How To Rescue A Rake (Book Club Belles Society 3) (8 page)

“I have absolutely no interest in meeting that man again,” her mother declared. “Why should we be hauled out on a rainy evening to fawn over
his
return? Trust him to come back again like a bad penny.”

The note from Rebecca had arrived on Friday, inviting them to a small gathering at Willow Tree Farm. There was no mention of Nathaniel’s return, but Diana had felt it best to warn her mother. Mrs. Makepiece did not care for surprises of any kind.

“If we don’t go, Mama, it will look rude, considering our long association with the Sherringham family.”

“As if I care what it looks like!”

But of course she did. Appearances were very important to Diana’s mother.

“No one else is aware that he ever proposed to me, Mama.” Occasionally she’d had cause to suspect that his sister might know, but Rebecca never raised the subject so Diana didn’t either.

After expelling a few more energetic grumbles into the air, Mrs. Makepiece was forced to agree it might be best to get it over with. As Diana pointed out, no one could guess how long Captain Sherringham would remain in the village, and avoiding him forever would be impossible.

Diana said carefully, “We should be natural and polite with the captain, Mama.”

“What can you mean by that? Don’t you think
I
know how to behave?” came the scathing reply. “I have nothing to say to the man and neither do you, I’m sure.”

“But the past is behind us now. There is no cause for you to hold it against him after all these years.” For her friend Rebecca’s sake she didn’t want to seem aloof. She certainly didn’t want anyone thinking her upset by the notion of Nathaniel marrying Lucy Bridges. “It is not as if he is likely to repeat his mistake with me, Mama.”

“Indeed not. Even he couldn’t be so very stupid as to bother
you
again. He’ll have his eye on someone younger. Some naive petticoat with money to fund his reckless wagering.”

So the two women walked out to Willow Tree Farm that evening through a fine drizzle of rain.

Rebecca met Diana at the door and was immediately cross with her. “I would have arranged the carriage for you, had I known you were coming,” she exclaimed. “How could you think to walk all the way here in this weather when you are still recovering from a cold? Poor Diana!”

“Why did you think we would not come? You did invite us.”

“Well, I assumed—” Catching Mrs. Makepiece’s stern eye, her friend quickly shook her head and ushered the newcomers through the vestibule. “Of course you must come in and get dry and warm.” Drawing Diana aside she whispered, “You look so pale and tired. Sarah said you were quite unwell at the dance, and it was my fault that you were there! Now you’ve come out in the rain! My fault again. Poor Diana. You look dreadful.”

Diana stared at her friend and didn’t know what to say. She had glanced briefly in her mirror before she left the house and thought her appearance acceptable, if nothing remarkable. She wore her hair in a knot at the nape of her neck, a more severe style than usual, but she didn’t think it anything worth commenting on. She certainly couldn’t fuss over her appearance before seeing Nathaniel again. If she did, her mother would be suspicious and
he
must not think she ever regretted turning him away.

“Thank you, I must say,” she said finally. “I can always rely on you for the brutal truth. Now all I need is Mrs. Kenton’s opinion and advice, and then my evening will be complete.”

“My daughter took it upon herself to go swimming after fallen coins yesterday,” Mrs. Makepiece snapped, having followed closely to overhear their conversation. “She has no one to blame but herself if her cold lingers. She does not take due precautions or a word of my advice. Soaked through, she was.”

In response to Rebecca’s puzzled expression, Diana explained, “I dropped my reticule in the stream. The string broke from my wrist, and then I slipped trying to retrieve it.”

This was the best excuse she’d been able to think up. While her mother would never have thought it necessary to chase after a muff that fell into the water, she would definitely be angry if Diana lost her purse of coins.

“For goodness’ sake, come to the hearth and get warm,” Rebecca exclaimed.

The Wainwrights’ farmhouse was a spacious building with large, timbered rooms. Luke Wainwright had undertaken many repairs and improvements since he purchased the place from his father-in-law, and it was much grander than it had been before, although in a comfortable way. Even Diana’s mother was surprised, but she hid it well of course. When Rebecca urged her guests to take chairs by the fire and dry their feet, Mrs. Makepiece replied that she preferred to stand, as if accepting the luxury of a padded, brocade seat in that company was the first step toward sin and debauchery.

