Taking the deck with him, he walked out of the room on nearly soundless footsteps. Augusta only smiled back when he had gone, as she reflected that Lord Ainsworth was, by and large, an unobtrusive man. He was almost silent when he walked, and his voice was soft, if decided and grave. She wanted to ask him if he had disliked receiving too much attention before he returned from Salamanca, because it seemed as though he would prefer to keep to his own devices by nature, and not just because of the dramatic changes he had endured.
It is a shame that the one thing that became so marred was his face, not because he is now ugly… but because faces are simply so visible.
If he hid it, he would draw even more stares because every solitary person would wonder what he had to hide. It was a strange conundrum, she decided.
Long after he left, she was musing on the shift that had overtaken the lord of the manor this evening. Without Lady Jane’s explanations of his history and character, she would not have necessarily believed Lord Ainsworth was capable of polite conversation, gentle manners and a smile or two… or several. All of which he had displayed quite easily, though unconsciously, tonight.
Augusta snorted to herself.
It seemed that if he put his mind to it, he could still be as engaging as the best of them. She could imagine him at a ball charming just about any lady in attendance. Not that she had much to go by in regards to that topic. It wasn’t even really in spite of his face. When he relaxed and seemed to think he had more control within a situation, or comfort, she thought, he was exceedingly pleasant.
She had definitely been charmed by him tonight. In fact, she believed that if he simply let his guard down enough, nearly anybody would be so engaged with him as a companion that they would forget or see past the evident violence he had suffered.
Surely, it wouldn’t be so difficult for him to capture a woman’s attentions.
The thought made the slight smile drop from her face.
Why are you uncomfortable? You’ve no right to be, Gussie.
Augusta shoved aside the visions of Lord Ainsworth with a strange, beautiful woman who was kind to him and thought instead about what she was going to do once he made her leave his home.
*
Lady Jane arrived the following morning full of raptures about the splendor of the ball at Riverdale.
Insisting that Augusta be helped out of the parlor to attend to her in the drawing room, she regaled her nephew and guest with all the latest gossip.
“You should have seen Lord Pickerton. He was well into the punch, I tell you,” she said to Lord Ainsworth, who smiled tolerantly at her chuckling. “He simply swanned about and told everyone that he was party to the military’s deepest secrets. A spymaster, I believe he kept saying.”
With delight, she also recounted all of the ladies’ latest fashions until Augusta admitted, with a blush, that she had no idea what Lady Jane was really describing. She could appreciate the descriptions of the dresses, but only in the abstract.
It was just as well, for Lady Jane seemed to want to broach another topic of conversation.
Her excitement increased considerably when she expressed the ton’s interest in Lord Ainsworth.
“You must remember the Duke of Templeton and his delightful wife, Lady Eliza. They were good friends of your mother’s. They were most concerned about your welfare and mentioned several times that their daughter, Lady Evelyn, still remembers you fondly.”
“Lady Evelyn,” said Lord Ainsworth, “was so talkative that sometimes I lost the thread of her words and imagined myself elsewhere to pass the time. It was not polite of me, but she could have kept talking to a snail and never noticed the difference between it and me as a partner in conversation.”
Lady Jane struck him very gently on the shoulder. “Awful man. You know… Lady Eliza said that Evie was quite jealous of Lady Diana when the news broke of your engagement.”
Augusta tried not to scowl at the mention of either Lady Diana, or of this Lady Evelyn being jealous of her engagement to Lord Ainsworth.
He made no reply to this and glanced at Augusta with the slightest of eye-rolls. Unable to help it, she hid a smile with a cough. Lady Jane appeared not to notice the quick, wordless exchange, for she kept nattering on without much of a pause.
“Oh, how I wish you had been there, William. Lord Acton has come into his inheritance and is now the Earl of Rosingdale. He is to be married in December and sent a card for you. I believe it ought to be in my reticule.”
“Vincent… Lord Acton… has scarcely been in contact with me since my return. He cannot be so interested in how I have fared.”
“You have not generally encouraged interest, have you? Not even that of your friends.” Lady Jane was rummaging in her reticule and missed Lord Ainsworth’s scowl.
“Still, of everyone I knew as a boy, he has been the only one who has not attempted to come here.”
