Chapter Seven
T hat evening was the first entertainment in the conservatory. Brilliance had presented Lord Hewitt with an apple and another orange during the day after returning from the stream. He had pocketed both with a bemused expression.
“I shall have to determine what to give you in return, my lady,” he said.
“I need nothing,” she assured him. “Why would I?”
Brilliance hoped her mother’s remedy was easing his stage fright, but there was no way to be certain. All she could do was push Lord Hewitt a little each time the opportunity presented itself. To that end, she penciled in his name on the performance sheet that had been resting upon the table in the drawing room all afternoon.
Between dinner and supper, when they were all gathered in the music room, after an uncomfortably ear-splitting operatic performance by Lady Georgiana, who had the lungs necessary but no ability to control her notes, Lady Twitchard glanced at the roster.
Brilliance noticed her expression of surprise. Then their hostess looked over at her cousin. Still, she hesitated.
At last, she said, “Lord Hewitt, do you intend to play for us?”
Brilliance, along with everyone else, turned in his direction to where he was seated between two female guests. His cheeks blazed a ruddy color.
“I do not,” he said emphatically.
“Oh, do play us a tune,” the lady to his left said. It was Miss Newton, and Brilliance hoped he would be courteous and do as she asked.
He crossed his arms and ignored her.
“It is only that your name appears next on the list,” Lady Twitchard said.
“How can that be?” he demanded, unfolding his arms. “That’s impossible!”
Brilliance knew she ought to say something. She had embarrassed him and their hostess. But she couldn’t quite get herself to confess in front of everyone. Regardless, by the way Lord Hewitt’s sidelong glance pierced her where she sat, he had ascertained it was her doing.
“Moving along,” Lady Twitchard said, “Lady Martine will play the piano.”
Brilliance had heard her friend play before and settled in for a pleasant performance. After another lady sang quietly but on key and one of the gentlemen gave a dramatic reading from a translation of Homer’s Iliad , the evening’s performances were at an end.
“What of Lady Brilliance?” came Lord Hewitt’s deep voice, cutting through the rustling sounds as people rose to their feet.
“Her name is not on the list,” Lady Twitchard said. “No guest may summon another to perform.”
“Is that so?” Lord Hewitt said.
Brilliance understood the meaning of his message. And then she had an idea.
“I will play something,” she offered. Perhaps she could show him how little there was to fear, and also how grand was his skill compared to hers. Rising to her feet, she stared straight back at Lord Hewitt. He merely shrugged.
“To put it mildly,” she said as she approached the piano, “I am not very good, but neither was Lady Georgiana, so I suppose it is acceptable to inflict myself upon you. We are all amateurs and among friends, are we not?”
Everyone resumed their seats except for Lady Georgiana, who walked out with her head high. Oh dear! Brilliance hoped she hadn’t offended her. She had assumed the lady knew how dreadful she was and opted to perform, anyway.
From Lady Twitchard’s stack of music, she picked out something that didn’t appear too difficult. Settling herself on the stool, Brilliance spread the sheets out and began.
Luckily, she remembered how to read the notes, at least some of them, but she was painstakingly slow to work out each one and its corresponding key. She ignored the black ones entirely. Not at all sure the tune was recognizable, even to herself, she soldiered on with long hesitations between notes, keeping her left pointer finger on the music so she wouldn’t lose her place while letting her right hand do all the work.
After a few minutes, which probably was only three but felt like thirty, Brilliance stopped. She might have still been in the middle of the last page, but she could not continue punishing the other guests. She had done her best, but it was painfully obvious she was no better at playing the piano than she was at painting or at fishing. She hadn’t caught a single thing in the two hours she’d stood by the stream. And now, she’d butchered a popular piece of music beyond recognition.
Still, everyone clapped as they had for each of the other guests while hastening to their feet and hurrying from the room.
Brilliance stayed back. She would have to apologize to Lady Georgiana when next she saw her, hoping the lady had gone ahead to the drawing room where they would play cards.
When the conservatory emptied, Lord Hewitt was still there.
“I cleared the room quickly, didn’t I?” Brilliance remarked. “The others feared another clownish nick-ninny was going to try to perform after me.”
He eyed her speculatively. “That was brave of you.”
“Not particularly,” Brilliance disagreed, wanting to play down the courage it took in case he didn’t have it himself. “I imagine, however, it would have been far easier for me and much more enjoyable for the listeners had I your talent.”
