Chapter 16
Atlas
Ihad been grossly misinformed. Tea with Lady Timbrell was no private affair.
It was a lady’s code for an afternoon party.
There was nothing casual or simple about the spread of dainty refreshments or the number of attendants.
There were at least six other guests besides my family—only one of them male—and I dreaded the thought that more women might spring themselves on us at any moment.
At one point, I would have relished the thought of being surrounded by women.
Now, I would rather be home walking the grounds with one of my hired guards.
Guards who had discovered a trespasser on my grounds only last night. They had chased him, but the man had evaded them. Early this morning, we had discovered remnants of a small fire just off my property. Had it been a random occurrence, or did it mean my attacker had finally returned?
I did not want to ruin the party with a sour mood. I owed my family that much. I could be positive and enjoy a little tea. At least I knew my aunt’s opinion of Mary Anne and that it was not likely that she would be invited.
“Be the gentleman everyone remembers, Atlas, and speak to as many guests as you can,” Mother whispered, patting my arm.
Had she been reading my mind? She motioned with her head to the rest of the party.
“Much of the neighborhood has been anxious to see you out and about again. Remind them of your charm.” She left my side and hurried to greet Mr. Bastion.
Her greeting to him was surprisingly enthusiastic.
I had always thought Mr. Bastion to be a sourpuss, but he smiled at Mother.
Perhaps he had had a lecture about trying to be charming too.
Of all the ideas. I had no desire to charm a room full of gossiping women.
Admittedly, the old me enjoyed tantalizing gossip—dropping names of the ton and citing little known facts about them.
But not anymore. Now the trivial on dit left me dissatisfied and restless.
If it did not bring me closer to discovering my attacker or my savior, I did not care to hear it.
Though sorely tempted to excuse myself, I held my ground.
Since I was here already, I would use the time to observe Miss Lewis as planned.
Was it too much to hope that I would learn her motives for coming to Rosemont?
Perhaps I could charm her for answers. Now that made me smile.
After sneaking up on her twice now, I had not learned enough to satisfy me.
“Who is this?” Lady Timbrell asked, approaching with maternal arms outstretched. “Not the new companion?”
My eyes found Miss Lewis just as she produced a demure smile. Today her hair was braided over her ears and pulled back into a twist the shape of an S. Her yellow day gown was equally fashionable. I was interested to discover what my aunt, Lady Timbrell, would make of her.
Augusta preened like she was showing off a new puppy. “Isn’t she wonderful? My brother insisted I keep her.”
“I insisted?” I did not believe those were my exact words.
Augusta shot me a glare. “He is being modest. He knows companionship is exactly what I need. Miss Lewis has become a fast favorite of mine.”
My sister spoke of her companion as if she were another one of her pets that she had collected. Poor Miss Lewis.
Lady Timbrell’s generous smile enveloped her rosy cheeks. “Is that so, Lord Camden? Then perhaps Miss Lewis can be favorites of us all.”
I took a step back and watched, with hands clasped behind my back, as Lady Timbrell took Miss Lewis by the arm as if they had known each other for years.
“What an enchanting creature you are,” Lady Timbrell said. “I daresay, you won’t stay a companion for long with those bright eyes and that striking dark hair.”
“You flatter me,” Miss Lewis said, clearly uncomfortable by Lady Timbrell’s forward manner.
Interesting. I had seen many emotions cross Miss Lewis’s face since her arrival: dazed, confident, embarrassed, flustered .
. . and now it seemed I could add humility to my list. I felt like I knew her better than the calendar would justify, but there were moments when I couldn’t say I knew her at all.
Where was her confidence with Lady Timbrell?
I know she is an acquired taste. While forceful and sometimes intrusive, she was also the most loving, kind person I knew.
Given some time, Miss Lewis would fall under her spell.
With hair as white as snow and more years around the sun than she would likely admit to, Lady Timbrell’s endless energy and enthusiasm for life made her impossible to dislike.
