The Wedding Season

by Deborah Hale

  Mr. Lindsey stood and shook his hand, the picture of graciousness. “No harm done.” His wry grin added to his charm. “Philip Lindsey.”

  “James Moberly. Jamie, to my friends.” He tilted his head toward Papa and grinned. “A bother to the captain.”

  “Sit down, boy,” Papa said, “or you’ll be swabbing the deck for the next forty years.”

  Jamie gave him a mock salute, sat down and dug into his breakfast.

  The family banter must have soothed whatever offense Jamie caused, for Mr. Lindsey relaxed back into his chair.

  To Elizabeth’s relief, Jamie and Papa engaged their guest in discussions of horses and fencing and their tailors, relieving her of any obligation to join the conversation. Which, of course, gave her the opportunity to further observe the man. But much to her chagrin, she could not find one fault in his speech or deportment or opinions. And it did not help her cause to see Mama watching the gentleman with rapt attention, that sly smile etched across her lips which Elizabeth had not seen since her older sister met the man who was now her fiancé.

  Chapter Six

  “Some say one horse is as good as another.” Jamie Moberly waved his fork in the air for emphasis before shoving a bite of egg into his mouth. “But I’ve got a gallant colt I want to run in the derby.” He glanced at his father.

  “We’ll see.” The twinkle in the captain’s eyes even as his dark eyebrows bent into a frown caused Philip to long for the days when his own father had gently prodded him toward manhood.

  “I say, Lindsey.” Jamie nudged Philip. “How about a ride? We can take the girls and go out to the Roman ruins. What do you say?”

  Philip had spent the last few days riding hard to get here, and the last thing he wanted was to get back on a horse. But both young ladies voiced their agreement, and all eyes fell on him. Once again, he felt this family’s warmth reaching out to include him.

  “Sounds like just the thing.” He could hardly reject an opportunity to spend more time with Miss Elizabeth.

  “I’ll tell Cook to prepare a picnic.” Mrs. Moberly seemed oddly eager about the event, for she smiled most charmingly at Philip. “You can go ahead and take your ride, and I’ll send the basket out to the ruins in the early afternoon.”

  With all in accord, they had only to dress for the outing. While the ladies scurried away to don their riding dresses, Jamie offered Philip his older, taller brother’s clothes. Never one for fashion, Philip generally left all to his valet. But until Wilkes arrived in a day or two, he must make do with the generosity of his hosts for fresh clothing.

  The cutaway black coat fit him well, but the buckskin breeches felt rather snug, indicating they’d been recently purchased. Philip hoped Jamie was right when he said his brother Richard wouldn’t mind his wearing them, for leather clothes once stretched couldn’t be shrunk without being ruined.

  Properly dressed, the party met outside the front door. Miss Elizabeth made a pretty picture in her rose wool habit adorned with gold and black embroidery. Her matching beaver hat, perched atop her shiny golden curls, sported a small spray of black feathers held fast by a gold broach with a pink tourmaline at its center.

  Miss Prudence wore a similar habit of moss green, but it was a bit frayed at the edges. Philip surmised she was a poorer relation, yet her cousins’ courtesy toward her gave no hint of a lower status. Such behavior elevated them all in Philip’s estimation. This truly was an extraordinary family. Although he couldn’t entirely let down his defenses, his earlier wariness was slipping away as he spent more time with this merry little band.

  Two grooms brought around four excellent beasts that seemed as ready for an excursion as their riders. They nickered and pranced around as if impatient to begin.

  “Jamie, will you help me?” Miss Prudence beckoned to her cousin.

  “Of course.” He proceeded to lift her into the saddle.

  With the grooms busy steadying the horses, Philip realized where his duty lay.

  “May I assist you, Miss Elizabeth?”

  She appeared somewhat startled, and her cheeks took on a pink shade that matched her dress. “Why, yes. I thank you, sir.”

  The instant Philip gripped her waist and lifted her, the scent of her rose perfume reached his nose, and his pulse quickened. The two of them easily managed the maneuver, like a well-executed dance they’d performed together a hundred times before.

