The two women gave him instruction for the next several minutes until Chastain put up a staying hand. “Enough, ladies. I’m not quite sure how I was considered an eligible catch. After listening to your advice to Peake, I feel as if I am lucky any woman deigned to marry me.”
“Do not pretend to be anything but cocksure, husband. No one would believe it.” Iris stood up. “I am rather tired from our journey. Please do excuse me. It was lovely to see you again, Lord Peake.”
Lottie rose to her feet. “I will take my leave as well. Goodnight. Until tomorrow, Lord Peake.”
“Will you join me for another glass of port?” Chastain asked when the ladies were gone, although Peake could see shadows under the man’s eyes.
“I will make my way home. Until tomorrow.”
“Oh yes, the ball.” Chastain raised a hand in mock salute. “I shall be wherever Lady Chastain decrees.”
He would have walked a few streets to hail a hackney, but Chastain insisted he take Ambrose’s coach to his rooms. During the ride, he reflected on how happy his friend looked to be in his marriage.
Chastain was in love with his wife. Peake wasn’t envious, not really. His mother had been desperately in love, yet there had been disappointments, struggles in her marriage. His father appeared to have cared for his wife. If he could at least feel some affection for Miss Bolton, he could see no better foundation to build a marriage on.
Chapter Four
Lottie had expected the inquisition she received from her sister over breakfast the next morning.
“What are you thinking of, Lottie?”
Iris took a seat across from her sister in the dining room after both women selected toast and fruit from the sideboard. A footman poured hot chocolate into the china cup at her place. The rich aroma drifted into the air.
“Chastain has already left for sessions?” she replied with a question of her own.
“Yes, yes.” Iris sliced an apricot. “Do not put me off.”
“I’m not putting you off. I was rather bored here with you and Chastain gone. You know I’m not particularly fond of London. I miss the gardens at Marcourt. Instructing Lord Peake will be a diversion.” She took a sip of chocolate.
Iris shifted her attention to her sister’s face. “Are you going to enjoy spending time with Lord Peake? I know you think he is attractive—”
“I think no such thing.”
“Really?” Iris pursed her lips.
Lottie wrinkled her nose as she pretended to think on the matter. “Well, he is attractive as any man, I suppose. When added together, his features are agreeable enough. That isn’t the point. I think it will be amusing to direct his manner, his behavior.”
“You will be kind.”
Lottie chortled. “Of course. You must agree the man could behave a little more carefree.”
“And he believes you could behave a little less carefree.” Iris returned her attention to her breakfast.
“My behavior is not in question.” Happy to have her sister home again, she said, “I missed you, Iris.”
“And I you. Whatever is the matter with Rose? She asked to be allowed to return to Marcourt. She has convinced Aunt Abigail to accompany her. Rose says it is imperative she return to the country.”
“Rose is not happy with my attempts to rein in her wild behavior.” She spread a liberal amount of marmalade onto a piece of toast.
“I know you think we have let her run wild. If only Mama were here to tell us what to do.” Iris’s voice faltered at the end of her speech.
Both women were silent for a few moments as they ate. The abrupt death of their parents nearly three years before had been a shock. Sometimes Lottie forgot they were gone.
The mauve papered dining room was on the ground floor. Three tall windows overlooked the back garden, their curtains drawn back to allow Lottie to see the day was sunny. The large gilded mirror over the chimneypiece opposite the windows reflected light around the room.
“Maybe it would be a good idea for Rose to return to Norfolk,” Lottie said. “If Abigail is up to the journey. I think our aunt prefers the country. She stayed in London to chaperone myself and Rose while you were on your wedding trip. A successful trip by all accounts. I have never seen you look so happy, Iris.”
“It was wonderful to have Chastain all to myself. He is a delightful husband. He joined me on the digs near the wall, and I accompanied him to several formal gardens. We talk about so much together. Books, art, our families. And he wants children as much as I do.” Iris’s cheeks turned pink.
