Mr. Malcolm's List

MR.
MALCOLM’S LIST.
 
Copyright
©
2009 by Suzanne Allain.
 
All rights
reserved.
 
No part of this book may be
reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means without
permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote
brief passages in a review.

LeMoyne House, Publishers

Kindle edition

For my husband

One

The Honorable Jeremy Malcolm, second son of the Earl of
Kilbourne, was the biggest catch of the season the year of our Lord 1818.
 
It was true he had no title of his own and
was only a younger son, but his aunt on his mother’s side had left him the bulk
of her sizeable fortune and a large country house in
Kent
.

He also had his considerable personal assets to recommend
him.
 
Only the most ambitious of young
misses would overlook Mr. Malcolm, with his dark wavy hair, dark blue eyes, and
slim but muscular physique, in favor of the Marquess of Mumford who was at
least fifty and had no chin, just for the privilege of hearing herself called
My Lady.
 

For what woman would choose to be called “My Lady” when she
might enjoy the sole honor of being called “Malcolm’s lady?”

But it
was beginning to look as if no woman was ever to enjoy that inestimable
privilege.
 

For, though he was by no means a hermit, and attended
Almack’s along with various other balls, routs, and assemblies, Mr. Malcolm was
earning a reputation as a Trifler, a Breaker of Hearts, a Destroyer of Young
Women’s Dreams.

“A what?”
Malcolm asked his friend Lord Cassidy, upon being told of the latest gossip
concerning him.

“A Destroyer of Young Women’s Dreams,” Cassie told him,
enunciating slowly and carefully.

“What rot,” Malcolm replied, turning to survey the ballroom,
and one beautiful debutante in particular.
 

“I am not so sure it is rot, Malcolm.
 
You paid very particular attentions to my
cousin Julia, and now have not been to call in nearly a week.”

Malcolm turned to look at his friend, one eyebrow
raised.
 
“I escorted your cousin to the
opera.
 
Once.
 
I would not call that paying her ‘very
particular attentions.’”

“Well, perhaps not, but it was all anyone spoke of for the
next two days.
 
And then when you did not
call again, how did that make Julia look?
 
She spent two whole days locked away in her bedchamber because she did
not want to face anyone.”

“If that is typical of Miss Thistlewaite’s behavior she has
no cause to complain when people speak ill of her.”

Cassie did not reply, letting his silence on the subject
speak for itself.
 
He assumed a wounded
expression and, although Malcolm staunchly defended his friend whenever it was
remarked that Lord Cassidy closely resembled a hound, Malcolm could not deny
the likeness was particularly strong when Cassie was sulking.

“I am sorry, Cassie, that my attentions to your cousin
caused you and your family distress.”
 
The large brown eyes continued to stare at him reproachfully.
 
“I did not set out to upset her, but neither
am I going to propose marriage to a woman just because I escorted her to the
opera.”

“No one said you had to,” Cassie said.

“Perhaps not, but it is what they want.
 
What are those dreams that I am accused of
destroying?
 
They are dreams of wedding
the ‘catch of the season’ purely for the sake of my fortune and holdings.
 
The only way I could fulfill the numerous
expectations I have excited is to become a polygamist.
 
If I even speak to a young lady she is
envisioning a trip down the aisle.”

“So why not just choose some girl and make an end of it,”
his friend suggested.

“Why do you think I am here tonight?
 
I am very anxious to find a suitable bride.”

“What is wrong with Julia?
 
She’s generally acknowledged a handsome girl,” Cassie said, although he
couldn’t quite meet his friend’s eyes.
 
Julia had harangued her cousin into discovering what she had done to
earn his friend’s displeasure.
 
Cassie
was trying to do his duty by suggesting Julia as a suitable bride, but he felt
uncomfortable doing so.
 
He knew better than
anyone just how annoying she could be.
 

 
“Your cousin is
handsome enough,” Malcolm agreed, “but she’s not the girl for me.”

“Why not?”
 
Cassie
asked.

 
“I don’t know,”
Malcolm said, shrugging his shoulders.
 
“She flutters her eyelashes too much.”

“What?
  
She flutters
her eyelashes too much?
 
That
is
the reason you did not call on her again?”

“It was very distracting.
 
I thought a few times she was dozing off.
 
Once I thought she was about to swoon so I
grabbed her arm.
 
That
made her
eyes open quickly enough.
 
I think she
believed her quivering eyelashes had incited me to make her an offer of
marriage.”

Cassie just shook his head, those canine eyes of his
expressing disappointment.

“Don’t look at me like that, Cassie.
 
That was not the only thing that decided me
against Miss Thistlewaite.”
 
Malcolm
reached into his waistcoat pocket and withdrew a piece of paper.
 
He unfolded it while Cassie attempted to look
at it over his shoulder.
 
It appeared to
Cassie to be a list of some kind.
 
Malcolm perused it carefully while Cassie strained to see what it
said.
 
He saw “Accomplished in music and
singing” and “Genteel relations” before the paper was waved triumphantly in
front of his face, Malcolm apparently having discovered what he was looking
for.
 

“Here it is.
 
Item
4:
 
‘The ability to converse in a
sensible fashion.’
 
The only type of
conversation Miss Thistlewaite enjoys is one composed entirely of flirtatious
remarks or flowery compliments.
 
When I
asked her what opinion she held about the Corn Laws she replied that restraint
in one’s diet was bound to have a healthful effect.”

Cassie did not express any amusement upon hearing of his
cousin’s
faux pas
.
 
