Chapter 2 #2
Matilda eyed her mother over the cup of tea she was preparing for her. “That’s because he doesn’t like outdoor pursuits. Or killing things,” she murmured softly.
Her mother stiffened. “What nonsense! All men enjoy killing things.”
I found this a puzzling sentiment, for I knew plenty of men who didn’t enjoy harming living creatures.
For all that Gage had been to war and been forced to injure or kill culprits in the course of his duties as a gentleman inquiry agent, I knew that he didn’t enjoy such violence.
Just as I knew he didn’t precisely enjoy hunting as sport, no matter that it was a staple activity of the country gentleman.
Both Alana and Lorna also seemed troubled by this attitude, perhaps thinking of their sons. As such, I searched for a safe change of topic.
I crossed the room toward one of the cabriole-legged chairs set near the cooling draft of the windows, noting that Mrs. Birnam was fluffing her sleeves again. Either she was uncomfortable, or she wished someone to remark upon them.
“Such exquisite material,” I told her. “And the color complements your eyes.” Which were a soft shade of brown.
“Thank you. I’m told it’s the latest fashion from Paris.
” She smoothed a hand over the satin fabric across her lap.
“With Mr. Birnam’s enhanced position, I find it is important that I dress to reflect his status.
” She accepted her cup of tea and a selection of small sandwiches from her daughter.
“But perhaps not everyone shares this view. Or maybe the extra fabric is too costly.”
Despite her brief but pointed stare at my attire, I didn’t realize she was criticizing my appearance until I heard Alana choke on her tea. Matilda’s expression was horrified.
“Oh, no. It’s not that,” I replied, resigned by now to my unfashionableness. “I simply don’t like the style.”
Mrs. Birnam blinked at me as if I’d grown a second head. “You simply don’t like the style?”
“No,” I said with a light shrug of my shoulders before taking a bite of cucumber and watercress sandwich.
“But…why?”
It was my turn to stare back at her in bemusement, unsure what was so confusing about what I’d said.
“The sleeves. They’re cumbersome, and they interfere with my painting.
” And painting was my passion, in particular portraits.
I spent as many hours in my art studio each day as I could.
Which, given my demands as hostess of this house party, would be very few over the next fortnight.
The thought was enough to make me stifle a forlorn sigh.
I tilted my head, considering the extreme proportions of Mrs. Birnam’s à la mode gown. “They also distort the natural human figure, making the silhouette ungainly.”
Mrs. Birnam bristled.
“She’s speaking in terms of artistic aesthetic, Mother,” Matilda hastened to say.
I halted before taking another bite of sandwich. “What else would I be speaking in terms of?”
My sister made another sound at the back of her throat, but this time I could tell she was smothering laughter, though I didn’t know exactly what I’d said to cause her such amusement.
Even Lorna was hiding a smile behind the brim of her cup.
She rolled her heavily lashed green eyes at me playfully, as if I was in on the jest.
A jest that Mrs. Birnam appeared to believe was being made at her expense. “Yes, I’d forgotten that Mr. St. Mawr warned you about his sister’s peculiar proclivities,” she stated slyly to her daughter.
My chest grew tight, and I felt my expression begin to fall, though I knew I shouldn’t let her see how this comment had distressed me.
The trouble was, I’d been fending off malicious remarks about my awkward demeanor and unnatural tendencies for what seemed my entire life.
Society, in particular, was most unkind to those who did not conform.
And when the scandal that had broken after my involvement with the work of my first husband, the anatomist Sir Anthony Darby, had become known—heedless of the particulars and my enforced participation—it had only made matters worse.
That being said, my second marriage and my role assisting Gage to bring murderers, thieves, and other criminals to justice had gone a long way to preparing my reputation.
My family’s and friends’ love and support had also helped heal many of my old wounds.
Which was why it was so hurtful to hear that Trevor had felt it necessary to warn Matilda about me.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have been upset, for my brother had undoubtedly meant well, but I couldn’t halt the sickening swirl of shame that filled my stomach all the same.
And I couldn’t hide it from him when he was the first of the returning men to stride through the door.
“Hail your conquering heroes,” Trevor announced, a jovial smile splitting his face. One that began to die as he first caught sight of Matilda’s countenance and then glanced at me and our sister, who appeared ready to spit fire. She had always been protective of me.
