His valet grinned. “Exactly, my lord.”
“Don’t you have a coat to press or something?” he snapped.
“I’m sure I do. Excuse me, my lord.”
“Gladly!”
He touched his neckcloth—the seventh after six failed attempts—and fixed his attention on the stained-glass windows, to prevent glancing across the aisle and thus betraying himself. But after the final hymn, he could wait no more, and looked over.
Lavinia had disappeared.
His heart tripped. But no, she’d merely exited early. He went outside.
She was surrounded by people.
He forced himself to wait, to make conversation with Mrs. Foster, his tenants, the squire, Thornton, and Miss Milton, until finally she was freed. “Good morning, Miss Ellison.”
“Good morning, Lord Hawkesbury.” Her gaze was wary, her voice flat.
“I wish to convey my apologies for the mix-up concerning the ball.”
“Was it a mix-up?” Her smile flashed before she glanced away again.
“My mother appears to have overlooked your invitation. I am very sorry.”
“It does not matter. It is of little consequence to me, my lord.”
He frowned. “I am hosting another evening this Tuesday. I was hoping you and your father and aunt would come to dinner, and then afterward, grace us with some music.”
She gave another quick smile to someone nearby, obviously not attentive.
“Miss Ellison? Am I boring you?”
“Pardon?” She turned clear gray eyes to him again. “I’m sorry. It is wonderful to see so many whose company I’ve foregone over the past month. Now, sir, what were you saying?”
His conscience stabbed. He gentled his tone. “I was hoping we would have the pleasure of your company this Tuesday evening. I’ve been telling my guests of your wonderful singing and your skills with the pianoforte and have arranged an evening so they can hear your talents.”
“But I have not yet fully regained my voice! I would not have you embarrassed by my poor ability.”
He’d heard this modesty before. He smiled. “I hope you’ll still condescend to attend.”
“Are you sure my presence won’t be problematic?”
“Problematic? I don’t know what you mean.” He leaned closer. “I never pictured you as someone who backed away from a challenge.”
She stared at him, uncertainty filling her features, as his pulse thundered faster than Midnight’s fastest gallop, willing her to accept.
“Please, Miss Ellison, will you come?”
“I—I’d be honored.”
Her eyes shone shyly, yet she smiled with such sweetness that his heart began to sing.
Surely, this musical evening would allow others to see Miss Ellison at her finest.
The blue drawing room had not felt quite so formidable during her previous stay. The wall hangings and pictures were unchanged, the tall glass vases filled with fresh flowers, but the company—save for her aunt, Sophy, and Catherine—was decidedly cold, the other ladies conversing among themselves as they waited for the men to join them after their post-dinner port.
The door opened, and all languid female activity ceased. Lavinia glanced at the earl, who surveyed the room before giving her a glimmer of a smile, the first from him since she’d arrived hours ago. He spoke briefly to various others before wending his way through scattered couches to where she sat near Sophy and Catherine.
He bowed. “Ladies, I wonder if you would care to attend a picnic on Friday. We had planned to visit a scenic location near Dursley yesterday, but the inclement weather forced its postponement.”
Sophy and Catherine’s squeals meant she did not need to guess their feelings—nor that of the other ladies, judging from the disappointment lining their faces.
“Miss Milton, Miss Winthrop, as you both ride you could perhaps join Captain Thornton and me, if your mothers agree.”
“Of course, my lord,” chimed Lady Milton and Lady Winthrop.
“Miss Ellison, if you would prefer to travel with the other ladies in the carriage, that can be arranged.”
She glanced at their startled faces. This invitation she judged to be entirely his doing, and as such, did not meet with their approval. “Thank you for the kind invitation, but I believe I have a previous engagement.”
She caught her aunt’s frown.
He smiled. “Let me hazard a guess. Something to do with a visit to the poor?”
Her cheeks heated.
“I have duties to attend, but Lavinia has nothing that cannot be altered for another day,” Aunt Patience said. “Thank you. My niece will accept.”
