How To Rescue A Rake (Book Club Belles Society 3) (9 page)

The doctor snorted. “Oh yes, there are plenty on parade indeed. The streets are full of ’em.” He shuddered. “Like cowpats in a field.”

Nathaniel laughed. “I shall have to pick my way through them with care.”

“I must say it is a pity you cannot stay longer, Sherry. This place gets very dull without a resident rake about to thrill the girls into fainting fits and nervous rashes, their mamas into hysteria, and their fathers into apoplexy.”

Nathaniel replied that he would try his best to liven things up for the doctor while he was there.

When Sarah Wainwright begged for dancing and space was cleared in the room, she quickly requisitioned Nathaniel as her partner. He had not expected to dance that evening, but she was insistent and it gave him a reprieve from painfully polite conversation at least. Although there were only four couples willing to dance, that was adequate for the size of the room and just enough for a cotillion.

As he and Sarah joined hands, he glanced over at the pianoforte where Diana played, her skilled fingers flying over the keys, her eyes upon the music.

“You remember Diana, surely,” said his partner, following the path of his gaze.

“Yes.” He was puzzled to see her there without her husband. Yet again. “She married William Shaw, I hear.” There, the words were out.

“Married? Oh, no. Diana had a terrible disappointment. Did you not hear of it? Her fiancé married another woman. It was very tragic. Now she is left brokenhearted and resigned to the future of an old maid.”

His pulse slowed, almost came to a dead stop. He looked over at Diana again. Her eyes were fixed upon the music, although he doubted that she needed to follow the notes. This was a tune she must have played many times.

“But I was told…”

Nathaniel had to wait until he was reunited with his partner in the dance before he could learn any more.

“Then who is the Book Club Belle who moved away and whose husband seldom brings her to visit?”

“That would be Catherine Penny—now Mrs. Forester! She is very much missed since she moved away, although I did not have the chance to know her well before she married.”

Catherine Penny
, of course. What a fool he had been to forget Cathy’s marriage! She was always so quiet and well behaved that he had often overlooked her, especially in the company of her noisier sister, Justina. Catherine Penny—that dear, sweet, darling girl. He suddenly thought of her with far more fondness than ever before.

“Diana always plays for us,” Sarah continued. “I go to her for lessons twice a week, but I’m afraid I’m still not very good. She is much more accomplished at the pianoforte than anyone else and does not mind sitting at the instrument all evening.”

“She does not care to dance?”

“Never. She prefers to play the music. Diana has given up all activities of the young.”

He remembered again the first time he took Diana’s white-gloved hand, when she said she only danced with him to please his sister. It must have been almost ten years ago or thereabouts, the year his father first moved to Hawcombe Prior. The first time he’d laid eyes on her and thought about how there was a light within the girl. It shone through her skin, making her look almost angelic.

But the light was gone now. She stared at the music before her, and the eyebrows that had once captured his attention were drawn fiercely together as if she might need spectacles. He knew how much Diana loved music—had heard her many times, humming quietly to herself and tapping her toes, when she thought she was alone and would neither be heard nor observed. Tonight, however, there was no sign of pleasure on her face as she played for the dancers.

“I would not have known her,” he said to himself as much as anyone. “She is so changed.”

Suddenly Diana looked up and her gaze collided with his. Had she heard his comment above the music? There was a spark between them, as if two swords—his and hers—clashed in the night, and then her gaze returned to the music book open before her. She played on without missing a note.

The dancing continued for some time and, as Sarah had assured him she would, Diana stayed at her post.

While his feet followed the steps—occasionally moving in the wrong direction and causing Sarah equal shares of frustration and amusement—Nathaniel struggled to get his thoughts in order. All his preparations of self-defense had been made in the expectation of Diana’s marriage. Knowing that she remained unwed broke the wall he’d carefully built and sent questions tumbling through his mind. But he kept quiet.

“Lucy Bridges will be furious to have missed this party, especially when she learns there was dancing,” Sarah exclaimed. “Her father hardly lets her out of the house. He says it is improper while she’s in mourning for her grandmama.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

“She is only allowed out for book society meetings. Being shut in has made her quite short-tempered. Just like our dear old boar Sir Morty, who doesn’t care much for fences either. I pointed out the resemblance to her recently, and she went into quite a rage.”

