Quarrels & Quills – by Olivia Huxley #2
He remembered the first time he’d become aware of her maturity and physical appeal. It was his third year of university. He was twenty and Augusta sixteen. Knox had not visited Woodbury Manor since the previous spring, some six months prior.
He and George were in the foyer, handing off their greatcoats to the footmen when he heard a voice on the stairs.
“George! I didn’t know you’d arrived. Mama and Papa will be so pleased to see you.”
Knox turned to greet Augusta, his smile falling slack as she descended the last few steps.
He’d never seen her with her hair up before; it emphasized her graceful neck and the fine-boned features in her heart-shaped face.
The gown she wore was cut to her advantage, with a neckline that displayed more pale creamy skin than was appropriate for him to acknowledge.
She took his breath away, and for a moment he foundered, unable to scrape together a coherent thought, save one: she is George’s sister, and off limits.
He composed himself as she finished greeting George and turned to him, her deep blue eyes rimmed by long dark lashes.
“Hello, Knox.” Her greeting was soft.
“If it isn’t little Gus!” he said, a mite too heartily. “You’re looking well.”
Augusta winced. “I’m only little to you because you’re a giant oaf.”
Her obvious annoyance with him made it easier to be around her, and he had fallen into the habit of needling her to maintain critical distance.
Over the last five years, his visits to Woodbury Manor became more sporadic.
But he saw George often in London, and he still enjoyed a trip home with him whenever he could manage the time away from the family business.
While the shipping company was now even more profitable than it had been before Knox had taken on some duties from his father, that meant that his ability to leave London was curtailed.
He’d looked forward to this house party, both as a way of reconnecting with George and as a break from the work that always awaited him. That was before he discovered the reason for the party: to match Augusta with a matrimonial partner.
It might have been easier to stomach had he and George been able to avoid most activities and find other pursuits.
But George, a member of the House of Commons, had a bill for which he was seeking support, and several other members were also present at the party, thereby requiring George to fraternize with them so that he might plead his case.
Which left Knox the job of entertaining the attendees and putting the parliamentary members into an agreeable mindset.
Donning a devil-may-care attitude, Knox worked to charm and distract them all.
He participated in the games and other activities, showing himself competent yet not too competitive, striking a balance that would win him admiration and approval of the other men while allowing them to prevail enough to be amenable to George’s proposal.
After two days of nonstop efforts to enthrall as several men were peacocking to try to gain Augusta’s attention, Knox was exhausted and exasperated. However, when he’d retired to his guest chamber, sleep would not come, so he’d donned a banyan over his trousers and gone to look for a book.
The fire in the library had been banked for the evening. Knox stirred the embers and added more fuel, reviving the flames. He lit a candle and scanned the shelves for something to read. As he passed the chairs by the windows, he noticed a volume lying on a table.
Picking it up, he read the title: Empire’s Nature . Carrying it over to one of the scarlet-upholstered wingback chairs facing the fire, he settled in and opened the cover. A folded sheet lay inside, and he opened it, idly wondering what he’d find.
Dear Sir,
You are arrogant, conceited, and full of yourself.
Knox couldn’t help grinning. Those all amounted to the same thing, but someone certainly had their dander up, judging by the pique displayed. A woman, he’d guess, since it was far more likely a woman would wish to take such a man to task.
I firmly believe all the attention lavished upon you has served only to further inflate your sense of self-worth, not to mention your head.
These sounded like the kinds of barbs Augusta enjoyed flinging his way.
How he reveled in getting a rise out of her.
Whenever she was vexed, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkled, and her full breasts heaved delightfully with frustration.
He always tried to ignore the latter, particularly if George was nearby.
He often failed and found himself taking surreptitious glances.
What you need is a woman who won’t simper before you. Someone who will cut you down to size and keep you grounded.
You will doubtless marry some young lady with more beauty than brains, more wealth than wit, one who will neither challenge you nor hold you accountable.
When you do, it is my dearest wish that you understand your folly—that you realize you could have found true companionship and joy, had you the courage to pursue it.
