A Winter Scandal (13 page)

“We all make our own choices. And in the end, no one else can bear the consequences for us. I am sure you did your best.”

“Did I? Sometimes I wonder. Perhaps it was only the easiest. The most convenient for me.” They walked on in silence for a moment, then he said, “I was happy that she was going to marry Lord Rawdon. He and I were friends. Good friends. I thought it would be pleasant … fun … for me.
I
wanted it. Obviously I wasn’t thinking about my sister; I didn’t even realize that she did not want to marry him.”

Thea laid her hand on his arm. “You must not blame yourself. Who would not want one’s sister to marry a good friend? I think that I would be happy, surely, if my brother told me he was going to marry my friend.” Of course, the thought of her studious brother marrying the vibrant Damaris was a bit ludicrous, but in principle the theory held true. “It would ensure that you continued to be close even after she was married. You thought that he would be a good husband, that he would care for her and protect her.”

“I thought he loved her.”

“Then how can you say it was wrong to be happy she was engaged to him?”

“She ran away from him. Obviously she did not wish to marry him.”

“Sometimes people change their minds. Surely she wanted to marry him in the beginning or she would not have accepted his proposal. I mean, you did not arrange the marriage between you and him, did you?”

“No, of course not. He came to me and asked my permission, naturally, and I was happy to give it to him. But she accepted his proposal. She seemed eager to marry him, I thought.”

“No doubt she was. People can have doubts later. They might decide they made the wrong decision.”

“But why did Jocelyn not tell me that she had changed her mind?” Gabriel frowned. “She must have believed that she could not, that I would be angry with her, even insist she marry him.”

“You must not think that. Perhaps she simply could not face the scandal she knew it would cause if she broke off the engagement. Things can seem frightful, even unbearable, when we are young. Or she may have felt too embarrassed or ashamed to tell you. Sometimes, silly as it seems, the people we love the most are the ones to whom we are most afraid of revealing our foolishness. That does not mean she was afraid of you or did not trust you.”

They walked on in silence for a moment, then Gabriel said, “Thank you. Whether that is true or you are merely being kind, I confess it does make me feel better.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I am a bit surprised that you should make an effort to ease my mind. You have not appeared to like me overmuch.”

She gave an eloquent little shrug. “The truth does not have anything to do with liking or disliking.”

The grin she was coming to know well flashed briefly. “So you are saying that you still do not like me overmuch.”

“I would not think you would care what one spinster in an out-of-the-way village thinks of you. No doubt you are very well liked by any number of women.”

“Sometimes the challenging course presents the more appealing prospect.”

Thea glanced at him sharply. She was not sure what to make of such comments from him. They seemed, well, flirtatious, yet she could not imagine why a man such as Lord Morecombe would flirt with a woman such as her. Perhaps he was simply too much in the habit to stop. Or maybe he disliked the thought of any woman not succumbing to his charms, even when he had no real interest in her.

Whatever the case, Thea did not fool herself. She prided herself on not believing in nonsensical daydreams. She was not the sort to stitch a few words from an eligible man into a pattern of romantic interest, especially when the man was someone as handsome and charming as Gabriel Morecombe. His flirtation meant nothing; his kisses even less. Still, she could not deny that his words warmed her. She found herself wanting to smile at him, and she had to clamp her lips together to keep from doing so.

Fortunately, they were almost to the vicarage, and Thea was able to simply avoid his comment, instead picking up her pace and heading toward the low gate leading into her yard. Inside the kitchen, they were greeted by the sight of a blond girl seated on the rug with the baby, playing peekaboo with his blanket. She scrambled up as Thea and Gabriel stepped into the room and stood gazing at Lord Morecombe in awe.

The baby, upon seeing Thea, raised his hands toward her and let out a stream of babble. The smile she had been able to restrain with Gabriel burst forth undeniably now, and she bent to pick him up, swinging him up to settle him on her hip in a gesture that was already seeming quite familiar.

“Good afternoon, Lolly,” Thea greeted the girl.

“Miss.” Lolly bobbed a little curtsy toward her and a deeper one to Lord Morecombe, blushing and ducking her head.

Thea sighed and glanced at Gabriel. He looked faintly amused.

“Lolly, Mrs. Brewster tells me you might be interested in acting as a nursemaid for young Matthew here,” Gabriel began gravely.