Lavinia studied her aunt, now wearing a small, tight smile. How could she stoop so low?
“We look forward to your performance tonight, Miss Ellison. And you, Miss West.”
Lavinia finally found her voice. “I hope we do not disappoint.”
The earl bowed and turned. She would be hard-pressed to perform well tonight. Her voice was still a little husky from the aftereffects of her illness.
It did not take long before the gentlemen began to press the ladies to perform. Miss Winchester went first, her turn at the pianoforte hesitant and uncertain as her personality seemed to be. After a typically ambitious performance from Sophia, the earl asked Aunt Patience to play. She executed a difficult piece, resulting in copious applause.
Then the earl looked in her direction. “Miss Ellison, would you please grace us?”
She rose, wincing as Sir Anthony loudly exclaimed, “Now we are in for a treat,” and settled at the piano stool. She glanced up once, glimpsed the earl’s faint smile—and the angry look of his mother as she noticed.
Her performance of Rondo alla Turca was mechanical rather than expressive, but it flowed without a hitch. She dipped her head at the applause and moved to go when the earl stood. “Thank you, Miss Ellison. Now, would you be so kind as to sing for us?”
“My lord—”
“Please?”
She bit her lip, but reseated herself. The Handel melody she chose was well within her normal range, but she soon noticed her voice straining, growing ever more raspy, and right at the end, she missed the note entirely, ending in a squeak.
Hot shame slithered across her heart. She bowed at the polite applause and resumed her seat, unable to look at anyone, as her aunt squeezed her hand in sympathy.
Miss DeLancey stood and moved forward to take her place at the pianoforte. Her performance of a Beethoven concerto was competent, indeed elegant, and her voice was very pretty. She finished with a flourish to rousing applause.
The countess exclaimed, “Now that is real musicianship.”
Lavinia’s cheeks grew hot. She ducked her head as the earl rose to his feet. “Thank you ladies, that was lovely.” And the evening continued with tea.
Captain Thornton handed her a cup. “Miss Ellison, that was charming.”
She managed a small smile. “Not as charming as I would have liked.”
She glanced across as the earl moved into view, his face wearing a frown, almost like he was concerned about her talking with the captain. Which was silly. Captain Thornton was kind and thoughtful, but after an initial misjudgment, she now knew he regarded her as a sister, just as she saw him as the brother she never had. She refocused her attention.
“I will be sorry to leave,” the captain was saying. “I’ve enjoyed my time very much.”
“When do you leave, sir?”
“On Monday next week.”
“Oh. Well, I can imagine you will enjoy seeing your family again.”
“Yes,” he replied absently, turning to study Sophia.
Tiredness mixed with disillusionment. She turned to her aunt. “Shall we depart soon? I think it’s getting rather late for Papa.”
Aunt Patience gazed at her shrewdly. “Yes, I believe it is time.” She caught the eye of the earl, who had been busy talking to Miss DeLancey for most of the evening.
He finished the conversatio
n and moved forward. “Your servant, ma’am.”
“Thank you for a delightful evening, Hawkesbury. I fear tonight has been rather a strain on my niece, and we must depart.”
“Of course. I will send for the coach at once.” His brow knit. “I hope tonight has not hindered your health, Miss Ellison. I would not wish you to miss the picnic.” His voice dropped, his hazel eyes holding warmth she’d not seen since his mother’s arrival. “I would be very disappointed.”
Her mid-section fluttered. She dropped her gaze. “Thank you for tonight, my lord.”
“Come, Lavinia. It is time for us to go.”
After a flurry of farewells, they were soon ensconced in the carriage the earl had arranged for their use. Lavinia listened to her aunt’s diatribe about the rudeness of the ton, their shallow ways, their manipulations.
“So why did you insist on my attendance at the picnic if these people are to be despised?”
“Did you see their faces when Hawkesbury asked you? Filled with consternation!” Her aunt gave her brittle laugh. “I may not enjoy their airs and graces, but I do enjoy the polite fiction they must maintain. It will be good for them to realize their money and titles don’t mean a thing.”
