Scandalous Miss Brightwells [Book 1-4]

Such ridiculous chatter and such outrageous sums. It was as much as Zebediah had to spend on himself and a wife in a year.

But the truth was, Zebediah Horne did have enough to live modestly with a meek and obedient wife who did not demand what he could not provide. A wife who’d be grateful for any kind of life that was better than playing handmaiden to an impossible-to-please old woman.

Bolstered by the irrefutable knowledge that there were few women as demanding, if not downright unpleasant as Minerva Brightwell—and by contrast, few women as meek, pliable, undemanding and potentially grateful as Miss Thea Brightwell—Zebediah reached the top of the stairs as the young Lady Quamby turned from the bottom to call out, “Perhaps you’ve brought some temper-restoring draught for dear Aunt Minerva, who is venting her spleen yet again upon poor Cousin Thea. I do hope you are as successful at restoring calm as you are in relieving Aunt Minerva’s bunions.”

The maidservant who let him into the invalid’s drawing room a little further down the passage looked uncertain as she told him to waiting while she advised her mistress of his arrival; and indeed Minerva Brightwell’s glowering presence in the doorway moments later brought immediately to mind Lady Quamby’s words.

“What brings you here, Dr Horne?” she demanded, taking a couple of steps into the centre of the Aubusson carpet and looking as if she were about to throw him out. “I did not summon you.”

“The fact is, I have come to speak to your niece, Miss Brightwell,” he stammered.

The crease between her brows deepened and she cocked her head. “Thea? Thea is perfectly robust, thank you. A little too robust for her own good, I’d venture to add.”

“Delighted to hear it.” He cleared his throat nervously. “She was looking a little pale when I observed her at the christening the other day.”

Miss Brightwell’s face darkened. “Pale? I’d say she was looking a little flushed, if anything. Not a day that was a success, by anyone’s standards. So tell me, doctor, what do you wish to speak to Thea about?”

Zebediah felt himself flush to the roots of his hair. “The fact is, Miss Brightwell, before I speak to Miss Thea, I must speak to you first. You are the one into whose gentle care the girl has been placed and you have the authority, nay, the power, to make me a very happy man—or otherwise.”

Minerva Brightwell moved her regal, Pomona-green-upholstered bulk a few threatening steps towards him. “What are you talking about, Dr Horne?”

Zebediah mopped his sweating brow and glanced from the fire in the grate to his erstwhile patient. “I have not made myself very plain, I see that. The fact is, I had hoped I might make…that is, I might prevail upon…” He took a deep breath before saying in a rush, “I should very much like to make your niece an offer of marriage.”

Miss Brightwell looked first horrified, and then offended, and then, to his surprise, she burst out laughing. “Good lord, Dr Horne. You? You of all people wish to make my niece an offer?”

He felt the substance in his legs turn to jelly, and the disappointment in his gut poison his marrow. Strange how strong such sensations were when it was not so long ago he’d even conceived the idea. Yet the idea of feeling the warmth of a strong, young female body cleaving to his own had almost obsessed him since he’d come up with it.

“Of course, there must be many who would be contenders for the young lady’s affections, I realise that—”

“For her affections, yes, but not for her hand in marriage, Dr Horne. No, do not look so dejected. I assure you I’m not discounting your offer. In fact, the more I regard an idea I’d at first thought preposterous, the more I see merit in it. You see, I have hopes of finding myself in receipt of just such an unexpected proposal. From unexpected quarters, I have been strongly led to believe. Yes, it is true.” She simpered, and he watched, fascinated, the mesmerising effect of her triple chin floating into the sea of her ample body. “Thea might then be in need of a home, so perhaps a marriage offer for poor Thea is just the solution.” She gave a decisive nod. “I appreciate your visit, Dr Horne, but I shall first speak to my niece. She must have some warning of what you are about to offer, for I fear she will hardly believe it is true.”

Chapter 17

NOR did Thea believe it was something her aunt would countenance in a hundred years. “I can’t marry Dr Horne! I won’t!” she gasped, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace not half an hour after the good doctor had been shown out. “Oh, Aunt Minerva, what have I done that you’d force me to do such a thing?” It was hard to keep the tears from her voice as she turned an imploring look towards the older woman.

“I couldn’t force you, Thea, but I could certainly persuade you of the merits. Have you not always wished for the comforts of home and hearth? A husband and children to dote upon?”

Thea brought her apron up to cover her eyes and let out a little sob. Little George’s christening was fresh in her mind and it was true, she desperately wanted to be a mother. But…only to Mr Grayling’s children!

With difficulty, she stifled the further sobs that accompanied thoughts of the lovely gentleman who’d not made contact since the christening three days previously. He’d initiated her into the secrets of joyful abandon, and then that’s exactly what he’d done—abandoned her.

Had she been misled by her cousins? Was her wantonness abhorrent? Or had he merely found her disappointing? Was there something repellent about her body? She simply did not know, and the more she broke her heart over questioning Mr Grayling’s feelings, the more uncertain she felt about everything else in life.

Now Aunt Minerva was not only telling her Dr Horne had come to seek her aunt’s permission to offer marriage to Thea, but that Thea would be best to accept it.

“But what about you, Aunt Minerva?” she asked, pausing in the midst of her agitation. “I thought you were not about to countenance my marrying anyone because you needed me!”

“It’s true, and I may well find that I need you more than Dr Horne needs you, but your cousins have made it clear only a selfish old woman would prevent you from following your heart and discovering the joys of motherhood. If I had my time again, I’d have played my cards differently and I’d not be the spinster I am today. I have no wish to see you subjected to the same fate, Thea.”

Thea stared at her aunt. “I’d not be following my heart to marry Dr Horne, Aunt Minerva,” she said. “And I always thought you were inf

initely delighted at not having to answer to a husband.”

Her aunt looked thoughtful. In fact, a strange wistfulness crossed her features as she settled herself comfortably in her armchair and fingered the corners of her shawl. “The truth is, the novelty’s worn off, Thea.” Her look became enigmatic as the corners of her mouth turned up. “And now that a certain gentleman has begun to communicate secretly with me, offering me the chance I brushed off years ago, it is my duty to think of you and your future.” She fixed Thea with a level stare. “If you have a better offer than Dr Horne’s, my girl, then by all means I’d encourage you to take it.” She shrugged and raised her palms outwards. Otherwise I really don’t know where you’ll live.”

“A better offer than Dr Horne’s,” Thea sobbed half an hour later, raising red and swollen eyes from Antoinette’s bed and encountering the concerned looks of both her cousins. “I haven’t heard from Mr Grayling since…since I…” She couldn’t finish, breaking into fresh sobs as Antoinette and Fanny exchanged glances. They knew exactly what Thea was talking about.

“I’m sure there’s a good reason,” Antoinette offered weakly. “Perhaps he’s just gone away unexpectedly.”