Chapter Fourteen
The day’s activities included a picnic at noon.
Con, attending his first house party, decided that eating was a large part of the day and was mindful of not overindulging.
He did like the more intimate atmosphere a house party offered, though.
Events of the Season were often large affairs, and he gravitated to those he knew well, which had always included Val and members of their families.
It was nice to get to know others outside his usual sphere.
Lord Samuel was a jolly fellow and entertaining to be around.
He did not have the town polish on him, mainly because he had never been to town.
He had spent his entire twenties serving as Stanfield’s steward.
Con believed the viscount should take a bride from amongst the guests at the house party because Samuel would be entirely lost in the crush of guests at ton events.
Baron Howell was another gentleman that Con had enjoyed getting to know better.
He had guessed correctly that the baron’s wife had been lost in childbirth.
Howell had confided in Con that he hoped to find a wife at this house party, wanting a mother for his daughter, but also wishing for companionship for himself.
He liked the baron’s affable manner. Howell was friendly and rational, and Con believed he cared for his daughter a great deal because he mentioned her frequently.
He had even asked Lady Pebble if he might send for Mary and her nursery governess so that Mary might enjoy the picnic with them today.
Mr. Tompkins had been an interesting choice as a guest. He possessed no title and was an Oxford tutor.
Lord Pebble had confided to Con, though, that Tompkins’ father was not likely to see the end of this year, which would make Tompkins an earl.
He wondered if the ladies present knew of this.
Most likely, they did. A house party was a microcosm of the entirety of Polite Society, and any information about the gentlemen present would be traded amongst the ladies.
He had yet to penetrate Lord Cramer’s walls, however.
Cramer seemed very intelligent. In fact, Con had listened to a discussion between Cramer and Tompkins and found it hard to follow because of its complexity.
He wondered if the earl would be able to set aside his erudite ways, especially if he hoped to find a match at this house party.
Glancing out the window, he saw servants toting chairs and tables to the back lawn in preparation for the picnic.
“It looks as if the picnic will begin soon,” he announced, turning away from the window.
“Oh, I do wish it were being held on the beach,” Lady Jewell said. “Perhaps it could move there instead. I think it would be wonderful to look out on the water as we dine.”
“That would be a bit impractical,” Miss Stanhope told her. “The beach is a good half a mile from where the house sits. It would be difficult to get both food and furniture to it. And then we would sink in the sand.”
“Oh, I had not thought of that,” Lady Jewell said, pouting slightly.
Con thought her a true beauty, but as most ladies, Lady Jewell did not take into consideration what servants went through in order to make things pleasing for a household.
“What we could do on another day is have Cook prepare baskets of food for us,” Miss Stanhope continued. “The gentlemen could carry those baskets down to the beach, and we could have a picnic that way.”
“But what would we sit upon?” Miss Lawson fretted.
“Why, we could take blankets with us and spread them out,” Miss Stanhope told her. “That way, we would not get sand in our clothes.
Con liked how nothing seemed to ruffle Miss Stanhope.
Except his kiss.
He meant what he had told her. He would not bring up kissing again unless she were the one to do so first. He only hoped that she would before the end of the house party.
If he didn’t make any inroads with her by the end of this week, he would be out of luck in pressing his suit.
It wasn’t as if he could woo her next Season because she would not be attending it. That gave him pause.
Was Miss Stanhope the right woman to be his countess?
If she wished to avoid the Season, it would go against everything he wanted.
Con had agreed to a pact with his cousins, established by Ariadne.
Long ago, the ten cousins had been brought to town only once when they were children, all at the same time.
They had immensely enjoyed being together.
Ariadne had suggested as adults that they should all come to town for the Season each spring, bringing their children with them, something members of Polite Society simply did not do.
Ariadne said the Season would be for attending a few social events, but more importantly, it would be a time for family to come together.
The cousins could enjoy each other’s company, and their children would enjoy being brought up surrounded by family.
If Miss Stanhope did not want to come to town, how was he to go to the Season each year without her? Would she even agree to let their children come with him, leaving her behind at Marleyfield?
