9. Chapter 9
As much as Javenia had hoped to meet with Algenon before returning to town, the occasion never arose.
She’d gone out every morning during the time they usually walked the stream, but he’d not been there.
The last morning, however, Lord Roberts materialized out of the morning mist as she rose from sending a broken reed downstream.
A startled scream tore from her throat at his sudden appearance.
“Good heavens, Miss Harris. It is only I, Lord Roberts.”
She put a hand over her heart. It galloped along as if it was in a steeple race. “For-forgive me, Lord Roberts. I had thought myself all alone. I did not expect to see anyone this early in the morning.”
His steely grey eyebrows rose, a question in his green eyes. Did he know she usually met Algenon at this hour? Was that why he had come instead of his son?
“Why do you choose to walk here?” He glanced at the spot where the wall opened to admit the stream, his hands gripping the end of his expertly carved and well-used wooden cane.
She took a slow breath, willing her heart to calm. The question seemed innocent enough.
“I like how peaceful it is. The lilt of the water in the early morning soothes my soul before the noise of the day chases comfort away.” Today would be especially trying as they packed their carriages and traveled to the noise and chaos of London.
Lord Roberts lifted his chin to the sky and inhaled a deep breath of fresh, cold air. “A wise choice.”
Javenia pulled her pelisse tighter around herself, surprised that His Lordship had not met her pronouncement with derision or contempt. Instead, his shoulders relaxed, his head came level, and he actually smiled at her.
“I shall leave you to your peaceful morning, then.”
He slowly walked back into the morning mist, his steps slow and more labored than she remembered.
For the first time, it struck her how much he’d aged these last few years.
Not that he was terribly old. She knew many men lived well into their sixties and seventies.
But time had added a peppering of grey to his dark hair and a small hitch to his step.
Or was that the ache of movement in the early morning?
Her parents had often complained about how much harder it was to move after a night of sleep now that they were getting on in years.
When she arrived back at the house, the loading of the carriages was well underway.
The noise she dreaded filled Hazelwood. Nessa complained about being left behind by herself and their mother reminded her that great Aunt Marjorie would be coming to stay with her.
This caused Nessa to double her objections.
Cindy, on the other hand, went about proclaiming her joy at finally being able to have a season, no doubt adding to Nessa’s distress.
The housekeeper approached. “Miss Harris, you’ve a visitor in the east sitting room.”
Excitement filled her limbs before the housekeeper even finished her sentence. Perhaps Algenon had come to the house knowing his father would disrupt their morning meeting. When she entered the small room, however, it was not Algenon.
Livy rose from the well-loved pink sofa, her ever present cane in her left hand.
Her porcelain complexion was paler than normal, but her emerald eyes still sparkled with the fierceness Javenia had come to expect from her friend.
If it had been Melior, Javenia would have greeted her with a hug, but Livy was not one for public displays of affection, so she only took Livy’s free hand.
“Thank you for coming.” Javenia squeezed Livy’s fingers. “I wish you were coming to Town as well.”
“I am grateful I am not.” Livy smirked. “I have had quite enough of all the meddling matrons and their devious daughters.”
“Devious daughters like me?” Javenia placed her hands under her chin, framing her face.
Livy’s tinkling laugh filled the room. “You are the only one I like. Besides, you are not scheming like the rest.”
A lump formed in Javenia’s throat, and her smile fell. If Livy knew of her list she might retract her statement.
Javenia stepped back and gestured for Livy to sit, taking up the place across from her on the Queen Anne chair.
“Javenia.” Livy drew out her name as she carefully laid her cane across her lap. “You look as though you stole the last biscuit from the kitchens.”
Smoothing her lavender walking dress over her knees, Javenia tried to gather her thoughts.
Guilt wormed its way through her. Her scheming wasn’t exactly the same as other women.
At least she had some signs that Algenon returned her feelings.
Besides, how would the fool man gather the courage to stand up to his father without her giving him a helping hand?
All right, it was more like a hefty push, but she could not sit back and do nothing.
“What have you done?”