  Seated upon her sidesaddle, she looped one leg over the pommel and gripped the reins with tanned gloves. Taking her left black half boot in hand, Philip settled her foot in its stirrup. A mild shock bolted up his arm at the contact, and he quickly withdrew his hand, appalled at his own reaction. Yes, the lady was attractive, but this was not the time to notice such things, not when Lucy’s case remained unsettled.

  “I thank you,” she repeated, this time rather breathlessly, and gave him a nod to confirm she was seated comfortably. Indeed, the lady presented the very image of an accomplished rider.

  His admiration for her growing, Philip forced his gaze away from the vision before he made a ninny of himself.

  As Elizabeth guided Juno along the woodland path, she felt Mr. Lindsey’s gaze on her. A quick glance behind her confirmed it, and warmth crept into her cheeks. This simply would not do. Should he continue to show such interest and good manners, her resolve might weaken.

  When he’d helped her onto the horse, his grip on her waist had been all that was proper, yet her spine had tingled pleasantly. Even now, the echo of that sensation skittered across her shoulders. If only she could find something else to focus on. The familiar landscape provided just the answer.

  Sunlight filtered through the trees and sparkled on the remaining drops of last night’s rain still clinging to shadowed leaves. The narrow stream beside the path rushed over rocks and branches, whispering its secrets to the passersby. The breeze carried the fragrance of rich soil and growing things from the field beyond the woods, mingling with the smell of horseflesh and leather, a perfume to Elizabeth.

  When Jamie had suggested this excursion, her love of riding had betrayed her resolution to avoid Mr. Lindsey. Elizabeth found nothing quite so diverting as wandering the countryside on horseback in the summer—not even dancing. If she loved anything as much as riding, it was exploring Roman ruins, even the familiar ones on Bennington lands, for the workers there continued to excavate and find more artifacts. She’d heard of Roman sites in Gloucestershire, large settlements and buildings left by those ancient conquerors of Britain. What a delight it would be to see them. Surely Mr. Lindsey knew all about them. She was certain he would be an excellent guide.

  Oh, my. There I go again.

  If a true distraction did not come across her path soon, the gentleman might take up residence in the part of her brainbox that engendered attraction. Oh, how she must guard her heart against this man’s charms, his unconscious charms. For surely he had done nothing overt to draw her interest.

  She glanced back and saw Mr. Lindsey leaning over to speak to Pru, who rode beside him. They both laughed. An odd twinge tickled Elizabeth’s insides, but she dismissed it. Pru was thoroughly smitten with another worthy gentleman, one who had no objections to her small dowry. One whom Elizabeth longed to prompt to begin his suit before someone else snatched her beloved cousin away.

  She dismissed her matchmaking thoughts, for ahead lay their destination and her favorite view of the countryside.

  “Ah, here we are.” Jamie, riding at the front, waved his crop toward the upcoming clearing. “Looks like someone else had the same idea.”

  As they rode out into the opening, Elizabeth stifled a gasp but not because of the view. There on the stone remnants of a Roman wall sat Di with two young gentlemen. Beyond them, under a canopy, three servants tended a long table laden with picnic fare.

  A quick perusal of the area revealed that Sophie and Mr. Whitson were not among those present, and Elizabeth relaxed. She recognized one gentlemen as Di’s cousin on her mother’s side. Although
it had been some years since she had seen Lord Chiselton, she could not be more pleased. He was exactly what she needed to take her mind off Mr. Lindsey. At ten, she had vowed to marry the viscount, who was five years her senior and possessed the title in his own right. It was not too late to revive her girlish dream.

  “Beth! Pru! James!” Di stood and waved. “Do join us.”

  Mr. Lindsey drew his horse up between Jamie and Elizabeth. “Perhaps I should return to Devon Hall.” His frown conveyed regret but no hostility.

  “Nonsense.” Jamie dismounted and surrendered his reins to a groom who had come to the site with the other servants. “No one here will be offended by your presence.” He chuckled. “I think they’d rather like to meet someone bold enough to interrupt a Bennington wedding.”

