“I thank you, sir, but it is unnecessary.”
He chuckled. “I see that now.”
“You do not wish to dance?” I asked, watching my fingers glide along the ivory keys. I had always enjoyed playing the pianoforte, and though I could not claim any particular talent for it, I was tolerable enough.
“I did not say that.”
I glanced at him quickly before watching my fingers again, my cheeks warming at the look in his eyes. Swallowing, I ventured for a light tone. “Mrs. Overton does not wish to dance?”
“She would prefer to rest her feet.”
I could not keep the smile from my lips. “And Mrs. Bennington?”
While I did not look at Daniel, he sounded as though a smile sat on his lips as well. “She would prefer to keep Mrs. Overton company. It is kind of her.”
“Perhaps.”
I hazarded a glance at the dancers, pleased to see Mrs. Bowen dancing with her husband, and Mrs. Heybourne with hers. Mrs. Wheeler was partnered with the older Mr. Bowen, and the blonde woman who I assumed to be her sister was dancing with another of the Misters Bowen.
Perhaps it would benefit me to learn their names, but for now I was satisfied without that knowledge.
Daniel’s voice lowered slightly. “Have you enjoyed yourself this evening?”
“It has been satisfactory. Dinner was delicious.”
“Yes, I agree. And your table partners?”
“Talkative.”
He laughed, and warmth washed over me. It was a deep, smooth sound and I found I enjoyed hearing it very much.
“One of the Misters Bowen would like to come and hunt in the wood,” I said. “He believes we could use some help stocking the kitchen. And another one mentioned your prime hunters. At least, I am assuming he was speaking about your hunters. Do I own any hunters?”
“No, you do not,” he answered with amusement. “Which of them was it? I would like to know if he has an eye to buy.”
“I could not tell you his name,” I said honestly. “Though he sat beside me at dinner. The one to my left.” The inquisitive one, I almost added.
“Ah, Mr. John Bowen. I shall have to speak to him.”
“Gathering buyers?”
“Not entirely. But I would never refuse the opportunity to discuss horses.”
I smiled, though I did not understand the feeling. I enjoyed riding, of course, but I was not horse mad as so many men were.
I brought the song to a close and rolled my shoulders, pushing out my arms and stretching my fingers. Light clapping reached my ears and I turned to smile, only to be struck by Daniel’s intent gaze fixed on my own. I was aware of my mouth hanging open and I promptly closed it, turning back to the pianoforte when another waltz was requested by Major Heybourne.
I noticed Daniel walk away but I did not watch to see who he approached. I played a few measures more before hazarding a glance and swallowed my disappointment to find his arms wrapped around Mrs. Wheeler. She was lovely, if my short meeting was any indication. I had liked her once she’d turned her own smile on me. I believed I was a sound judge of character, and the one I saw in her countenance was good which made the smile on Daniel’s face squeeze my gut all the more.
I could not fault him for enjoying a waltz with a kind woman. But I could do my best to discover her matrimonial situation.
Not that it mattered, for I was secure in my dusty place on the shelf.
I passed the remainder of the dance with my eyes fixed securely on my fluid fingers. It was a song I played often and knew well. Simpler, perhaps, than these fine people were used to. But it kept the count just the same.
When the song came to completion, I stood to more polite clapping. Curtseying, I crossed the room to sit beside Mrs. Overton.
“Your playing is lovely,” she said.
“That is kind. I am aware my talent is not above average. Still, I enjoy it.”
“Isn’t that the objective of most things?” she asked softly. “To enjoy them?”
Mrs. Bennington tittered. “If that were my guiding rule, I find I would be quite larger than I am at present. It does not do to place the focus of our lives on enjoyment unless we want to become slothful and let idleness lead our lives.”
Clearly Mrs. Bennington had great restraint. I found I did not need to fear idleness so greatly.
“Unless,” I countered, “we find that joy through worthwhile pursuits.”
“No one would continue to find pure enjoyment in serving others if that were all one did with their time.”
