First to Fall: A Friends to Lovers Historical Romance (Bartholomew series Book 1) Read online

  I didn’t know. And it was going to give me hives.

  My mother cleared her throat delicately. “Did you hear about the Viscountess Westbrooke?”

  Lady Northcutt’s brows furrowed as she was forced to reply in the negative. “I’m afraid I did not.”

  One point to Mother.

  “Well, she was quite proud of herself for adding to her collection. She recently acquired a new landscape by M. Barton.” My mother’s statement was met with murmurs of approval and interest around the table.

  Anticipating forthcoming gossip, Lady Northcutt leaned forward. “Is that so?”

  “Quite,” replied Mother. “She was indulging in a bit of sherry at our last gathering and admitted she paid over nine hundred pounds for it.”

  M. Barton was a notable painter in the London art scene. Part of the appeal was the novelty of the artist. His work was outstanding to be sure, but it was the secrecy involving his fame and artistry that made the lords and ladies of the ton clamor for a commission.

  “That’s ridiculous. What a waste,” came my brother’s slurred response. No one paid him any mind.

  Emery mumbled something under her breath.

  And Lord Northcutt was nodding awkwardly, eyes glued to his salmon in white sauce. Odd.

  In a very obvious effort to change the subject, Lord Northcutt began, “So, Augustus, are you looking forward to being home for the summer?”

  I focused my attention on her father, but before I could respond, Emery spoke ahead of me, smiling brightly. “Of course he’s happy to be home. He’s spending the summer with me.”

  The marquess snorted at his middle daughter. “What kind of trouble has she cooked up for you this time, m’boy? Remember that time we found you waltzing in slippers just because Emery wanted a dancing partner and had demanded to lead?” He chuckled good-naturedly.

  My stone-faced response aimed at Emery clearly said, No one remembers, my ass.

  Her answering eye roll said she didn’t care.

  Both of us were on the verge of smiling. Hopefully someone would introduce a new topic before either one of us succumbed to our mirth.

  Unfortunately it was my inebriated brother who spoke. “It won’t matter what scheme or summer plan Lady Emery has for Augustus, he’ll need to focus on his future and make a decision while he’s here.”

  I cleared my throat uneasily as my brother’s statement blanketed the room in awkward silence.

  My mother attempted to soothe the tension and my brother’s ruffled feathers, but unfortunately accomplished neither. “Have you considered which path you’d like to pursue, Augustus? The clergy? Or perhaps the military?”

  One glance at Emery hurried my response. Nostrils flaring and fists white-knuckled on the table, she was preparing to defend my honor. With a tight smile for my mother, I rushed out, “No, Mother. I’m afraid I haven’t yet decided.”

  My brother set his goblet down with a thunk on the oak surface, sloshing wine over the recently refilled brim. Was that his seventh glass? No, eighth. I watched the dark liquid seep into the bright tablecloth as John took up his familiar position. “Everyone has a purpose in life, little brother. I have responsibilities to the dukedom. I’m Father’s heir and working damn hard to make sure our legacy endures.” Debatable. “Second sons have expectations as well. And the longer you avoid doing your duty to this family, the more of an embarrassment you become.”

  I wasn’t predisposed to rage. It took quite a lot to rouse me to anger. And this was an old argument. John had been the Duke of Kendrick for over ten years, following the death of our father. I’d been getting some version of this little speech every time I was in his presence for ages now. But he rarely spoke to me in public this way. He was truly beyond his threshold for alcohol intake. My banked fury was causing a warm flush beneath my cravat.

  My mother looked pained at the airing of our dirty bedlinens. She had a firm sense of responsibility and often pressured me to uphold my familial duties, but she loved me. And as any aristocratic lady, she eschewed scandal directed at her family. While this was verging on a public embarrassment for my mother, it undoubtedly rankled that the Bartholomews were witness to our internal squabbling. Despite the theatrics taking place at the dinner table, Lady Northcutt nor anyone else appeared pleased by the spectacle.

