“You wax poetic, Sir James. I did not know you owned such a romantic soul.”
Sir James met her eyes, baring his emotions for her and not caring who else saw so long as she did. “It would seem that after all our years as neighbors, and, dare I say, friends, there is much we may still learn about each other."
5
Games and Gauntlets
As Cornelia returned indoors from an afternoon of lawn games and flirtatious maneuverings, she could not deny that Sir James had come off the indisputable victor in their unspoken contest. With very little difficulty, he had avoided any attempt Cornelia made to throw him together with Miss Easton. Quite out of charity with him, she was determined to be revenged on him at last.
The ladies had all retired to rest before dressing for dinner, but Cornelia had other plans. Hurrying to the drawing room window that overlooked the west lawn, she saw Sir James lingering in the shade with a group of gentlemen. Seeing him so happily engaged, she felt confident that he would not return inside for some time.
She went to her usual chair in the corner and retrieved her sewing basket, then hastened to Sir James’ room.
Ensuring that she was alone, she closed the door and saw that his man had laid out his evening clothes. Picking up his coat, she sat on a chair and threaded her needle with matching thread. With tiny stitches, she sewed the sleeves closed. Her work was so precise, the stitches were impossible to see and would be difficult to cut out again.
Pleased with the result, she gathered the rest of his coats and did the same to each of them. When she was done, she knew that either Sir James or his man would likely come along soon, so she put away her needle and returned everything to where she had found it. Hanging the last coat back in his wardrobe, she imagined his reaction and chuckled softly.
As she closed the door to the wardrobe, a whirl of scent surrounded her, bergamot and citrus. It transported her back to the time she had twisted her ankle while walking home from church and Sir James had lifted her into his carriage and driven her home.
Her throat tightened and she spun away, feeling as if she’d been pierced to the core.
“We shall see how quickly you dress for dinner tonight.” But her whispered words did not soothe the aching deep inside her. She picked up her basket and fled to the door, closing it softly behind her.
Sir James was indeed late for dinner, and as he walked into the dining room, she looked for clues as to his reaction. His expression was well-ordered and he did not so much as glance at her as he walked over to the Countess, bowing and speaking softly. With a sudden pang of anxiety, Cornelia wondered what he was saying. Surely… surely, he would not be so cruel as to expose the prank to her employer.
But as he walked to his seat, the Countess turned back to her conversation with Sir George who sat on her left. He had not betrayed her.
Sir James passed behind Cornelia’s chair on the way to his own, and she turned to look at him over her shoulder. He glanced down with such a look of amusement, she nearly laughed. Which made her angrier than ever.
She hated that he had such power to sway her emotions. He had always been able to do so, but now that she was no longer in love with him, surely his ability to influence her feelings should diminish.
After dinner, she sat with Miss Townshend by the fire while the other guests ranged themselves around the room playing cards or enjoying conversation. Several of the gentlemen excused themselves for a game of billiards, and Cornelia knew that certain intrepid guests planned more gothic pursuits this evening. She, however, reveled in the chance to sit quietly, embroidering a handkerchief.
“You are a very accomplished needlewoman, Miss Greystock,” Miss Townshend said.
Cornelia glanced up but turned her attention back to the bluebell she was currently stitching. “Thank you. I enjoy it a great deal. Especially here since Lady Du’Breven is positively frivolous with her use of candles.”
Miss Townshend laughed and set aside the book she had opened on her lap. Cornelia felt a rush of hope that perhaps she might find a friend in the refined and intelligent lady. But before either of them could say another word, Sir James came up to them.
“Good evening, Miss Townshend,” he said sitting down in the chair next to Cornelia’s. “Miss Greystock.”
When he said her name, his voice rang with warmth and humor. Surprised, she looked up at him, then quickly over at Miss Townshend. Sure enough, that lady’s eyes sparkled with a knowing gleam.
“Good evening, Sir James” Miss Townshend said. “Please don’t think me rude, but I should find my father. He did not eat much at dinner and I fear he may have a headache.”
Sir James stood with Miss Townshend, bowing and saying, “Of course.”
As he sat back down again, Cornelia minded her stitches and waited. She did not have to wait long.
“You have always been keen with a needle, Miss Greystock. I have often seen you thus, sitting in front of a fire, staring down at your tambour frame.”
“I’m embroidering handkerchiefs for my sisters. I hoped I might impose on you to deliver them for me when you go home.”
Sir James lifted his arm and stared very hard at the sleeve of his coat. “You know I am your servant to command.”
He reached for the cuff of his coat sleeve, pinched at it and held up a short blue thread, the same color as his jacket. He reached over and dropped it onto her embroidery. It lay there on the white muslin, mocking her. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth to control the smile that threatened and picked up the thread, tossing it into the fire.
“My manservant, Cholt, had a most distressing evening.”
“Did he?” Cornelia asked, maintaining her calm with iron determination.
“Yes. Normally it requires very little work on his part to get me into my coat. Tonight, however, he faced an unaccountable amount of exertion.”