Lottie felt her own cheeks grow warm. “That is quite enough description of your marital state, dear sister. I am most pleased you are happy.”
“I pray you find the same joy in marriage,” Iris replied.
“Your union gives me hope. Otherwise I would not have returned to the marriage mart. I found no men of interest last season.”
“You will find a perfect match. I know it. On another subject, I’m surprised Rose wants to leave London when she is so enamored of Lord Peake.”
“I did tell her the viscount has an intended.”
“Oh my! How did she take the news?” Iris leaned forward.
“She was obviously upset although she tried not to let me see how much. That is a positive sign. She must learn to curb her impulses to share her feelings with everyone around her.”
Iris nodded. “When I was told she would take a tray this morning, I wondered if she was unwell.”
“I rather think she wants us to worry over her.” Lottie took another sip of her chocolate. “If we do not react to her ploy, she will soon be downstairs.”
Their conversation turned to Iris’s plans for her new home in Grosvenor Street. Iris would visit the townhouse later that day, and Lottie would accompany her.
Their meal over, the ladies made their way upstairs to change from their day dresses into carriage dresses.
“Do you have an idea of what you will wear this evening?” Iris asked before she parted from her sister on the landing.
Lottie nodded. “I have yet to wear the new gown Francesca made for me.”
The dress was white, finished with a twisted trimming of ethereal blue and white satin. The short sleeves were edged with a trim of white satin bound with blue, and a long sash of blue and white gauze ribbon would tie around her waist. The blue was a perfect foil for Lottie’s light-colored hair.
Iris nodded. “Francesca is a treasure. The dress she made for you is exquisite. You will surely look a picture, Lottie.”
* * * * *
Peake was to meet Chastain’s party at the ball. Although he wasn’t a great admirer of dancing, it was an approved method to spend time with a young woman.
His first glimpse of Lottie took him aback. Her gown was one he’d never seen before. He’d always recognized the lady as pretty. Tonight, she was beautiful. The blue sash around her waist accentuated the slimness of her waist while the short sleeves displayed her shapely arms. He shook himself. He was not attracted to the lady.
Her hairstyle with full curls on both sides of her face included a plume of blue feathers falling tastefully toward the front. Shading the left side of her face, the feathers added a sense of mystery to her delicate features.
He’d never felt nervous around lady Lottie, but tonight something felt different. It wasn’t as if they would be alone together. She was surrounded by her family. He made his way through the crowded room to stand near Chastain.
“Good evening,” he said to the group as a young buck placed Lottie’s hand on his arm to escort the girl to the dance floor.
“Good evening, Lord Peake,” Iris replied.
Chastain inclined his head. It was only last year Peake had braved several of the seasonal entertainments in London merely because Chastain was in attendance. Ambrose’s family had been fully out of mourning, and both the older sisters had made their debut. He’d felt a companionable interest in Iris. She was easy to speak with whereas Lottie set his teeth on
edge.
Peake was comfortable in Parliament surrounded by men. Mixed social occasions were his downfall. The time he’d spent last season at varied entertainments had proved to him how out of step he was with female society. He filled his days with politics or managing his finances. He wasn’t the gadabout his father had been.
“Shall we take a seat, Aunt Abigail?” Iris gently tapped the older woman on the arm with her fan. “The gentlemen can fetch us some refreshment.”
A few minutes later he and Chastain, glasses in hand, returned to the now comfortably seated women.
“I have negus and ratafia,” he said to Lady Markham. “We weren’t sure which you would prefer.”
“Ratafia,” Lady Markham replied.
The woman took the glass he offered. He sipped the negus although he didn’t care for the nutmeg in the drink. Iris sipped her own negus, grimaced, and handed her glass to her husband. She directed her smile at Peake.
“Would you honor me with a dance, Lady Chastain?” he asked, hoping he’d interpreted her look correctly.
“I would indeed, Lord Peake.”
The steps of a country dance allowed for moments of conversation.
