Scandalous Miss Brightwells [Book 1-4]

Thea looked at her aunt askance before ducking her head to concentrate once more on her handiwork. She swallowed as she summoned the courage to respond for she was not prepared to let this pass. “So when did you receive your first marriage offer, Aunt?” she murmured.

The older woman shifted in her seat. “I was eighteen when I was courted by a certain gentleman to whom I made clear I had no interest. In the twenty-seven years since I couldn’t tell you, there’ve been so many.”

“So you’ve never wanted to marry, then?”

Aunt Minerva’s sudden stillness was telling and it looked as though she was going to take advantage of the reprieve offered by John Coachman, who shouted down from the box at t

hat moment, telling them that Lord Quamby’s estate was just beyond the rise.

In the dimness of the carriage interior, Thea saw her aunt’s chin wobble as she dabbed at her eyes with a piece of embroidered linen and sniffed. “There was one gentleman, but that was a long time ago. Twenty years ago, in fact.”

Thea’s heart was easily engaged. She leaned over to pat her aunt’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’s never stopped thinking of the chance that slipped away, Aunt Minerva,” she whispered.

“He ought to be tormented by regret after the dishonourable way he treated me!” her aunt snapped, flicking away her niece’s hand. “Now shoulders back, Thea, and sit up straight. You already know how little I think of your cousin and her husband but they’re nobility. An earl and his countess can do whatever they like. You, however, need to mind every move you make.”

Chapter 2

WHAT a relief it was to step beyond the heavy atmosphere of the carriage and be welcomed by first Antoinette’s cheerful greeting, and then her sister’s, as the cousins gracefully descended the front steps of Lord Quamby’s townhouse.

“And you’re already here too, Fanny. I’d not expected you!” Thea had always admired Fanny’s dark looks and the feisty temperament her cousin hid beneath a veneer of polished sophistication. Now she gazed at her with undisguised admiration as Fanny directed them to a comfortable cluster of seats, as if she were just as much the hostess as her sister, whose home this was.

Antoinette, the younger, could not have been more different from Fanny, with her golden hair and her pink and white complexion. Antoinette exuded innocence. Thea was still trying to decide if her younger cousin was incredibly intelligent but went to great pains to hide the fact, or whether she really was the beautiful little peagoose the family painted, who, despite being a penniless debutante with a dubious reputation, had managed to snare an earl.

Either way, Thea reflected with a pang as refreshments were ordered, the two cousins were shining beacons advertising life’s possibilities, compared with dull and dutiful Thea.

“Thought I’d still be lying-in?” Fanny put her hand to her now flat belly while her lips curved into the wicked smile for which she was famed. “I didn’t need to spend a whole month staring at the ceiling when I was ready to dance a jig the moment the little monkey was out in the world.”

Thea glanced at her aunt and wasn’t surprised by her pursed mouth. Aunt Minerva, however, managed to hold her tongue though Thea knew she’d not have hesitated to rebuke her niece when Fanny was unmarried. Now Fanny was a viscountess and she had precedence over Aunt Minerva, who was now just the spinster daughter of a lowly baron, though one would never guess it given her airs. Aunt Minerva had inherited a fortune, though, and that stood for something. Something she did not hesitate to use over Thea as both threat and inducement.

Still, Fanny and Antoinette had managed to acquire both title and fortune. Thea never got tired of hearing the astonishing stories of how Fanny had won the heart of rakish Lord Fenton, and how Antoinette had later happily accepted the hand of the aging Earl of Quamby, who had originally been betrothed to Fanny. She’d learned not to bring up the subject in her aunt’s hearing.

“And when can I see the new heir?” Thea asked. “Both of them,” she added, for Antoinette’s child had been born six weeks earlier than Fanny’s.

Antoinette raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Why, Thea, you’ve only just arrived and already you’re talking babies. I hope you won’t become a bore, but then you always were fond of the dirty, squalling little things, weren’t you? And to be sure, little George has his sweet moments, but he’s a tiresome child for the most part who does nothing terribly interesting, unless you consider sleeping, feeding and crying worthy of note.”

