Chapter 1 #2
From her spot by the mantel, Corinna laughed at something Mr. Atherton said, drawing Margaret’s notice. If only Mr. Atherton was a viable—
“When?” Harriet scowled in the same direction.
"She has looked at him, twice." Margaret told her friend in sotto voce. "Both times when his back was turned."
Harriet turned to stare at her. "When? How did you—"
"Because I was watching her," Margaret said matter-of-factly. "And she was being very careful that no one else was." Which was, in all honesty, more sophisticated than she would have thought Corinna capable of being.
Harriet was quiet for a moment. Then the worry marks that had been so prevalent in the last few months appeared upon her brow once more. " I fear it is of little hope at this point. Linthorpe…”
When her friend said nothing else, Margaret turned slightly in her spot to see the countess better. “There’s no reason to sound so despondent.”
Harriet shook her head. “That is, I am not sure he will ever truly recover from losing Alice."
"Your nephew is eight and twenty," Margaret replied evenly. "Too young to live the rest of his life alone." Even if he didn’t fall desperately in love with Corinna, Linthorpe had ample time to find someone with whom to share the rest of his life.
"I don’t disagree in theory," Harriet said, worrying her lip just a bit.
There was something in her friend’s tone that gave Margaret pause. Was something going on? Something else she didn’t know about?
"But Linthorpe is another matter altogether,” Harriet continued as though to smooth over her earlier tone.
“He was devoted to Alice. You know he was. And since her passing, he’s retreated so blindly into his ducal duties that I’m not certain he remembers what it is to want something for himself.
" She glanced once more in Corinna’s direction before taking another sip of her drink.
"And, your Miss Corinna is young. He may not even see her as—"
"He did notice her," Margaret told her friend.
Harriet blinked at her. "I beg your pardon?"
"A few minutes ago. She laughed at something Mr. Atherton said, and Linthorpe glanced toward her. Just for a moment, mind you." Margaret kept her gaze forward, her expression pleasant. "He looked away almost immediately. But I was watching, and he definitely noticed her."
Harriet absorbed this in silence, her ratafia momentarily forgotten.
"Even so," she said at last, carefully. "They may not suit.
He is so serious, and she is so—" she gestured slightly in Corinna's direction, where the girl in question had just made Lucien smile, which was no small feat in and of itself "—Well, she is so very cheerful, isn’t she? I don’t think that word has ever been used to describe Linthorpe even before Alice’s passing. "
"That’s true," Margaret admitted. "And I make no promises. They may find they have nothing whatsoever to say to one another." She smoothed her skirts in front of her. "But we cannot know that until they are properly introduced. This evening will be a good first step.”
“If there’s a spark,” Harriet began hopefully. “Perhaps a fortnight at Acklan together for Daniel’s wedding…”
Which worried Margaret more than a little.
A fortnight at Acklan might do the trick, then again…
“Linthorpe should have gone home to Acklan a month ago.
" She paused. "He avoids it, Harriet. You know he does. After his wife died in that house, he’s found one excuse or another to stay away ever since. "
They were both quiet a moment. The truth of those words weighing on both of them.
Margaret glanced once more at Bernard’s most tenderhearted daughter. “You are right, of course. If Corinna can make Acklan feel like home to him again, that will tell us everything we need to know. But Linthorpe needs to be on his own ground, with time, and without the ability to leave early."
At that, Harriet's expression sharpened. "Agreed.” She nodded most fervently. "Then we can turn our attention to Captain Gates.”
Margaret let her gaze drift to her favorite grandson.
“I am trying to let Lucien manage his own affairs. Should he decide to court Miss Atherton of his own accord, I will hail him as being blessed with inheriting Hythe’s good sense.
But I must see Corinna settled first.” After all, the Beckett fortune was dangling by a thread and parliament’s decision on the salt trade could very well be the end of it all.
Not that Margaret would even breathe those words aloud for fear of bringing them into existence.
The fact remained, however, that getting Corinna properly settled was more urgent than seeing to Lucien’s future, at least for the moment.
Harriet glanced in Linthorpe’s direction. "So, we focus on Corinna, and if Captain Gates does not have the sense to sort himself out, we’ll help him along."
