Scandalous Miss Brightwells [Book 1-4]

Miserably Thea explained, “He was a suitor in her youth whom she rejected more than twenty years ago. She was greatly upset by the fact that he was supposed to repeat his marriage offer only he didn’t. And now, twenty years later, he has.”

Miss Huntingdon’s surprise turned to confusion. “I do beg pardon, but Mr Granville appeared greatly taken with my second cousin who is…well, a fair young lady with a substantial portion.”

“What! Even fairer than the esteemed Miss Minerva Brightwell?” Bertram demanded as if he couldn’t believe such a thing. “Well, it appears your second cousin is going to be disappointed since clearly Mr Granville has rekindled his romance with my aunt and intends to propose to her in the Oriental Pavilion.”

Sylvester had had enough. Enough of his propensity for making excuses and of not being true to his heart and to his beliefs regarding what made for a good and worthwhile life.

He wanted to feel worthwhile and right now, crossing the lawn towards where he saw Clunes in conversation with several gentlemen, he was more conflicted that he had ever been.

He’d felt a cad disappointing Miss Huntingdon but it had been necessary to ease his conscience. Yet had he been premature? What was behind Miss Brightwell’s meaning? Was she toying with him to test his feelings for her? It seemed out of character and, furthermore, extraordinary that after his note of last night to her, requesting that she meet him at the Pavilion, she should publicly inform him she intended accepting Dr Horne. Perhaps it was a ruse for the benefit of her cousins and Miss Huntingdon. Perhaps she was trying to throw them off the scent in order to meet him at the Pavilion, after all. It was confusing and Sylvester didn’t like feeling confused.

That’s why he liked Miss Brightwell so much. She didn’t play games. She was completely transparent and honest.

Which meant her words with regard to accepting Dr Horne were out of character.

Yes indeed! Miss Brightwell was the sweetest, most innocent creature he’d ever met and these were the qualities he esteemed: pure goodness and a complete lack of guile.

He was within hailing distance of Clunes when he heard a breathless voice from behind, calling for him.

“Mr Grayling! My Grayling! Wait!”

He hesitated, turned, then when he saw it was Miss Brightwell, was unprepared for the complete disorderly beat of his heart as he s

tepped a little off the path so they were partly concealed by several large saplings.

She reached his side, her expression intense as if she had something of great importance to say, her words labored as she burst out, “Whatever you have to tell me doesn’t alter my opinion of you. My father couldn’t afford my mother’s…material needs and it made the whole family very unhappy. I wouldn’t do that to any child of mine and I truly understand your feelings of honour and why you’d hold that as a very important factor when making your decision.” Her smile was tremulous as she put her hand on his wrist, her look appealing. “We must both make decisions that may not be what we want but what are for the best; that is, when everyone else is taken into account.”

He was touched by her sincerity. Her sentiments were so much as he’d have expected from her and that was why he loved her. She thought about everyone else before she thought of herself. She was too good for him but suddenly he was struck by the most earth-shattering realisation. By Gad he was going to marry her, regardless of what Clunes had to say. Or his mother. Or anyone.

With a quick glance behind her he gripped her shoulders, forcing her into the shadows, he whispered, “Will you kiss me in the seclusion of that small thicket over there?”

Wide-eyed, she nodded.

“You’d do so, even if I were to tell you news you might not wish to hear?”

Once again she nodded, adding, “But only this once because I love you, Mr Grayling, and I’d have this to remember you by. And only if you had no other commitments to anyone else. You’ve not made promises to Miss Huntingdon?”

Warmth filled his heart as he shook his head. “No, my dear love, I’ve made no commitments to anyone else. Or rather, to no one except myself.”

She smiled at the endearment, her gaze enquiring as he gently propelled her to the privacy he sought so he could truly convey his feelings to her.

“And since you’re not asking what commitments I’m making to myself, I will tell you. Yes, regardless of what my man of business tells me I ought or ought not do, I intend to marry you, Miss Brightwell. Why? Purely selfish reasons, I’m afraid to say.”

This time it was his turn to smile when she looked a little startled, but he stopped her question by touching his lips to hers, deep in the shadows of a spreading elm. But only for a second, only to whet her longing before he whispered, “You will make me a man I can be proud of. I truly believe that only you have that power.”

And before she had time to answer, he kissed her more deeply, dipping his head to fuse his mouth to hers as he cupped the back of her head and caressed her waist, skimming her thigh which charged him with a lust so fierce he had to remember where he was.

After a moment or so, she drew back, perhaps for air, though also to murmur against his lips, “You don’t need me to make you into anything, Mr Grayling. You’re perfect as you are.”

He had to kiss her again at this; and to feel her yielding, so willing, her gaze so tender and loving, was almost more than he could bear. In fact, her response was so rapturous it filled him with the sense that nothing could be more right and proper in the whole world than allying himself with this sweet angel.

Finally they both became conscious of the world around them; yet it was hard to break away. Now, though, as they joined hands and gazed at one another, there was a new and shared understanding.

“I thought you had decided against meeting me in the Oriental Pavilion,” he said, almost bashfully. Lord, he felt like a green boy in the throes of first love. And yet, this young woman was going to be his wife. He’d never felt happier in his entire life. Of course, he hadn’t asked the question in the proper and formal manner he intended. But he would. Later. When the time was right.

She looked surprised. “Why should I do that? I…” She bit her lip and frowned. “I’m not a mind reader. You…you didn’t send me a message did you?”

Surprised, he replied, “I sent a message last night making just such a request. I asked the messenger to wait for an answer which I received in the affirmative.”