Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
R oderick strode down the hallway from the fine chamber where he had been placed and rapped on Lockhart’s door, just one down from his own.
His heard his friend’s voice from within. “Enter.”
He did so and found Lockhart standing in the chamber, looking at the waistcoats he had brought with him. His valet held up one after another for George to examine.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Lockhart said with a brief glance at Roderick. “What do you think? The green or the blue?”
“The blue,” Roderick said absently. “Did you not ask your aunt and uncle’s leave in inviting me to join the party as we discussed?”
Lockhart pointed at the blue. “As the earl says, Jenkins. Have the rest pressed for supper tonight. You may go.”
Jenkins swept up the items for his master’s evening toilette and then bowed to Roderick before he left the room.
“Are you going to answer me?” Roderick pressed.
Lockhart wrinkled his brow. “You sound cross as the devil. What’s got you in a twist?”
“My question,” Roderick said and threw up his hands. “You invited me to join you and promised you would speak to your family about it. But your aunt and uncle seemed surprised to see me and your cousin was obviously irritated.”
He couldn’t help but briefly think of the lady with her fine features set just so on a slender face that matched her small frame perfectly. She had a simplicity to her appearance, but that only made her prettier. Except she had glared at him ever-so-slightly. She had spoken to him with an unmistakable chilliness to her tone.
“I told you that Clarissa was obsessed with propriety. And yes, it might have slipped my mind to request you join us.”
Roderick thew up his hands. “Damn it, Lockhart.”
“ But ,” Lockhart continued, “my aunt and uncle were clearly over the moon to have so important a gentleman join the party. You saw them drooling all over you, I think my aunt nearly my lorded herself into an apoplexy. Although the Marquess of Mickenshire technically outranks you, he also has half your worth financially and when it comes to his connections. So you are, for all intents and purposes, the man of the highest importance to grace their halls.”
Roderick stared. “That may be true, but it’s meaningless. They’ve invited the others as potential suitors for your cousin, you said, but I’m certainly not that.”
And that was true. Although he had noticed Miss Lockhart’s finer qualities when it came to her beauty, he hadn’t been struck by her in any other immediate way. There hadn’t been any specific sparks when he took her hand. And she despised him, which wasn’t what he anticipated when he met the one . So she couldn’t be that, nor was she likely to be a lover to him, considering her virtue, her goals to marry well and her apparent dedication to all things proper.
All of which meant she was not of interest beyond polite conversation. That was the end of that.
“No. Poor girl.” George shook his head. “Though some stuffy man with an acceptable rank will likely take her on, I fear she’ll be miserable in the end. ”
“Yes, you’ve mentioned her obsession with proper manners several times. Out of curiosity, what brought that on?” Roderick asked.
George shrugged. “Likely the never-ending criticism of my aunt and uncle. The poor girl can never set a foot right, it seems, no matter what she does. And if anything doesn’t go exactly as hoped, they all begin analyzing what she did to cause the problem.” Now his friend looked truly troubled. “For her birthday just before the Season, my aunt gifted her a copy of The Mirror of the Graces .”
Roderick shook his head. “I’m not familiar.”
“Of course you aren’t.” George chuckled. “It’s this ghastly etiquette manual designed to grind all the way into the ground every woman who buys in to its advice. I had a look at it during the fete we threw for Clarissa and couldn’t get past the first bit when the author demanded the neckline be always covered or else a lady risked being seen as far too sensuous.”
Roderick wrinkled his nose. “God help the entirety of Society, then, for current fashion dictates a lower neckline.”
George shrugged. “And yet my cousin seems to have bought in to the entire scheme that if she only behaves with exact correctness she might solve all the problems for herself, her family and perhaps even the world.”
Roderick frowned. He did not have any connection to the lady, but he did feel for her. “That’s too bad, but I suppose there is nothing to be done about it. As you said, she’ll likely match with some gentleman equally driven by such concerns and live her life very happily watching for every wrong turn of ankle or phrase.”
“Indeed.” George sighed. “At any rate, it seems you have forgiven me for failing to alert my aunt and uncle to your joining us.”
“I suppose,” Roderick said with a playful glare. “ If you’ll come with me for a walk around the garden. My legs are still stiff from the ride.”
“I swear, you are like an old man,” George said with a laugh. “Twenty-eight and already complaining of aches and pains. No, I won’t today. I drank too much at the inn last night and I need to sleep so that I might be exceedingly dashing for the first supper of the party tonight.”
Roderick shrugged. “Very well. Then I withhold my forgiveness. You’ll have to make it up to me later. Rest well.”
George’s laughter followed him into the hall and Roderick was grinning as he made his way through the house, down the stairs and slowly through the winding passageways toward what he hoped would be an exit to the garden.
