“Good evening,” he said smoothly.
“I am so glad you agreed to stay, my lord. Did my brother introduce you to everyone?”
“He did indeed. I look forward to the challenge of testing their marksmanship against my own.”
“Those poor birds,” she said, almost giggling. “But I must confess—they do taste delicious.”
He smiled. “Then I shall do my best to make sure your dinner table is full of good things to eat.”
“I imagine you are quite the marksman after serving in the army. My brother can use a good challenge, since he always bests his friends.”
“Ah, but he’s my host. I’ll try to be fair.”
He glanced once again toward Mrs. Blake, who sat very still, a serene expression on her face, her head cocked forward as if she were listening to everything going on around her. Still, no one had approached her.
“Miss Collins, shall I bring your sister to you? I’m not certain you can see her from here.”
Something dark flashed in her eyes. “Audrey doesn’t enjoy crowds the same way we do, my lord, so please forgive her shyness.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. I can imagine how difficult it is to see only blackness, to be at a disadvantage to everyone else. Yet she moves about so easily.”
“She knows every space in this house,” Miss Collins said. “Heaven forbid we move a piece of furniture.”
“That is a sensible precaution, of course, and good of you to consider her situation.”
He almost missed the brief wince, but it was there. Miss Collins was obviously not ignorant of the situation. But growing up with a blind sister, it was probably easy to imitate the way one’s father treated her. Easy, yes, but disappointing, especially when age, maturity, and sympathy should have made her behave otherwise.
“Still, I cannot enjoy myself knowing she is alone,” he said. “Excuse me, please.”
He bowed, and this time she wasn’t so careful about hiding her anger, as if she were jealous of her own sister. But then he did the math in his head. Blake had been recently married when he’d arrived in India, so that had probably put Miss Collins on the cusp of coming out. Had she been newly on display, only to find her blind sister snaring a wedding proposal instead of her?
Robert moved through the small crowd and reached Mrs. Blake. She was obviously aware of his arrival, for she lifted her head expectantly.
“Good evening, Mrs. Blake,” he said.
“Good evening, Lord Knightsbridge.”
“My voice gives me away?”
“And your courtesy,” she reminded him, lowering her voice. “I trust you see that I was not exaggerating my dilemma.”
She needed help—he could see that. But how to know what was best for her? Robert disliked feeling indecisive.
Before he could speak further, the butler announced that dinner was served. Mrs. Blake rose smoothly to her feet.
“Shall I escort you, ma’am? I believe the order of precedence will be satisfied that way.”
“And so my sister can’t be too angry?” she asked wryly.
He smiled. “You know her very well, of course.”
“Of course. You’ll enjoy her company at dinner, since she made certain she was seated at your side.”
“I was once rather used to scheming females, Mrs. Blake, although I may be out of practice.”
She stilled, and her smile died. “And I don’t mean to be another one, my lord.”
“Forgive me—I was not classifying you as such. I was merely making light of a peer’s attractiveness to unmarried ladies.”
“Oh, of course, I’m sorry. I am being too sensitive.”
Robert guided her into the dining room until she touched the back of her chair, then after she sat, pushed the chair in for her. She smiled up at him.
With his inclusion, the numbers were uneven. He sat at one end, near the host and his younger daughter. Mrs. Blake sat at the other end, at her brother’s right. Her brother started talking to the person on his left, and Mrs. Blake’s other dinner partner turned to the person on his right. It was as if she weren’t even there between them. More than once, he wanted to call across the centerpiece to her, but knew she wouldn’t appreciate the attention.
As it was, many people glanced at her surreptitiously to watch her eat, and he found himself clenching his jaw, even as he realized he was doing the same. When the footman came around with each course, he would whisper something to Mrs. Blake as he set whatever was being served on her plate, placing each selection carefully. Mrs. Blake ate quite normally, and the glances at last died away.
