Lila found the oil and pulled out the cork, then turned over one wrist and let a single drop of the oil drip onto her skin. With the fingers of her other hand she rubbed the oil in, then raised it to her face. Strong, but perhaps not strong enough. She placed another drop on her other wrist and rubbed both wrists together, but still worried it was not strong enough. Knowing time was short—Mr. Luthford was likely waiting for her even now—she lifted the skirt of her dress and let a drip fall onto the petticoat underneath where she would not have to worry about an oil stain. She let another drop fall, and then another. She put a drop behind each ear, one at the base of her neck, and still another on the cords of her reticule before putting some oil on her fingers and running her hands through her hair left down today. She paused in her application to assess the level of scent and took a deep inhale. Her lungs seized, and she coughed several times as tears came to her eyes. The oil was certainly pungent, but that was exactly what she needed. She replaced the stopper and put the bottle back into the wardrobe, then walked regally out of her room and down the stairs, rather proud of her quick thinking.
The faithful butler had been waiting for her and opened the door as she reached the main level.
“Mr. Luthford is awaiting you out front. Have a very good afternoon.” His voice increased in pitch toward the end, and he quickly lifted a hand to cover a cough.
Lila pretended not to notice but felt the misgivings. “Thank you, Wilhite,” she said with a stiff smile while rapidly blinking her eyes in hopes to clear them. She hoped it did not look as though she were crying, but she began to worry she’d overdone things. Mr. Luthford was standing next to the carriage, waiting for her. He smiled and, so help her, she smiled back.
“Good day, Mr. Luthford,” she said as she descended the porch steps, watching the stairs carefully so her blurred vision didn’t lead her to disaster.
“Good day, Miss Grange,” he said when she reached him. He put out his hand to help her into the carriage but as he was handing her up, he paused, his hand still holding hers and enveloping her fingers in a warmth that made Lila very uncomfortable in a very comfortable sort of way. His brow furrowed slightly, and she braced herself for him to ask why she smelled so strongly of a scent gentlemen did not prefer.
“Are you well, Miss Grange?” he asked instead.
She blinked rapidly. “Yes, I am very well.” The stench of lavender was choking her.
“Are you certain? If we should postpone this tour, I can wait for your uncle to escort me.”
Was he trying to get out of the tour because she smelled so badly? She could not waste this opportunity. “No, I am happy to be your guide,” she said, watching his eyes closely. She coughed behind her free hand.
His eyes did not seem to be affected, and he had not coughed even once. When he spoke, his voice was all kindness and sincerity. “Are you very certain?”
“I am very certain,” she repeated with a smile she was surprised to realize she meant—a little bit at least. She did want to be with him, but she convinced herself it was because she would surely turn him away once and for all with this ride. Once in the carriage she took the seat facing forward—as a woman always did when riding alone with a gentleman. Mr. Luthford stepped in behind her, taking his place behind the driver. The carriage moved forward, and Lila realized, too late, that with her sitting here and him sitting there, she would be downwind. If their places were reversed, the movement of air around the carriage would keep him in a veritable cloud of the stink, but etiquette prevented that from happening, and so he would remain unaffected and she would have to fight the urge to cover her nose—or vomit. What’s more, Mr. Luthford had not seemed to even notice the wretched smell. How could that be?
“You look very well, Miss Grange,” Mr. Luthford said as the carriage began toward the heart of the village.
“Thank you,” she said, catching herself just in time before she complimented him in return. He did not dress flamboyantly, but there was a quality of his dress she found appealing—masculine and confident without attempts to distract from the man himself.
“Are you sure you feel up to this tour?” he said, looking at her with concern.
“I am very well, Mr. Luthford,” she said, wishing he would stop asking. “Only, I am a bit concerned over the political climate of our nation after this last session of Parliament.”
Mr. Luthford smiled—a true, sincere, and interested smile. “I’m afraid I haven’t followed British politics very closely these last years. I would be grateful if you might fill me in, so that should a discussion at some event or another turn to that topic I won’t make a complete cake of myself.”
Chapter Seven
“Oh my goodness,” Eloise said as she helped Lila out of her dress later that afternoon. “I can barely breathe.”
“I understand,” Lila said, trying to help. “I have felt just the same for the last three hours!”
Lila could have asked Katherine for help, but was too humiliated to admit what she’d done. So while taking lunch at Burns & Patter, she had sent a note to Eloise, asking her to meet at Franklyn Farm at two o’clock. She then made certain Mr. Luthford returned her in time to meet her friend, who she whisked up to her room. While Eloise undid the straps and ties from behind, Lila gave her an overview of the afternoon.
“You’d have thought I smelled of nothing for all the notice he paid to it, and then, toward the end, he mentioned that he’d fallen from his horse once, a few years into his training—not Gordon, a different, difficult horse—and that his sense of smell had been affected by the injury.” Lila shook her head, grateful to wriggle out of the dress and petticoat that stunk to high heaven. “The entire escapade was completely wasted!”
She stepped out of the fabric pooled at her feet, still dressed in her shift and high stays, and picked up both items from the floor, wrinkling her nose. “I didn’t put any oil directly on the dress, but it smells as if I did. I hope I haven’t ruined it.”
