Chapter Eight
Perhaps ices with Miss Summerfield had been too bold a first step to take toward forming their required friendship.
Odette had panicked when she’d come face-to-face with the young lady.
She’d proposed a very public, very impersonal activity.
She hadn’t reckoned with the necessity of driving in the same carriage, sitting at a small table, and conversing with her secret rival while half of London looked on.
Mrs. Northrop wasn’t particularly helpful. She had come along but sat in silence all the way to Gunter’s. Odette had done her best to keep up a conversation. Miss Summerfield, however, was far quieter than she’d been during their drive in Hyde Park. Mrs. Northrop could be a little intimidating.
As they sat in Gunter’s, the silence between the three of them became increasingly uncomfortable.
“It is a shame you have not been able to spend more time at Hazelfield,” Odette said, naming the estate the Summerfields had purchased in the neighborhood. “Ours is a lovely little corner of the world.”
“It does seem to be,” Miss Summerfield said. “My parents prefer to divide their time between multiple places. I never seem to be granted time enough to come to know any one home or group of families.”
Odette could not truly relate. “Coming to London this Season is only the third time I have ever left the immediate vicinity of the home where I grew up.”
“That sounds nice.” Miss Summerfield sighed.
“As does the opportunity to travel.” She offered a smile to her tentative friend. “Perhaps we should attempt to switch places. You could remain in Somerset, and I could wander the country.”
“Our parents might notice.” Miss Summerfield made the observation with the same subtle dryness she’d used a few times during their Hyde Park ride.
“Does your family mean to return to Hazelfield after the Season?” Odette didn’t know what she hoped the answer was.
“I believe we are, though not for very long.” Loneliness touched the explanation.
Odette understood the ache of being isolated. She’d spent so much of her time in London feeling precisely that way. She had enjoyed Miss Summerfield’s company during their previous ride, which had been surprising enough. Her heart ached for her neighbor now.
“Perhaps,” she heard herself saying, “your parents would allow you to stay with us when they grow anxious to begin traveling again. You could come to know the neighborhood.”
“Your parents might not appreciate taking on a houseguest so soon after returning to the country. Most people prefer a bit of peace and quiet after the madness of the Season.” Yet a hopefulness hung under the words.
“Having a friend nearby is a joyful thing, though. That is its own kind of peace.”
Miss Summerfield didn’t speak for a moment. She watched Odette, searching her face. “Do you consider me a friend?”
“I would like to.” Her own words rang with a truth she had not been expecting.
“I would like that as well.”
Mrs. Northrop had remained entirely quiet.
She simply sat, serenely sipping at her tea.
Nothing ever ruffled Mrs. Northrop. When she had first arrived, her unshakableness had bothered Odette.
Now she found it reassuring. This lady meant to help her undo the mess that her life had become.
Being firm and confident was an asset in times of uncertainty.
“Has your family visited Burnham, Miss Summerfield?” Odette asked.
“Please, call me Tabitha.” The request was made with palpable uncertainty, as if she expected a rejection. Did that unfortunate anticipation come from her own timidity, or had it grown out of Odette’s reputation as Princess Pompous?
“And I am Odette.”
Surprise was quickly replaced by excitement. “We have been to Burnham. It is a lovely little town, and I do enjoy the sea.”
Mrs. Northrop quite suddenly entered the conversation. “Does your family visit any particular places more often than others?”
“Our homes, of course,” she said. “Those are our only regular destinations.”
“You must have a wide circle of friends,” Mrs. Northrop said.
Tabitha’s gaze dropped to the tabletop. “We do not stay in any one place long enough for me to gain many true friends. We’ve been in London longer than most anywhere else, yet, other than Odette”—she looked briefly up, smiling—“I have not made any friends.”
“I haven’t, either,” Odette confessed. “I hadn’t anticipated how much having a friend would mean during the Season. All we are ever told to concentrate on is suitors.”
“Indeed.” Tabitha looked to her fully once more. “But you do seem to have something of a friendship with Mr. Lexington. And, of course, you grew up with Mr. Hewitt.”
“You know Mr. Hewitt as well.” Odette managed the observation without sounding bitter. To her even greater surprise, she didn’t truly feel bitter.
