R. Mathewson - Truce: The Historic Neighbor from Hell

              He pasted his most charming smile on his face. “It would be my pleasure.” He kissed the hand of Lady Penelope and noted that she was rather fetching. He then greeted Lady Emma, who was unfortunately her mother’s daughter. He was willing to bet the girl weighed two stones more than him and she was short, making the extra weight all the more tragic.

              Lady Penelope fluttered her eyelashes at him in a very flirtatious manner. Even though he had no plans on marrying anytime soon, he wouldn’t mind spending a little time with a beautiful woman. “Lady Penelope, would you care to take a turn about the room with me?”

              She looked down shyly, an act he was sure. “That would be lovely, Mr. Bradford. Thank you.”

              Robert took her hand and placed it on his arm. He could barely feel her grip through his jacket. It was a shame that women of her class wore gloves everywhere. For once he would like to feel a woman’s bare hand on his arm. A firmer grip wouldn’t hurt either. Her touch felt cold and distant to him. He hated these games, but he would be willing to play them to make his mother happy, or if it meant that he could steal a kiss from a beautiful woman.

              “Lady Penelope, have you been enjoying London?”

              “Yes, the weather has been delightful,” she answered. Her answer was short and proper and without a trace of an original thought. He’d been hoping to engage in an actual conversation to pass the time. No, perhaps he hadn’t asked a good question. Maybe she wasn’t like the rest of these mindless drones who cared about nothing except finding a husband with a title and a large purse.

              He cleared his throat. “Have you been to the theatre lately?”

              She smiled brightly at that. He enjoyed the theatre himself.

              “Oh, I’ve really enjoyed going. Papa allowed me to purchase three new gowns just for the theatre. I have one in light pink, one in light green, and a pretty violet dress. Also, I bought new bonnets and gloves. It was so delightful!”

              He could cry. He really could.

              “What play did you attend?” he asked, hoping there was a way to salvage this conversation.

              “Pardon me?” she asked, clearly confused.

              “What play did you attend? When you wore your new dresses, what play did you attend?”

              “Oh!” she exclaimed as if this was a new and unexpected line of questioning. “I didn’t wear my new dresses to the theatre. I wore my yellow dress, because it went better with the gold curtains in my family’s box.”

              “The play, Lady Penelope, what was it?” Please let her know this. Damn him and his standards. He didn’t consort with whores, married women or innocents. Well, he didn’t take more than a few kisses from an innocent. The one universal problem he had, he couldn’t stomach the company of empty-headed women.

As much as he enjoyed sex, and he truly did, the prospect of it had never driven him wild or distracted him to the point that he could ignore his ridiculous standards and risk being with a woman with a penchant for drama. Then again, he’d never had much of a choice in the matter thanks to Elizabeth Stanton. It had only taken her a few minutes one sunny afternoon to guarantee him a life of misery.

In a matter of minutes she’d turned his pleasant existence into something of a nightmare. After she’d dubbed him Robert Lemonade, he’d lost all his friends, his reputation and his life had been turned into a living hell. He’d been teased, taunted and humiliated thanks to her. He’d become a primary target for the other boys at school.

For two whole years he’d been pushed around, beat up and taunted. They found great fun in humiliating him and made damn sure that he was humiliated on a daily basis. Without the protection of a title, the knowledge of how to fight, or friends who could have defended him, he’d been an easy target. They enjoyed themselves immensely at his expense until the day that he’d finally had enough and started to fight back.

At first he’d lost more fights than he’d won, but it was enough to make some of the other boys think twice about throwing lemons at him, knocking down his books, or sneaking into his room and drenching his bed and clothes with vinegar. His sudden growth spurt hadn’t hurt either. While the other boys had grown slowly into manhood, it seemed as though he’d been shoved head first into it.

He’d grown into a man during the summer break of his fifteenth year just shortly after he’d finally had enough of Elizabeth Stanton’s bullshit. He shot up at least a foot and gained a few stones in muscles while the other boys only gained a few inches and a healthy fear of him. Along with his size, his temper had grown and he no longer put up with jests at his expense. His temper and reputation followed him through the years, making men fear him and woman wary of his company.

If it hadn’t been for his family connections and wealth, he had no doubt that the ton would have turned their back on him long ago. He would have gladly welcomed the exclusion and sought a different life for himself long before now. Life among the ton simply wasn’t for him. For his parents and brother he’d tolerated this existence until a few months ago when he’d finally had enough.

Quite simply put, he hated everything about the ton and its mindless drones. He could care less about the latest gossip, the latest fashions and living his life by a set of ridiculous rules meant to exclude anyone with an ounce of originality. His feelings on the matter had been the basis for his rules about sex and women. He couldn’t tolerate taking a woman without an original thought in her head to bed. He’d done it a few times and had detested the coy games that they’d enjoyed playing.

              “Mama says you bought a new estate. How many acres?”

              He looked down at the woman on his arm. The new expression on her face was calculating.

