Scandalous Miss Brightwells [Book 1-4]

He cleared his throat. He was pleased with his efforts, but they hadn’t been so exacting for someone as self-interested as he. “It wasn’t too much trouble to ask that a few enquiries be satisfied. You see, I’m certain Miss Montrose is avoiding any possibility that I mention the subject of marriage because she’s ashamed she’s penniless, and she thinks her earlier encouragement will come across as venal and grasping.”

“Earlier encouragement?” Lady Quamby repeated with prurient glee as she pushed back her golden curls. “Oh my, Mr Patmore, that does sound romantic as does your desire to see that the law has been applied in order to champion dear Miss Montrose, only…” Her mouth turned down at the corners, and she fanned herself as she reclined upon the chaise longue and directed an uncertain look at her sister. “Fanny, do you think we should mention…this other complication?” she asked in a loud stage whisper.

Lady Fenton sighed as she looked between them both over the top of the newssheet she’d been reading before saying archly, “Of course we shouldn’t, Antoinette. We must handle the matter with great delicacy. Aren’t those the words you used just yesterday when you were afraid of wounding anyone’s sensibilities?” She sighed again, louder this time. “My apologies, Mr Patmore. My sister has no sense of occasion, and now there is nothing for it but to be quite transparent and to tell you that—”

“There is another!” Lady Quamby interjected, swinging her legs over the side of the chaise longue, and looking quite tragic as she straightened, her hands framing her face. “Oh Mr Patmore, I didn’t want there to be. You are quite the handsomest and most worthwhile of suitors and indeed, Miss Montrose’s perfect match but…”

“But what?” he interjected more sharply than he’d intended.

Lady Quamby appeared to wilt. “Mr Patmore, I fear the reason Miss Montrose doesn’t want you to ask her this momentous question is because...” She sucked a deep breath through her teeth as she bit her lip, then unexpectedly leapt to her feet, rushing across the room to clasp Rufus’s arm as if she truly couldn’t bear to impart the wounding news.

Rufus didn’t know what to say or do, so he clenched his jaw and remained as statue-like as he could for indeed his heart was starting to crumble, just a little, in anticipation of what he feared he was about to hear.

“Go on, Lady Quamby,” he muttered.

She rested her glorious tumble of golden curls against his shoulder and wailed, “Her old beau, the gentleman who broke her heart seven years ago by leaving the country suddenly following a tragic misunderstanding, has only this week returned and is in fact on his way here.”

“Here?” He

didn’t know he could sound so calm. “Is this true, Lady Quamby?”

She nodded and wiped her eyes as she stepped back. “I received this news from a dear and faithful…friend…who happened to have made enquiries when he was in London last.”

“Made enquiries?” Suddenly, everything was sounding very havey-cavey.

Lady Fenton rose and swept over, looking grave as she took his other arm. “Please know that we weren’t meddling, Mr Patmore. It’s just that we couldn’t understand why Miss Montrose seemed so intent on marrying Cousin George and when, at the time, we feared the spark of fire between the two of you might…fizzle,” she looked apologetic, “Antoinette thought a few enquiries regarding Miss Montrose’s past might throw up some answers. That’s when we learned of a gentleman by the name of Orlando Perceval, who had spent a summer seven years ago staying with Eliza Montrose, her brother, and parents.”

Rufus raised his eyebrows, signalling her to go on. Could it really be true that Eliza continued to hold a flame to a gentleman who had abandoned her more than six years ago? A gentleman who’d not sent her a word in the meantime—until now?

Or perhaps he had. What did Rufus know? He certainly knew nothing of the state of Miss Montrose’s heart, though her body had been willing enough two nights ago. Was that because she’d just heard that Orlando Perceval was riding post haste from the docks at Southampton, or wherever he was holed up, on a mission to rescue her?

He stared stiffly out of the window. “Thank you for that information, ladies. It does indeed throw some light on what had started to become a matter of some vexation.” Then, more decisively, “I shall leave in the morning.” He drew away, causing Lady Quamby, who was still attached to his coat sleeve, to stumble slightly.

“Nonsense!” Lady Fenton returned calmly, drawing her sister down onto the sofa beside her. “You need another drink, Mr Patmore. If Mr Perceval did indeed abandon Miss Montrose all those years ago, then what kind of man does that make him compared with a man of nobility and honour like you?”

“I’d say it makes him a man of enduring fascination, don’t you think?” Lady Quamby suggested, not very helpfully. “No!” she added, “the comparison will be odious, and that’s why you must stay here, Mr Patmore, so that she can compare the two of you and have absolutely no doubt as to who is the better man.”

The last thing Rufus felt like was puffing out his chest like some prize bull in a contest over Miss Montrose’s heart. She only had to indicate with a smile or crook of her little finger, and he’d ask her to marry him in a heartbeat. But if the two ladies before him were correct, Miss Montrose was consumed by doubt, and by thoughts of this other gentleman.

So, did he still wish to wed her under these altered circumstances?

He’d just have to hear the truth from her own lips and make that decision; though as he sat down and accepted a second glass of Madeira, he knew that he did.

“I do hope Mr Perceval comes soon. Just look at Miss Montrose.” With a nod of her chin, Fanny indicated the lonely figure of Miss Montrose taking the path by the riverbank near where the children were playing with Nanny Brown.

Antoinette’s rejoinder was energetic. “I’m sure she can’t be grieving over the old termagant to look so gloomy. But is she dwelling on Mr Patmore or her lost love, Mr Perceval? Perhaps she can’t decide what to do. Except that, of course, she doesn’t know that Mr Perceval will be arriving this evening, so she can’t really be dwelling on that.”

“She doesn’t know that he’s coming?” Fanny jerked forward, her tea spilling from her teacup. “Lord, Antoinette, do you realise that Mr Patmore thinks that’s why she wouldn’t let him ask her to marry him? Did no one tell her?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise for her.” Antoinette sounded dubious.

“Don’t you see, this changes everything?” Fanny cried. “I thought the reason she’d rejected Mr Patmore was because she knew Mr Perceval was coming!”

Antoinette looked pained. “It’s possible she found out, though I didn’t tell her.”

Fanny nibbled the tip of her finger as she rose and began to pace. “Oh Antoinette, did you see how long-faced Mr Patmore looked this afternoon when he made that excuse about going to the stables to consult Cousin George over a horse. That’s supposedly why he’s staying another night. At least, that’s why George thinks he is. He’s got himself involved in that ridiculous horse race Cousin George has no chance of winning using Devil’s Run.”

“I’m so glad Mr Patmore changed his mind and decided to stay so that he really could show Miss Montrose who was the better man.” Antoinette clasped her hands. “Ambrose tells me that Mr Perceval is quite an Adonis, but I can’t believe he’s more worthy than Mr Patmore. He’s certainly not as loyal if he abandoned her seven years ago. And, your suspicions are quite correct, if I wasn’t so very engaged by darling Ambrose, I could quite fancy a little dalliance with Mr Patmore.”