Then the dreaded moment was upon them. “You will remember my brother, no doubt,” said Rebecca, bringing Nathaniel over to where they stood.

“Yes. No doubt.” Mrs. Makepiece could barely bring herself to look at him, let alone move her mouth, but when she did raise her eyelids, shock flashed through her gaze like sparks from a blacksmith’s hammer. Diana felt it too.

Although she had seen him twice already since his return, she had not, on either occasion, been calm enough to take much note of his appearance or attire, other than to allow herself the galling acknowledgment that he remained as handsome as ever. Now she realized he was very well dressed indeed, the cut of his jacket in the latest style, the material costly. He looked every bit a gentleman of means and consequence.

“Madam.” He bowed to her mother and then to Diana. As he straightened up again there was hesitation. Did he not know what to call her? Or was the tersely uttered “Madam” meant for both women, she wondered. Whatever the cause of his quizzical expression, it apparently prevented him from addressing Diana directly.

Justina and Darius Wainwright arrived in the next moment, and his sister swept him away to greet them.

Diana caught the faint trace of a sneer on her mother’s face and then heard her remark, “I daresay he had a lucky win at the tables, but he will waste it all on his appearance. As one might expect of such a vain fellow. All surface and no substance. Always be wary, Daughter, of property dressed up beyond the means of its owner. There will be cracks hidden by furnishings, mold on the wall covered by sly paintwork, and leaks patched up with temporary fixes.” Her mother looked around the room and added, “Go and sit down, Diana. You look very obvious and desperate standing in the middle of the room. Don’t draw attention to yourself. It’s not ladylike.”

Not waiting for any response from her daughter, she walked away to converse with Mrs. Kenton who, with her usual need to be the center of Hawcombe Prior society, had arrived early for the party. Diana’s mother had a curious relationship with the parson’s wife. She did not like the lady much—thought her brash and vulgar—but although she would never admit it, she
did
like the endless seeds of gossip she could “inadvertently” collect by brushing against the woman occasionally.

All the principals of the village were there, including the Porters from the shop, and Dr. and Mrs. Penny. Only the Bridges were absent, still in mourning. Diana was surprised to see so many braving the rain that evening, particularly since news must have circulated by now of Nathaniel’s return. He had never been very popular among the mothers of the village. She would have expected many of the more haughty residents to stay away rather than mingle with the notorious rogue.

Luke Wainwright’s mutt ambled over to greet Diana and she stooped, giving the creature a quick scratch behind the ears, but even he soon left her standing alone as if her company was too dull to be tolerated for long, her attention inadequate. She looked around the room, but everyone seemed busy with their conversations and no one encouraged her with eye contact and a smile. It was the worst thing in the world to walk up to folk already involved in a discussion and try to foist oneself upon them.

If only Catherine Penny were there, Diana thought sadly. She was always at ease with Cathy because they were two quiet girls together. But one never knew what Rebecca and Justina might say or do next, or what one might hear by joining one of their conversations already in progress. Diana was not much fonder of surprises than her mama was.

She had begun to feel awkward and superfluous when, thankfully, she was saved by Sarah Wainwright, who wanted her opinion on a design for a new gown.

As they pored over sketches at the table, it was not long before the conversation turned to the unofficial guest of honor.

“I am to call him
Sherry
, he says,” Sarah told Diana as they stood by a small table at the window. “He has come home to find a wife, you know.”

Diana swallowed, catching a breath. “Oh.” She checked in her peripheral vision that everyone else was engaged in their own conversations. Her mother was completely attentive at that moment, listening to Mrs. Kenton. The two women liked to complain together almost as much as they liked to complain
about
each other.

“We’re going to find him one. Perhaps you can help.”

Diana focused on Sarah’s drawings. “One what? For whom?”

“A wife. For Sherry! My stepmama says he has always danced away from matrimony and has feared binding himself to one woman.” Sarah lowered her voice even further, making Diana lean in to hear. “Apparently he has had a few near misses in life but sobered up the next day to hurriedly escape the consequences.” Sarah studied her face. “I hope you are not sick because I dragged you out to the Manderson assembly dance on Tuesday!”

