Part 6 (2/2)
She hadn't expected him to kiss her; that much was for certain. Again, what if she'd taken that precise moment to turn her head, and he had collided with her mouth rather than her cheek? Would he have apologized? Or would he have taken advantage of the situation?
It all could have been most embarra.s.sing, for both of them, so it was fortunate that the kiss on her cheek had been just that. A friendly kiss. An apologetic kiss? An impulsive kiss? A kiss is a kiss is a kiss, just as a rose is a rose is a rose?
”Stop it,” she scolded herself, feeling her pleasure in Tanner's action being replaced by the uncertainties of a postmortem.
Dipping her pen point once more, she finished with a wish that Nicole would write to her soon, and then signed her name with a bit of a flourish. She had just sanded the page, placed it with the others, and was folding the pages when Charlotte knocked and entered the bedchamber.
”Good, then you're awake. Even fed and dressed,” her sister-in-law said, aiming herself toward a straight backed chair, as those of the softer and more comfortable variety lately were, according to Charlotte, out to trap me forever in their clutches. ”I'm told you were home rather early last night. The ball was a disappointment?”
Lydia got to her feet, clutching the folded sheets in front of her, holding on to a lie while she told a lie, she supposed. ”Not at all. Tanner's cousin is a lovely young woman”-she tried not to smile as Charlotte raised one eyebrow at that-”and we both had several partners during the evening. And...um...and the Gunther Ices were quite welcome in the heat.”
”Yes, b.a.l.l.s can be quite the crush. But then you can always escape to the gardens in search of cooler air.”
Lydia turned back to the desk and laid the letter on the blotter. ”I suppose that's true,” she said weakly. She was such a terrible liar, and most probably as transparent as gla.s.s. She should have practiced, the way Nicole had.
”Of course,” Charlotte went on breezily, ”even while attending anything as civilized as a ball in the center of Mayfair, something untoward can occur.”
Lydia spun about, pressing her back against the edge of the desk, using her hands to keep herself balanced. ”You know. How could-”
”A pa.s.sing Gypsy taught me how to read tea leaves? But, no. Tanner told Rafe in a note he sent round early this morning. And Rafe immediately told me, because my husband knows how fruitless an exercise it is to try to keep anything from his loving wife. It was an unfortunate incident, and I'm so sorry you had to witness any such unpleasantness. But it's over now. And Rafe and I entirely agree that it would be best to remove the baron from London for a s.p.a.ce. You'll all have a wonderful time at Malvern, I'm sure.”
”Pardon me? When did that happen? I'm going to Malvern?”
Charlotte nodded, her eyes twinkling with mischief. ”Rafe's already given his permission, yes. Just a small house party. You and the baron, Miss Harburton and Tanner.”
”Me and the-that is to say, the baron and I?”
”Rafe says he can be quite amusing, not to mention marvelously wealthy and sinfully handsome. And he's technically eligible, as well, if a bit of a social outcast, although that will pa.s.s. Impeccable lineage and a deep gravy boat always see to that, eventually, or so history tells us. Oh, dear, what a puss on you! Don't tell me you've taken him in dislike?”
Had Charlotte been drinking this morning? No, of course not. But she was next door to giddy, and Charlotte was rarely giddy. Lydia pulled out her desk chair and sat down. It was either that or fall down, she supposed. ”No, I most certainly haven't taken the baron in dislike. He's really rather sad, beneath all his quips and a tendency for outrageous silliness. But what has that to say about-”
”How clever of Tanner to find you such an eminently suitable...well, suitor. Yes, there was that rather nasty business several years ago-Rafe told me all about it-but he has received the king's pardon, so that's all there is to be said on that head. Still, it would be best to remove the man from the gossipmongers for a s.p.a.ce, and what better way than to give an outward show of a house party serving as some welcome respite from a hectic Season? And if anything more were to come out of it,” Charlotte said, lifting her slim shoulders in an elegant shrug, ”something like, oh, a betrothal? Well, then, we'll just leave that up to the Fates.”
”The fates, is it?” Lydia narrowed her eyelids. ”You know, Charlotte, for a moment there you sounded just like Mama, almost as if you're planning my future for me. And as you well know, that is not a compliment.”
Charlotte lightly slapped her palms against her knees and stood up with more alacrity than she'd been showing for several weeks. ”It's settled then? You leave for Malvern tomorrow. A single night on the road should do it, Rafe says, what with the quality of Tanner's horseflesh. A week in the country, breathing fresh air, and then a leisurely return to Ashurst Hall.”
Lydia's mouth had already dropped open, ready with her reply-her refusal, although why she felt the need to turn down the invitation she had not yet sorted out in her head. But mention of Ashurst Hall had her re-thinking her answer. ”Ashurst Hall? I'll be going home? But...but what about the remainder of the Season?”
”Rafe has decided that his wife is more important than whatever arguments are taking place in Parliament for the moment. Especially since I told him that it's possible I miscounted, and his son is due to make his appearance earlier than we'd first expected.”
”Really?”
”No, not really. I'm more than certain of the date. But my announcement did serve to get him up and moving, I'll say that. And if you can't tell, I'm nearly giddy with the thought of returning to Ashurst Hall.”
