Scandalous Miss Brightwells [Book 1-4]

She pushed the thought away quickly but the hope remained. Perhaps Mr Grayling truly did have intentions towards her that would see him making her an offer. She’d felt the attraction between them from the start and barely moments before they’d crossed a very serious line. She’d demonstrated that the strength of her feelings equalled his and that she was not repulsed by what went on in private.

“Such a picture of domestic bliss and harmony.”

Unfortunately it was George Bramley, and not Mr Grayling, who spoke. Thea tried to smile but the distrust she felt made it difficult.

Antoinette stroked her baby’s head and pressed her cheek against it for a moment. “He is a darling, isn’t he, but Thea is so much better with babies than I am. She’s just made to be a mother.”

“While you’re made for…?” Mr Bramley’s half-posed question made Thea squirm with sudden horror. She glanced between Mr Grayling, Antoinette and Mr Bramley and saw the combative gleam in Mr Bramley’s eye, which Antoinette met with a giggle.

“Oh, you are too terrible, Mr Bramley. Just because Lord Quamby and I are the perfect match for each other and, I will admit, enjoy society’s revels, doesn’t mean we don’t dote on young George, and that I’m not a good mother when I need to be. You’re a very special uncle, and now you’re George’s godfather and can see as much of him as you wish.”

“Not exactly what I meant,” muttered Mr Bramley.

Still feeling uncomfortable, Thea tried to turn the subject. “Shall we seat ourselves over there? Bertram is waving us over.”

By a pond, a cluster of seating had been arranged for the guests and the scene was charming and inviting. The Quamby Estate was magnificent, Thea thought, casting her eye over the gently rolling hills of the gardens, which contained many opportunities for rambles and gatherings like this.

“I’ve just persuaded Fenton to build me a folly,” Fanny declared as she sank onto a plush crimson tasseled cushion. “Just like that one over there.” She pointed to further up the river’s edge where part of the mosaic roof of the Oriental Pavilion glittered in the sun.

“Sisterly rivalry,” Mr Bramley remarked, pretending to be jocular, Thea noticed. She wished she’d not been so inclusive in her invitation, for she’d expected Mr Bramley to move to other company when the rest of them went over to join Bertram.

“Not rivalry, exactly, for I did much better when I married dear Quamby, who is an earl, to Fanny’s chagrin, for she had always enjoyed outranking me.” Antoinette simpered playfully across at her sister. “Now of course I get precedence. I’m sure that’s why Fanny always has to have the most a la mode bonnets trimmed with the biggest blooms.”

“It’s my life’s mission,” Fanny responded drily, with a smile at her husband. “Poor me, having to satisfy myself with a mere viscount.”

“I might see myself elevated yet, my dear, thanks to the shaky family line. One never knows who’s going to drop off the perch without the expected heir.” He raised an eyebrow and looked directly at Mr Grayling. Thea noticed that when Lord Fenton spoke, everyone listened. There was a commanding quality to his discourse despite the fact he had also been an acknowledged rake. Now it seemed he was directing his energies towards the more noble pursuits of public office. She’d heard his name mentioned with regard to an important government sinecure.

Perhaps, Thea thought wistfully, she, too, might have the same happy influence on Mr Grayling after he’d asked her to be his—

She drew herself up at the thought. Matters between them were far from settled. Yet when she glanced at Mr Grayling she found that his own gaze was resting with considerable fondness upon her and her heart lurched.

“There were many who questioned my choice of wife when I could have chosen an heiress.” She realised Lord Fenton was speaking and that everyone was listening so dutifully she turned her attention towards her cousin’s handsome husband. “But we are allotted such a few short years on this planet, they may as well be happy ones.”

“I heard a story,” said Mr Bramley loudly, clearing his throat, “along those lines.”

“Pray tell, Mr Bramley,” Fenton invited, leaning back in his chair, seeming very relaxed. “Of harmony versus pecuniary desire? There are so many of them, but I’d choose marital felicity any day.”

Thea inclined her head, politeness forcing her now to look at Mr Bramley, a man she found personally repugnant and who she knew her cousins regarded as their gravest foe. Yet here he was, in their midst by virtue of being, of course, baby George’s godfather. She nearly choked on the knowledge that, in fact, he was so much more, and wondered how many others knew it.

“It was a friend who told me, actually, of someone he knew, and his pecuniary considerations were decidedly at the fore.” Mr Bramley leaned forward and tapped his fingers upon the table as he gazed about the company, one brow raised as if to ensure he had everyone’s attention. There seemed a coiled tenseness about him that, Thea was sure, made not just her feel uncomfortable, and she wondered how Cousin Antoinette had ever found him attractive. “Nevertheless,” Mr Bramley went on, “to make his plan work, he dressed his intentions up as good works in the guise of marital felicity being the intended outcome.”

“Anyone for champagne?”

Thea was surprised at the haste with which Bertram stood up. He brushed back his errant hair and fiddled with his stock, clearly agitated, but Antoinette said mildly, “No need, brother dear. We have servants for that, and here is one now. I say, what a lovely day it is. Mr Grayling, do you not think so?”

“It has been a very lovely day.”

Thea felt something akin to warm treacle flood her, inside and out, seemingly, as Mr Grayling smiled across the table at her. It was as if he were secretly communicating with her that not only had matters just now gone very much to his satisfaction, he certainly intended continuing in this direction.

Thea shivered with anticipation while Mr Bramley cleared his throat and raised his voice. “Yes, this friend of mine,” he persisted, “was most anxious that his lively and attractive cousin should not be overlooked purely on account of her parlous pecuniary situation. In other words, she had not a feather to fly with, poor girl, and was reduced to living on the handouts of a wealthy relative.”

Poor young woman, thought Thea. She sounds exactly like me. She hoped the story had a happy ending.

“So this friend hit upon an ingenious plan in order to snare a particular gentleman who would have been interested in making the young lady an offer, but only if she had money.”

“I say, Mr Grayling,” Fanny interrupted, waving a languid hand in Thea’s direction, “perhaps you’d like to take Cousin Thea for a walk to the refreshments table while Mr Bramley finishes his story. She’s been eyeing the strawberries longingly since she sat down.”

Mr Grayling looked both surprised and pleased as he rose obediently and offered Thea his arm which she took with alacrity, though she hesitated because she did want to hear the end of Mr Bramley’s story.