Instead, you took what was so easily presented to you, with little effort on your part. Rather than an equal who would be a partner and a balm, you’ll have the kind of soulless societal marriage that is already abundant.
It would serve you right, you arrogant
The letter ended there, and he wondered if the writer was interrupted or had simply said everything she wished to say. He tucked it back into the book and stared into the flames, considering its warnings.
Such an outcome might be his lot in life, if he wasn’t discerning in decisions about his personal life.
He might be in trade and an undesirable partner to some aristocratic families.
However, he came from a prosperous family and was wealthy in his own right, and he knew that many parents would be overjoyed to marry their daughters off to him.
It would be a simple thing for him to choose one, marry her, father children, and serve out the rest of his life in a marriage founded upon mutual benefit.
That wasn’t what he wanted. Hell, he hadn’t even been certain he wished to marry at all, having seen too many marriages that disintegrated into contempt.
He didn’t care about marrying into an aristocratic family, nor did he need the money or property that would be offered by some as dowries.
He could purchase his own land if he desired an estate; none was worth marrying the wrong person.
His own parents, though, had a closeness that he envied, and he’d seen the same kind of intimacy on occasion from the Woodburys, so he knew that marriage could be far more enriching. The merits of such a relationship were becoming increasingly enticing the further into his twenties he advanced.
Knox stilled at a sound, the soft snick of the door to the library closing.
He listened intently, unable to hear the footfalls across the carpeted floor but knowing that someone was moving into the room by the bobbing of candlelight.
Why were they being so quiet in a room they thought empty?
Were they perhaps meeting someone clandestinely?
He shook his head at himself. So what if they were? Why was he hiding? There was nothing wrong with a man of five and twenty, a proper guest, visiting the library late at night.
Setting the book down as he rose from the chair, he turned to see Augusta, a peach dressing gown belted at her waist, standing by the library windows. A few moments passed before her head came up, a prey animal scenting a predator. She spun to face him.
“Knox!” Her hand flew up to rest between her ample breasts. “What are you doing here?” Her eyes moved to where his banyan gaped at the neck before darting back to his face.
He shrugged, biting back a smile. “Couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d try reading for a bit. Why are you here?”
She shoved her shoulders back, which only served to emphasize her magnificent chest. He felt rather noble, only allowing himself the briefest glance, even though she likely couldn’t see his face with the fire behind him.
“I live here. I can be in this library if I wish.” The stubborn set of her jaw and her pointed little chin only made him want to tease her.
“Are you having a midnight rendezvous with a lover?” he asked, relishing her sharp gasp.
“Knox St. Claire, you are a reprobate! I was…looking for this book.” She grabbed a volume off the nearest shelf and brandished it.
“Your choice of reading material is Modern Methods for the Modern Farmer ?”
She narrowed her eyes at his challenging tone. “Yes. I’ve been desperate to read it.”
He tilted his head at her. “You’d like to learn about using manure to obtain more fertile crops?”
“I like to learn many things.”
With that parting shot, she whirled away from him and marched back across the library, head held high as Knox chuckled. Quietness no longer an issue, she slammed the door shut behind her, and he laughed outright.
His attention was drawn back to the table by the windows. She may have been searching for a book, but it wasn’t the one on crop rotation and modern farming methods. She was looking for the one with the letter.
He’d bet anything she was the author of that note. He wondered if she would respond were he to answer it.
Augusta’s heart pounded as she hurried up the stairs to her bedchamber, clutching her candlestick in one hand and the book in the other. That had been a narrow escape.
Knox had no way of knowing why she’d been in the library, even if he hadn’t been convinced by her choice of late night reading material. She stared down at the title in annoyance.
She wasn’t interested in modern farming at all, but now she must read the dreaded thing. Knowing Knox, he’d quiz her about its contents. The horrid man!
He couldn’t allow her to answer vaguely and retreat with a modicum of decorum. As usual, he was butting his attractively chiseled nose in where it didn’t belong, purely to irritate her.