He smiled. “We’ll have to think of some way to cheer her spirits. I remember Miss Lucy Bridges as a lively and amusing young lady.”

Sarah looked at him with wide, thoughtful eyes. “Yes, I do not think you will find
her
so much changed.”

While the dancers rested, he watched Diana stand and move over to the sideboard for some wine. No one had offered to bring her any, despite the fact that she’d sat there playing for them half the evening. Looking around the room, he realized all the guests were too preoccupied with themselves and their conversations. Diana was very much alone as she stood with her head bowed, pouring the wine.

She had not married. He didn’t know what to make of it. Her mama had always been so set on William Shaw that it must have been a shock to both women when he married elsewhere.

How small Diana seemed now. Had she lost inches in all directions? There was a time when his gaze would immediately go to her when he entered a room. Now he was not sure he would have noticed her at all, if not for their history.

While Nathaniel observed her slyly, Diana covered a yawn with her fingers and leaned her hip against the sideboard. Then she gave a tiny, hesitant sneeze.

Rebecca suddenly dropped to the sofa beside him. “You have certainly caused a stir with your refusal to tell anyone what you’ve been up to these past three years. I suppose you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Very much.”

“Well, I shall ask you nothing more about it. I suspect it might be something I wouldn’t want to know, in any case.”

“Quite so, Sister.”

She gave an exasperated gasp. “Since when have you become circumspect, Nate? There was a time when you kept no secrets and your life was an open book. Every sinful chapter was exposed without hesitancy. And if you tap one finger to the side of your nose again in that despicably annoying fashion, I shall be tempted to take those fancy new boots of yours and hold them to the fire.”

“I warned you, Sister. I’m a changed man. Older and wiser.”

“I hope that is the case, Nate,” she said, softening her tone. “I know I had never seen you in such low spirits as when you left here the last time.”

“A long time ago.” He rubbed his thigh with one hand. “And I soon shook that depression off. Nothing ever troubles me for long.” After a pause, he added casually, “I hear your friend Diana’s engagement was called off.”

“It was. Some months after you left.”

“And you did not think it necessary for me to know when I returned?”

“Why should I?”

He glared at his sister.

“You didn’t ask, Nate. I did not think it wise to raise the subject until you did. Considering…”

Nathaniel waited and when nothing more was forthcoming, he snapped, “It means naught to me. I merely asked to be polite.” He huffed, leaning back in the chair, resting one ankle across his knee, his pose relaxed. “I would not want to make a faux pas. That is all.”

“Of course.”

“If I should mention anything to Miss Makepiece that causes her distress—”

“It might be best if you do not talk to her of anything but the weather and her health, don’t you think? You managed to cause her enough distress in the past.”

He took further umbrage at that. “What did I ever do to cause
her
any suffering?”

“Oh, you know very well.”

“Indeed I do not! You had better tell me, for I wouldn’t want to be accused of doing it again.”

His sister gave an extravagant sigh. “Perhaps flirting is so deeply ingrained in your behavior that you don’t even know when you’re doing it.”

Nathaniel looked at her, puzzled.

“Any pretty woman who passes your line of sight becomes a target for your charm, brother dear. It is a habit that would keep any sensible woman from letting you into her heart. But it might be that one very dear, extremely sensible, reserved young woman can’t help feeling fondness for you. And that can only end in tragedy because she feels everything deeply and dares not show it, while you take nothing seriously, and as you just said, nothing troubles you for long.”

He frowned. “Then this…woman, whoever she is, ought to speak up. How am I supposed to read her mind?”

“Perhaps such a woman suffers from shyness. Not everyone is like you, Nate, or has your confidence.”

“Shyness?” he scoffed. “That is simply vanity in disguise. A bashful person assumes everyone is looking at them and waiting for pearls of wisdom to fall from their lips. I have no time for shyness.”

