by Heather Boyd
He opened her hand and placed a small weighty parcel on her palm. “These are for you as well. I’m sure you’ll recognize them without requiring an explanation.”
Imogen passed the small parcel between her hands, noticing a distinct familiarity in the texture and dimensions. She immediately lifted it to her nose and inhaled the scent of caramels. “Are you attempting to sweeten my mood?”
“Is that even a possibility?”
The teasing response took her by surprise. Imogen didn’t answer. Peter should be happy to have escaped marriage to a blind woman, but he acted as if the situation and her condition were of no importance. She should have questioned Walter about Peter’s life before he had gone out. Peter did not act like a married man yet she couldn’t ask him his situation. She wanted to know what was different about the man at her side.
When he shook out the paper and began to read, her heart fluttered. His voice filled the room and smothered her with sensations she fought hard to deny. No one else assumed to do so many little kindnesses when they visited. Peter hadn’t rushed to pick up her spilled yarns, treating her like a capable woman rather than an invalid as Walter often did. And he brought precious gifts from the outside world that she’d missed but had forgotten how much. Being blind meant one only discovered what she heard, smelled or touched in her small world. Peter brought the world with him.
Occasionally, Peter asked her opinion on the news he’d read out loud and she hesitantly ventured to voice her views. They discussed politics at length and then he fell silent.
“What’s wrong?” she asked at last.
Paper crackled. “The heroine in The Lady Most Likely. Did you base her on Miss Pease by chance?”
“I base them on no one in particular. To do so would draw unwanted attention and create difficulties for Walter and myself.”
“But,” he leaned close enough that his breath caressed her cheek. “I chanced to dine in Miss Pease’s company last night at Merton’s, and this morning I was struck by certain similarities to the innkeeper’s daughter you wrote of. The giggly laugh, the over-application of perfume, and the distinctive way she cut her food into the tiniest of pieces before she loaded her fork. Could two such creatures exist without there being a slight coincidence?”
Imogen blushed at the mistake. Usually she was more discreet in her descriptions. “Well, perhaps one or two character traits might have been drawn from previous meetings between myself and Miss Pease. I do write about the world around me.”
“And you will again,” he insisted.
Although she yearned for what she’d lost there was no turning back. “No, Sir Peter. The time for writing is long gone.”
“Maybe not today, but I fear our time is up for the moment.” His breath whispered across her cheek. “I shall bend all my efforts to convince you to write again or die trying. May I call on you tomorrow?”
Although it was foolish to allow her excitement over speaking of the world at large, and writing, to overset her sensible plans, Peter’s arrival had filled a void of loneliness that had only grown larger as her sight had dimmed. “I won’t be convinced, but if you have no other plans I’d be only to happy to receive you and your family should you chance to call again. Please do not feel obligated.”
His breath skimmed her cheek again and then lingering warmth pressed to her skin as he kissed her. But why? When his lips strayed to the corner of her mouth, she caught her breath. Surely he wouldn’t attempt to kiss her? “I’ll catch you later,” he whispered.
She tensed at the way he said catch. Just because she couldn’t see didn’t mean he could take liberties. If he hadn’t been interested enough to kiss her when they were engaged to be married she certainly wouldn’t allow kisses when he was married to someone else. She sat stiffly as disappointment filled her. “Goodbye, Sir Peter.”
Imogen sensed when he stood and his slow footsteps as he left the room told her he was content to leave. When the front door closed behind him with a solid thud, she sat back, rather stunned. In the past Peter, had never stayed beyond the length of a morning call but it seemed to Imogen he’d lingered considerably longer than was proper. Why would he completely disregard the social conventions? He shouldn’t dally with her if he were married. And if he was married, he’d had no reason to call today to renew their acquaintance.
Frustrated by the gap in her knowledge, she popped a caramel into her mouth and savored the sweetness. How kind of Peter to remember what she’d purchased for herself when they’d been engaged. She hadn’t realized he’d noticed her sweet tooth. Imogen preferred to maintain her trim figure so she hadn’t asked Walter or her housekeeper to replenish her supply in a very long time.
The heavy steps of her butler crossed the threshold. “Miss Teresa Long to see you.”
Imogen had barely greeted Teresa when the butler intruded again. “Miss Julia Radley has arrived.”
A set of strong feminine arms wrapped around her. Julia. “You survived his call then.”
“Whose? Sir Peter’s?”
“Well, who else’s you silly girl?” Teresa chided in a gentle voice. “I’ve never seen the man in so foul a temper as he was last night during dinner. When he beat us to your door this morning, I was half afraid of what he might have said to you. It was very clear to all last night he hadn’t known of your situation and wasn’t the least happy about being kept in the dark.”
Imogen gestured to the chairs around her. “Oh, do sit and be calm. There was no need for him to know. I was the one to set him free, if you recall. What do you think of his wife? Is she very beautiful?”
A vast silence settled on the room and then Julia cleared her throat. “He has no wife with him. He’s not a married man, Imogen.”
Imogen frowned. Then whose scent was Peter drenched in last night and how had he come to be that way? Had he spoken to her after he’d been with a ladybird? The idea turned her stomach. And if that was the case, she didn’t know what to think of his behavior this morning. “I don’t understand.”