“Indubitably,” he agreed. “You are probably the worst piano player I have ever had the misfortune to hear.”
“And you are among the best,” she said. He showed no emotion. “You seem like a reasonable man,” she added.
“I am.”
“But you’re not,” she pointed out. “You have this immense talent and refuse to share it.”
“You ought to put it out of your head.” He crossed his arms. “I choose with whom I shall share my music.”
“A music miser!” she declared.
Instead of annoying him, he grinned. Then he laughed before retorting, “I suppose that can be etched upon my headstone.”
She pursed her lips. “I am sure in the end you would like something more complimentary, such as ‘A gifted composer.’”
He sighed. “You are like a dog with a bone. Besides in the end , as you say, I won’t give a fig about what is written.”
“Do you enjoy charades or pantomimes?” she asked.
“Of course. I am not a savage.”
That surprised her. After all, those party games were as like a performance as not, and often with much more sport being made of the performer.
“Indeed, I am quite good at them,” Lord Hewitt continued. “Shall we be partners tonight?”
The man was a conundrum. Feeling a little miffed that she had embarrassed herself for nothing, Brilliance shrugged and strolled past him.
“Cards, tonight, my lord,” she reminded him. “Charades are tomorrow evening.”
Card games were great fun. Brilliance adored playing them. By midnight, when they were all bidding each other good night and leaving the drawing room by ones and twos, her only regret was that Lady Georgiana was still standoffish. Although the young lady said a polite “good evening” to Martine who stood nearby, her gaze passed over Brilliance as if she were invisible.
When she tried to apologize, Lady Georgiana snubbed her and walked out of the room. In the morning, Brilliance would try to make amends.
“A good first day,” Martine remarked as they climbed the stairs.
“It was, wasn’t it?” Brilliance agreed. “And so many activities to come.” They made their way to their wing, with half a dozen guest rooms for the single ladies.
“You seem taken with Lord Hewitt,” Martine remarked since they were alone.
“He is a dash-fire gentleman, don’t you think?”
Martine shrugged delicately and said, “I prefer the fair looks of Lord Patterson, but I think he has eyes for you.”
Brilliance sighed. “I am not the least interested in him. I am sorry if he sees some unintended encouragement on my part.”
“Men need little actual encouragement in my opinion. They want what they want, or whom they want.” She sighed. “But tread carefully with Lord Hewitt. He has deep, still waters if you ask me.”
With those words, her friend kissed her cheek and entered her room.
Puzzled by Martine’s remarks about Lord Hewitt’s water, Brilliance heard a door click closed as she passed. When she reached her own room, she undressed by herself, having dismissed Belinda for the evening after her maid helped her change for supper. Exhaustion quickly took her to the Land of Nod.
When Brilliance awakened, finding Belinda already opening her window curtains, she recalled what they would be doing as a group after breakfast. Riding . While she admired horses, as for being atop one, she hadn’t much practice. When younger, she’d been timid about the distance from the saddle to the ground, and while eventually overcoming her aversion, Brilliance hadn’t pressed herself to become a skilled horsewoman.
Regardless, there was one thing about riding she could look forward to — her new tawny-colored riding outfit, with its sable-brown piping. Belinda was laying it out across the bed for after breakfast. If Brilliance had to ride horseback in order to wear it, then that was the price she would willingly pay.
Hopefully, Lord Hewitt would find her fetching.
Breakfast was a hurried affair that morning, as most were eager to get underway. And their hostess had instructed her staff to put out a meager fare compared to the previous morning’s generous offering.
Eating toast and jam with Martine, Brilliance kept her gaze trained upon the door but saw neither hide nor hair of Lord Hewitt. However, while discussing the meaning of deep waters with her friend, she noticed Lady Georgiana enter. Still trying to make amends, Brilliance waved her over.
“Good morning,” Brilliance addressed her. “The chocolate is delicious this morning, won’t you have some?” And she made to pour the lady a cup from the pot on their table.
Lady Georgiana sniffed. “I prefer tea,” and she kept on walking, taking a seat at a neighboring table with Miss Newton.
Brilliance sighed. “I only wanted to offer her my sincere apology.”
“Let her eat her breakfast in peace,” Martine advised. “There will be plenty of time today to say you are sorry. It was dreadfully rude of you, by the way.”
