He ignored my edict and stepped into the threshold of the door. Not into the room proper—that would be unseemly—but close enough to converse with me.
“I hear you’ve been ill.”
I fiddled with the blanket, knotting it between my fists. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Then don’t,” he said. His voice was soft, hesitant. “Let me speak.”
I shook my head. “Please leave.” If I faced him again, I wanted the confrontation to be on even ground, when I was of sound mind and heart. Not now, when I felt like the swell of a wave was going to crash over me.
He recoiled and almost shut the door, but he hesitated with his hand inside the doorway. “If I hurt you in any way…I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”
He shut the door behind him.
A fresh wave of tears stung my eyes. I drooped into the bed, staring at the canopy overhead as I battled them away. I breathed deeply, battling that horrid, heavy feeling. Soon, the throbbing in my head dulled to a manageable level.
The door creaked open, followed by the click of porcelain on a tray. I sighed with relief. “Emily, thank you, set the tray over here.”
I sat up, only to freeze as Lady Dunlop squeezed into the room, bearing the tray herself. Emily followed, an apologetic look on her face.
I stiffened my shoulders. “With all due respect, madam, I don’t feel much like entertaining. I’ve—”
“A headache,” Lady Dunlop completed. “Your maid informed me.”
She set the tray on the writing desk and filled the cup with a noxious blend of tea. Not what I expected at all. She thrust it into my hands. “Drink this. It will help.”
That, I highly doubted. I sniffed at its contents and made a face. “Might I have a bit of sugar to…make it go down easier?”
“It wouldn’t help with the taste,” she said, with such a matter-of-fact tone she must have tasted the brew herself on more than one occasion. “Drink it quickly, if it helps. It will cure your headache.”
“Cure…” I swallowed. She expected me to go down to supper. “Lady Dunlop, I cannot possibly go down and entertain—”
The bed dipped with such force as she sat on it, that I nearly spilled the tea. I clung to the cup with both hands as I lurched toward her.
“I don’t expect you to entertain anybody,” she said. “I am the hostess here, am I not?”
She lifted an arch eyebrow. I averted my gaze. What could I say to that?
She forced my hands, holding the cup, toward my lips. I sent a pleading look to Emily, who shrugged helplessly. From the determined glint in Lady Dunlop’s eye, she wouldn’t accept a refusal. She would tip the contents down my throat herself. The only question was whether I let her strip me of all dignity.
Swallowing my trepidation, I held my nose and gulped down the contents of the cup. I gasped as I surfaced from the hot, noxious brew. It burned my tongue, which made me suck in air, which only brought back the horrid taste.
Lady Dunlop pressed a pastry into my hand. “Eat this. It will quell the taste. I’m told they’re your favorite.”
I didn’t meet her gaze but nibbled on the edge of the pastry. It was delightful, and washed the terrible taste in my mouth. Within moments, I licked the last crumbs from my fingers.
Tears sprang to my eyes. “I’m so sorry. I’ve acted abominably.” My voice was quiet, but thick with emotion. “I never should have yelled at you. Or manhandled your staff. Or tracked mud into your house. Or—” let Daisy out of my sight.
“Hush. All is forgiven.” Lady Dunlop patted my knee. Her voice was kind, kinder than I might have been under the circumstance. “I know you’re worried. I’m worried, too. Did you forget my nephew ran off with her? He left no note, either.”
I met her gaze, which seemed genuine. I shook my head. “How can you be so cheerful? You don’t seem worried at all.”
“Lots of practice,” she told me. “And plenty of distraction. There’s still one game left to play at this party, and supper, besides. Will you come down? It might take your mind off the matter.”
I hedged, but Lady Dunlop tightened her hold over my knee. “No one expects you to say a word. Just sit and listen. You might be able to pull yourself from this stupor. Do you want your sister to come back to find you half dead?”
I swallowed heavily. Sweet, perpetually exuberant Daisy didn’t understand the fits that washed over me without warning. At least this time, there was cause. “Do you really think she will come back?”
