Her curiosity piqued, and her interest engaged, she walked faster. “Oh? I’ve walked the garden many times. Is it the lavender color, I wonder?”
He chuckled. “No, but I see I was correct in my prediction of your interest.” He looked off over the hills around them. “I thought you might enjoy a specimen in your own garden.”
They arrived, and he led her down the paths past the fountain to the back corner where a lovely rose, orange in color, had just opened.
“Oh. It’s beautiful.” She turned to thank him and held his gaze. His expression, so earnest, searched her own. She allowed a bit of her hope to return.
“I’ve made you smile.” He lifted his chin and nodded in satisfaction.
“Has it become a challenge for you? To make me smile?”
“Of sorts, yes. I hope you will permit me.”
What was this new wonder? “I’d like that.” She watched him, not daring to look away and miss his endearing expression.
Then Edward approached, and the air felt cool. “There you are.” The frown lines about his eyes obvious from the head of the garden where he stood.
He joined them. “Are we to be taking a stroll or sitting here among the roses?”
Tabitha groaned. “Edward, what are you doing?”
“Yes, Edward, what are you doing?”
“I am serving as escort and chaperone.”
Tabitha’s face flamed even hotter. Would their new tentative standing become too awkward? Would Henry find it too trying?
She stepped closer to Henry. “We are going for a walk. If you wish, you could sit on a bench, perhaps?”
Her heart pinched when she saw a flash of hurt cross Edward’s face.
Henry turned to her. “It’s all right, Tabby Cat. Edward can join us. Perhaps we can talk him into this very variety of rose for your garden at home.”
Her heart warmed toward Henry anew. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind her brother's behavior as much as she feared.
Edward walked at Henry’s side, and the two talked of issues on the estate and their tenants and neighbors. Was she once again relegated to the role of little sister?
Then Tauney came forward out of breath. “Edward. The countess is requesting your presence. I can continue here.”
Edward adjusted his waistcoat in a sense of self-importance. “Very well. Thank you, Tauney.” He nodded to Henry and then hurried out of the gardens.
Henry shook his head, chuckling. Then Tauney said, “I’ll leave you two, then. I’ll be at the head of the garden and will come running if I catch wind of his return.”
“What?” Tabitha could not believe it.
“Shall we sit?” Henry’s boyish grin warmed her.
“Yes, there is a marvelous fountain, just wait until you see!” She rushed closer to the center of the garden, tugging on his arm.
Henry hurried closer and let her hand slide down his arm so that he could encase her small palm in his own.
She thrilled at his touch, so new, while at the same time, so familiar. They approached a fountain that towered over them both, a gentle mist landing all about them as the water cascaded and splashed down upon nymphs and fairies.
They sat on a nearby bench. The sound of falling water soothed her, and the smells of the roses infused her with courage.
She reached for his hand and held it in her lap.
His eyes widened; then he moved closer. His gaze traveled over her face. “How could I have been so blind? All these years.”
She swallowed, unsure what to say. She had the same question.
“Last night during games, they talked of a night of poetry recitations. We are supposed to pick partners. And I was hoping—”
Tauney came running back in and stood near, as if he had always been present. Tabitha suppressed a giggle.
“I was hoping you’d be my partner?”
She nodded. “Of course. Though I don’t know how much use I’ll be in the actual performance.”
Henry eyed the garden entrance, and she followed his gaze. Edward and Tauney were talking in hushed but intense voices.
“I want to spend time with you. Even if we never perform the thing, this way we can be together.” He stood and lifted her hand to bring her up beside him. Then he leaned forward, his mouth at her ear.
Soft breath tickled her neck and his lips brushed her ear as he said, “Until next we can have a moment.”
11
Poetry and a Kiss, Perhaps?
Henry inquired after Tabitha and found her in the library. A small package filled his jacket pocket.
Her face brightened when he entered the room. “Henry!” She approached him, both hands reaching for his own.
He clasped them with a gentle squeeze. “How are you, Tabby? Finding lovely novels?”
“At the moment, no. I was looking for a poem we could recite.”
He remembered their partnering for poetry recitations, further brightening his prospects with her. “Capital. What have you found?”
She reached for two volumes. “Well, there is this book of the works of Tennyson, or there’s Byron.” She winced a little at the mention of his name, which he found amusing.
“Let’s have a read, shall we?”
They moved to a small settee under the window. Warm sun shone in beams onto its fabric and heated his back as he sat. He moved as close to her as he dared. “I have something for you. A gift.” He pulled the wrapped parcel from his pocket.
Her eyes widened in delight. “Henry! What is it?”
“Well,” he grinned. “You’ll have to open it to find out.”
The door banged all the way open, and Julian entered, with Edward fast on his heels. “What’s this?” Identical frowns lined their faces.
Tabitha slipped the parcel behind a cushion.
Henry held up Tennyson. “We are choosing our poem.”
“Excuse me?” Julian’s eyebrows rose in disbelief.
A small sigh escaped Tabitha’s lips. “Yes, brothers. We have been partnered for the poetry recitation.” Her lips made a large and overly innocent expression.
