Mistletoe, Marriage, and Mayhem: A Bluestocking Belles Collection Page 3

  Christopher arched a dark winged brow. "It doesn't matter why or how you ended up in Arlington's arms, Tessa. The fact is, you were caught flagrantly kissing the man, in your stockinged feet, no less, while Arlington was also in a state of dishabille. And now, courtesy of Lady Salter, I'd say everyone attending Emma's ball tonight knows it, too. You've been thoroughly compromised, and the only way to save your name, and our family's, is for you to wed. The sooner the better. A Yuletide wedding sounds good to me. I'll ensure Jasper obtains a special license before the week is out."

  Frustration and embarrassment coursed through Tessa, heating her cheeks to scalding-hot. "Lord Arlington came to my art studio with Lady Montagu, and I had to endure overhearing the whole sordid encounter," she said, her voice rough with barely suppressed anger. "Is that the kind of man you wish me to marry, Christopher? Is it?"

  Her brother's face paled visibly. "I'm dreadfully sorry to hear that, Tessa. You shouldn't have had to witness something like that." He placed his hands on the desktop on either side of his hips and drummed an angry tattoo for a moment, before fixing her with a penetrating, speculative look. "Yet, you still kissed him."

  "He kissed me! He was foxed and, fool that he is, thought I wouldn't tell you about his tryst with Lady Montagu if he… attempted to compromise me. A completely illogical form of blackmail, if you ask me. I can't believe you call him friend."

  Christopher ran a hand down his face then huffed out a sigh. "The way I see it, Tessa, there are only two options. Either you marry him, or I call him out."

  "No!" Tessa sprang to her feet and grasped one of her brother's hands. "You will not risk your life for my honor. Can't we just… If I went away somewhere with Aunt Beatrice. A grand tour on the Continent. Or… or a tour of the north, perhaps even Scotland. Surely, this will all blow over in time."

  Christopher shook his head, and the light in his eyes softened a little. "Tessa, you are such a babe in the woods. This will be in tomorrow's scandal sheets, and the whole of the ton will be talking about it. Emma's reputation will also be cast into shadow. You know she's set her heart on finding a wonderful match next Season. Marrying Arlington is the only way to make any of this go away."

  She shook her head. "I cannot…" Her voice cracked, and she swallowed past the hard lump in her throat, trying to regain control. "You know very well I cannot marry him." She didn't have to say or anyone else.

  "Oh, Tessa." Christopher gathered her into his arms. "I'll admit, you've probably seen the worst side of Lord Arlington tonight, but please believe me, he is a noble, good-natured, and generous man despite his superficial faults. Let me tell you, if anyone else had behaved in such a way, the blackguard would be in my pistol's sights come dawn tomorrow."

  Drawing back, he sought her gaze. "Perhaps, in time, you might be surprised to find that you and Jasper rub along quite well together. I believe you will find you have more in common than you think."

  "Aside from you? I rather doubt that." She accepted a linen handkerchief from her brother and dabbed at her eyes. "How is Emma?" If Emma couldn't forgive her for spoiling her night, Tessa would shoot Lord Arlington herself.

  "Shocked at first upon hearing the news, as you'd expect," replied Christopher, "but I also got the sense she might be secretly pleased for you. Either way, she'll be putting on a brave face, despite the scandal spreading like wildfire amongst the guests."

  After Aunt Beatrice had locked Lord Arlington into the art studio, she'd spoken with Christopher about 'the incident.' Emma had then reportedly decided to remain downstairs with their aunt and Lady Salter. Tessa's brow furrowed as she wondered if Aunt Beatrice had at least attempted to curb Lady Salter's dreadful tendency to gossip. Unless Aunt Beatrice wanted the gossip to spread… Tessa cast her mind back over their conversation in the supper room. What had her aunt said again? If you met the right sort of man…

  Although Aunt Beatrice clearly couldn't have engineered the events that took place in the art studio—or the unfortunate timing of when she'd decided to show Tessa's paintings to Lady Salter—Tessa wouldn't put it past her wily aunt to take advantage of the situation, even if Arlington was the wrong sort of man.

