Hardly A Gentleman Read online

  Cynthia pursed her lips. Jacob’s words to her cousin were decidedly flirtatious, and she did not appreciate it. Not one bit. “And what of my hair, Mr. Billingsley? Does it fail to inspire?”

  “Of course not, Miss Prescott! Your hair is so light and bright, it rivals sunshine.”

  “You are too kind.” Cynthia could feel herself blushing, so she quickly looked away, feigning interest in the window. A sparrow sat beside the pane, lightly tapping the glass with his narrow beak.

  “Jacob was reading a bit of Robinson Crusoe… one of my favorites, I daresay,” Lydia told them. “I invite you both to stay and listen.”

  After flashing another smile at Margaret, Jacob turned his attention back to his book and read aloud: “I found him by his blood staining the water, and by the help of a rope, which I slung around him…”

  Cynthia’s attention immediately expired, at which time she turned to her cousin and whispered, “isn’t he handsome?”

  “I… suppose,” Margaret was loath to admit. “But he is very young. I prefer my men somewhat older and much more mature.”

  “But he hardly lacks maturity!” Cynthia continued in a whisper, so as not to interfere with Jacob’s reading. “Did you know he visits Grandmama nearly every day? And he receives no compensation whatsoever. What do you think compels him toward such an act of charity?”

  Margaret answered with an indolent shrug. “I could not possibly render a guess.”

  “Whatever his reason may be, it is an exceedingly honorable thing to do.” As Cynthia watched his lips move, she sighed dreamily. “I adore him!”

  “He is below your station, is he not?” As soon as the words were out of Margaret’s mouth, Cynthia glowered at her. “I do not mean to upset you. I am only being realistic. Your family is quite well-to-do, and the match would very likely be frowned upon.”

  “I care not! I don’t want to be leg-shackled to some soulless, priggish lord. It is more important to find someone who excites you.” Cynthia clasped a hand over her heart, as if the thought of being Mrs. Jacob Billingsley was more than she could bear. “Mr. Billingsley could be that man.”

  “As I said, he is very young. Would marriage be his desire?”

  “He might be young, but so am I. If he thinks we’re too young to marry, I will offer him some encouragement.”

  “Whatever do you mean, Cynthia?”

  Cynthia did not give her a reply; she was too enthralled by the sight of her paramour to spare another thought for her cousin.

  After Jacob finished reading, Lydia suggested a turn around the garden, and Cynthia could not fly from her seat quickly enough. Any excuse to spend more time with Mr. Billingsley was a good one, especially when their time together was so limited. Jacob pushed Lydia’s Bath chair through the hallway and into the garden, where the girls’ grandmother closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

  “I visit the garden too infrequently. I can scarcely remember the last time I enjoyed a bit of fresh air.” As she spoke, Lydia smiled at her granddaughters, who stood on either side of her chair. “And it isn’t often that I get to enjoy such splendid company!”

  “It is a shame I only see you once a year,” Margaret said with a sigh. “I hope you are not too lonely?”

  “How could Grandmama be lonely when she has Mr. Billingsley to look after her?” Cynthia asked. “Does he not visit you nearly every day?”

  “Indeed. I am fortunate to have him in my life.”

  “I am the fortunate one,” protested the young man, who carefully steered her chair down the cobbled garden path.

  “He is being kind, but truly, I have no idea why this lovely young man chooses to waste his time with this very old woman.”

  “You are not old, Grandmama! You are still quite young!” Margaret’s words earned her a disapproving look from her cousin, whose nose was wrinkled quite unprettily.

  “Why do you fill her head with such nonsense?” Cynthia hissed in her cousin’s ear. “She is ancient!”

  When Jacob and Lydia were a bit further along the path, Margaret spun in Cynthia’s direction and said, “In a half a century, you will be ancient… but I doubt you will consider yourself so! No one wants to think they are old. Have a care, Cynthia! You were not speaking softly. What if she overheard you?”

  “Or worse yet…” Cynthia seized her cousin’s arm and squeezed. “What if Mr. Billingsley overheard me? I would not want him to think I was being cruel to her! Oh dear…” After a moment’s hesitation, Cynthia plucked a nearby flower before chasing after Lydia. “Grandmama?”