Brilliance felt tears prick her eyes. “I must learn to think before I speak,” she agreed. “But I will make it up to her.” After another slice of buttered toast and a dish of strawberries with cream, they rose to leave, with Brilliance giving one more look toward Lady Georgiana.
“Leave her for now, Bri,” Martine advised. And they went upstairs to change before meeting the other guests in the stable yard.
Finally, Lady Twitchard disclosed their destination to be Roman ruins. “Let us hope none of us lose our way, for I think you will all find them interesting.”
“Like a treasure hunt,” Brilliance said to Martine, “but without any treasure.”
“Without any treasure,” her friend repeated, “but the treasure is the main part of the hunt.” Her tone was light and teasing. Martine was clever in a way Brilliance knew she herself was not, but her friend seemed never to mind her lapses in intellect.
However, Lady Georgiana, in a navy-blue riding habit that set off her blonde curls to perfection, overheard. “And thus not like a treasure hunt at all,” she said, shaking her head as if Brilliance were the stupidest creature alive.
Lord Hewitt, who had just arrived at the stable, took Brilliance’s thoughts away from the mean-spirited lady. He looked fine indeed in his riding clothes. Before she could greet him, the Colonel gave a loud whistle to secure the guests’ attention.
“Everyone, find a partner, male or female,” he said. “Let us ride before the sun gets too high in the sky.”
Bold as brass, Lady Georgiana strolled toward Lord Hewitt. “I love riding,” she declared. “Will you partner with me, my lord?”
“I shall, my lady,” he responded.
Drat! Brilliance had let two opportunities escape her, both to apologize to Lady Georgiana and to partner with Lord Hewitt.
“You are stuck with me,” Martine said, following Brilliance’s gaze toward the couple who preceded them to the mounting block. One by one, they were given a suitable horse, deemed so by the head groom after he asked each guest a few questions as to his or her ability.
“I certainly insulted the wrong person,” Brilliance said after she and Martine were assisted in mounting their horses — gentle mares, for Martine wasn’t much of an eager rider either.
“I know you didn’t mean to be hoggish,” her friend said, “but unquestionably, you put her back up.”
“And yet I cannot believe she didn’t know how terrible she was,” Brilliance said, trying not to fall off the horse nor choke the poor animal by drawing back on the reins. “Lady Georgiana has heard someone singing well before, hasn’t she? I knew what an awful pianist I was.”
“Not everyone is as self-aware as you are,” Martine said.
“I suppose you’re right. Look, there is your Lord Patterson.” The blond gentleman was riding beside Miss Newton.
“Not mine , by any means,” Martine said. “I have gone right off him. He has nothing to recommend him but his looks.”
“He sits a fine horse,” Brilliance remarked, and her friend began to chuckle.
“Sweet Bri, you mean he has a fine seat.”
Brilliance was shocked. “Do you mean Lord Patterson’s posterior? How can you tell from this angle?”
“No, I mean —” Martine didn’t finish. “Never mind. I hate to say it, but in my conversations with him thus far, I thought him self-absorbed and shallow.”
Brilliance agreed but wouldn’t have said anything in case her friend had been enamored.
Martine shrugged. “Lord Hewitt has a fine seat, too.”
Brilliance startled. He was up ahead in the main group while she and Martine had been among the last to mount up. His back was arrow-straight, and his riding coat of dark gray fit him perfectly.
Although she was always grateful for Martine’s loyal friendship, Brilliance couldn’t deny a part of her wished she was riding beside Lord Hewitt. He seemed to be speaking animatedly about something to Lady Georgiana, who was hanging upon his every word, and she longed to know what he was so enthusiastic about. It wouldn’t surprise her if the lady — and all the other female guests — were growing a tendre for the pianist.
That would be awkward indeed, for Brilliance could well imagine warning them away from the gentleman who was swiftly and thoroughly capturing her attention in a way no man had ever done before.
The instant attraction in the conservatory combined with their kisses were assuredly a sign of destiny.
Suddenly, Lord Hewitt turned as if feeling her gaze. He tipped his hat in her direction before facing forward again, and a pleasant warmth spread through her. It quickly died when Lady Georgiana turned as well, smirking smugly as if she knew of Brilliance’s interest.
“If I can see that you are aware of Lord Hewitt’s good qualities,” Martine said, “then others can, too. Including Lord Hewitt, himself. That would give him too much power over you, I fear. Proceed with caution, Bri. I urge you most adamantly.”
