Chapter Ten
Carrington Abbey was a handsome building that had clearly been expanded over the centuries.
The older portions were low and rambling, though a more recent generation had added a tall, rectangular block as the new main body of the house.
Its crenelated battlements looked more like a Norman castle than a Gothic abbey, but somehow, it still harmonized with the older structure.
“Is there some reason why we’re just standing here rather than knocking on the door?”
Bertie’s whisper broke into Lawrence’s contemplation. “To be honest,” Lawrence whispered back, “I’m nervous. It’s going to be difficult to explain why I’m here.”
“No, it isn’t,” his cousin assured him. “Since you happen to be in Surrey, calling on Lady Carrington to return her needlework is simply good manners.” He pulled a crooked smile. “I am the one who has no excuse.”
Before Lawrence could respond, the front door swung open. The butler stood in the doorway, his expression professionally blank until his eyes rested on Lord Chumford’s traveling chariot. The slight lift of the butler’s eyebrows told Lawrence that he’d seen the coat of arms.
“How may I help you gentlemen?” the butler asked.
Lawrence reached for his card case, only to come up short. His calling cards still read “Lawrence Galliard, Esquire.” Between one thing and another, he hadn’t had time to print new ones.
Bertie, better prepared, handed the butler his card. “His Grace the Duke of Belmont”—he inclined his head to indicate Lawrence—“and I hope to call upon the dowager Lady Carrington and Miss Howell. Are they at home?”
The butler handled this announcement with aplomb. “I shall ascertain that. If you would step into the little salon while I inquire?”
The two noblemen followed the butler into the house, then into a small reception room. Only a few moments later, the butler returned and announced, “The ladies of the house will see you in the morning room.”
The morning room might have been an attractive room, or an ugly one, for all Lawrence cared. The moment the door opened, Lawrence scanned the room for a familiar golden-haired woman. When his eyes met Jane’s, his heart thumped, as if to say, this is the one.
Now, what on earth was he going to do about that? The room was full of other people, most of whom he didn’t know. He had absolutely no desire to declare his tender feelings in front of an audience. He suspected Jane wouldn’t like it, either.
Jane introduced him to the ladies in the room, but Lawrence found it hard to focus. Though Lawrence’s thoughts chased each other in circles, he did notice that Bertie managed to snag a seat next to Miss Howell. Lawrence, luckily, was able to sit next to the dowager.
“What brings you to Surrey, Your Grace?”
For a moment he could only stare, taken aback by the unexpected formality. Ah, right, she had only agreed to call him “Lawrence” in private. In his bewilderment, he forgot the excuse he’d prepared and blurted out the truth. “I came to see you.”
Jane’s eyes widened. They stared at each other silently while his words hung between them. Lawrence hastily provided the explanation he’d meant to give. “I mean, I happened to be in Surrey to examine a property for sale. I thought I should stop by to give you this.”
A flush spread up his neck, all the way to his ears, as he fumbled with his satchel. On the third try, he successfully unbuckled it. He withdrew the workbag with a flourish. “Somehow, this ended up in my valise. I thought you might want it back.”
The smile that illuminated Jane’s face fully compensated Lawrence for his embarrassment. Indeed, the word “smile” hardly seemed adequate to describe her expression.
“My workbag!” she exclaimed. “How kind of you to return it to me. You have saved me hours of work redoing this embroidery, you know. And”—she lowered her voice—“your visit has brightened the whole day. I have rather missed you.” Her cheeks flushed a pale pink.
What a pair of fools we are! Lawrence concluded. Blushing and stammering like lovelorn children! But the longer he gazed into the eyes of his lady-love, the less he minded playing the fool.
*
Sir Roderick and his wife invited Lawrence and Bertie to stay the night. Bertie seemed to be in Heaven, but Lawrence grew increasingly nervous. He could not leave the Abbey without telling Jane about his feelings. There was a connection between them; he was sure of it. She must be aware of it, too.
But what if she did not want to pursue that connection?