Con shook his head, knowing he was getting ahead of himself.
He determined that if Miss Stanhope were his countess, she would want to be with him, no matter where they were.
Con believed in love—and he thought he was in love with her.
She had been so amiable that night they had joined Val’s table and seamlessly fit in.
Perhaps Miss Stanhope was opposed to the Season because the ton had not been welcoming to her.
If wed to him, however, she would have a large, loving family who would always greet her with open arms.
But could she love him?
That was the question. And he needed that answer. Soon. Either she would prove open to marriage—and love—or Con would need to move on before his heart became too invested. Already, the thought of a life without Miss Stanhope in it seemed too much to bear.
Lady Pebble appeared in the library. “We can go outside now. Ladies, you will want to retrieve your bonnets and possibly your spencers. It is a bit cool today but not unreasonably so.”
The men had forgone wearing hats during the house party, and that remained the case now.
He accompanied the others, led by Lord Pebble, and they went out onto the terrace and then down to the sprawling lawn.
Several tables had been set up, covered in starched, white tablecloths, set with china and silverware.
A long table had also been set out, and several servants stood behind it, ready to serve them.
He passed one table and noted no name cards were present. Lady Pebble had assigned seats at tea and dinner yesterday, and Con had been far from Miss Stanhope. Today’s picnic presented him with the possibility to eat with her.
Mr. Tompkins joined him, also glancing at the tables and smiling. “I see the seating will be open for our picnic.”
“Do you have a particular lady you wish to sit with?” he asked.
“Miss Lawson,” the tutor said. “I am finding her most interesting.”
Deciding to finally share his own feelings, he revealed, “I am hoping to sit with Miss Stanhope.”
Tompkins grinned. “Then we shall simply have to maneuver them our way, my lord.”
The ladies appeared, and Con found his heart speed up at the sight of Miss Stanhope.
She wasn’t the great beauty Lady Jewell was, but to him, she was very beautiful.
She carried herself with grace. She was intelligent and looked after others, letting him know her heart was in the right place.
He could see her as a mother figure to all his tenants at Marleyfield.
Most importantly, he could picture her with a babe in her arms and others tugging at her skirts. The image brought a smile to his face.
He and Tompkins moved toward the women. It helped that Miss Stanhope and Miss Lawson happened to be walking next to one another as they arrived on the lawn.
Mr. Tompkins said, “Miss Stanhope, Miss Lawson, please come join Lord Marley and me.”
Miss Lawson blushed profusely at the suggestion, while Miss Stanhope curtly nodded her approval.
Together, the four took a table. A footman asked if they cared for tea or coffee and said that wine was also available.
Both ladies asked for tea, and he and Tompkins went along with the same.
The footman told them to go ahead and make their way through the buffet, and he would see the tea delivered to their table.
Mr. Tompkins took Miss Lawson’s elbow in hand, guiding her to the buffet.
“He is interested in her,” Miss Stanhope said.
“He is,” Con confirmed. “He asked if I would join him at this table.”
“And I was also asked because I was standing with Miss Lawson,” she observed.
“Yes, but I would have wished for you to join me at whatever table I sat,” he said, thinking she would appreciate his honesty.
“You know I am not interested in marriage, my lord,” she reminded him as they reached the buffet.
“I am not clear on exactly why,” he told her. “Yes, you have talked of having your freedom, but would you not have more as a married lady? You would no longer need a chaperone to go anywhere. Your income would be assured.”
“I do not use a chaperone now since I am already on the shelf,” she replied blithely. “And thanks to Papa’s generosity, my income is assured and under my control. I do not have to beg for pin money. I will never have to wait upon a husband and get nothing in return.”
“Servants usually wait upon husbands, and you are discounting the love and affection that a husband could bring you.”
“I do not believe in love,” she said flatly.
“Well, I do,” he said stubbornly, taking the plate a footman offered and handing it to her, then accepting one for himself. “I plan to wed for love. I will give my countess plenty of affection. I will consider her my best friend. And she can keep any dowry she has to be used as she likes.”