Brilliance nodded. She would not deny the truth, at least to herself, yet she knew it most improper to mention the kisses even to her good friend. Martine would disapprove of her distinct lack of caution, and Brilliance would hate to lose her friend’s respect no matter how full her heart already was with ... something special for him.
“Let us speak of anything besides men,” she suggested to Martine.
They brought up the rear, trotting, cantering, galloping, and walking. By the time they reached the ruins, forty minutes later, Brilliance was ready to dismount and wouldn’t care if she ever rode again.
“Was it your first time riding?” Lady Georgiana asked loudly, her tone dripping with antagonism. “You looked positively petrified. So stiff and awkward. We feared you might topple off at any moment.” Then she allowed Lord Hewitt to assist her in dismounting, giving no doubt as to whom she meant by “we.”
Brilliance stopped herself from sticking her tongue out by clenching her jaw. After all, it was her own fault. She had made an enemy, one who would bring up her every flaw — and Brilliance knew she had many. Suddenly, the week stretched out before her as one long opportunity to be derided and mocked.
Moreover, she didn’t like the way Lady Georgiana had launched herself off the side of the horse, so Lord Hewitt had no choice but to catch her, nor the way she seemed to slide down his body.
Waiting atop her mare, hoping he would also help her to dismount, instead Lord Patterson arrived first.
“May I offer you assistance?” he asked.
She glanced to where Lord Hewitt was taking Lady Georgiana’s arm, turning toward the ruins.
“Yes, thank you, my lord.” Unfortunately, as she unhooked her leg from the upper pommel, her treasured new skirt caught, making her tumble awkwardly onto him.
Lord Patterson yelped, trying to keep them both from toppling over, and succeeded in drawing every eye their way. With most of her riding habit still above her head, Brilliance could feel the cool air on her legs and let out a matching yelp of surprise.
Even Lord Hewitt and Lady Georgiana turned back toward the ruckus. The lady burst out laughing, and Brilliance was further from wanting to give her an apology than ever.
With a vicious tug, she managed to free her skirts from the saddle. Ignoring any continued snickering, not daring to look in Lord Hewitt’s direction, Brilliance smoothed the front of her habit, no longer wondering if he found her fetching. She only hoped the horse had hidden her nether regions from any of the guests on the other side of it.
“Are you steady now?” Lord Patterson asked, his own cheeks having ruddied somewhat at her clumsy display.
“Yes, thank you. I appreciate how you kept me from ending up prostrate at your feet. Shall we go see the ruins?”
As a group, Lady Twitchard’s party guests swarmed what once was a Roman farmhouse as well as a nearby personal family temple. Lord Hewitt had disappeared ahead, still being monopolized by Lady Georgiana. Martine was speaking with their hostess probably about the ruins, as her friend had an interest in history.
For the better part of ten minutes, Brilliance climbed over low walls and tried to imagine what would have happened in each area of the farmhouse. Lord Patterson remained doggedly nearby, jabbering in her ear about his own estate in Norfolk, until a female guest dropped her fan beside him. It was an obvious ploy, indicating the lady’s interest, and for which Brilliance was exceedingly grateful.
While he retrieved the fan, she excused herself and escaped at a quick pace toward some wild shrubs. When Brilliance rounded a clump of golden dock growing up in the middle of a stone wall, she entered what was left of the pagan temple, which would have belonged to the farmer and his family.
Lord Hewitt stood in the center with his back to her. Alone .
Brilliance sighed. It seemed they were destined for one another after all. She picked her way across the rutted ground, about to say his name, when Lady Georgiana poked her head through an archway closer to him. At once, her gaze fell upon Brilliance, and she smirked.
“There you are, my lord,” the lady called to him. “I thought I had lost you. I am ready to move on. It has grown too crowded here.”
As Lord Hewitt turned, he caught sight of Brilliance. But Lady Georgiana had already reached his side.
Stopping in her tracks, Brilliance wished there was something she could pretend to be admiring or looking at, any reason at all for her having been behind the gentleman other than quietly studying him.
Fixing her gaze on the smallest of crumbling alcoves as if she was looking at the famed Roman Colosseum her brother had once visited, she tried to appear casual.
Then she heard him address her. “Lady Brilliance, Lady Georgiana and I were about to stroll to the top of the hill and see the view,” he said. “Would you care to join us?”
