APretenseofLove (3 page)

Miss Seton appeared to be aware of the waiting carriages.
“If you’ll excuse us, we must keep moving. Good day.”

Biting back the urge to ask who the gentlemen were and how important
they were to her, Ben said, “I have always been struck by the incongruity of
the fashionable hour at Hyde Park. One wants to see and be seen, yet one cannot
pause to greet an acquaintance without causing a traffic jam.”

“It’s like the ballrooms, isn’t it? One may take a turn
about the room, yet often one does so at her own peril.”

“There should be a simpler way to find a husband or wife.”

She turned to face him. “Are you suggesting we stick to
arranged marriages? Remove all the posturing and pleasantries of the Season?”

“I’m certain many arranged marriages result in as happy a
circumstance as the ones built on momentary passion.”

“But what if the passion isn’t momentary? What if it’s a
spark of love lighting the flame they feel for one another? Or do you not
believe in love?”

As they had reached the far end of the promenade, Ben
steered the horse through a gate and away from the park. “The only love I know
is built over time. That’s how it is able to last a lifetime. There certainly
isn’t enough time in a Season to fall in love.”

* * * * *

Viscount Ringley took another swallow of his brandy while
studying the cards in his hand. “Remind me why we’re playing poker in your
rooms rather than getting in on the real stakes at Boodle’s?”

Ben set two cards facedown on the table. “Because I still
hold your vowels from last week’s gaming at White’s. Now, deal.”

“Ah, yes. And you have my eternal gratitude, you know. I’ll
speak to my father about an advance on next quarter’s funds.”

“You’ll do no such thing. I know you’re good for the money.
But I do think you should avoid either drinking or the tables.”

“You sound like my father. Perhaps you
are
ready to
take a wife.”

Ben raised a brow. “You had doubts?”

“You had doubts as well. Admit it. You probably still do. This
is a rash decision to make on sudden notice. Sir Waldo hasn’t been gone a year,
and you have done a complete turnabout from your attitude when he insisted you
marry. You are in a mad dash to take a wife. Yet a month ago you argued when I
suggested it was what you wanted.”

“I blamed the sullenness on the stress of taking over
Grandfather’s company. I’ve never missed a woman when she was out of my
presence, so I didn’t realize what that felt like.”

Ringley shook his head. “Don’t let your demimonde hear you
say so.”

“I cut her free long before Grandfather’s summons, and you
know it.”

“That alone could drive a man to think mad thoughts. I still
say you should set yourself up with another demimonde until the feeling passes.
Buy a nice cottage outside Greater Yarmouth and place her there. It would be
quite convenient.”

“And quite unacceptable. I know what I want. I want a
companion, a helpmeet. Someone who will ask how my day has been when I return
home.”

Grinning, Ringley replied, “I’m certain Smithers would be
more than happy to ask it when he takes your hat and coat at the door.”

Ben chuckled. “For that matter, I could have a dog wagging
his tail and barking when I come home. But it wouldn’t be the same. Miss Seton
discussed any problems I had and offered intelligent responses. I could see her
concern in her manner, in her eyes. It warmed me to have someone who cared
there, to speak with.”

He rose and crossed to the liquor cabinet. Grabbing the
brandy decanter, he returned to the table and topped off both their glasses.
“I’d thought a mistress would be enough to see me through the next six or seven
years at least. I could find a bride then, when I needed to produce an heir.”

He stuck the crystal stopper back in the bottle. “But I want
more. I want the entire meal with all the courses, all the removes. I want Miss
Seton.”

Ben found exactly what he’d hoped for when he entered his
aunt’s library. Miss Seton sat alone, curled in the window seat with a book in
her hands. He cleared his throat, then smiled when she jumped.

“Oh, I didn’t hear you come in,” she said with a small laugh
as her cheeks turned pink.

“I didn’t want to disturb you. That must be a very good
book.”

“It is.
Narrative Poems on the Female Character
. I
found it on the shelves.”

