Suddenly eager to be on his way, Lord Henry finished his brandy in one gulp. I tried to follow suit but my tea was still too hot to do anything but take small sips so I simply abandoned it and got up to leave.
Outside the sun was shining as if it had done so all day. Only the large puddles on the ground told a different story. Angus whinnied when he saw me like I was his long-lost person. It cheered me up and pulled me out of my own melancholy state. We set off for home without a word.
“Are you all right?” I asked when I could no longer bear the silence.
“Quite fine.” He was staring at the path ahead. We were sticking to the road this time.
“You don’t look fine.” I shouldn’t have said it but it was out of my mouth before I could stop it. I wasn’t sure what Mrs. Greasly meant when she said congratulations were in order but I had a distinct feeling that was the reason for this shift.
“Must you always pry, Miss Emma? I’m not entirely sure what people are like where you’re from, but here it is considered impertinent to concern yourself in others’ affairs.”
“The stiff-upper-lip thing you Brits are known for is nonsense. Where I’m from, it’s actually considered healthy to share your thoughts with others, not this ridiculous practice of keeping everything bottled up inside.” My irritation took a hold of me. “So if you want to talk about it I’m all ears, otherwise, don’t take it out on me. You’re hardly the only one with problems.”
Lord Henry was about to respond but instead I kicked Angus and rode straight past him. I didn’t want to follow in his wake a moment longer. His bad mood was rubbing off on me. That was what I told myself anyway, but I knew there was some other reason I needed to get away from him. I was starting to care. And when he was upset it tore me up. But why? I hardly knew the man and yet I felt I knew him all too well.
He continued always a horse length behind, no doubt stewing over his own troubles and perhaps cursing himself for having the misfortune of my company. Both of which I could do nothing about.
For the remainder of the ride I fell into a hypnotic state, listening to the sound of the horse hooves on the hard-packed dirt road. The smell of wet grass from the adjacent fields was like sweet perfume. My body ached from exhaustion, both emotional and physical. We plodded along until I recognized the canopy of trees and I knew the Dormer House was just around the bend.
The closer we got the more anxious I started to feel. Angus picked up on it immediately. His own step changed in anticipation of some perceived danger. His ears perked forward and a loud snort of the air revealed nothing, but he was on alert. Horses were so good at reading people’s emotions. Animals of flight. I could identify with that instinct. Had I not built a life avoiding the things that were difficult or dangerous?
The stable was quiet when we arrived, all the horses nibbling away at their dinner. The young groom, Jamie, bounded in to relieve us of our mounts. Reluctantly, I handed over the reins. I had hoped to untack Angus myself and let his soothing energy wash over me and calm my nerves.
Without a word, Lord Henry stormed off to the house. With his chores done, Jamie scurried off to his supper. Instead of heading back to the house, I wandered over to the mare and her foal and stood by their stall door watching them. This day had been full of discoveries and I needed time to process it all. What had Miss Crabtree meant? Did she know? What was eating away at Lord Henry? Was I really so naive about the world? Maybe the gift had been foolish. I felt silly for having gone out on a limb like that. I had only thought to please him and instead I’d contributed to his misery. Why did I want to please him so much? Was it gratitude for everything he’d done? Or something else? Something I didn’t want to acknowledge.
The foal was standing under the mare suckling while she nuzzled his hind end, creating wet circles with her lips. I wished I could collapse into the comfort of a mother. My mother. It had been years since I’d allowed myself to think of her that way for fear that I wouldn’t be able to stop the longing. Maybe it was the exhaustion, but I stood watching for a long time, soaking up the bond between the two as if I were connected to it. And when the tears started to fall, I simply let them stream down my face until my vision blurred and it started to tickle and itch. Without a tissue, I used my sleeve to dab at them.
“Here, use this.” Lord Henry startled me. He was standing next to me with a linen handkerchief in hand.
“Oh, God! How long have you been standing there?” I tried to hide my face. He pressed the handkerchief to my open palm. It smelt of lavender.