Con asked for several items to be placed on his plate as they continued down the line.
“Then you are different from most titled lords,” Miss Stanhope said crisply.
He turned, facing her, his gaze penetrating her. “That is what I am trying to tell you.” He stared at her a long moment before looking away.
They reached the sweets, and he chose a pear tart and a slice each of apple pie and chocolate cake. His plate was too full already, and a maid placed the three items on a separate plate, handing it to him.
Looking to Miss Stanhope, he said, “I have sweets for the both of us if you would not mind sharing.”
She gazed at him a long moment. “Thank you.”
They returned to their table, where the discussion was animated.
He had heard that Miss Lawson was shy, but she seemed to be perfectly comfortable in their party of four.
It was apparent that she also seemed to hang upon every word Mr. Tompkins uttered, and the tutor did the same whenever she spoke.
Con turned to Miss Stanhope. “I think we are witnessing the first match being made,” he said quietly.
She smiled. “I agree. Lord and Lady Pebble will be so pleased, especially because it means Miss Lawson will remain in the neighborhood.”
He didn’t know if she smiled at him or the fact that Mr. Tompkins and Miss Lawson seemed inching toward a betrothal. He would like to think it might be both, but Miss Stanhope was one who kept him guessing.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath.
“Did you say something, my lord?” she asked sweetly.
“Not a thing,” he replied, tamping down his frustration.
At least the food was tasty, especially the sweets. He glanced about and saw others were now talking, empty plates being cleared. Lady Pebble’s bell tinkled, gaining everyone’s attention.
“We will begin our lawn games soon,” she informed the group. “The servants will be setting up bowls, as well as battledore and shuttlecock.”
A loud groan came from Lord Samuel, and the viscount volunteered, “I have never played a lawn game, so I will concede now.”
“Nonsense,” his cousin answered. “You cannot give up before even starting. Give all of us the pleasure of beating you, Ollie.”
Everyone laughed at Miss Stanhope’s remark, and the cousins grinned at one another. Lady Pebble came by each table, dividing them up between the two activities.
Glancing at Miss Lawson, the viscountess declared, “You and Mr. Tompkins will be a team. Miss Stanhope, you and Lord Marley can be another one. I will assign you first to battledore and shuttlecock, and you will play one another. Your game will be held over there,” she said, pointing to the far south side of the lawn.
The two couples left their table, going to the designated area. A footman handed each of them a small racket, and both gentlemen received a feathered shuttlecock.
“What do we do?” asked Miss Lawson, clearly never having played before.
Con explained, “In my schooldays, the way we played was whoever kept the shuttlecock going the longest would win.”
The footman said, “Lady Pebble said that whichever team outlasted the other would receive a point. The team to first reach ten points wins.”
“Could we practice a bit first?” asked Mr. Tompkins. “I have not held a racket in years.”
The footman agreed and told both couples where to stand. Con tossed his shuttlecock into the air and hit it toward Miss Stanhope. She returned it, and they kept it going for a half-dozen hits before she swung and missed it.
“This grass is slippery,” she said. “My foot almost slid out from under me.” She paused, obviously thinking. “Wait a moment.”
Placing her racket on the ground, Miss Stanhope sat upon the ground. Then to Con’s surprise, she removed her slippers. Hiking up her gown, he got a view of shapely calves and long, long legs. Then he realized what she was about to do.
“You cannot remove your stockings,” he sputtered.
She smiled, a wicked gleam in her eyes. Slowly, she peeled the stocking down her leg, over her ankle, and removed it from her foot. Now her leg and foot were enticingly bare, causing his mouth to go dry.
“Why, I believe I just did so, my lord. Do you think it gives me an unfair advantage over you?” To emphasize her point, she wriggled her toes.
“Not at all, Miss Stanhope,” he said evenly, sounding as if he had recovered, but he was far from it. His eyes remained fastened upon the curve of her calves as she removed the other stocking.
Then she stood, her gown falling, her legs covered once more. Still, those bare feet proved to be tantalizing.
Glancing to the other couple, she said, “Have you practiced enough? I believe we are ready to begin.”