  She sighed. Not that it mattered now. What's done is done…

  Christopher tipped her chin up. "Your frown worries me. Promise me you won't do something completely mad and run off while I speak with Lord Arlington. It would look very bad if you weren't present in the ballroom when I formally announce your betrothal in a short while."

  Even though her stomach lurched with dread, Tessa summoned a small smile. "I promise I won't do anything rash. I would never intentionally damage Emma's chances at securing a happy match."

  Christopher dropped a kiss on her forehead. "Good. I will return soon."

  As the door clicked shut, Tessa dropped into the wingchair again then removed her ivory silk gloves and examined her hands. Her wrists and pale fingers were bare but for a few stubborn flecks of paint she hadn't been able to remove. She never wore jewelry of any kind, not even earbobs. How strange to think she would soon be wearing a wedding band on her left hand.

  And how strange to think Lord Arlington would soon learn her secret. Quiet despair gripped her heart as she contemplated the moment he would find out—that she was not the woman he probably thought she was.

  She brushed away a tear from her cheek then replaced her gloves, waiting for Christopher's summons. There really was nothing she could do. She wouldn't flee. She would adhere to her father's long-held tenet that she must never embarrass her family.

  It seemed Fate had decreed that by Christmas she would no longer be Miss Penrose, spinster and bluestocking, but Tessa, the Countess of Arlington.

  ***

  When Jasper awoke, his first thought was, he really wished he hadn't. For one thing, he had a splitting headache; it felt as if someone were hammering a large nail into his left temple. Secondly, his stomach roiled menacingly; so much so, he had to swallow down a wave of nausea. And finally, Christopher, Lord Trevilian, was standing over him like some great avenging pagan god.

  "Arlington, I believe we are about to become brothers."

  Swinging his legs to the floor, Jasper sat up and groaned. "Yes… about that—" Something soft and satiny struck him in the head, and he groaned again, clutching his throbbing skull. An avenging god with a cushion.

  "You're bloody lucky that wasn't my fist. Now get up so we can sort this whole mess out."

  "Agreed." Jasper lurched to his feet, taken aback by how half-sprung he still was. Once he'd steadied himself by grabbing onto the back of the settee, he met Trevilian's blazing blue gaze. "I will do the honorable thing, of course, and marry your sister. That is, if she'll have me." He winced. "You've probably heard I haven't acquitted myself in the most gentlemanly manner."

  Trevilian crossed his arms over his chest. "No. You haven't. And as I told Tessa, if it was anyone else who had dishonored her so, your heart would be pierced with my lead bullet come morning."

  Jasper grimaced. "To be fair, I didn't know she was in the room when I first entered with—" He broke off. No doubt Tessa had told her brother about his encounter with Lady Montagu, but, considering Trevilian's brow was furrowed with a deep scowl, he didn't think it wise to elaborate on the details of that part of the story. Deflection seemed prudent. "Hell, I'd entirely forgotten you even had another sister. Where in God's name have you kept her hiding all these years?"

  Trevilian sighed. "Tessa is… not the usual tonnish miss. She has never been one to attend social functions of any kind—" A knock sounded at the door, and he called, "Enter." His gaze returned to Jasper as a footman arrived bearing a silver coffee pot and a plate of hot, buttered crumpets upon a tray. "I took the liberty of sending for some refreshments. I thought you might need some sustenance before we announce your engagement to the mob downstairs."

  Jasper inclined his head as he took a seat upon the settee again. "Thank you."

  After the footman had departed, and they were b
oth armed with steaming cups of coffee, Jasper prompted his friend, "You were telling me about your sister. You know that society gatherings have always been an anathema to me as well. It seems Tessa and I have that in common, at least."

  When Trevilian didn't immediately respond, Jasper continued, "You must believe me, it was never my intention to compromise your sister so publicly or besmirch your family's good name."

  Trevilian arched an eyebrow. "Oh, so because you set out to ravish her in private, that makes it perfectly acceptable?"

  "Of course not," Jasper responded with a guilty grimace. He took a sip of his coffee then ventured, "Although, she is dashed attractive. Frankly, I'm surprised she isn't already married."

  Trevilian shrugged. "Becoming someone's wife has never been one of Tessa's goals in life. As you'll soon discover, she's an intelligent woman with a strong, philanthropic bent. And extremely artistically talented," he waved his hand about the room, "as you can clearly see."