“Eventually,” Lady Dunlop answered. “She can’t stay away from her family forever, can she?”
I wanted to say no, but I wasn’t certain. Running away didn’t seem like Daisy at all, even if she had been coerced by a gentlemen and a fickle emotion.
Lady Dunlop reached forward and squeezed my hand. “Come down, child.” Although her words were gentle, there was an underlying edge to her voice that told me she didn’t make a request.
Reluctantly, I nodded.
Emily radiated delight as Lady Dunlop trundled out the door. She shut it behind her, leaving Emily and me alone. Emily tugged me from the bed by the hand.
“I have just the thing for you to wear,” she told me.
Before long, I was washed and dressed in an off-white underdress with a gauzy muslin dress over top that shimmered in the candlelight. Emily brushed and braided my hair, coiling it in an intricate coif. Then she daubed powder and various other cosmetics onto my face to hide the horrors of the past two days. She shooed me out the door in record time, despite the way I dragged my feet.
Even so, I descended last into the sitting room. The others grumbled at the delay. Lady Dunlop must have held them in wait for me. The moment I stepped through the door, she smiled.
“There you are, my dear. Lord Hartfell, would you accompany Miss Wellesley to the dining room?”
I trembled as Warren separated his form from the shadows beside the door. Had he known I’d come down and waited for me to make an appearance? We locked gazes, but I couldn’t discern anything of use in his. They were unreadable but gentle. He offered his arm.
Without a word, I slid my grasp onto his sleeve. I strolled to the dining room, where Lady Dunlop seated me at her left yet again. This time, Warren sat to my left. His big, solid presence shielded me from the obligation to make conversation during the meal. Lady Dunlop was true to her word, in that case.
Surprisingly, I relaxed the longer I stayed in company. The pea soup tasted superb, with just the right amount of salt. I slurped my bowl at an unladylike pace. A footman near Lady Dunlop’s age refilled it with a fond smile on his face. He stepped back again, to stand at Lady Dunlop’s rear.
I consumed another bowl of soup, though I picked at the main courses, eating sparingly. By the time dessert rolled around, I ate far too many blueberry pastries. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice my appetite. In fact, they were far too consumed in each other to pay attention to me at all.
Now that I wasn’t focused on my own happiness, I noticed more than one couple with their heads together, ensconced in a tête-à-tête throughout the meal. They chattered with glee and shot fond smiles at one another. Several ladies cast flirtatious glances at their partners, their regard returned. The house party of love appeared to be a success. Even the spinster chaperone had a grin on her face as she engaged in repartee with the scholar, Mr. Wray.
I risked a glance at Lady Dunlop, who smugly examined the procession.
Once everyone had stuffed themselves so full they groaned over the idea of eating another bite, the hostess got to her feet and announced, “We’ll have one last game in the sitting room, for those who care to join. It will be Consequences this evening.”
I smiled with relief. I didn’t know if I could handle something as energy consuming as Charades. But Consequences, which I’d played before, was a light-hearted, fun word game that always resulted in a few laughs.
Warren held out my chair as I stood. “May I accompany you to the sitting room?�
� he asked, his voice low. His expression was tight, almost uncertain.
I nodded but didn’t know what else to say to him. Was he on edge about the fallout of his behavior the other night? I wouldn’t confess to anyone just how close to ruination I’d fallen.
Warren had apologized, if his words counted for anything. I didn’t have the energy to fester with ill will toward him. Or, even, with hurt. Daisy had used up my quota.
So I accompanied him in silence to the room.
The servants had pushed aside the furniture and set up a ring of chairs in the center of the room. Warren led me to a seat and held it out while I swept my skirts away from my rump and sat. He took the seat next to me. Francine claimed the one on my other side. She squeezed my hand and whispered, “I’m glad you changed your mind.”
I sent her a wan smile, the best I could do.
At Lady Dunlop’s direction, the servants handed every member of the circle a sheet of paper and a graphite pencil. Several of the couples had slipped away, but the eleven people remaining made for a lively crowd to partake in the game. I accepted my pen and paper and waited for Lady Dunlop to begin the game.