Rebecca shook her head. “Vanity takes many forms, and thinking you know everything is one of them. So is never bothering to put yourself in someone else’s position to view life through their eyes. Demanding the attention of every woman in the room just because you can is another.”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.”

“Of course not.” She patted his knee. “You’re a man. The male brain’s capacity for absorbing new information is limited.”

Annoyed, he grumbled, “Am I not supposed to be polite and gracious to ladies? If I stood in a corner and refused to converse with anyone, I suppose that would make me a villain too. Claiming dainty shyness would not save
me
from scorn.”

“Well, my dear brother, you must continue as you think best. Consider how your carefree, indiscriminate flirting has worked for you up until now.”

Nathaniel deepened his frown.
Indiscriminate flirting
? He’d always been polite to ladies, had grown up under his father’s tutelage when it came to dealing with women. The major, admittedly, often got himself into trouble by being a little too bawdy, but he had taught his son the importance of flattering the ladies and making them laugh.

“No woman can be cross with you for long, if you know how to handle ’em,” he would say. “Just like a child can’t keep weeping and whining with a mouthful of sweet, sticky toffee.”

So Nathaniel’s first instinct was always to befriend a lady, to listen and nod, and then—when the moment was right—to sweeten her up, tease her, and make her blush. The ladies might not always approve of him, but they never forgot “Sherry,” and they couldn’t ignore him.

Major Sherringham loved to hear stories of Nathaniel’s conquests. They would sit together after dinner, sharing a laugh and deepening their bond over brandy and a mutual appreciation of the fairer sex. Once the major’s health forced him to retire and kept him mostly confined to his house, he lived vicariously through his son’s lusty adventures.

Nathaniel didn’t have the heart to tell the old man that a few of those adventures were pure fiction. Or at least exaggerated for effect. His seductions and conquests, true or embellished, were things for which he’d earned his father’s admiration and as such were well worth the effort.

All this considered, Nathaniel couldn’t see what was wrong with his methods when it came to the “handling” of females.

Rebecca leaned closer, lowering her voice to a scant whisper. “It may be amusing to surround oneself with bunches of pretty flowers—the more the merrier when they are easily tended and inexpensively acquired. But every gardener knows that the most beautiful bloom is often the rarest, the most difficult to nurture, and yet the most gratifying to possess.”

“Now you have truly lost me, Sister,” he murmured. “I know nothing about gardening.”

“You are being deliberately obtuse. I shall converse with you on this subject no longer.”

Thus he learned nothing about the whys and wherefores of Diana’s broken engagement. Sarah Wainwright had described the event as “tragic,” but with the usual dramatic tone any girl of eighteen might use. Something, however, had definitely taken its toll on Diana. She was wilted, her colors washed out, her flame extinguished.

But it could be nothing to do with him. For once no one could lay the blame for a lady’s problems at his feet.

His sister got up and moved away, giving up for now. It always made him smile that she—his little sister—tried to advise him. Since their mother died when they were young, Rebecca had taken charge of things and tried to manage both Nathaniel and their father. She had set herself an uphill task, but was never daunted by it. He had to admire that gumption, however annoying it was to suffer her lectures from time to time.

He noticed Sarah stirring people up again to dance, but one look at Diana on the other side of the room suggested she was in no fit state to play all night long. Dark shadows were visible under her eyes, and her hand shook as she sipped her wine.

She had steadily played her way through one book of dances already and was clearly not in the best of health. The woman should probably be home in bed, wrapped up warmly and fed soup. Even if she protested. He knew how stubborn she was.

Not that it was any concern of his. Because she was nothing to him now, of course.

* * *

She had not seen him drink a single glass of wine all evening, but he was still talkative and charming with the ladies in the room. That much had not changed.

From the corner of her eye, Diana watched him entertaining the others, quite at his ease despite the long absence. Nathaniel was the sort who could immediately find interesting conversation with anyone, even a complete stranger. She begrudgingly envied the fool that skill and the freedom to use it, for she had been raised to hold her tongue and speak only when spoken to. And when she did speak, she was taught that she must say the right thing in the proper way. As a consequence it was often easier for her to say nothing at all rather than to risk chastisement.