by Vella, Wendy
“I can walk,” she protested. “If you carry me, Lady Jane will see.”
She pushed against his chest, so Ben lowered her feet to the ground.
“And this is a bad thing?”
She nodded. Her wet hair was in a long braid that he guessed had started out on top of her head. It would be beautiful loose, he thought. All those lovely, thick fair waves for him to run his fingers through.
Where the hell had that thought come from?
“V-very bad.”
Ben held an arm around her back until she was steady. The little dog was still clasped to her chest.
“Why?”
She shot him a look that suggested he was a dimwit for not knowing; the effect was ruined slightly by the shivers rocking her body.
“No really, why?” He placed a hand at her spine and started her moving in the hopes that would warm her up a bit.
“You are a wealthy, t-tolerable-looking man. Surely that is enough to say on the matter.”
“Tolerable-looking?” He wasn’t sure why he thought that was an insult, but he did.
“At least it is not a gout-swollen t-toe.”
“Come, you are shivering, we must get back to the others with some haste before you fall ill.”
“I am r-rarely ill. My brother says I have the same constitution as Hilda.”
“Hilda being?”
“F-Farmer Jessop’s prized ox.”
“Charming. Now hustle along. The blankets will have arrived, and Lady Jane will be worried. And just so you know, I don’t think you resemble a gout-swollen toe. I said that for effect,” Ben said gruffly. “If Lady Jane wishes you to marry, then my sisters-in-law wish it for me twice as much.”
She didn’t speak again, and Ben thought it due to the fact her teeth were now chattering, and not that she had nothing further to say on the matter.
“Allow me to take the dog.”
“N-no.”
“No, thank you,” he added.
“I’m c-conserving my strength.”
He snorted but said nothing further. Miss Ainsley, Ben realized, became a far more interesting prospect with every minute he spent in her company. He wondered how many other young women he’d put into the category of simpering debutant or marriage-hunting woman who had deserved more interest from him.
“Ebony!” the little girl cried from her position wrapped in a blanket beside her father.
“W-we shall bring her to you!” Primrose called back.
“Primrose!”
The shriek came from Lady Jane. She was hurrying to where they stood.
“Brace yourself, Miss Ainsley.”
“I-I am d-doomed,” Ben thought she uttered, but couldn’t be sure as her teeth were chattering uncontrollably now.
“You foolish, foolish child!” The scolding began as she reached her. “What were you thinking to take such a risk? And let us not begin on how unsuitable your behavior was… and in front of so many ladies of birth and standing.”
“I’m s-sorry, but the d-dog—”
“Dog!”
Ben winced at the piercing screech.
“Drop that creature at once!”
“I w-will not. He is unwell and n-needs tending.”
“At once, I said!” Lady Jane had a look in her eyes that suggested it would be prudent to do as she asked. It did not bode well for Miss Ainsley, whose lips had turned blue, if she continued to disobey the woman.
“I’ll take it to the little girl.” He stepped in front of her and held out his hands. “I promise I will see it cared for,” he said softly, so only Miss Ainsley could hear.
She was fighting not to cry, and the sight made his stomach clench. He wanted to tell her it would be all right and not to listen to Lady Jane, but he couldn’t, because… well, because she was nothing to him.
Chapter Five
Primrose stayed in bed that afternoon and the following day because Lady Jane had insisted, even though she felt no adverse effects from her impromptu swim. She had not uttered a word in her own defense as Lady Jane had scolded her, using words like propriety and reputation constantly. Who would want to marry a girl who behaved in such a hurly-burly manner? Primrose had apologized several more times, and then finally Lady Jane had finished and left her in peace.
She lay in the bed in blissful peace for an entire day and read. Primrose had been tempted to say she was unwell just so she could stay in there longer, but she did not like to lie, and especially not to the woman who had given her so much.
The following evening, she rose and dressed for dinner.
