The Social Tutor: A Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 1) Page 6

  She nodded, again with a slow deliberateness that lent weight to his words. While he had some difficulty taking this exercise seriously, she certainly did not.

  Her dark eyes sought his, widening with an obvious eagerness to please. “Might you give me an example? I merely wish to clarify your instructions.” Indeed, her attitude now struck him as that of an apt pupil.

  “The vicar’s conversation the other evening will serve. I did not catch the whole of it, but I did hear part of his discourse on Divine authority given to kings.”

  “Yes.” She nodded, a frown drawing her eyebrows together and lips downward. The eager pupil vanished before his eyes and a serious young woman appeared instead. “Wasn’t that interesting? He agreed that the kingship given to Saul was taken away because he was unfit, but did not think that the colonists had the right to remove themselves from under King George’s reign because of divine right. Yet I would not agree that our king is an overly religious man. Saul’s kingship was revoked when he failed to obey a commandment, and I must say that I have heard enough gossip to believe our king might have done the same. The former colonists certainly believe so.”

  Thomas stared at her, eyebrows raised high, his responsibility suddenly taking on a greater weight. “This is going to be a lot of work,” he muttered, looking heavenward. Though her argument interested him, it would encourage her errant behavior to engage her in the same debate. He couldn’t encourage the behavior of a bluestocking.

  “What was that?” she asked, stepping closer to the brook.

  He shook his head. “Miss Christine, contradicting a vicar over a matter of religion is not at all in keeping with polite conversation.”

  “I thought religion was an acceptable topic of conversation?”

  Her confusion nearly made him groan aloud.

  “That is not entirely true. I believe the most acceptable form of conversation in terms of religion is more along the lines of discussing good works. Those done by you, as a lady, and the good works of others. You should never engage in a debate on religious topics, which is precisely what you did with the good Mr. Ames. While a gentleman, or a vicar, might be free to share his religious ideologies, it is left to a lady in your position to either smile politely and agree or smile politely and keep your opinions to yourself.”

  “Oh.” She bit her bottom lip, her eyebrows furrowed more deeply. “What should I have said?”

  He thought carefully, remembering the conversation he overheard and pitting that against what most young ladies might have remarked. “You likely should have smiled and thanked him for enlightening you. Then followed Miss Hannah’s example and asked after his other Christian endeavors. That would have flattered him, to believe you interested in his occupation.” Even as he instructed her, he found his mind going back to her opinions. They were clever and well thought out. But, sadly, they had no place in society while husband hunting.

  She nodded, still looking thoughtful, and squared her shoulders. “I should solicit the opinions of others, encourage them to share their thoughts on the subject, and agree with whatever a gentleman says?”

  “That would be a good start, yes,” he agreed slowly, trying to determine if there was anything amiss with that summary. “That would make most gentlemen inclined to favor you, I would think.”

  “Gentlemen like to be right, even when they are not,” she said, her lips twitching slightly. Her deep brown eyes narrowed again, though they sparkled enough that he realized she saw humor in the statement.

  He nearly groaned again but decided it was best to nod in his gravest manner. It was not at all a flattering truth, though it was the way of things in society. “Most believe they are always right. Yes.”

  “Excellent. I understand. That will have to suffice today. I am due to have an audience with my father at nine o’clock, so I must go if I am to be present in time.” She tilted her head to one side, regarding him with a narrow look. “Have you been invited to Miss Hannah’s home for dessert and games?”

  “I do believe my mother received such an invitation, yes. Will I see you there?”

  “Yes, and I will practice what you have taught me.” Miss Christine nodded firmly before going to her horse. She led the gelding to the same little rock she used as a mounting block the day before. She climbed atop with ease and offered him a smile and wave.

  “Good day to you, Thom—Mr. Gilbert.”

  “And to you, Miss Christine.” He nodded deeply, tipping his hat as well. “I will see you again soon.” And until then, he would try to work out how to teach her the things inherent to the rest of the females of society. He hoped, very sincerely, that he had not taken on a task too difficult to complete.

  Chapter Seven

  “Christine.” The two syllables of her name, the only greeting her father gave when she entered his study at precisely the appointed time, came out clipped and precise. “Sit.”

  She obeyed, walking as gracefully as possible to the chair directly across from his desk. Christine always did her best to be a dutiful and obedient daughter and her father detested an unladylike gait.

  “Your lists for purchases?”

  She held out the two sheets of paper prepared for this very interview. “The shorter list is for purchases to be made here, the longer are things Aunt Jacqueline wishes me to acquire in town. We estimated the costs, which are noted to the side.”

  He said not a word as he perused the inventory needed. After a few moments, he turned a page in an account book on his desk and made several notations, then held the lists back out to her. “This appears acceptable. Are you certain this will be adequate?”

  Christine swallowed and nodded. “Aunt Jacqueline was very specific. It is not too much?”

  Her father raised his eyebrows at her. “As I said, it is acceptable. Christine.” He sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers together before him. His tone remained even and his cadence deliberate and slow. “You are an investment. I expect that the more I invest in your season, the higher quality the return will be. As a daughter, your use to my household’s development is in whatever attachment you make in marriage.”