“I never flatter anyone,” Lady Timbrell said decisively. “I only speak the absolute truth. Isn’t that so, Lord Camden?”
I was not prepared to be drawn into the conversation. I pasted on my charming smile—a rusty one at that—and answered. “Truthful to a fault.”
Lady Timbrell laughed and swatted her fan against my arm. “Cheeky boy!”
Teasing aside, Lady Timbrell was right on two counts: her honesty and her lack of exaggeration when describing Miss Lewis’s appearance.
I had appreciated such a fact when I had not been fast enough to check myself in her presence.
But it was what Miss Lewis did with these uncommon looks of hers that mattered.
I had considered the possibility of her being a treasure hunter, but when she blushed with such innocence, such an assumption seemed impossible.
I hoped she would continue to prove me wrong.
Lady Timbrell leaned closer to Miss Lewis. “I won’t be selfish and keep you to myself. Come this way.” She took Miss Lewis around the room and introduced her to the other guests. Lady Timbrell’s voice easily carried to me. “This is Miss Lovelace and Miss Maisie Lovelace.”
I glanced at the Lovelace sisters. I had not seen our closest neighbors for some months.
The formidable Mr. Lovelace must be traveling.
My eyes fell on Collette, the older of the two—though she was beyond the age where I might call her by her given name.
She was at least twenty, and though she had a pretty face with dark hair and was more practically minded than most debutantes, no man would dare court her and face her unyielding father.
An afternoon like this must feel like quite the reprieve for them.
Maisie was Augusta’s age, with striking auburn hair—a shy little thing that flinched at loud noises.
Augusta was a patient friend to them. She loved them both equally and understood when weeks passed without any communication.
As if on cue, Augusta stepped between the sisters and linked arms with them.
“Nice to meet you both,” Miss Lewis said to the Lovelace sisters.
Again, I watched our guest carefully, but she did not appear to regard my neighbors as competition. Very wise of her. The Lovelace sisters were not part of any entourage that pursued me.
Two more women were introduced. “This is Mrs. Hardnett and her daughter, Miss Gloria Hardnett.” Naturally, my eyes went to Miss Hardnett’s—a round-faced woman with deep dimples—but I was unprepared to discover her staring brazenly back at me.
I dipped my head politely and looked away in time to notice Miss Lewis’s curtsy.
“Now that everyone knows each other,” Lady Timbrell said, “take a plate and help yourselves to some sandwiches and cake.”
I moved to allow the women to serve themselves first. Not a moment later, an arm snaked around mine. For one moment of madness, I feared it would be Mary Anne—come to haunt me. Relief filled me when I discovered it was Lady Timbrell. She tugged me farther away from the others.
“It’s good to see you socializing again.”
I smirked. “You act as if I am a hermit.”
“You might as well be. If you only leave your house for business, you are a very dull man indeed.”
“And here I was just thinking about how kind you are.”
Lady Timbrell laughed. “Did I not just mention my honesty? Sometimes the truth is the best kindness a person can offer.”
I sighed, not knowing how to respond.
“Are you ready to step back into the throngs of Society?” she hedged. “There is the matter of securing a wife. You cannot put it off forever.”
I had come to the same conclusion before I had been humiliated by Mary Anne, but I was no longer the same person Society knew me as. Regardless, I could not spend my life haunting the detective’s door and holding everyone I knew in suspicion.
“You will be the first to know.” It was all I could think to say.
That seemed to appease her. She squeezed my arm and left my side.
Not particularly hungry, I followed Augusta and Miss Lewis to an open sofa.
Miss Lewis sat on the middle cushion beside Augusta, so I took the other open seat beside her.
The Lovelace sisters took the chairs beside Augusta, flanking the fireplace—the youngest with a sketchbook open in her lap.
They quickly began discussing whatever it was that women discussed.
