Chapter 15 #2
The conversation flowed around him, relieving him of the obligation to participate.
With such a large party, little was required other than to give the occasional remark or smile.
He glanced discreetly at Amy, sitting at the other table.
The breeze also pulled at the loose curls around her face, giving her a windblown, romantic look.
Unlike some who powdered their hair with a heavy touch to absorb the pomade, she only wore enough to keep it clean and scented.
A bergère straw hat sat on top of her curls, tilted at a jaunty angle and tied with red ribbons under her chin.
She had the fullest, most kissable lips underneath an upturned nose, and he allowed himself to dwell on those for only a minute.
Mr. Gruber was seated at her side and was seemingly using all of his efforts to charm.
James could tell she did not like him by the way she pulled away when they conversed and returned only polite, fleeting smiles to his sallies.
It made him want to go and sit between them, to intercept their conversation—and proximity.
After the meal, Mr. Bridwell sat with others on the rocks jutting from the low hillside, whose form had naturally smooth, dished tops that made for comfortable chairs.
Morry offered his arm to Miss Bainesworth, indicating with his cane another place on the short hill where it was possible to sit.
James’s eyes were drawn back to Amy, who faced away from him and was talking to Mrs. Ferrin.
She was easy to spot in a gown patterned with dark red cherries and green sprouting branches, perfectly suited to their setting.
She turned her face his way, and he averted his eyes.
It was time to find Isabel and discover a way to confront her about the letter.
Now that the meal was over, any disagreement they had could be covered up by an excuse that one or the other was feeling ill and wished to return to town early.
When he looked around, he found Isabel talking to MacFirbis, and his jaw tightened.
Of course! MacFirbis had never gotten over his wish to marry her and had pressed his fruitless courtship by penning a letter inviting her to an assignation.
Come to think of it, he did indeed look as though he was in agony.
The sight of Isabel flirting right in front of him with the very one who was attempting to woo her was more than James could bear.
Still, upon examining his heart, he could not find jealousy there.
She had clearly encouraged the man, and who wished for a wife like that?
It went against the grain for James to hand victory to an opponent, especially when it meant he would give up his living as well, but he could not marry an unfaithful woman.
MacFirbis could have her—if he could manage to keep her.
Isabel’s flirtation grew more outrageous with broad smiles and teasing.
Not far from them, Lambert did the same but with Marianne.
James frowned and glanced at Amy to see if she had noticed, or if her father was aware of the dalliance.
Neither had appeared to see what was happening, especially now that Hannah and Amy were speaking to the princess and Mr. Bridwell was in full discussion with Mr. Batowski.
Amy’s father could not pull his mind from an intellectual debate once he was engaged in it.
James had no choice but to go and intervene.
Lambert made Marianne laugh, and she covered her lips with her fingers, her deep blush proclaiming how much his charm affected her.
The painter would all too easily take advantage of such an open and engaging personality as the young and innocent Marianne.
James advanced in a casual manner, not wishing to cause a scene, which would only make things worse.
He passed by Isabel on his way to reach Marianne.
“Mr. Fletcher, you have come to escort me to a seat at last.” Isabel’s voice was animated and her color high, as was often the case when she was surrounded by men.
“I feared you were going to ignore me the entire picnic. Might I remind you that we are to be married? Those who do not have such an honor are paying me more court than you.”
He returned a feeble smile by way of answer, finding it impossible to match her flirtatious tone.
“I will indeed, if you will be patient for just a moment.” He turned forward again to pursue his goal, and Lambert lifted his eyes to James as he approached.
“Miss Marianne, allow me to bring you to rejoin your sisters.”
He sensed his gaffe as soon as the words left his mouth, and he turned to Isabel in time to see a look of displeasure on her face.
She likely felt publicly snubbed since he had not rushed to do her bidding.
He had not intended such a thing, of course, no matter how cold he felt toward her now.
He had merely meant to get Marianne away from Lambert.
Still, he saw an opportunity to mollify Isabel and achieve his objective and paused in his steps.
“Miss Prexley, I have been remiss in not asking this of you sooner, but I had thought we might return to town on foot. We shall then have time to talk more intimately than this setting allows.”
Her expression thawed, and she glanced at a frowning MacFirbis before returning her regard to James. “If you insist, I will grant your request.”
James nodded and turned forward again. He offered his arm to Marianne, a look of brotherly encouragement in his expression. She hesitated only slightly before slipping her hand around it. They turned away from Isabel and the others, and in doing so he nearly bumped into Amy.
“Miss Bridwell,” he said, his mouth going dry for some reason.
“Marianne, I was coming to fetch you. Papa wishes to set off soon.” Amy scarcely looked at him. “I have not yet asked the princess, but I must give her my company if she wishes to return on foot.”
James released Marianne and bowed to them both with a brief word of farewell and a twisted sense of agony to see reserve in Amy’s expression. He wondered where it had come from, for she had greeted him warmly enough at the start of the picnic.
But there was nothing he could do to rectify things with her until he ended things with Isabel. That must be his priority.