Chapter 5
“Are you sure you wouldn't like pillows to rest your leg on?” Marigold asked as she entered the sitting room at Edgerton House.
“Yes, I'm fine. Everyone needs to stop fussing over me.” Never mind that there was one person whose fussing she would welcome again quite readily.
“Your foot was swollen and bruised, and the doctor did say you should rest it. I don't think we're overreacting.” Mari sat on the settee opposite the one Hyacinth was arranged on and rang a bell for tea.
“I do appreciate all the doting. Lily’s poultices have done wonders.” What Hyacinth didn't tell her twin was that bit of pain remaining was nothing compared to the pleasure of those moments of talking to Tristan in the Beckfords’ moonlit garden.
It had been even more intoxicating to dance in her arms. Without a doubt, it had been the highlight of her entire Season. Sitting with him, talking with him, had felt so right.
He had been so kind. Gentle. Protective. Helpful. She could still remember his easy smile, the warm fabric of his tailcoat wrapped around her shoulders.
“Goodness, you are smitten, aren’t you?” Mari asked with a bit of mischief in her tone. “Did you two agree to meet out in the garden? You can tell me.”
“Shh.” Tristan had informed Lily and Griffin, her sister and brother-in-law, that he stepped on her toes while dancing, wishing to spare her from any talk of her having assignations with a gentleman in the garden.
Marigold seamed her lips together as if to indicate she’d say no more on the subject, but Hyacinth knew her twin too well. Her eyes were dancing, her cheeks full of color.
She leaned forward and whispered, “Did he kiss you?”
“No!” Hyacinth whisper-shouted back. “He was kind and behaved exactly as a gentleman should.”
Marigold watched her, as if expecting her to confess something more.
“Anything else?” she prompted finally.
Hyacinth had been trying not to be downtrodden about the circumstances that had drawn him to the garden in the first place, the lady he intended to pursue.
“No,” Hyacinth admitted. “If you’re asking if he made any overtures to me, the answer is no. I believe he may have his eye on someone else.”
That admission made her throat tighten and something in her chest throb.
“Lady Felicia Fairfax.”
Hyacinth snapped her gaze to her sister’s. “Who?”
Marigold swept a hand against the peacock-blue skirt of her gown. “He danced with her after you left the ball.”
Lily and Griffin had returned with Hyacinth early, and Marigold was left with Lady Pomeroy, a family friend, who stepped into Lily’s role as chaperone and delivered Marigold home in her carriage hours later.
“And you’re only tell me now?” Hyacinth couldn’t keep the anger from her tone. She felt unreasonably betrayed.
“I wanted to know first whether anything had happened between the two of you. Dancing with a lady at a ball doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”
Indeed, Hyacinth thought, it seemed her dance with Tristan hadn’t meant anything at all, except that he was an excellent brother who would do his sister’s bidding and aid a friend.
“How many times did he dance with her?”
“Only the once,” Marigold said softly.
There was more. Hyacinth could read her twin as well as her twin could read her.
“What part are you leaving out?”
At that moment, one of the maids entered the room with a tea tray, and Marigold busied herself preparing a cup for each of them, adding sugar and cream to Hyacinth’s, as she preferred.
“I did a little bit of inquiring after I saw them dancing together,” Marigold finally admitted after taking a sip from her teacup. “Lady Felicia is pretty and polite but has very little in the way of a dowry to speak of, apparently.”
Hyacinth didn’t bother mentioning that she and all of her sisters were in much the same straights before their eldest sister married a duke.
“She’s also the cousin of Lord Collier, who is apparently a longtime friend of Sir Tristan’s. They went to university together.”
Tristan had mentioned that about the lady he’d followed into the garden—her cousin had asked him to dance with her.
“Goodness, you gathered quite a bit of information in one evening.”
Marigold shot her a cat-in-the-cream smile. “People are more than willing to gossip.” She shrugged. “And everyone accepts that debutantes will be curious about the Season’s bachelors.”
“So he’ll pursue and probably marry her.” A hollowness seemed to settle into Hyacinth’s chest at the pronouncement.
Marigold scoffed. “Who are you and where is my sister? Hyacinth Bridewell would never give up so easily.”
“If I care about him, I should want him to be happy.”
Marigold stood from the opposite settee and moved to a chair near where Hyacinth sat.
“He danced one dance with her, Cinth, and one with you. Then you spent time to talking to him in the garden, which she didn’t do.”
Something must have flickered in Hyacinth’s eyes because Marigold’s brows arched.
“What is it?”
“I followed into the garden.”
Marigold’s eyes danced with merriment. “Did you indeed? That’s the Hyacinth I know.”
Hyacinth resisted rolling her eyes, but the teasing was lifting her spirits more than she was willing to admit.
“He was following someone else. Now I suspect it was Lady Felicia.”
“But he found you instead.” Marigold smiled brightly. “That sounds a bit like fate to me.”
Hyacinth tried to smile too, but she didn’t feel it.
Was Tristan set on pursuing Lady Felicia?