Warren lowered his head to me and said, “I can’t stop thinking about Tuesday night. I’m glad you don’t harbor ill will toward me.”
“Don’t I?” A sly smile buoyed the corners of my lips. The smothering feeling in my chest shifted a bit, no longer unbearable. I sat straighter as Lady Dunlop called for us to start.
I wrote two adjectives in big, bold letters on the top of the page: boorish, pigheaded. Then I folded the top of the page over my words and passed the paper to my right. Warren accepted it with a worried frown. Good, let him stew. I accepted Francine’s paper and added the next line, a gentleman’s name.
So the game continued in a circle: more adjectives, a lady’s name, a place, an object, a line of speech from the gentleman to the lady, one from the lady to the gentleman, the consequence, and another line of speech. By the time every sheet was filled, we folded our papers one last time and passed them to Lady Dunlop.
She unfolded them one by one, searching for the best one to start. A grin capped her face as she found one. She cleared her throat.
Everyone quieted, waiting to hear what she had to say.
Warren’s fingers ghosted over mine. I jerked my hand back and frowned at him. He didn’t seem to notice he’d done it.
Lady Dunlop began, “The boorish, pigheaded Lord Hartfell…”
I sniggered with the rest of the group. Leaning closer to Warren’s form, I whispered, “You wrote your own name?”
He scowled. “I didn’t think you would write something unflattering.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to quell more laughter.
Lady Dunlop continued, “…met the dramatic Miss Wellesley…”
My smile slipped. Beside me, Francine chortled. “You are dramatic,” she murmured under her breath.
I ignored her as Lady Dunlop continued the tale.
“…in the garden. Oh!” She laughed. “He gave her a kiss.”
The group laughed. Several turned their faces to give us knowing stares. Oh blast. They suspected we had done more than kiss, I imagined. I hunkered down in my chair, trying to hide in Warren’s shadow. It didn’t work. Why couldn’t I be as small as Francine?
“And he said to her, ‘I like to eat eggs in the morning.’”
More laughter traveled through the circle. I couldn’t help but join in.
“She said to him, ‘I prefer red roses.’”
I met Francine’s gaze. We both grinned from ear to ear.
Lady Dunlop continued, “The consequence was that they fell in love.”
I shook my head with a chuckle as I counted around the circle. Sure enough, Lady Dunlop had added that line herself. She grinned voraciously as she concluded, “And the world said—”
“I’m married!”
Chapter Twenty-One
I reeled at Daisy’s voice. Could it be? I whipped around in my chair so fast it crashed to the ground as I stood. Daisy stood poised in the doorway. Her hair was in disarray, strands escaping a lumpy braid to form a blond halo around her face. Her cheeks were flushed with pride as she grinned broadly.
I launched myself at her, wrapping my arms around her slim shoulders and squeezing for all I was worth.
Daisy sputtered. “Rose. Thank you for the congratulations, but I can’t breathe.”
“Congratulations?” I recoiled. I balled my fists. “I am not congratulating you. You had me worried sick.”
Behind me, Lady Dunlop cleared her throat. “Perhaps you’d all care to read the rest of these out on the back terrace.”
A steady stream of guests, including Francine and Hartfell’s forms, slipped past the two of us as they left the room. Francine gave Daisy’s hand a squeeze as she passed. Mary sent her a glower. Rage beat at my breast, frantic to get out. I quaked with the force. How dare she trot back in here with a smile, without a care for the anguish she’d put us through.
When the last person departed, I glared at Lady Dunlop’s nephew until he left us alone. With a shake of my head, I spat, “How could you?”
Daisy’s mouth dropped open in affront. Tears filmed over her eyes. “What do you mean? I thought you would be happy for me.”
“Happy that you decided on a whim to marry some man you’ve just met? With not a whit of guidance from anyone other than your fickle senses? You left on a stormy night when you might have been killed.”
“It wasn’t so—”
“I’m not done.” I snapped my fingers in front of her face.