”I had noticed, yes.” Lydia looked askance at her. ”I never knew you were a conniver.”
Charlotte grinned. ”Neither did I, actually. It's rather fun. At any rate, Rafe has set preparations in motion for us to depart for home tomorrow morning. And with you on your way to Malvern at much the same time, the household will be busy today, putting everything in Holland covers. We shall make quite the grand parade of traveling coaches, won't we, heading out of Grosvenor Square. You, heading to the north, Rafe and I traveling to the south, and with Nicole causing her usual mischief somewhere in between.”
”But...but...” Lydia's head was spinning.
”Rafe's already penned a note to her at Basingstoke, asking that she and Lucas come to Ashurst Hall when her visit is over. So we may all be going our separate ways at the moment, but we'll all be together again soon. There's an heir to be born, after all, and weddings to plan.”
Lydia sprung to her feet once more, feeling helpless in the midst of a veritable storm of events in which she had no say, could find no way to refuse. ”Weddings? Charlotte, will you stop! Please? Your baby, yes. And Nicole's wedding to Lucas. I've been saying for weeks that we should all be returning to the country. But weddings? In the plural? I am most certainly not going to marry the baron. How could you even think that, on a single day's acquaintance?”
Charlotte's smile was breathtaking, and more than mildly mischievous. ”Sweetheart, whoever said anything about the baron? Certainly not I. You really do need some time away from the hustle and bustle of the Season, don't you? The country air should clear your head.”
But if Charlotte wasn't throwing her at the baron's head, then she must be tossing her at-Lydia sat down so quickly this time that her teeth jarred against each other. Nicole having the seamstress clip away at all of her gowns. Rafe pus.h.i.+ng her toward Tanner's estate without so much as inquiring as to her opinion of such a trip? Charlotte grinning like some cat who'd gotten into the cream?
Was the whole world thinking what she had been so careful not to ever utter out loud?
Before Lydia could think of anything else to say, her sister-in-law, surprisingly light on her feet suddenly, s.n.a.t.c.hed up the letter to Nicole and was gone from the bedchamber, saying she thought there might still be time to catch the morning post.
For a woman who had lately complained that she waddled worse than the ducks in the pond at Ashurst Hall, she'd certainly moved with a spring in her step.
Oh, G.o.d, a spring in her step. Would that phrase never leave her mind?
So Charlotte saw Tanner as a prospective bridegroom. Rafe probably thought the same, and the two of them must be just tickled down to their toes that they could push her off to Malvern with Tanner on the pretense of Justin's disgrace being somehow miraculously cured by dint of a small house party in the home of a duke.
It was all so transparent. But they meant well. Nicole and Charlotte and Rafe-they all meant well.
She did like Tanner very much. Very much. And he had kissed her, if only on the cheek. And he wasn't going to marry Jasmine; at least Jasmine said so. There was no more reason to try to hide her growing affection for Tanner because he was all but betrothed to another woman, not when that woman didn't want him.
Except there was still that business of Tanner's obligation to the captain, his promise to always take care of her. If he wasn't going to marry his cousin on the strength of a deathbed wish, should she not even entertain the lowering thought that he might marry her on the strength of another deathbed wish?
Suddenly the memory of Tanner's brief, chaste kiss on her cheek didn't seem quite so romantic. Coupling that kiss with this sudden invitation to his estate-and everyone's ill-concealed joy over the thing...?
”Oh, dear...”
Was she imagining things, or had Tanner already approached Rafe and gained his permission? Was there an offer of marriage waiting for her once they were at Malvern, away from the wagging tongues that would be questioning: ”But what about the cousin?”
It all seemed so cold, so calculated. And here's my lovely estate, and there's the barns, and the horses, and the fields. Please, help me salve my conscience and marry them. Fitz would be so happy to see you well-settled.
Lydia's shoulders slumped. Oh, how dreadful!
There was something else, something horribly unnerving about the idea of everyone else so blithely deciding her life for her, as if they all knew best. After all, she wasn't a child anymore. Why did they all persist in seeing her as fragile? And quiet. And...biddable. Of the three, biddable seemed to be the worst.
She wasn't biddable. Nicole was flamboyant, impossible to rein in, which only made Lydia appear quiet and biddable in contrast. That's all. She had a mind. She could make her own decisions, thank you very much.
What would they all do if she pretended an attraction to the baron, if only for a little while. The man was already flirting with her, clearly playing some game for his own amus.e.m.e.nt. Perhaps she should flirt back at him, Wouldn't that put a spoke in all of their wheels! The thought made her feel...my goodness! She felt actually stubborn. Or, considering that she was very probably in love with Tanner anyway (not that anyone had asked), was that petty...?
”She's gone then?” Sarah poked her mobcapped head around the edge of the door to the dressing room, and then skipped lightly across the room, her smile wide. ”Oh, milady, ain't it just grand? I heard all about it below stairs. We leave in the morning for the country. And to Great Malvern, no less. I've family there, milady. M'cousin Martha got herself bracketed to the baker what has his shop straight on High Street. Martha's a wee bit high in the instep now, but we've been chums forever, and no sayin' a person can't take on some airs when they've wed so well, I say.”
<script>