Marigold took up her teacup again and sipped thoughtfully before giving Hyacinth an odd look.
“What are you thinking?”
Marigold lifted a shoulder. “Only that it was the last ball of the Season and neither of received a proposal of marriage. By Society’s standards, we’re failed debutantes.”
Hyacinth chuckled and Marigold followed suit.
“Well, unlike me, you put off half a dozen potential suitors.” Hyacinth studied her twin’s profile. “Why did you?”
“There were gentlemen who showed an interest. That is true.” She placed a palm against her chest. “But no one touched my heart. None of them made me feel as if I couldn’t do without them. That’s what I’m looking for.”
Marigold reached for Hyacinth’s hand and squeezed her fingers. “That’s what we both deserve.”
Hyacinth squeezed back, but she couldn’t help but wonder what happened when she felt precisely that way about someone, but her feelings were not reciprocated. What then?
A housemaid entered the sitting room. “Pardon, misses, there are visitors to see Miss Hyacinth.”
Marigold got to her feet, brows furrowed. “Are you prepared to see visitors?”
“Yes, of course.”
Hyacinth knew. Somehow she knew before the maid retreated to fetch the visitors who would walk across the threshold.
And then he was there, as if she'd summoned him with her thoughts. With her yearning.
Emma followed in his wake with one of her usual sunny smiles on her face.
“We've come to see how you're recovering,” Emma announced. She gestured to her brother. “He’s feeling dreadfully guilty, and I’ve been haranguing him nonstop for not telling me what happened until you’d already left the ball.”
Sir Tristan stepped forward, eyes fixed on her foot before looking into her eyes. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m well. I promise.” Hyacinth planted her feet on the carpet and stood. “As you see. All recovered.”
It twinged, but the swelling was gone and she could move about easily enough.
Emma moved to stand closer to Hyacinth, taking her hands. “Then you’ll be well enough to come to Kent for the house party? It won’t be the same without you there.”
“We all plan to come,” Hyacinth assured.
“And we’re all looking forward to it,” Marigold added, then shifted her gaze to Sir Tristan. “And how do you propose to make it up to my sister, Sir Tristan, for stepping on her toes?”
“Mari.” Hyacinth’s cheeks began to warm immediately.
Sir Tristan smiled, seemingly abashed. “I thought Miss Bridewell”—he directed his gaze toward Hyacinth—“might wish to see my laboratory, since she’s interested in paleontology too.”
“I would love to.” The prospect made her breathless.
“I hope you know how dreadful I feel about last evening.”
Hyacinth tried to wave him off, but he wouldn’t have it.
“I know you said you've forgiven me, but I feel bad all the same. I’m glad you’ll let us host you all at Oakhill for a fortnight.”
“Perhaps you’ll even be up for dancing,” Emma put in.
Hyacinth drew her over to the tea tray, ostensibly to offer her a cup of tea, but she leaned in and whispered, “Were you able to convince him about Lord Cartwright?”
Emma beamed. “I was because Alexander’s aunt is coming too. She’s a friend of my aunt’s and has agreed to help host and serve as chaperone as needed.”
“Wonderful.” Hyacinth had to force herself not to continually flick her gaze in Tristan’s direction as he spoke to Marigold.
“Who else is coming?” She couldn’t help but wonder if Tristan’s friend and his cousin would be in attendance.
“The Naughtons, or rather Lord Selwick and his sister, Sybil Naughton, who we’ve been friends with our family for years. The Colliers, which includes Tristan’s friend, Lord Collier, and his mother and cousin, and Lady Hemphill and Alexander, of course.”
Hyacinth’s jaw felt tight and she’d curled her hands into the fabric of her skirt. “Lord Collier’s cousin—”
“Lady Felicia.” Emma gave Hyacinth a tight smile and leaned a bit closer. “I can’t say much, but I do have my worries.” She glanced back at her brother. “I fear Tristan may simply marry to please our father.”
Tristan strolled over, seeming to recognize that he was the topic of their conversation.
“I know you won’t tell me what you two were whispering about, but I hope it wasn’t about what a terrible dancer I am.” He glanced at Hyacinth.
“You were excellent,” she told him.
What she wanted to say is that she’d remember that dance for the rest of her days.
“There you go being kind again.”
Emma’s brows quirked up. “What’s this? Hyacinth is always kind.”
Tristan hummed, then smiled. The warmth in it made Hyacinth a little breathless.
“We’re so looking forward to your visit,” Emma repeated.
“Me too.” Hyacinth spoke the words to Emma, but Tristan’s eyes were on her, and she got lost in his sea-green gaze. Captured. Entranced.
Had he thought of their dance at all? Of of the easy way they’d spoken to each other in the garden?
Even knowing the other young lady he’d danced with would be going to Kent couldn’t diminish the excitement she felt at the chance to know him better.
He’d promised to show her his laboratory. If nothing else, they could talk about paleontology.
But would she have to watch him courting Lady Felicia Fairfax for a fortnight?