“Most likely because he recalls how stubborn you can be. He expressly mentioned, I feel in the hopes that I would repeat it to you, that he has been silent long enough. He only meant to respect your situation by keeping quiet,” said Lady Jane. She sipped a small glass of sherry and looked over at Lord Ainsworth from her position in an old, red wingback chair that made her narrow frame look tiny. “He declared that he would consider it an insult upon your years of friendship should you fail to grace his wedding with your presence. You shall have to go.”
“Perhaps Lord Acton will let me sit in an alcove.”
Augusta could find nothing to contribute to the conversation, so she held her tongue, contenting herself with observing the duke’s reactions to Lady Jane’s chatter. He appeared to be interested whenever she mentioned someone he knew, or had known. But like a child who was afraid to be denied a favorite sweet if he asked for it, he kept his silence.
His eyes would light up at the mention of a familiar name, then the light would die a moment later. It was a piteous thing to see, and she felt that he was keeping himself unduly in check out of anxiety.
However, she herself was surprised when her pity moved her to interject. Like a woman possessed, she blurted, “You should invite all of the duke’s friends for your birthday, my lady. I am certain they would be delighted to come.”
Absolute silence followed her innocent suggestion.
Now you’ve done it.
Her eyes went to the painting of a hunt over the fireplace and she assiduously stared at the slender hounds in its right hand corner. But she could feel two pairs of eyes on her.
One, she imagined, was pleased, or about to be.
The other, she was sure, was horrified at the thought of a socially-sanctioned invasion of the manor.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could barely see that both aunt and nephew were gawking at her as though she had just suggested that they take a stroll in the village square while fully nude.
When Augusta finally looked at her properly, a slow smile crossed Lady Jane’s face. She nodded while bringing her hands together in anticipatory pleasure, upsetting the reticule and gloves from her lap, which fell to the plush rug under the furniture and their feet.
“No… you won’t!” protested Lord Ainsworth. He could see that his aunt was ready to plan such a situation, even if he detested it.
“William, it is an elegant solution. They want to see you, and if they come ostensibly for me, perhaps that will lessen the pressure on you. You feel safe here, as well.”
“Aunt Jane, I must insist that you do not invite them,” he said, standing.
“It is my ball, is it not?”
“If it is held on my grounds, I would prefer having some oversight in regards to the guests. If you feel I should not have that… you may hold it elsewhere.”
Lady Jane was indignant at the implications of his words. “You would rather I leave? On my birthday?”
“I have said nothing of the kind,” said Lord Ainsworth after a long, tired pause. “All I am saying is that I want none of the people I know, or us
ed to know, at the party.”
He did not shout the words, but he may as well have for the weighted impact they had. With a heated glare at both of the women in the drawing room, he took his leave without excusing himself. Augusta stared at his retreating form until she could no longer see it in the corridor.
Lady Jane watched him sadly. When he was no longer within hearing distance, she murmured, “I am going to do it, anyway. He may do as he sees fit on the day, whether that is taking part in the festivities or hiding away, but I shall risk his displeasure. Miss Brooke, everyone was so kind in asking after him. There was no morbidity that I could detect.”
“He will not believe that until he experiences it,” said Augusta.
“I agree. But the problem is getting him to see anyone at all… which you understand, even having been here for less than a month.”
“I feel that he is ashamed, although for what, I cannot imagine.”
“It is not vanity on his part,” said Lady Jane. She finished her sherry. “I’ve conjectured that he doesn’t want to cause anyone discomfort at the sight of him. And as we’ve discussed, he is simply, or not-so-simply, afraid of rejection.” She studied the lake-blue and tawny woven patterns of the rug, then picked up her reticule. Augusta, in turn, watched the sadness that played across her lovely face as she considered what to do next about the ball and its potential guests.
Augusta wished that she could explain to the duke how much it meant that he had someone like his aunt, someone who was—despite his own pointed obstinacy—invested in his betterment. His emotional and mental wellness.
He clearly felt alone, and that was the end of it. The very root of his issues. Augusta wanted to tell him that he was not, but it was not her place.
Chapter Six
Lord Ainsworth’s manor possessed the most beautiful grounds that Augusta had ever seen, much less walked. The gardens were charming, and everything around the house had such an air of tranquility and grandeur that she was enthralled.
