Once Upon a Townsbridge Story Read online

  “What?”

  “You’re amusing and intriguing.”

  She stared at him as if in baffled confusion. “I lied.”

  “Let’s call it a fib, shall we? Besides, we still don’t know each other well, so you owe me no loyalty, though I would like to know what your real interests are.”

  “So you can get to know me properly?”

  “Naturally.”

  “I fail to see the point.”

  “For one thing, you’re stuck here for the next few days. Would it not be more enjoyable if we tried to get along?”

  “Maybe,” she agreed after an infernally long pause.

  “So then?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine. If you must know, I love gardening. I’m actually cultivating a new species of roses at the moment.”

  “What about embroidery?”

  She scrunched her nose. “I’d rather read.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it.”

  “Are you really?”

  “Yes. Embroidery never made much sense to me. I’m afraid I’ve never seen the point, but if you’re reading then you’re at least nurturing your mind.”

  “What a curious perspective you have.”

  “Why? Because all young ladies ought to sit about monogramming handkerchiefs?”

  She smiled and his heart expanded. “That is the general opinion.”

  He offered his arm. When she accepted, he started to guide her around the lake at a stroll. “What else do you like to do?”

  “I’m fond of chess and card games.”

  “What about billiards?”

  “I enjoy it though I’m not especially proficient.”

  George made a mental note to improve her play during her visit. “I love it myself. It’s wonderfully relaxing after a long day.”

  She snorted. “You make it sound as though you have a very arduous life, Mr. Townsbridge.”

  “Perhaps there’s more to me than being a rake, Miss Hollyoak”

  The pensive look she gave him assured him she was second guessing her initial assumptions of him. He said nothing more. Rather, he decided that showing her who he truly was would have a much greater impact.

  Chapter Two

  MARGARET WAS MORTIFIED. She’d brazenly lied to Mr. Townsbridge and he’d caught her out. But rather than scold her, he’d shrugged off the matter and asked her to tell him about her real interests. She’d not been able to be dishonest again, and to her surprise, he’d shown appreciation for the things she enjoyed.

  Additionally, he’d been charming and amusing, even with the whole grub situation. He’d also hinted that she might have judged him too harshly, and in spite of herself, this piqued her interest. Against her better judgment, she wanted to get to know him more thoroughly. She wanted to learn if she’d been wrong about him. Furthermore, she wanted to spend extra time with him, because if she were to be completely honest, she rather enjoyed his company.

  So when she woke the next day, she dressed and went down for breakfast, hopeful that Mr. Townsbridge might open up a bit more. She’d begin by inquiring about his childhood and see where that led. But before she reached the dining room his voice, coming from his father’s study, gave her pause.

  It wasn’t in her nature to eavesdrop, but the door was ajar, she had to pass it, and before she was able to do so she heard him say, “I know you may want me to entertain Miss Hollyoak, Father, but this is of greater importance.”

  “We’re talking about your future,” Lord Roxley remarked.

  “I am aware, but I refuse to leave Miss Granger in the lurch.” A sigh followed this comment. “Considering my...involvement, I cannot help but feel responsible for her well-being.”

  “And the child?”

  “I’ll do what I can by him.”

  “It’s a messy business, George, but if you’re determined, I’ll not stand in your way. Just try and be discreet. Yes?”

  “Of course. I always am.”

  Margaret took a sharp breath and continued toward the dining room which she was relieved to find empty. Solitude was what she needed in order to gather her thoughts. And a cup of hot tea to go with it.

  Lord, she should have trusted her instincts. Mr. Townsbridge was clearly an expert at breaking past people’s defenses. He’d made her second guess herself, had caused her to imagine she must have misjudged him, when in fact she’d been right all along. He was every bit the rake she’d taken him for. Heavens. His affairs weren’t even confined to Town alone, which caused her to wonder how many women and children he’d left in his wake.

  The question cemented her resolve.