Most of the doors to the chambers were closed, but he peeked in at a few that were open. There was nothing particularly interesting in any of them, the usual small parlors and a music room. When he reached the end of the hall, however, he found a chamber that was almost entirely empty save for a worn-out chaise with a broken armrest and shabby fabric covering. The wallpaper here peeled at the water-damaged ceiling and there was a cracked pane of glass along the set of doors that led to the garden.
He frowned at the odd condition of the chamber, but stepped in nonetheless and crossed to exit outside. There was a small terrace with a set of stairs down and he took it with a breath of the fresh, warm air. The summer was coming to an end, but there was a still a softness to the breeze he’d always loved. Summer always made him feel younger, a bit more carefree.
He made his way through the garden, which was planted prettily with rosebushes which now had fading buds, tall trees whose leaves were just beginning to turn coppery and a few bushes that bore their end of season berries. There was nothing amazing about the space, but it was peaceful and comforting.
He strolled through the paths, pausing occasionally to look at a patinaed bronze fountain or smell the odd remaining flower. He was beginning to recover himself from the long ride when he glanced up and found he wasn’t alone in the garden. There, across the way, standing beside a gazebo, was Miss Clarissa Lockhart. She still wore the hat with the large brim that shaded her face, but he recognized the white gown she’d worn earlier to greet her guests. The one he now noticed did indeed have a gauzy fabric tucked at the neckline to cover almost every inch of skin there. It seemed George was correct that she had taken the etiquette book to heart that his friend had described.
Roderick thought about turning away, avoiding the encounter, but at that moment she looked in his direction and he could see by the way her posture stiffened that she saw him. He sighed and started toward her.
“Miss Lockhart,” he said. “I see we had the same idea to walk in the garden before preparing for supper.”
Her lips pursed as he reached her, her brown eyes moving over him in an appraising fashion. She seemed to find his every fault, for her frown did not change.
“Lord Kirkwood. What a pleasure.”
It didn’t sound like a pleasure to her and Roderick stifled a smile at her pepper, which she was clearly trying to temper out of politeness. That little battle inside of her must have been exhausting.
“It’s a wonderful garden,” he said. “I am especially fond of that oak tree at the center.”
They both turned toward the huge tree with its thick trunk and wide branches that provided shade to a good portion of the garden.
“It has been here since even before the house, my lord,” she said. “They estimate it to be over three hundred years old.”
He nodded and didn’t have to pretend to be impressed. “It has seen a great deal of change then. Had many a youth climb it, perhaps even a few young lovers carve their initials in its bark.”
Her gaze held his a moment and then flitted away. “I’m sure.”
“You’ve never looked?” he asked with a laugh as he stepped toward the tree. He slowly moved around it, looking up the length as far as he could manage. He had almost completed the turn when he saw, high up, the faint scar of a heart. “There!”
She had been standing back, but now she rushed forward to join him and looked up where he pointed.
“Oh, you’re right,” she said, the coldness removed from her tone for a moment. “What initials are they there? ”
He squinted. “It looks like an AR and a FL or maybe a PL?”
She made a soft sound from her throat and he turned to see her gazing at the heart. “I wonder why I never noticed it.”
“Well, it’s at least three feet above my head,” he said. “And you’re a head shorter than I am. Anyway, sometimes we don’t see what’s right in front of us.”
“I suppose that’s true,” she mused and then she turned her gaze on him. Her lips thinned once more, whatever little truce she’d allowed when they examined the oak tree gone. “Well, I should go in. Please enjoy your walk, my lord.”
“I will,” he said with a slight bow. “I look forward to speaking with you more later.”
She didn’t respond to that, but gave a small curtsey and headed back toward the house. She moved to a larger set of stairs that went to the main terrace above and disappeared from his view once the angle became too high.
It was plain the woman didn’t like him and he supposed it didn’t bother him. Or at least it shouldn’t. So he shrugged it off and continued his turn about the garden, at peace with the fact that the oh-so-proper Miss Lockhart was not someone he would have to concern himself with.
A lthough the gathering at her family’s estate was meant to be a way to present her to eligible suitors, Clarissa couldn’t help but feel a burst of relief when she discovered one of the people seated next to her at supper was Lady Ramsbury. She’d known Marianne before her marriage, though hadn’t been allowed much to interact since the countess had once been a wallflower. A failure, Mr. and Mrs. Lockhart had said, implying, of course, that Clarissa could easily follow in those footsteps if she wasn’t careful.
But now Marianne was a welcomed addition, an encouraged connection, because she had at last married well and was in a position of power.
“You do look lovely in that blue, my lady,” Clarissa said, looking with longing at the silk of her friend’s gown. It was so fine, in an icy blue with short puffed sleeves and cords of the same fabric coming down across the bodice. Even though Marianne’s collarbones were revealed, it didn’t seem immodest.
And yet, Clarissa knew she couldn’t be so bold. Etiquette said that a young lady should not be too showy, and exhibit her modesty and innocence by wearing only white gowns.
