The Wedding Season (5 page)

Hermione shook her head with a doubtful frown. “If his lordship only thought of you in connection to me, he should loathe you. Surely you do not think he loathes you?”

“Hardly.” Rebecca turned to gaze out the carriage window at the green hills and hedgerows. They reminded her of the enchanting tiered gardens at Stanhope Court. “His lordship was most courteous.”

Though she knew part of it might have been a calculated bid to gain her assistance, she sensed Sebastian genuinely liked her. What was more, he seemed to value those aspects of her character that others might consider flaws.

Hermione chuckled to herself as if at some secret jest. “It
is clear your opinion of him has not altered for the worse. To hear the two of you talk, one would think you were old friends.”

Rebecca could not dispute that observation, though she knew Hermione did not understand, or entirely approve of her liking for Lord Benedict. She had never felt so much at ease with anyone she’d known such a short time. Usually it took a while for her to warm to new acquaintances and begin to trust them. Yet, on only their third meeting, she had confided some of her most private feelings to Sebastian, not to mention agreeing to the familiarity of first names. Part of her regretted being so unguarded, but another part welcomed such unaccustomed closeness.

“Did you have any opportunity to recommend me to his lordship?” Hermione’s question jarred Rebecca from her musing. “Or were you too busy enjoying his gardens and his company?”

“The gardens are marvelous aren’t they?” Rebecca hoped she might have the opportunity to see them again, though she doubted she would enjoy them quite so much without the stimulation of Sebastian’s company. “Lord Benedict and I talked a little about you and his brother. Though our opinions on your suitability for one another are entirely opposite, that did not prevent us from having a polite exchange of views. I believe he hopes to change my mind as I hope to change his.”

Hermione straightened abruptly and leaned toward Rebecca. “You won’t let him do that, will you? I don’t know what I should do if I lost your support.”

“Never fear.” Rebecca cast her dear young friend a reassuring smile. “Though I may seem quiet and placid, I am stubborn in clinging to my beliefs. It will take much more
formidable persuasion to budge me than Lord Benedict can bring to bear.”

“It is not his formidable persuasion that worries me,” Hermione replied. “I am afraid he may charm you over to his way of thinking.”

Rebecca had to admit, at least to herself, that was the more likely possibility.

“C
ome along now,” Sebastian chivied his brother a few days after the ladies had visited Stanhope Court. “You don’t want to be late, do you? If you’re so much in love, you should be chomping at the bit to see your sweetheart again.”

“Of course I’m anxious to see Hermione.” Claude took one more minute to survey his appearance in the looking glass and adjust his neck linen. “But why are
you
so eager to get to Rose Grange? Have you come to your senses and realized what a wonderful wife she will make me?”

“Hardly.” Sebastian jammed on his hat. The more time he spent in the company of Hermione Leonard, the more opposed he became to his brother’s hasty betrothal. “I still believe she is too green and countrified to take her place in Society. I don’t want a repeat of the past and neither should you, if you have any sense.”

“Rubbish!” Claude swept past him out the door. “Hermione is nothing like Lydia and I am constantly reminded that I am not at all like you.”

He clambered down the stairs and climbed into the waiting gig, grabbing the reins. Sebastian followed at a more deliberate pace.

Why did his brother sound so slighted by what must obviously be a compliment? And why could Claude not see that he was on the brink of making the very same mistake his brother had made? If there was anything to be gained from a painful past, surely it was the warning it provided for the future.

Sebastian had barely settled beside his brother when Claude snapped the reins and the gig shot off down the steep, winding lane at reckless speed.

Before Sebastian could protest, his brother raised his voice above the rumble of the horse’s hooves and the rattle of the wheels. “What gall you have, sneering at Hermione’s background when you are so obviously smitten with a mere governess!”

“I…smitten…” Sebastian sputtered “…with Rebecca? Ridiculous!”

“Rebecca?” cried Claude in a tone that was at once triumphant and accusing. “You are clearly on very familiar terms with the woman, which proves my charge cannot be so ridiculous after all.”

“It doesn’t mean what you think,” Sebastian protested. “I was only trying to put Miss Beaton at ease.” That
was
all he’d meant by it, he assured himself, so the lady might be more inclined to use her influence with Hermione Leonard. He could not deny he found Rebecca…Miss Beaton…an attractive woman with many fine qualities he particularly prized. That did not mean he was
smitten
with her!

They were only briefly acquainted, after all, and her background was far different from his…at least he assumed it was. Out of the blue, Sebastian found his thoughts consumed by a desperate curiosity about Rebecca’s family and her past.

Confound it all! Could Claude be right? Had his plan to debate the merits of his brother’s engagement been nothing more than a convenient excuse to spend more time in Rebecca’s company? What troubled Sebastian most was that he could have deceived himself so easily.