  Mr. Townsbridge might have persuaded her to let down her guard yesterday on account of his easy smiles and the prank he’d played in calling her bluff. But she knew better now, and as a result she was more determined than ever to resist him.

  “I do wish Mr. Townsbridge hadn’t been called away on business,” Margaret’s mother said when the two went for a walk that afternoon. “We’re only here for a limited time and in light of what we hope to accomplish, every moment spent in his company would have been beneficial.”

  “No amount of moments would prompt me to change my mind about him, Mama. I won’t be his wife.”

  “I don’t know what your issue is, Margaret. He would make you an excellent match.”

  “If I were the sort of woman who wanted to sit home and wait while her husband went off on his dalliances.” Margaret met her mother’s gaze. “Once a rake, always a rake. You’re the one who taught me that.”

  “Quite right, although I’m not sure Mr. Townsbridge is the terrible scoundrel you wish to paint him.”

  “Oh, I can assure you, he is far worse.”

  Mama frowned. “Are you certain?”

  “I overheard a conversation this morning between him and his father. Turns out there’s a local woman he’s gotten with child. That is his business today, Mama.”

  They continued for a while in silence before Mama quietly said, “I would caution you against drawing conclusions based on something you’ve heard in passing.”

  “Ordinarily, I would agree, but in this instance there can be no doubt. Mr. Townsbridge was very clear.”

  “”Nevertheless, Margaret. Your father and I would not suggest you marry a man who would treat you ill. We want your happiness. The reason we’re here is because we believe you and Mr. Townsbridge would suit.” Mama dropped a glance in her direction. “Is it possible you might be wrong about him?”

  Margaret shook her head, but the truth was, she wasn’t entirely sure. For although there were rumors about him being able to lure the saintliest woman into his bed with nary a wink, Margaret had no idea how much truth there was to that. Of course, the conversation she’d overheard earlier would suggest he was just as wicked as she’d imagined, but what if she’d drawn her conclusion based on her preconceived notions, or heard the comments out of context? If she were to be fair and open-minded, should she not give him a chance to explain?

  “You and Papa don’t have the sort of marriage I want for myself,” Margaret said when they’d gone a bit further. “So why should I trust you to make a good match for me?”

  When her mother didn’t respond right away, Margaret feared she’d overstepped and possibly hurt her, which was not her intention at all. She prepared to apologize for her bluntness, but then her mother said, “Because we want more for you than what we’ve had. Your father and I have managed to form a partnership based on respect, but there’s never been love or affection or even friendship between us. We live separate lives with separate interests, and we’re poorer for it, Margaret. There’s little we agree on these days, besides the fact that we want you to have a richer life than we’ve had.”

  Margaret was grateful for this, and yet... “I’m not sure Mr. Townsbridge is the right answer, Mama.”

  “So then?”

  “Lord Shrewsberry has been forthright about his intentions, and while I did promise Papa I would wait until I’d
given Mr. Townsbridge a chance, I believe Shrewsberry would make a fine husband. I think I’d like to encourage his courtship.”

  “He’s certainly got a title, which is something Mr. Townsbridge will lack until he inherits.”

  “What a horrible notion, Mama.”

  “It is how it works, dear.”

  Margaret couldn’t deny the truth in that, and yet she had to be clear about her own views on the issue. “You know I don’t care about rank. Of greater importance is Shrewsberry’s unblemished reputation and the fact that he listens to me. More than that, he shares my opinion on almost every subject. “

  “Does he really?”

  “I think we’re of a like mind.”

  “Hmm... I’d be wary of anyone who agreed with all my views,” Mama murmured. “They’d either be trying to win my favor or incapable of having a thought of their own. Neither of which would be very commendable.”

  Margaret supposed her mother had a point, but it wasn’t like that with Shrewsberry. With him, Margaret felt like she could express herself honestly and without fear of judgment. Although it was a bit strange that he’d not objected to her idea of allowing women to have seats in Parliament when even Margaret’s female friends thought this a bit too radical. And when it came to her insistence that she should be allowed to vote alongside men, Shrewsberry had merely smiled and nodded while saying, “Indeed.”

