The Social Tutor: A Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 1) Read online

  “They were at least entertaining to speak to.” She waved that advice away quickly. “And the only other person I wished to speak to was you. That would hardly suit our purposes.”

  Although she spoke truly, Thomas could not help the satisfaction that came with that statement. At least she didn’t include him with the rest of the “boring” gentlemen.

  “What if there is another element missing altogether? I have been considering what could have gone wrong. Aside from our conversations, I felt I could not add a single original thought to the evening without giving offense. I am missing something.” She heaved a sigh and looked up at the sky, shaking her head.

  “I suppose that is a possibility,” Thomas conceded, regarding her carefully. Thinking over the evening, he had ruminated more upon her father’s remarks than on her performance, as she had not put herself in an awkward position similar to the supper party. No one could accuse her of saying anything remotely impolite, from what he witnessed.

  Christine gestured helplessly with both hands. “But what would it be?”

  He thought carefully of the times when he had been on the receiving end of a young woman’s attention and what it was that charmed him. The most memorable of such moments included particular young ladies who were, in fact, attractive. “Were you attracted to any of the gentlemen you spoke to?”

  “Attracted to?” Her eyebrows shot up and her cheeks turned a becoming shade of pink. “Is that not an impertinent question?”

  “It would be, were I not your tutor on the subject.” He tried to control his smile but failed. At least these conversations with her no longer felt strained. Not now that he understood what she needed from him. “How am I supposed to help you without asking impertinent questions about an entire subject that gentlemen and ladies generally do not discuss?”

  “I see your point.” She smiled benignly and looked down, her gloved hands twisting one another. “I suppose I found Captain Markham to be handsome, especially in his uniform.” She looked at him through her lashes, tilting her head to one side. “If he didn’t speak of the uniform’s tailoring with such exuberance, he may have appeared more so.”

  He bit his lip to hold back a laugh and tried to remain on topic. “Handsome.” He raised his eyebrows, thinking of the young man’s tall and slender build, his light-colored hair and thin mustache. He supposed some young ladies might like that sort of thing. He was of average height himself and sturdily built with all his time spent in the saddle. “Was there anything to draw you to him? Anything about him that made you wish to learn more of his hopes, dreams, family, his past?”

  Christine pursed her lips and shook her head. “I must say, I was so busy trying to curb my tongue that I found little time for being curious over the other guests. He did not express himself particularly well either.”

  He sighed. His work was certainly cut out for him. “Then I do not think you were attracted to him. At all. You merely found him handsome in a general sense. Miss Christine, you need to take a greater interest in the people around you or else they will think you shallow. As much as a man may want an agreeable wife, he does not wish for a shallow companion.”

  She lifted both hands and made a sound of exasperation. “I must be agreeable, but not shallow. That seems a contradiction. What does any of this have to do with attraction?”

  He answered easily, finding this something he could explain. “Attraction is a great deal like a pull, or a tug, you feel when you are with someone. Particularly as you come to know them. For no reason you can be certain of, you will find yourself drawn to spending time in that person’s company. At times, you may wish to know them better because you are drawn to them; and at others, you will be drawn to them as you come to know them. It is something of a paradox.” He shrugged, not sure if he was helping or confusing matters all the more. Thomas should have spent more time with her that evening, helping to engage her in more stimulating conversation.

  She rubbed her forehead, her eyes narrowed to slits. “Indeed. Be agreeable, but try to get to know about the gentlemen and an attraction to them will grow.” Christine narrowed her eyes at him. “And if I don’t know why I’m attracted to an individual, is there any way to control whether or not someone is attracted to me?”

  He sighed and sat on his rock, gesturing for her to take a seat on the fallen tree across the way. He hoped this meeting would not end in a headache. “I believe there are numerous ways to appear attractive and to be an attractive individual. First, let me say that physical appearance is one step.”

  Christine raised a hand to interrupt him. “Wait. Before we go further, we should make one thing clear. Am I an attractive person? Based upon my appearance?” She turned her head, presenting him with her profile. The pink reappeared in her cheeks, he noted with amusement, but she maintained a calm expression.

  Thomas hesitated. How did a gentleman critique a lady with complete honesty on her looks? He supposed he better at least try to be objective.

  He took in her profile, eyes skimming from the dark curls at her forehead down the bridge of her nose, across her cheekbones, noting her long lashes, the pink Cupid’s bow of her lips, and her stubborn pointed chin. He took in her posture, her carriage, and tried not to linger overly long on her figure. He cleared his throat at last, surprised by the enjoyment he felt in the exercise. “I would say you are, yes. Physically attractive.”

  “Is there anything which I could improve upon?” she asked, turning to face him fully, eyebrows raised and laughter dancing in her eyes.

  “No.” Thomas smiled and crossed his arms, pleased he could speak in a calm manner. “You are an agreeable looking young woman.” Most agreeable. Delightful, handsome, and charming. He thought it best not to rain all those compliments down upon her, lest she get the wrong idea. “I think you knew that already.”

  She bestowed a grateful, glowing smile upon him which heightened the beauty of the features he noticed previously. “Thank you. It is nice to have an unbiased opinion, whatever my own may be.”