Mr. Birnam followed soon after, clapping Trevor on the back. “And would ye look at this fitting feast they’ve prepared in our honor.” His broad barrel chest shook as he chuckled, the bushy red hair going to white at the sides of his face catching the light.
“I hardly think these ladies were in any danger from a deer and a few pheasants,” Alfie drawled, his dark hair in artful disarray.
He went straight to his wife, wrapping an arm around Lorna’s waist and pressing a kiss to her temple before whispering something in her ear that made her smile and pinken, uncaring of what others might think of this public display of affection.
Truth be told, it made me like Gage’s cousin all the more for it.
“Dinna dampen our spirits, lad,” Mr. Birnam countered in his loud brogue. “ ’Twas a fine bag. Especially for this lad’s first attempt.”
Malcolm smiled shyly as Mr. Birnam and the others cheered him.
At the sight of her son, Alana’s anger swiftly died, and she moved forward to greet him and Philip, my brother-in-law, who stood behind Malcolm, a hand on his shoulder.
As the trio drew to the side to confer, I could tell that Alana was relieved to find them both hale and whole.
Just as I was when Gage entered after them.
Even after two years of marriage, my heart still fluttered whenever I saw him again after we’d been separated for any length of time.
His skin was bronzed and his golden hair bleached from the hours he spent in the sun every day at the estate.
This made the pale winter blue of his eyes all the more arresting when they landed on me.
I could tell from the tiny furrow that formed between his brows that he’d noticed something was amiss, just as I could tell from the hard line of his jaw that the hunt had not proved as enjoyable for everyone.
When his father failed to join us, it wasn’t difficult to figure out who.
I stifled my grimace by taking another bite of sandwich, though the flavor had lost its appeal.
My father-in-law had already made it clear how much he resented my subjecting him to Jeremiah Birnam, whom he deemed a trumped-up tradesman.
He’d made it crystal clear what a disaster he believed Trevor was courting by pursuing Matilda’s hand, no matter how large her dowry.
I’d ignored this pronouncement. Hadn’t he also opposed me and Gage marrying?
Vehemently. But his dire predictions for this house party were harder to ignore, especially now that they seemed to be coming true.
If Lord Gage’s political cronies were lords after his own mold, then they were not going to appreciate Mr. Birnam’s blustering presence either.
I could sense the unasked query in Gage’s gaze and minutely shook my head. There wasn’t time to confer now. Not without drawing unwanted attention. So he turned to the tea table instead, but only after offering me a sympathetic smile.
“And how have you ladies been entertaining yourselves?” Trevor asked after pouring himself a cup of tea and moving to stand next to Matilda. This was obviously asked out of politeness. He had no way of knowing he was potentially setting light to a powder keg.
I braced myself, waiting for Mrs. Birnam to rattle off her list of complaints, only to be surprised when she kept her counsel.
It was Matilda who had to speak up, answering somewhat obscurely.
“Oh, with this and that. We’ve been admiring the gardens.
” She glanced about as if searching for someone, and I realized she’d meant to compliment Lord Gage.
Her smile fell a notch when she realized he wasn’t present.
“We were planning to take a stroll after tea.”
“Delightful.” Trevor leaned toward her. “And may I join?”
Matilda twinkled up at him. “But of course.”
“Where is Jemmy?” Mrs. Birnam suddenly demanded to know. This was why she’d remained quiet, then. She’d been focused on her son. “He must have returned with you.”
The men all turned to look at one another as if someone else held the answer.
“I sent him to fetch Miss Whitlock,” Mr. Birnam finally responded around a bite of something. He didn’t even bother to look up but continued filling his plate while alternately stuffing morsels into his mouth.
Judging from Mrs. Birnam’s ferocious scowl, this was not favorable news. Even Matilda seemed startled by his pronouncement. Yet Mr. Birnam appeared all but oblivious to his family’s reaction.
It could not be denied; this was a bit of an odd turn.
I had been introduced to Miss Portia Whitlock the day of the Birnams’ arrival, but then she had been indisposed, so I’d had no chance to offer her more than that initial greeting.
In truth, I’d not anticipated interacting with her more than that, for she was not a guest in the traditional sense, but rather an employee of Mr. Birnam—his private secretary.