“Yes,” Tabitha said, “but he goes to great lengths not to spend any time with me if he can help it. I cannot blame him. It is difficult for gentlemen and ladies to spend time with each other when Society is so eager to create rumors whenever possible.”
Mrs. Northrop set her teacup down and folded her hands in front of her on the table. “You wish to avoid rumors connecting your name with Mr. Hewitt’s?”
Odette’s eyes pulled wide. This was hitting a bit too close to the mark.
“No one wishes to force a gentleman’s hand,” Tabitha answered.
Not quite the answer she would have preferred. Something more along the lines of “I have so little romantic interest in Mr. Hewitt that I cannot countenance the idea of even a whispered connection between us” would have been far better.
“Mr. Lexington appeared to enjoy your company at the Salsteads’ ball,” Mrs. Northrop said. “And Mr. Hewitt rode out with you in Hyde Park. Odette happily invited you on today’s excursion. I believe you have forged more connections than you realize.”
Color touched Tabitha’s cheeks. “I hope you are correct.”
They had finished their small selection of pastries and ices. They would be leaving soon. Odette found she regretted the necessity.
“We are attending the opera tonight,” she said. “If you do not have unchangeable plans, would you join us in our box?”
“I would dearly love that.”
They returned Tabitha to her home. Odette repeated her offer, hoping it would be taken up.
On the ride back to Barrington House, when only the two of them were in the carriage, Mrs. Northrop said, “You seem to have enjoyed Miss Summerfield’s company.”
“I did, indeed. I hope the Summerfields will stay in the neighborhood for a time after the Season.”
Mrs. Northrop tipped her head to one side, watching her. “Even though her parents and the Hewitts intend to pursue a match?”
That reality had very nearly pushed itself from her mind. “She did not seem overeager to pursue that herself, did she?”
“Not at all,” Mrs. Northrop said. “Though, if I am not mistaken, she does have an interest in someone.”
Odette had not received that impression at all. “Whom?”
“The same young gentleman Mrs. Hewitt insists has an interest in you.”
“Mr. Lexington?” She practically spat the name, so great was her shock.
Mrs. Northrop tapped her fingertips together, eyes squinted in thought.
“I saw no indication Tabitha had feelings for him,” Odette said. “She hardly mentioned him.”
“Precisely.” Mrs. Northrop’s eyes wandered to the window, but she did not appear to actually be looking at anything. “When I spoke of the attention she had received from Mr. Hewitt and the time she’d spent with you, she discussed it. But my mention of Mr. Lexington was soundly ignored.”
It had been, now that Odette thought back on it. “And she did blush rather immediately afterward.”
Mrs. Northrop nodded. “I watched the two of them at the ball. Tabitha looked at Mr. Lexington in much the same way you look at young Mr. Hewitt, though her gaze is far less hopeful.”
Someone who had less hope in her future than Odette did? Her heart ached for her new friend. “What can we do?”
Mrs. Northrop looked at her once more. “Concern for others is not precisely a Princess Pompous trait.”
“I am not really—” Her irritation dissipated at the twinkle in Mrs. Northrop’s eye. “You are the one who told me to shed my haughty persona.”
“And I am so pleased that you are doing so. I like the Odette I have been coming to know these past days.”
The compliment was humble and small, yet it filled her heart with warmth. Someone liked her. That had become a rare thing these past months. She’d begun to doubt if it was even possible anymore.
“It has been nice being more myself,” she said. “Are you certain, though, your plan will work? What if—?” She cut off her own question. She was trying to have confidence in Mrs. Northrop’s expertise.
“Be true to the person you are. Build your friendship with Tabitha. I will sort out the gentlemen.”
She would believe it. She had to.
***
Adelaide wrote out a very specific set of instructions, which she had delivered to young Mr. Hewitt.
He and his friend would join Lord and Lady Barrington, their daughter, and her friend in their opera box that night.
Adelaide would watch and ascertain a few key things.
If all went well, she would begin arranging an intricate dance.
She had managed to maneuver far more complicated connections, yet she still figuratively held her breath.
She was not unaware of the fact that people’s futures were determined by her success or failure. She did not take that responsibility lightly.