  If Lydia’s smile was any indication, she had not heard what her granddaughter said. “Yes, dear?”

  “Your hair is very lovely. I have always thought so. It is quite the same shade as mine, but a bit darker, perhaps. Richer.” Cynthia slipped the plucked flower into her grandmother’s golden locks. “Now there is a daisy in your hair! Isn’t it very fetching, Mr. Billingsley?”

  “Very much so. And Miss Prescott… your hair is very much the same as Mrs. Stapleton’s,” Jacob agreed, then he reached behind Cynthia and plucked a similar daisy. With a grin on his lips, he slipped the flower into Cynthia’s hair. “There. Now you are a perfect match!”

  Dappled rouge flooded the young woman’s cheeks. Cynthia could feel her heart throbbing violently when Jacob stood so close to her, slyly toying with her hair. She wanted him even closer. Cynthia wrestled with an undeniable urge to have his arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly.

  Margaret, as she observed the scene, was afflicted by the most peculiar pang of jealousy. She very much preferred it when Jacob Billingsley was smiling at her. She carried her jealousy in her heart for the remainder of the day, and when Cynthia bid her goodnight, she did not utter a single word to her lovestruck cousin.

  The very next day, Margaret chose to break her fast in solitude. She slathered more jam onto her bread than usual, and she stayed in her bed until nearly noon. Margaret hated to be a slugabed, and yet she did not possess the willpower to rise any sooner. She was plagued by thoughts of daisies and a particular fair-haired young man. If Cynthia was the type of young lady he preferred, Margaret was determined to think of him as a gentleman of very poor taste.

  Margaret tried to banish her cousin from her mind; she was, after all, more interested in spending time with her sweet grandmama. Lydia was the reason she traveled to Devonshire—not Cynthia, and certainly not Jacob Billingsley!

  When she finally left her bedchamber, Margaret went to the drawing room in search of her grandmother. However, Lydia was not in the drawing room—Cynthia and Jacob were. Margaret’s cousin was sitting beside him on the settee, lightly kissing Jacob’s lips.

  “Cynthia!” Margaret shrieked her cousin’s name. “What on earth are you—”

  “Oh dear…” Cynthia leapt from the settee and ran to Margaret’s side. In an instant, all traces of color had drained from Cynthia’s rosy cheeks. “I pray you… please do not breathe a word of this to our grandmother!”

  “You were alone with him… kissing him?” Margaret shook her head with disgust. “These are not the actions of a lady, Cynthia!”

  “I am aware of that, Maggie!” Cynthia was whimpering now. “Please, please do not utter a word of this. You won’t, will you? You are my friend, are you not?”

  “And you.” Margaret turned her fury on Mr. Billingsley. “A truly good man does not take advantage of a young lady! I had doubted you were a gentleman, and now I know you are not!”

  “Miss Berryton, I—” Jacob tried to speak in his defense, but he was interrupted.

  “I’ll not breathe a word of this to Lydia, but know this: I am utterly and thoroughly disappointed in both of you! And I am sure Grandmother would be disappointed in you as well!”

  “You are being unfair! It was only a kiss!” Cynthia wailed. When Margaret tried to flee, she took her cousin by the arm and exclaimed, “Your jealousy is so transparent!”

  “Jealous? Of you? Of… of him?” Margaret turned up he
r nose at the idea. “Do not say such ludicrous things, Cynthia!”

  “I cannot think of another reason why you would be so appalled by my behavior! No one wants to spend time with you. No one cares to kiss you. You are cold and joyless and so very, very rigid!”

  Cynthia’s shrieks were piercing Margaret’s ears, so she pulled her arm from her cousin’s grasp and turned away from her, sighing. “If you want this secret to remain between us, I would be careful not to insult me. After all, I could very well change my mind!”

  “Miss Berryton…” Jacob rose from the settee as he attempted to address her again. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

  “I would rather take my leave,” Margaret said. “I assure you, I will say nothing to Lydia, Mr. Billingsley…” Her golden eyes flashed with rage as she stared at the young man. “I know my grandmother adores you, and I would not wish to disappoint her, so I will still my tongue. But I see you for what you really are, and if you take advantage of Cynthia again… next time, I may not be so kind.”