Dinner grew more and more awkward, because even as Miss Collins spoke to him about the countryside or London or the friends they might have in common, he kept glancing at Mrs. Blake and wishing this dinner over. And that probably didn’t help Miss Collins’s disposition, but he wasn’t exactly feeling charitable toward her. At last the ladies retired to the parlor, and the men remained behind to drink and smoke and plan the schedule for their shooting party. Robert had little to add, except to quietly agree he might give them some competition if they challenged his shooting. They all seemed so . . . young, even though several were near his own age. Perhaps “young” was an incorrect word; “naïve” was probably better. Except for a jaunt to France or Italy, none of these men had traveled the world or risked their lives. All took their families and way of life for granted. Robert couldn’t blame them, since he’d once felt the same way.
But now he’d experienced the wait before battle, when one looked to each side and wondered which fellow soldier—friend—would survive. He’d experienced the joys of triumph, and the terrible, hollow sadness of death, and knowing one bore responsibility. He’d been hungry and freezing—he’d almost lost several toes in the Afghan mountains when they’d first taken over Kabul. But that had been the worst of his injuries. He’d felt almost miraculously incapable of being harmed. And perhaps that had saved him, but not some of his friends.
Audrey heard Blythe enter the parlor rather than the drawing room to await the men, and she knew that meant a musical evening at the piano. Audrey didn’t blame her for wanting to display her talents; it was expected of a young lady.
But soon Audrey wished she’d fabricated an excuse to check on something in the kitchen. Blythe was full of icy silence. Audrey couldn’t guess what she was doing until she heard Blythe curse under her breath. Needlework—she always pricked her finger when she was upset.
She didn’t know why her sister was so agitated after her voice and laughter had filled the dining room. After hearing Lord Knightsbridge’s occasional chuckles, she’d felt a momentary worry that her family would coerce the earl to their side. But then she remembered his sincere wish to help her, the widow of his fellow soldier. Could she trust in that?
Audrey retrieved one of her embossed books from a shelf and began to read. The letters were large and raised, but she still had to move her fingers across slowly. Though she’d read this one many times, embossed books were expensive, and she didn’t have easy access to her money. Usually Molly read aloud to her from the library, and the two of them had enjoyed exploring the world of books together.
Blythe’s unending silence saddened as well as frustrated her, and at last she had to speak. “You sound like you’re enjoying yourself with Edwin’s shooting party, Blythe.”
“I am.”
At least she’d answered, even if her voice was clipped and angry.
“I thought the guests seemed to take pleasure in the meal.”
“Trying to earn a compliment, Audrey?”
Audrey sighed. “I was making polite conversation, which might be all I ever have with you. It makes me sad.”
Blythe made no response, and for the millionth time, Audrey wished she could see her expression. They suddenly heard a door being thrown open, and a genial burst of laughter from the men as they crossed the entrance hall.
The men swept into the room in a rush of exuberance, their ve
ry presence a powerful wave of maleness Audrey had never experienced. She was usually asked to retire to her room when her brother had company. But not this time. She had Lord Knightsbridge to thank for that. She was able to experience all their deep voices, the many scents of cologne and perspiration, the movement of air as if the young men couldn’t stand still in anticipation of their hunt.
Someone bumped her leg, and she heard a young man say, “Forgive me, Mrs. Blake,” in a voice so loud Audrey almost reared her head back.
Mildly, she answered, “Apology accepted, sir, although next you might try apologizing for the assault on my ears.”
When chuckles swept around her, it was a little dizzying to imagine so many people in places she couldn’t predict, couldn’t see.
Someone sat beside her, and the cushions angled down from the weight. She balanced herself carefully.
“Interesting book, Mrs. Blake.”
Lord Knightsbridge, she thought, relaxing. “It is, my lord, one made especially for the blind. You can feel the letters, if you’d like.”
He did so, his fingers light across the page, but beneath the book, she could feel the faint pressure of them trailing across her thighs. It made her shiver, and she pressed her lips together. What was this? Such a strange sensation. The others continued to converse; it was reassuring to think no one watched them.