“Perhaps tonight you will attempt to keep your clothes dry, Primrose.”
“Yes, Lady Jane. It was not my intention to deliberately embarrass you. I just wished to help those people in that carriage, and then the little girl who was so upset over her dog.”
“I know that, dear, it is just you are not aware of how delicate a young lady’s reputation is. One misstep can bring about your ruin, and everyone here will know what you did.”
Dear Lord, here we go again.
“Surely it is not that dire?” Primrose said, hoping it was the case. Her behavior had been well-intended, after all.
“But it is, dear. This is not like your father’s cottage where you can do as you wish.”
How she missed those days.
“You cannot go about digging up roots, and taking clippings just because it appeals. Here you are subject to fierce scrutiny, and as you are already at a disadvantage due to your age and circumstances, you must be more diligent in your behavior.”
It was hard to believe that at the age of twenty-five she was old by society’s standards. The thought was a depressing one.
Primrose busied herself with her reticule, hoping Lady Jane never found the small stash of clippings that were hidden under the bed.
“I understand and promise from this moment forth to behave exactly as I should.”
“Then that is all I can ask of you.”
They made their way downstairs, and the first person she saw upon entering the salon where the other guests had gathered was Benjamin Hetherington.
Botheration. Why, with so many other people present, was he always where she did not want him to be?
His eyes lifted briefly and caught hers. Primrose wasn’t sure why she was suddenly short of breath, but she was. Perhaps she had contracted something from her impromptu swim after all.
“Have you completely recovered, Miss Ainsley?”
“I have, thank you, Lady Ryder.”
The woman stood with her sisters, Mrs. Fletcher and Lady Levermarch. All were fair and beautiful, but it was Lady Levermarch who outshone them all. Primrose had never seen a woman who radiated confidence and beauty like this one. She’d actually seen men stop midsentence to stare at her.
“Your bravery put us all to shame,” Mrs. Fletcher said. “It is normally something Phoebe would do, but you beat her to it.”
“Yes, I was quite put out.”
“Oh, I—”
“I’m not serious, Miss Ainsley,” Lady Levermarch said. “What you did was a wonderful thing, and I admire you for it.”
“Oh, well….” Her words fell away, unsure how to answer that.
“My dear friend raised her children to swim, as their property borders a river,” Lady Jane said, much to Primrose’s surprise.
“Do you have many siblings, Miss Ainsley?” Lady Ryder asked.
“Just a brother.”
“And is he to join you in London?” Mrs. Fletcher asked.
“No, he and my parents are botanists. They are to travel to India soon.”
“India.” Lady Levermarch sighed. “How exciting.”
Not to Primrose. She couldn’t think of anything worse than being on a boat that long and going to a country where no one understood her. She was the Ainsley who did not want adventure. Actually, that was not exactly true. She’d like an adventure, but preferably within the United Kingdom.
“How sad for you to have them go
ne so long. I would miss my family terribly were they to leave me,” Mrs. Fletcher added.
It should be sad, but actually it was a relief. Just like when your slippers pinched and you removed them at the end of a long evening. She’d tried to be like them, but every time it had been a disaster and Primrose usually just ended up being in the way, so she’d given up trying to please her family, and now tried to please other people who were usually more grateful.
“Phoebe was an absolute nightmare as a child,” Lady Ryder said. “Always in trouble, and then as she grew there was her face, which was always a problem.”
“Face?” Primrose looked at the beautiful Lady Levermarch, who was now rolling her eyes at her sister. She could see nothing but beauty in the woman.
“She is tolerably good-looking, and thus we had admirers calling constantly. Some sent her poetry that was really quite hideous. Poor besotted fools, all of them.”
“They’re jealous,” Lady Levermarch said to Primrose. “I received all the looks in my family, as you can see. My sisters are really quite plain, wouldn’t you say, Miss Ainsley?”
