Tenacious Trents 02 - A Perfect Gentleman

A Tenacious Trent Novel

Jane Charles

Matthew Trent always knew what was
expected of him and that was to become the Perfect Vicar and a
Perfect Gentlemen. When Grace Cooper enters his life he is forced
to face what he really wishes to become.

Grace Cooper has three
options for marriage available to her in the small village where
she resides. However, Grace would rather be placed on the shelf
than enter into a miserable union.

When someone threatens her
father and then makes an attempt on her life, it is Vicar Trent who
vows to protect her and brings scandal to her doorstep, upsetting
the delicate balance of both of their worlds.

A Perfect Gentleman

By: Jane Charles

Copyright © 2012 by Jane Charles

Cover Design by Lily Smith

This book is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, locations and events are either a product of the
author’s imagination, fictitious or used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to any event, locale or person, living or dead, is
purely coincidental.

This e-book is licensed for your personal
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author.

Bentley Manor, 1789

Matthew Trent sat in the large chair facing
his father, the Earl of Bentley, his bottom smarting from the
whipping he’d just received. Once he was free of this room Matthew
doubted he would sit again for a week. As it was, it took
everything to keep from squirming to find a more comfortable
position. It wasn’t his fault John had climbed the tree and then
fell and broke his arm.

The earl leaned forward and braced an elbow
on the desk, his bushy grey eyebrows drawn together over his nose
in a frown. The man was frightening indeed. “I am disappointed in
you, Matthew.”

When wasn’t his father disappointed in him or
one of his three brothers except perhaps Clayton, his favorite?

“You should have stopped your brother.” His
father’s right hand caressed the end of the willow switch.

“I tried, but he wouldn’t listen to me,
sir.”

The earl’s face grew sterner.

Oh, please don’t let him whip me again.

Father picked up the glass of dark liquid and
sipped. Matthew wanted to be from the room before the earl had too
many more drinks or he was sure to be whipped again. “You need to
be more authoritative when dealing with those who look up to
you.”

How could he be an authority, or order John
around? John was only five and Matthew just turned seven. His
brother was not going to listen to him no matter what.

“How can you be a good vicar if you can’t
lead your parishioners? You must be someone they look to for
guidance in all things.”

Matthew swallowed. He wasn’t sure he wanted
to be a vicar. It sounded too important. And, you had to be good.
Very, very good to be a vicar and he wasn’t good. If he were, then
his father would never need to take the willow switch to his
bottom.

“You like to pray, don’t you, Matthew?” His
father poured more liquid from the decanter into his glass. Was
this his second or third drink?

“Yes, sir.” Matthew did pray a lot. For a
long time he prayed that God would send Mother back to him. For the
last week he had been praying for Adele, his step-mother, and
Julia, his baby sister, to be sent back. But God hadn’t granted
that prayer. Why was it so hard to give him either? God raised
Lazarus from the dead easily. Instead, God let his step-mother and
sister both be swept out to sea after their carriage had gone off
the side of a bridge. It wasn’t fair and at this moment, Matthew
was fairly certain he did not want to be a vicar. You couldn’t be a
vicar and be angry with God, could you?

Matthew looked down at his lap so his father
would not see the tears and blinked quickly. Crying would earn him
another punishment. But, he missed Adele and Julia. Adele, more
than Julia. His step-mother smelled pretty and played games with
them. Julia wasn’t nearly as fun, but she would have been when she
got bigger.

His father leaned back in the big leather
chair and folded his hands on his large belly, thus he was no
longer touching the willow switch. Matthew relaxed but didn’t alter
the straight line of his spine.

“I’ve decided that since you cannot be a good
influence on your brother, you need to spend more time in your
studies.”

Matthew looked up and swallowed, hoping his
father didn’t hear the little groan. Matthew hated to study almost
as much as he hated his tutor, Mr. Pomroy. The man liked to smack
his knuckles as often as father took the switch to him or his
brothers.

“You are to visit Vicar Hinrich each
afternoon for additional education to prepare you to be the perfect
vicar.”

Matthew perked up. He liked Vicar Hinrich,
very much. And, his wife made the most delicious cherry tarts.

His father leaned forward once again, and
caressed the willow as if he were the softest silk. “I expect you
to excel at your studies, Matthew. You are my third son and need a
way to support yourself. I expect nothing but perfection from
you.”

Yorkshire, England, October, 1813

Grace Cooper ran across the field of
wildflowers, one hand on her bonnet to keep it in place. The church
bells tolled in the distance and she picked up speed. A lady would
have taken the carriage, or at least traveled upon the road. But,
as she was simply the daughter of landed gentry, lady not attached
to her name; Grace reasoned a simple miss could do as she pleased –
almost.

The new vicar was to give the sermon today.
She had not yet met him, but rumors and gossip claimed him to be
quite young, and handsome. Not that it mattered. Grace just didn’t
like to leave a poor first impression. She frowned. Which was
exactly what would occur when she entered the sanctuary several
minutes late.

Perhaps he wouldn’t notice. The church was
sure to be full, if not over packed. Everyone would come to see and
hear him. Oh, how she wished she could recall his name. She was
certain several people had told her, but the information was no
longer in her mind.

Grace crested the hill and looked down at the
simple parish church. Curricles, carriages, landaus and horses
crowded along the circular drive. She had never seen so many show
for Sunday Services. Perhaps there wouldn’t even be a seat
available. It would serve her right. If she hadn’t tarried in the
dairy, she would have arrived on time.

Gaining more momentum than she planned going
down the hill, Grace had to force herself to slow before she lost
her footing and rolled the rest of the way. Arriving late was one
thing. Arriving late
and
disheveled was another matter
entirely.

Grace reached the front of the church and
skidded to a halt. A quick tap of her head fixed her hat, a pat
across her dress smoothed the material, and a stomp of her foot
loosened a chunk of dirt stuck to her shoe. After a deep breath,
she smiled as she opened the door and stepped in. The parishioners
were seated and she stopped short. The minister pinned her with a
look and frowned. Heat infused her face. Yes, a very bad
impression, indeed. But, it could not be helped.

The rumors were correct. He was young, and
handsome. She couldn’t tell the color of his eyes, but his hair was
a rich brown with a hint of red. Few lines marred his face, and his
lips were firm.