Scandalous Miss Brightwells [Book 1-4]

He swallowed, suddenly breathless. The importance of a handsome marriage portion paled in significance compared with the pleasures a lonely widower might enjoy at the hands of such a paragon of beauty and virtue.

Miss Minerva Brightwell broke the silence with a rasping sigh. Her features had relaxed as she continued to stare into the fire, her drooping jowls echoing the pouches beneath her eyes, which were softened by nostalgia. “So my darling has finally realised the error of his ways,” she murmured. “Well, Dr Horne!” She levelled a decisive look upon him. “You may tell my…admirer…that I eagerly await more concrete signs of his regard.”

A gentle walk at noon, and only if the weather was exceptional, was Aunt Minerva’s only concession to improving her health through the exercise Dr Horne continually suggested. However, her struggle to put one leg past the other as she leaned heavily on Thea had filled her niece with a morbid aversion to doing anything outdoorsy with her aunt, despite her natural love of nature and fresh air.

Two mornings after the dance at the Assembly Rooms, Thea was again struggling under the weight of her demanding benefactress, dreaming of handsome Mr Grayling, whom she’d have little occasion to see and none to entertain, when she spied Dr Horne advancing purposely along the path toward them.

With relief she greeted him, for now her aunt would be required to halt a few moments and so reduce the painful pressure on Thea’s shoulder.

“Good morning, Dr Horne,” she said with more pleasure than she usually reserved for the pale, ginger-haired and awkward gentleman, whose hands always felt so clammy, though there was nothing she could particularly object to about him. “What a beautiful day it is, isn’t it?” She smiled warmly, wishing to prolong the break from her duties, for she was exhausted by her exertions on behalf of her aunt.

Dr Horne returned her greeting with a look of concern. “My dear Miss Thea, are you quite all right? You appear excessively fatigued and your colour is high.” Frowning at Aunt Minerva as he took Thea’s hand, he muttered with professional solicitude, “Let me feel your pulse, my dear. I fear you may be unwell.”

“Yes, I am a little…fatigued,” Thea said faintly, swaying against Dr Horne as she played upon the possibility of a reprieve.

“You were perfectly well when you set out this morning,” her aunt responded acidly.

Thea fluttered her lids and exhaled upon a sigh. “Fatigue seems to have got the better of me… Oh, Cousin Antoinette!” She suddenly noticed the barouche that had drawn level with them on the gravel path. “No, I am not feeling quite the thing. A lovely morning, Cousin. I was just asking Dr Horne if he wouldn’t mind accompanying Aunt Minerva the last few hundred yards home and I can travel in the carriage with you.”

Hiding her huge relief at her unexpected escape, she climbed into the dim interior and it was only then she realised her cousin was not alone. Opposite, sat Antoinette and, beside her, Bertram. And with a final start of excited astonishment, she saw that on the seat upon which she’d settled herself, Mr Grayling was reclining languidly.

He straightened when she entered the confined space, brushing his hair back from his high forehead, his beautiful grey eyes assessing her with surprise, as if he’d not been aware they’d stopped beside her and her aunt.

“What a delightful pleasure,” he said, kissing the back of her hand, which sent tingles of pleasure fizzing throughout her entire being. His tone and the gesture were so familiar it was all she could do to stammer something equating a reasonable response, for in truth her heart was thundering and heat burned her cheeks. A brief glance at her aunt and Dr Horne whom she’d abandoned on the gravel path made it very clear that she would pay dearly for her truancy, but any price was worth paying right now if she could enjoy such proximity to the handsome gentleman she’d believed she’d never set eyes on again.

And, on the subject of eyes, his never left hers as the carriage jolted gently over the rutted path. With each jolt Mr Grayling somehow seemed to inch a little nearer until, by the time they reached the house, his thigh was touching hers, resulting in the most exciting, intimate sensation she’d ever experienced. That is, until he surreptitiously reached for her hand. While the siblings opposite studiously trained their interest out of the window, Thea could only stare between her hand caged in his, and his kindling gaze still trained upon her face.

Mr Grayling liked her.

Of all the vast array of lovely ladies in Bath, he’d clearly singled her out for his attentions. That is, if you didn’t count Miss Huntingdon with whom he’d danced twice at the Assembly ball.

And as he handed her down from the carriage minutes later there was no mistaking the sincerity in his tone when he said, “I wonder to what lengths you’d go to dance the waltz with me, Miss Brightwell, for I declare my visit to Bath will be a wasted one if your aunt’s strictures triumph over my desire to—” He dropped his voice, adding meaningfully, “take you in my arms.”

Thea thought she would swoon upon the spot.

A little later, over tea in the conservatory of Lord Quamby’s handsome townhouse and with Mr Grayling no longer a part of the company, Antoinette and Fanny immediately launched in upon the topic of this gentleman.

“I believe Mr Grayling has a difficult choice to make,” Fanny remarked with a sly look from beneath her thick fringe of lashes.

Thea squirmed for Mr Grayling’s words still echoed with thrilling intensity in her head making it difficult to attend to her cousin who went on, “Of course, there are other gentlemen far richer than he to interest Miss Huntingdon, but he is handsome and he is second in line to inherit rather a fine estate.” She stirred her tea thoughtfully. “If I were a gambling girl, I’d consider it quite worth the risk.”

“Well, I am hardly in a position to make either wagers or take risks.” Thea forced a smile as the crushing reality was brought home to her. Mr Grayling would no more choose her for a wife than he would an actress from Drury Lane. Her shoulders slumped. “Miss Huntingdon is pretty and she comes with a fortune. What do I have to offer?”

Fanny nodded thoughtfully. “Miss Huntingdon might be comely and rich but she is also insipid. Extremely insipid. Would she be someone with whom Mr Grayling wishes to spend his future? Sometimes a little fire to stir a man’s senses can encourage him to take actions that are quite…unexpected.”

Thea jerked her head around at Antoinette’s giggle, unsure if her cousins were making fun of her. She certainly didn’t know what the cause of their amusement could be.

“Oh really, Thea, you can’t be quite so obtuse,” Fanny said, her tone now changed to a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

Thea frowned, for if she wasn’t being obtuse, all she could imagine they were suggesting was the antithesis of how a young lady concerned for her future would behave.

“Aunt Minerva would cast me out if a hint of scandal attached to my name,” she said stiffly. “I cannot see Mr Grayling again. I certainly cannot see him alone.”

Fanny put her head to one side and appeared to contemplate the matter. “Certainly not if anyone knew about it. Ah, Fenton…” With a beatific smile she greeted her devilishly handsome husband who’d entered the room. “We were just discussing Thea’s future.”

He looked surprised. “So your Aunt Minerva is willing to give you up and allow you one? A future, that is?” Lord Fenton strode across the Aubusson carpet and lowered his impressive frame onto the settee by his wife, immediately taking her hand and caressing it with such blatant wanting in his eyes, Thea felt the jolt all the way to her lower belly. She’d never seen raw desire like that in all her life.

Though when she came to think about it, the look in Lord Fenton’s eye could be said to equate to the unmasked