Chapter Nine
The next morning, Augusta accompanied her brother at the breakfast table.
She had never been one for breakfast. She enjoyed a strong black tea alone in her room, where she could study in peace without fear of callers interrupting.
Today, though, she needed an opening for discussion. There was no better way to accost Reginald than when he was still groggy from sleep and had not yet finished his tea.
She had spent a better part of the night before thinking about her encounter in the park with Lord Brightwater.
It had been too much, all at once. It had been frightening.
She did not need to be frightened, not right now, and not by the likes of that man - the one who made her feel far too much when his thumb had merely grazed her lips.
It was obscene. No one ought to be allowed to feel things like that. And so, she overtook her brother that morning with complete clearness of mind and only one goal.
“Good morning,” he said when he saw her, clearly attempting to hide his surprise.
“Good morning,” she said back. He sat at the head of the table. As she took the seat to his left, gesturing for the maid to bring her a muffin with butter, she felt his eyes on her.
“To what should I owe your company?”
“I would like for you to call off your friend.” The direct approach, she’d decided, would be best for such a discussion.
Reginald looked down at his food, though his stiff shoulders betrayed his thoughts. “I will not.”
“I understand that you do not wish to upset him-”
“It is not that.” Setting down his fork, he looked over at her. “Auggie, I’d like you to consider him.”
“He has given me little choice these last few days but to consider him. My consideration has been thorough, and it has led me to conclude that Lord Brightwater and I would be dreadful together.”
She could see her brother attempt, and fail, to halt the rolling of his eyes. “And what makes you say that?”
She had anticipated such a question, and had come up with several answers.
“He is a man of art, and music, and culture. I admire those things, but I would never be able to participate in them, or even offer him decent conversation about them. He is a darling of the ton, and I am…not. Moreover, I am happy the way that I am. A husband is the last thing I need at this moment.”
“A husband is actually the only thing you need at this moment.”
Augusta blinked, stupefied by the sudden harshness in Reginald’s tone. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you are twenty and four, and I will not always be here to play the role of permissive older brother for you. You ought to think of precisely what you want out of life, Auggie.”
He might have slapped her, for all that she suddenly felt humiliated and angered at his words.
“Tread carefully, Reginald. I don’t believe you want to engage in a conversation on marriage with me with such a smug countenance.”
It was a warning that she so rarely gave him, but it had the desired effect. His cheeks pinkened, and he cleared his throat in discomfort.
“We are not talking about me, Auggie. My die has already been cast and come up short. You, however, have potential. I hate to see you squander it.”
It had never occurred to her that Reginald had, likely, had his own worries about her marriage prospects - or lack thereof.
She wondered how he felt right then, knowing that she had not been successful after so many years.
Did he feel any shame over her? Fear? Was that why he’d so quickly accepted Lord Brightwater’s attention toward her?
The idea sent a cold wave of gloom through her. Until now, her brother had never spoken to her in a way that led her to believe herself lesser in his estimation due to her lack of marriage prospects. In her comfort with her status, she had assumed his comfort as well.
It seemed foolish, in hindsight. Of course he’d want her married. Of course he’d want her protected and spoken for and, perhaps most importantly, out of his home for good. And yet, he’d only ever allowed her to make that choice for herself.
Perhaps…perhaps she owed it to him to try, however little.
She did not have to encourage Lord Brightwater’s attention, but neither did she need to rebuff them as thoroughly as she’d done at the musicale and after his touch in Hyde Park yesterday.
If this was a passing inclination on his part, then it would fizzle out on its own, and no party could say that she had been the cause.
If it was something more serious, then she would know her own mind enough to make a swift and just decision.
“I will acquiesce,” she said softly, then quickly added, “Somewhat. I daresay I could be more…open. Or…something.”
That was as far as she would deign. Reginald must have known it, because he gave a tacit nod of approval. Then, his expression softened. “You know I love you, Auggie. I think you’re brilliant, and witty, and you have so much to offer. I do not wish to see you waste it on a life spent alone.”
She shrugged and looked out the window, unable to meet his gaze. “You know how I am, Reginald. Alone suits me.”
“I don’t believe that that is true. I know better than anyone in the world that marriage is often wasted on those wholly undeserving of it.
” He paused, his face breaking into a look of pain for just a moment before he pressed on.
“But if something great can be created out of it all, then I believe it behooves you to try. And you, Auggie, could very well have something great.”
She told herself that he was only saying it to butter her up, as his words so deeply affected her that she had to hold back a sniffle, and such sentimentality simply would not do.
“Alright, alright,” she waved him away. “I will give more serious consideration to your friend, if you are so eager to be rid of me.”
