal. If anyone dares to say anything, we will merely express astonishment that our American cousin’s visit could be so misconstrued. In the meantime, I will make it up to you, Susannah, I promise. Next spring Jane and I will sponsor you for a Season in London, and you will have the most brilliant come-out any young lady ever had: presentation at Court, vouchers for Almack’s—”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

Three heads turned toward the door, which had opened once more to admit yet another person into the tiny room which was by now becoming quite crowded.

“Susannah will not be here next spring,” Peter explained. “She will be returning to America on the
Mermaid
.”

“Will she?” Jane asked doubtfully. “You need not, Susannah, if you do not wish it. In any case, I’m not at all certain we can find a woman to accompany you on such short notice.”

“No woman will be necessary,” Peter said.

Richard looked down at his erstwhile betrothed in some consternation. “You cannot make such a journey alone!”

“I quite agree,” Peter said, moving forward to slip his arm about her waist. “Fortunately, she will not be travelling alone. She will be returning to America as Mrs. Peter Ramsay.”

“Oh, Peter!” Susannah squealed, throwing her arms about his neck.

He received her with great willingness, and although they did not so far forget themselves as to kiss in full view of two other people, their embrace left neither of the spectators in any doubt as to their sentiments.

“Peter Ramsay!” Richard regarded his steward with mock indignation. “I accused you once of trying to steal a march on me. It appears I was closer to the truth than I knew!”

“Yes,” Peter said, detaching himself with some reluctance from Susannah’s arms, “but it was not my intention, I assure you. It just, well, it just
happened
. I did not mean to—I am sorry if—”

“You need not apologize,” Richard assured him. “Unless, of course, it is to Miss Hunsford. I believe she had her hopes quite set on you.”

“I could almost feel sorry for that horrid Miss Hunsford,” Susannah said, brushing traces of her rice powder from Peter’s hitherto immaculate cravat with a proprietary air. “Almost, but not quite.”

“Perhaps she and Sir Matthew can console one another,” Richard suggested to Jane, his newfound happiness finding expression in absurdity.

Beyond the closed door, the violins ground to a halt, and a gong sounded—the cue for everyone to locate his or her partner for supper, and the prearranged signal for the betrothal announcement that was to precede the meal.

“Oh, my!” exclaimed Jane. “Everyone was told to expect an announcement!”

“And an announcement they shall have,” Richard said, taking her hand. “Two, in fact. Peter, Susannah, are you coming?”

Susannah would have followed him, but Peter grabbed her wrist. “We’ll be there directly,” he said. “We have unfinished business to attend.”

Richard gave the pair a knowing look. “Don’t be too long. It’s shockingly bad form, you know, missing your own engagement announcement,” he said, then drew Jane’s hand through his arm and sallied forth to do the honours.

At the age of sixteen, Sheri Cobb South discovered Georgette Heyer, and came to the startling realization that she had been born into the wrong century. Although she doubtless would have been a chambermaid had she actually lived in Regency England, that didn’t stop her from fantasizing about waltzing the night away in the arms of a handsome, wealthy, and titled gentleman.

Since Georgette Heyer was dead and could not write any more Regencies, Ms. South came to the conclusion she would simply have to do it herself. In addition to her popular series of Regency mysteries featuring idealistic young Bow Street Runner John Pickett (described by
All About Romance
as “a little young, but wholly delectable”), she is the award-winning author of several Regency romances, including the critically acclaimed
The Weaver Takes a Wife
.

A native and long-time resident of Alabama, Ms. South recently moved to Loveland, Colorado, where she has a stunning view of Long’s Peak from her office window.

The Regency Novels of Sheri Cobb South

The Weaver Takes a Wife

(Weaver Trilogy, Book 1)

Brighton Honeymoon

(Weaver Trilogy, Book 2)

French Leave

(Weaver Trilogy, Book 3)

Miss Darby’s Duenna

Of Paupers and Peers

Baroness in Buckskin

The Regency Mysteries of Sheri Cobb South

(in chronological order)

In Milady’s Chamber

(John Pickett Mystery #1)

A Dead Bore

(John Pickett Mystery #2)

Family Plot

(John Pickett Mystery #3)

Pickpocket’s Apprentice

(A John Pickett Novella)

Dinner Most Deadly

(John Pickett Mystery #4; Coming in 2015)

Too Hot To Handel

(John Pickett Mystery #5; Coming in 2016)

Copyright © 2015 by Sheri Cobb South

Cover illustration:
Elizaveta Alexeevna
, by Vigee-Lebrun, 1802.

Electronically published in 2015 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.