Primrose giggled, and then pressed a hand to her mouth, horrified that she’d been wrong to do so. Shooting Lady Jane a look, she was pleased to see her in conversation with the Dowager Duchess of Yardly, one of the elder guests here at Rossetter House.
“I do beg your pardon, that was rude of me.”
“It’s quite all right, Miss Ainsley. I assure you, we laugh at her all the time,” Mrs. Fletcher said.
“I’m sure neither of you have reason to be jealous of your sister,” Primrose said. “After all, you are both beautiful also.”
“Thank you, Miss Ainsley, but let us assure you that neither Bella nor I have any wish to look as Phoebe does. It is more a trial than anything.”
Lady Levermarch sighed. “’Tis the truth... but no longer, as I now have a husband who sees to my every wish and scares off any man who looks at me.”
“Is that what I do?”
The smile that passed between Lord and Lady Levermarch was filled with love. Primrose in all honesty had never wanted a man to look at her that way. That much emotion was surely a messy, complicated experience. Herbert certainly had never looked at her that way. Love was not in her future, as it had never been in her past.
“And now we are to go through to dinner, so let us proceed,” Lord Levermarch said, holding out his arm for his wife to take.
They followed in an orderly manner, and when she reached her seat Primrose was horrified to find Mr. Benjamin Hetherington to her right.
“Good evening, Miss Ainsley.” He motioned Primrose into her chair. “Lovely weather we had today. I hope you were able to see some of it from your room.”
“Qu-quite lovely.”
Looking left, she found Lord Levermarch. What was she doing seated so high up the table? Searching for Lady Jane, she found her closer to the duke.
“Is there a problem, Miss Ainsley?”
“Ah, well, I think perhaps I should be down there.”
Mr. Hetherington followed her finger as it pointed to the bottom of the table.
“No, I think you are meant to be here.”
“B-but—”
“Sit if you please, because when everyone has we will receive food, and I for one am famished.”
Primrose sat. She then fussed with her glass, her skirts, and then when she had nothing else to fuss with, she looked straight ahead. The Dowager Duchess of Yardly was seated across from her. She forced a smile onto her face, and the elderly matron replied with something that resembled a snarl. The woman was one of the scarier members of society, and one Primrose kept her distance from.
“You have a book of mine, Benjamin Hetherington!” The Dowager Duchess banged her fist down on the tabletop to ensure she had everyone’s attention. The cutlery and glassware jumped.
“Surely not,” the man to her right drawled. “In fact, if memory serves it is you that have a book of mine… and one of Alex’s, for that matter. So don’t try your games with me, madam.”
Primrose actually inhaled, making her gasp sound more like a wheeze. She shot Benjamin Hetherington a horrified look. He was smiling.
“Don’t provoke her,” Primrose whispered.
His smile grew.
The dowager harrumphed.
“What, no reply? Surely you can do better than a harrumph,” he drawled.
The elderly woman’s eyebrows drew into a fierce line. Her mouth puckered into a tight little circle, making all the wrinkles push up against each other.
“I expect to see you in the library tomorrow. I wish for you to explain about these steam engines. That book was hard to understand!”
“Very well, and I will break it down into simple language so it is not too taxing on your elderly brain.”
“Dear Lord,” Primrose whimpered, waiting for the explosion that would surely come after these words. Instead she heard a raspy sound. Looking at the dowager, she wasn’t sure if her heart was giving out or she was laughing.
“She’s laughing, Miss Ainsley, relax.”
“It doesn’t sound like a laugh. Are you sure?”
“Yes. I know the Dowager Duchess of Yardly very well. That is a laugh.”
“You, girl!”
Shock held Primrose rigid when she realized the woman was now speaking to her.
“Don’t pick on her,” Benjamin Hetherington said.
“I’m not, you young whelp. I was going to commend her on her bravery for plunging into the water to save that dog!”
“Oh well… thank you,” Primrose said, unsure how to address the woman.
“Duchess,” Benjamin whispered.