Julia sighed heavily. “Are you sure breaking your engagement was the right decision? After all, you did make a very fine looking pair. According to Linus, Sir Peter spent the better part of half an hour choosing the perfect bunch of scented flowers to bring you this morning after their swim.”
“And sweets,” Teresa chimed in. “I thought that very thoughtful of him.”
Imogen couldn’t help the smile that crossed her lips. When they’d been engaged, Peter had been everything that was charming and kind. At least that part of his personality had survived his elevation in rank. “I have to admit that without my sight, pretty flowers without scent fall a little flat as a gift for me. I appreciate his forethought in choosing a scented bunch, and the caramels, but it doesn’t change anything. I’d make a completely unsuitable wife for him. Now, tell me what else happened at the dinner last night.”
There was another long pause before Teresa spoke. “I know you claim your heart uninvolved, but I must warn you the whole of Brighton will surely have set their sights on Sir Peter as a candidate to marry. Even Melanie.”
Imogen squeezed her hands together, disappointment filling her. At least by being blind she’d be spared watching any courtship. “That was to be expected. A titled gentleman is much sought after as a husband.”
Teresa patted her hands. “I think chances are slim Sir Peter will be in a rush for matrimony. He’s had ample opportunity in distant fields and is still unwed. But Melanie and even Miss Pease looked him over last night as if he were made of gold. I can only conclude that Melanie will add him to her list of candidates for her hand and Miss Pease will become a frequent caller to Cavendish Place in the hope of running into him.”
Julia giggled. “I do hope Miss Pease leaves off her perfume the next time Sir Peter sees her. The scent she’d drenched herself in made his eyes water and set him to sneezing. Lilac. The poor man suffered.”
Well, that explained where the scent that clung about his person c
ame from but not how. If he’d only dined with her, he must have seen her again that night. Had he escorted her home and … well, she didn’t want to picture anything further.
“That was very kind of you to draw him toward the open doorway for fresher air, though Melanie thought you shamelessly forward,” Teresa warned in a low voice.
“Nonsense.” Julia caught up Imogen’s hand. “I was only doing what Imogen would have done should she have been present. I could not abandon him while his defenses were down.”
Imogen shook her head. “You make it sound as if you are at war, Julia.”
“Life is war. Have you forgotten what it is like to be pursued for your connections or your dowry alone? Imagine Sir Peter’s appeal now. Rich, titled, available.”
Imogen laughed. “No, I’ve not forgotten, but what happens to him is his business and not mine.”
Julia released her hand. “Then Melanie will consult her list, judge him the most worthy, and win by fair means or foul so she may shove her title in our faces. You know what she’s like.”
“Does Melanie really have a list?” Imogen tried valiantly to shake off her distress at Peter married to Melanie Merton. Last year Abigail had plotted to make Melanie Peter’s wife but Imogen hadn’t believed it a good match then and still didn’t. Melanie might be well dowered, but she wasn’t kind. She would make his life a misery and last year, Imogen’s proposal had spared him the connection. This time though, Peter was on his own. Worry seized her and she clenched her hands together. “Who else is on the list? Anyone we know?”
“Mr. Radley is on it,” Teresa said quickly.
Julia groaned. “My brother had better not fall prey to her fraudulent charms. Imagine what my life would be reduced to if we were related. Oh, the horror.”
For a moment, Imogen considered asking where Walter might be on the list but then she discarded that thought. Melanie would never have considered Walter. Her brother was safe. “Do you think Mr. Radley might be interested in Melanie?”
“Who knows with Linus,” Julia grumbled. “He keeps his interests very close to his chest. I’ve never detected one kind thought he’s had for a woman. We are not close siblings.”
Imogen sat up straight, distressed by what she was hearing but unable to take part fully in the discussion because she could hear one thing and miss the expression that went with it. Julia could be making fun for all she knew. Imogen really didn’t know much of what went on between her neighbors anymore. “Well, let’s hope Mr. Radley has enough sense to avoid her snares and traps.”
“Let us also hope Sir Peter will do the same,” Julia added, “and remembers where his best chance of happiness lies.”
“Sir Peter will make the right choice without any interference,” Imogen replied quickly. She had to stop her friends from plotting her second engagement to Peter. He deserved a wife who could be his equal in all things rather than a millstone about his neck.
CHAPTER NINE
Women, wine and wagers. That was usually the topic of conversation when Peter and his friends played cards. The comfort he found in the gathering settled his decision to return to Brighton and leave greater society behind. This was as near to content as he’d ever been in the last year. He helped himself to one last forkful of chicken and then resumed his seat at the head of his dining room table to place his modest bet.
“Friday night has not been the same without your presence, Sir Peter. Always a handsome spread.” Walter George confided from behind a plate piled high from the contents of the sideboard. Despite his slimmer profile it was clear his appetite had not been reduced as he plunked a second helping at his end of the table before digging in with gusto.