“The next set, you should dance with an unmarried lady, and then a married woman again,” Iris said.
“Lady Lottie?” he asked.
“That will do if she is not otherwise engaged. My sister is very sought after at London entertainments.”
He remembered Lottie’s popularity with the opposite sex. He’d rarely danced, so it had never been a concern. Lottie danced by with her partner, laughing as she went. The laugh sounded forced to his ears. He didn’t think he’d imagined she had a public laugh and a more natural one she used around her family.
When the set was over, it was time to ask someone else to the floor. He swallowed a lump in his throat.
Lottie stood beside Chastain.
“May I have the next set, Lady Lottie?” he asked in a rush as he could see Lord Halford approaching their little party. The gentleman had asked Lottie to marry him last season, if rumors were to be believed.
“It would be my pleasure, Lord Peake.”
He escorted his partner to the floor and swept her into his arms as the orchestra struck up a waltz.
“Lady Cair will only call two waltzes at her balls.”
The scent of roses drifted to him. He asked, “Is that so?”
Lottie nodded. “She is rather a traditionalist.”
Idle conversation wasn’t his forte. For the first time, he noticed how dark her eyes were. Ringed with heavy lashes, they were rather pretty for brown eyes.
“You have to say something to your dance partner, Lord Peake.” Her laugh was light, a mere breath.
“What should I speak to a young lady about?” he asked, suddenly aware how closely he held her in his arms.
“You should compliment her on her appearance, perhaps her dress or her hair.”
“Your hair is ah . . . very pretty, Lady Lottie.” Her hair was pretty. Burnished gold locks that shone brightly in the candlelight.
Lottie winced. “‘Your hair looks quite becoming this evening, Lady Lottie.’”
He repeated the sentence.
“Good.” She paused. “‘The color of your gown brings out the color of your eyes.’”
He repeated the words and added, “What if it doesn’t?”
“It doesn’t signify. It is a compliment that doesn’t sound practiced or as if you’re putting it on too brown.” She gave him a smile he could only interpret as encouraging.
Lottie was a capable dancer, graceful in his embrace. He felt more relaxed than usual in such a crowd. Parliamentary sessions were different. He knew most of the men from his own party quite well. A ballroom was full of debutantes and their mothers.
“Are you ready for Almack’s?”
He stumbled a moment.
“Don’t look so stricken,” Lottie said with a grin. “I was only having you on. We didn’t apply for vouchers this year.”
He let out a breath and smiled.
“What is that? I didn’t know you could smile, Lord Peake.” Her eyes wide, the lady cocked her head and fluttered her lashes.
“I can.” He felt his cheeks grow warm. His coping mechanism when he was embarrassed was instantaneous. He settled his features into a firm mask.
The rest of the set, they spoke very little. He was relieved when the dance was over. Peake allowed himself a calming breath as he returned Lottie to Iris’s side. Lady Cair was speaking with Iris. He surprised himself and asked their hostess to dance.
“Why, that would be lovely, Lord Peake,” Lady Cair replied. “I had supposed you to have little of your father’s charm. I am glad to be proven wrong.”
When he was on the dance floor with the matron, he said, “Your hair looks quite becoming this evening, Lady Cair.”
“Thank you, Lord Peake.” The woman gave a nod, causing the feathers of her elaborate headdress to bounce.
One of the feathers poked him in the eye. He said nothing as he blinked several times. Although he much preferred to stay at home with his newspapers and a cozy fire, if the worst thing that happened that evening was an injury to his eye, he would be grateful. He put his discomfort at Lottie’s teasing out of his mind.
Lottie danced by, paired with Sir Thomas Childs. He remembered the man as a neighbor of Ambrose’s in the country. The couple appeared to be having a serious conversation. No laughter from the lady.
“Lottie is such a lovely girl,” Lady Cair said. “Such a shame her parents died so young.”
“I think Ambrose has done remarkably well with three younger sisters to look after.”