“But I am her inferior, so perhaps it should be your Grace?”
“Duchess will do.”
As the woman concerned was now having a robust discussion with Alexander Hetherington across two guests, Primrose was sure she couldn’t overhear their murmured conversation.
“You are no one’s inferior, Miss Ainsley.”
The words were spoken quietly, and they made her feel warm to her toes.
“I fear that is not true, but thank you for the sentiment, Mr. Hetherington.”
“Rank and title do not maketh a man… or woman, as this case may be.”
“The world we live in does not work that way.”
“Well, it should,” he said in that same soft, serious tone.
Primrose said nothing further, instead leaning to one side to allow the first course to be placed before her.
The soup came first, and thankful to have something to do, she took a mouthful, and tried not to make any slurping sounds. Everything on the table seemed to sparkle, from the crystal glasses to the silverware. It was a setting fit for royalty, and one she’d never believed herself capable of being part of.
“You swim very well, Miss Ainsley.”
She swallowed and managed not to choke. Primrose didn’t know what to say to that, so she ignored him and talked to his brother, who sat to her left.
“The soup is very nice, don’t you think, Lord Levermarch?”
The surprise on his face was quickly masked. Beside her, Benjamin Hetherington chuckled softly.
“Ah… quite, but as yet I have only had one mouthful, Miss Ainsley.”
“You will find it tastes wonderful,” Primrose said, sounding like a complete simpleton.
“I’m sure I shall.”
He gave her a gentle smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and his usually serious face appear softer. Of course, he only had to look at the beautiful woman seated across from him to do that.
Primrose took another mouthful and swallowed, allowing her eyes to circle the room. Servants stood dressed in livery, blending into the walls, seen but never heard. Everywhere there were signs of wealth and ducal opulence. Not that the duke and duchess flaunted that; in fact, quite the opposite. They were kind people with easy manners.
“Did you get the pond weeds out of your dress?”
She couldn’t ignore him through the entire meal, or someone would notice… namely Lady Jane, who was always watching Primrose to ensure she behaved.
“There were no pond weeds in the river, Mr. Hetherington.”
“I did not mean the river, I meant the pond… which you swam in earlier.”
“Are you mocking me?”
“Certainly not.” His eyes twinkled.
“I took evasive measures to remove myself from a situation that was not a comfortable one. I wish to discuss it no further, thank you.” Cool and calm, she’d said what needed to be said, and he would leave her alone now.
“You were not comfortable as I had compared you to a gout-swollen toe, which was unpardonably rude, but I hardly see that throwing yourself in the water fully clothed was the action of a sane mind. I am not such a terrifying man, surely?”
Primrose looked down at her soup and moved the spoon from side to side. She didn’t really like turtle soup, contrary to what she’d said to Lord Levermarch.
“I am quite sound of mind, I assure you. The thing is, Mr. Hetherington, I can be a trifle impetuous. Once an idea takes root, I’m afraid I do not deliberate over it for long, and am likely to act, especially if I wish to leave the company of someone.”
“Not a comfortable trait to have, I’m sure, and I have apologized for being rude.”
She shot him a look. His eyes were on her, intent and searching. He was a handsome man, she could not say otherwise, and someone who she knew, just from brief observation, was popular… unlike her.
Looking to where Lady Jane sat, she saw a look in her eyes that was unsettling. The smile she bestowed on Primrose was a knowing one.
“Mr. Hetherington.”
“Miss Ainsley.” He bent his head slightly to listen to her
“Mr. Hetherington….”
“Miss Ainsley.”
“The thing is, Mr. Hetherington.”
“You have used my name three times in a short space of time, Miss Ainsley. Is there any chance you could get to the point before you make it four?”
“I am attempting to explain something to you,” Primrose said.
“I am quite intelligent. If you keep the words simple, I shall probably grasp them.”
She glared at him. “My brother does that, and I dislike it.”