Scandalous Miss Brightwells [Book 1-4]

desire she’d read in Mr Grayling’s face as she’d sat beside him in the carriage. She swallowed. Her throat felt thick, her skim clammy and at the same time a feeling of such longing seemed to invade her whole being she had to look away.

“Indeed Aunt Minerva would not give Thea up, but that is not at issue here,” Fanny said, with a touch of asperity, as if her husband were being perfectly stupid. “Thea is a beauty and she has caught the eye of Mr Grayling, for whom she feels a considerable degree of…affection.” She patted her husband’s hand, smiling at him before transferring her gaze to Thea. “What we need to deduce is how to ensure Mr Grayling comes to value the strength of Thea’s feelings for him.”

The equable tone of Fenton’s response would have been surprising, had Thea not observed that he held his wife’s intelligence in the highest regard. “I’m sure you’ve already hit upon the perfect cunning plan.” He transferred his fond gaze from his wife’s lively countenance to study Thea with considered concern. “That is, provided Thea has no objections.”

“No objections to what?” Confused by the sense of shared understanding between everyone else, Thea scanned each face. Antoinette’s full mouth was turned up by the wickedest pucker and her eyes danced; Fanny looked serenely self-satisfied; and Fenton looked…well, as handsome and devoted a husband as Thea longed to make of…Mr Grayling?

All of a sudden she was trembling, the kernel of hope growing within her that perhaps some day she, too, like her cousins, could orchestrate a future more fulfilling than any she could hope for in her current circumstances.

“Thea, I think you should come to my room before lunch,” Fanny told her, while Fenton continued to surreptitiously fondle her ungloved hand on the sofa between them. On the surface she appeared as dignified as her position required but Thea did not miss the colluding look she and Antoinette exchanged.

Then Fanny returned her attention to Thea, her eyes dancing with merriment before she sobered. “Of course, Lord Fenton is right to be concerned. Once—you may have heard—my darling Fenton was London’s most notorious rake, so he’s the first to know how easily an innocent young woman, untutored in the ways of this wicked world, can come to grief. Happily, he is now a reformed rake,” she looked smug, “and you can rest assured that with a little help and tuition from your Brightwell cousins, all of us are only too ready to ensure you make a success of this rare opportunity to snare a man’s interest from under your aunt’s nose.”

Chapter 7

ALL that was needed was a plan. A cunning plan, and no one had mastered the cunning plan better than Fanny.

Fanny had nearly lost Fenton after she’d surrendered her all, assuming that as a gentleman he would do the honourable thing. Then Fanny’s nemesis, the odious George Bramley, had whipped up the vilest rumours about Fanny’s suitability as a wife, so that Fenton had in fact offered Fanny a secret little bower and her own carriage rather than a ring and a title.

Well, Fanny had won her position as Lady Fenton through some very clever maneuvering. Not only had she secured her position in society as Fenton’s wife, she’d secured his affection, too.

Such marital success was just what she had in mind for her cousin. Thea was the most deserving candidate but she also provided Fanny with excellent material to work with. The girl was lovely in both looks and nature, and she was intelligent and pliant, too. She wanted marital success and to give up her parsimonious existence as Aunt Brightwell’s companion, and Fanny had no doubt Thea would prove obedient to all Fanny’s ministrations and instruction.

Not that Fanny intended Thea to know every detail of how she and her siblings planned to orchestrate her fate. That wasn’t necessary at all and, in fact, would be most unhelpful. Thea was less daring than Fanny, and a lot less outrageous and immoral than Antoinette. She’d be a reluctant protégé if she knew what her cousins intended. No, Thea would have to be managed like a slightly temperamental thoroughbred, but no doubt that delicacy of temperament was more likely to appeal to Mr Grayling. Fanny’s investigations had revealed a man who did not favour the bold and the brash but rather the beautiful and bashful.

So on a crisp June morning, when the flower beds by the castle walls were in full bloom, Fanny persuaded Thea to accompany her riding at an hour considerably earlier than Fanny, certainly, was inclined to take her exercise. Lolling in bed with Fenton was decidedly the best way to while away the morning hours, but Fanny was never one to shirk her duty when it came to furthering the collective interests of the once maligned Brightwells. Yes, she was definitely prepared to endure a degree of sacrifice for the satisfaction of seeing her cunning plan bear fruit in the shortest possible time. Fanny in fact was determined to hear wedding bells peal by the end of July at the very latest.