He hurriedly
changed the subject as he did not want to become involved in some dull
political discussion.
 
“What is that,
Malcolm?
 
Is that a list?”
 
Cassie tried to remove it from Malcolm’s
hand, but Malcolm hurriedly folded it and returned it to his waistcoat pocket.

“Yes, it is.”

“You have some sort of list of qualifications for a bride?”
Cassie asked, his voice higher than usual.

“So?”

“So, that is demmed arrogant of you, if you ask me.
 
No wonder you cannot settle upon anyone.
 
You want them to meet some catalogue of
requirements, like, like…a tandem horse you’re purchasing from Tattersall’s.”

Malcolm seized upon his friend’s analogy.
 
“Exactly.
 
I have definite requirements when filling my stable.
 
Why should I not have even more stringent
requirements for a bride?
 
It is
absolutely absurd to spend more time examining a horse than a wife, a lifelong
companion you will see morning, noon and night.”

Since Cassie was of that breed of Englishman that considered
a
horse
a lifelong companion to be seen morning, noon and night, his
friend’s argument may not have carried the force it was meant to.
 
He just muttered, “Are you going to check her
teeth, too?”

Cassie avoided Julia for nearly a week after his
conversation with Malcolm, but upon receiving her third missive he presented
himself at his aunt’s town house.
 
In her
letter Julia had declared her intention of calling on him herself if necessary,
unescorted, and he had no desire to be forced to offer for his hothead of a
cousin.

He awaited Julia in the drawing room, looking about him in
strong disapproval.
 
Everything was in
the first style of elegance, but his aunt seemed to have gone too far in
following the Prince Regent’s latest taste for chinoiserie.
 
Every sofa or chair handle had a dragon’s
head, and one cabinet was filled to overflowing with pieces of pottery, glazed
ceramic animals, and stone carvings of creatures that were the stuff of
nightmares.
 
He was examining one
objet
d’art
closely, a figurine of an old Chinese sage with oversized eyebrows
and a maniacal smile, when his cousin spoke in his ear.

 
“He does not bite,
you know.”

He started dramatically at the sound of her voice and she
laughed at the success of her surprise.
 
“You have the manners of a fishwife,” he told her, waiting for his
cousin to sit before trying to fold his lanky body into one of the
uncomfortable chairs.

“I would not know, as I do not keep the low society you
do.”
 
She waved away his angry rebuttal,
saying, “Never mind, I apologize for scaring you.”

“You did not scare me, I was—” Cassie said, before
being interrupted once again.

“I apologized, did I not?
 
Do not worry; I shan’t tell anyone that you find a small piece of
pottery so intimidating.”
 
Cassie began
sputtering again, but Julia hurried to the point.
 
“What did Malcolm have to say?
 
You promised you would speak to him at Lord
Wesleigh’s ball and I have not heard from you since.”

Cassie eyed his cousin in irritation, cursing the fates for
making it necessary for him to claim kinship with such a selfish, spoiled
girl.
 
Neither of them had any siblings
and they were only a few years apart in age, so their parents had forced them
into each other’s company from childhood on.
 
Julia had been an attractive child and had grown up into a pretty young
woman, with auburn hair, light green eyes and delicate features.
 
Her air of innocent fragility still managed
to deceive most people as to her true nature but Cassie was not fooled.
 
There was nothing fragile about his cousin’s
will.

“Well?” she asked, drumming her fingers impatiently upon a
dragon’s head.

“Yes, well, Malcolm agreed you were a handsome girl—”

“Did he?” Julia asked, an expression of pleased surprise on
her face.
 
“That is good news.
 
I must say, I thought I had displeased him in
some way.
 
This is better news than I’d
hoped for—”

“Wait,” Cassie said, interrupting her exultations.
 
“He is not at all interested in you.”

Cassie had not meant to make such a blunt pronouncement and
felt a little twinge of guilt when his cousin’s face fell.
 
He might not like Julia, but he could not
bear to see any lady cry, and he hurried to stave off the tears he thought he
saw gathering in her eyes.
 
“He’s got
this list, you see, and you did not meet the fourth qualification.
 
Believe me, I would not have met it either; I
have no interest in politics and have always found the Corn Laws particularly
confusing.
 
I mean, what difference does
it make if they grow the corn in Berkshire or
France
.
 
Corn is corn, right?”

Julia didn’t answer, but Cassie was pleased to see there
didn’t appear to be any danger of her crying any longer.
 
In fact, she looked almost ferocious.
 
“He has a list?” she asked, in a voice that
was far too calm.

“Yes, well, I must say I did not care for the idea at first
myself, but when he explained it to me I could see his point.
 
Who wants to ride in a carriage pulled by a
badly matched pair?
 
It would be quite uncomfortable.”

Julia ignored this seeming
non sequitur
and tried to
return to the point of the discussion.
 
“I would like to know what is on this list, Cassie.
 
Did you see it?”

“It would do you no good.
 
No good at all.
 
Even if you had
passed the Corn Laws test your eyelashes irritate him to no end.”

“My
eyelashes
?
 
Is the man deranged?”

“No, not at all.
 
You
just cannot fool him with those tricks you pull.
 
He hates flirtatious games.”

Julia rose from her seat to pace furiously about the room,
muttering things like: “The unmitigated gall!” and “What conceit!”
 
Cassie rose when his cousin did, but she
waved him back into his seat where he shifted nervously, suddenly aware that he
had said far too much.