Once Upon a Kiss (Book Club Belles Society) (28 page)

“Well? How far has it gone, Jussy? Must I take out my father’s flintlock? He has acquired a new one, you know, very smart, with a flick bayonet. I am quite impatient for an excuse to use it.”

“It is just a few kisses. That is all.” She shook her head. “He bribed me into it. Why? Who have
you
kissed?” Since Wainwright had taught her an important lesson about bargaining, she would say nothing more until she’d heard her friend’s story.

“I have kissed no one,” Becky whispered, “but there was a man once…” She looked down at her hands and adjusted her gloves. “My brother owed him a debt.”

Justina stared. “Go on.”

“It was five years ago, and before we came here. We were encamped at Brighton. My brother was going to give the man our mama’s music box to pay the debt, but I refused to part with it. That music box is all we have left of her.”

“Of course.”

“So the man…well, he agreed to excuse my brother’s debt on one condition.”

Justina covered her mouth with her hand. “You never did!”

“Oh no, not
that
.” Becky chuckled. “He simply made me promise to owe him a kiss. The next time we met. You see, I was only seventeen and he said I was too young for him to kiss. But he forgave Nate’s entire debt to him just on that promise. Don’t you think that’s odd?” She looked away across the shop, her eyes growing misty. “He was an eccentric fellow and I never saw him again. Sometimes I imagine he will come back to claim his kiss.” Her shoulders shook in a little shiver that seemed more excited than fearful. “I don’t suppose he will now. But seeing you with Mr. Wainwright made me think of it again, after so long.”

Justina wasn’t sure she believed the story. Becky might have made it up, just to have something to share in return. “What was his name, then?”

The other young woman raised a hand to tidy her hair, glancing around nervously. “I only heard him called by one name, which was even odder. Everyone called him Lucky. That’s the only name my brother ever knew him by. He was perfectly horrid.”

“Then you should be glad he hasn’t found you again,” said Justina solemnly. “It is very hard to be bribed into kisses.” She turned her head and caught Wainwright watching her warmly. “As you say, it is perfectly horrid.”

Becky agreed. “I don’t suppose Elizabeth or Jane Bennet would ever be blackmailed into kisses.”

“True,” Justina replied, sighing wistfully as she watched his smile and realized that was now yet another kiss she owed him. “But they are fictional. It’s much more difficult to live in the real world. As they would discover, if they had our problems.”

“Raining, again! Oh, this dismal place.” Mary glared out at the stream of water currently gushing against the rattling dining room windows.

“I think you’ll find it rains just as much in Town as it does in the country,” Darius replied croakily, flipping open a napkin.

“Why then does it feel so much worse? And colder, too. I’m quite certain it is never this cold and windy in Town.” She turned away from the grim view and took her seat at the breakfast table. “I shall say only this—the villagers here are incompetent, rude, and unobliging. There is no fashion here, no style, no conversation to be had that is worthwhile. I cannot think why you have remained here this long, Darius. What can be your excuse? I see nothing but a bunch of forward young ladies who will do anything for your attention.”

“I believe you just answered your own question, Mary.” He sneezed into his napkin and she eyed him sternly.

“What was that, Darius?”

Rather than answer, he screwed up his face and readied the napkin again.

“I hope you have not caught a cold, Darius. How could you?”

“I agree. The acquisition of this cold was a wretched decision. What was I thinking?”

“Now look at you! I have never seen you ill, Darius. Never! First of all you dash off with my carriage and not a word to anyone about where you’re going. And before you’re even shaved. Then you come back sneezing all over us.”

Augusta Milford grabbed the coffee pot and she poured it first for him. “You must drink lots of warm fluids, Mr. Wainwright.” The next thing he knew she was trying to cut up his sausages for him.

He quickly took the knife from her hand. “Thank you, Miss Milford, but I always eat them whole.”

She drew back.

Darius picked up his fork, speared a plump sausage and raised it thus to his lips, taking a large bite of one end.

The woman sat abruptly. “Well, goodness!”

“Don’t pay any mind to him, Augusta. A sick man is always best ignored and left to get over it. He will be grumpy and tedious, like a teething babe. It is his fault entirely, and I have no sympathy.”

In fact he wasn’t very hungry at all, but the last thing he wanted was Augusta Milford fussing over him.

“We really ought to make plans for travel,” Mary continued. “I have already left my darling little ones far longer than I should, just to bring you back to civilization.”

“I wish you had not bothered.”

“But someone had to fetch you.”

“I certainly can’t travel now,” he muttered. “Not with this cold.”

“I hope you didn’t catch it from one of
those
women. Wasn’t one of them sick not too long ago? Ugh.” She shivered dramatically. “I shall say only this—the country is the most appallingly dirty place, so very unhealthy. Too many people crammed into little rooms, all breathing the same fetid air. These country folk have no sense of hygiene. I shudder to think of touching any of them.”