“Unlike my Katherine, who is as agreeable as her dear father,” Fanny interjected with a smile as she smoothed down her skirts. “Antoinette has never been the maternal kind, but fortunately she did recognise the importance of producing a lusty heir for Quamby who, but for her, might have died childless.” She pressed her lips together, clearly mindful of not breaking into an unseemly laugh in Aunt Minerva’s hearing, causing Thea, who’d heard whispers of some unmentionable scandal, to blush.

“Well, I saved Quamby from having to hand over everything to his awful nephew, George Bramley, didn’t I?” Antoinette, reaching across to offer Thea a plate of sugar biscuits, looked smug before she sobered. “A word of warning, though, Thea. I hear Bramley is in town.” She nibbled at her biscuit but her expression remained serious. “Once he learns there’s another Brightwell on the lookout for a husband, you can be assured he’ll do his best to blight your prospects with all sorts of awful rumours. He tried to spoil our chances but Fanny and I were too clever for him. We had the last laugh, didn’t we, Fanny?”

Thea noticed that Fanny sent a rather quelling look at her younger sister, whose irrepressible gaiety certainly was at odds with what Thea would have expected of a new mother, and a countess, to boot.

Fanny, for once, appeared to choose her words carefully. “Antoinette is right that you should beware of George Bramley, but that is all I wish to say on the subject. Yes, Thea, you shall visit the nursery in good time, but first you must tell us all your news before you become distracted with our divinely angelic infants. I’m sure you’ve endless stories with which to divert us of the past six months you’ve been living with Aunt Minerva, for that is when we last saw you. Six months ago.”

“And then tomorrow night we shall go to the Assembly Rooms.” Antoinette clapped her hands together, her eyes shining like a child’s. “You’ve never been, have you, Thea? No, Aunt Minerva never takes you anywhere, does she? No offence intended, Aunt Minerva, but you’re not one for high revels and that’s understandable at your age, but tomorrow we shan’t let you sit out an evening when there’ll be such wonderful entertainment on hand.” She smiled ingenuously at her relative. “You shall enjoy the food and cards, and the rest of us can enjoy the dancing.”

“I doubt if we shall have recovered from our journey so soon,” Aunt Minerva responded in quelling tones with a sharp look at Thea.

Antoinette looked disappointed before she brightened. “Oh well, but we shall wait and see how you are feeling in the morning, shall we? I know Quamby was looking forward to escorting you, Aunt.”

Thea looked sharply between the two. Perhaps Antionette was well aware, contrary to her apparent ingenuousness, that Aunt Minerva would find the idea of being escorted anywhere by an earl—regardless of his reputation—far too great an enticement to resist.

Her aunt, however, was not about to give any of them reason to hope. “Time will tell, Antoinette. If my gouty foot is playing up, Thea will have to remain behind to soothe it with unguents, for though she’s a drain on the purse she is the best nurse I’ve had.”

Thea studied the pattern on the teacup she was handed while pretending not to notice the horrified looks her cousins exchanged. A pang of misery completely quelled the excitement she’d allowed to build. So this was how it was to be? The much lauded visit to Bath was only so Aunt Minerva could claim she’d been housed by an earl, while she eschewed every other diversion on offer—and kept her niece in proverbial leg irons, attending to her multitude of imaginary ailments.

“Oh, but Aunt, you simply can’t stay here. You must go out with us so…we can boast to society we’re entertaining a diamond of the first water, knowing how many disappointed suitors you’ve discarded at your feet.” Antoinette’s concern was replaced by pleasure at having come up with something so convincing, Thea could tell. She managed to hide her amusement as she noticed the way her aunt puffed up her chest.

“I am in no position to say, today, how I shall feel tomorrow,” her aunt nevertheless said crisply. “I am frequently beset by the most debilitating ailments, which visit me entirely without warning.”