Perhaps if he had grown up as the heir to the dukedom, Lawrence would have had the confidence, or rather the arrogance, to assume that any woman he desired would be honored by his attention. But he’d been raised to work for his living, and he lacked the assurance of one to the manner born.
When Jane invited him on a tour of the gardens, Lawrence finally got the chance to speak. Bertie and Miss Howell came along, too, but they trailed farther and farther behind the older couple.
“The youngsters seem to be having trouble keeping up with us,” Lawrence observed. The young couple had stopped walking altogether and were sitting together on a garden bench.
“I suspect it is a deliberate decision.” Jane kept walking, but she peered up at Lawrence. “Has Lord Chumford confided his intentions to you?”
“Not in so many words,” Lawrence admitted. “He may or may not be ready to declare himself. But he is not at all the sort of man to toy with a young woman’s affections, if that is any comfort.”
“It is.” She adjusted her shawl and walked on. “I tried using my enchanted quizzing glass on him, but that only distinguishes between honesty and deliberate falsehood. It cannot tell me whether he only intends a flirtation that might leave Martha heartbroken.”
“Bertie is no more flirtatious than I am!” Lawrence protested.
Jane merely raised her eyebrows, but her implied skepticism sent heat rushing to his face.
Lawrence stopped walking and turned to face his companion. Time to put his courage to the sticking point. “I do not toy with women’s affections, either. I would never want to hurt you, Jane.”
As the silence stretched out, he anxiously tried to read her expression. She looked. . . unhappy? Confused? Unimpressed? Maybe he’d misunderstood her sentiments.
“Of course, we need say no more on this subject, if you wish.” He tried to ignore the sudden tightness in his throat.
“You have hardly said anything at all yet, Lawrence.” Her tone made it a gentle tease rather than a criticism. “Are you about to tell me your intentions? Or would you rather discuss the flowers?”
That put a smile back on his face. “Frankly, I would rather talk about flowers. I never intended to seek a duchess, but—”
She silenced him with an upraised hand. “That is probably for the best, because I am not sure I have any desire to be a duchess. At least, not yet. But if you buy that manor house you mentioned, I could see you more frequently. We could get to know each other better. I would like that.”
“Yes, I have considered that advantage.” It was, in fact, the only reason he was even thinking of buying a property he didn’t need in a county he rarely visited.
Jane’s face turned that pale shade of pink that so charmed Lawrence. “Meanwhile, I have been considering the advantage of being a widow of mature years rather than a young girl.”
Lawrence wrinkled his brows. “What advantage do you mean?”
Her flush deepened, but she looked him steadily in the eyes as she explained.
“A widow is free to travel and socialize without a chaperone, and to, er, enjoy herself as she pleases, with or without the bonds of matrimony. I have never taken a lover before, but I. . . that is, if you would like. . . .”
He cut her babbling short. “I would like. I would like that very much.” He’d had no more than a few casual brushes with women since his wife’s death, but he was game for a long-term affair if it was with Jane.
As they stared into each other’s eyes, the rest of the world faded away.
There was only Jane’s cheerful, comfortable face and her sky-blue eyes, shaded by the brim of a fetching bonnet.
Lawrence desperately wanted to kiss her, but he was afraid of moving too quickly.
He took one cautious step toward her, and then—
“Grandmama!” a high voice shrieked. “Grandmama, look! I found a Maybeetle! It’s the first one I’ve seen this season!”
Sir Roderick’s oldest daughter stood mere yards away, excitedly waving her hand. “Come see!” she begged.
Jane made a face that quickly turned into a wry smile. “I ought to take a look at whatever Lilias has found.”
Lawrence surprised himself by saying, “I had better come along, too. If I want to be part of this family, I will have to learn about beetles, won’t I?”
She chuckled as she slipped her arm through his. “Beetles and meteorites and the rights of women and the best way to make an enchanted tea cake. All that and more! You may want to take notes.”
He joined in her laugh as he followed her into the next stage of his life.
The End