  She knit her brow. Was it possible he’d just been placating her? Confused and unsure about what was real and what wasn’t, Margaret decided to start by addressing the Mr. Townsbridge situation. She’d put him on the spot and give him the chance he deserved to make his case.

  IT WAS LATE BY THE time George returned to the house. Miss Granger had not been easy to console but eventually, after promising he would ensure her security - that she would receive the funds required, George had managed to calm her.

  Now, in spite of his exhaustion, George hoped to spend some time with Miss Hollyoak.

  “She’s in the library,” Thornsby, the butler, informed George when he inquired after her whereabouts.

  “And the rest of the party?” George asked.

  “The ladies have just retired. Your father and Mr. Hollyoak are still in the dining room.”

  George thanked Thornsby and headed off in search of his quarry. When he found her five minutes later, a surge of affection rose inside him.

  Asleep in a chair and with the biggest book the library had to offer resting in her lap, Miss Hollyoak looked small and vulnerable. A powerful urge to guard her - to keep her safe from all harm - assailed him. It was utterly unexpected and yet, it could not be denied.

  A smile pulled at his lips as he approached her, his footfalls steady on the parquet. It was odd, this sense of rightness he felt when he was near her. They weren’t well acquainted, but in her company, he felt playful and exuberant - as if all the seriousness he was forced to face on a daily basis as heir could be set aside in favor of pure, unguarded amusement. It was a feeling he’d not enjoyed since he was a boy, this complete lack of pretense. Even when he met with his friends - men who’d known him most of his life - he kept his role of future viscount in place.

  It was expected. He’d gotten accustomed to it. But he’d not realized until yesterday how exhausting it actually was or how much he missed just being himself.

  Shifting his gaze from Miss Hollyoak for a moment, George considered the vase filled with ostrich plumes and peacock feathers his mother had collected. His smile widened and he immediately reached to snatch one up. Taking a step back, he extended his arm and allowed the tip of the feather to brush Miss Hollyoak’s cheek.

  When her nose twitched, he repeated the movement. She shifted her position and made a small sound of annoyance. George chuckled, then ran the feather over her ear. She raised her hand in response and gave herself a good swipe before turning her face in the opposite direction. George merely ran the feather along the length of her neck.

  Her eyes sprang open, annoyance deepening in her gaze the moment it settled on him. Next thing he knew, he was dodging a missile. The tiny cushion she’d hurled at him barely glanced off his shoulder before tumbling onto the floor with a gentle thud.

  “You!”

  George executed a flamboyant bow. “At your service, Miss Hollyoak.”

  She glared at him so ferociously, he believed she’d have leapt upon him with every intention of seeing to his immediate demise had it not been for the massive book in her lap. “I was sleeping.”

  “I know.”

  “And yet you decided to wake me. Why?”

  “Because I missed your delightful smile.”

  The twitch of her lips was almost imperceptible, and yet he did not miss it. In spite of her best effort to the contrary, she found him amusing. “That’s not an acceptable excuse.”

  “Very well. I missed you as a whole. And besides, there’s something I’d like to show you. Something that really can’t wait.”

  “I really don’t—”

  He snatched the massive book from her lap, set it aside, and pulled her upright. “Come on. We have to hurry.”

  “Mr. Townsbridge!” Heedless of her protest, George drew her along expeditiously. They left the library and made their way to the stairs. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “Mr. Townsbridge, I really must protest.”

  “Must you?”

  She huffed a breath. “Your behavior borders on the improper.”

  “Then I’m living up to my reputation, am I not?” He glanced over his shoulder at her and winked. “Or at the very least the reputation you believe must be mine.”

  “Reputations are based on action. What people do, how they behave, will invariably determine how others see them.”

