Chapter 17
Lavender stood on the edge of the ballroom and tried to commit herself to the evening, but she was comfortable back here, watching everyone dance.
She recalled her mother’s letter she’d received only this morning.
Her father’s health continued to worsen, and she’d pleaded with Lavender to hasten her way to the altar.
It was a terrible mindset for a ball. Already she’d been asked for three dances, and the musicians were only just tuning their instruments.
This would likely be the last moment she would be allowed to hold up the wall.
Miriam was visiting with a group of matrons nearby, but once dancing began, the duchess would be focused on helping Lavender to fill her evening with potential suitors.
Miss Dalrymple sidled up to her. “You look lovely this evening.”
Lavender’s white dress was trimmed in a pale blue; it was elegant but simple, and she loved it. “Thank you, Miss Dalrymple. You look lovely as well.”
Miss Dalrymple’s dress was quite opposite Lavender’s.
She was wearing a dark green dress with rows of flounces at the hem and along her neckline.
It wasn’t too much for a ball, but the dress wouldn’t be able to be worn in a single other situation.
“It is just like Lord Chilcott to host a ball and not have the musicians ready on time. I heard a rumor that you and he are becoming quite close.”
“I wouldn’t put much stock in rumors if I were you.”
Miss Dalrymple’s eyebrows rose on her forehead in shock. “Very well. What have you discovered about our missing duke?” she asked.
Shrugging, Lavender looked out at the crowd. “Not much. Only that he had a tendency to drink, but not become angry. It sounds like his servants were treated well.” She thought back on her conversation with Tom. “I didn’t realize he lost his father so young.”
Miss Dalrymple let out a huff. “Really, I expected more of you.”
It was the first time this Season that Lavender had sensed the tone of competition glaring out from her words, reminding Lavender of their families' well-mannered battles. Even though Meredith Dalrymple was only a couple years her elder, she sounded like Mrs. Dalrymple at that moment. It was obvious that she was disappointed in the information, or lack thereof, but Lavender wasn’t going to start making stories up in order to please her.
“I do hope you get to the bottom of your case soon.”
“Yes, well,” Miss Dalrymple turned to leave.
“That’s not likely unless I get some new information.
” She looked down her nose at Lavender. “Enjoy the ball.” She walked off and Lavender had the distinct feeling that something between them was changed.
The fragile friendship they’d begun to create was not strong enough to withstand volatility like this.
It seemed that—once again—Lavender was failing to bring peace to the people around her.
She’d been failing at that particular endeavor quite often lately, and most often with herself. Her mother had hoped to raise a peacemaker . . . and Lavender felt like she’d just brought about more contention.
All at once, she had no interest in the ball.
She hugged the wall, escaping the large room and finding an empty corridor.
She didn’t care where she ended up so long as it was away from the masses of bodies crushed together.
After traversing the darkened corridor for a spell, she turned the knob on an ornate door and let herself inside.
There were a few candles lit on sconces that lit the space, and Lavender felt an incredible weight lift from her shoulders.
A library.
It wasn’t what would be in the grand estates of the country, but floor to ceiling on one wall was stuffed full of books.
Two sofas faced each other in the center of the room, but aside from that there was no other furniture in the space.
Lavender walked along the book wall and allowed her finger to trail along the spines of the books as she inhaled the scent of paper and dust. A book on physics caught her eye, and she made herself comfortable on the sofa.
Perhaps if she allowed herself to read just a few pages, it would be enough to settle her nerves after her encounter with Miss Dalrymple.
“Has my ball been so awful that you’ve gone into hiding?” a low male voice came from the doorway.
Lavender adjusted herself to be sitting upright as she looked at Lord Chilcott. “Forgive me, my lord. I only meant to sit down for a moment. Shall we return to your guests?” She stood up, feeling guilty for being here, but he closed the door behind him and walked slowly toward her.
“There is no rush, Lady Lavender.”
But there was a rush—she could not be found alone with him. “I’m afraid the duchess might feel differently. I don’t want to cause her any alarm.”
“You have only been in here for five minutes; she can wait a little longer before she even suspects you are trying to cry off on the ball altogether.” He put a hand on her arm, standing close beside her.
Five minutes wasn’t so terrible. She often lost herself in books for hours at a time without realizing how long it had been. “Well, in that case, I am glad you found me so quickly.” She looked down at his hand, still holding onto her arm, then looked back at his face.
A look shadowed his blue eyes that Lavender couldn’t interpret, but she broke out in gooseflesh as if she’d been dumped into a cellar.
She wiggled to extricate herself from his hold.
“Lady Lavender,” he let her arm go, to her great relief, “If it is respite you require, allow me to be of service.” He put his arms out wide and flashed her a brilliant smile.
A smile that she didn't trust one little bit.
“I do not require anything from you, Lord Chilcott.” She stood up and faced the exit, not liking that the door was closed tightly.
“Ah, but my lady, I am still awaiting your answer as to our growing relationship.” He loomed beside her. “I have been waiting these two days. Surely, you don’t intend to leave here before you give me your answer.”
Lavender smiled to buy herself some time.
She didn’t want to accept his suit at all.
The man is a jackanapes. Tom’s voice filtered through her thoughts.
