Sinfully Ever After (Book Club Belles Society) (12 page)

Justina walked away, clearly too annoyed to stay a moment longer and listen to the woman. Becky would have followed, but now Mrs. Kenton cornered her just as she had the colonel earlier. “Lady Waltham also informed me of the provision written by old Mr. Wainwright into his will shortly before his death. But perhaps you are aware of it? The money may be inducement enough for you. It certainly is for your father, it seems.”

“I beg your pardon, madam?”

“Lucius cannot inherit a penny of the family fortune unless he marries and settles down. The eldest son’s wild ways were always a terrible concern to old Wainwright. I suppose you are a convenient woman for the colonel in that case.”

Becky felt her lips part, but no sound came out.

A
convenient
woman!
Then this was nothing to do with concern for her reputation at all. He was merely using her to get his filthy clutches on the Wainwright fortune and disinherit her dear friend’s children.

Becky raised a hand to her breast, touching the skin where he had pressed his lips last night in a wicked kiss. At that same moment, she looked over and found him watching her. How could eyes so dark be that hot? Mrs. Kenton’s voice buzzed in her ear. “I know you have no mother to advise you, and your father is a lax guardian. Perhaps that is why the colonel picked you out for this scheme, poor thing. I pray you do not think me talking out of turn, as they say, but I would not stand by and see you misused. If you were a daughter of mine, I would want someone to advise you, if I must be absent.”

Becky did not want to believe everything the vicar’s wife said. She hoped, for her friend’s sake—and for young Sarah’s—that Lucky Luke
had
returned a changed man. But hoping was as far as she could go. Look how quickly he had almost seduced her last night!

Those eyes were sinful, secretive. Full of debauched thoughts.

At least they were when they looked at
her
.

He smiled at her. Had the gall to smile! The cad. Last night he’d had the audacity to accuse her of trying to trap him, when all the time he was the one scheming for a bride.

“Yorkshire hot pot, indeed!” Mrs. Kenton grumbled under her breath.

Mrs. Penny popped up on Becky’s other side and tapped her on the sleeve. “Whatever Mrs. Kenton’s doubts, the colonel is just the man for you, Rebecca, my dear. Snap him up while you can, for there might not be another man to come your way before it is too late and you are past your prime. He surely cannot afford to be too fastidious. Not with his history. He is likely to manage you well enough.”

When Becky laughed, it came out rather high and thin. “Thank you, madam, but if the colonel ever thinks to
manage
me, he might end up with two limps instead of one.”

Like squirrels around a bag of nuts, the ladies had gathered by a sofa on the far side of the room. From the many sly glances cast his way, Luke guessed he was the dominant topic of conversation. Sarah was right, he mused; it was a good thing he’d taken her advice and cleaned himself up. Better he not give them any additional ammunition against him, for her sake. She had come to stand at his side, bringing with her the overly rouged, giggling creature who had earlier turned the music while she played.

“Miss Sherringham says she’s not going to marry you, Colonel.”

“So I heard, Sarah. The lady likes to tease. She is full of wit and vivacity. Quite makes my breeches split with the hilarity.”

“She did not look very amused when she said it. And, by the by, I have my mind set upon her for a mother now. I think she will advise me very well.”

“Is that so?”

“And she is not one of those vapid, giggling girls with round heels that you used to chase after.”

Luke scowled. “Who told you that?”

She put her proud little chin in the air and said smugly, “I have my ears open, Colonel. Just like my eyes. I am quite sure Miss Sherringham will help me to look after you.”

“Hmph.” The shirt borrowed from his brother was too tight across the shoulders and constricted the movement of his arms, so he began to feel penned in. He groaned softly, leaning on his cane. “She and I must get accustomed to the idea of shackles.”

The ladies around the sofa now dispersed, evidently finished pecking at his nuts. Rebecca walked over to the fire with two of the women following, poking her sleeves, talking to her earnestly in voices too low for him to hear above the music.

“You must ask Dr. Penny about your leg,” said Sarah. “He is there, by the fire. Let me take you over.”

“If it makes you content, Sarah, I will visit the doctor tomorrow. But now let him enjoy the fire and this good company in peace, eh? I’m sure the last thing he wants is to look at my wounds when he’s been invited to a party.”

“Very well, but you must promise to go tomorrow.”

“If you say so.”

“Miss Sherringham will agree with me, I’m sure.”

“Will she?” He thought Gingersnap was more likely to prefer him hobbled, so he couldn’t keep up with her.

Now Sarah’s companion—she of the fair ringlets and red cheeks—spoke up. “I can’t imagine why she didn’t tell us she was engaged. I know I would be bursting to tell if it were my news. We all thought she would never find a man to marry, for she is so very particular in her likes and dislikes. She fired an arrow at the last man who took a fancy to her. Becky claimed it was a mistake and that he merely wandered between her and the target, but we all know differently.”