              Bloody hell.

              “How many acres?” she repeated more firmly this time.

              “A little over a hundred,” he said carefully, not caring one bit for the new gleam of interest in her eyes. He decided not to mention that he’d sold that estate almost immediately after buying it once he’d realized that the bullshit from his past had followed him. Nor did he mention that he’d already purchased a new estate in America and that he was leaving once he’d fulfilled his promise to his mother to help James.

              “Hmmm.” She looked over his clothes as if she were taking inventory. He wore the latest fashion. He didn’t buy clothes often, but when he did, he went for quality. She seemed happy with what she saw if the little nod of approval was any indication.

              He desperately wanted to change the subject before she inquired about his other holdings. “So, what play did you attend?”

              Her face twisted up in disgust. “It was one of Shakespeare’s I’m afraid. I find them all a dreadful bore, but this one was most appalling. Mother insisted that we leave at intermission and I wholeheartedly agreed.”

              He stopped short. He rather enjoyed the Bard’s plays. He couldn’t think of anything in his plays that would be appalling. “What was wrong with the play?”

              “A woman was dressed in men’s clothing! It was obscene!”

              “Was the woman pretending to be her brother?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

              “Yes! It was dreadful.”

              “Was the play ‘As you like it’?”

              “Yes.”

              It was one of his favorite plays. That answered that.

              “Lady Penelope, allow me to return you at once to your mother. I find that I need some fresh air.”

              Her grip on his arm suddenly tightened. “Fresh air sounds lovely.” She licked her lips, invitingly. Christ almighty, the girl wanted to trap him. He practically dragged her back to her mother and without another word he made his way outside.

              He avoided the garden and wooded areas. Those areas were for lovers if they were willing to brave this cold night for an affair. The orangery, softly illuminated by the glow of several lanterns, stood a hundred yards away from the house. It was the perfect spot for an escape on a night like this. In this cold he doubted any woman would willingly brave the weather to go there for a tryst. The orangery was the safest spot for him and it would be blessedly warm inside thanks to the fires that were kept lit to stop the orange trees from dying.

              He ran the last twenty yards to escape the frigid winds and nearly groaned with relief when he entered the warm orangery. He could easily spend the next four hours here, he decided as the smell of a burning fire and oranges teased him. He looked around the orange trees and nearly groaned in disappointment when he realized that this orangery had probably only been recently built. The trees were a bit small and held oranges far from being ripe.

It was really too bad he hadn’t thought to bring a book or something to eat. He’d only eaten an hour ago and he was already starving. It was nothing new. He was always hungry. It was something that his family had never understood, but thankfully they’d stopped teasing him about it years ago. Four hours in the orangery with nothing to do or eat was not his idea of fun, but then again, neither was attending a ball.

              Several lit oil lamps made it possible for him to at least see clearly enough. That was another reason lovers avoided this place, it was too bright. There would be nowhere for them to hide if they were interrupted.

              A soft noise caught his attention. Curious, he slowly moved past several orange trees and froze on the spot at the sight that greeted him. A woman with beautiful brown hair that had to be made from the finest silk the way it reflected the light from the lanterns, sat on a padded bench, softly laughing as she read from a small book.

              Her laughter was like a balm to his soul, instantly relaxing him even as his heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t until she released a small sigh as she turned a page in her book that he realized that he’d moved closer to her. He had no business intruding. This woman obviously came here to be alone. Reluctantly, he took a step back. In his rush to escape unnoticed, he knocked over a bucket and disturbed the peace of the quiet orangery.

              “Who’s there?” the young woman demanded as she placed her book down on the bench beside her and stood.

              Robert’s breath caught in his throat at the first real view of her face. She was excruciatingly beautiful with pale baby blue eyes. Easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on and he wanted her. He gave his head a slight shake. He didn’t even know this woman. What in the hell was wrong with him?

* * *

“I can see you, so you might as well come out,” Elizabeth said, placing her small book on the cushion beside her.

              She watched as a handsome man with vivid green eyes stepped forward. His black hair was cut short and styled differently than what was popular, but it looked good on him. His skin was tanned like hers. It was one of the many things that her mother complained about, but she loved the outdoors too much to care. She craved the warmth of the sun on her skin too much to be bothered with the fact that it darkened her skin and made it unattractive.

              “I’m sorry, my Lady. I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll leave,” he said in a deep voice that she found soothing as he bowed slightly before taking a step back to do just that.

              “No, please. You don’t have to leave. I would be heartless if I sent you back into the cold night if you wished for a quiet escape. I believe this orangery is large enough for both of us to seek a quiet refuge,” she said with a smile, hating the idea of turning anyone out into the cold and forcing him to return back to a ball that she hadn’t been able to escape fast enough.

* * *

              “How do you know that I was searching for solitude? Perhaps I was meeting a lover?” he said, regretting it before the last word left his lips.

What the hell was wrong with him? She would probably slap him or faint dead away at his lack of propriety.