“For now,” Margaret agreed. And as Lucien was the most sensible of her grandchildren, there was hope.
"You know, Margaret, " Harriet began with great feeling, "you are the most brilliant woman I have ever known. So—"
"You are too kind." She cast her friend a sidelong glance. "But you are grinning, Harriet, like the cat that ate the cream. Do stop. If Linthorpe looks over here and sees you, he will suspect something is afoot."
Harriet pressed her lips together at once. "Something is always afoot."
“Indeed, but there is no need for anyone else to be aware of that fact.” Then Margaret turned her focus toward Corinna once more. The girl was still laughing with the small group around her, so joyful, so full of life. How to manage her, how indeed…
Miss Corinna Beckett had never paid quite so much attention to the back of anyone's head. Of course, she was not, as a rule, the sort of woman who required two attempts at a hairstyle or three attempts at a dress either.
And yet here she was, in her third choice of gown with her hair done twice, doing her best to focus on Mr. Atherton's enthusiastic account of Astley's Amphitheatre. It would have been considerably easier if the Duke of Linthorpe wasn't standing approximately twenty feet behind her left shoulder.
She had not looked at him. She was rather proud of herself for not looking at him.
Of course, she had looked once, earlier.
She had timed it carefully, waiting until she was reasonably certain his attention was elsewhere.
Just briefly, just long enough to confirm what she had suspected the moment she walked into the drawing room.
He was exactly as she remembered from the Plumstead ball all those weeks ago.
Linthorpe was tall, fair-haired, and possessed a certain quality of stillness, even in a crowded room.
It was that quality that had first caught her attention some weeks ago.
That and the fact that he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.
Cori had looked away before he could turn around.
Her sister Cara was watching her. Cori could feel it the way she always felt her eldest sister's attention, a warmth at the edge of her peripheral vision that was fond and a little too perceptive for comfort.
Of course, Cait was watching too, in her own way, which was less warm and more like the feeling of being quietly assessed by someone who was very good at keeping their conclusions to themselves.
Both of them knew, of course. Both of them had known for weeks that she was a tiny bit infatuated with the duke, but neither of them had said anything about it this evening, which Cori appreciated enormously.
Still, she had every intention of giving them nothing to report to each other afterward.
"The horses are the most extraordinary part," Mr. Atherton was saying, with an engaging enthusiasm. "They do things on horseback I would not have believed possible if I had not seen them with my own eyes. One fellow stood on the saddle at a full gallop and I am fairly certain my heart stopped."
"Stood on the saddle?" Cori said, her interest genuine. She had heard of Astley's at some point since arriving in London but she still hadn’t yet been. "At a full gallop?"
"At a full gallop," Mr. Atherton confirmed with great satisfaction. "And then he jumped. And landed. Still at the gallop."
"Good heavens," Cori breathed out.
"I nearly fell off my seat," the gentleman agreed. "Which is considerably less impressive but still speaks to the effect."
"Are the horses well treated?" she asked, because she could not help it, and because it was always the first thing she needed to know.
Mr. Atherton blinked at her. "I believe so," he said, more carefully. "They’re magnificent animals. Well-fed, well-muscled, clearly trained with considerable patience. Nothing about them suggested distress."
"Then I should very much like to see a show," Cori declared, as her mind raced with his description of the venue.
"I would be glad to arrange a party," Mr. Atherton said, and Cori had the impression he meant it entirely. "Before everyone leaves London, if you'd like."
"Miss Corinna would probably end up in the ring," Lucien said, from beside her, which from Lucien was the equivalent of a warm compliment.
"I think you are confusing me with Cait,” Cori said. “I would be very well-behaved, Captain Gates. On that I can promise you.”
"I have never confused the two of you before," Lucien replied dryly. “No, no, I can just imagine you in the ring, making certain all the horses were happy and doing exactly what they wanted and beholden to no one else.”
She laughed at the image he painted. He had known her since she was in leading strings and was rather accurate in his depiction.
All things considered, this evening was going rather well. Whatever else happened or didn’t happen tonight, she was in pleasant company in a warm room and was glad to be there. Of course, she’d been glad about coming since the duchess first mentioned it.