He crossed the room, holding up the novel in his hand. “I
found the romance you suggested to me, Radcliffe’s
The Italian.
I shall
begin reading it this very night
.”
Laying the book on a small table, he
continued, “There is a matter I must discuss with my aunt, but I wondered if
you would care to walk with me when I am finished?”

“That would be pleasant. I must go change.” She set her book
on a delicate side table and slipped from the room.

After concluding his business with his aunt, Ben found Miss
Seton in a lovely apple-green walking gown with elaborate handwork at the hem.
Her boots and gloves were a matching shade of green. A feathered hat perched
precariously on her brown curls. He knew it to be a new purchase, as she’d worn
nothing so fancy during her stay in Greater Yarmouth. He felt warmed with
satisfaction at having played a part in allowing her to purchase some
fashionable gowns. Her beauty deserved to be enhanced by the finest things.

If only she’d give him the chance to make certain she always
wore such finery.

She took his arm as they walked down the street, her maid
trailing discreetly behind. Her bonnet hid her face from him, but he loved the
look of her on his arm. He was certain passersby would read his grin and think
him a fool. He didn’t care. “Tell me, have you seen all the sights here in
Town? Have you tasted the ices at Gunter’s and bought perfume at Faro’s?”

“Yes, Mama and I have enjoyed the ices several times, but
I’ve not shopped for extravagances like perfumes. My cologne from home suits me
well enough.”

He remembered the light fragrance of honeysuckle that
followed behind her when she walked through a room at Three Gables, and had to
agree it suited her. “And what was your favorite flavor of ice?”

Her head tipped to one side and she chewed her lower lip for
a moment. “It’s between maple and lavender. I hadn’t expected to enjoy the
latter, but I did.”

He wished he could ask the real questions in his thoughts,
such as what she hoped for in a marriage. How could he convince her they suited
if he didn’t know what she sought? It seemed an impertinent question, however,
and probably not one she’d appreciate. Instead, he asked after her brother.

“I had a letter from him just this week. He’s had a slight
wound to his arm and is recuperating in camp. He’s uncertain if he’ll stay on
when his enlistment is finished.”

“He was saying as much when I sold my commission when Sir
Waldo grew ill. I believe he has seen enough of the world to satisfy him.”

She looked up at him and the sunlight threw a shadow over
one eye. He’d not noticed the threads of gold in her brown eyes. The outer
corners turned up slightly and appeared even more so when she smiled. “What of
you? Did you see much of the world? Do you wish to travel now that you have the
freedom to do so?”

“I saw battle in France and Spain, and we passed through the
cities too quickly to enjoy them. I should like to go back. There is much
beauty beyond the shores of England.” An idea for a wedding trip came to him,
but he nipped that thought in the bud.

After returning her to his aunt’s home, however, he made
straight for Gunter’s to enact a plan that had come to him while they talked.

* * * * *

Mrs. Granderson’s home was quite the popular spot to drop by
of late, and Jean enjoyed the company of her new friends. Nearly a dozen young
gentlemen and ladies mingled about the salon where she and Agnes shared the
chaise. Mr. Portwine waxed less than eloquently about some matter of
politics—she was embarrassed to realize she’d been woolgathering—when a footman
entered carrying a large basket. He came straight to Jean rather than Mrs.
Granderson.

“If you please, miss, I was told to deliver these to you
personally.”

“Deliver what?” She feared the basket held anything from
kittens to jars of honey, neither of which she wished to handle at the moment.

The young man lowered the basket before her and removed the
cloth covering. Jean peered inside and gasped.

“What is it?” asked Agnes as she scurried to stand nearby.

Reaching in carefully, Jean lifted out the first of the
small bowls of glacées. “Sweets. At least a dozen of them. More than enough for
everyone.” She supervised the distribution of bowls while a servant went for
spoons.

As Agnes licked a drip from her finger, she asked, “Who sent
them?”

