The Townsbridge's Series Read online

  In other words, the exact opposite of what his parents had. They were a happily married couple in public, but in private they lived separate lives and neither had ever seemed especially happy. Growing up, George had seen them as a perfect example of what to avoid in a marriage.

  Which prompted him to ask Miss Hollyoak, “Is happiness important to you?”

  “Of course.” She spoke without hesitation. “I would imagine it would be to most people.”

  “One does wonder.” He met her gaze. “I believe few matches are made with happiness in mind.”

  “Ours certainly wouldn’t be,” she muttered as they passed through an opening between a copse of trees and made their way toward the lake.

  “Surely it’s too soon to tell.”

  “As I’ve already mentioned, your reputation has allowed me to form an opinion.”

  “Clearly.” He gave her a dry look and watched in quiet amusement while her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. Clearing his throat, he drew her to a halt at the edge of the lake and said, “Let’s suppose you fell madly in love with me.”

  She snorted. “Highly unlikely.”

  “Just pretend for a moment, Miss Hollyoak.” He turned her toward him. When she sighed and gave a nod of agreement he asked, “Would it then matter to you if there were no title or fortune for me to inherit, or would you marry me anyway?”

  She knit her brow. “I’m not sure my parents would allow me to marry you if there weren’t. After all, something terrible would have had to occur in order for you to lose your right to the Roxley title, so I suppose it would depend on whether or not it was tied to something you’d done. For instance, if I were to learn you were a traitor or a murderer, my feelings for you would most likely change.”

  “Right. Of course. As well they should, I suppose.”

  “But if we were to pretend that we lived in a world where I loved you to distraction and where titles and fortunes could be denied on a whim, and where I was free to do as I please without my parents’ interference, then it shouldn’t matter if you lost your title and fortune since neither can possibly be a reflection of who you are as a person. As such, I would like to think I would marry you anyway. Although to be fair, this is so hypothetical it is beginning to stretch the limits of my imagination.”

  George smiled. “Your answer still gives me hope.”

  “Of what, exactly?”

  “That you care more for what is behind the facade than for how things appear at first glance.” When she frowned he grabbed her hand. “Come on. Let’s find those grubs you’re so excited about.”

  She squeaked and he grinned as he pulled her along, circling the lake until they reached a shady spot where moss, fallen tree-bark, and branches littered the ground. Drawing her into a crouched position, he let go her hand and lifted one of the larger branches so he could move it aside.

  “Dear me,” Miss Hollyoak said with a whisper of breath.

  George’s grin widened. The branch had settled in the moist soil, creating an indentation in which there appeared to be an abundance of life. He reached out and snatched up the fattest grub he could find. Turning slightly, he held it up for Miss Hollyoak’s inspection. “Magnificent, wouldn’t you say?”

  Her expression was tight, her lips pressed into a firm line that seemed to convey a struggle for resolve. She stared at the grub as it moved about in the palm of his hand. “An excellent specimen, Mr. Townsbridge. Congratulations.”

  “Why thank you, Miss Hollyoak. Would you not like to hold it?”

  “Oh no. That one is yours. I couldn’t possibly—”

  “Of course you can,” George told her jovially. He reached for her hand, then took the grub and began to lower it onto her palm.

  She swallowed. Her jaw tightened. The grub almost touched her before she jerked back so violently she landed on her bottom. “I can’t!”

  George tilted his head. “Can’t what?”

  Exasperation puckered her lips. “I don’t like grubs or worms or slugs or anything else related to such disgusting creatures.”

  “I thought not.” He tossed the grub aside, brushed his hand on his trousers, and offered it to her. She glared at it as if it were soiled. George chuckled. “You wanted me to dislike you so you decided to turn yourself into the sort of strange woman you thought I’d lose interest in right away.”

  She hesitated a second before accepting his hand. Contrition was evident in her eyes when her gaze met his once more. “I’m sorry.”

  He pulled her to her feet. “No matter, although to be honest, your little farce has had the opposite effect from the one you desired.”

  “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 2

  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 H
ollyoak 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?”