Henry wondered how often he had been beguiled by it, unawares.
She pointed at Julian. “Who will you be partnering with?”
Henry added, “Felling’s friends are still here, Ladies Walter and Summers. They will be looking for companions, I am certain.”
Julian stood taller. “Are they? Perhaps I shall make use of that opportunity.” He winked.
Edward cleared his throat. “I am surprised to see you both in here, alone.”
Tabitha raised a hand, palm up. “We are hardly alone,” she said, her tone placating, “with people coming in and out, as they so often do.”
“And the door”—Henry frowned—“being left wide open.”
Edward eyed them both until Tabitha squirmed on the couch and Henry wanted to pummel him.
“As things are, I believe I shall spend some time reading.”
Julian turned to leave. “I think I shall find Lady Summers, then, if you have things taken care of here.”
Edward nodded and walked toward the bookshelf to their right, on the pretense of searching out a good book.
Tabitha opened the anthology of Byron’s poems. He enjoyed her nearness, their hands brushing as they took turns turning pages.
Henry leaned back, eyeing the back of Edward’s head. “I shall recite this one.”
Her eyes widened and she swallowed, turning bright pink. “Are you sure you should? It’s Byron.”
He waited until he had her full attention. “I’m certain.” He had much of it memorized, so he stared into her eyes and recited slowly.
She walks in beauty, like the night…
Tabitha didn’t look away.
Such a light of hope lingered in her blue depths that he continued, a bit recklessly, even with Edward’s presence in the room. Her eyes shone, her curled lashes framing them perfectly. He wanted to forever hold her regard in such a way that her eyes would shine u
p at him, just as they were in that moment.
Edward turned the corner of one row of shelves, and Henry paused. As soon as their chaperone turned his back again, Henry continued,
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
He ran his finger along her forehead and down her cheek.
He continued to read. She leaned toward him, the yearning in her face obvious to him. He could have kicked himself for his years of blindness. He would repair the foibles of his bumbling youth and give her joy now. With Edward stooped over a thick tome, Henry recited more.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win,…
His hand cupped her cheek, and he ran a thumb lightly over her mouth.
His gaze lingered on her lips. He studied every gentle crease and dip in their plush and soft form. The curve at the top of her mouth. His breathing came faster, his heart reminding him of her effect on him. With great effort, he pulled his eyes away and continued.
…the tints that glow,
He reached forward and pulled at a curl against her cheek. She closed her eyes at his touch.
Edward cleared his throat.
Henry had forgotten his presence. He swallowed.
Tabitha’s eyes flashed in annoyance, scowling at her brother. She carried such a burst of fire in her, Henry had to chuckle.
“But the best part is coming.” He created some distance between them. He wanted to express what he valued most in her.
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
Edward grunted. “And you will read that? To the group?”
Henry felt a moment’s unease. Turning to Tabitha, he asked, “Did you not like it?”
Edward chuckled.
But Tabitha placed a hand on his arm and winked. “I have found another of great interest. Shall I read it?” She tilted her page so that Henry could see. “The First Kiss of Love,” by Lord Byron. He bit back his shocked reply and looked at her with renewed respect. She could be quite bold apparently. He would not be surprised by anything she did any longer. Glancing at Edward and back to her, he nodded. “If you wish. Perhaps we can perform them both?” He bit his cheek to stem the laughter, already enjoying Edward’s predicted reaction.
Tabitha stood and cleared her throat. She held out her arm.
Away with your fictions of flimsy romance,
She waved her hand as if to brush them aside.
Those tissues of falsehood which Folly has wove;
Give me the mild beam of the soul-breathing glance,
Or the rapture…
She dropped to the ground on her knees and held a hand against her chest.
…which dwells on the first kiss of love.
Henry was equal parts enraptured and amused.
“I must disagree most firmly with your choice, Tabitha.” Edward stepped forward, ready to take the book from her grasp.
She stood again, holding the book away from him. “Oh, come now, Edward. You haven’t even heard the whole of it.” Her eyebrow rose, a moment of impasse between the two siblings filled the silence with unspoken energy. For the first time, Henry recognized that between the two, Tabitha might be the most difficult to cross.
A throat cleared, and the countess and several of the other guests entered the room. “Are we having an early recitation? I’m so pleased to hear it. Do continue.” The countess’ skirts moved around her ankles as she entered the room and sat in the chair nearest Tabitha. She continued the next line herself.
If Apollo should e’er his assistance refuse,
Or the Nine be dispos'd from your service to rove,
Invoke them no more, bid adieu to the muse,
And try the effect, of the first kiss of love.”
Henry wasn’t sure what the others would think of such a recitation. Out of the corner of his eye, ladies fanned themselves. Some sighed. He avoided looking in the countess’ direction.
After a moment’s hesitation, Edward paced, and his irritation seemed to spur Tabitha on.
One of the younger debutantes moved forward and linked her arm with Edward's, distracting him. Henry nearly choked when Edward smiled at her and walked with her a few feet away, engaged in conversation.