Jean looked for a note in the basket, and finding none,
queried the footman. He replied simply, “I am to say they are from a friend.”

Since Lord Milford was not present, she supposed he might be
included in a list of whom she should thank for the treats, but she was fairly
certain he was not the responsible party. She spooned a bite of the maple
glacée and let it melt on her tongue, the sweetness and cold spreading through
her mouth.

Mama called to her from the seating area near the unlit
fireplace. “Your friend is quite thoughtful, sending so many of these.”

“Isn’t he, though?” Jean responded. The look in Mrs.
Granderson’s eye said she knew something she wasn’t letting on, which confirmed
Jean’s suspicions. Mr. Tilbury was also notably absent, and a more obvious
benefactor.

Jean leaned close to Agnes and whispered, “I believe the
culprit is the nephew of the house.”

“Culprit? Why do you call him such? I would be delighted if
a gentleman sent me a basket filled with ices and glacées.”

“I am a little surprised he is not here to witness his prank
himself.”

“Prank? I do not follow. You make this gesture sound so
malicious.”

“There are four gentlemen here, Agnes, each of whom is now
knowingly eating an ice sent to me by another man. What must they be thinking?”

Agnes laughed softly and looked about the room. “I hadn’t
thought of it that way. You are quite right. The Smythe sisters are smiling,
obviously enjoying theirs, but Mr. Portwine and Mr. Chambers appear to be
sucking lemons. What a lark.”

Glancing again at Mrs. Granderson, Jean found the woman
studying her. Would she report to her nephew how the gift was received? Jean
simply smiled and took another bite. She credited the man with originality, if
not a measure of spite that she continued to receive calls from other men. Yet
the maple’s sweetness soured slightly the more she thought on it. Here was
another example of Mr. Tilbury’s flaunting his sudden wealth. Did he think her
so poor she could be enticed into accepting his betrothal simply by buying her
gifts?

Two nights later, she had the opportunity to ask him this.
Mrs. Granderson had invited Jean and Mrs. Seton to attend the theater and sit
in the box belonging to her particular friend, Lord Everton. Jean was not at
all surprised when Mr. Tilbury arrived, alone, just before the curtain went up.

Jean sat between him and her mother without speaking a word
through the entire first act. When intermission came, he offered to allow her
to stretch her legs. Needing some way to disperse the displeasure simmering
inside her, she accepted his arm and stepped into the crowded passageway.

It was the wrong place to speak to him, but she had little
choice when he said, “My aunt tells me you received a basket of ices recently.
What an odd gift for anyone to send.”

“Do not play coy with me, Mr. Tilbury. I am not so naïve as
to not know who sent the gift.” Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the tight
inflection from her voice. “It was very presumptuous of you. A gentleman
wouldn’t send gifts to a lady knowing how it might reflect on her character.”

He smiled and was pushed against her by the crowd. “Forgive
me. This is a bad spot to hold a conversation. Shall we keep moving? I hadn’t
meant to presume anything, but merely thought you would enjoy the sweets.”

“And so you sent them during your aunt’s
at home
hour, making certain there were enough that even the gentlemen callers must
partake of them.”

His lips pulled down in a mock frown. “I couldn’t send just
one…”

“But why send any?” Jean whispered loudly, wanting to be
heard by him, but only him. “I do not wish you to spend any more money on me
than you already have.”

Closing her eyes, she realized how that would sound to
anyone nearby. She could be ruining her reputation in the eyes of the
ton
.
She should return to her mother and wait to speak to Mr. Tilbury when they were
in the privacy of Mrs. Granderson’s home.

Mr. Tilbury wouldn’t drop the subject. “I thought only of my
aunt and her guests and had no other motive. Your brother would wish me to see
that your visit to London is everything you wish it to be.”

She mentally thanked him for that bit, should anyone be
eavesdropping. But she hoped he could see in her eyes what she wanted to say.
“Gilbert wouldn’t expect any favors that might be misunderstood by others.”