“Not long.” His expression had softened from earlier. “I hope I didn’t upset you?”
I kept my eyes from looking his way, still embarrassed to be caught crying. I felt a stab of annoyance at myself for letting my guard down. Ben always thought I looked weak or dramatic if I cried in front of him. Shame burned the tips of my ears and I shook it off almost as quickly as I had the thoughts of my mother. It was always about survival.
“No, nothing like that.” I waved him off and used the handkerchief to dab my eyes dry. “Are you always so stealthy?”
“My intention was not to startle you. Then I noticed you were…” He looked unsure how to finish his thought. “Are you angry with me?”
“Not at all. Just trying to process the day.”
His brows were slightly furrowed with concern.
“Really, I’m fine.”
Instinctively I touched his arm as a sign of reassurance and realized he was standing so close. His muscles tensed under my hand and I wondered if I’d given him a shock. My friends used to tease me that I had a constant surge at my fingertips.
When I looked up, he was watching me, his expression quite serious. This suddenly increased my awareness of the diminished space between us, that distance reserved for intimacy. Every extremity of my body tingled. As I looked from his eyes to his perfect lips, the energy around us was charged and dangerous. My hand, which was still touching his arm, failed to let go. I could not have willed it to do so. Instead, that small physical connection served as a conductor for the electricity building within us.
He raised his other hand to brush stray strands of hair from my face and I felt a flutter deep inside me. That was when the shift happened. I knew I should turn away, like I did with most things I didn’t want to acknowledge. But I couldn’t move away from him. Only towards him.
I wasn’t sure who made the first move—it could have been me—but before I knew it my lips were on his. They felt warm and familiar, like coming home. My arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, and his in turn squeezed the air out of me. My head swam with excitement and need and something else I’d never felt. Our kiss pulsed with urgency.
It might have lasted only seconds, but Lord Henry pulled away first. Both of us were breathless. I’d never in my life experienced anything in the same stratosphere. My first kiss with Ben had felt mechanical by comparison. It had taken many awkward attempts before it was even pleasant. Passionate would never have been a word to describe it. This, on the other hand, was turbulent, like two ships colliding in a rough sea, and now I was standing in the middle of the wreckage.
“I cannot, Miss Emma.” His warm breath grazed my cheek but his eyes wavered and struggled to meet mine. A look of shame filled his expression as he untangled himself from my embrace. My lips felt swollen and I touched them to make sure they were intact because they continued to buzz with excitement. For a moment, I stood there speechless. I felt exposed.
“Of course. I’m sorry. I don’t know what…” Flustered and embarrassed, I didn’t know how to finish my sentence or where to look. While I hadn’t kissed many guys, no one had ever swept me off my feet like this, leaving me panting and wanting.
“I apologize for my ungentlemanly behavior.” He took a step away from me, out of the danger zone, and straightened his jacket. “There are things you must know.”
“Please don’t,” I whispered and put a hand up to stop his explanation, as it would undoubtedl
y make me feel even worse than I already did. Rejection was something I always took personally. “Why were you here anyway?” I asked with a forced edge in my voice.
He cleared his throat, still visibly shaken and uncomfortable.
“When Phoebus told me you hadn’t yet returned I came looking for you. My stepmother has arranged a dinner for this evening and wishes you to join us. There will be some company attending, so Miss Barnsby will find you something suitable to wear.” Now he was back to business as usual. He had taken another small step away from me.
“I guess I should get cleaned up then.” I picked up the packages that I had bought in Oxwich that day, including the medical book that had been declined, and made my way towards the house at a brisk walk. Lord Henry called something out to me but I didn’t hear it, nor did I turn back and wait for him.
Chapter 16
Talking Walls
I felt like a fool. Never had I wanted to crawl out of my own skin as much as I did now. What had come over me in the stables? Lord Henry had awoken something inside me that had long been dormant. Now I struggled to act as if nothing had happened. How could I have humiliated myself like that? What had I been thinking? Was it loneliness? Sitting at a large dinner table with a room full of strangers was not the best place to regroup.