Us? Brilliance would rather gnaw her own arm off than tag along.
“Thank you, no.”
By then, other guests had made their way into the temple. Bringing up the rear was Colonel and Lady Twitchard.
“Good day, everyone,” she said. “I hope you have already worked up an appetite. Please come this way.”
She and her husband stepped through a stone archway and disappeared around the half wall. As other guests trailed behind, they exclaimed in delight at something just out of sight.
Brilliance watched Lord Hewitt and Lady Georgiana follow. At least now they couldn’t go on their private stroll. When Brilliance went through the arch, however, and passed the half wall, she found a rustic picnic area had been set up by Lady Twitchard’s capable staff.
“It was a treasure hunt of sorts,” Brilliance said when she joined Martine, happy that soon she would enjoy a glass of lemonade. Even happier that Lady Georgiana’s intent to be alone with Lord Hewitt had been thwarted.
In no time, the guests were seated on two large woolen blankets, the ladies all tucking their skirts around their legs and the gentlemen trying to sit in a manly fashion.
Brilliance loved a country outing and a meal outside, but the juxtaposition of indoor elegance with raw nature struck her as funny.
Her ladyship’s elegant tableware had been laid out, and platters of all manner of food, including sliced meats and salads and vegetable dishes were offered where simple sandwiches would have sufficed. The only thing their hostess hadn’t tried to offer were hot dishes.
Napkins were provided and polished silverware, the latter making Brilliance begin to chuckle.
“What is amusing?” Lady Georgiana asked from across the blanket where she sat a wee bit too close to Lord Hewitt. “What can possibly not be to your liking?”
Oh dear! Brilliance looked at Lady Twitchard, who had paused in taking a bread roll to learn the answer.
“ Everything is to my liking, which is why I laughed with joy,” Brilliance answered, earning a smile from their hostess. “Who can be cross and serious at a picnic?” she returned pointedly, hoping Lady Georgiana would stop being such an arse.
Her hope was futile when next the young lady addressed her again.
“I heard that your piano playing was egregious beyond all belief and that I was fortunate to have missed it.”
There was a small, collective gasp as gazes swiveled between the two females, eyeing one another across the spread of food. Brilliance supposed it was what she deserved, but it occurred to her that Lady Georgiana’s words were reflecting badly upon their speaker. If the young lady wasn’t careful, she would lose all the sympathy gained by Brilliance’s own careless remark.
Hardly knowing how to respond, or whether she should say anything, Brilliance couldn’t stop her eyes from seeking out Lord Hewitt’s.
Had he been talking about her while riding with Lady Georgiana?
In the end, Brilliance decided to handle it the way she had hoped Lady Georgiana would have handled an errant remark.
“Why, yes,” Brilliance said, “I believe you were fortunate indeed.”
Lady Georgiana nodded and helped herself to a minced lamb tart. Everyone seemed to be waiting for the next salvo.
“Since you did me a favor by driving me from the conservatory during your awful performance, I forgive your rudeness,” Lady Georgiana continued.
Brilliance had wanted to offer an apology first, yet having been already publicly forgiven, it now seemed pointless.
“Thank you,” she said, not feeling the least grateful since Lady Georgiana hadn’t behaved with an ounce of graciousness. Without stopping to consider, Brilliance added, “If only you had done me a similar favor.”
By the look on Lord Hewitt’s face, a mixture of surprise and then obvious mirth, Brilliance knew she had been impudent again. This time, purposefully, too, unable to help herself. She was feeling as green-eyed as Othello where he was concerned.
By Lady Georgiana’s frown, she was still working out the latest insult.
Brilliance was beginning to wish fortified wine had been served instead of lemonade. Even if it hadn’t soothed Lady Georgiana, it might have made it easier to stomach her.
When they had all eaten their fill, Lady Twitchard let her husband draw her to her feet. As everyone rose, Brilliance dreaded an announcement that they were to immediately remount their horses.
“The weather is proving amenable,” their hostess said. “Please take your time wandering around the area. Not a furlong away are more modern ruins of a twelfth-century abbey.”
She pointed in a westerly direction.
“And to the south, if you climb the hill, there’s a lovely view of the valley beyond.”
Brilliance was readjusting her bonnet since the ribbon had come loose under her chin when Lord Hewitt appeared beside her.
“Will you take a stroll with me, my lady?”