“Set it over the windowsill,” Eloise said, hurrying to open the window. “Perhaps we can air it out before you have to explain to Katherine what happened, though I suppose you could tell her you spilled the oil.”
“I could tell her that,” Lila said after arranging the clothing over the windowsill. Then she moved to her bed and fell face down on the coverlet. The landing was not a soft one, but she deserved every moment of discomfort. She turned her head to the side to look at Eloise. “Then I can be a liar as well as a complete dolt.” She closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the day, and rolled onto her back. “Oh, Eloise, I have never felt so ridiculous in my life. At Burns & Patter, everyone was trying to determine what the smell was until realizing it was from our table. I’m certain my face was bright red every minute we were there, and my food even tasted like lavender. It was nothing but sheer stubbornness that kept me from retching.” She placed a hand on her stomach, which was still queasy, and raised her other arm up to cover her eyes. The movement brought with it the continued smell of the blasted lavender rubbed into her wrist, and she sat up, bracing herself on her elbows. “What if I can’t get the smell out?”
“Of the dress?” Eloise asked, glancing toward the dress and petticoat now hanging half in and half out of the window.
“Of my skin,” Lila said. “I rubbed it into my wrists, my neck, hair, behind my ears.”
“I think you will have to take a bath with copious amounts of soap,” Eloise said with a frown. “And I don’t believe I can be much assistance with that. Shall I call your maid?”
Lila closed her eyes, then nodded in surrender. A bath in the middle of the day—how ridiculous.
Eloise pulled the cord, then came to sit on the bench at the foot of the bed. “Besides the unfortunate lavender portion, what was the rest of the afternoon like?”
“Fine,” she said, then reconsidered and gave Eloise a look of surrender. “Quite lovely, actually. Because of the list, I introduced the topic of politics in hope to put him off, and he wante
d to hear more. I was never so grateful for having read the morning papers and listening to Uncle’s conversations as I was today. When I couldn’t eat another bite of food, I explained that my stomach was sour, and he was not repulsed, only concerned. When we left Burns & Patter, he had me wait in the carriage long enough for him to slip into a sweet shop and buy me a peppermint to ease my discomfort—which I certainly needed by that point. I did my best to educate him about the village and its people to the point of sharing gossip I’m embarrassed to have repeated, but he was quite interested to know the comings and goings of people, so it didn’t feel like gossip at all, only introducing him to the ways of our community. He ended up talking about his time in India—where he was first posted—and I couldn’t help but ask questions, which he answered with such detail that I am now quite sure my life will never be complete if I do not see an elephant in real life.” She paused and shook her head. “Can you imagine seeing an elephant, Eloise, in its own habitat? And dark-skinned people who chant their prayers to a different God than we worship in church each Sunday?”
“You were supposed to only talk about yourself.”
“I know!” Lila threw up her hands. “I tried, so help me, I did, but it is yet one more way in which I failed. He was so very attentive, so interested in what I did have to say, and then so generous with his own tales that if not for the stinking lavender oil I’d have forgotten my objective completely. I have bungled this entire ordeal.”
There was a light knock at the door before Katherine entered. She took three steps into the room and stopped. Whether her surprise was to find Lila dressed only in her corset and chemise with Eloise right there, or the skirts of Lila’s dress and petticoat hanging down from the windowsill, or the fact that the room smelled like a field of lavender, Lila would never know. Probably all three things had her confused. Lila rose from the bed and smiled as best she could though she felt humiliated all over again. “I am so sorry, Katherine, and I know you have other tasks to accomplish at this time of day, but I am in desperate need of a bath, and I’m afraid I might need to soak my dress for a week in hopes it can recover.”
“Recover from what, miss?”
“Recover from my own stupidity,” she said with a sigh. Lila turned to Eloise. “I best let you return home, Eloise, but thank you for helping me.”
“Of course,” Eloise said. She turned to the door but then turned back. “Have you reconsidered pursuing this course, Lila?”
Lila took a breath while Katherine began to work on the stays that, even though they had been untouched by the oil, had managed to soak up the scent—as had every other item Lila wore. “Honestly, Eloise, I don’t know what to do. I am madly in love with Neville, yet I find Mr. Luthford increasingly intriguing. Never mind my attempts to discourage his interest have not seemed to have worked in the least. He’s asked me to go riding tomorrow—to prove to me Gordon’s appeal.”
“Did you agree?”
Katherine hesitated to remove the stay, what with Eloise right there, but Lila tugged at it enough that the maid finally removed it, leaving Lila in only her chemise. She frowned. “I agreed to meet him right after breakfast, and I don’t think I can gamble or drink or any of those terrible things I haven’t done yet.” Katherine inhaled sharply, but Lila ignored it. “Eloise,” she said as though confessing something deep and terrible. “I want him to think well of me. I want his good opinion.”
“What of his age?”
“Should it matter so much?” Lila lifted her arms as Katherine helped her put on her dressing gown, which Lila wrapped around herself. “I find myself thinking of other marriages with such discrepancies, and they do not seem any worse for it. I believe Uncle Peter was nearly ten years older than Aunt Gaylene, and they got on beautifully. I wonder why I didn’t think on that before.”