Livy’s scrutinizing gaze made Javenia shift in her seat. “Nothing really. I am only trying to be more forthcoming about my”—she cleared her throat— “um …intentions toward a certain gentleman.”
A lopsided smile lifted Livy’s lips. “If it is the gentleman we have spoken of before, that is well within your rights. Showing your hand of cards more openly isn’t scheming if that is what you are afraid of.”
Yes, but her list of ways to disable Algenon’s careful defenses was calculated. Especially since she’d recently added getting him alone to the list. How would she explain that one if anyone got their hands on the blue paper she had folded in her pocket?
“As long as you remember he has a choice in all of this, and you are not forcing a proposal out of him, I think it is a grand thing. A little urging could be just what Al needs.”
Javenia wrinkled her nose. She’d never liked Algenon’s nickname. Maybe because Eddie had given it to him. She chewed on the corner of her lip, staring absently at the yellow wallpaper with cream roses just past Livy’s head.
“Did you come by yourself?”
Livy narrowed her gaze in confusion. “Not exactly. Eddie continued on to Blackthorn to see Al before he left.”
So he’d be back soon to collect Livy. What would he say to Algenon?
Would he encourage him in her direction or, like years ago, use her as fodder for his jokes?
She clenched her teeth. They were not the same people they were at fifteen, she reminded herself.
She knew she needed to let what had happened go, but it still poked at the sore parts of her heart.
“Javenia, are you well? You are not usually so disjointed.”
She shook her head. “Forgive me, Livy. I’d not meant to be so insipid in my conversation.
I fear the knowledge that I’m to spend months without you or Melior’s levelheaded company is wearing on me.
Susannah is all fine and good, but she’s not as experienced with Society’s taciturn and vindictive nature.
I’ll be lost without Melior’s intelligence and your wisdom. ”
“Nonsense. You will do just fine. You managed multiple seasons before either Melior or I entered Society.”
Except she hadn’t. Her disastrous first and second seasons were proof of that. How much did Livy know? She knew a lot about everyone, but unless Algenon had broken his promise, not another soul knew how awful it had been… unless of course, Duncan had opened his lying mouth.
No, he wouldn’t have. Algenon had made certain of that.
A mischievous smile lit Livy’s face, pulling Javenia from her dark thoughts. “Besides, without Nate and Eddie in the way, you will only have John to compete with for Al’s attention.”
Javenia smirked. “Limiting my competition. I like how you think. But might I remind you they are all married and do not look good in a skirt?”
Livy’s laughter again filled the room.
Javenia smiled, then sobered. “I will still have to compete with all the pretty fresh faces. They are bound to distract him with all their lovely gowns and fancy hair.”
“I have watched Al for three seasons. He might pay attention to fashion, but there is only one woman that truly catches his fancy.”
The directness of both Livy’s gaze and words burrowed deep in Javenia’s soul. Livy was the most observant person she’d ever met. If she said Algenon only had eyes for her, then it had to be true.
“Thank you, Livy.”
Livy reached out a hand to her and Javenia took it. “But it would not hurt to have dresses made by the best designers. You know how much Al loves a fine gown.”
Javenia laughed. It was already on her list.
Algenon let out a sigh of relief when he stepped out of the carriage in London. The four-story townhouse rose above him—his prison for the next nine months, with only a small reprieve at Christmastide. How he hated Town.
No one would know it, but only two things gave him reprieve from the monotonous rounds of balls and parties: Observing Parliament, and the opportunity to study the new materials and fashions of London.
What had started as a way to defy his father had become a puzzle to solve.
Each season he tried to predict the next year’s trends, but every year Society surprised him with its ridiculousness.
This year, towering cravats and scandalously thin dresses seemed to be à la mode, if the couples walking down the street were any sign. He tore his gaze away from a frightfully see-through white dress and directed his attention back to the steps, holding his arm out to Phillipa.
She leaned in and lowered her voice. “I can see right through to her petticoats. And why a spencer in this cold?”
His thoughts exactly. The wind caught hold of the young woman’s gown and pulled it flush against her body. Algenon averted his gaze, pulling Phillipa up the steps and out of the frigid air. The lengths women would go to catch a man’s attention still astounded him.