  Her humble acceptance of his assessment gave Thomas pause. How many young women would hear such things said and do naught but express gratitude? He had surely paid compliments to young ladies before, but they were often deflected with false modesty or met with no more than a flirtatious giggle.

  She continued to surprise him with her next remark. “I shall return the favor and tell you that you are most handsome. When you smile. You far too often look serious.” She affected her own serious expression, an obvious mockery of his usual frown, drawing her brows down deeply enough to make a line appear between them.

  He couldn’t help chuckling, though he shook his head. “As a gentleman attempting to save his family’s future, I should say I have reason to be serious.”

  “Yes, but I would think it becomes tiresome. If you smiled more, you would worry less.” Her smile returned, brightening her side of the brook considerably. “Besides, your payment for helping me should go a long way to assisting your family, should it not?”

  “Indeed, it will.” He doffed his hat to scratch the top of his head. How had they managed to wander from the topic at hand? “Now. Back to our discussion of attraction. To be attracted to a person involves being interested in them. I doubt you would wish to wed a man who you will find tedious?”

  “Well, no.” She admitted it with a shrug. “My priorities are more to find a gentleman of means or title. Or both.”

  “Yes. As you have said.” He shook his head and tried not to sigh. Although he understood her motives, assisting a fortune hunter went against a few of his principles. “But if you wish to attract such a gentleman, it would help if you were also drawn to some aspect of his person other than his wealth. If you are bored when you are in his company, he will soon guess it and move on.”

  “I feel we are talking in circles,” she said. “Have you an example of this sort of thing?” Christine tapped one riding boot against the dirt, her expression curious.

  He reali
zed his best example, truly the one which inspired him above all, was a story with which he had great familiarity.

  “My parents.” He sat straighter and made no attempt to contain his pride in their story. “They met at a ball in London, toward the end of the season. My mother told us the story many times. She saw him from across the room and thought him handsome. She asked after him and somehow arranged for a friend to make the introductions. My father had seen her many times, but never paid much attention to her. Then, standing face to face, with her smile lighting up the whole room, they spoke to one another. They discovered a mutual fondness of reading.”

  Her look turned skeptical, her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline. “That hardly seems promising.”

  Thomas refrained from laughing at her abrupt statement and continued as though uninterrupted. “My father also said he was immediately struck by my mother’s kindness. Before long, he sought her at another event and then decided to pay calls to her home. The more they were together, the more things they found they had in common, and the more attractive they found one another. Until one day, he proposed.” His father told the story often, always mentioning his wife’s beautiful smile.

  Christine had a lovely smile.

  There will be a man to notice and appreciate the way her good cheer brightens everything around it. He did not doubt that thought.

  “It sounds like a love match,” she said barely loud enough for him to hear. He brought his attention back to the present moment, catching the misty look in her deep brown eyes.

  He nodded. “It was.” The preceding generation had precious few of those incredible couplings. “At a time when such was not common. Theirs is still a love match, I would say.”

  Her posture jolted suddenly, becoming stiff once more. Christine’s lips turned downward and she shook her head. “I do not wish for a love match,” she stated firmly, breaking the quiet moment between them with more force than necessary.

  Thomas did not dampen his smile, knowing she did not understand. “The principle is the same. Find common concerns. Expand upon them. Be genuinely interested in what the gentleman says of how he spends his time.”

  Christine stood and resumed pacing, eyebrows drawn together and lips pursed. Thomas thought it a charming way for her to order her thoughts. She hardly ever held still, and the more she thought, the more agitated her movements became.

  “Very well. Then, building upon our previous conversation, I should listen to what a gentleman says, ask questions, not disagree with their opinions, and do my utmost to actually be engrossed with their activities instead of focusing on my goals.”

  “And do not forget,” he added to her very business-like list, “that you are a lovely woman. When you smile.”

  “I believe smiling was my advice to you,” she countered saucily, arching one eyebrow at him. It pleased Thomas to see amusement return back to her eyes. He found he liked her best when she teased him, though he knew he ought to keep them on task.

  He shrugged. “Such sound advice should assist you as well.”

  She laughed and he could not help grinning back at her.

  “Thank you, Mr. Gilbert. You have given me much to think upon. Shall I see you in three days’ time?”

  “Of course.” He stood and bowed. “Until then, practice all we have discussed and you may report back to me your success.”

  “Or failure,” she countered as she mounted her fine horse, using the same large boulder to assist her. “I am not convinced I can do today’s lesson justice.”

  “I think if you are as determined as you say to marry this season you must make every effort. Good day, Miss Christine.”

  “Good day, Mr. Gilbert.” She waved and moved her horse along, leaving him to his thoughts. He understood her desire to make a good match, but why the vehement refusal of falling in love? Why not hope for such good fortune? Nothing would ever entice him to marry unless it was a true and deep affection for a lady.

  Thomas could not imagine Christine would experience difficulty attracting a husband fitting all her requirements. She possessed a quick wit and an ability to converse with intelligence if she would conform to societal expectations. He spoke truthfully on her appearance as well. The young woman had a lovely face, not to mention a pleasing figure. Indeed, he found himself predicting a very successful season for her.