  I made the mistake of looking to Emery. I could read the fury there as well as panic at the thought of my unhappiness at being forced into a future I didn’t want. Her wide eyes and visible distress only spelled disaster. Then I watched a change come over her. My friend’s fear and anger morphed into resolve and I knew what was coming.

  I shook my head minutely, but she refused to acknowledge my silent plea. My brother was drunk. He didn’t require a response. He merely wished to hear himself speak. And he definitely didn’t need the reaction he was about to get from Emery. But her amber eyes were lit with a spark of indignation on my behalf. I knew there was no stopping her now.

  Propping my elbow on the table, I rested my chin in my hand and waited for the words I knew were coming.

  Emery straightened in her seat, wiped her mouth free of mint jelly with her cloth napkin, and then shocked the room into stunned silence with her next words. Well, shocked everyone save me. I knew Emery better than anyone; I had seen this runaway train derail from a mile away. “Augie won’t need to fret over whether to join the clergy or the military, Your Grace. His future is rather handled. Because he’ll soon be marrying me.”

  Two

  EMERY

  Complete and utter silence met my pronouncement.

  One would assume that declarations of marriage would be met with felicitations. At the very least a gasp of excitement or some sign of having heard such joyous news spoken aloud. Well, perhaps that was how it worked in polite company. Unfortunately for Augie and myself, we were trapped in the dining hall of misfortune and disaster.

  Sitting straight in my chair, I noticed that all eyes were on me. Well, almost all eyes. Augie had his head in his hand across the table, brown curls on full display. I knew we hadn’t fully discussed this plan, and he wasn’t completely on board. At least not just yet. But Augie always came around. He would eventually see my way of thinking … after days of internal fretting followed by list making to evaluate the advantages and disadvantages. And then another day of agonizing. I was merely speeding up the process.

  While my methods could often be seen as high-handed and occasionally manipulative, I always meant well. And in this particular instance, I could not stand by and watch Augie suffer under the scrutiny of his family. His brother, the Duke of Kendrick, demeaning him and criticizing him whenever he got the chance made my blood boil. Augie was the best man—the best person—I knew. He didn’t deserve his wastrel brother trying to force his hand. The fact that that drunkard held any sway over my Augie was unacceptable.

  Augustus Ward held the courtesy title of Earl Barrington. By all accounts save birth order, Augie deserved to be his father’s heir. Augie loved his family home and their adjoining lands. He wanted to honor his father’s legacy and use his vast knowledge to support and enhance the estate his brother was neglecting. Life was not fair, I knew this. But it still burned that my dearest friend was treated this way.

  I wasn’t going to sit here one more second while my friend was condescended to. I had been gripped with panic at witnessing Augustus’s easy acceptance. He seemed resigned to his future and that hopelessness more than anything spurred me into action. And then John had kept talking. It was too late by then.

  When you’re a woman, sometimes the only thing you have to offer is your hand.

  Perhaps someone could muster up a smile for our good news.

  Another glance at Augie. No help there unfortunately. I’d have to bluster through on my own.

  Mama and Father stared incredulously. The dowager duchess and her son, the duke, seemed equally perplexed. Perhaps no smiling, then.

  I met their gazes steadily and with confidence. Twenty-five percent of making a point was to stand by and support your convictions. The other seventy-five percent was merely appearing to do so.

  I could do this. I would do this.

  For Augie.

  I looked once more to my friend. His head had finally come up, chin resting in his palm, elbow propped on the table. Augustus looked more grown up and handsome than I’d ever seen him. Blue eyes glowing … with fury? At me, probably. Had his shoulders always been so broad, his jaw so defined and masculine?

  Augie arched an eyebrow imperiously high as if to say, What now, Emery? How are you getting out of this one?

  Hadn’t Augie learned in twenty years of friendship? I could get out of anything.