“I never took you for a sportswoman, Fanny,” Thea panted as they crested a hill and brought their mounts to a halt. The valley spread out before them: a patchwork of variegated greens interspersed with woodland. Thea sighed. “What an utterly charming vista. I could live here forever.”

“Then you’re far more the country bumpkin than I am, Thea.” Fanny smiled. “Give me the hustle and bustle of the city any day. I immerse myself in the country for a short time on a regular basis so that when desperation hits its peak, I can throw myself back into what I truly love, and enjoy it all the more.”

Her cousin looked at her in astonishment. “I thought people only lived in town when they had no other choice. Why, I grew up in the country and it’s the only place I’d choose to be. Even Bath is too bustling for me.”

“Then we’ll have to find a nice quiet country barrister with a self-deprecating demeanour to fall in love with you, Thea, for any man of ambition is going to want to live in the city.”

Thea raised her eyes to the skies, where a weak sun was attempting to punch through the thick cloud cover. “Oh, I’m prepared to make compromises, Cousin Fanny,” she murmured. “Perhaps I’m not so fond of town because I’m always perceived as the poor relation, and believe me, there’s nothing worse than that. I just wanted to crawl under the bed every time mama tried to entice me to attend an entertainment with her, both of us dressed in the fashions of three seasons ago.”

Fanny could see how this was a likely contributor to Thea’s jaundiced views on living in London. “Don’t imagine I was in a better financial position, dearest. It was my mama’s ambition that saw us fitted out in the latest. She gambled every last penny on outfitting Antoinette and me for our final season. I can tell you, the pressure was considerable, knowing that if we failed to secure the wealth and titles Mama desired for us, we were destined to spend our days like you, mouldering in the country as unpaid companions to Aunt Brightwell.”

Thea levelled a half-envious, half-desperate look upon her cousin. “Goodness, so I’m the one living the life you’d have lived had your courageous efforts not won Fenton over.” With the reins slung loosely over one wrist, she clasped her hands and pleaded, “If you have any suggestions as to how I might win Mr Grayling’s high regard, do tell me, Fanny. I really am all at sea when it comes to knowing how to behave with a gentleman. Especially one like Mr Grayling, who sends my heart into such palpitations I can barely force out a sentence.”

Fanny felt a great surge of satisfaction at hearing this. Securing Thea’s marital aspirations was going to be far easier than she’d thought since her cousin was clearly proving so malleable.

“Why, good lord, I do believe that’s Mr Grayling himself coming towards us!” Fanny exclaimed. The girls shaded their eyes, squinting into the distance as a dark-clad, indistinct figure on horseback assumed all the right proportions, emerging through a final copse of trees as…Mr Grayling.

Fanny leaned across the small space that separated them to say to her cousin, “I suggest you appear interested but not too bright and eager. A certain whimsical lethargy might be in order as you feel your way with any unknown gentleman.” She hesitated, adding, “That is, before you know what they’re truly after.”

Thea nod

ded.

“What a delightful surprise it is to see you, ladies.”

Mr Grayling doffed his hat and as he focused his pleasure upon Thea, Fanny was pleased to observe that while the planes of his angular face indicated a determined character, she could discern no suggestion of cruelty. She’d made such studies a feature of her sizing up of the male contingent ever since her painful encounter with Lord Slyther, the disgusting libertine her mother had chosen to foist upon her if Fanny failed to secure an acceptable match. Fenton often whispered stories of a man’s true character, his predilection for certain activities that were demeaning or demoralizing to those weaker than himself, and Fanny was always assiduous, when meeting the said gentleman in a social setting, in ascertaining whether an unguarded look, or faint grooves about the mouth might bear up such an undesirable streak.

Fortunately, Fenton had heard only good regarding Mr Grayling and now, as Fanny studied him, she saw only determination, ambition and a very decided interest as he narrowed his eyes and, studying Thea closely, asked, “You are not worn out after your ride, Miss Brightwell? From a distance I saw both of you fair galloping up the hill.” He smiled. “You’re very flushed.”

Thea blinked and opened her mouth to speak but Fanny said quickly but with bolstering sympathy, “Darling Thea will prove to us all just how…robust she is. Yet she is worn out—aren’t you, dearest? —while I am just itching to put Major through his paces.” She tilted her head and looked enquiringly at her cousin. “Why don’t you allow Mr Grayling to take you for a gentle stroll over to that fallen log, where you can rest for a few minutes while I give Major his head?”