She quivered, her mouth pursing to a thin line. The color drained from her cheeks.
“You left me no note, no notion that you intended to return, and no means of contacting you, wherever you’d gone.”
“I went to Gretna Green with—”
“I know that now!”
I turned my back. My hands shook. I fisted them. The rustle of sound indicated Daisy stepped closer. I whirled on her.
“I didn’t have a single scrap of evidence to support that you still lived. What would you have had me tell Mama? You’re supposed to be old enough to make your own decisions, but now I see that you are nothing more than a child.”
Daisy flinched. Tears streaked down her cheeks. Her nose and eyes reddened. “But Rose, I’m in love…surely you, of all people, can understand that?”
“You’re sixteen years old, Daisy.” I slashed my hand through the air. “At sixteen, I fancied myself in love with Violet’s fiancé. It isn’t real.”
“Of course it is.” Daisy stamped her foot. “Just because you’re as fickle as the wind doesn’t mean I can’t form a meaningful and lasting connection. I’m married now, Rose. You’d best check your jealousy and come to terms with it.”
I gritted my teeth. “I am not jealous of you. I care for you. I worried for you. Apparently, I shouldn’t have bothered.”
Without another word, I stormed from the room.
“Won’t you talk to your sister?” Emily pleaded as she tied off the end of my braid with a pink ribbon.
“No.” My voice was just as hard and cutting as it had been when I’d confronted Daisy last night. She deserved every last reprimand. How could she have run off and done this to us? Done this to herself?
I remembered falling in love at sixteen. With the man Violet later married. He never returned my feelings, but I’d fancied myself in love with him anyway. It had broken my heart to see Violet married to him. But, with time, my heart had healed, and I’d realized that it had all been in my head.
What would happen to Daisy when she realized the very same thing? She wouldn’t have anyone’s shoulder to cry on, then. She was married—and no doubt had consummated the marriage as well. Why else would a gentleman prod her to get married right at that moment without a care for propriety or reading the banns, or even asking her father’s permission? Now that she’d made her rash decision, she had to live with it for the rest of
her life.
Mama would blame me, for good reason. Hell and damnation, I was supposed to get married by the end of this house party, not her!
Emily straightened the bodice of my traveling dress. “You brooded all night. Shouldn’t you both apologize and put this behind you? You can’t change it.”
No, I couldn’t. But she didn’t deserve congratulations for a silly, foolish decision that had nothing to do with reality. I lifted my chin. “I’ll apologize to her once she apologizes to me.”
Emily sighed. She knew that would be a long time coming, if ever.
I met Francine and Mary outside the door, both dressed for travel. Mary, I imagined, must have packed her own valise because she had it in hand despite the young footman who tried to take it from her.
“Am I not capable of carrying my own things?”
“Certainly, you are, miss, as you’ve shown. But won’t it be easier if I just take that from you…”
“No.” Mary turned her back to him, holding the handle of the valise with both hands as she propped it in front of her. Her carrying case was half the size of the one I had brought with me, but she turned red in the face with the exertion of hefting it. Even so, her gaze held an edge of determination that warned that no one should cross her.
I decided not to butt into the conversation.
Francine laid her hand on the footman’s sleeve and said gently, “If you’ll check with my maid, Pauline, I’m sure my trunk is ready to be carried downstairs.”
The harried footman glanced at Mary one last time, then gave up on her and went to fetch Francine’s case instead.
The three of us descended to the bottom of the steps, Mary with some difficulty. I pretended not to notice. She’d get offended if I pointed it out, or worse, tried to help. By the time we reached the bottom, she set down the case for a moment.
“We should have some breakfast before leaving,” Francine pointed out. “Lunch is likely a long time away.”
On that point, she was right. We ate quickly, and I wrapped a few sausage-and-egg pasties in my handkerchief. I passed them over to Emily as she descended the stairs behind the footman, who now hefted my carrying case. He left through the door.
How to Play the Game of Love (Ladies of Passion) Page 22