  Even if that success was no more than meeting Mr. Devon’s business expectations.

  Thomas struggled to find the pleasure in that thought. No matter the match she made, he must be happy for her. Christine’s accomplishment would lead to his family’s financial well-being. He wanted her to do well, to find the marriage partner she sought.

  Even if the man might not be perfectly suited to her, which would be a shame.

  Shaking himself out of his brown study, he returned to his horse and decided they both needed more exercise.

  Chapter Ten

  All three sisters were whiling away the hours in the warmth of their mother’s favorite room. Rebecca lounged in a chair, her posture not at all correct. Christine sat in front of Julia on a comfortable couch, her papers spread over the cushions. Julia sat, near the window, knitting.

  Christine sat in the morning room, pouring over the fashion plates sent by their aunt, going so far as to use a pencil to make notes on which particular style she liked and what could be changed to make a gown suit her. While she normally found very little to care about in the way of dress, except when it came to her riding suits, she knew how essential it was that she wear eye-catching styles and the best that a London seamstress could offer.

  It was particularly important that she choose the right shades, those that would play up her coloring. Due to her hours in the saddle, her skin was unfashionably dark. But hopefully, if she wore her hair and clothing correctly, she could turn that problem into an asset.

  She appeared healthy, if nothing else.

  A sigh from across the room, where Rebecca sat reading, stirred her from her thoughts. Christine glanced her way, seeing her younger sister staring into nothing, the book closed in her hands.

  “What are you reading, Rebecca?” she asked, curious.

  “A novel,” the girl said. “The most delicious thing happened. The heroine suddenly realized that the reason the gentleman has been acting with such care for her family is because he is in love with her.”

  Christine snorted and waived dismissively. “Romance is the stuff of fiction, Rebecca. You should know better by now. Father says those books are written by fools who wish to line their pockets by telling the world fairytales.” She sensed, rather than saw, Julia stiffen in her chair, the knitting needles falling still.

  “I rather like a good fairytale,” Rebecca countered, looking pointedly at her book. “They are a far better, more pleasant thing to think upon than the realities Father wants us to pursue. I would much rather dream of a handsome hero than pretend an interest in horticulture.”

  Julia, still seated behind them, chuckled. “Hear, hear, Rebecca.” The needles clicked and clacked together again.

  Christine turned in her chair to look at her elder sister, raising her eyebrows and affecting an indifferent tone. “As if either of you know a thing about romance. It is a foolish pursuit. Nothing could possibly induce me to pin my hopes on love. Love cannot pay off accounts, put food on the table, or elevate one high enough to enter the upper ton. Love is a distraction from the important things in life.”

  Julia’s expression changed and her eyes took on a narrow, knowing look. “Such as what, Christine? What is so important that love cannot have its place in our lives?”

  “Position. Wealth. The ability to increase one’s holdings or fortune. Comfort.” Christine ticked each item off on her fingers, tilting her chin up and trying to sound more certain of herself than she was. “Love alone cannot provide those things.”

  “But it can provide happiness,” Rebecca said softly, pulling the attention of both her sisters back to her. “Which is in short su
pply around here.”

  “Indeed,” Julia agreed softly. “Yet falling in love can also be agony, and a love lost gives naught but heartbreak.”

  Christine sniffed and turned away. “How would you know? You have one season in London, without a single offer, and you come home acting as though you know everything about courtship.”

  “Christine!” Rebecca gasped, eyes wide as saucers. “That was incredibly unkind. How could you?”

  A scraping sound behind her meant Julia rose from her position. When the eldest sister spoke, her words were soft. “She knows Father’s words too well and is attempting to adopt them as her own.”

  Christine attempted not to squirm, wishing her sister would argue with her rather than draw that conclusion.

  “We shall see, Christine, what you make of the wide world after you have been in it. I do urge you, as your sister, not to jump so hastily in your judgments until you have more experience.” Julia’s footsteps moved away until Christine heard the door open and close upon her.

  “That was terrible, Christine,” Rebecca said with a look of pain, her face pale. “How could you speak to Julia that way? She is never anything but kind to either of us.”

  Indeed, Julia’s response left Christine rattled. Somehow, she expected to feel better after deflating her sisters’ opinions of love. Instead, she felt worse than after speaking with her father. Her shoulders sunk and she bit her bottom lip. “I-I don’t know. I did not think—"

  “No,” Rebecca interrupted, standing and clenching her book in both hands. “You did not think. Christine, we are sisters. If we do not protect each other from unfeeling remarks, but instead make them, what hope have we of remaining close and being friends? Mother always wished us to be friends. Or have you forgotten?” Rebecca released a deep sigh. “I will be reading in my room.”

  “I am sorry, Rebecca,” Christine blurted as her sister swept by her.

  “I am not the one who needs to hear you say that, Christine,” Rebecca countered, her tone unforgiving. “Do not forget the Markhams are joining us for tea,” she added crisply before snapping the door shut behind her.