Tabitha's voice was honey to Henry’s ears, as she continued.
I court the effusions that spring from the heart,
She clutched at her heart. “Which throbs, with delight, to the first kiss of love.
Henry felt his face heat, but he watched her in growing fascination.
Your shepherds, your flocks, those fantastical themes,
Perhaps may amuse, yet they never can move:
What woman was this? So caring and dear to him, impassioned and sincere.
She extended her hand and gently pulled him to his feet. Then stood as close as she could before she repeated.
“The first”—she paused and lifted her face to him—“kiss of love.”
Her wide eyes blinked. Her lips, soft, spoke of his dearest desire. The sincerity in her expression became his undoing. He put his arm around her back, all the while searching her face. Her eyes darkened; they filled with desire. His own ignited. He tilted his head, his lips yearning for the softness of her own. When he was close enough to feel her breath on his mouth, Edward coughed. “Surely not, Henry.”
*She Walks in Beauty—Lord Byron 1814
*The First Kiss of Love—Lord Byron 1806
12
Daring Declarations and Deceptions
Henry reached for Tabitha’s hand as they ran through the back gardens of Somerstone, his breathing short, his heart racing at the exertion.
Henry’s warm, protective care for Tabitha grew as her small fingers squeezed his own. Her smile of exhilaration spurred him on. At length, they arrived in the maze, slowing their steps and nodding to her maid, who followed at a respectable pace.
Tabitha’s face was pink as she looked all about her. “I haven’t been in here since our last visit to Somerstone.”
He admired the brightness of her eyes. “I haven’t ever been here. You’ll have to keep us from getting lost.”
Their eyes met. And she raised her eyebrows, challenging. “Although, getting lost sounds lovely.”
He laughed. “Exactly my thoughts.” He placed her hand on his arm. “Though we don’t want to be sending Edward after his smelling salts.”
She shook her head. “Dear Edward.”
“I feel for the chap. He is my best friend, after all.”
But neither of them felt enough sympathy to actually respect his wishes, it seemed and so they continued.
A familiar smell wafted on the small breeze that ruffled his hair and tickled his nose. Breathing deeply, he said, “You smell lovely. You’re wearing your new rose water.”
She met his eyes. “Thank you for the gift, though I don’t know if you should have. I love it. I’ve already plagued Edward to purchase that particular variety of rose for my garden.”
“And perhaps I should acquire some for mine?” He watched her carefully.
She faltered and then continued, her quiet voice thrilling him, “Perhaps you should.” She didn’t look at him, but the pink of her cheeks told him she’d guessed his meaning.
Exultant, he forced himself to walk at a slow pace and behave in a calm manner. “Are you looking forward to the ball?”
She met his eyes then, full of excitement. “I am.” She looked down. “Though I will be sorry for parts of this party to end.”
“I hope that the good parts will only continue, and be even better, once we are home.” He rested his hand on hers, and she pressed her fingers into his arm, subtly, in response.
They continued walking down one hedgerow to the next, turning so many corners Henry lost count. “I do hope you are paying attention? To where we are going?”
She stopped and her face went white. “
I wasn’t!” They stared at each other for a moment and then burst into laughter. She looked over her shoulder to where her maid followed at a polite distance. “Perhaps Joanna knows.”
He shrugged. “For now, I wish to pretend we are irrevocably lost.”
They followed a stream until it emptied into a pond in another courtyard between the hedges.
“Let’s sit?” Henry indicated the bench on the far side, flowering vines cascading all around.
Joanna moved to stand a good distance away but within sight.
Tabitha twisted her mouth, and he could tell she chewed the inside of her cheek.
He grinned, remembering her governess’ frustration about the habit. But he knew something must be troubling her, and he set about immediately to bring a smile.
“Our poetry reading?” He nodded his head in her direction. “Who knew you were so proficient!”
She colored nicely, as he knew she would. “I am so very proper and careful all the time. Edward has little to worry about. So I thought to give him a sampling of what he could be faced with.” She shrugged “Were I a true harridan.”
“I enjoyed it myself, I assure you. Perhaps you should display the harridan inside more often.” He laughed when she looked away. “Oh don’t be embarrassed. It was wonderful. And the look on his face!”
Henry studied her. “But you do seem troubled.”
She looked at her hands.
“You may confide in me. I’m still Henry, you know, the guy with the overly large feet and unappealing nose.”
“What? Your nose is beautiful!” Then she gasped and placed a hand over her mouth.
He leaned back on his hands, inwardly thrilled at her comment. “So, Tabby, how can I help?”
She mirrored his posture, looking at him out of the side of her eye. “These meetings, our poetry, the waltz—you are so different.” She turned to him.
He kept his face neutral, facing the hedge to their front. “And you don’t know what to make of it?”
“Well, exactly. What is this, Henry?” Her voice had gone quiet, barely audible over the trickling of the stream.
He stood, reached for her hand, and pulled her up until she stood before him. He didn’t want her to have any doubts as to his sincerity.
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