It created the perfect opportunity to ask a few questions. I turned to Miss Lewis, who had her teacup raised to her pretty pink lips. “Lovely party. Don’t you agree?”
She lowered her cup and raised a brow. “I know what you’re doing,” she whispered.
I blinked. “You do?” Had I been so transparent?
She nodded. “You’re making certain I do not shirk my duties again.”
I gave an airy laugh, relieved and surprised by her conclusion. “What gave me away?”
“You’ve been watching me.”
It was not hard to watch Miss Lewis—she was as striking as Lady Timbrell claimed.
I had done it a few times by accident. But yes, I had been watching her, and there was no use denying it.
And it had been all the harder since I had overheard her the day before.
“You said you found me handsome. Maybe you are watching me.”
Miss Lewis gaped.
My lips curled into a smile. She was too easy to rile. And if riled, she might reveal any ulterior intentions for coming to Rosemont.
“I—you—I—”
Her stuttering should not have amused me, but I found I couldn’t look away. “You were saying?”
She flattened her lips into a stern line. “I was not staring at you. You were staring at me. And eavesdropping is a vile sin.”
Even if Miss Lewis was a delight to tease, I had no reason to want her angry with me.
I changed tactics. “Perhaps I did intentionally observe you a time or two. It is not for any other reason than to appease my curiosity about the woman who has so much influence over my sister. Isn’t that a natural response? ”
She studied me, her deep-brown eyes darting back and forth between my own. For not the first time, I wondered what she was thinking. I doubt it would be the same as anyone else in this room—or even close.
She set her teacup down on the saucer in her lap. “If you are curious, Lord Camden, why not be direct and ask me.”
What? No games? How refreshing . . . and different. Further proof that she was an innocent creature, and perhaps my suspicions were in vain. “Very well, why are you here?”
“At Lady Timbrell’s?”
“No, at Rosemont.”
The smallest widening of her eyes gave her away. I had been right. There was something more to her purpose for coming than to teach Augusta and earn a modest wage.
Her lips pressed together for a moment, and she searched the room as if to assure no one was listening to us.
Miss Hardnett looked our way a few times, and Miss Lewis hesitated, pulling at her kid gloves.
I eyed the embroidered flowers on the leather, wondering if they did not fit her right and why she always fussed with them. Clearly, this time, she was anxious.
Perhaps this was not the best time for a confession. I opened my mouth to say as much, but she responded first—her words quiet and almost to herself.
“Have you ever felt like a pillow was pressed to your face, making it hard to breathe?”
I had felt that way when my ribs had broken, so it was not hard to answer. “Yes, I have.”
Her brow lifted, surprised. “Then you understand.”
I did not understand at all how that was an answer to my question. Not even the slightest bit. But I felt as if she had confided in me a great secret, and I needed to figure out what it meant. I swallowed, my throat dry. “Did someone try to smother you, Miss Lewis?”
She gave me a soft smile—like one would to a child who was not smart enough to tie a knot or cut his food. “Not literally, of course.” She shook her head and brought her cup to her mouth again.
I was about to ask for further clarification when Miss Collette Lovelace brought Miss Lewis into their conversation. At the same time, Miss Hardnett stood to speak to me. What had Miss Lewis meant? My foot bounced against the blue carpet under my boots. Was this to be the end of our conversation?
I tried to bury my annoyance and be the perfect gentleman like my mother wished me to be, but it was not easy. In between snippets of conversation, my attention inevitably drew to the woman beside me. I was acutely aware of the movement of her hands and the cadence of her voice.
She was too fastidious—too prim and proper—for my taste.
And yet, an image with bread hanging out of her mouth followed by her jumping from a boat into my arms came to mind.
I was not any closer to learning her motivations, but my intrigue of her had heightened.
And to my dismay, I was not completely certain if it was for the same reasons I had come to the tea party for.
I would have to guard myself. I wasn’t ready to feel for another woman, nor had I earned the right to.