  Christine tried not to flinch at his words. She knew she ought to be used to them by now.

  “Any assets that are yours, such as the horses, your dowry, inherited jewels, will enrich your husband. If you prove to be a stable marriage partner, able to keep your husband’s social standing above reproach, you will be of benefit to him. You understand?”

  “Yes, Father.” She tried not to fidget, but clasped her hands tightly before her.

  “I benefit from whatever connections your new family will have. If you marry a lord, we have access to nobility. If you marry a politician, we interact with those who influence policy and procedure. Should you marry a gentleman of means, his connections will become mine. Do you understand?”

  Christine nodded again, firmly. “Yes, Father. I know your expectations.”

  “Do you? Julia claimed to understand what her marriage would mean for us and yet she failed me abysmally, her season nothing more than a mistake. A wasted investment.” He sighed and his eyes swept her figure. “Many girls believe a season to be their due. It is not. A season is nothing more than a business exchange dressed in fine clothing. Negotiations set in ballrooms. Your marriage will be a contract, and a well negotiated contract at that. Do not disappoint me.” The last he said with an air of warning, his eyes darkening with disapproval.

  Christine swallowed and sat straighter. “I will not fail, Father. I will make you proud.”

  “That remains to be seen.” He looked back down at his books. “That will be all.” He uttered the dismissal in the same tone reserved for servants, making his point clear. Like those he employed, she must obey him.

  “Yes, Father.” She rose, dropped a quick curtsy, and left the study. Once the door closed behind her, she drew in a deep breath, marveling at how stuffy the atmosphere felt in that room. She smoothed down the front of her dress before
walking back up the steps to find her sisters. Still jittery from the audience with her father, the comfort of their company felt most necessary.

  ∞∞∞

  Hannah Littleton came by in the early afternoon, all smiles and excitement over the pending visit of her two cousins. They were both young gentlemen from Warwickshire. One, the heir to her father’s estate; the other, a dashing young captain in the army. Hannah obviously thought highly of them as she expounded upon their virtues.

  “You remember them. They visited five years ago at Christmastime.”

  “We were in London at the time,” Julia said. Christine recognized the false lightness Julia affected when speaking to others of London. But no one else heard it, and Julia carried herself gracefully enough no one would think a thing amiss.

  Christine realized this past visit coincided with the beginning of Julia’s season. That year and every one before it, they spent Christmas in London to attend all the events society held to mark the holiday. Now they spent the holiday in the country. Would that change, should Christine marry well?

  “It is no matter,” Hannah said with a wave. “They were a nuisance then. But twenty-five and twenty-two are ever so much more mature ages, I should think. I saw them last spring and they are both positively charming. I desperately want them to enjoy themselves here so they might introduce me to gentlemen of their acquaintance during the season.”

  “Oh?” Christine said, tilting her head to one side. “Will they both be there? I should think our military is needed elsewhere at present.”

  “Nicholas, the second son, has responsibilities in London,” Hannah answered primly, barely casting a glance at Christine. Perhaps she had not yet forgiven Christine’s faux pas a few evenings before. “And his family is well enough known to allow him to receive several invitations to social events. I believe many will think it patriotic to invite a young man in uniform to their parties and balls.”

  “I suppose,” Christine reluctantly agreed, though from what she read in the paper she knew men in uniform would be much more useful elsewhere.

  Julia changed the subject subtly, as she always did when London became the focal point of conversations. “You must be excited to have them here for the holiday. What will you do to keep these young men entertained?”

  “Oh, we have many things planned. Which is really why I came. I wanted to be certain you accepted our invitation and extend it to Rebecca and your father as well. I want to introduce them to positively everyone. We shall play cards and have a lovely time.”

  Christine’s immediate thoughts were on Thomas’s suggestions. Since he would be at the Littletons’ home, he could see firsthand how well she performed the assignment given her. An evening out, among gentlemen new to the area, suited her purposes perfectly.

  Cards, in fact, would be an excellent testing ground. She could hardly speak about inappropriate topics when the order of the evening consisted of playing games.

  Julia swiftly confirmed their acceptance, spoke with some delight over what should be worn, and then bid their guest a good day. Once Hannah left, Rebecca voiced misgivings about the evening.

  “Do you think I ought to have said I will go? I am not out yet.”

  “It is Hannah’s family,” Julia said with a calm smile. “A neighborhood gathering, and I am certain her younger sisters will be present or she would not have extended the invitation to you.”

  Christine was on the verge of agreeing when she remembered their father in residence. “Should we apply to Father, to be certain?”

  Julia sniffed and the smile disappeared. “Father rarely cares where we are after supper. I doubt he will care at all whether any of us stay or go.”

  Christine raised her eyebrows and exchanged a look with Rebecca. “We are going to tell him of the invitation, are we not? He may wish to attend.”

  Julia stood and gathered her skirts. “You tell him, Christine. I am busy.” Without another word she disappeared out the door.