  A bluestocking then. Winning Tessa's favor, after such a shaky start, was going to be no mean feat, but then, he'd never shied away from a challenge. Even if they never fell madly in love—a state of existence he'd heretofore never experienced or expected to experience—the notion of sharing an amicable partnership with an intelligent, slightly more mature woman definitely held some appeal.

  The memory of their kiss flooded his mind, and his blood immediately began to race in a way it hadn't in a long, long time. Tessa might be a bluestocking, but she was also passionate, judging by her response to his kiss.

  He smiled to himself. There might be an agreeable future in store for them yet.

  "You're thinking about seducing my sister right now, aren't you?"

  Jasper started guiltily. "I… er… as I said, she is exceptionally attractive. And I aim to make her happy."

  Trevilian lifted his brows. "Indeed, you will, Arlington. Or you'll answer to me."

  Jasper replaced his smile with a suitably sober expression. "I don't doubt that for a minute."

  Chapter Four

  A day later…

  "Excuse me, Miss Penrose. You have a gentleman caller. The Earl of Arlington." The words "your betrothed" were left unsaid.

  Tessa put down her paintbrush and glanced at the gold-embossed calling card on the silver tray proffered by Vickers, Penrose House's butler. As usual, Vickers's face was a study in imperturbability. Unlike her own face.

  For the first time in her adult life, she had a 'gentleman caller.' Apprehension and, if she were honest with herself, a small degree of anticipation bubbled through her veins, warming her blood and making her heart beat faster. After Christopher had formally announced her betrothal to Lord Arlington at the ball last night, she'd been set upon by a crowd of well-wishers offering their congratulations, and she had barely exchanged a glance or a word with her affianced.

  Of course, she had expected Lord Arlington would be calling on her sometime today. Which was for the best, really. It had been her experience that fear of the unknown was always worse than facing the object of one's fear. She placed her paint-streaked hand on her chest, where her heart pounded. How utterly dreadful. She was afraid of meeting with Lord Arlington, her husband-to-be.

  Vickers was still waiting patiently by her side for her response. She cleared her throat. "Yes. Show him to the drawing room, thank you."

  "Shall I also send for a tray of tea and cakes, Miss Penrose?"

  Oh, dear heavens she would have to play hostess. Tessa briefly contemplated telling Vickers not to worry, but then, why delay the inevitable? Lord Arlington would find out sooner or later what he had got himself into, and for her peace of mind, perhaps it would be better that he discovered exactly what that was. If she could just garner enough courage…

  "Yes, that would be wonderful, Vickers," she answered with a sigh of resignation.

  "Is there anything else, miss?" Vickers was still regarding her with his habitually sober expression, but she also thought she detected a compassionate light in his eyes. She suspected he was making a roundabout enquiry as to whether she wanted her aunt or sister present in the drawing room.

  "No, that will be all. Thank you," she replied with a confidence she in no way felt. "I will be down directly."

  "Yes, miss."

  After Vickers had departed, Tessa washed the paint smudges from her hands as best she could, then removed her cambric pinafore. She knew she looked far from her best, not having slept a wink last night. She scowled. Not for the first time in her life, she rued the fact she cared so much about what others thought of her appearance, and now, fool that she was, it seemed she cared about what Lord Arlington thought.

  Surely he must have been attracted to her just a little bit, if he had kissed her so readily. That kiss… She'd never experienced anything like it before, and, truth to tell, that is what had kept her awake for most of the night. A husband kissed his wife whenever he liked… and more…

  The 'more' was something Tessa didn't wish to dwell on, especially as it reminded her of whatever lewd act Lord Arlington and Lady Montagu had been involved in. Had there ever been a bride-to-be burdened with such disturbing knowledge? Every time she thought of that scene, she blushed and her lower belly ached in a most peculiar way. She would be naïve indeed, if she didn't recognize the feeling as lust—a most unseemly and unladylike response. Wicked, actually. It was a reaction that both confused and unsettled her, and she really should stop thinking about it. Especially now when she needed to be composed and clear-headed.