“It is good to know you have access to the world of books,” he said.
“I am fortunate to have a lady’s maid who will read for hours on end in the evening. Right now, we are studying the countries of Africa.”
“Ah, you are a scholar.”
Her cheeks felt hot—was he actually making her blush? “No, I am not so talented.”
“What else do you do to pass the time?” he asked, then added, “If you do not mind telling me.”
“I don’t mind honest curiosity, sir,” she answered. She wet her lips, knowing that how she portrayed herself would influence his decision. Conversely, his behavior would influence her as well. “I love to walk. I’m out every day with my maid, to strengthen my health and enjoy the air. I ride as well, although I sometimes need to be guided.”
“Sometimes?” he echoed.
The surprised amusement in his voice wasn’t condescending.
“My gelding, Erebus, knows his way about the estate, as do I.”
“Erebus,” he echoed. “Greek god?”
“Excellent memory, my lord. The god of darkness.”
“Aah,” he said, and the amusement was back. “Shaped like mist, not a man. Appropriate. Please continue with your pastimes.”
He was well read. She liked that. “As for indoor amusements, besides reading, I can crochet and knit. We all know how important needlework is to a lady,” she added dryly.
He laughed, and more than one conversation died.
Suddenly, Blythe spoke up in the silence. “So what are you two discussing that is so amusing? Do share!”
Audrey was surprised to feel a gentle understanding for her sister. Blythe also knew what it was like to worry about the future. She had been out for three years now, and though she’d turned down several inappropriate proposals, a good match had not presented itself. Blythe no more wanted to grow old in this house than Audrey did. Whenever Audrey grew angry with her sister’s impatience and temper, she tried to remind herself of this.
“We are discussing needlework, Miss Collins,” Lord Knightsbridge said.
Someone guffawed.
“I myself used to have terrible hobbies for a young future earl,” he continued.
“Oh do enlighten us, my lord,” Blythe urged.
“I thought myself quite the scholar and intellect.”
“But you became a soldier,” Blythe countered. “Would that not make you an outdoorsman in your youth?”
“My father would order my brother to drag me from my books to the archery field or fencing match.”
“Surely your brother had your best interests at heart,” Edwin said with hearty good cheer.
Audrey could imagine him giving Blythe a playful elbow to the side, but not her, as if it would be cruel to have fun with an invalid.
“Oh, my brother had more than my best interests—he was very competitive, being older than I.”
“But you are the earl,” Blythe said, confusion in her voice.
“My brother died at fourteen. Now, Miss Collins, do not look so sad. It was a long time ago, and I’ve since thought my brother has enjoyed watching me from above as I stumble from mistake to mistake.”
So he has had other grief in his life, Audrey thought. Perhaps that was where his compassion began.
“Maybe your brother has guided you as well,” Blythe said. “You were a captain in the army, yes? And you have the look of a man at ease in physical pursuits.”
Audrey found herself trying to imagine what Blythe saw. Audrey knew something of men after all, even though she’d only had a wedding night before her husband had abandoned her. At first she’d thought herself lacking when he’d so quickly fled, but after a time, she’d realized he’d been a selfish man who cared little for her or making her feel at ease on their wedding night. She’d been a virgin, after all.
But she remembered what he’d felt like through his nightshirt, thin and bony, awkward with his hands on her body. He could not be a representation of all men. Lord Knightsbridge must look quite the dashing figure in comparison, if Blythe’s reaction was any indication.
Not that she cared. The earl could be a hunched troll and it wouldn’t matter, as long as he helped her. And then he could go away, because she was done with men, done with being under their control.
“I do enjoy outdoor pursuits now,” Lord Knightsbridge admitted. “And I’ve been known to be an accurate shot. I imagine some of you here should fear my abilities.”
There was laughter and answering challenges, so . . . manly to Audrey, thrilling in a new way. It was wonderful to participate like this, all because of his lordship.