“It is healthy to have a balance, naturally,” I agreed, “but I believe we are allowed a certain level of merely joyful pursuits outside of service.”
I had lost her there. Or she was simply uninterested. Mrs. Overton, on the other hand, seemed intrigued. “And how would you spend your time if you were not worried over the things you needed to do and simply created a schedule based off what you wished to do?”
“I would not concern myself with the things that brought me anxiety,” I answered quickly. “I would like to learn the finer art of gardening, and I love to read, play the pianoforte, and knit.”
Mrs. Bennington scoffed. “Fine pursuits, indeed.”
I tried to push away the defensiveness that naturally rose within me.
But Mrs. Overton spoke on my behalf, bringing herself to a stand. “I think they are lovely pursuits. If it would please you, Miss Hurst, I believe I had better be getting home.”
“Of course.” I stood as well, before turning. “Good evening, Mrs. Bennington. A pleasure.”
I located my hosts and led Mrs. Overton to them straight away.
“Thank you for a lovely evening,” I said, careful to direct my smile to Mrs. Heybourne.
“You are quite welcome. We enjoyed your company.”
“Do not be a stranger,” the Major said, the jovial smile I knew well plastered on his face. “We are always around if you find yourself in need. Though I know you’ve got a wonderful steward in Mr. Bryce.”
“And the superb company of Mrs. Overton,” Mrs. Heybourne added, including my companion.
Daniel approached us. He had read our intentions, apparently, for he was prepared to lead us out to the carriage. He thanked our hosts and confirmed a meeting with Major Heybourne to look at horses.
The earlier conversation I held with Mrs. Heybourne played over in my mind as I observed her watching her husband. She had seemed artless on our first meeting. Now I did not know what to think. This woman, perhaps, knew my biggest secret.
I needed to discern if she was an ally or an enemy. And quickly.
Chapter 15
Daniel swept from the study door and down the hall with such haste that I jumped back to avoid a collision.
“Do forgive me,” he said, stepping back.
“What is it?” I asked, my hand on my heart to calm it.
He shook his head. “The goat.”
I awaited more information but none was forthcoming. “Come again, sir?”
Running a hand over his face, he shifted on his feet. Irritation was written upon his features. “I just received word Tomlinson and Halsey are fighting over that blasted goat again.” His eyes caught mine sharply. “Forgive me. That was out of line.”
“Are you going now to address it?”
He nodded.
“Take me with you?”
“I could not. I told you that you could let me handle this. It is my job.”
“And I recall you mentioning that Tomlinson finds me intimidating. Perhaps I could intimidate them into sharing properly.”
A lopsided smile found its way onto his lips and his dimple appeared. I trained my gaze on his eyes instead so as not to be caught staring. “Very well,” he said. “It is worth trying.”
Daniel requested two horses and we pulled ourselves up into their saddles before I followed him toward the tenant farms. The roof of the Tomlinson cottage was looking far better than the last time I’d seen it and a woman sat
in the yard scrubbing cloth in a sudsy bucket.
“Good day, Mrs. Tomlinson,” Daniel called. “Where might I find your husband?”
“Where do you think?” she countered, eyeing me with apprehension. “Arguing over that dratted goat again.”
Daniel tipped his hat to the woman before leading his horse around the house. I smiled at her before following him, and her wary eyes watched me until we were out of sight.
“Should I buy them another goat? Do tell me they are not struggling so hard that a goat might make the difference.”
“She’s a pet,” Daniel answered wryly.
I could not help but giggle. All this over a pet goat? I considered Coco and my cats. If someone tried to steal them from me, I would be upset, too. I supposed it made sense. I watched Daniel comfortably trot along.
“I won’t leave! Try and force me. I’ll be here all day and all night.”
The gruff voice sounded like he meant it. We rounded a corner and came upon two men standing on either side of a livestock pen. A content gray goat stood in the center, lazily chewing on grass.