“Oh no. I am so sorry to hear that. I see that he did manage to perform his duties, however.”
“Yes, in the end. Thankfully. I could hardly come down to dinner in my shirt sleeves and waistcoat.”
Wondering what he might look like in such a state caused a flood of color to rush to Cornelia’s cheeks. “That would have been very irregular indeed,” she agreed, keeping her face turned down to her stitching.
“And now, I believe he will be up quite late attending to the remainder of my coats.”
“Too ensure that you do not have similar difficulties tomorrow I apprehend. Poor man. I’ll see that he is sent some sustaining refreshment.”
Sir James chuckled softly. “That would be very generous. I know you have been busy today.”
She looked up at him then, meeting his eyes squarely. “I am always busy. And as you very well know, it is not at all appropriate for you to sit here singling out a mere companion in such a deplorable way.”
“Ah, but we are such old acquaintances.”
“Sir James, I can feel the scald of censorious eyes hot upon my neck. You had best go and direct your considerable charm at some willing young debutant.”
“I had much rather direct it at an unwilling hoyden.”
With a quickly indrawn breath, Cornelia glared at him. Leaning toward him, she whispered, “I am not a hoyden.”
“You certainly are. You always have been, no matter how much you try to hide it under that prim exterior of yours.”
“Prim exterior indeed. I am respectable to my core.”
“Respectable young ladies do not distance themselves from their loving family, leaving them to worry and explain away their absence with visits to fictional aunts. They also do not insult well-meaning gentlemen by showing him that his proposal is so repugnant that a life of servitude is preferable.”
By this point, Cornelia’s bosom heaved, as if she were a dragon about to scorch him with fire. Indeed, she felt hot all over. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner—and in company, when I cannot give you the trimming you deserve!”
“You are stunning when your eyes spark
fire, Cornelia. Did it occur to you while you were so industrially engaged in sewing shut all my coat sleeves that perhaps you might be asking for retribution in kind?”
“I do not know what you are talking about,” she said, putting her tambour frame back into her basket, preparing to retreat from a conversation that had flared out of control.
“I should have suspected something when my room smelled of pears and roses.”
“What?” Cornelia’s mind floundered as she realized that she had indeed dabbed some of her perfume on her wrists that morning.
“Do you know what effect it had upon my senses to find your scent, sweet and mocking, in my bedchamber? I don’t suppose you do, innocent as you are. No, don’t run away, Cornelia. I’ll go.” He stood. “You are playing a deep game, my girl, but I warn you—I am playing a deeper one.”
6
Crossing Swords
As Sir James left his room Sunday morning, he turned to his man-servant and said, “Cholt, please open the windows in here and give the room a good airing today.”
Attempting to hide his surprise, Cholt bowed. “Yes, sir.”
“Thank you.”
Sir James could not spend another night with Cornelia’s scent still hovering about him. His impatience to take her to wife was difficult enough without the torment of dreams inspired by such a stirring of his senses.
He had always been a man of action and, today, he was determined to turn tables on Cornelia. Propriety and manners had not helped him to win her heart. Well, there was certainly nothing proper about his plan for today.
He needed only to ask a favor from the Countess to put his plan into action. He had long since realized that she had invited him to this house party for the express purpose of throwing him together with her personal companion. How she had come to know of his failed proposal was a mystery, but no doubt she would prove a willing and capable ally.
Throughout the morning, as many of the other guests set off to attend church, Sir James hung back in one of the morning rooms with the London paper. It held only mild interest for him for across the room, Cornelia sat at a table with the Countess. He did not know what they were busy at, but several times, he caught Cornelia looking at him when she thought he wasn’t attending. Hiding his smile behind the paper, his heart lightened to know he had the lady’s attention.
The Countess cleared her throat. “Miss Greystock, will you please ensure that all of the elder guests who are going to church are accommodated in the carriages?
“Yes, my lady.”
Sir James couldn’t help but watch Cornelia leave the room with her customary grace, allowing his eyes to linger on her familiar features, which grew ever more pleasing to him.
“Sir James, you may stop pretending to read that paper now.”
Smiling, James set it aside and went across the room to his hostess. Kissing the back of her upheld hand, he felt the slightest age-tremor in her fingertips, but as always, he was impressed with her rigid posture and keen eyes. “Your most obedient, my lady.”
“Are you indeed? Then I suppose I may command you to tell me what has passed between you and Miss Greystock. She is all aflutter.”
“Not wishing to betray the woman I love, I shall only say that we have been crossing swords and it is my turn to go on the attack.”
“You are singularly candid about your feelings this morning.”
“Considering your perception on the matter, it seems unnecessary for me to dissemble—especially since the balance of my future happiness lies in making the most of my remaining days here.”
“I infer then that you desire my assistance. Why else would you be hanging about my drawing room?”
Deciding to come right to the point, Sir James met her eyes squarely. “Will you think of some excuse to send Miss Greystock along the road to the village in an hour’s time?”
“For what purpose, Sir James?”
“Why, so that she may spend the afternoon enjoying the splendors of a fine summer day.”