“Now only two,” Lady Cair replied. “I wonder why Lottie didn’t accept any of the marriage proposals thrown her way last year. Her parents had a love match. Perhaps she wishes the same for herself.”
Love. His mother had been in love with his father. He’d never thought much of love himself. Never experienced it, as far as he was aware. He loved his mother, but that was a different emotion from the romantic notions he’d heard described.
They danced apart, and when they came together again, he merely said, “Your ball is a crush, Lady Cair. You must be quite pleased.”
When their set ended, he approached a young miss, and the next set, a married lady. He noted Sir Thomas left the ball after dancing with Iris.
“Was that your neighbor Sir Thomas I saw earlier?” he asked Lady Chastain during a break in the dancing. They stood together sipping lemonade.
Iris nodded. “Oh yes, he was recently ill and missed my wedding. He is in London for a few days and wanted to express his happiness over my recent nuptials.”
“I wonder Ambrose thought the baronet wanted to marry you. I never believed it myself.” He shook his head.
“It would have been a lovely match if we had cared for each other. Very convenient. Lottie also doesn’t appear to be interested in an alliance with our country neighbor.”
Peake thought back to the time he’d spent at Marcourt last Christmastide. There had been no inkling of an understanding between Sir Thomas and Lady Lottie. He didn’t think they were well suited for each other.
After indulging in the midnight supper, he was relieved Chastain mentioned early sessions the next day.
Their party took their leave; Chastain’s coach deposited him at his lodgings. He was exhausted from not only dancing but making conversation with strangers. He hoped the next venue suggested for his edification in the social graces wasn’t another ballroom. Holding Lottie in his arms had flustered him. The last thing he’d felt in her presence was annoyed.
Chapter Five
“Did you enjoy your evening?” Rose asked her sisters over breakfast the next morning.
“Although the ballroom was warm, Lady Cair always has a lovely buffet,” Iris replied.
Chastain had left for sessions. Lottie was surprised Rose didn’t ask for a tray in her room. The girl’s curiosity over
the ball must have outweighed her frustration with her sisters.
“Did you dance with Lord Peake, Lottie?” Rose asked with a flutter of her lashes and a too-bright smile.
“I did indeed. The viscount’s dancing is improving with practice.” Peake had been more than proficient as a partner and quite easy to talk with until he’d been embarrassed. She’d enjoyed dancing with him, she’d felt very feminine when she was in his embrace.
Iris nodded as she finished chewing some toast. “Oh yes, he danced far more last night than he ever did at any of the balls last season.”
“We did see Sir Thomas.” She was happy to see Rose smile at the baronet’s name. “His sister Lucy will soon return from India with their parents.”
“That is good news,” Rose replied with a sigh. “I have missed her ever so much these last few months.”
The sky outside the windows was cloudy. Lottie wondered if it would rain. Hopefully not before she weeded the plot of daffodils.
“Shall we finish embroidering the pillowcases today?” Iris asked.
“Only for you, dear sister.” Lottie sighed dramatically. “You know I detest needlework.”
“I have a French lesson this morning,” Rose said as she left the table. “Au revoir, chères soeurs!”
Both women finished breakfast and settled in the smaller drawing room on the first floor, pillowcases on their laps. Chastain’s family crest was to be embroidered on the linens used in Iris’s new home.
“I have something to ask of you, Lottie.”
“Yes?” She threaded a strand of violet silk through the eye of her needle.
“You should come to us at the estate in Devon at the end of the season. Perhaps even stay for Christmastide. I would love to have you with me.”
“That would be wonderful.” Lottie looked up and smiled. She’d worried Iris would be too busy in her new life to think of her.
“Unless, of course, you yourself have a husband by that time.”
“I doubt that, Iris. I have met most of the eligible men of the ton this season. I am not in love nor likely to be. Thank goodness our brother has not badgered me to find a husband.”
The Favor: The Blooms of Norfolk Page 3