  Emboldened by his challenge, I raised my chin in defiance. That got an eye roll out of him. And thank God for that. Augustus needed a spark, especially now when his family sucked all the good feelings from the room. I hated seeing my oldest friend lifeless in the presence of his overbearing brother. If my actions could jolt him out of whatever bored acceptance he’d resigned himself to … well, I’d call that a win.

  Now, to speed dinner along so Augustus and I could escape and strategize in private.

  I took that eye roll and gave him a little wink in return, but before I could address the room at large with engagement details completely invented on the spot, Augie’s brother started to laugh.

  And not a good laugh.

  Augustus straightened out of his slouch, and we all turned to the duke as his cold, hard amusement penetrated the fog my announcement had settled over our group.

  Wiping tears of mirth away from his eyes, John Ward, the Duke of Kendrick, guffawed. “You expect us to believe that the two of you are going to m-m-marry!?” He made a show of slapping his hand on the table thre
e times. “Do you take me for an imbecile? Although … even marriage to her would be preferable to the military, I suppose.”

  Even marriage to her … I gasped in outrage.

  “Now just a moment,” Augie began as my father’s eyes hardened.

  But it was the dowager who looked to her elder son with a rigid expression. “That’s quite enough.”

  “Seriously, Mother,” John slurred. “Augustus is attempting to shirk his responsibilities to his family by—by arranging some scheme with this chit.” His hand flung accusingly in my direction and toppled his seventh—no, eighth—glass of wine. Liquid seeped across the table linens and servants sprang into action.

  John stood, weaving slightly and finally braced himself on the back of his chair as footmen cleaned up his mess. The dowager stood, muttering apologies before turning to her recalcitrant son in a tone that brooked no argument. “We’re leaving. Now.”

  Shooting a deadly glare at Augustus, the Duke of Kendrick straightened away and quit the room leaving his mother to follow.

  If I’d thought the quiet following my engagement announcement profound, then the silence in the wake of their departure was downright hallowed.

  Unsure of his reaction, I looked to Augie, but his solemn face was unreadable.

  A Bartholomew/Ward Disaster Dinner had never ended quite like that.

  “Well,” my father said, snapping us from our shock. “Can someone pass the asparagus?”

  Later that evening, I prepared for bed.

  Well, I appeared to prepare for bed.

  Gansey bustled around my room as I brushed my riotous blond waves.

  “And then what happened?” My lady’s maid paused with my wrapper outstretched.

  I took the offered garment and met Gansey’s green eyes in the mirror before continuing to recount the evening. “And then Augie passed the asparagus and we continued the meal. No one said anything about the duke or the dowager. Mama and Father made polite innocuous conversation. I was quite proud of them.”

  Eyes wide in disbelief, Gansey bent to retrieve my slippers. Before turning for the wardrobe, she shook her head sadly. “Poor Lord Barrington. That brother of his …” She trailed off.

  Gansey had been with our household since she was very young. Just ten years my senior, she’d witnessed my friendship with Augie firsthand. She’d also borne witness to his brother’s mistreatment.

  “I know,” I lamented agreeably.

  Returning from the wardrobe, she took the brush from my hands. “Did you talk to Augustus following dinner? Sort out the engagement business?”

  Wincing as she brushed with far more determination than I’d shown, I replied, “No, Augie took his leave immediately following dinner. I think he needed some space.” I would in all likelihood see him later though.

  I needed to see for myself that he was well after the scene in the dining room. True, we did need to discuss our betrothal. After John’s outburst, I was even more determined to prove him wrong and see Augie protected and shielded from his family. But I needed to talk to Augustus. The way I’d announced things had been premature. If he wanted to call things off … he needed to know I would support him.

  I would try to talk him out of it, of course, but I wouldn’t force his agreement.

  Gansey hummed in thought. I winced again as she found a particularly tangled strand.

  “Oh hush, you tender-headed thing.”

  “Well, it hurts!” I whined.