“You’ve got nothing on me,” the other man said.
“Gentlemen,” Daniel called, forcing the two farmers to quit glaring across the pen and turn to face us. I slid from my horse, shocking Tomlinson and Halsey, and handed the horse’s reins to Daniel.
“Good day,” I said. “I am Miss Hurst. What a lovely goat you have here, gentlemen.”
Tomlinson was the first to recover. He bowed. “Miss Hurst, she is lovely indeed. My little Daisy is a prize.”
“She’ll catch me a prize when the fair comes back through. She does tricks,” Halsey explained, puffing out his ample belly.
Clearly the goat belonged to Tomlinson. If I needed any proof, it was the look of disgust on his rugged features over Halsey’s comment.
A thud behind me called my attention and I turned to watch Daniel tie our horses’ leads to a tree.
“What if we compromise?” I asked. Both men gave me their attention. I felt ridiculous discussing the ownership of a pet goat, but it had to be done. “The fair is not here now, is it?”
Both men shook their heads.
“Then we shall strike a deal. When the time comes to utilize Daisy for her tricks and earn a prize, Mr. Halsey may take her to the fair and try his hand at it. On the condition” —I raised my arm to stem Mr. Tomlinson’s argument— “that you split the proceeds in half, and Mr. Tomlinson takes care of her in the interim.”
Blank faces stared back at me.
“Mr. Tomlinson takes Daisy home now and cares for her until the fair,” I explained. It was an unfair trade when Halsey had stolen the poor man’s goat, but this way they would both get what they were after.
“Ouch.”
I turned to find Daniel coming toward me, his eyebrows pulled together as he inspected the palm of his hand. “I’m not sure how this happened,” he said, showing me his palm.
My stomach began to swirl. Vivid red mixed with pale skin before me, causing bile to climb up my throat. I felt pinpricks in the outer corners of my eyes and stepped forward, grabbing the edge of the pen to hold myself upright.
“Freya, what is it?” Daniel asked, concerned.
“Your hand.”
“‘Tis nothing. Only a scratch.”
I swallowed, watching Daisy happily chew on another bite of grass. Or perhaps it was the same one she’d been chewing before.
“No,” I clarified. “The blood.”
My words brought the image of his hand to my mind again and I quickly discovered that the pen was not sufficient to hold me upright. I managed to say, “I am not fond of blood,” before my eyes closed in and darkness swept me to the ground.
* * *
Something was poking me in the small of my back. Many tiny, sharp needles made their way through my clothing and pricked my skin. My eyelids, heavy and thick, struggled to open against the bright sunlight.
“She’s coming to,” a gruff voice said.
“You might step back then,” another snapped.
“The both of you could cease your arguing altogether,” said a third. This one, I recognized. “Miss Hurst?” he asked. I forced my eyes open and was gratified by the green eyes trained on me.
His smile was apologetic, his eyes downturned in regret. When my eyes opened all the way, I made to sit up.
“Wait,” Daniel said. “You must not rise too quickly.”
“I cannot stay down here,” I countered. “The grass is itchy.”
He covered his surprise quickly and helped me sit. “You never told me of your weakness for…”
I glanced to his hand but it was wrapped in linen. I turned my head away when the swirling in my stomach began.
“Have you sorted the mess with Daisy?”
He smiled at me. “No. But you did. The men are agreeable.”
I could hear their faint arguing from where they waited a few yards away. Agreeable might be something of a stretch, but I understood his meaning. “They’ve agreed to let Mr. Tomlinson care for her?”
Daniel nodded. “Brilliant, really. Halsey doesn’t care about the thing. This way Tomlinson gets his goat back and part of the winnings if, indeed, Halsey wins a prize.” He watched me closely. “Do you think you can ride back?”
“Yes.” I used his arm to pull myself to a stand and landed far closer to him than I intended. My hand rested on his forearm, snug between us, and I caught his intense gaze, his nostrils flaring as though he struggled to breathe through his nose. Earthy tones mixed with shaving soap, and I wanted to lean in further to fill my senses with his scent. His eyes fell to my lips and rested there momentarily.