  Shaking her head, Christine allowed herself to slump back in her seat. “I cannot understand her.”

  “No. I do not suppose either of us do. She speaks so little.” Rebecca sighed, pushing a chestnut curl behind her ear. “I remember when we used to sit for hours and talk of everything. The inconsequential and the important.”

  “Then she had to go and ruin her season,” Christine added caustically, her eyes going to the window where she could see winter clouds moving in. “And ruin everything for us. At home and in London.”

  “I doubt whatever happened was something Julia meant to do,” Rebecca noted softly. “It is unlikely someone would purposely sabotage their first season, after all.”

  “First and only.” Christine sat up straighter. She determined to change the subject. She felt more anxious about her season now than she had a few days before. She must rid herself of this fear. “What are you reading?”

  Rebecca blushed and shyly took a book out from under the cushion where she sat. “Nothing of importance. A novel.”

  Christine rolled her eyes and sighed. “You had better not let Father see.”

  “When is he ever around to see?” Rebecca asked with a huff, opening the covers of her book. “And I am reading that horticulture book from Aunt Jacqueline as well. But it is difficult to remember where I have laid it at times.” The airy tone and innocent expression did not fool Christine.

  Shaking her head, Christine moved slowly to the window. “Careful, Rebecca. Father expects his daughters to be obedient in all things. I also think he has spies amongst the servants,” she added in a lighter tone. “For he seems to know everything that goes on without ever speaking to us.”

  “The servants like us,” Rebecca countered. “They do not care for Father, beyond his employment of them.”

  The observation was astute and likely true, but Christine remained silent and watched as the clouds crept across the sky, leaving it gray and dreary. Fall would soon give way to winter, which should excite her. The approach of her first season finally gave her the opportunity to experience life! She barely remembered her last visit to London, before her mother passed away, when the whole family looked forward to the visit and all the entertainments of the city.

  Her father said having children underfoot was too much of a bother when he went alone, after their mother died. Now she would be in that great city again, enjoying the festivities, the parks, the libraries and salons, the teas and morning calls. She would be admitted into a new level of society, of sophistication. Plays, operas, musicales, balls, and many other delights awaited her.

  Once there, she must avoid making a complete fool of herself. Thankfully, Thomas Gilbert would help her make certain to avoid that unpleasantness. She hoped.

  Chapter Eight

  Thomas arrived at the home of Lord and Lady Littleton with his sister and her husband. His father turned down the invitation for himself, as Mrs. Gilbert was not feeling well. But his mother desired for Thomas to go out, to see and be seen, newly returned to the country. She also expected a full report of the evening from him, making certain to inform him from beneath a cool compress as she rested on the couch in his father’s study.

  Knowing Christine Devon would be attending the event gave him something to look forward to, beyond the usual entertainments. He needed to study her behavior, to ascertain if she understood her first lesson. He hoped her father would be in attendance as well. If he interpreted that gentleman’s thoughts on the subject, he might help Christine to meet her father’s expectations.

  Thomas barely remembered Mr. Devon, having met only with Mrs. Devon when visiting the stables. Mr. Devon often left for months at a time. Thomas could recall the inclination to stay out of Devon’s way, but now, as an adult, he had no concerns on that quarter.

  “I do hope tonight is enjoyable,” Martha said as she stepped down from their carriage. “It promises to be a late evening.”

  “Why are we here if you are reticent about it?” George asked, looking at his wif
e in puzzlement.

  She waved toward her brother. “To make sure this one does his duty.”

  Thomas chuckled, following them up the steps to the second floor. “I assure you, Martha, I intend to enjoy the evening. A night of games is far less daunting than a supper party.”

  She shot a glare over her shoulder at him but said nothing further. They were greeted by Lady Littleton as they arrived at the parlor.

  “Oh, thank you for coming,” the woman said, her hands fluttering to her chest. “It is good to have you especially, Mr. Gilbert. We have so many young ladies and gentlemen here tonight it makes me feel quite young myself.”

  “Indeed, Lady Littleton,” Thomas said, offering up his most charming smile. “You would fit in with my set in a trice. You look absolutely lovely and your vibrancy is above my own tonight.”

  “Now I remember why I liked when Samuel brought you around,” she said with a wag of her finger. “Go use that charm on the young ladies, Mr. Gilbert. And see if your behavior might entice my son to do the same. Dessert and coffee are available when you wish it. Cards are in the parlor and some of the men are playing at billiards. Go on, enjoy yourselves.”

  George and Martha went toward the dessert tables while Thomas decided to make his way to the billiard room first. Upon his arrival, Samuel Littleton intercepted him. Though they attended different schools, they often kept each other company over the holidays. There were not many young men in the neighborhood, after all, and they were a year apart in age.

  Thomas was introduced and reintroduced to the house guests, the evening guests, and the business associates of Lord Littleton. Most of the men had congregated around the billiards table and brandy, unsurprisingly, Mr. Devon among them.

  Thomas wondered if Christine’s difficulties arose from her father’s social behavior, as he rarely mingled in local society.