  Mr. Lindsey grimaced in a rueful fashion, and Elizabeth reached out to touch his arm. “Do stay, Mr. Lindsey.” Once again she betrayed herself, but more to cover for Jamie’s brashness than because she truly wanted Mr. Lindsey here. Well, she did not wish him to leave, but—

  Oh, do be quiet, she ordered her silly heart.

  “I thank you, Miss Elizabeth. This outing is indeed helpful in keeping my mind occupied.” He dismounted and came around her horse to help her down.

  Once again, his warm, strong hands on her waist sent a pleasant chill up her back. The ease with which he lifted her down brought forth an unplanned sigh. To cover it, she coughed.

  “Are you well, Miss Elizabeth?” His eyebrows dipped into a frown, enhancing his appealing features. An agreeable warmth filled her cheeks.

  “I am well, thank you.”

  No, I am anything but well.

  With all the determination she could muster, she turned away from him and strode toward Lord Chiselton.

  Chapter Seven

  “We will not stand on formalities,” Lord Chiselton said after presentations had been made. His smile seemed to invite friendship that transcended rank.

  Yet Philip’s first assessment of the man hadn’t been favorable. Perhaps it was due to the warm welcome extended to the viscount by Miss Elizabeth. A foolish reaction, of course, especially when he learned from their brief conversation that she’d known the man when she was but a child. Thus, her enthusiasm upon seeing him again was understandable. But Philip had noticed an inappropriate stare akin to lechery in Chiselton’s eyes as the young ladies first approached him. Even Whitson hadn’t shown such impropriety toward Lucy.

  The other gentleman, a Mr. Redding, displayed only the most proper manners, a perfect sycophant for the viscount. Philip chided himself for this lack of charity, but he could find no pleasure in being here. If not for Miss Elizabeth’s plea, he would have returned to Devon Hall. But after they dismounted, she seemed to prefer the other man’s company.

  “Today,” Chiselton went on, “we are all students of history, gazing into the past amidst these remarkable ruins. Imagine the souls who lived in this place, baking their bread over there.” He pointed to the stone remains of what had probably been a large community oven. “Taking shelter from a winter storm in yon dwellings.” One hand fisted at his waist, the other raised like an ensign at the front of an expedition, he strutted toward a row of crude foundations that appeared recently excavated. “Ah, how I do love Britain’s history.”

  The others followed him, adding their agreement like so many toadies. Well, not everyone. Jamie rolled his eyes once or twice at Chiselton’s remarks. Philip found it comical that the viscount had assumed the role of guide, as if three of his companions hadn’t grown up in this place.

  Lagging behind, Philip sauntered up to the group just as Miss Elizabeth looked his way.

  “Mr. Lindsey, I have heard of Roman ruins near Gloucestershire. What can you tell us about them?”

  As all eyes swung in Philip’s direction, he felt a pleasant kick under his ribs from the lady’s attention. So she would not discount him altogether.

  The viscount lifted his aquiline nose and glared at him briefly before softening his expression. “By all means, Lindsey, do tell us.”

  Philip shrugged. “I fear there’s not much to say, Miss Elizabeth. They’re like most, I suppose. Some impressive. Some commonplace.” He wouldn’t be dragged into a competition with this man.

  “No doubt.” Chiselton’s sneering grin, which quickly disappeared, set the man’s character firmly in Philip’s mind. Like most peers, he exhibited an insufferable arrogance, a sense of privilege precluding any obligation to those less fortunate.

  Philip shuddered away his fears about his own future. Could any man wear the mantle of nobility in a truly noble manner?

  Disappointed by Mr. Lindsey’s response, Elizabeth surmised he was much like Papa. Quiet but not remote, a little taciturn but not truly aloof. She would like to become better acquainted with him, to understand the man hidden behind those deep blue eyes that seemed to miss nothing.

  No, no. She would not.

  What she truly wanted, or should want, was to become better acquainted with Lord Chiselton. The youthful viscount seemed to know everything, from the way the Romans mixed concrete to how they built roads all over the ancient world. Further, he possessed a willingness to share his vast knowledge on a variety of subjects, a virtue, to be sure. Further still, he held the Chiselton title in his own right and had sat in the House of Lords for three years since reaching his majority. Why, he took part in decisions affecting England and all her colonies. Wealthy as a potentate, this young man had an excellent future.