  “What a petulant spoilsport she is!” Cynthia murmured under her breath. When Margaret was further down the hall, she said to Jacob, “For all that she carried on, you would think I was throwing my chastity to the wind! Thank goodness she leaves tomorrow! I cannot tolerate her company for another day!”

  Jacob Billingsley lowered his eyes to the floor and expelled a sigh that seemed to go on forever.

  Chapter Three

  Nineteen

  “Forgive me, my dear, but you seem a bit…” Lydia’s voice trailed off as she carefully considered the politest possible word. She did not, after all, want to offend her granddaughter in any way. “Are you feeling a bit blue-deviled?”

  Margaret’s telltale sigh was the only answer her grandmother required. “Do you remember Lord Malforth?”

  “I have some vague recollection of the name.” Lydia donned her spectacles and narrowed her eyes. Her eyesight had only worsened over the years; she could barely see her granddaughter’s lovely face. She feared there would come a day when she would not see her at all.

  “I’m quite certain I’ve mentioned him before, once or twice. I met him two years ago, at the very first ball I ever attended.”

  “Ah! I believe I do remember now! As I recall, your mother disapproved of his age.”

  “Well, Mama’s worries are officially at an end. Lord Malforth is now engaged…” Margaret winced as she finished her thought, “to another.”

  “And this man… you cared for him?” When Margaret nodded, her grandmother gently squeezed her hand. “Oh, Maggie, I am so very sorry! Such affairs of the heart can leave one feeling utterly shattered.”

  “I cared for him, but I did not love him, so it is not as if I claim to have a broken heart. Nevertheless…” Lydia offered her a biscuit, which Margaret accepted with a forced smile. “I would be lying if I said I did not feel the sting of his rejection. Lord Malforth had been dancing attendance on me for some time. As attentive as he was, I was certain I had his favor. Now it is painstakingly obvious the viscount was also courting another.”

  “I wish there was something I could say to ease your disappointment, but only time might heal such an ache,” Lydia claimed. “I wish Cynthia could have joined us this year. It is so unfortunate that she cannot.”

  “Mm.” Margaret answered with an indiscernible grunt, for she did not share her grandmother’s opinion. After last year, she was not hoping to encounter her cousin any time soon.

  “Cynthia might know how to console you. I fear my advice might be inadequate. Courtship was a bit different when I was your age.”

  “In what way?”

  “To begin with, my marriage to your grandfather was arranged.” When she saw Margaret’s eyes light up with shock, she laughed. “You did not know?”

  “No! I was never told!”

  “We grew to love one another,” Lydia said. “On the day he died, there was no one I had ever loved more. I don’t envy you, Maggie, or the young ladies who must endure the marriage mart of today. I am quite certain I would have ended up a spinster, as timid as I was. And if you choose your own mate, your happiness is hardly guaranteed.”

  “I am sure you are correct, Grandmama.” Margaret was pouting now. “I am sure I shall be a spinster… some day.”

  “As pretty as you are? Perish the thought!” Lydia pulled a shawl over her lap and said, “I anticipate some visitors. I am sure they shall arrive any moment.”

  “Not Mr. Billingsley, I hope?”

  “Indeed… Mr. Billingsley is one of them.” Lydia’s lips were pulled into a frown just as Margaret’s nose was wrinkled with disgust. “Do you dislike him, dear?”

  “He…” Margaret could not bring herself to disparage her grandmother’s favorite person, not when Lydia looked so disappointed. “He is… decent.”

  “When I invited him here today, Jacob wondered if he should stay away. Is there a reason why you do not like the young man?”

  “I have no issue with Mr. Billingsley,” Margaret lied. “He is… pleasant enough company.”

  Margaret felt like an actor in a play, as blatant as the falsehood was. And when Jacob Billingsley entered the drawing room with an older gentleman at his side, Margaret’s performance was even more impressive. She actually managed a smile.