Friday night had been the highlight of the week in his household in previous years. At that time, he’d needed to keep up appearances so no one would ever know how close to the wind he’d sailed. He shuddered at the thought of debtor’s prison. If not for Imogen offering him a life raft, that in the end he hadn’t needed to cling to, he’d have already been there and miserable, but then fate had swept him into a greater fortune than he’d ever dreamed. Yet over the past year he’d been far from content. He could afford to gamble as much as he wanted now but strangely found he wasn’t so keen to risk the security of the funds.
George belched and tapped at his chest. “Pardon me. My stomach has missed you.”
Peter laughed. Walter George was rather uncharacteristically cut this evening. His cheeks held a cheerful ruddy glow brighter than a burn on a summer’s day. Given what Peter knew of the stress of life with Imogen as she was now, he judged Walter George probably needed to take his mind off his troubles for one night.
Peter tossed a few coins onto the growing pile and picked up his cards again. “I’m in.”
The others cheered as Radley matched his bet. “We’ve all missed Friday night cards here,” Radley confided. “How else can we get a moment’s peace away from our families?”
Merton chuckled softly. “Is Miss Julia causing you trouble again?”
“If only I were sure of that.” Radley frowned at his cards. “I swear the way she’s smiling she’s got a secret admirer.”
“Now that is news.” Merton pursed his lips as he stared at his cards. “Any idea who?”
“None. The bastard is fast on his feet.” Radley stared across the table. “When you called on me yesterday did you notice anyone in the parlor with m’sister as you were leaving?”
“None at all. She was alone when I passed the doorway.” Merton folded and sat back.
Radley grunted. “Well, she bears watching. The way she goes on, daring us all to race her left and right, she’ll ruin her own reputation without help.”
Merton swiveled on his chair to face Peter. “Now do tell us about the ladies you encountered during your time away. Were there none to tempt the new baronet to play?”
Peter laughed at the brash question, aware Walter’s gaze had sharpened on him and was no longer indifferent to what he might say. “I did meet one lovely lady, sharp tongue, sharp mind. A pity she was closer to one hundred than my own age.”
The table burst into laughter, all but Walter. He stared.
Radley leaned forward. “I know a lot of pretty ladies who’d be only to happy to meet a young and well to-do baronet. You’ve only to say the word and the world is yours, you know.”
Peter smiled at the irony. A year ago he’d been desperate to find a solution to his problems but had been overlooked by all and sundry. Now the title opened many doors for him but none he wanted to walk through. “I’ll pass.”
“Suit yourself,” Radley drained his glass and rose on unsteady feet. “But don’t think your title and money will always smooth the way with everyone. More men have been made unhappy by a pretty face without the right connections. You should choose wisely.”
He intended to. He remembered Imogen’s face as she’d inspected his simple gifts that afternoon. He’d made a good start in renewing their relationship. Her expression when he hadn’t stolen a proper kiss had been priceless. He treasured her disappointment that he hadn’t taken advantage more than his title or his money. “I think I know what I want and am happy to wait.”
Radley’s gaze grew sly. “Does Miss George still have you under her spell?”
“I never said that.” He quickly emptied his glass to hide the foolish hope that consumed him. He really did wish for another chance with Imogen. He just wasn’t sure how to proceed.
“Never denied it either,” Radley countered as he set his hat to his head. “Well, I wish you all the luck in the world. She wouldn’t even give a friend of mine the time of day two years ago when he went courting her. I’m for bed. Goodnight one and all.”
With that Linus Radley scooped up his winnings and weaved his way from the room.
“You’ve all but declared yourself,” Merton remarked as he gathered the cards and slapped the deck on the table.
Walter shook his head. “Don’t you think you should wait on my sister
to give you some sign your pursuit is wanted?”
“If I waited on Imogen we’d never be married.”
Walter’s brow rose. “So marriage is your goal after all.”
“Yes,” Peter confessed. His whole body felt lighter for finally spitting out the truth. He may have set aside his original hopes but the truth was his goal had not changed in the past year. Blind or not, Imogen was the perfect match for him. She was smart, she was witty, and she attracted him. “I just need an opportunity to make her see that her blindness is not the hindrance to a happy and fulfilling life she believes it to be.”
“Remember what I told you on your return. She doesn’t believe in passionless marriages. You will have to convince her the right way.” Walter pursed his lips and then dug in his waistcoat pocket. He glanced at his hand a long moment then slid a key, his front door key judging by the shape, across the polished wood. “Mind if Merton and I continue to play in your absence?”
He gulped at the surprising boon he was being offered. Could it really be that simple to go to Imogen tonight and convince her to give him a second chance to prove he did find her attractive? Very desirable in fact. The idea of having her all to himself was too good an opportunity to pass up. “Not at all. Lock the front door as you leave. I have my key.”
He stood, amazed at his luck but ecstatic at the thought of being completely alone with Imogen. When he’d visited with her earlier, her housekeeper and butler had lingered beyond the door making him rather conscious that they were listening in. He didn’t think they disapproved; he’d spotted their happy smiles as he’d left. It was just that some things were best kept between himself and Imogen. Peter swiftly left his house, hurried to her door and used Walter’s key to let himself into the dark terrace house before he was seen.
