Mary Balogh - Slightly Scandalous

It had been a wearying day for Joshua. His aunt had always been a tyrant and had ruled even her own family with an iron will, but she had reserved all her worst venom for the nephew who had arrived at Penhallow at the age of six, a bewildered, unhappy orphan, who had just lost both his mother and his father to a fever within three days of each other-though he had not even known it at the time. As he grew older, he had understood that her hatred for him was due in large part to the fact that out of four children she had been able to produce only one son. Albert was the heir, but he, Joshua, was the spare, so to speak.

There had been no love lost between him and Albert either. Albert had been smaller, weaker, and a year younger than Joshua. He had liked trying to flaunt the one great advantage he had over his cousin-and had been infuriated to discover that Joshua really had no interest in inheriting the title.

It had been a severe trial to Joshua to be forced into spending a full day in his aunt's company, shepherding her and Constance about Bath, introducing them to everyone of any social significance, his aunt's endearments and complaints in his ear every step of the way. But he could hardly abandon them to finding their own way about. They had come with the sole purpose of seeing him. Besides, he would not deliberately shun Constance even if he could. He had always been rather fond of his girl cousins.

He wondered how long they intended to stay, how long courtesy would oblige him to dance attendance upon them. There were, after all, the Lumbards with whom they could consort after today.

His aunt sank into a chair as soon as they had arrived in her private sitting room at the White Hart and her maid had borne off her bonnet and gloves and other outdoor garments.

"I am weary beyond words," she said, making Joshua wonder why she had been so insistent that he come inside, then. "And so are you, Constance, my love. Go and lie down on your bed for an hour. Joshua will excuse you."

"But, Mama-" Constance began.

"You are tired," her mother informed her. "Go and lie down."

Constance went obediently after Joshua had smiled sympathetically at her.

"I should leave you to rest too, Aunt," he said hopefully, but she waved him to a seat.

"Stay," she said. "Much time had passed since we last saw you, and you are Hallmere now. You must be very happy about that. I daresay it is what you always wanted."

He did not contradict her. What was the point? He sat down and crossed one leg over the other.

"You have grown into a fine figure of a man, Joshua," she said, frowning disapprovingly at him. "And your title and fortune make you doubly eligible. You are well received in Bath, I see. I am glad of it." She sounded anything but.

"Everyone is well received in Bath, Aunt," he said with a smile. "It is not as fashionable a resort as it used to be, especially among the young. Everyone is welcomed with open arms."

"There are at least some other young people here," she said. "The Misses Darwin are fine girls."

"They are," he agreed. "But I have difficulty telling them apart even though they are not twins."

"Miss Holt-Barron is very pretty," she said.

"And amiable too," he said. "I understand she is betrothed to Mr. Frederick Wheatcroft, son of Viscount Mitchell."

"Ah, yes," his aunt said. "The prettiest girls always go the fastest. Prettiness is certainly not a malady from which Lady Freyja Bedwyn suffers." Her tone had sharpened almost imperceptibly.

Joshua pursed his lips.

"She may be the sister of a duke," his aunt continued, "the Duke of Bewcastle, I believe? But her rank has apparently not made her attractive enough as a marriage prospect. She must be all of five or six and twenty and is quite sadly ugly. There is not a great deal she can do to disguise that nose, is there?"

Joshua thought Lady Freyja's nose was perhaps her most attractive feature, although her hair, especially when loose down her back and blowing out in a wild tangle in the wind, must come a close second.

"I have heard her described as handsome," he said.

"That is what people always say about girls when they are too kind to call them ugly," she said. "You went riding alone with her yesterday, Joshua? Was that not somewhat indiscreet?"

"We went riding with a party of eight," he explained, feeling amused. His aunt's unerring nose had led her to the right quarry, at least. "We went galloping alone together since the pace was not to our liking. Lady Freyja Bedwyn is a neck-or-nothing rider."

"As your aunt who knows more of life than you, Joshua," she said kindly, "I feel constrained to warn you of the wiles that aging and unattractive spinsters will employ when more genteel methods have failed to net them an eligible husband. If you are not very careful, Lady Freyja Bedwyn will trap you into compromising her virtue and you will find yourself forced to offer for her."

His lips twitched as he thought of the inn room in which he had first encountered Lady Freyja and of yesterday's hot embrace on the white rock up in the hills. He wondered if she would appreciate the joke if he were to tell her what his aunt had just said-or would her wrath know no bounds?

"Oh, you may smile, Joshua," his aunt said, looking frail and weary. "But do not say you have not been warned."

"I will not, Aunt," he promised.

"I can scarcely believe," she said, "that Constance is already three and twenty. How times does fly. She should have been married long ago. I should have grandchildren to comfort my old age. But tragedy has kept the poor girl unwed this long. Albert died just when she ought to have been making her come-out, and since then my health has been too fragile to enable me to endure a Season in London. Then, just when I thought that perhaps I was recovering enough strength to do what was right for both Constance and Chastity, Hallmere suffered his heart seizure and died. Now I do not know when my dear girls can be expected to settle in life. And as for Prudence . . ." She sighed piteously.

There was a rather lengthy pause during which Joshua knew exactly what was coming, though he was powerless to prevent it.

"It is time you considered marriage, Joshua," she said. "You are eight and twenty, and you are Hallmere now. It is your duty to produce a male heir for Penhallow. And it is your duty to provide for your cousins since you are their legal guardian-except for Constance, of course, who is of age and has come into her portion. It is time you put behind you these years when you have been sowing your wild oats, as the vulgar phrase would have it. I do not begrudge you that time or that wildness, Joshua, though Albert never showed any inclination to desert his home or his father or his sisters-or his mother. But I beg you now to remember your duty. And I beg you too not to resent this gentle reminder from the aunt who has loved you and nurtured you all your life."

"Except for the first six years, Aunt," he said quietly but firmly, "when my mother and father were still alive."

"May God rest their souls," she said. "Do you have a possible bride in mind?"

"I do not," he said. "But I will inform you as soon as I am betrothed, Aunt. It will be some considerable time in the future. And I have exercised my guardianship over Chastity and Prue-I have left them undisturbed at Penhallow with you. Constance too."

"I know you love them, dear Joshua." She regarded him with sad, fond eyes-until they lit up, apparently with a sudden idea. "How absolutely delightful it would be if you were to conceive a tendre for Constance. It would not be at all surprising. She is a sensible, dutiful girl, and she is in good looks, is she not? She has always been fond of you-and you of her, I remember. How perfectly . . . right it would be for you to marry the sister of your wards. I cannot imagine why I have not thought of this before now."