Chapter 17 #2
She nibbled at her toast, trying to pretend she had never thought of him. “Lord Burke? Well, he’s tall, I’ll grant him that.”
“And very handsome,” added her aunt. “He moves like a pugilist; so light on his feet. I daresay he’s an accomplished dancer. And a man who boxes is often quite strong.”
Joan threw down her toast. “He’s not considerate, and he’s been downright rude to me. He told me I looked like a half-opened umbrella.”
Evangeline’s eyebrows went up. “Indeed! When he was here for tea?”
“No,” she said, aware that her face was flushing. “At a ball a fortnight ago. He asked if I had something against flattering fashion.”
“I expect his opinion changed,” murmured her aunt. “He seemed very struck by your appearance in that lovely green frock, my dear.”
Yes, he had. The memory brought a small smile to Joan’s face in spite of herself. “Perhaps a little,” she allowed. “But I heard something of him the other day . . . Were you ever acquainted with his aunt, Lady Burke?”
“Oh, Lord. Her.” Evangeline took a deep breath. “Very slightly. What did she tell you about him?”
“I’ve never met her,” Joan hastened to say. “But I heard he’s been rather callous to her, and I wondered if it could be true. A man who is cruel to his aunt and cousins cannot be considered kind, can he?”
“Callous!” Evangeline gave a cynical snort.
“Mary Burke is a prickly woman, and always has been. She was a beauty in her day, but her manner turned off the most eligible men. She married Edward Burke, who was a handsome fellow even if the dullest man in Christendom, which was a step up for her family. You may recall what I said about the current Lord Burke’s father?
” Joan nodded. “He was as charming and gregarious as his older brother was reserved and staid, and Mary disapproved mightily of him. She made no secret of the fact that she thought he would come to no very good end . . .” Evangeline’s eyes grew shadowed.
“And I suppose she was right. But the worst thing Colin Burke did, in Mary’s eyes, was wed an heiress.
Most of young Burke’s fortune comes from his maternal grandfather, not from his father. ”
“Which means he was wealthier than his uncle even when he was a small boy,” said Joan slowly. “And his aunt . . .”
“Lord Burke is very like his father, so she was bound to dislike him anyway. But yes, I’m sure the money stung her pride as well.”
“So you would discount her words about him?”
Evangeline made a face. “If anything, I’d credit the exact opposite of her words about him, or anyone else.”
That cast a completely different light on things.
Not only had Lord Burke lost his parents when he was practically an infant, it appeared he’d been right when he said his aunt and cousins hated him.
Joan fiddled with her spoon. Surely if they had treated him so coldly, a little callousness on his part could be forgiven.
If Miss Burke’s manner in the millinery shop was any indicator of the way they treated him, he was probably justified in hating them. Still—to turn them out of their house?
“Is Lady Burke in dire straits?” Miss Burke’s costume had been exquisite, but it could have been bought on credit. If they had been left without a place to live, that would seem very hard.
“I doubt it,” said Evangeline in surprise. “The Burkes have always had money, and I never saw a less likely spendthrift than the late Lord Burke.”
Joan nodded. That didn’t eliminate the sentimental attachment Miss Burke had claimed, but it hardly stooped to cruelty.
There was a tap on the door, and Smythe entered with two florist’s boxes. He placed one box before each of them.
“My,” said Evangeline in surprise as she untied the string. “I wonder who would have sent these?”
Joan ignored her aunt’s rhetorical question and busied herself with opening her own box.
She had received bouquets before, but none since her second Season, years ago.
And these flowers were unlike those long-ago daisies in every way.
Inside the box lay a sheaf of long-stemmed lilies, of such stark simplicity she could only stare.
“Arum lilies,” said Evangeline. “How exotic!”
“They’re beautiful.” Joan lifted one out to see it better.
“Lord Burke knows his flowers, I see.” Evangeline fished the card out of her box, which held a bouquet of brilliant tulips.
She dropped the lily back into the box and ripped open her own card.
I hope you will grant me the pleasure of your company on a drive two mornings hence, it read. Be ready early. It will be worth the wait.
—Burke
For a moment she had to fight back a pleased smile.
He might be an enigma, but sending flowers meant something, didn’t it?
He certainly hadn’t needed to; it wasn’t as though he was courting her .
. . was he? From anyone else, flowers and invitations to drive might be construed as such, but from him, it was impossible to tell.
“He asks permission to take you driving the day after next.” Evangeline held her card out. “I will grant it, if you want to go. But if I’ve misread you, dear, and you don’t want to go with him, I am perfectly willing to take the blame and refuse him.”
She bit her lip. His note to Evangeline was only a little longer, but far more polite.
He thanked her for tea the other day and asked very properly for permission to take Joan driving.
It seemed he could be a gentleman when he wished to be one.