Well, no more. Now that he recognized what was happening to him, he would soon put a stop to it. He must win the debate, free his brother from the snare of his engagement and get them both far away from the dangerously romantic atmosphere of the Cotswolds.

As he had warned his brother, when it came to matters of the heart, he did not want the past to repeat itself.

“Please try to hold still, Hermione.” Rebecca cast a critical frown at her sketching paper. “How am I ever to capture a good likeness if you are always changing position?”

Since it was rather a cool, dull day, the two of them had taken refuge in the sitting room and seized the opportunity to begin her commission for Mr. Stanhope.

“I’ll try,” Hermione sighed, “but it isn’t easy to stay still with nothing to do. I’d rather keep busy so I don’t have too much time to think.”

“Think about what?” Rebecca concentrated on reproducing the graceful line of Hermione’s neck. The pensive expression on her face was not at all suited to the kind of sketch Claude Stanhope wanted.

“About getting married, of course.” Hermione changed position yet again, propping her chin upon her raised hand.

“Why?” Rebecca strove to keep her inquiry casual as she flicked her pencil this way and that to suggest Hermione’s unruly cascade of curls. “Are you having second thoughts about accepting Mr. Stanhope’s proposal?”

Could Sebastian be right, after all, in his reservations about the young couple’s betrothal? She’d been so delighted at the prospect of Hermione making such a fine match, might she have ignored signs of discord?

Forgetting Rebecca’s plea to stay still, Hermione shook her head. “Not about my feelings for him, if that is what you mean. Though he is the brother of a viscount, he’s not at all proud. He is always so kind and agreeable and…”

“And?” Rebecca’s pencil flew as she strove to catch the fond expression in Hermione’s dark eyes.

“…and I feel he needs someone to love him. His parents died when he was quite young so he’s only had his brother…”

Rebecca was pleased she’d captured that sweet, elusive look before a chill of aversion crept into Hermione’s gaze. “Whatever your differences with Lord Benedict, I do believe he cares for his brother very much.”

There she went, defending him again.

It was true, though. If Sebastian cared less about his brother’s happiness, he would not be trying so hard to break up a match he deemed unsuitable.

“That may be.” Hermione’s pretty mouth pursed in a doubtful look that quite spoiled its shape. “But his lordship is not very good at expressing those kinds of feelings.”

Again Rebecca was tempted to disagree. The other evening in the terrace garden at Stanhope Court, Sebastian had shown considerable warmth. Then again, she recalled, he had not been on the point of proposing to her as she’d so foolishly assumed. Had she mistaken him in other matters as well?

“Perhaps their parents’ deaths affected Lord Benedict, too.” The instant that notion occurred to her, Rebecca sensed it might be true.

She felt an even deeper kinship to the man for having endured the same kind of early bereavement she had. His title and fortune could not have compensated for that. Might it be the reason for his staunch support of British troops—because he wanted to see fewer casualties, leaving fewer young orphans of war?

The sudden appearance of the Leonard’s housemaid distracted Rebecca and Hermione from their conversation. “Two gentlemen come to call on you, Miss Leonard. Viscount Benedict and the Honorable Mr. Stanhope.”

“Show our guests in at once, Mary. Then go fetch us tea, please.” Hermione leaped from her chair and smoothed her skirts in a manner that looked both eager and anxious.

Rebecca felt only the former. The mere mention of Sebastian’s name had set her heart aflutter. When he strode into the room a moment later, he seemed to bring a rush of fresh spring air with him.

After an initial flurry of greetings, Claude Stanhope and Hermione retired to the window seat to converse in hushed tones.

If Sebastian resented being ignored, he did not show it, but approached Rebecca and examined her sketch. “An excellent likeness, indeed. You have succeeded in capturing Miss Leonard’s air of winsome youth.”

“How do you manage it?” Rebecca gave an indulgent chuckle.

“Manage what?” he inquired warily.

“To make that sound like a compliment to my sketch,” she lowered her voice to a furtive whisper, “but not to Hermione.”

She feared Sebastian might be offended by her impertinence, but instead a gush of hearty laughter burst from his lips. “That refreshing honesty again.” His laughter muted to
a mellow chuckle. “Perhaps that is the unique quality you bring to your sketching. Too many fashionable portrait painters work so hard to flatter their subjects that they lose any sense of life and truth. I have never been satisfied with any portrait of me. Though, I daresay they are all a good deal better looking than their subject.”

“I cannot imagine that.” Rebecca’s gaze traced the contours of his features as if committing a sketch of him to her memory.

When she reached his eyes, she gave a guilty start, fearing what he would make of her blatant admiration. But he seemed not to notice.

“Would you be willing to make a sketch of me?” he asked.

Much as she would welcome the opportunity to stare at him to her heart’s content, Rebecca replied in a murmur not meant to reach the ears of Hermione and Mr. Stanhope. “Confess, what you truly want is an excuse to spend time with me so you can expound all your arguments against your brother’s engagement.”