  “Fine, then.” She smiled at me in the mirror and relinquished the hairbrush with dramatic flourish.

  I laughed and scooted over on the bench before my dressing table.

  Gansey took the invitation and sat down next to me. “When do you think you’ll have the wedding?”

  “I don’t know, Gansey. I don’t know if Augustus will even agree to go through with it.” My fingers moved back and forth over the coarse bristles in my hand.

  She looked surprised. “Of course he will.”

  “I mean, I know he would prefer to avoid the clergy or the military, but he has it in his head that he’d be taking advantage of my friendship. Or that he’d be selfish to accept my suit. I don’t know. It’s preposterous.” And it was. I had absolutely no desire to go to London and parade myself among the ton, pretending to be someone I was not. I wasn’t lying or attempting to appease Augie by telling him he’d be saving me as well. I didn’t want that life. I’d never fit in even if I tried.

  I loved living in the country. Waking early, riding every day, and living with the freedom to be myself. If I went to town for the season, I would be forced to manage all my time, restrain all my smiles, and forfeit all my freedom. All for what? The chance of meeting a man who would have those same expectations. I’d be sought after as a hostess and a broodmare. Those were not my goals. I had my life here. I had my … goals. And more importantly, I had some self-respect.

  I’d seen what an advantageous match could do to a woman. My thoughts turned bitter. My elder sister, Patricia, had made a fine match during her first season … to a duke old enough to be her grandfather. Patty had changed. It felt as if I’d lost my sister. She wasn’t the same person she’d once been. She’d turned into the perfect hostess, the perfect young wife, and the perfect duchess. But she wasn’t happy. I could tell. And now, widowed at six and twenty she was yet again someone unknown and unreachable.

  Augie had this ridiculous notion that should we marry, he would be preventing me from finding a love match. Were all men really so naïve? He meant well and I loved him for it. But he just didn’t realize how little autonomy women possessed, how little control we had over our own futures.

  And a ton marriage for a woman like me would be a shackle about the leg.

  “Is that what he told you?” Gansey inquired, bringing me back to our conversation. “That he didn’t want to be selfish?”

  “Yes.” I met her gaze in the mirror. “He thinks I’ll go to London this autumn and find a lord and fall in love. But if Augie marries me instead, he’ll be keeping me from my own happily ever after.”

  Gansey snorted. “The only way you’d be happy forever is with that boy by your side.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. No one made me as content as Augie. However, he didn’t resemble a boy so much anymore. The time and distance separating us these last months seemed to lend Augie a new and mysterious air. I recalled the muscles straining his coat, the sharp line of his jaw. He now had whiskers shading an angular face that used to be soft and rounded by youth.

  I could remember the feel of his lips against my hand when I’d quieted his objections before dinner, so firm and well formed. Had Augie’s lower lip always been that full and soft-looking?

  “I know. Our marriage would be advantageous for us both. I could maintain … my current lifestyle. And Augie could avoid his awful brother and the pressure from his family.” I could never continue with my life, the way it was now, as the wife of some bossy noble. A union with Augie would grant us both freedom, but he didn’t see it that way. He didn’t trust me to know my own mind. After a lifetime of friendship, Augie would always see his role as my protector—the stable one, the dependable one. While my ideas would always be questioned … because of empirical evidence, probably. I’d been irresponsible and reckless too long, and it was coming back to bite me now.

  With a confident smile on her lovely face, Gansey whispered into the quiet of my bedchamber, “I’ve always known you two would suit.”

  I startled and turned to face her head-on instead of her pleased reflection in the mirror. “You what?” I replied, overly loud.

  “Emery, who else were you ever going to marry? Of course it would be Augustus.” I could still feel the shock on my face as she continued. “Your friendship is special. You have to realize that. Relationships like yours and Augie’s aren’t common. Even over time and distance, you’ve maintained an easiness between you. You pick up right where you left off with every visit.”