She didn’t like the gleam in Lord Chilcott’s eyes.
But how to escape the situation without calling attention to their compromising position?
“I have been thinking on your idea.” She took small steps toward the door, and he followed, right at her elbow.
“I believe we ought to take it a bit slower and get to know each other before we make any intentions known.”
Lord Chilcott placed a hand at the small of her back and pulled her close to his side. “I don’t mind taking things slow.”
Lavender tensed under his too-familiar touch. His idea of taking things slow was apparently quite different from hers. “Lovely.” she put a hand on his chest and pushed away from him. “Perhaps we can get an ice sometime and simply talk?”
Lightning flashed in his eyes, but he allowed her to leave the room half at a run. There was no peace to be found tonight, especially in that particular library. She found Miriam in the retiring room searching for her.
“Lavender,” she said, extending both her arms out to her.
She pulled her in close and dropped her voice to a whisper.
“Miss Dalrymple asked me where you’d gone off to, and I’ve been looking everywhere for you the past quarter of an hour.
Is everything alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Miriam’s eyes bounced back and forth between Lavender’s, searching for an answer.
They were beginning to garner attention from the other ladies in the room. “I do feel a little out of sorts tonight. Perhaps I can take the carriage home?”
Miriam nodded beside her. “Yes, I’m feeling a little low tonight as well. Let’s go get my husband.”
They left the powder room arm in arm. Much to Lavender’s mortification, Miriam’s husband, the Duke of Gilfordshire, was speaking with Lord Chilcott. “Ah, Lady Lavender,” the duke said. “Lord Chilcott was just looking for you.”
Lavender dipped a curtsey. “I apologize, Your Grace. I haven’t been feeling quite right.”
“Nor have I,” Miriam joined in. “Please do forgive our early departure, Lord Chilcott.”
Lord Chilcott stepped forward, took Lavender’s hand and bowed over it, bestowing a kiss on her white glove. “Allow me to see you out.”
Miriam caught Lavender’s eye and winked, obviously pleased with the situation. “Thank you, my lord. We will follow shortly.”
Lavender knew that Miriam was trying to do her a favor by giving them a few moments alone together, but that was precisely what Lavender wanted to avoid. She allowed him to thread her hand through his arm and lead her from the ballroom and out onto the gravel drive.
“Lady Lavender, you must forgive me for earlier. I have no ill intentions toward you. I realize that being alone with me in the library likely had you worried over your reputation.”
She felt herself relax just a bit. “Yes, the thought had crossed my mind.”
He chuckled. “I thought as much. If you are feeling better tomorrow, might I take you to Gunter’s for an ice? We can sit in the shade and talk, as you suggested.”
“I would enjoy that.” Had she been imagining ill intentions from the man all along? At the moment, he seemed entirely amiable.
She would do as Miss Dalrymple suggested earlier in their friendship and watch for consistencies in his character. Then again, Miss Dalrymple was perhaps one of the most changeable beings she knew at the moment. What did that say about her advice or her true intentions?
When the carriage rolled into the drive at the Duke of Gilfordshire’s townhouse, Lavender had no intention of going to bed—there was too much on her mind. “I believe I’ll go out to the garden for a while,” she announced to the duke and duchess.
“I’ll join you,” the duke said immediately. “I’d like to try out that swing for myself.”
“And I’ll check in on Jack,” Miriam said, making eye contact with her husband in some meaningful way that Lavender didn’t understand.
He offered Lavender his arm as they walked around the side of the house. “How have you enjoyed the Season thus far?”
Lavender looked up at him, “I enjoy parts of it very much. There are a hundred different things to occupy my mind. And yet, not enough time to read.”
The duke laughed. “No, I don’t suppose for you there will ever be enough time for all the books you want to read.”
“You know me quite well, it seems.”
“I wouldn’t presume as much, but your sister does. She speaks quite highly of you and your library.”
Lavender looked sideways at the duke. “Does Rose fear me to be too bluestocking for my own good?”
“Not at all. She glories in your ability to find solace at Gardner Manor.”
Interesting. But then again, Rose likely never felt at peace when she’d lived at home.
She’d probably felt more like she was at a stringent boarding school where all they did was try you until you broke.
Rose never broke, but when she married, certainly the chains of her expectations were left behind at Gardner Manor.
“Do you expect a visit from her and Frederick anytime soon?”
“Not soon enough. Miriam can lead the ton by the nose if she so chooses, but she always has more fun with Freddy and your sister around.”
How would it be to have friends like that?
For a short while, Lavender had hoped that Miss Dalrymple would prove to become a close friend.
But it seemed their family disagreements might run too deep.
Samuel approached the swing, and Lavender stepped aside.
“The only way to inspect a swing correctly is to sit on it.”
The duke looked at her with raised eyebrows.
“Go on,” she prodded. “I’ll fetch Tom to push you if you’d like. He is quite skilled at the task.”
The duke sat on the swing and muttered something under his breath. Something about being sure he was. “I think I can handle the swing on my own.” The Duke of Gilfordshire started pumping his legs back and forth, making the swing arc higher and higher with each pass.
“He’s going to break the tree,” a deep voice whispered into Lavender’s ear.
She jumped at Tom’s surprise appearance, and she couldn’t keep the smile from growing on her face.