And what did he mean, the wait would be worth it?
What did he plan to do? She handed the note back.
“He did mention something about driving, but I expected him to forget all about it.”
Her aunt just gave her a wry look.
She pressed her lips together. “Even now he hasn’t fixed a time—early! What does that mean? Is he going to turn up before dawn with some mad plan to drive to Greenwich?”
“Absolutely not,” said Evangeline. “Your father would murder me.”
“Well, it would be very like one of Douglas’s friends to ask and then not arrive. Two days is a long time to delay.”
“I expect he’ll come. No one made him ask to take you driving. Don’t say Douglas did,” her aunt added as Joan opened her mouth. “Douglas is hundreds of miles away. Besides, Lord Burke doesn’t look the type to take orders well.”
That was true. “That doesn’t mean he won’t regret asking.”
Evangeline just smiled. “Perhaps you should trim that new bonnet, just in case.”
For some reason this made her shoulders tense.
Two days might be enough time for Mr. Salvatore to deliver another new dress, but she didn’t have a decent bonnet.
And for some reason Joan was loath to wear her old, unflattering bonnet on the drive.
“I don’t know how to do it without it making me look tall. ”
“But you are tall,” her aunt pointed out. “How do you plan to hide it?”
“Obviously I cannot hide it,” said Joan wistfully. “But I don’t have to wear a bonnet that makes me look even more enormous.”
Evangeline laughed. “Enormous! Oh, really. You’ve been standing next to the wrong people. You are not too tall.”
“Not next to you, but next to everyone else I am.”
“Nor next to Lord Burke.” Joan glared at her. Evangeline tried to look innocent. “It’s true! He must be at least five or six inches taller. You could wear my beaded silk shoes with the lovely heel and still be shorter than he.”
“Everything need not involve Lord Burke!” she growled. Although she wouldn’t mind wearing shoes like those ivory silk ones, and if the only person she could conceivably dance with while wearing them was Lord Burke . . . perhaps it would be worth the sacrifice.
She got to her feet and picked up her bouquet. “I’ll just go have Polly put these in some water before I consider the bonnet.”
“Make sure she fetches the proper vase,” said her aunt as she headed for the door. “Arum lilies are very tall.” Joan glanced over her shoulder suspiciously to see Evangeline hold a pink tulip to her nose. “Lord Burke seems fond of tall things,” she added almost idly.
“You’re incorrigible,” she declared.
Her aunt grinned. “I know. Don’t tell your mother.”
Joan shook her head and turned to go, but the butler came into the room again with the post. She lingered as Evangeline sorted through it.
“Several invitations,” she remarked. “And—oh my—“ She dropped the stack of letters and tore one open.
Joan tried not to spy, but abandoned all pretense when she recognized the writing on the front. “It’s from Papa!”
“Yes, it is. Here is one for you.” Her aunt handed over a smaller letter, which had been sealed inside the other. Joan seized it and unfolded it, and the room was quiet as they both read.
Papa wrote that they had remained in Bath.
Mother had been very tired from the journey that far, and once she recovered enough to go on, she had asked him to reconsider going all the way to Cornwall.
The weather in Bath was very fine, enabling them to venture out almost every day, and Mother’s lungs seemed to be improving in the country air.
They had taken a house in the Crescent and were spending the days very quietly, although Mother hoped to have some society as her health returned.
Papa was insisting that she visit the hot baths every day, and the waters had done her a world of good.
The tone of his letter was wry and amused, and Joan unconsciously relaxed as she read.
It had been a fortnight since her parents had left, and she could tell Papa was far less worried about Mother now than he had been.
Mother must be improving if she had the strength to argue with Papa over going to the baths.
“Mother is doing much better,” she said, folding her letter. “I’m so relieved!”
“Yes, it is very good news!” Evangeline beamed at her. “Your father says they might return within the month.”
“So soon?” Joan tried not to think what that would mean for drives in the park with Lord Burke. “The doctors must be very confident. I thought Papa would insist she remain in the country for the rest of this year.”
Evangeline ducked her head and began folding her own letter. “Yes, he’s always been very protective of her. And wisely so, in this case.”
And when Mother and Papa returned, Evangeline would leave.
Joan gazed at her aunt, whom she had barely known a fortnight ago and now felt a deep kinship with.
She would miss her aunt, with her unconventional demeanor and agreeable nature.
She got up again to leave, then hesitated at the door.
“I do hope Louis comes again. And Sir Richard, if you would like to see him. I’m sure my mother wouldn’t object.
” After all, Mother had allowed Evangeline to come in the first place.
Joan told herself a short visit from a small dog surely wouldn’t count for much, and Sir Richard had behaved as properly as anyone might wish.
Evangeline’s face softened. “Thank you, dear. Thank you so much.”