Scandalous Miss Brightwells [Book 1-4]

“We can talk about this later, Mr Patmore,” she said. “After my aunt’s will has been read.” She turned back with a smile. “I would prefer it that way.”

Another voice intruded. Older and more cultured.

“Eliza! There you are, girl. Come along now; there are people wishing to see you.” An imperious middle-aged woman appeared on the back step beside Dora, glancing suspiciously in Rufus’s direction before beckoning once more with more forcefulness. “Where are those carrots you were to fetch?”

“I have them, Aunt Catherine.” She sent an apologetic look in Rufus’s direction, explaining in an undertone, “She’s Aunt Montrose’s younger sister.”

Voices sounded from within the house. More visitors, and a cloud crossed her face. “It sounds as if Mr Bramley might be here.”

Rufus nodded briefly, staring at her retreating back. Yet again she’d given him a reprieve. She really didn’t want to commit either herself or him to anything before the will was read.

He was frustrated, on tenterhooks, but it gave him time to muse over the insane desire that had taken hold of him. What did he really know of her? She was lovely to

look at, but there’d been lovelier girls he’d known and not wished to marry. If it turned out she was penniless, his mother would be horrified.

But, like a lovelorn schoolboy, he stared at the birds lined up on the brick wall surrounding the vegetable garden and conjured up Miss Montrose’s lovely face.

As much as anything was certain, he decided, she was the only woman for him.

Eliza handed the basket of vegetables to Dora in the scullery, for her arms were trembling.

“Are you all right, miss?” Dora, usually lacking in sentiment, sent her a kind smile.

“Get along, Dora, there’s much work to be done,” Aunt Catherine, sweeping through in black velvet, dismissed her before turning to Eliza. “I got here half an hour ago and what welcome was there for me? I haven’t seen you in four years, not since your mother’s funeral, but you’re as self-obsessed as you ever were. Who was that young man you were alone with outside?” She lowered her voice and put her face close to Eliza’s. “Another of your fancy pieces? He certainly isn’t Mr Bramley to whom I was introduced to in the parlour as your intended? Up to your old tricks again, Eliza? Lord, but I hope justice is waiting for you. You caused your brother’s death, and then proceeded to break the hearts of both your parents. And now I see you consorting with a strange young man outside.”

Eliza had never liked Aunt Catherine, who had competently raised five children after her husband had died suddenly. Eliza had thought that when a person was well provided for, they could probably manage to do most things quite competently. It just left more time to find faults in others.

Dutifully, she bowed her head and accepted the criticism. Lord, if Aunt Montrose favoured Eliza, she’d be in possession of a fortune and able to decide her future. Wouldn’t that be the most deliciously happy state of affairs? Two days ago, all seemed gloom and despair. But now Mr Patmore had come into her life and set her aglow. She wished he’d not tried to ask her to marry him in the vegetable garden at such an inopportune time, but it did mean so much to her that he’d insisted on making clear that he was in love with her and not her money.

It was enough to decide her upon the fact that even if she were rich and able to decide her future, she would marry a man she loved.

And she loved Mr Patmore.

“Now, pinch some colour into your cheeks, Eliza. I’m sure Mr Bramley doesn’t want to see you looking like a ghost. A husband expects his wife to be glowing at the sight of him, regardless of the circumstances.”

The last person Eliza felt like greeting was Mr Bramley. In fact, the sight of his bullet-shaped head with its thick nose and bullish neck made her feel ill. She’d thought this was the man she’d have to marry if she were to achieve her heart’s desire; that it was the price she must pay if she were to atone to Gideon for casting him into a cruel world where he would be a slave, a lackey, when his destiny should have been gilded.

Well, now she had been offered a different future, and she would embrace it when the time was right; though, as she was still betrothed to Mr Bramley, she’d have to follow through with at least the social niceties.

Mr Bramley rose from his seat in the parlour and all but swooped upon her, clasping her hands and kissing her fingertips, no doubt for the benefit of Lady Fenton who was smiling beside him.

“My poor bereaved Miss Montrose.” Eliza noticed that Mr Bramley had staked out ownership of the most comfortable seat. “I have come to ease your pain,” he told her, making no effort to illustrate his words with action. “I am only sorry I couldn’t have been here yesterday. Nevertheless, within an hour of receiving the very sad news of your aunt, I was in my carriage.”

“Poor Miss Montrose, you have had much to contend with lately,” murmured Lady Fenton, elegant as always on a spindly chair. “But now, the future beckons.”

“Indeed,” Mr Bramley corroborated with a searching look. “I believe the reading of the will takes place this afternoon following the funeral tea. Ah, there’s Mr Patmore! I was devilish put out when he never came back with Devil’s Run.”

Eliza was thoroughly relieved when Mr Bramley clapped Mr Patmore upon the shoulder and drew him out of the room so that she was alone for the moment with Lady Fenton.

She sank into a chair opposite.

When she’d first arrived at Quamby House, she’d not thought much of either Lady Fenton or her sister, to tell the truth. Their sophisticated gloss wasn’t something she either admired or to which she aspired. In fact, she’d thought them vain, venal, and without substance. But after Eliza had jumped into the lake, they’d suddenly been so kind and interested, and so grateful, as evidenced by the fact they were here, although that was quite unnecessary.

Lady Fenton smoothed out her black silk skirts and fixed Eliza with an interested stare. “It was very gallant of Mr Patmore to remain with you in your hour of need, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was,” Eliza agreed.

“And did he have anything interesting to say?”