The Wedding Season Page 16

  His dark eyebrows arched. “Are they? Then we should tell Mr. Blake he must cease his etchings and devote himself solely to his poetry.”

  “Oh, you know of William Blake?” She wasn’t exactly certain why, but Elizabeth reveled in their mutual knowledge of the obscure artist. “I believe Papa plans to purchase one of his paintings. He is not widely known but quite gifted.”

  “I agree. Well, then, I’ll join you in sketching, though I fear I’ve not much talent for it.”

  “Mama can bring out the best in anyone.” Elizabeth’s pride in Mama’s skill vied for preeminence with her present enjoyment of Mr. Lindsey’s company. She noticed for the first time the silver flecks in his blue eyes and wondered if she could capture that shade on her palette. Yes, it was just as well that they were joining Mama. Too much private discourse with Mr. Lindsey could be dangerous to her peace of mind.

  “I should like to spend time with Mrs. Moberly.” Mr. Lindsey’s expression brightened. “I had hoped to ask her about America.”

  “You must permit me to warn you off that topic.” Elizabeth gave a mock shudder. “She has been cross with her home country ever since the thirteen colonies rebelled against the Crown and formed their own government.”

  Mr. Lindsey returned an exaggerated gasp, even as his eyes twinkled. “I thank you, Miss Elizabeth. You’ve saved me from a grave blunder.”

  After a shared moment of laughter, their conversation moved to the garden. Elizabeth gave him a tour and stood quietly by as he questioned George, the gardener, about the orange and lemon trees and the variety of herbs. His eagerness to learn impressed her, for here was a man diligent in all his duties, an admirable quality. She could just imagine how well he tended his own property, however large or small it might be.

  She confessed to herself she enjoyed the gentleman’s company. Last night, he had fit right into this household like an old friend, like the dear people her eldest brother and sister had married. How easy it was to forget why he was here. And to forget her vow to marry only a peer. But somehow she must not forget, must turn her thoughts back to Lord Chiselton.

  Last night when she and Pru had retired to their shared bedchamber, her cousin had fallen right to sleep. Thus Elizabeth had had no chance to relate Lord Chiselton’s parting words. Yet somehow she felt certain that, despite the viscount’s seeming arrogance and self-centeredness, what he’d said to her privately yesterday afternoon could change her entire opinion of him…and her future.

  Chapter Ten

  “You have underestimated your skill, Mr. Lindsey.” Elizabeth peered over the gentleman’s shoulder at the drawing of Jamie’s spaniel. The dog lay in front of the parlor’s blazing fireplace staring toward the door in anticipation of his master’s return. They had agreed the beast made the perfect subject for their artistic endeavors. While Mr. Lindsey’s proportions were somewhat off, his depiction of the dog’s winsome black eyes showed promise.

  “I thank you, Miss Elizabeth.” He set down his charcoal and wiped his fingers on a cloth. “May I return the compliment?” Studying the picture on her easel, he tilted his head, glancing from the spaniel to her drawing, then to his own illustration. “Ah, I see my error. The ears should sit lower.”

  Smudging the darker lines with the cloth, he picked up the charcoal stick and began making his corrections. As he concentrated on his subject, his countenance took on a most charming and youthful look, like that of an eager student who has just discovered a new principle. He glanced at her and smiled. “The spaniel is devoted to his master, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, and obedient as well. He’ll stay right there until Jamie returns.”

  Thinking of returns, Elizabeth could not imagine what was keeping Mama. She’d put them both to work on their drawings, then traipsed off to greet Papa when he returned from his morning ride. Now Elizabeth must consider how their being alone in the drawing room might look to an unexpected guest—Lord Chiselton, for instance. Still, a footman stood outside the open parlor door, so she doubted anyone would find the situation improper.

  In any event, she felt entirely safe and comfortable in Mr. Lindsey’s company. Too comfortable, actually. And despite the long silences between Mr. Lindsey and herself, the longer Mama was absent, the more Elizabeth hoped she would continue to delay her return.

  Which was nonsense, of course. She’d met this gentleman only yesterday under the most awkward circumstances for her family. How could she possibly have become so fond of his companionship in such a short time?