“Yes, sir.” She ventured a quick upward glance at him but seemed unable to say anything else.

“Did you ask your parents, Lolly?” Thea asked. “Will they allow you to take care of the baby?”

“Oh, yes, miss.” The girl turned back to Thea, looking a little relieved. “They said as long as it was for you, miss, and I’d be staying here.”

“Yes, well, for the time being, that is certainly where you will be staying. If that should change in the future, we would address it then. But do you think that you will be able to adequately take care of the baby?”

Lolly smiled. “Oh, yes, miss. I look after all my brothers and sisters at home, leastways all the little ones. One baby’d be that easy.”

“Your mother would not be here to supervise.”

“I know what to do, miss.”

As long as she was not looking at Lord Morecombe, the girl seemed confident enough, Thea thought. The only way to tell if she could do the work would be to let her try. Thea looked over at Gabriel questioningly.

“Why don’t you look after him for a few days?” Morecombe suggested, echoing Thea’s thoughts. “Then we can decide what to do for the future.”

“Oh, yes, sir, thank you, sir.” Lolly bobbed a curtsy, then another for good measure, beaming. “Miss, I’ll do a good job. You’ll see.”

Lolly was eager to start her work, even offering to begin right then, but Thea assured her that the following day would be soon enough. Lolly left, promising to return early the next morning with her things. Thea turned to Gabriel, feeling suddenly awkward. It occurred to her how strange it was to be standing with an aristocrat in her kitchen, a baby in her arms, and Mrs. Brewster cooking at the fire behind them. Gabriel should have looked very out of place here, Thea thought, in his elegant clothes, the top of his head nearly brushing the low ceiling. However, he did not seem ill at ease, and Thea was aware that the awkwardness lay more in herself than in him. They had done what they set out to do today, and there was no reason to see him again. The idea disappointed her, and the sheer foolishness of that emotion made her even more awkward.

“What will you do now?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I cannot think what else to do here.”

“No. It seems unlikely that she is staying in Chesley,” Thea said.

“If she did not spend the night here, it seems that she might have stayed at a nearby village.”

“Yes. Bynford is east of us, on the road from Oxford.”

“That seems the likeliest place to try next.” He paused. “I—if you wouldn’t mind, perhaps you could accompany me?”

Thea glanced at him, startled, and saw that Morecombe himself appeared faintly surprised.

“We worked rather well together, I thought,” he went on in the silence that followed his invitation. “Unless, of course, well, it might be a bit chilly. I brought only my curricle with me to the Priory—but I promise to provide a lap robe and a hot brick for your feet.”

“Yes,” Thea said quickly, afraid that if he went on speaking, he might talk himself out of the offer. “I mean, I would be happy to help you. And since Lolly will be here now, I won’t have to worry about overburdening Mrs. Brewster with the baby.” Thea thought she heard a soft grunt from the direction of the fireplace, but Thea ignored it.

Morecombe smiled. “Very well. Thank you for your help. I shall see you tomorrow morning.”

Thea nodded and watched him leave, her stomach dancing in a mix of excitement and nerves. Behind her, Mrs. Brewster clanked a long wooden spoon against the edge of a pot.

Thea turned, uneasily sure that her housekeeper had something to say about the scene she had just witnessed. She expected disapproval, for Thea knew that going with Lord Morecombe to Bynford the next day was skating perilously close to scandal. She was a little surprised, however, to see not disapproval, but a frown of worry forming between the housekeeper’s eyes.

“Are you sure what you’re doing, miss?” was all she said.

“’Tis an open carriage,” Thea pointed out. “And we will simply go there and come back. Bynford’s not far. We shall be gone only a few hours. And it isn’t as if I am a young girl in need of a chaperone; I am quite past marriageable age. I believe my reputation is good enough to bear up under spending three hours in an open vehicle with a gentleman.”

“’Twasn’t scandal I was thinking of,” the housekeeper retorted. “I know you’re not the sort to lose your head even over a man who looks like sin walking, which his lordship does.” She paused, then added softly, “It’s your heart I’m worried about, Miss Althea.”

“Nonsense. I didn’t cut my eyeteeth yesterday, you know. I’m not likely to lose my heart to any man, much less an arrogant wastrel like Lord Morecombe. My heart is firmly under lock and key and has been for years.”