He put down his sausage. “And vice versa, I’m sure.”

“What was that?” she demanded shrilly.

He sniffed. “I know plenty of people in Town with whom I would never want to shake hands.”

To his relief the front door bell clanged.

“Well, who on earth could that be?” Mary exclaimed. “Who would come out in such weather?”

A few moments later Mrs. Birch brought two drenched visitors to the dining room. Miss Sherringham and Justina.

Didn’t she even possess an umbrella?
he mused. The wayward Miss Penny looked bedraggled as a cat left out all night in a rainstorm. She stood there, making a puddle on his carpet, probably leaving a stain.

And he thought how lovely she was. Belatedly he remembered his manners, stood, and bowed from the waist.

A sneeze shot out of him.

“Bless you!” the new arrivals chorused.

Miss Sherringham gave him a wide smile. “Jussy has agreed to write parts for you all if you would like to join the Priory Players. I do hope your impression of us was not tainted already by what happened at the card party, Lady Waltham. We would be honored to have you take part. I’m sure it will be the highlight of the play.”

Miss Sherringham, he concluded, was a canny young woman to have read Mary’s vanity already and known exactly how to appeal to it. Very soon his stepsister was persuaded there might not be so much hurry for her to return to her “darling little ones” after all. Not when she could lend her talents to the Priory Players.

“Will Dockley’s barn be a fit place to rehearse in all this rain?” Darius asked, trying to hold back another sneeze.

“We did not yet collect enough donations to get the roof fixed, but we have some old sail cloth to cover the worst of the holes. Besides, we’ve managed well enough in the past.” Rebecca Sherringham’s eyes were rich, treacle brown, surveying him with a knowing shine. “Will you join us too, Mr. Wainwright? We can always make use of handsome gentlemen in the cast.”

“Good Lord, no!” exclaimed Mary. “Darius would never set foot on a stage.”

He gave in to another sneeze that almost knocked him back into his chair. Justina immediately suggested she fetch her father.

“’Tis only a cold,” he mumbled.

“But a bad cold can always develop into much worse,” she replied, hurrying across the room to grip his jacket sleeve between her thumb and forefinger in what had already become a familiar way to him. “Let’s get you to bed, Mr. Wainwright.”

He went meekly, with only a token drag of heel, his stepsister’s frown carving her irritation into his back.

***

Darius would not hear of her going for her father on foot and insisted she take his stepsister’s barouche. Justina saw Lady Waltham’s infuriated glances, but the matter was settled quickly. Despite his quiet ways, Darius Wainwright usually got what he wanted, so she found.

Within a half hour she returned to Midwitch with her father and found the master of the house in his bedchamber. Of course it would be improper for the other ladies to enter, but they hovered at his door, feigning concern. Justina felt that if his stepsister was truly anxious, she would have sent him to bed already that morning and called for the doctor. As for Miss Milford, her concern, as usual, was about herself and her place in the pecking order.

“I must be the one to sit with him, for I have known him longest, and Lady Waltham’s health is too fragile to be endangered with the task of nurse.”

Justina’s father merely smiled as he donned his “doctoring” wig—an item he avoided unless it was absolutely necessary, for he said it made him itch. “My daughter has attended many a bedside with me, madam. I’m sure she can be trusted to manage the gentleman. Unless he thinks otherwise.”

There was no complaint uttered from inside the room, so her father shut the door on both the other ladies, leaving them out in the hall with Miles Forester, who quickly urged them away with the promise of entertainment and, most importantly, a warm fire in the drawing room.

Keen to prove herself capable, Justina stood at the patient’s bedside with her father, ready to wipe the sick man’s brow with a cool cloth. Not that it was nearly as hot as she expected.

“I blame myself, Mr. Wainwright,” she said solemnly. “You should not have walked us home after the party in that bitter cold last week.”

He looked up at her from his pillow. “But
you
are quite well.”

“I am of strong country stock, sir.”

“You mean a dandified Town gent like me is too delicate for your weather?”

“It would seem so, wouldn’t it?”

He coughed feebly. “Then, since it’s your fault, you must stay and nurse me, until I am fit and well. You must not leave my side or I fear my decline will be rapid. Perhaps even”—he paused for another cough—“fatal.”

Justina glanced nervously at her father, but Dr. Penny was humming softly as he examined the patient. She threw Darius a warning look.

He gave a frail sigh. “Otherwise, Miss Milford might get her way.”

Hmm. Perhaps she ought to stay and look after him. Wouldn’t want Miss Milford to have her way with him.

Her father was in agreement. “You stay here, Jussy, and see him through the worst of it.” Although it was merely a cold, he exaggerated the situation to such an extent that even Wainwright looked alarmed. “That fire must be built up at once,” her father exclaimed, “and you, Jussy, must make him some of your good broth and a compress for his head. I’m sure Mrs. Birch has some goose grease for his chest. I shall leave you powders for a mustard bath. Make sure he rests. Keep him warm to chase out the fever.” He itched under his wig with one finger, knocking it to one side so she had to straighten it for him again. “I cannot stay, but I’m sure your mama can spare you at home. If Mr. Wainwright has no objection. You should be where you are needed, Jussy.”