The Countess gave a humph and laughed. “You mean the splendors of your no doubt charming advances.”
“Let us hope. How would you rate my chances, dear lady?”
With an amused smile, The Countess allowed her eyes to sweep over him. “I would say they are very good indeed, if you can overcome her missish nonsense. I suppose I shall have to pretend I know nothing about this.” Then sighing, she said, “Will you please come and let me know how it goes between you? Of all my schemes, this one is the very dearest to my heart.”
“Then we are of like mind. I will indeed report, my lady. After all, if we are to be accomplices, we must have open communication between us. Now, I must go before she returns.”
Bowing to the Countess, Sir James strode away, anxious to be about the business of laying his trap. He was certain Cornelia had enjoyed stitching up his coat sleeves, but he was determined they would both enjoy his afternoon of revenge.
* * *
Leaning against an ancient oak tree, well back from the road where it made a turn to the south, Sir James smiled as Cornelia appeared on her way back to the manor. He wondered what errand the Countess had found to send her on, but from the basket she carried, it was likely an errand of charity. Wellington trotted along at her side, his tongue lolling out as he panted with the exertion of a gentle stroll. He had hoped she would use the opportunity to give the pug his exercise.
Treading carefully, to avoid making noise by rustling the underbrush, Sir James slipped further back into the trees and whistled. It wasn’t long before he heard a scrambling racket through the brush, such as an overweight dog might make. Stepping behind a wide tree trunk, Sir James whistled again and was pleased when Wellington came right to him.
“Wellington,” Cornelia called. Her voice held a note of concern, but when Wellington yipped at her and she found him sitting quite unharmed, her expression relaxed. When Sir James moved around the tree to show himself, however, she jumped.
“It’s only me,” he said soothingly.
Her breathing was labored as she pressed her hand to her bosom. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you to come along so I could steal you away.”
Her brows twitched together. “Stop teasing me.”
“I promise I’m not. You know, you really shouldn’t walk out alone.”
“Why not? I’m not some young miss with expectations, but an employed spinster.”
“That relieves me greatly. Added to the fact that we are childhood friends, I am now confident that all the proprieties will be met. Well, if not precisely, at least no one shall know I have kidnapped you anyway.”
“Please be serious. I must return.”
Sir James stepped forward then and grasped the ribbon of her bonnet. With one tug, it untied, and he plucked it from her head. “You cannot return without your bonnet.”
“Give that to me,” she cried, reaching out for it.
Lifting her bonnet above her reach, he lodged it between two branches. “In due time. I need to ensure you won’t go running off home.” He plucked the basket from her loosened grasp and looped the handle over a branch above her head as well.”
“But…but what are you doing?”
Taking her hand, he led her deeper into the trees. “I am going to spend the afternoon with you, my darling. Everyone has gone to church and I hear there is some outing or other planned for later, so I do not think you will be missed for quite some time.”
“Don’t call me darling. And I don’t wish to spend the afternoon with you.”
He nodded somberly. “That is why I must kidnap you, of course. I didn’t expect you to admit that you want nothing more than to be alone with me.”
She stopped, stock still, and pulled her hand away from his. “You, sir, are—”
“Madly determined,” he interrupted, trying to keep from smiling as he caught her hand again. This time, he held her wrist loosely, pleased when she did not pull away, and slipped her glove off h
er hand. He draped it over another high branch. Unable to resist, he held her bare hand a moment before letting it go.
This time she laughed. “You are being utterly ridiculous. As if taking my bonnet and glove would keep me from returning home.”
“No?” he said. He moved quickly and claimed her other glove, draping it alongside its fellow. “But the proper Miss Greystock wouldn’t go anywhere without them. Just imagine the speculation that would arise as to how she had lost them.”
“Nonsense.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Wellington, it appears that I must endeavor further.” He took her hand again and she resisted not at all as he led her further. They soon emerged from the woods onto a narrow strip of land rimmed with a low stone wall that ran along the crest of a hill like a crown.
She ran forward, resting her hands on the sun-warmed stones, and stood as if spellbound. Before them stretched vast acres of farmland, each crop marked out like patches on the landscape. In the far distance, more hills rose like green waves against the cloudless, azure sky.
“Cornelia, if I may,” he asked.
Turning around, she tilted her head. “What?”
Catching her about the waist, he sat her up on the wall and drew off her kid boots. He tossed them a good distance away, each in a different direction. As he threw the first, Wellington jumped into action, enthusiastic for a game he knew well, but Sir James called him back. “Stay.”
Wellington sat and looked up at him with disconsolate eyes.
“Have you gone mad?” Cornelia asked.
He noted a brightness in her eyes that had not been there before and a certain bubbling warmth in her tone that hinted at laughter barely held in check.
“I have been mad for a great while now. Would you like to go exploring with me? There is a folly nearby with an ugly statue of Hercules.”
“But I cannot go anywhere without shoes.”
“As if I have not seen you go barefoot any number of times.”
The Unwanted Suitor: Regency House Party: Somerstone Page 4
