Chapter Sixteen #2
“Astonishing!” Eliza exclaimed in a whisper. “Do you mean to tell me the duke had a thought for someone else besides himself?”
“What else?” Millie asked.
Cassie scowled. “He complimented the soprano’s voice.”
Millie pulled a face. “Ohhh! He’s musical, too?”
“Stop it, Millie. H-he was…nice. He fetched me a drink.”
“Redver did as much for me, not to mention Godmama.”
“Speaking of Redver…” Cassie shifted positions. “I noticed the two of you getting quite cozily while Godmama was sleeping.”
Cozy—as in comfortable and warm. Yes. In the end, they had been quite cozy. Eliza looked toward the water. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Eliza, you shook hands with him!”
Eliza suppressed a shiver, remembering the hot, strong feel of his gloved fingers. The same fingers that had worked her into a frenzy as the Blackbird.
“Eliza!” Millie gasped in mock shock. “You shook hands with the same Lord Redver you criticized as aloof and arrogant?”
Of course, Millie would remember such a detail. “We shook hands only because we agreed to be friends.”
“You liked him?” Millie asked.
“I didn’t say I liked him,” Eliza calmly replied. “I said we’d agreed to be friends.”
But she had liked him. Too much. He already haunted her dreams. How much proximity could she take before she started to develop an inconvenient attachment?
Or worse—accidentally revealed herself?
“Friendship”—Cassie leaned forward—“implies liking.”
“And who ever heard of being friends with a man?” Millie asked.
“We’re friends with Asquith,” Eliza reasoned.
“He’s a not a man, he’s a relation, though a distant one,” Millie answered.
“Besides, he’s responsible for our well-being,” Cassie added.
“Tut!” Lady Asquith scolded. “What have I told you girls about whispering?”
“We’re sorry,” Cassie answered for them all.
A mischievous twinkle sparkled in Millicent’s eyes. “We’re naught but a trial to you, are we? The Scandalous Wainwrights.”
“Psh,” quipped Lady Asquith. “You’re no trial at all. You’ve brought a good deal of laughter into my home—something I missed dreadfully. As for scandal… Well, I’ve seen several scandals in my day, all far more sordid than dancing an unapproved waltz.”
“Did Harbury, at least, dance well?” Millie asked Cassandra.
“Hardly had the chance to discover,” Cassandra replied. “No sooner had we taken to the floor than—” Her eyes sparked with sudden and clearly unexpected tears. She covered her mouth with her hand.
Eliza rubbed the small of her back. “Forget it, Cassie.”
“If one is going to transgress,” Millie grumbled, “one should at least have had the chance enjoy the benefits.”
As Lady Asquith tsked disapproval, Eliza sucked in and bit her lip. She had not only enjoyed the benefits of her transgression, she’d also reveled in them!
Having heated at the briefest recollections, she removed her cloak and laid it carefully by her side.
She closed her eyes, turned her face to the sun, and forced herself to be entirely consumed by current sensations. She became present only to the moment—the sun, the solid ground beneath her legs, and sweet smell of damp earth.
“Well, Miss Cassandra,” Lady Asquith intoned, “you might as well tell your sister the truth—this time loud enough for me to hear the whole. Are you well-pleased with the duke?”
Eliza’s eyes flew open, and she turned to look at her twin, who glanced back accusingly—you started this.
“I…” Cassie hesitated. “I’m not sure I have known him long enough to take his measure.”
Lady Asquith harrumphed. “There is nothing wrong with the Duke of Harbury that could not be solved by a decent marriage.”
“Why is marriage seen as a solution to a defective character?” asked Millie.
“Marriage did not improve Father,” Eliza agreed.
Lady Asquith broke into a series of clucks before sputtering, “Do not speak ill of the dead.”
Lady Asquith’s gaze met Eliza’s and held. Though chastised for her comment, Eliza read understanding in the older woman’s eyes.
“And don’t,” Lady Asquith continued, “confuse marriage the institution with a marriage of minds—a mutual commitment predicated on a willingness to hear and be heard, to bear witness to one another’s struggles, to support one another’s strengths.
Such a union takes both humility and mutual goodwill. ”
“Too bad,” Millie reflected, “there are so few humble young men.”
“Tut,” Lady Asquith scolded again. Then, she snorted. “The Willful Wainwrights, more like.”
Millie turned to Eliza, mouthing Willful Wainwrights with raised brows and a delighted little bounce.
“Despite what most people believe,” Lady Asquith continued. “I’ve always felt that character develops over decades. One must allow for time for growth and maturity, especially where young men are concerned.”