“Goodness no,” Diana managed tightly. “I am much improved.”

“But your eyes are watery and your nose is very pink. In fact, you look positively wretched.”

“It is merely the end of this cold. I am much better than I was.” Even as she said it she felt a sneeze coming on, but managed to subdue it to a very small squeak into her handkerchief.

“Poor Diana.” Sarah laid a commiserating hand on her arm. “You
are
under the weather. Your hair has lost all its curl.”

She smiled as widely as she could, her face hurting from the strain. “I have given that up, Sarah.”

“Really?”

“Time for a change, I thought. I am no longer a young girl. Next step will be donning the lace cap of an old maid, as Mrs. Kenton has advised.”

Sarah looked confused for a moment but then nodded, apparently agreeing this would be a sensible idea. In her tender young eyes, twenty-seven was indeed ancient and she didn’t yet understand Diana’s dry humor. Not that Diana was even sure she’d meant the comment as a jest.

“I did so admire that little embroidered book cover you made Jussy for her birthday. I wondered if you would show me how to make one,” Sarah was saying. “My stitches are not nearly as neat as yours, though. My lack of skill will, sadly, dictate a simpler pattern.”

Knowing she would likely end up sewing the book cover herself, Diana agreed that she would “help” Sarah. What else did she have to do?

Apparently he has had a few near misses in life but sobered up the next day to hurriedly escape the consequences.

No doubt she, Diana, was one of his “near misses.” That was why he had left the village immediately without another word to her after his failed proposal.

A moment later, young Sarah’s mind had already moved on to other subjects. “Do say you will play for us tonight, Diana! No one plays so well as you, and I want to dance with Sherry. He promised he would dance.”

“Of course I will play for you.” Even with a hot, foggy head and a scratchy throat, what else could she say when asked so sweetly? Better she make herself useful rather than stand about getting in the way and being “obvious.”

* * *

Despite everything he had imagined saying to Mrs. Rosalind Makepiece when he saw her again, Nathaniel no longer felt the need to fire his arrows. In fact he did not wish to speak to her at all. The anger was still there, but tamed for now, caged. He blamed this calmer temperament on his new clothes. One had to be on one’s best behavior in such a fine suit of clothes. His tailor may not be Schweitzer and Davidson, but he was almost as costly. It was rather like donning a suit of armor, he mused.

In the past, except for the Book Club Belles, who were always more daring than they should be, the ladies of Hawcombe Prior had given Nathaniel a wide berth. But tonight, when he presented a tidier figure in expensive garments, they gathered about him eagerly. It also helped, he suspected, that they knew nothing about his business, and he avoided the subject. An air of mystery drew the gossips in like bees to clover. That amused him, and he may as well get some entertainment from the evening.

He certainly would not reveal to any of these women how he’d come by his wealth. Not yet, in any case. Let them wonder for a while. A few of them—Mrs. Makepiece, for instance—would never approve. It would give her a fresh reason to look down on him. Not that she needed any more.

But he was pleased to see a few of the residents of Hawcombe Prior again. Dr. Penny had been a good friend, inviting Nathaniel into his study to share his troubles and a glass of wine on several occasions. The doctor was an excellent listener and he worked his remedies in such a quiet, unassuming way that one seldom realized how clever he was.

That evening, the doctor’s bright eyes twinkled merrily as he inspected Nathaniel’s new attire. “You have come to set the young ladies’ hearts aflutter again, Sherry,” he exclaimed with a low chuckle. “I can see I had better stock up on smelling salts and indigestion pills.”

“I am on my way to Bath, sir, and will not stay here long.”

“To Bath?” The doctor looked distressed. “I was there once. Didn’t take to it.”

“I am escorting a lady there to visit her relatives.
Not
that sort of a lady. I barely remember how I became commissioned with the task of escorting her there, but it seemed no one else was willing to travel with her and I have since discovered why.” He grimaced. “Still, I promised I would deliver her safely. And then I shall be free to enjoy the sights and perhaps even find a bride while I am there. I hear there are plenty of eligible wenches on parade in Bath.”