There were several people dining with us this evening. The Weatherfields, who came with their two teenage daughters, were the first to arrive, followed closely by some old baron and baroness well into their seventies, whose name I never got as everyone simply called them by their title. Then came Lord and Lady Windthrob, both of whom were as wide as they were tall, and each held a handkerchief over their noses.
“It’s the cholera,” Lady Windthrob explained when she came in. “It’s dreadfully scary in London at the moment.”
Now both she and her husband were settled at the table talking through their embroidered linen hankies to Sir Thomas Sigmore and his very young female companion. I’d assumed she was his daughter until I overheard talk of their impeding nuptials.
“Are you to be married in London?” Lady Windthrob asked Sir Thomas, crumbs falling from her lips from her dinner roll.
“Yes, before Christmas, and then it’s off to the Continent for our honeymoon,” he said proudly, giving his fiancée a nod.
“Let’s just hope this cholera doesn’t ruin your plans,” she said, looking quite concerned. “My husband and I aren’t taking any chances. We’re very careful to cover our faces and not breathe any unpleasant odors. Who knows how far-reaching this outbreak could be.”
Listening to their conversation, I couldn’t help but put in my two cents.
“You can’t catch cholera from the air,” I said, trying to be helpful and hopefully set this poor woman at ease. “It’s from contaminated…”
All eyes at the table had turned to me. Conversations had ceased mid-sentence. I realized my mistake all too late.
“… water,” I finished, feeling much less confident.
Everyone looked at the pitcher of water standing untouched in the center of the table. The earl broke the silence by launching into a belly laugh. Others joined in, less certain but wanting to be in on the joke. My cheeks burned with humiliation. Lord Henry’s eyes brushed over me with sympathy.
“Miss Emma, I’ve never heard such a ridiculous thing,” the earl said, wiping tears from his face. I knew he didn’t mean it maliciously but he was clearly still a strong believer in the miasma theory that diseases like that were caused by pollution or bad air. John Snow was about to discover the real cause of cholera and announce it to the world. Lucky for me, everyone in the room thought I was crazy. In the future, I’d have to be more careful.
Once the dust had settled, Lord Henry’s friend Lieutenant John Walker breezed in with profound apologies for his tardiness and was seated in the empty chair next to me. With nearly twenty people at the table, I struggled to keep track of them all.
Edmund, Lord Henry’s brother, was having a one-way conversation with the baron. Edmund looked nothing like either of his siblings. He was a scrawny young man with crooked teeth and a sullen disposition. It was his bad breath that had struck me when I was first introduced to him. Now I watched as the baron politely tried to shield himself from the unpleasant odor. It was a relief not to be seated next to him.
Course upon course was brought to the table with more cutlery than I ever knew existed. I took my lead from Isobel, Lord Henry’s sister, to see what utensil to use next. She was conveniently seated across from me at the table. I paid close attention to her impeccable manners.
She couldn’t be more than eighteen years old, but she was already a lady of the house. Her hair was dark brown, much like Lord Henry’s, but her nose was small and her face full of freckles. Not what you’d consider beautiful, but pleasant. Much kinder-looking than her mother, whose manner seemed somewhat austere. With her black hair tied back in a tight bun, her mother’s face looked stern and skeletal. Her dark eyes were catlike, not in their shape as much as in the way they watched you, with judgment and distance.
Mr. and Mrs. Weatherfield were very well dressed. She was so bejeweled that I wondered if she often suffered back or neck pain as a result of the exorbitant display of wealth she adorned herself with. One of their daughters, Jane, was seated next to Lord Henry. She had pretty blonde hair but a very large Roman nose and a serious lack of a chin. She spoke only when spoken to. Mostly, she listened intently to every word that Lord Henry said, even when it was not directed at her, which was most of the time.