Reginald straightened, attacking his breakfast with newfound gusto.“No matter who you marry, I assure you that you will never be rid of me. It would simply bring you too much joy, and I would never abide by that.”
*****
Perhaps because of their unhappy conversation at breakfast, Reginald had asked nothing of her affairs when Augusta called for the carriage that evening. She hadn’t even needed to use the lie that she had made up, which was that she was going to call on Ginny.
As she headed toward her actual destination, which was a small gathering near the University of London, she wondered what it might be like if someone were sitting in the carriage next to her. Someone who cared for her, who wanted to listen to her blather on about the finer details of her work.
Then, she banished that thought completely; even if she were to be so foolish as to marry Lord Brightwater, she would never be able to tell him her secrets. She would be as alone as ever in her endeavors.
When they pulled up to the hall, the driver - whom she had paid off handsomely all these years, and would continue to do so - dropped her off at the back, as was their usual custom.
Inside, the hall was largely darkened. This was fine by Augusta.
She had never been spotted at one of these events, but anything to help disguise her identity was greatly appreciated.
Over the years, she’d even become cautious as to who she was introduced to, so as not to let word get back to her brother.
Thankfully, these academic types were often so stuck in their work that they hardly took notice of her name.
As she always left her title out of it, little room had been left for word to get out.
Tonight she took a seat at the back of the lecture hall, encased by shadows as much as possible. Despite the dark, she knew precisely who slid into the seat next to her just before the speech began.
“Pinkton,” she said quietly in greeting, not bothering to look at the man.
“Browning,” he said in return. After a short pause, he said with faux casual airs, “You know, if things were different, you could be sitting right up front without shame.”
She rolled her eyes. Leave it to the man to bring up the topic within seconds of seeing her.
“I told you that I would consider the speech, and that is precisely what I am doing. Considering it. If you would like me to stop considering it, then please do press the matter.”
She did not need to look at him to know that he was smiling.
“We have your first house call with Lady Wallingford next week. I shall write to you the location and time to meet me. Be discreet.”
Augusta turned in her seat to look at him, wide-eyed. “You are joking. She is ready for us so soon?”
“I am quite as serious as I could be.”
She could hardly contain herself. However, before she could express the unmitigated glee she felt, the speaker walked up to center stage and addressed the audience, and everyone went quiet.
The speaker, if she was being honest, was terrible. Which was likely why her mind wandered so quickly to less academic topics. Namely, Lord Brightwater.
Only, that was not the only place her mind wandered to. No, she thought greatly of courtship as a whole, and her heretofore unhappy experiences with it.
Lord Grayson, an earl in his late thirties. He’d been kind to her early on, and she had found herself falling for him. Not foolishly, as she’d assumed true love would feel, but enough so that she’d been able to glimpse a happy future.
The man had run at the first spell of hers.
Granted, it had been a particularly bad one - several weeks of few words and bad company had been enough for his affection to disappear, along with all intentions of a proposal.
If she had been able to feel anything at the time, she would have been devastated.
Instead, she’d awoken from her spell just in time to witness the destruction it had left behind, and had to move onward as though nothing had occurred at all.
Her thoughts flitted to Lord Brightwater. To the way he had looked at her in the park yesterday with unmistakable heat in his eyes. With a fresh perspective, she saw him anew. Not as a person to be denied, but as a true potential suitor.
If, in fact, she did let him court her with any degree of seriousness, then there were a few obvious things to recommend him. He was handsome. Ladies always tittered when he was around.
Though her conversations with him had largely been against her will, she could admit even to herself that he had some eloquence.
A rare trait. There was never a long lull or uncomfortable silences.
He appeared somewhat permissive of his sister Georgiana, which could translate into him being permissive of a wife, as well.
That is, if his sudden, unexplainable affection for her could withstand the test of time.
Lord Grayson had liked a great many things about her figure and disposition, but it had not been enough to maintain his interest when things became difficult.
Lord Brightwater might have some starry-eyed notions regarding her, but how likely was it that they were true enough to last all the way to the altar?
In that vein, what could it hurt to let him show a little interest?
She had survived Lord Grayson’s disappearance from her life.
She could simply enjoy the attention Lord Brightwater now gave, and then wave it away when he inevitably rescinded said attention.
Everyone involved - herself, Brightwater, Reginald - could exit the situation without hurt feelings.
They could know that a courtship was attempted and merely fizzled out, as these things tended to do.
And that was all it had to be.
She tried to return her mind to the lecture, the topic of which she had already forgotten, hoping that her newfound resolution would offer her mind some clarity. But try as she might, she could not fight the sensation of Lord Brightwater’s hand against her mouth.