“Thank you,” Lady Ramsbury said with a genuine smile. “Sebastian picked out the fabric himself. I love it, for it matches his eyes.”
They both glanced down the table where the earl was sitting near her cousin, George. The two men had known each other a long time and were talking in a friendly manner. Lord Ramsbury seemed to sense his wife’s regard, though, for he turned those startling blue eyes toward her, smiled with a heavy dose of wickedness and lifted his glass as if to toast her.
Clarissa broke her gaze away from the inappropriate show of their connection, but Lady Ramsbury only laughed. “I swear, the man delights in reminding all that he might be a very reformed rake, but a rake he most definitely once was.”
Clarissa shifted. The idea of a rake put her to mind of a different earl. Lord Kirkwood and his playful demeanor in the garden earlier. He’d acted as if he wasn’t doing something wrong by being here and engaged her in conversation without thought to their lack of relationship. If that was what one got with a rake, she was not interested. The man was, of course, terribly handsome, but so were a great many men. Looks weren’t everything.
“I’m very happy for your joy, my lady,” Clarissa said. “And that you could join us at this gathering. I’ve always wished to better make your acquaintance.”
Lady Ramsbury smiled at her. “As have I. I think you and I might have a great deal in common. You are of a bookish sort, yes? ”
Clarissa winced. Indeed, she had always loved to read and study up on every subject she could find. As a young girl, her parents hadn’t seemed to care enough to put her love of learning to a stop. But after her first Season out when she hadn’t landed a husband, they’d begun to intervene. Imply that she might be viewed as a bluestocking and seen as less desirable if she were too clever.
“I-I fear I have little time for books anymore,” she said.
Lady Ramsbury’s brow knitted as if she didn’t fully understand that idea. “Well, if you are of a mind, Sebastian and I finished up a very good novel on our way from London. I’d be happy to lend it to you.”
“You and the earl…read together?” Clarissa asked, looking again at Ramsbury at the other end of the table. He was laughing at something one of his companions said.
“Oh, yes,” Lady Ramsbury replied. “He’s always been a great reader and enjoys sharing a story with me, or deeper fare where we can discuss history or even politics.”
Clarissa pursed her lips. The idea of finding a mate who might actually celebrate her mind was a bewitching one. And yet that wasn’t the way she classified the men she encountered in her search for a husband. Compatibility had more to do with rank and influence and steering away from anyone she didn’t think she could stand for the rest of her life.
“That’s lovely,” she said.
Lady Ramsbury looked at her a moment, then changed the subject. They began to talk of the recently ended Season and Clarissa relaxed at the more benign topic. Sometimes when she was forced to face her husband hunt, there was a flare of panic in her chest. A true terror. But she couldn’t afford that.
Soon enough the supper ended and the men separated from the women to have their port and a game of billiards. The women began to make their way toward the parlor where the group would reconvene later to play some games and talk. Clarissa saw that her mother was waiting for her to help lead the group and hustled to walk with her.
“You spoke with Lady Ramsbury for a long time during supper,” Mrs. Lockhart said without much preamble.
Clarissa nodded. “Yes, I was so pleased to get a chance to reconnect with her and?—”
“But you all but ignored the marquess. He was seated on your right,” her mother interrupted.
Clarissa bit her tongue so she would not reply too sharply or swiftly. Respect for one’s parents. She had to recall that. “I suppose I didn’t,” she agreed. “He is…he’s much older than I am, you know. I think he fell asleep during supper.”
They entered the parlor and her mother faced her. “What does his age matter? He’s a fine prospect, for his late wife only gave him daughters and he wants a son, which you could provide.”
Clarissa gasped at such an uncouth suggestion. “Mama, please lower your voice.”
Mrs. Lockhart glared at her but did so. “And he is finely situated. He could definitely help right things for your father and I.”
Clarissa didn’t respond. How could she? This was the constant conversation, after all. The constant desperate stir that her mother created when the topic came up. “Yes, Mama.”
Her mother shook her head. “If you don’t like him, then there are others, you know. Even your cousin has provided us with a fine and unexpected opportunity by bringing the Earl of Kirkwood. He’s certainly young enough for your lofty standards and no one could say he isn’t handsome.”
Clarissa stepped back. “We wouldn’t suit.”
Mrs. Lockhart shook her head and a great sadness entered her gaze. “You would be so selfish, would you? You would deny your parents?”
She tsked and then walked away to some of the other women, leaving Clarissa to watch after her with a heavy heart. Despite all her attempts to be open to the needs and wants of her parents, despite trying to honor and respect them, the fact that neither of them seemed to count her happiness when they thought of her future was…
Painful. It was painful. But it was also a fact of life. And so she pushed the emotion away and she hoped cleared it from her expression before she stepped up to speak to some of the other ladies in attendance. The way to end the interference in her life was to simply do what her family required.
And that was to find the right husband as swiftly as possible. Before either of them decided to take matters into their own hands.