He seemed about to deny it, then appeared to sense that she would accept nothing less than the unvarnished truth.

“Perhaps I am looking for an excuse.” Sebastian gave a rueful shrug. “But I would like to have at least one portrait of myself, to pass down to future generations of Stanhopes, that honestly shows the kind of man I am. Please say you will accept my commission.”

Her deeply ingrained discretion warned Rebecca she should politely refuse. Her liking for Sebastian was growing dangerously deep even though she knew there was no hope of him returning her feelings. And she could not afford to risk the least suspicion of impropriety or it might ruin her chances of finding a good position in the future.

But how could she deny his request when he fixed her with that beseeching gaze? Besides, if she obliged him, it might put Sebastian in a more receptive mood to hear her arguments in Hermione’s favor.

“Very well, then, if you’re so set on it.” She picked up her sketching pencil and pointed toward the chair Hermione had vacated. “We can start now, if you are willing.”

“Entirely.” Sebastian seated himself, then called to his brother. “See here, Claude, Miss Beaton has agreed to draw my picture. What manner of pose should I assume?” He struck one exaggerated attitude, then another, making them all laugh…even Hermione.

“Not at all if you want a true likeness,” Rebecca advised him. “Just sit still and talk about something that interests you. That will give your features animation.”

Mr. Stanhope nodded toward the sitting room window. “I believe I see a ray of sunshine. Shall we take a turn around your garden, Hermione, so we do not disturb the artist or her sitter?”

With an eager nod, Hermione took his arm. “Try not to move about if you can help it,” she warned Sebastian, “or Miss Beaton will get vexed with you.”

Though Rebecca sensed the young pair were more interested in their privacy than her sketch of Sebastian, she waved them on their way.

Once they had gone, Rebecca took the sketch of Hermione from her easel and carefully rolled it up. Then she replaced it with a piece of fresh paper. “I was going to suggest you tell me more about your efforts to muster support for the troops. But now I think we should resume our debate.”

“My thought precisely,” Sebastian agreed.

Rebecca began to outline the shape of his face with care
ful strokes. “Tell me, then, what other objections do you have to your brother’s engagement?”

He thought for a moment, as if mentally checking his list for a persuasive argument. “Here is one you are too prudent to dispute—they have not been acquainted long enough. I sent Claude here after Christmas and now it is only May. How can they possibly have come to know each other well enough to enter into a lifelong union? How can they know their own feelings are deep and lasting enough to stay the course?”

Rebecca’s hand trembled a little, making her pencil wobble over the curve of his left ear. A week ago, she would have agreed with Sebastian wholeheartedly. But lately she’d discovered how quickly feelings for one special person could take root in the heart.

“I will concede that Hermione and your brother have not known each other long.” Rebecca’s pencil made a soft scratching sound as it moved over the paper.

Somehow Sebastian knew her sketch would depict him in a way he could appreciate. She seemed to see him more clearly than anyone else did.

“You’ll do what?” He had been so absorbed in watching her work that he’d scarcely heeded what she was saying. “Concede? Does that mean…?”

“Does it mean I will admit defeat?” Rebecca completed his sentence with the very words he’d intended to speak. “And advise Hermione to break the engagement? No, indeed. Though I have little experience of such matters, I believe it is possible for two people to quickly recognize they share a special…connection.”

Her words trailed off as she became more absorbed in her task. Sebastian wondered what she had meant by “little
experience.” Little did not mean none at all. Could there have been a young man in her past who’d caught her fancy? Someone she wished had proposed or whom she regretted not accepting? Though he knew it was foolish, Sebastian could not quell a spasm of envy toward the lad who might have once held her hand or stolen a kiss.

Unable to prevent himself from inquiring, he strove to mask the depth of his curiosity with a casual tone. “Have you ever felt that sort of connection with someone you’d only known a short while?”

Rebecca ducked behind her easel, busily adding to her sketch. “There was a group of girls I met at school. We had not known each other long before I felt a strong bond of mutual sympathy. Though we are all scattered throughout the kingdom now, I still think of them frequently with great affection. We exchange letters as often as we are able, but I would dearly love to see them all again.”

The wistful note in her voice made Sebastian long to whisk her away in his carriage to visit every one of her friends. It elated him to discover she had not been alluding to a past love, and yet it saddened him too. Rebecca Beaton was meant to be cherished and cared for, not to spend her whole life moving from family to family, educating their pampered daughters until they had no further need of her services. “Have
you
ever felt that sort of immediate connection?” Her question turned the tables on Sebastian. Caught in her deft ambush, he nearly blurted the truth. Fortunately, hard-won experience came to his rescue. Was Rebecca leading him on, seeking to win him over with her arts of attraction as he sought to win her with his powers of debate?