  “Has it never occurred to you that this view may be skewed?” Having reached the top of the stairs, he led her down the hallway to the right, toward the door at the end. “I’m sure there are plenty of people who do abominable things behind closed doors while appearing as paragons of Society when in public.”

  “Possibly.”

  “Similarly, I’m sure there are those Society would brand disreputable even though they might in fact be deserving of praise.”

  “And I suppose you consider yourself to be one such individual?”

  “All I’m saying,” he told her as he opened the door and ushered her up the steps beyond, “is that when it comes to Society, one should be cautious about passing judgment, one way or the other.”

  HE HAD A FAIR POINT. There was no denying that. It was the conclusion she herself had arrived at that afternoon. For although the evidence would suggest he was a cad, it would be wrong of her not to let him defend his position. Not only because every person deserved such a chance, but also because a corner of her heart had been disappointed to learn he’d not only gotten a woman with child out of wedlock, but was trying to woo Margaret into marriage at the same time. She wanted nothing to do with Mr. Townsbridge if this was what he was truly like. But what if it wasn’t? What if she’d leapt to the wrong conclusion?

  Margaret stepped up onto a squeaky floorboard and frowned. “This is the attic.”

  “A keen observation, Miss Hollyoak. Bravo.”

  That did it. Intent on getting him back for first tickling her awake and then treating her like an infant, she jammed her fist into his shoulder as hard as she could.

  The rogue merely grinned. And then he was tugging her through the dimly lit space, past old furniture and several boxes, trunks, and artwork. The evenings were getting longer, so while it was already nearing nine o’ clock and the visibility was decreasing, it was still possible to see thanks to the pale rays of sunlight spilling through four round windows.

  Mr. Townsbridge stopped when he reached a wooden door with louvers designed for the purpose of ventilation. He unlatched it and pulled it open, then swept his arm in a gesture inviting Margaret to step out onto a balcony.

  She gave him a hesitant glance, t
hen did as he bade, and was instantly rendered speechless. Vibrant shades of orange, pink, and purple were smeared across the sky, tinting the clouds in a stunning display of luminescent color.

  “Isn’t it pretty?”

  His low murmur stirred the air and vibrated through her. She nodded. “It is, indeed.”

  An easy silence followed before he confided, “I never miss a sunset when I’m here. I’ve been watching them since my governess brought me up here for the first time when I was a boy. I believe I was seven or eight. My parents were arguing, which upset me since it destroyed the illusion I’d had of their being in love. Miss Penwood showed me that even when the world looks harsh and ugly, there is endless beauty to be found. She said that no matter how painful life can be, I would always be able to seek solace in the perfection God has created.”

  “Your governess was kind and wise. I think I would have liked her.”

  “We still keep in touch, she and I.” Margaret glanced at him and saw he was smiling, not with pleasure exactly, but with a fond sort of sentimentality brought on by wonderful memories. He dropped his gaze to hers. “She lives in Kent now where she runs a small bookshop with her sister.”

  “Does she know you’ve become a rake?” Although she knew the question might ruin the mood, Margaret could not help but ask it. She needed to figure out who he really was.

  “That word again.” Mr. Townsbridge returned his attention to the view. The colors were starting to darken now as the sun crept lower. He shook his head. “I don’t think you know what a rake actually is if you believe me to be one.”

  “The rumors—”

  “Are merely that. Rumors. Mostly begun by jealous men, I’d imagine, or women I’ve turned away.”

  “You didn’t deny having lovers.” Heat filled her cheeks as she spoke the word.

  “Few men live like monks, Miss Hollyoak. I will admit that I am one such man. I’ll not tell you otherwise. But that does not make me a rake.”

  “No?”

  “No.” He turned more fully toward her. The sun was almost gone now, the lack of light casting his face in shadow. “Rakes look out only for their own self-interest. They seduce and lie their way into the beds of unsuspecting women and don’t give a fig for the consequences.”