Scandalous Miss Brightwells [Book 1-4]

George stuffed his thumbs into his waistband. “Cousin Katherine was forever planning something devious to shame you, Jack, just because you were an orphan.” He jutted out his jaw and looked collaboratively at Jack before frowning at Katherine and saying upon a sigh, “The number of times I stopped her from tormenting you when you had no one”

“Yes, yes, George, I’m sure we all remember those days,” his mother interrupted, raising her eyes to the ceiling and fanning herself. “But let’s turn the topic to the plans for fun and excitement we’ve devised for our guests here the next few days. I expect you to be on your best behaviour and to be the perfect host. We don’t want poor Katherine rushing off to London thinking she couldn’t have escaped fast enough.” Aunt Antoinette smiled at Jack. “And your presence will be much appreciated, Jack, because we’ve hired a dancing master for Katherine only George says he won’t dance. So, I hope you don’t mind”

“I will dance,” George objected.

“You said you’d refuse, darling, because you had more important things in town and you’d be leaving tomorrow.”

George rolled his shoulders. “Well, I’ve changed my mind,” he muttered. “That was before I met Katherine again after so long and…and realised how grateful she’d be to have a dancing partner. I’m not about to shirk my duties as host while Katherine and Jack are here. Not when it could be just like the wonderful old days.”

And as Katherine glanced between George and Jack, she felt she really was returning to those wonderful old days where Jack was her friend and ally and teasing George promised to be so much fun.

Chapter 3

The wonderful old days had been anything but wonderful as far as Jack was concerned. Life at the foundling home was spartan, and survival depended on charming the wardens and being a step ahead of the children who would snitch or steal for an extra spoonful of gruel.

The only wonderful highlights of Jack’s years from infancy to when he was eight years old were his thrice-weekly visits to Quamby House. The supervisor at the foundling home had told Jack a permanent position as a bootboy might be in the offing. However, the earl and his duchess, who seemed to him like genial royalty, insisted instead that Jack must ‘play’. Jack soon learned that the words work and play were interchangeable. Jack’s job was to ‘play’ with the earl’s son, George, a large, lumpish, spoiled, and self-absorbed boy, who was an only child and needed a playmate. Apparently, in the eyes of Lord and Lady Quamby, this constituted work as their son was, they told him, ‘not an easy boy’.

George had been resistant at first, and had Jack feeling disinclined to court the society of a child who was so unappreciative of his good fortune, but Jack soon learned that trailing the bigger boy was an assured way of getting lots of good food. Unaccountably, the cook formed a fondness for him, and never did he return to the foundling home without a covered basket full of treats he would share with the other children, thus shoring up his power and popularity there.

Not that Jack had sought power for any other reason than to get enough to eat, but now that he was eighteen and would soon be proving himself in the West Indies, he realised his early days had provided useful training in understanding how children and adults manipulated one a

nother for different objectives.

George was clearly keen to impress Katherine and prove his dominance over Jack—just like the old days—so it was easy to slip back into the old patterns that had worked in the past.

Maturity, of course, altered matters a little. Katherine was conscious of her blossoming beauty, he could see, while George remained as unaware of external forces as he had ever been.

Chief among these pleasures was eating, though it appeared he’d suddenly discovered a passion for dancing, and squiring Katherine in a polka or waltz was, he declared, an important cousinly duty.

“She’s quite green, so she’ll need a bit of dash if she’s to carry it off on the dance floor,” he told Jack the morning after Jack’s arrival at Quamby House.

“And you’re just the man to ensure she shows herself to advantage,” Jack responded as they tucked into the peach tart Cook had made. He found it touching that the old dear had remembered it used to be Jack’s favourite. “You’re the counterpoint to her grace, charm, and elegance.”

“The counterpoint, yes,” George repeated, leaning back in his chair in the conservatory, though he sounded a little uncertain as to what Jack actually meant.

“She appears so vibrant when she’s next to you,” Jack explained. “You’re bringing out her best.”

George seemed to like this before asking if Jack would like to observe from the sidelines how he executed his clever moves on the dance floor with Katherine. With a smug grin, he added that he wasn’t one to keep his tricks to himself and, in view of their long friendship, he’d be pleased to teach Jack everything he knew.

So, now Jack was reclining on a red-velvet-upholstered sofa he’d dragged into the vast, empty ballroom, and was nodding approval as George swung Katherine round and round the room to a less than perfect piano accompaniment.

Almost perfect, in Jack’s eyes, however, was Katherine whose transformation from a spirited twelve-year-old to a beautiful and self-assured young woman was almost complete. He didn’t think she could be any lovelier, and he still couldn’t get over that he’d shared his first proper kiss with her the night before in the dark. He’d kissed girls before, though he decided these didn’t count since none of the consequent effects had been remotely like the incendiary response he’d experienced with Katherine.

Not that Katherine appeared to consider it an earth-shattering experience. In fact, she’d been making it quite clear all day that their sensuous encounter in the dark had been nothing more than a piece of fun for her. At breakfast, she’d tossed her elaborately plaited and braided hair and raised her nose to the ceiling when Jack had said good morning, murmuring that she hadn’t been up long enough to tell. Jack wondered if the fact she wasn’t able to look him in the eye was because she was embarrassed, or if she really did think herself his superior.

Her attitude amused him, which was why he’d dragged the old red velvet sofa into the ballroom. Watching so slavishly from the sidelines would surely annoy her.

And, clearly, it did.

After the third time that Jack complimented George on his technique and criticised Katherine on hers, she snapped.

“Maybe you should try for yourself, Jack, instead of offering everyone else good advice.”

“I was just offering you good advice,” said Jack innocently. “Not everyone.”

“So, George doesn’t need improvement but I, who am to be launched in less than five days, have a long way to go? That’s what you inferred, Jack, and don’t you deny it. Are you so perfect that you’ve never stepped on anyone’s toes?”

“I wouldn’t dare try what George is doing,” Jack said hastily. “The man’s a cream puff in trousers, and I’m nowhere near the expert he is. I’d only show what a clumsy oaf I am by comparison.”