  Smoothing her still-damp palms down the skirts of her floral sarsenet day gown, Tessa hoped her cheeks weren't as red as the coquelicot ribbon trim and the tiny crimson rosebuds embroidered across the cream fabric. Gloves, she needed her gloves. And a shawl.

  Plunging her hand through the slit in her skirt into her purpose-built deep pocket, she pulled out a matching pair of cream kid gloves and pulled them on, then retrieved her crimson cashmere shawl from the back of the settee. She shuddered, recalling yet again what had happened there last night. She would arrange to have the upholstery replaced. Perhaps that would help her to stop revisiting the memory.

  Then Tessa realized with a sharp pang of sadness that she would be soon saying farewell to her studio. Lord Arlington no doubt kept a residence in town, and Christopher had mentioned his friend had an estate in Surrey, Arlington Abbey.

  Far, far away from Trevilian Hall in Cornwall. Far away from everyone and everything that was loved and familiar—her friends, her charity work, and her tutoring position at Mrs. Brooke's Academy. Far away from everything that was safe.

  Blinking away a sudden rush of tears, Tessa composed her expression and pulled her shawl tightly about her shoulders as she set forth from her room. She wouldn't let Lord Arlington see how vulnerable she really was until she was well and truly ready.

  However, all her plans to remain as calm as a Madonna in an Italian master's painting crumbled to dust when she entered the drawing room and caught sight of her affianced. Her hand gripped the doorknob, and her breath hitched as she froze in the doorway, utterly transfixed. Lord Arlington stood by one of the windows with his back to her, a study in male beauty. Her artist's eye traced the shape of his head beneath the close-cropped, light brown hair above his nape, and the impressive breadth of his shoulders shown to perfection in a superbly cut swallowtail-coat of dark green superfine. Her frankly admiring gaze fell without hesitation to his narrow hips before following the line of his long, muscular legs encased in form-fitting buff breeches and shiny Hessian boots. How she would love to paint him.

  A hot blush washed over her entire face to the roots of her hair when it struck her all over again that this fine specimen would soon be her husband.

  At that moment, Lord Arlington turned around. "Miss Penrose," he said with a courtly bow, a smile that appeared to be genuine curving his wide, well-shaped mouth. "Thank you for receiving me. I'm sure you feel, as I do, that there is much we need to discuss."

  Tessa swallowed.
"Yes," she managed. Her voice was mortifyingly breathless, and her blush deepened. She gestured toward an arrangement of chairs before the hearth. "Would you care to take a seat? Tea is on the way… I thought you might like…" Oh, Lord, she was a babbling mess. She sounded like a giddy schoolgirl, not a self-assured, twenty-five-year-old woman. But then, the ritual of taking tea had always been a trial for her. She suddenly regretted her decision not to send for Aunt Beatrice, or even Emma.

  Lord Arlington inclined his head. "Tea sounds like an excellent idea, Miss Penrose. Or may I call you Tessa?" His hazel eyes held hers, frank interest apparent in the topaz and emerald flecked depths. Such a mesmerizing palette of colors. She'd never seen such a fine pair of eyes before.

  "Miss Penrose?"

  Tessa started. "My apologies, Lord Arlington. Yes… you may call me Tessa." To cover her discomposure, she hurried over to the fireside and sat in the middle of the tapestry-covered settee, casting her gaze downward as she fussed over the arrangement of her skirts and the way her shawl draped about her arms. Out of the corner of her eye, she couldn't help but notice Lord Arlington folding his long, lean frame into a wingback chair with casual grace.

  He didn't seem the least bit nervous. But then, he was a practiced rake. She must always remember that. There was no point in losing her heart to him. She would do her duty as best she could. Considering her parents' union, she well knew love and marriage didn't always go hand in hand.

  "Well," he said, after a few moments, when it must have been obvious she wasn't about to begin the conversation, "this morning, I have secured our marriage license. With your agreement, we will be married within a fortnight."

  Tessa expelled a shaky breath. She still couldn't quite believe this was actually happening. "Oh. Yes. Christopher said you would arrange that." She halted, steeling herself to ask the question uppermost on her mind. "I imagine you should like us to marry at your estate in Surrey. Christmas is not far away, and I'm sure you have matters to attend to there."