Don’t mean a thing? Lavinia sank against the cushions and closed her eyes. What did Aunt Patience mean?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE DAY OF the picnic, not a cloud filled the sky. Resigned to its occurrence, Lavinia determined to look for things to enjoy. The weather was pleasant, she would have friends in attendance, and the countryside, with its rolling hills of olive and umber, was always very pretty.
The earl rode up mid morning. He descended, smiling as she and her aunt went to greet him. “I suspected Miss Ellison would not require as much prompting as other ladies.”
Was he implying she was too eager? She lifted her chin. “I have always held it as impolite to keep people waiting.”
“Such a superior young lady.” His eyes twinkled. “Would that more followed your lead.”
A slow-moving carriage rumbled into view. “Thornton and Miss DeLancey are riding with some of the other ladies. I expect we’ll be in North Nibley in an hour’s time.”
“North Nibley? Where William Tyndale was born?”
He smiled. “The very same. I thought you might enjoy that.”
The warmth in his eyes echoed the heat in her cheeks. She glanced down. Surely he hadn’t arranged today’s destination with her in mind?
The carriage pulled up, and the earl stepped closer to hand her inside. The countess sat with Lady Winpoole, opposite the earl’s cousin, Miss Maria Pettigrew. She couldn’t help but note the ladies’ looks of dismay and the way their skirts drew back, as if such a lesser mortal might contaminate them. She swallowed her misgivings, thanked the earl, bid farewell to her aunt, and determined to be pleasant. “Good morning.”
Their nodded greetings were quickly superseded by a low conversation between the two matrons as the carriage began to move. Lavinia exchanged small smiles with Miss Pettigrew before the older woman’s gaze fixed on the views outside. Lavinia sighed internally.
“My daughter rides very well, does she not, Lady Hawkesbury?”
Lavinia glanced out the window to see a laughing Clara riding next to the earl, her attire and deportment everything attractive to secure a man’s attention.
“My son needs to marry someone who shares his interests, and everyone knows he is a champion on horseback.”
“So true,” Lady Winpoole nodded.
The countess shot her a look. “Do you not agree, Miss Ellison?”
Perverseness made her say, “I’m sure many people know he is an excellent horseman.”
The countess surveyed her with a frown before turning back to her seat companion and resuming their exclusive conversation.
When the carriage finally pulled next to a field in North Nibley, Lavinia felt almost ready to scream. Well might her aunt enjoy mocking these people’s false niceties, but she had to endure it. Constant reminders of God’s grace had been necessary in order to curb her tongue as the countess disparaged everything from the state of village greens to the marked rusticity of the locals. This last had been said with a glance at Lavinia, which had forced her to call upon every ounce of self-control. At least Miss Pettigrew had been agreeable as Lavinia had pointed out elements of Cotswold beauty, but then, the other ladies had ignored Miss Pettigrew as well. The trip had almost been bad enough for her to consider that perhaps she should learn to ride after all!
A tap on the door brought the earl’s smiling face into sight. It seemed he had enjoyed his ride—or his companions—very much. “Ladies, I trust your trip was pleasant.”
“Nicholas, why are we here? A farm is not what I envisaged for today.”
“Mother, we have but a short walk to a most pleasant picnic site the servants have readied for us.”
A few minutes later found them in a lovely wooded area, with trees swathed in vines and autumn foliage. The picnic food was abundant, the crystal and silver-edged crockery lending an elegance unlike any other picnic Lavinia had attended. She ate with Catherine and Sophy—on whom the captain danced attendance—while the other ladies and gentlemen were seated a little way away.
The meal was reaching its conclusion when a shifting of seats saw Clara draw close. “How did you enjoy the trip with the mamas?” She smiled sympathetically, as if assigning Lavinia to her dotage. “I declare I had the most delightful ride. Lord Hawkesbury has the most wonderfully fine seat on a horse.” She turned to Sophy and Catherine. “Did you notice his many compliments to me on my riding? I was quite overcome by his attentions.”