I stepped back suddenly, releasing his arm and clutching my skirts. “Let us go home.”
* * *
“There is a rumor circling about you,” Daniel said, effectively halting me in my tracks in the center of the drawing room carpet. The tea, however, did not pause as efficiently as I did, and sloshed from the cup I held and splattered over the front of my gown and down on the carpet.
“Good heavens!” he said, jumping from his chair with a napkin in tow. He thrust it at me and I set my teacup on the small side table and mopped up the liquid from my gown as best I could.
“I apologize, heartily.”
“Do not fret.” I tried to sound calm, but a storm of emotions raged within me, none of them relating to tea. I’d had no inclination I was being spoken of to begin with, but a rumor? There was no such thing as a positive rumor. The nature of the thing itself was speaking about others without their knowledge.
It had been a week since the dinner party at Fairlinn Park, and Daniel had not seen anyone since that night, to my knowledge. Had he been keeping this a secret from me for that long?
“Please be seated.” He guided me to the sofa before moving across the room to prepare a fresh cup of tea.
Mrs. Overton had gone for an afternoon nap, her delicate nature still adjusting to the pace at Corden Hall. While there was no particular industry to the house or our way of living, it was significantly larger than her last one, according to Daniel, and she had yet to grow used to the many stairs and expansive rooms.
She would get there eventually, I believed. But the restorative nature of an afternoon rest had become essential in allowing Mrs. Overton to continue later into the evenings.
Because of this, she had excused herself from my restoration project, leaving Daniel and me to fix up the bedrooms with the help of the servants. We had nearly completed the first room and were preparing to move onto the next.
Daniel brought me a fresh cup of tea and I set it on the table, allowing it time to cool. “The rumor?” I inquired. My voice wavered and I hoped he had not caught that detail.
He shook his head dismissively, sitting on the other end of the sofa. “It is nothing, really.”
I waited, hoping to appear patient when in reality I was slowly tensing up. Could he sense that? He watched me closely. Though that could
have been because of the sudden scare he’d caused. I wanted to forget all sense of decorum and beg him to put me from my misery—or bring me closer to the eventuality I tried to prepare myself for.
My white knuckles gripped the edge of the seat cushion and my breathing became shallow. Clearly I had not fully prepared myself for my past to become public knowledge. What was taking him so long?
“Yes?” I said, unable to wait any longer.
“I met with Major Heybourne this morning.”
I would have fainted, I think, if not for the sudden knock at the door. My head whipped around to find Harrison standing in the open doorway.
“The post has come, ma’am.”
He brought me a few letters, one sealed with a familiar crest, and I found myself growing even more desperate despite rational thought. I appreciated Rosalynn’s updates, but she would have to wait for now. I set the missive on my lap and looked at Daniel expectantly, brushing a lock of hair from my face.
“Would you like some privacy to read your letters?”
Of all the ridiculous things. Of course I did not want privacy. I wanted—no, needed to know exactly what rumor had finally made its way to the small community of Linshire. “They can wait a moment.”
“Heybourne heard from his wife that you are to throw a ball. Apparently, it is the talk of the town.”
That was all? I felt air fill my lungs as my shoulders relaxed subtly. “I would be happy to throw a ball.”
He raised an eyebrow in question. Or perhaps it was mere disbelief.
“I love to dance,” I defended. And I would throw a hundred balls if it meant people talked about them instead of my father’s indiscretions. I picked up my tea and took a sip, the warm liquid improving my mood at once.
“I noticed.”
I glanced up sharply. Had he been watching me the night of the Heybournes’ dinner party? There was no other explanation.
“And,” he continued, as if he hadn’t said anything of worthwhile consideration, “if you throw a ball yourself, you could hire musicians and dance every single dance.”
Love For The Spinster (Women 0f Worth Book 2) Page 12