  Well formed, moderately handsome and half a head taller than she, he presented an appearance that was quite impressive. His sense of fashion could not be improved, although Elizabeth thought he did wear a rather heavy shaving balm…or was that cologne? And perhaps he could do without a few of those rings on his hands. And maybe the gold cufflinks and ruffled cravat were rather much for a picnic.

  On the other hand, the taller Mr. Lindsey wore borrowed clothing and no other jewelry than a simple silver cravat pin, but he did have a quietly distinctive air about him she could not deny.

  While the servants set out the repast, the group dispersed. Jamie strolled away with Mr. Lindsey, while Lord Chiselton wandered toward the food-laden table and began to supervise. Elizabeth and Pru made good use of their fans, waving away the heat of the day.

  Pru looped her free arm around Elizabeth’s. “Have you noticed Di’s interest in Mr. Redding?” Her frown revealed a mild concern.

  Elizabeth eyed her other cousin and her companion, who stood facing the downward slope of the hillside. In the small valley below, a flock of sheep grazed on the thick green grass and drank from a small pond. But from the way Di leaned toward the gentleman and gazed up into his well-formed face, Elizabeth doubted the two were discussing that pastoral scene.

  She bit back a laugh. “Hmm. Shall we remind her of her vow to marry only a peer? I don’t suppose Mr. Redding is heir to a childless relative’s title, but one never knows about these things.”

  “Silly.” Pru nudged her. “I’m more concerned about the gentleman’s character.”

  “But surely her cousin would not introduce her to the wrong sort.” Elizabeth turned a more critical eye toward Mr. Redding. His fashionable black coat and tan riding breeches appeared new, as did his black beaver hat. His grooming was impeccable. The few remarks he had made during their tour of the ruins indicated he possessed both wit and an education. She rather liked the way his brown hair curled around his slender face. Based on appearances only, she would not mind his inclusion in their family.

  “One would hope Lord Chiselton would protect her.” Pru’s forehead wrinkled. “But that is not what concerns me. Have you ever seen Di look at any gentleman with such rapt attention? And she met Mr. Redding just this morning.”

  Elizabeth turned toward the ancient Roman oven, where Jamie and Mr. Lindsey stood laughing like old friends. Then she glanced at Lord Chiselton, who was sampling the bread rolls and cold meat slices. “But why is that a cause for concern? At breakfa
st, were you not attempting to tease me into an attraction to Papa’s guest, whom we met just this morning?”

  “Perhaps I should not have teased you.” Pru smoothed the frayed cuff of her riding coat. “Still, Mr. Lindsey’s character appears obvious to me. Consider the sense of honor and the courage it required to risk Uncle Bennington’s wrath to defend his sister’s rights. And of course I trust Uncle Moberly’s discernment unreservedly, and he clearly likes Mr. Lindsey. Still, we should never choose a husband in haste, for we could spend the rest of our lives regretting it. Think of poor Sophie’s hasty decision.”

  “Indeed. I am convinced Mr. Lindsey has saved her from great sorrow.” Elizabeth’s heart dipped in sympathy for their cousin, whose sweet but plain face had never attracted the attention of gentlemen. “And to think she met Mr. Whitson at Almack’s.”

  “Whoever sponsored him will be mortified when they learn of his deception.” Pru’s blond eyebrows dipped into a frown. “It is a cautionary tale for every young lady.”

  “What are you two gossiping about?” Jamie returned to their company, with Mr. Lindsey following.

  Their guest, whom Elizabeth had seen talking enthusiastically with her brother, now appeared taciturn once again.

  “More to the point—” she brushed a leaf from Jamie’s shoulder to distract him so she would not have to answer his question “—what were you two laughing about? It’s poor manners not to share a good story.”

  Trading a look, the two men chuckled, and an agreeable sensation swept through Elizabeth’s heart. Jamie was a dear but the least practical of her three brothers. If Mr. Lindsey befriended him, perhaps he could be a good influence. After all, the gentleman owned and managed property, which required a certain maturity.