He gazed down as her when they reached the box, but didn’t
pull aside the curtain right away. “I wrote to Gilbert several weeks ago, so
there may be no misunderstanding of my intentions.”

Jean’s lips parted to reply, but no words came out. No words
formed in her mind, as if it went completely numb. Mr. Tilbury led her to her
seat, spoke with his aunt and her friend, then sat beside Jean as the curtain
rose for the next act.

The nerve of the man. He’d written to her brother of his
intentions without even telling her what he planned. Gilbert might assume she
wished to accept Mr. Tilbury’s offer, when at that moment she wasn’t certain if
he suggested marriage or some less-than-proper arrangement. Not that it
mattered, because she had no desire for any sort of relationship with him and
planned to tell him as soon as she had the chance.

Not in a passageway with every busybody in London looking
for the latest tidbit. She was not someone who should draw anyone’s notice, if
she weren’t standing with a gentleman known to have recently come into an
inheritance of grand proportions. She planned to remain beneath everyone’s
notice even after the end of the Season, when hopefully she would retire to the
country to plan her wedding. To a man of her choosing.

Her wedding. Was it only a few months ago she’d been
daydreaming of the event? Which of the new gowns she’d ordered would suit a
simple ceremony in a country church, as she couldn’t see herself ever marrying
in Westminster Abbey or any church in London. It didn’t matter whom she married,
a duke, earl or captain, she wasn’t suited to grand gatherings.

The presence of the gentleman beside her continually
intruded into her thoughts. His clean scent encroached upon her. He rarely
moved during the play, yet she was certain she felt every time his arm shifted
when he inhaled.

Jean no longer had any clue what the performance was about
and hoped her mother wouldn’t ask later. It couldn’t be over soon enough to
suit her. She needed to get far away from Mr. Tilbury.

* * * * *

Ben arrived at his aunt’s home early in the afternoon after
sending a note asking Miss Seton if she cared to take a drive. He’d been
slightly surprised when she responded she would. She’d been so annoyed with him
at Drury Lane, and he wasn’t certain what he’d done to incur her wrath. It
couldn’t be the ices that caused her distress.

He knew her well enough to know she’d tell him in no
uncertain terms, should she still be angry.

Miss Seton greeted him with a frosty smile as she pulled on
her gloves. “Mr. Tilbury, how delightful.”

“I’m as delighted as you are, if not more so.” It took every
measure of strength he had not to laugh at the narrowing of her eyes that
earned him.

“Where shall we drive today? Hyde Park again? It’s rather
early to go there.”

“If you wish. Or we can take a casual route and see some of
the grander homes. Would you enjoy that?”

She looked off in the distance as he settled into the
phaeton beside her. “Yes, I believe I would,” she said softly.

“Mayfair it is, then.” The air was warm, reminding Ben the
Season would be winding down soon. He needed to press his suit before Jean had
other offers to consider, since she only had one Season to make her choice. It
shouldn’t be so. He should trust that she’d turn down any other offer to be
with him, but he knew that wasn’t true. And he couldn’t come straight out and
ask if there were gentlemen she might be considering. “Will you be returning to
Hambledon at the end of the Season?”

“Yes. I shall be happy to see my home again.”

“Gilbert didn’t speak much of home. Did you have a happy
childhood there?”

“As happy as most, I should imagine.”

“Your parents had a happy marriage?”

She was quiet so long he looked down at her. She fiddled
with her gloves, a habit he’d noticed when she was uncomfortable with the
topic.

“I’m sorry, that is rather forward of me. I shouldn’t ask
such personal questions.”

“No.” She folded her hands in her lap. “You have the right
to ask, with all we’ve been through. I’m not used to speaking of my family,
though.”

“Would you prefer to ask about mine? You knew my
grandfather, the fishing magnate. He didn’t spend a lot of time with his
children, as is often the case. My father preferred work also. My mother never
complained in my hearing, but she might have done so to her friends.”

“You weren’t close to either of your parents?”