The explanation given for my presence was that I was a distant relation on holiday. The countess was worried that any semblance of the truth might leave a scandalous taste in their guests’ mouths, so she felt it was best to lie. I wasn’t sure if the guests actually believed it or if they thought I was from a less notable branch of the family.
Following my disruption, no one directed the slightest curiosity or interest my way. That was, no one except for Lieutenant John Walker, who looked as much an outcast as I felt. He was a very handsome man somewhere in his twenties, with sandy hair that fell in curvy waves just below his ears. His face was chiseled like a Greek statue’s and his body built like a football player’s, stocky and muscular. He was easy on the eyes, but aware of it. He spoke under his breath often and I never knew if he was talking to me or had a nervous habit that I should try to ignore.
At one end of the table, the countess recounted some of the current London gossip and scandals, while at the other the earl was debating the wisdom of having more laws concerning children in the workforce. He felt that even more stringent restriction could negatively affect business. Was he really so heartless?
“If Lady Windthrob has one more roll I’m afraid she won’t fit out that door,” Lieutenant Walker said close to my ear.
My hand flew to my mouth to stifle a laugh. He was right though. The woman was enormous. Like Middle American carnival-going kind of enormous with bad teeth to boot.
“Do you always make fun of people like this?” I whispered back through my napkin.
“Does it bother you?” One perfect brow arched. Challenging. Playful.
On the outside, Miss Barnsby had worked her magic and I looked acceptable. However, inside I felt like a hot mess. So many things had happened today and my emotions were flying around inside me like confetti, my kiss with Lord Henry taking on the greater share. Where did Ben fit into to all of this? What did that make me? A cheater. Was I a terrible person? If I were being honest with myself, what troubled me most was not my infidelity but Lord Henry’s rejection. In this moment I wanted to avoid men, even the handsome one sitting next to me trying to be charming, but I could feel my resolve weakening.
“Not at all. Given the circumstances, it’s entertaining,” I admitted to the lieutenant.
“Well, I’m glad I could oblige, Miss Emma.” He had obviously taken my comment as encouragement. “Are you enjoying your time at Dormer House? Has my dear friend Henry been hospit
able and shown you the sights?”
“Is there more to it than rolling hills and country pubs?” I was feeling the full effects of the wine now. Maybe being a little bit flirty with a stranger was better than wallowing in my own self-pity.
“So you’ve seen the best country life has to offer then,” he said without a hint of sarcasm and we both laughed.
“How do you know Lord Henry?” I asked, hoping to make polite conversation.
“We were at Eton together,” he said, and I raised an inquisitive brow at him. “They called us tugs in those days.”
“What was that?” I asked.
“As King’s Scholars we were forced to wear a black overcoat with tails. It was silly really.” He bit off a piece of dinner roll as he spoke. “The other boys loved to give them a tug when the headmaster wasn’t looking. Hence the name ‘tugs’.” He poured us both another glass of wine without asking.
“That’s embarrassing.” I couldn’t imagine Lord Henry getting teased.
“On the contrary, we were quite pleased with ourselves at thirteen, being two of only seventy kids across the country with such a distinction. Henry even wore his tails to bed sometimes.” We both laughed at the thought.
My eyes drifted to Lord Henry and I caught him looking at us. Instead of smiling he looked away. I refused to allow myself any more torture over what had passed between us.
It wasn’t until the meal was coming to an end and the tables were being cleared to make room for dessert that the reason for the formal dinner was revealed. A light tapping on a wine glass brought everyone’s attention to the head of the table where the earl was seated.
“I would like to thank everyone for coming tonight. The countess and I would like to congratulate the newly engaged couple.”
While I looked to Sir Thomas with a congratulatory smile, the earl raised his glass to Lord Henry and the Weatherfields’ eldest daughter Jane, who blushed and raised her hand to her chest as if overcome with emotion.
The Wayfarer: A Time Travel Romance (The Wayfarer Series Book 1) Page 9