Once again the patient uttered no protest to this idea.

Glad to be given a responsibility and a chance to prove herself, she nodded firmly. “I shall then, Papa. If you think it’s best. Just until he sleeps.”

Her father smiled at the man in the bed. “I leave you then in the capable hands of my daughter.”

***

The rain continued all day and the light was dim in his chamber, so she brought two lanterns upstairs for his bedside. As she moved around his bed, administering a compress for his sore head, preparing a steaming bowl of aromatic water to clear his nose, and feeding him beef broth, she was very serious for once, efficient and firm. No nonsense. He pondered his good fortune in having such a devoted nurse.

Mary would not want the duty. When anyone was sick she stayed as far away as possible—even from her own children, leaving them to the care of the nanny or nursemaid. Miss Milford was successfully kept at bay by the fear of contagion. For a woman whose main enjoyment came from sticking her nose into the business of others, being kept off her feet and confined to bed would be torture. Although she came knocking at the door for progress reports throughout the day, he sensed her motive was not truly to see if he improved, but to ensure he really
was
sick.

As if he might possibly make up a fib to delay leaving Hawcombe Prior.

Really!

Bearing in mind that Miss Milford’s first sight of Justina had been of her drawers, he thought with some amusement that the lady probably also wanted to ensure his nurse kept all her clothes on.

“Does Dr. Penny always provide his patients with dedicated caretakers?” he asked Justina, as she prepared to take his supper tray downstairs. “Even for a cold?”

“Only when the patient is very important and very rich,” she replied with an arch look over her shoulder.

“His fee will be great then, I fear.”

“Of course. We must take advantage of you while we have you, Mr. Wainwright.”

When she left the room, Miles came in to see how he felt and to report on Sir Mortimer’s training, which had become a battle of wits between the complacent, pampered beast and the complacent, pampered gentleman.

“How is your nurse?” he asked with a wily grin.

“Quite exceptional and very strict.”

“You sly wretch.”

“I cannot think what you mean, Forester.”

“Oh, of course not.”

“Please send her back up to me.” He coughed. “I’m sure my fever has increased.”

Miles left the chamber, laughing.

***

She was on her way up to the patient, carrying a jug of water, when she encountered Lady Waltham on the small half-landing at the turn of the stairs. Lost in her thoughts, Justina did not see the other woman until they almost collided in the dim light. The wall paneling was heavy and dark, with dying daylight barely strong enough to creep through the narrow window above them. There, shrouded in shadow, Lady Waltham cast a frightening figure. She might have been one of those suits of armor come to life and made its way down from the long gallery. Her large, ungainly form blocked the second flight of stairs.

“Excuse me, Lady Waltham.”

For a long moment she did not speak, and seemed in no haste to move, either. Finally she opened her hard mouth and snapped out, “I know what you are, Miss Penny.”

Justina squinted. The jug in her arms was becoming heavy. “Oh?”

“And I know that men will have their playthings. It is a necessary evil to which ladies such as myself and Miss Milford must turn a blind eye. But I hope you know that this is a temporary diversion for him. He would never marry the likes of you.”

What could one say to that? In fact, many retorts came to her mind, but she decided to let none of them out.

“He will marry Miss Milford. Or if not her, another lady of similar breeding, class, and fortune. A lady I need not be ashamed to invite to my parties and balls. You, my dear girl, are merely a last minute rebellion for my stepbrother. Oh, I can see the attraction for you. No doubt he has spent money on you and your family. I have heard from Miles Forester all about my stepbrother’s plans to put a new roof on that broken-down barn where you and your friends entertain yourselves for lack of anything else to do. His attention must have done much for you. But it will not last. Such things never do.”

She swallowed. Her hands had slipped, but she managed to keep hold of the jug.

Lady Waltham’s eyes looked dry and hot as they bore down upon her. “You do not deny it then? That you are his mistress? That you have schemed and seduced your way into his bed while no one was here to watch over him?”

Suddenly she wanted to laugh, but curbed it. Shoulders back, head high, she replied, “I do not believe it is any business of yours what I am to Mr. Wainwright. If I am his mistress, you have declared me to be a necessary evil, so what is your purpose in asking me? Or do you want details?”

The other woman shook like a kettle about to blow its lid.

“
Excuse
me
, Lady Waltham.” This time she nudged her way by and continued up to the second floor of the house. As she turned the corner, she encountered a startled looking Miss Milford who, she had no doubt from her expression, had heard the entire conversation.

Since there was nothing to say that would not get her further into trouble, she nodded to the lady and walked onward with her jug of water.