Lavinia swallowed a sour taste as her friends murmured their agreement.
“Your dress is quite charming, Miss Ellison.”
“Thank you, Miss DeLancey.”
“In fact, I’m sure I had one similar several years ago.”
Lavinia smiled sweetly. “Who would imagine we could share such similar taste?”
Clara’s eyes narrowed. “I said to Mama I’d not seen a bonnet like that for simply ages!” Her laughter drew the attention of the gentlemen, who enquired what was so funny.
Lavinia rose and managed a stiff smile. “Miss DeLancey finds certain elements of the countryside rather amusing. Please excuse me.”
She moved away, closer to where the horses patiently nuzzled grass, blinking away the burn in her eyes. This picnic was everything she had feared. Why was she here? Her time would have been much better spent with Eliza or Mrs. Foster. Why had the earl insisted she attend? He’d barely looked at or spoken to her all day. And why did that matter? She unclenched her hands. One deep breath, two deep breaths, three—
“I did not think you cared for horses, Miss Ellison.”
The kindness in the captain’s voice threatened more tears. She forced a smile instead. “No, but there are times when four-legged creatures are preferable to the two-legged kind.”
“Livvie, are you well?” Concern filled Catherine’s eyes as she and Sophia drew close. “I cannot believe how rude she is.”
The Captain pursed his lips. “If you refer to the Honorable Miss DeLancey, it is well known that she does not take competition lightly.”
“Competition?” Sophia’s blond curls quivered. “What do you mean?”
The captain smiled. “I fear I have said too much.”
“Said too much about what?”
Lavinia held her breath at the smooth, deep drawl of the earl, refusing to spin around like her friends did, let alone look up adoringly at him.
“Has something upset you, Miss Ellison?”
She turned to see he wore his habitual frown. She caught her friends’ gazes and shook her head. “I am quite well, thank you.” A quick glance revealed the picnickers’ interest. She stepped away to study the view through the trees, willing him to leave. If his previous attentions had wrought such spite, what would this now do?
“I suspect Miss Ellison is not so i
mpervious to mean-spiritedness as she purports to be.”
The earl’s low-voiced concern filled her eyes again.
“Miss Ellison, you do not seem well,” said the captain. “Do you wish to go home?”
“I do not wish to put anyone to any trouble.” She turned. “Thank you for your concern, Captain Thornton, but I believe I shall stay.” She found a smile. “Fresh air is good for clearing away headaches.”
The captain inclined his head and turned to Sophy and Catherine. “Miss Milton, Miss Winthrop, did you see the bell flowers? They are exceedingly pretty …”
Sophia clutched his arm and moved away, Catherine a step behind. Lavinia watched them for a moment, unwilling to turn to fully face the earl. Why did he remain? She sighed.
“Come now, Miss Ellison. Surely you are not that disappointed to lose your champion?” He stepped closer. “You know he must find a well-heeled young lady to be his bride.”
She glanced up. “I fail to understand, my lord, why you think I must be in need of this information, but I can assure you that it does not pertain to me in the slightest.”
His hazel eyes widened fractionally. “You do not care for Thornton?”
“I care for him—as I would a brother.”
A slow smile curved his lips. She turned away, her heart thumping … ridiculously!
“Nicholas!”
“Excuse me, Miss Ellison.” Uttering a faint groan he moved slowly away. “Yes, Mother?”
“Nicholas!”
He pressed his lips together and bowed to his mother. “Your servant, ma’am.”
Her blue eyes narrowed. “You are neglecting your guests.”
“I was of the impression they were your guests, Mother. I have been trying to be considerate of the people I invited.”
“What you have been trying to do is to harm the consideration the Winpooles have toward you.” Her voice trembled. “I will not tolerate it, Nicholas.”
“And I will not tolerate innocent country misses being abused whilst on an excursion with my mother. Do you understand me?”
Her eyes glittered. “I comprehend perfectly. But you need to realize that Miss Ellison will never be good enough for you! You are playing a very foolish game, my boy.”
The Elusive Miss Ellison Page 21