  “What do you think?” Mr. Lindsey leaned back from his work and frowned.

  “I was just thinking—oh.” Elizabeth realized his meaning just in time to keep from saying exactly what she’d been thinking. “That you do possess artistic talent.”

  Despite the rain, Wilkes arrived the next afternoon in Philip’s traveling coach, the bold fellow having learned of his location at Bennington Manor. He brought with him clothing, letters and Father’s Wogdon and Barton dueling pistols. Fortunately for Philip’s standing with the Moberly family, Wilkes had tucked the weapons in his clothes trunk and didn’t reveal them until he and Philip were alone in the guest room.

  “Just in case, sir.” Wilkes wore his usual blank expression, except for the hard glint in his eyes.

  An uneasy feeling crept through Philip. “Is Miss Lindsey well?” Lucy had never been given to hysterics, but she’d also never been betrayed by a fiancé. Perhaps a duel would be necessary after all. Christian or not, he couldn’t permit her to be utterly crushed. Honor would require that he demand satisfaction from Whitson and prevent him from destroying another young lady’s health and future.

  “I believe her letter will provide that information, sir.” The briefest frown bent Wilkes’s eyebrows before his face once again became a mask.

  Philip slumped into the desk chair. “Best read it right away.” He accepted the letters from his valet, one each from his sister, his brother and his steward.

  Apprehension filled his chest as he broke the first seal, but Lucy’s news wasn’t what he expected. Instead, she wrote that their kinsman, Stratford Lindsey, had died the day Philip had left for Hampshire. This distant cousin had never been in good health, but they’d all prayed he would enjoy a long life. “Perhaps if I had accepted his proposal instead of Mr. Whitson’s,” Lucy said, “his health would have improved.”

  Philip must post a letter tomorrow to assure his sister she bore no fault for Stratford’s demise. He’d been a man of great faith, and they could rest assured of seeing him in heaven when their own times came.

  Although Philip’s heart wrenched at the sad news, he also experienced relief that he wouldn’t have to be God’s instrument in another, less honorable man’s demise. For Lucy went on to say she’d resigned herself to Whitson’s true character and felt grateful she’d been spared a lifetime with him. Brave girl! He prayed she hadn’t written that for his benefit. Of course, her acceptance of the situation didn’t absolve Whitson of his duty to return the dowry, but it made Philip far less inclined to demand satisfaction in a duel.

  But Stratford’s departure now placed another weight upon Philip’s shoulders that he could hardly contemplate. Would not contemplate until the final cog in God’s machinery fell into place. Perhaps the Almighty, in His great mercy, would grant him a reprieve.

  The two-day drizzle grew into a rare summer storm that threatened to delay the arrival of Uncle Bennington’s London solicitors. The dismal weather also put into jeopardy Aunt Bennington’s summer garden party, a tradition at Bennington Manor for over half a century.

  “The event was instituted by our grandfather, the second Lord Bennington,” Elizabeth explained to Mr. Lindsey over an afternoon game of whist. “It began as a replacement for the annual Midsummer Eve festival, which of course is pagan in origin. Grandpapa could not countenance such celebrations, yet he and Lady Bennington desired some sort of diversion after the London Season. They decided to hold a large garden party a week or more after Summe
r Solstice so as to make a distinction. When Parliament lingers, of course, it must sometimes be postponed until July.”

  Jamie won the trick and gathered his cards. “We have bowling, billiards, dancing, racing, grouse hunting, that sort of thing. It goes on for days until everyone is agreeably exhausted and goes home.”

  Mr. Lindsey’s bemused expression spoke clearly of his disinterest. He would hardly be welcomed at her aunt and uncle’s annual party. “Oh, dear. We did not mean to advertise an event that will exclude you.” She had noticed his sober demeanor ever since the arrival of his valet, but did not think it her place to inquire about the cause.

  “Ah. Of course. Sorry, old man.” Jamie gave an apologetic shrug. “I’m not much for all that myself. I know the girls are expected to attend, but I’d prefer to stay home and read.”