  The older gentleman was roughly the same age as her grandmother, though his hair had not fared quite as well. It was entirely gray, and his tanned face was twice as weathered as Lydia’s. As for Jacob, he put Margaret in mind of a vagabond, likely because he had not shaved his face in several days. The slight beard made him look a bit older. He certainly looked older than Margaret, even though he was not. Had she not known otherwise, she would have thought he was seven and twenty, not seventeen. Margaret still remembered the boy of fifteen she had encountered two years ago—but she could scarcely see him in Jacob Billingsley’s maturing face.

  “Margaret…” Lydia spoke. When the older gentleman was standing at her side, she looked up at him adoringly. “This is Henry Calder, a very dear friend of mine.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, young lady,” the gentleman said with a bow. “Your grandmother speaks very highly of you, and I see she was not mistaken. You are, indeed, a very lovely girl.”

  “How kind of you, Mr. Calder. I hope I shall never disappoint you.” When Margaret forced her gaze on Jacob, her smile struggled to stay on her lips. “Mr. Billingsley, it is very good to see you again. Very good indeed.”

  “I—” Jacob looked perplexed, and his confusion temporarily tied his tongue. “It… it is a pleasure to see you as well.”

  “Mr. Calder.” When Margaret turned her attention back to the older gentleman, she could feel the tension leaving her shoulders. She did not care to hold Mr. Billingsley’s gaze longer than necessary. “Have you and my grandmother been acquainted for very long?”

  “Indeed. In our youth, we were very close,” Henry Calder explained. “Unfortunately, we lost contact for many years, and only recently reunited.”

  Margaret immediately suspected he was once a jilted suitor of her grandmother. She could not imagine contacting Lord Malforth again, not after the disappointment she suffered at his hands.

  “She was absent from my life for several decades,” Mr. Calder continued, “and yet my adoration of her never faded.”

  Margaret smiled and said, “That is a very lovely thought.”

  “I believe time has very little effect on one’s emotions,” Mr. Billingsley mused. “If anything, the passage of time makes you remember a person more fondly. It makes you long for their company.”

  Margaret could feel the younger man’s eyes on her, but she did not dare to look in his direction, not when she could feel her pulse thumping in her neck. Why did she allow him to have any effect on her whatsoever? Surely he was unworthy of her racing heart!

  “I agree wholeheartedly,” Mr. Calder said. “And now I shall treasure every moment with Lydia. Every moment is precious.”

&n
bsp; The older gentleman sat on the settee beside Lydia’s Bath chair and lovingly took her hand. At the very same moment, Jacob closed the distance between Margaret and himself. Leaning closer to her, he whispered, “I must apologize. Will you afford me an opportunity to explain what happened last year?”

  Margaret watched her grandmother for several seconds, worried she would overhear her conversation with Mr. Billingsley. Fortunately, Henry Calder had Lydia’s full attention. “You needn’t bother. So much time has passed.” Under her breath, she added, “And my good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.”

  “Pardon?”

  “It is a quote, Mr. Billingsley, from my favorite novel. Pride and Prejudice. You should read it to my grandmother, as I am sure she would enjoy it immensely. You, however, are not likely to appreciate the nuance of it.”

  “Dare I ask… why is that?”

  “Well…” Margaret sat straight in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. “To begin with, I am certain you would fail to grasp that it was Wickham’s caddish behavior that nearly ruined poor Lydia Bennett.”

  Margaret’s words made the young man flinch. His eyelashes fluttered slightly, as if someone had punched his gut. “I do not want to discredit your cousin in any way, but—” He, too, glanced in Lydia’s direction. Like Margaret, he did not want any portion of their conversation to be overheard. “We were alone because Miss Prescott insisted on it, and the kiss was not my choice.”

  “Do you expect me to care, Mr. Billingsley?” She thought he looked hurt, so she added, “I apologize for my rudeness, but as I said, it was such a long time ago. My mind is now consumed by more recent disappointments.”

  Jacob hoisted a blonde eyebrow. “Is that so?”

  “Indeed. Why should I spare a thought for you and Cynthia when my recent disappointment at the hands of Lord Malforth is far worse?” Before he could ask for an explanation, she added, “You needn’t know the details. It is only worth telling you that I have foresworn men forever.”