Katherine cleared her throat. “I shall get the water heated and return with the basin.”
“Thank you, Katherine,” Lila said as the maid left the room.
“Could you love a man who is not handsome?” Eloise asked when they were alone again.
“He is handsome,” Lila said. “Just in a different sort of way than I imagined; he does not even appear as brooding as I initially thought he did. And the way he looks at me as though I alone hold every bit of his attention... and the way he smiles with half his mouth.” Remembering it sent a shiver through her. “I am a failure in this design, Eloise.”
“Perhaps you should simply be at ease with this, then,” Eloise suggested. “Maybe he is not a demon set to beguile you away from Neville, but is here to show you a better place for your affections.”
“The idea of not loving Neville makes me feel cut in half,” Lila said, crossing her arms. “But playing this game with Mr. Luthford is beginning to feel exactly the same way. I don’t know what to do.”
Eloise gave her a sympathetic smile. “Perhaps it is times like this that we give ourselves up to fate and simply let be whatever will be. It is never a good idea to ignore the stirrings of one’s heart.”
Lila let out a sigh, but with it went a great deal of fear and reservation. Give up the plan she had made to thwart Mr. Luthford’s attention and simply be herself? Be free to ask questions about his time abroad and enjoy his company with her whole heart? The idea was so overwhelmingly appealing she knew she could take no other course. But it was not a course without risk. “What if he falls in love with me after all?”
“I beg your pardon, Lila,” Eloise said with a raised eyebrow. “But I think you need to give equal consideration to what will happen if you fall in love with him.”
Chapter Eight
Lila scrubbed each place on her body where she’d put the oil until she feared she would take the skin right off. She washed her hair twice, and Katherine took the dress and petticoat to the kitchen where she said she would soak them in vinegar overnight before laundering in hopes to save the items.
By the time dinner was announced, Lila could still smell the lavender, but it was no longer making her ill. She dressed in a navy blue dinner dress and had Katherine be extra attentive to her hair in hopes of making up for the spectacle she’d been that afternoon. Not that Mr. Luthford had noticed, seeing as how his nose did not work right. The odds of such a thing! If nothing else, she needed to give the extra attention to make herself feel worthy of his company. Perhaps he would not know she was trying to repair her deficit, but she would and she hoped presenting her best self would ease her fractured opinion of herself.
She did not remember that they had dinner guests until she entered the parlor to find Mrs. Mason with Mr. and Mrs. Marchett and their youngest daughter, Jenny. The Marchetts were dear family friends and the hosts of next week’s masquerade ball—an event that had become less important to Lila as Mr. Luthford had overtaken her thoughts. The very man of those thoughts, dressed in a black evening coat and shiny black breeches that looked as fine as anything she’d ever seen before, was there too, and she smiled at him. Not having to keep to her wretched plan put her at greater ease with herself and his company, which was a relief.
Uncle Peter joined them just before they went to the dining room. Mrs. Mason was seated beside Mr. Luthford on the opposite end of the table, and Lila tried not to look their direction too often. Though she could not hear what they said, Mrs. Mason smiled a great deal, and Mr. Luthford seemed as easy with her as he’d ever been with Lila. By the end of the meal she was only too happy to get Mrs. Mason away from the table. When the men joined them, Jenny entertained them at the pianoforte while the adults conversed about the room. Mr. Marchett was aware of some property in Longdon, and the men began discussing how Mr. Luthford might best go about seeing it. This left the women to talk amongst themselves, which they did with the ease of women who had known each other all their lives. At one point the men moved into Uncle’s study to consult a county map, and though Lila had resisted the temptation to pry when the women had been alone earlier, she could no longer hold back her questions for Mrs. Mason.
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“What do you think of Mr. Luthford?”
“He seems kind,” Mrs. Mason said with a smile. “And a very good conversationalist.”
“Yes, he has so many exciting stories,” Lila agreed, though she hated that he’d shared those stories with Mrs. Mason, who seemed very undeserving of the attention. Never mind it was Lila’s idea to invite the attractive widow.
“Only...” Mrs. Mason said, letting her voice drift off as though thinking better of what she was about to say.
“Only what?” Lila said, hiding her eagerness to hear the answer.
“Only, I sense a certain restlessness in him,” she said. “As though he is resigned to this change in his circumstance but not fully glad for it.”
“Really?” Mrs. Marchett said. “Did he not give up his commission of his own volition?”
“That is what he said,” Mrs. Mason confirmed. “But he said it with such necessary acceptance. Why, I had the impression he would prefer to remain abroad.”
“Surely he could, if that is what he wished,” Mrs. Marchett said. “Many military men marry, and their wives either follow the drum or set up in some port city nearby. Why, my brother’s wife traveled with him for a great many years. She lived on a ship for six months and in a grass hut for almost nine.”
“What a wonderful adventure that would be,” Lila said, seduced by the image of such a life. It took a moment to realize the other women were looking at her in confusion. “Do you not sometimes long to experience a life different than the one you live?”
Timeless Regency Collection: Autumn Masquerade Page 4