As conversations began again, Lord Collins asked Blythe to play the piano, and soon her cheerful melody provided background.
Lord Knightsbridge murmured, “I do believe I must speak to others now, Mrs. Blake, or be accused of monopolizing you.”
“I understand, my lord, but you are patronizing me. We both know all believe I’m monopolizing you.”
“And we know it untrue,” he murmured.
To her surprise, he lifted her gloved hand and brought it briefly to his mouth, so briefly she might have imagined it. Her fingers started to tremble, and she berated herself for a silly fool.
“You are a flatterer, my lord,” she said, shaking her head. “I give you permission to go flatter someone else.”
She heard his chuckle, felt the rush of warm air as he rose, and then she was alone at her end of the sofa. Listening to Blythe play, she heard the occasional wrong note that came from not enough practice, but overall, she thought her sister had improved. Blythe joined her voice to the music, and it was sweet and pretty. Audrey hoped many of the men looked upon her sister with interest.
Soon Audrey deemed it time for refreshments, so she walked to the bell pull and rang it, waiting patiently for the footman to appear. She ordered coffee and tea for her brother’s guests.
“No, no, I can play no more,” she heard Blythe say in a teasing voice. “My fingers will need time to recover.”
“Then let us hear your sister play,” Lord Knightsbridge said, his deep voice once again bringing all conversation to a standstill.
Audrey was caught standing alone, feeling almost adrift in surprise. She could sense their eyes on her, and her imagination made them all look wide-eyed with shock or revulsion or morbid curiosity.
“I don’t think . . .” her father began in his big blustery voice.
“But I heard her this afternoon when I arrived,” Lord Knightsbridge smoothly interrupted. “Mrs. Blake plays as beautifully as her sister. You have very talented daughters, Collins.”
A
udrey couldn’t refuse the earl, for it would be poor manners, but she wasn’t so certain this was a good idea. When she hesitated, not knowing who was between her and the piano, someone took her arm. She stiffened.
“It is only your proud brother,” Edwin said, speaking tightly as if between gritted teeth.
Did he think she was ruining his shooting party? Or distracting attention from Blythe? Audrey straightened in anger, allowing him to lead her to the piano. Sitting down on the bench, she tried to clear her mind, the better to choose a selection. She panicked for a moment, never having been asked to perform for guests. At last one of Chopin’s romantic piano ballades came to mind. As she hesitated, she remembered how long it had taken her to memorize it, note by note, with help from her mother. Those were such good memories.
She began to play, and let the pleasure of the music soothe her nerves and quench her unease. Only when she was done did she realize that everyone had remained silent throughout. A burst of warm applause made her bow her head with happiness.
She almost felt like a normal woman. But she wasn’t—not yet.
Chapter 4
The next morning, Robert walked the fields with the other men toward the marsh at the far end of the park, where they were supposed to find plenty of birds to shoot. The grass crunched beneath their feet from the frozen damp overnight. The sun was just rising, casting its rays through the brilliant foliage of a copse of trees ahead. A half dozen beaters had already gone in front, waiting for a signal to drive the birds toward them.
Robert couldn’t keep his mind on what he was about to do, though he held his gun with well-trained caution. He was remembering Mrs. Blake’s performance last night, and he still could not forget how impressed and awed he’d been. His bookish youth had made him familiar with the works of Chopin, and he knew the ballade she’d chosen to play was considered one of the most technically difficult. And yet she’d memorized it without ever reading the sheet music.
Seeing her with her eyes closed and her expression suffused with peaceful joy, one could almost forget she was blind. He’d looked around and seen the other men’s faces show surprise and reluctant delight. Lord Collins’s expression was far more inscrutable, and his son’s simply impassive. But Miss Collins? She did not like to be upstaged, and surely knew she had been. Perhaps that was why Mrs. Blake chose not to sing. It would have only pointed out even more strongly who was the more talented of the sisters.
Gayle Callen - [Brides of Redemption 02] Page 3