“Would you marry again?” Cassie asked.
A wealth of unspoken memories played across the older woman’s features.
“Doubtful. You see, I was blessed a marriage that embodied the ideal of which I speak. Why roll the dice again?” Her eyes softened.
“My husband was, of course, heir presumptive to your grandfather when we married, but, as you know, he could have been displaced should your grandfather have chosen to marry again. In other words, I didn’t marry for ambition. ”
“Did you marry for love?” Cassie asked.
“Oh, what did I know of love then?” Lady Asquith replied. “But, yes, I believed I was marrying for love.”
“Why did you think you were?” Eliza asked.
“Because he was good to his mama. And I found him interesting. Once, we took shelter from a rainstorm in a folly on my parents’ estate and talked for hours.” Lady Asquith smiled a secret smile. “That was the day I knew we would wed.”
Eliza exchanged a glance with Millie. Clearly, both were wondering whether more than just talk had been involved.
“Was Harbury good to his mama?” Cassie asked.
Lady Asquith smiled approvingly at Cassie. “Yes. And very respectful of his father, too. Still, Harbury has come into his responsibilities far too young.”
Finally, a sentiment with which Eliza could heartily agree.
“He is also, however, remarkably attentive to his older sister, Lady Sarah.”
“I’d noticed.” Cassie’s brow troubled.
Eliza frowned.
First, Cassie had welcomed Harbury with far more enthusiasm than Eliza expected. Now she had admitted to thinking deeply about the cad? To observing his relationship with his sister?
She couldn’t be seriously considering Harbury, could she?
Cassie shifted positions, shading her eyes with her hand to better see. “Who is that, over there?”
Eliza followed Cassie’s gaze to the far bank of the artificial lake.
Her heart spasmed. She felt the blood drain from her face.
Miss D’Acre and Lady Redver, were walking arm and arm just in front of Redver.
When Eliza glanced back, she found Cassie and Millie studying her with interest. She squinted, though her scowl could hardly conceal her reaction.
Her sisters exchanged a significant glance.
“Why, look,” Cassie said loud enough to alert their Godmama. “Isn’t that Harbury’s friend, Lord Redver?”
“So it is,” Lady Asquith replied.
“That’s Lord Redver?” Millie asked. “The one who’s hand—”
“Ssst!” Eliza silenced her sister.
“Lord Redver…” Lady Asquith considered him. “He has been remarkably solicitous of you, Eliza. And, despite unfortunate family scandal, one must admit he shows a touching devotion to Miss D’Acre, too.”
“Why then,” Eliza asked, “did you referred to him as ‘that Redver’?”
“Willful, indeed,” Lady Asquith quipped. “I was tightly wound up that day. I should not have indulged in unkind gossip about an ancient scandal.”
“What scandal?” Millie asked with interest.
“Nothing worth mentioning now. Besides, Redver was merely a boy and Miss D’Acre no more than a babe in arms.”
After they’d returned from the opera, Eliza had, in fact, taken Redver’s suggestion and searched through her godmother’s old papers and journals. She’d found several references to the D’Acre trial and divorce. After the trial, his mother had fled to the continent, never to be heard from again.
Her heart had ached for him. And for Miss D’Acre.
“I do not believe children should be punished for the sins of their parents,” Eliza said.
“Although,” Lady Asquith added, “one does wish he’d do the pretty more often. He’s accepted so few invitations since he sold his commission.”
“Perhaps we should invite them over?” Cassie blinked innocently back at Eliza’s warning scowl. “Miss D’Acre got on so well with Millie, Lenora, and Nettie.”
“An excellent notion!” the countess agreed.
Immediately, she called for the coachman and sent him over to Redver’s party with an invitation to join them. Eliza sent up a quick, desperate prayer Redver would decline. But it was too late. The party had already turned and started in their direction.
“He may have a scandalous past”—Millie glanced askance and raised her brows—“but I think he’s handsome.”
“Eliza thinks so, too,” Cassandra whispered.
She ignored them both. Mostly because what they’d said was true. Even when she’d thought him arrogant and evil, she’d found him hard to resist.
Wait. Thought? Past tense?
She sat up a little straighter.
Yes, thought. Past tense.
Her sentiments had undergone a shocking and thorough change.
Occasionally, he’d a gruff manner about him. And that way, distinctive to most aristocrats, of assuming his needs were of particular importance. But he’d served his country. He loved his sister. And he was on a mission to amend his reputation.
He smiled at her across the field.
She swallowed, forcing her heart back into her throat.
She feared what the next escalation in her sentiments would bring.