Matthew chose that moment to let out a coo and reach up to pat Thea’s cheek. She looked down at his cherubic face, and the organ in question seemed to swell in her chest. She was lying, she knew. She could hold her heart secure from Gabriel Morecombe, she felt sure of that, but it had already been lost to this young man.

Smiling at him, she bent to kiss his head. His soft curls tickled her cheek. What would she do if Matthew did turn out to be Gabriel’s nephew? She would have to do the right thing and let him take his place with his family. But how would she be able to give him up?

Gabriel strode down the street,
heading back to the inn where he had stabled his horse this morning. He had not really meant to ask Miss Bainbridge to accompany him tomorrow on his search for Jocelyn, but somehow the words had slipped out. He had already spent the better part of a day in her company, and in general he was disinclined to call on any lady two days in a row. It was not a wise practice to visit a woman frequently, for they (or their relatives) were likely to begin to have hopes about the possibility of marriage—and Gabriel had no interest in marrying, at least not anytime soon. Someday, of course, when he was older and ready to raise a family, to fulfill his duty as Lord Morecombe, he would find a suitable lady and ask her to marry him.

But that day was far away still. There were still too many things to do and enjoy to shackle himself to a wife. Being a man who enjoyed the company of women, he certainly did not avoid them, but he was careful to keep his attentions to eligible girls brief and light. He might flirt and dance and escort women to a ball or a play now and then, but he avoided young girls just making their come-outs, and he made sure that he did not pay too much attention to any eligible woman. There were, after all, plenty of willing widows as well as actresses and opera dancers who understood the rules of the game and with whom he could spend all the time he chose.

Althea Bainbridge was definitely not one of those women.

He had to smile to himself. Althea was the daughter and sister of vicars, and she was unmarried. Not just unmarried, but a spinster of several years, a veritable ape leader. Such a woman was exactly the sort to stay away from, the kind who would start spinning dreams out of moonlight, turning a flirtatious exchange into an incipient proposal of matrimony.

And yet … he had not been able to stop himself from asking her to spend the next day with him. It had been so easy with Althea today. Not awkward or boring. They had fit well together in the way they had questioned the innkeeper’s wife and the town gossip. It was odd how frequently she spoke the same thought he had or asked the question he wanted answered.

When he had thought about riding over to Bynford by himself, the idea had not appealed. He liked her dry wit and her intelligence. She never seemed to fear offending him or to strive to please him. Being with her, he realized just how often other young women molded their conversation to his, echoing his opinions or asking what he thought instead of making a statement of their own. Not often could one talk with a woman who would give back as good as she got. And some who did, such as Rawdon’s sister, were far too icy for his taste. He could not imagine a woman like that reaching out to put a soothing hand on his arm and reassure him that he was not to blame for his sister’s fleeing her nuptials.

Another thing was odd about his time with Miss Bainbridge. He had never told anyone, even his closest friends such as Ian or Myles, about his fear that he had pushed Jocelyn into marriage with Rawdon. Yet, after knowing this woman for less than two days, he was confessing the doubt that had ridden him for the past year. She did not seem the sort to whom he would want to tell his thoughts or secrets—she was starchy in manner and vaguely defiant in her speech. Nothing in her manner was especially warm or sympathetic. Indeed, she seemed more inclined to berate a man than to offer him comfort. Yet she had done exactly that, and her words had made all the more impression on him because of her no-nonsense manner.

He reached the yard of the inn, and the ostler hurried to saddle and bring out his mount. Gabriel tossed the boy a coin and swung up onto his horse, turning him down the road toward the Priory. As he rode, he continued to think about Althea.

He felt sure that any of his friends would be amazed to find he had any interest in her. But, given that he had given in to impulse and kissed her three times now, he could scarcely deny that he was drawn to her. She was not beautiful, it was true. But he found something in her looks intriguing. The unruly curls that kept pulling free of her pins and tumbling around her face tugged at him. They were neither red nor brown but something in between, the color of glossy mahogany, warm and inviting. He wanted to reach out and touch them, to feel their softness, to coil them around his fingers. Nor could he keep from wondering what she would look like with all her hair hanging loose around her shoulders. A man could sink his hands into that mass of curls. Bury his face in it and drink in the sweet scent of her. He had thought of doing exactly that thing more than once today as they went about their business.