Scandalous Miss Brightwells [Book 1-4]

“That you need only to click your fingers and you’ll have yourself a rich, titled husband before the season is out.”

“I mean, do you think he’d make me a suitable husband?”

Jack shrugged, not enjoying the topic, then sighed as a tall, sartorial-looking fellow with a glossy dark moustache bore down upon them. “I think that you’re going to have to repeat your prettily rehearsed performance of before since here comes another potential suitor. You do realise I intend to stick to you like a leech.”

“Indeed. I’m certainly not going to turn away only to have your good name besmirched and believe me, this fellow has an expression that suggests he’d like nothing more than to do it.”

“That’s not very gentlemanly!”

“I’d wager I’m more of a gentleman than Mr Marwick is.” Jack wasn’t quite sure why he was suddenly becoming so hot under the collar. He took a deep breath and counselled himself to be reasonable. In five days, he’d be off to sea, and he’d probably not see Katherine again for years and when he did, she’d be long married with a brood of children. He tried to put the thought from his head as he extended the requisite courtesies, smiling pleasantly when he’d much rather glower repressively—for all the good that would do—nodding genially as he watched Katherine flirt and simper. Oh, she was good; he had to give her that. Just as Lord Derry had three minutes before, now Mr Marwick looked as if he’d kiss the toes of her neat walking boots if she only asked him.

Katherine hadn’t thought about her mother’s pearl earrings until her mother declared they’d go perfectly with her dove-grey-and-pink evening dress when Katherine presented herself in the drawing room later that night.

“Why don’t you run upstairs and fetch them? See if I’m not right,” suggested her mother with a wave of her hand, but Katherine was saved from responding when her father asked, “Are you not fast wearying of the endless social round, my dear? Your little sister was asking the very same question in her last letter from the school room. The precocious child suggests she’ll find a husband faster than you when her time comes.”

Lord Fenton was seated on the sofa beside his wife, the pair the picture of marital harmony as they sipped Madeira. Aunt Antoinette, looking bored, was reclining in a very relaxed fashion, with one daintily-shod slipper upon the ottoman, studying the half-moons of her right hand. She looked up. “Regardless of whether Katherine is or isn’t wearying of the social round, tonight is one night she can’t cry off since my darling Quamby is hosting the event.” She sighed gustily. “I certainly wish I could cry off.”

Katherine hesitated in the centre of the Aubusson rug. She’d spent a full two hours on her toilette and had come downstairs full of hope for the evening ahead, but now she put her hand to her heart and said, “I’m looking forward to this evening, immensely, but why aren’t you, Aunt Antoinette?”

“Monsieur Jervois is unable to attend tonight.” Aunt Antoinette pouted.

Katherine didn’t miss the warning look her mother sent her sister before she muttered, “Think of your duty to your husband, Antoinette. I’m sorry to say it, but I’m not mourning his broken leg as you are. Tonight you will be the perfect hostess so that Katherine will see how to conduct herself when she is hostess of an event of similar magnitude.”

“Unless she runs off with the footman which she may well do if she’s allowed to follow her heart—as you’ve told her so anxiously she must do if she’s to avoid the terrible trials our mama put us through.”

“The trials Mama put me through?” repeated Lady Fenton through gritted teeth, glancing quickly at Katherine before lowering her voice even further to say, “Hush now, Antoinette. You’ve had too much Madeira, and you know how unguarded you can be when it goes to your head. Katherine is looking to both of us to set an example.”

Katherine lowered herself onto the ottoman at her aunt’s feet and reached an arm across to pat her mother’s knee. “Don’t worry, Mama. I shan’t run away with the footman, and I’m sorry, Aunt Antoinette, that you’re not feeling in high spirits like I am, though I’m quite sure you will be soon when all the handsome young men confuse you for my sister and tell you how beautiful you look tonight.”

“What a treasure!” exclaimed her aunt, clapping her hand over Katherine’s and glancing up as her son entered the room together with his father and another gentleman. “George, why can’t you learn to be so charming? And you too, Quamby? Here I am in a gown that cost you a small fortune and have you paid me one compliment tonight?”

“I’m seeing you wear it for the first time, my dear,” the earl defended himself, smiling his usual equable smile nevertheless, as with the aid of his sticks and the shoulder of the very handsome young Greek who’d been his attendant the past year, he lowered himself into his armchair by the fire. Raising his lorgnette to more closely scrutinise his wife, he nodded approvingly. “You do me proud, Lady Quamby. And I believe I shall enjoy your undivided attention tonight as we help to ensure that this is an evening for our niece to remember.” He patted the orange curls of his wig as he leaned forward, asking Katherine in conspiratorial tones, “And what young men have taken your fancy during the time you’ve been in London, my dear? Are you pleased that Young George is back in town, early I believe, following a speedy transaction over a bit of horseflesh? Perhaps you are the reason.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Quamby!” muttered Aunt Antoinette. “Katherine can do far better than George. Besides, he’s her cousin. They’re practically brother and sister.”

Katherine shuddered. She couldn’t imagine a more misguided statement. Still, she fluttered her eyelashes and, for a bit of fun, said, “You’ve been missed, Cousin George, since I can rely on you not to bruise my poor toes. Few gentlemen are as light on their feet as you.”

It wasn’t a wise remark, for she realised later she’d only encouraged George when he claimed the very first dance of the evening, just as she saw both Mr Marwick and Jack advancing with apparently the very same request, from opposite sides of the room. And while it was nice to feel she was so in demand, she rather wished she could have been dancing with Jack so she could regale him with the amusing events that had preceded their arrival.

Flirting with Mr Marwick was very nice too, she decided as he twirled her about the room, putting his lips to her ear and suggesting they might visit an antechamber just beyond the passage.

“And risk losing another pearl earring?” she demanded. “I think you ask too much of me, Mr Marwick?”

“No, no, I wish to return your earring to you.”

“Then that changes everything!” Katherine declared, smiling at him. “Only, we must be very discreet or”

She blushed, unexpectedly, for she’d nearly spoken rather recklessly.

“Or I’d have an irate papa demanding redress?” He appeared to contemplate the idea, raising his eyes to the ceiling before saying, “I can’t say that would be too great a hardship, Miss Fenton. Having known you a full seven days, I think you only grow more charming.”

Katherine wasn’t quite sure how she felt at such fulsome praise delivered with such clear but veiled desire. Katherine changed the subject. “Oh, there’s my cousin, Jack.” She hailed him as the music came to an end. “I promised him the next dance,” she explained, “as of course you can’t possibly

dance with me a third time tonight.”

“Only if I had certain intentions, that’s true. However, I would very much like to secure you for another waltz before the night is through.”

Katherine agreed to this, but she couldn’t wait to hurl herself into Jack’s arms. As soon as she’d extricated herself from Mr Marwick, she told Jack, “I’m so worn out with all this dancing; can’t you take me away somewhere quiet instead?”