Chapter 13
Deborah had been the last to join the ladies for tea and by the time she entered the parlor, every seat had been taken except for two klismos chairs on a far wall, one place on a settee and an empty mahogany armchair upholstered in a deep blue silk situated beside the empty space on the settee.
As Percy would need a place to sit so that his leg was not strained, she settled onto the settee and left the chair for him.
Though, she wondered why no one had taken the place she now occupied. Did they not want to sit near Percy?
“You have been rather attentive to Shrewsbury since his injury,” Hannah observed in a searching manner.
If her sister had questions or concerns, Deborah wished that she would have asked them in private.
“As you well know, Lord Shrewsbury kept me company the summer that my ankle was fractured while my siblings found their own entertainments.” Hannah had been one of those siblings so she hoped she took the barb as intended.
Deborah then glanced about the room and noted the speculative expressions, but as they were not courting or betrothed, they should be able to draw their own conclusion that she and Percy were friends.
She inwardly smiled.
They were friends, she supposed, and she had missed him.
Yet, it still mattered that he had disappeared so quickly and she intended to find out why before the holiday came to an end, otherwise she would always wonder.
Yes, it may hurt to hear the truth from his lips, but she needed to know.
Yesterday, upon first seeing him after such a long time, fear had claimed her, but could she truly move forward without knowing his reasons for certain?
“He is a family friend,” she added since each woman continued to watch her as if waiting for further information or a confession of her heart, or possibly anything worthy of gossip, which she would not provide.
“Yes, well, I did observe you often and since Shrewsbury was keeping you company on the terrace and in your favorite reading place that last day, I did not feel the need to do so.” Hannah smiled as knowing lit in her green eyes.
Deborah’s face heated. Had Hannah witnessed the kiss? Had she seen Deborah on Percy’s lap? Goodness!
No! Impossible!
That was a secret her sister would not have kept.
Or, perhaps she would have, but why hadn’t she mentioned it to Deborah before now?
“It appeared as if the two of you had grown quite close that last day, but then he left.”
She had seen something! Why hadn’t Hannah ever said anything? Except, she hoped that she did not elaborate on what she witnessed now in a room full of women.
“What games are we playing tonight?” Wingate asked as he entered the parlor, the gentlemen following.
It was then that Hannah reached under the table, grinned and produced a large bowl and bottle of brandy. “Snapdragon.”
“Not I,” Miss Damaris quickly announced and moved away from the center table to stand far away and by a window.
Given the two accidents that Deborah was aware of, she certainly understood Damaris’ reluctance.
“We saved you a seat, Lord Shrewsbury,” Bernice smiled and indicated to the empty chair. “You should not be made to stand for too long.”
“Thank you,” he murmured and Deborah did her best not to glare even though jealousy pierced her heart.
Were all the misses going to flock around him in hopes of gaining his favor?
“I hope that you do not intend to use my brandy,” Wingate complained.
“Only the bottle that you were not fond of,” Hannah assured him as she started pouring it into the bowl before she retrieved the raisins to add to the brandy.
Deborah watched as they slowly sank to the bottom with dread. Hannah had always loved this game and usually won. Deborah did not.
“I believe that I will also only observe,” Percy said. “Given my lack of balance, I would likely fall into the bowl before I retrieved even one raisin.”
“Yes, well neither will Deborah.” Hannah rolled her eyes. “She fears being burned.”
“No. It is foolish to risk pain and discomfort on account of a game,” she retorted and settled back, glad that she was not required to participate either.
“They have all sunk.” Hannah clapped her hands. “Who would like to go first?”
Peter narrowed his eyes. “I will and this time you will not beat me.”
“A challenge has been issued,” Wingate announced as he put a candle flame to the brandy causing a whoosh of flames to fill the top of the bowl.
As the guests gathered around the low table to watch and take their turns, Percy anticipated being smothered, but it wasn’t until someone accidentally bumped his knee, then apologized that he removed himself from his seat and stepped away to make his way toward one of the klismos chairs.
Deborah was quick to join him while Miss Damaris did not leave the far side of the room.
“I believe Miss Damaris is ready to escape out a window or door if someone or anything goes up in flames,” he observed.
“Peter already burned a hole in his sleeve, even though he rolled them up,” Deborah commented. “I am not surprised. He has yet to best Hannah at this game.”
"You are being very friendly toward me when I thought your intention was to avoid me,” Percy said. “At least, that had been my perception yesterday after I had arrived.”
“Yes, well, we were once friends, were we not.”
Once as in they were no longer. His heart squeezed with pain at the realization that she was likely only sitting next to him because she did not like the game being played and because she remembered what it was like to not be able to move around very well.
It could also be that because they would be here for nearly a fortnight it would be best to get along.
Of course, much of that was assumption and as much as he would like to truly know what was going on in her mind and how she felt about him, Percy was afraid to ask.
“Shrewsbury, you never did answer my question,” Tilson called across to him.
“Which question was that?” Percy recalled only one question that had been asked of him and he still did not want to answer it.
“How did you break your nose?”
Everyone turned and looked at him as if waiting for an answer.
“Yes, how did you?” Deborah asked.
He searched her eyes but she was sincere. She had no idea.
“It was a misunderstanding.” That was all he would offer.
“Likely a brother found you kissing their sister,” Tilson laughed, having no idea how accurate his words were.
“Or a husband,” Talbot suggested.
“I have never kissed a married woman,” Percy defended.
“Then it was a miss,” Claxton announced.
“I did not claim that either. Just that I do not kiss married women.”
“I should have insisted you tell me how it happened right afterwards,” Tilson grumbled.
“You were there?” Peter asked as he stared at Percy, all the while knowing that Tilson had not been near them.
“No. But, Percy had just returned to London when I called on him. His eye was surrounded by a green and yellowish bruise, as was his jaw and nose and he refused to be seen in public until his handsome face returned to normal.”
“What did happen?” Hannah asked with concern. “It does not sound as if you simply had an accident but were accosted.”
Percy still did not look away from Peter and nearly blurted out the truth of the matter, but he might have damned Deborah’s reputation at the same time.
“As I said. It was a misunderstanding. The man preferred fists to listening to reason.”
“That is all?” Tilson asked.
“That is all I will say on the matter.”