  “Oh, Jamie, what nonsense.” Pru laughed as she dealt the next hand. After a day abed, she’d regained her color and joined them for the afternoon activities.

  Mr. Lindsey’s eyes and crooked smile exuded lighthearted amusement, and Elizabeth’s heart skittered about within her. “You’ve all been most generous in entertaining me. I believe when the time comes I can manage on my own for a few days.”

  “Oh, indeed.” Jamie covered an artificial yawn with his free hand. “You can spend your time reading Johnson.”

  Mr. Lindsey laughed. “So the ladies told you about that. I don’t suppose I’ll ever be free of that incident, shall I?”

  “Not in this house.” Jamie fanned his cards and smirked.

  Mr. Lindsey’s good humor and graciousness only added to Elizabeth’s admiration. Try though she might, she could not find a single fault in the gentleman, despite her attempts to give Lord Chiselton first place in her thoughts. Nor had the viscount done anything to ensure her interest, such as calling upon her. Of course the storm made travel difficult and perhaps even dangerous. Still, the significance of his parting words had begun to fade from importance. Had he been harmlessly flirting with her? Surely not. He was her best hope for the type of marriage she wanted. Where else in her neighborhood was she likely to encounter a peer?

  “Are you going to play?” Jamie nudged Elizabeth’s arm.

  “Oh. Yes.” She laid a trump card on the leather-topped table, then snatched it up. “Oops. I have a diamond after all.”

  Jamie crowed. “And now we all know you have the king of clubs.”

  Even Mr. Lindsey grimaced at her blunder. “An interesting move, to be sure.” But no censure colored his look or tone.

  Pru sent her a playful grin. “What were you thinking about, Beth?” The silly way she batted her eyelashes brought heat to Elizabeth’s cheeks. Pru knew Elizabeth’s thoughts all too well. Knew all her secrets. Even what the viscount had said. And frowned upon every word.

  Chapter Eleven

  Crouched behind a large cabinet, Philip hid with his back against the wall listening to the giggles coming from the nursery down the corridor. Through the open door across from his position, he could see Miss Elizabeth’s skirt draped on the floor behind an upholstered chair. She peered at him around the chair, and he motioned toward her skirt. Nodding her appreciation, she quickly tucked it and herself out of sight.

  Jamie was nowhere to be seen, but he owned a reputation for being the best at hiding. Philip felt a strong urge to challenge that reputation, but he didn’t know the house well enough and would probably find himself in a room inappropriate for a guest to enter. How easy it was to forget his status among these people who treated him as a family member.

  The children finished counting to one hundred, and the governess, Miss Alistair, clapped her hands. “Go on now. Find them.”

  Philip could hear the children’s light steps as they dashed from the nursery. Within moments, they trekked past him, led by eleven-year-old Frances. Philip had no doubt she saw him from the corner of her eye, but she blocked the view from her little cousins and hurried them along, urging them to keep looking.

  Philip couldn’t decide whether to surprise them or to race to the nursery before they could catch him. Experiences these past days taught him they took particular delight in being startled, so startling won out.

  He stood, raised his arms overhead, and bellowed “Roar!” The sound echoed throughout the corridor.

  All four children shrieked loudly enough to shatter the windows at the head of the staircase. As they fell into giggles, he lumbered like a bear down the center carpet of the passageway with the children fast on his heels. The two boys latched onto his legs and dragged him down before he reached the safety of the nursery door.

  He landed on his belly and, for the briefest moment, saw only black. Shaking his head, he pulled in a lungful of dusty, humid air and rolled over, grabbing one twin and tickling him until the child shrieked again. He couldn’t yet tell one from the other, but he thought this was Guy. Lewis, in the meantime, was attacking Philip’s head with a small pillow.

  “Quarter. Quarter,” Philip roared. “I demand quarter.” Seated on the floor, he looked up just in time to see Captain Moberly reach the top of the staircase, remove his pipe from between his teeth and stare at Philip as if he were a lunatic.

  Philip suddenly remembered himself, and his entire head and body ignited with embarrassment. “Uh, good afternoon, Captain.”