That did not surprise him at all. Lord, he needed more punch, he thought, gazing into his empty cup.

“Soon I will be the only one of us without a husband,” Ringlets added. “I lamented, only this morning, how interesting single men hardly ever come here and when they do, they are immediately snapped up. Now the militia are no longer encamped nearby, it feels as if all eligible men have abandoned us. But Becky said she didn’t care and would rather live on the moon.”

He smirked as he remembered thinking, the first time he met her, that she must have come from there, or a planet nearby. “What do you young ladies find to do with your time in the absence of
interesting
gentlemen?”

Sarah answered, “We don’t miss them very much, Colonel. We have a book society.”

“Books?” He frowned. That was hardly compensation for the company of men.

“Yes, you know, Colonel. They have pages and open thusly.” Sarah demonstrated with her hands, her face perfectly innocent.
Cheeky miss
.

Over by the fire, he heard Rebecca exhale a short chuckle before she turned away again. Apparently she had good hearing. He wouldn’t be able to get much past her notice. His frown grew heavier until he began to feel a headache from it. Must be the heat of the room and all those haughty women staring at him, he decided. Christ, he hated these stifling little parties. Tonight he remembered why it had been such a pleasure to let himself be thought dead, to escape society and the need for rigid manners.

Sarah and her friend were now discussing books. Ringlets exclaimed that she would rather enjoy the entertainment provided by real men than the fictional sort. “Sometimes, Colonel Wainwright,” she added, “I believe we read too many books.”

“Nonsense,” said Sarah. “There is no such thing as too many books.”

“Well, you wouldn’t really know, my dear little Sarah. It is
your
only entertainment. You haven’t been to a ball or danced at the assemblies and met any beaus. You haven’t known what it is to be adored and flirted with by half a dozen men at once and learned the art of juggling your admirers, keeping them all in love with you. There would not have been so much time to read books then.” She looked up at Luke from beneath her long, fair lashes and gave a coy smile, probably induced by too much punch. “Dear little Sarah hasn’t experienced enough of the world yet to know the difference between a fictional hero and a live one. Don’t you agree, Colonel?”

He considered that for a moment and then replied, “I am glad that she hasn’t experienced that side of life yet or learned those particular arts you mention. Sarah is young and has plenty of time for all that.”

“Oh.”

There was an awkward silence while Luke stared morosely at his punch cup.

Finally Ringlets found another subject. “Do you like to dance, Colonel?”

“No,” he growled. “My dancing days are over.”

She glanced at his walking cane. “Of course, how silly of me. You mustn’t mind me, Colonel. I do sometimes say the most foolish things.”

But Sarah exclaimed, “Even if you can’t dance a reel, I’m sure you could manage a minuet or a Boulanger, something without too much leaping about.”

“I can assure you, Sarah, that wild elephants wouldn’t drag me onto a dance floor again.”

As the two young ladies now discussed the next, much anticipated Manderson assembly room dance, Luke let his mind wander to something of more interest. Across the room, his reluctant fiancée appeared to be suffering in quiet torment as those two ladies fussed around her. She finally extricated herself from their pokes and clutches to perch beside the parson on the sofa. There she feigned deep absorption in that fellow’s conversation, but Luke saw from the clenching of her hands and the tapping of her toes that it took all her willpower to sit still.

At least he was fairly sure she didn’t have a weapon on her tonight. Fairly sure. In that dress, there were few places to hide one, he mused. If there was some other bachelor present, he might have thought she dressed that way for him.

Not that he would have been jealous. He’d never been jealous in his life and was too old to start now.

Uh-oh. She’d just looked his way with a frosty glare that shriveled his plums to prunes.

He tapped his cane on the carpet and straightened his shoulders.

What was he waiting for? Hanging back like a pimply, uncertain youth! So he began a limping course toward her.

Say
something
charming
and
slightly
naughty
, he thought, and then she’d smile and forgive him for hiding his identity from her. Young ladies couldn’t have changed that much since he last seduced one out of a surly mood.

Nothing to it.

* * *

The parson, his eyes round behind his spectacles, gravely warned her against coming out in such a thin muslin gown and with nothing warm across her shoulders. She’d already been assured by his wife and by Mrs. Penny that this particular shade of rosy pink should never be worn by a redhead.

“It does you no favors, my dear,” Mrs. Kenton had informed her. “With your looks, you must be careful. The eye can only see so much color at once, and that hair of yours is very…bright. It is always in danger of looking brassy.”

“Never mind,” Becky replied. “With any luck, it will soon be sprouting gray and then I shan’t have to worry about looking garish anymore.”

The two ladies further advised her that the style of her gown was too low cut in the front, was far too “fancy,” exposed too much shoulder for a small drawing room party, and needed a lace tuck to preserve her modesty. It was not the first time the ladies had taken it upon themselves to criticize her form of dress. Because she had no mother, they seemed to think it their responsibility to point out her mistakes. But since they only ever told her what she did wrong when she was already doing it and it was too late to change, their advice was never much use.

As for Mr. Kenton’s quiet concern about her gown being too thin and exposing too much shoulder, Becky could little entertain the possibility of catching a cold while Lucky Luke’s heated gaze warmed her shoulders. The villain’s thumping cane could be heard like a warning overture before he arrived in her side view.

“Ah, Colonel Wainwright,” Mr. Kenton exclaimed, quickly forgetting Becky’s failure to dress herself appropriately. “We will expect to see you at church this week, of course.”

Becky, glancing up at the colonel’s startled face, very much doubted anyone had ever expected him at a church.

“Hmmm.” The man could barely move his lips to make that sound. Now she knew exactly why Darius Wainwright’s expression—that disgruntled, begrudging smile—had so often seemed familiar to her. “That shade of rose matches your maidenly blushes, Miss Sherringham.”

Before she could say anything, the parson intervened. “I have already advised Miss Sherringham to dress warmer in such weather. She risks her health by coming out in December in such a thin frock. The good Lord would consider that an act of disdain and disregard for one of His creations.”

“Indeed.” The colonel dropped his hand to his side. “And His creation is such a pretty one. So very well made.”

“I’m sure the good Lord has many other things to do with His time than worry about what I wear.”

“On the contrary, Miss Sherringham,” said Mr. Kenton. “He watches over all of us, all the time. He is omnipresent.”

“Like your wife,” she muttered.

“Surely,” said the colonel, his voice low, “God would want us to admire His creation. Therefore I, for one, am glad Miss Sherringham is not all covered up.”

The parson did not know what to say to that. Neither did Becky.

Lucky Luke added, “What does it say in the Bible, Mr. Kenton? Something about not hiding your light under a bushel?”

“You are a student of the Holy Bible?” Becky sputtered. “I am surprised. I didn’t think you read books at all.”

“You’re mistaken, my dear. I love a good book.”

“You once told me you had little time for them. The words ‘daft’ and ‘bloody’ were used.”

He ignored that. “In fact, Sarah has just invited me to join this…book society thingummy.”

Horrified, she exclaimed, “It’s all ladies.”

“I’ll have to be on my best behavior then.”

Oh no, he was not invading their club. “Men are not allowed.”

She was quite sure the last thing he read was the suit on a pack of cards. Or an IOU. He had claimed that written words looked jumbled to him and he was surely not a man who could be entertained by the quiet study of any book, let alone a romance such as those the Book Club Belles generally acquired.

This
love
for
books
is
as
ephemeral
and
suspicious
as
his
limp
, she thought. She’d noticed that there were times when he seemed to forget about the need for his cane. But when he found himself cornered by a difficult question, he made much of that pain in his leg to distract people from the fact that he fudged an answer.

It was interesting that his masquerade had fooled Mrs. Makepiece, of all people. That lady was usually wary of gentlemen until they met with her stringent approval, yet only a quarter of an hour in this rogue’s company had been enough to impress her.
Fine
and
gallant
, indeed! Ha, Becky knew better. Mrs. Makepiece didn’t know that he preferred his women face down in the pillow. But Becky had not forgotten that story.

According to Mrs. Kenton, there were hundreds of those women. A harem.

Naturally, one could not believe everything the parson’s wife said, but Mrs. Kenton’s stories about the scoundrel’s past simply confirmed Becky’s own sound judgment in this case. For once, therefore, as it supported her own cause, she did not instantly dismiss the woman’s gossip as nonsense.

When Lucky Luke began to say something else, she sharply cut him off. “I might have let my guard down last night, in a moment of regretful silliness, but I am not an empty-headed girl eager for a gentleman’s attention. Some people in this village may think I fretted while all my friends became engaged and married, but I have plenty of other, better things to do. My father and brother need me to take care of them, and I have no time to manage yet another overgrown boy.”

She heard the vicar’s gasp of surprise at this outburst, but she could not stop herself. “I certainly do not need one who is fifteen years older than me and has an illegitimate daughter, whom he abandoned, escaping his responsibilities to explore the world and seduce more unfortunate women.”

“You sound tense.” Lucky Luke’s voice was so low, so deep, it quaked her to the very core. “Rebecca.”

Her name on his tongue was as startling as a public kiss would have been. She stood quickly, pulse thumping. Oh dear, she had forgotten her vow not to lose her temper, to be as calm and unruffled as Diana.

Alas, despite the need to keep her wits intact, her throat was parched and the punch bowl beckoned.

Only three steps later, he was in her way again, moving with remarkable ease suddenly for a wounded man.

“Don’t you carry a fan?” he inquired in a louder voice, stopping her mid-stride.

“No. Why?”

“It looked as if you might be in need of one.”