  The captain’s eyes brightened, and he seemed to struggle not to laugh. “Never surrender, Mr. Lindsey. They’ll use it against you next time.”

  “Grandpapa,” the twins cried in unison, then left their prey and attacked the older gentleman.

  Moberly deftly evaded their clutches and scooped one up in each arm. “You see, Lindsey, you must outwit them.”

  “Mr. Lindsey!” Miss Elizabeth dashed up the hall with the two little girls behind her. “Are you all right?” Although her concern seemed genuine, she did rush past him into the nursery and grab her prize, a pink confection. “Ha.” She held it high and grinned at her nieces. “I win.” She popped the sweet into her mouth.

  An odd but pleasant feeling filled Philip’s chest. He’d never met such a delightful young lady.

  Amid whines and complaints, everyone agreed Miss Elizabeth was the victor. All but Jamie. He was nowhere to be seen. A vote was taken, and they decided to reverse the ploy and not seek him out. Just the sort of thing Philip might do to his own brother.

  These games reminded him of his escapades in happier times at home, and a painful dart struck his heart. He plucked it out, forbidding its poison to infect him with bitterness. God had given him a happy childhood and a beloved sister and brother. He’d be grateful for his blessings, be grateful for his brief time with this dear family and look to the Almighty for the future.

  Outside her own family, Elizabeth had never known a gentleman who participated in games with children with such abandon as Mr. Lindsey. Why, he was anything but taciturn, as she’d first thought.

  But in quieter moments, she also noticed his countenance became sober and sadness emanated from his eyes. Surely after these four days, with hour after hour in each other’s company, she could inquire about the cause of his melancholy without a breach of propriety.

  Late in the afternoon, she found him in the library reading Papa’s Naval Gazette. Not wishing to overdo a joke, she refrained from asking why he was not reading the dictionary. Further, that sort of teasing would set the wrong tone for the more sober conversation she planned to introduce.

  “Does the Gazette address the French issue?” Oh, bother. Another poor beginning.

  Mr. Lindsey looked up, and his face brightened. “Miss Elizabeth.” He set the newspaper aside and stood, giving her a slight bow. “I fear my mind was wandering rather than gathering information.” The welcoming smile he gave her sent a pleasant shiver up her spine.

  “Well then, we have something in common.” She waved him back to his chair and sat across from him. “I can never find anything to keep me awake in those periodicals.”

  His deep chuckle wrapped around her shoulde
rs like a cozy blanket, while the mild scent of his woody shaving balm mingled with the odors of old books and tobacco.

  “Have you recovered from this morning’s adventures?”

  He shook his head. “Not at all. I hope never to recover from such an enjoyable experience. Your nieces and nephews are remarkable children. Utterly delightful.”

  “Have you been around children much?” Elizabeth’s family was overrun with offspring, and she could not imagine any other way to live.

  “No, to my regret.” A hint of sadness did cross his eyes, reminding Elizabeth of why she had sought him out. “But,” he continued, “I am close to my brother and sister, both of whom are younger than I. In these six years since our parents’ deaths, I’ve been almost a parent to them.”

  “Ah. Very admirable, but a large burden for a young man to bear.”

  His eyes searched hers. What was he looking for? She felt a sudden inadequacy to address any matter of importance with him.

  Philip could hardly resist the sympathy emanating from Miss Elizabeth’s blue eyes. But as much as he wished to empty his aching soul to her, he couldn’t think a young miss of eighteen years should be thus burdened.

  “I sense, sir, that something other than your sister’s unfortunate situation has caused you sorrow.”

  Ah, how she did surprise him at every turn. His emotions threatened to erupt, so he looked away and stared out the tall windows at the beautiful scenery. The storm had at last blown over, leaving the land lush and verdant, and sunlight painted sparkling emerald swaths across the dark green landscape. At home such a sight never failed to gladden his heart, but now it only brought him added sorrow, reminding him how far he was from the home he loved—and from the people in his care. They should always be his first thought and his first concern, he reminded himself, no matter how easy it was to be distracted by Miss Elizabeth’s charming company.