There had only been a few times that she’d experienced anything remotely like this, but nothing that she had beheld matched what she saw spreading before her. It wasn’t just that the estate was enormous, though it was. It was simply that all of it seemed so well considered and executed that she could hardly understand how everything was maintained. There seemed to be a small legion of gardeners and groundskeepers who largely paid her and Lady Jane little mind while they were on their strolls.
When Augusta’s mother had been a maid who worked largely in the scullery, she had taken Augusta to her employers’ homes a few times out of necessity when she was still very young and could not be left on her own. Depending on the employer, she was either met with scorn or delight. Whether her presence was embraced or not, Augusta was always set small tasks to prove that she, like her mama, was willing to work and be made useful. Thinking, Augusta came to the realization that those houses had belonged to people who gained their substantial incomes from trade or agriculture.
While they had certainly been rich by her standards, they would not have been considered so by Lord Ainsworth and his ilk.
None of their homes could hold a candle to any of this, she thought.
She had never imagined anything quite like it. The gravel walk was smooth and long, winding gently along the front and back of the manor, and the gardens were maintained to give the illusion of wildness with none of the unfortunate weeds.
Meanwhile, the manor itself sat regally as though it watched over all in its sight. Even her untrained eye could tell that it had been added to and changed over the years, but the front facade was, if a building could be called such, stately and serious.
While they walked for a fourth time, Lady Jane let her keep her thoughts to herself. Augusta was glad, for she did not want to confess that even though it was the start of her third week here and she knew she should be considering moving on, she did not want to in the slightest.
The duke kept her here as much as anything else.
True to her word, Lady Jane had hastened Augusta to the gardens as soon as her guest could walk sedately without a wince of pain. Lord Ainsworth had given his leave that this was acceptable, but he also said that under no circumstances was his patient to overexert herself. Augusta smirked as she thought of his words, which had been addressed more to the capricious Lady Jane than to her. She was enjoying the lack of pain too much to tempt fate and court a repeated injury, so she was far more sedate than the sprightly lady.
“Miss Brooke, why do you smile so?”
Lady Jane studied her under the dappled sunlight.
“Oh, I was just…” Do not say you were thinking of the duke. “I have never been somewhere so beautiful.”
“My, it is good, isn’t it?” said Lady Jane. She looked as though she were unconvinced by Augusta’s words but, by now, Augusta knew she was too polite to question her further. “You have not seen my favorite part of the gardens, yet. My brother was an avid aficionado of botany. We have him to thank for the grounds as they are now. William is less interested, but out of respect for his father’s passions, he does an admirable job keeping everything as it was.”
Augusta had not yet decided how she felt about Lady Jane’s more casual use of William to refer to Lord Ainsworth. She knew they were relations, just as she knew they were immensely fond of each other. But for his Christian name to be used so often in front of her, still a stranger, and a commoner to boot… it was somewhat unsettling to her sense of decorum.
“He does not enjoy gardening?”
“He does not not like it,” said Lady Jane. “But he never took to it, either.”
Augusta nodded. She wanted to tell Lady Jane that when she was a child, her parents had never had a patch of land on which to grow anything so useless as roses or hedges, and all of this was nearly overwhelming, but she abstained. It had probably been just as true that her father was not responsible enough to maintain anything of the sort. He barely could, now, and she expected the small farm he now said was “his”, despite taking neither pride nor pleasure in its upkeep, would wither before winter. “It’s fortunate that he has kept the grounds so well, then.”
“He would never undo what another Ainsworth has done, if it was done out of love.” Curious, Augusta opened her mouth to ask what she meant, but then Lady Jane exclaimed, “Oh, here, we are almost to my favorite part!”
As though they were bosom friends, Lady Jane took the crook of her arm. They walked on through the gardens, which was a myriad of lush colors this time of year. Lady Jane steered their course, mindful of the limitations of Augusta’s ankle, but obviously very pleased to show her this next sight.
They started up a small hill, which brought only a minute twinge of pain to Augusta. At its crest, there was a small structure covered in climbing ivy and some kind of small, dusky purple flowers. It looked different from anything Augusta had ever seen.
Like a shrine, perhaps? There were a number of steps up to it, and the view from the top must have been incredible. It’s just a gazebo, she concluded. Though it did, in fact, look more majestic than any ordinary one. “It doesn’t seem like anything bad could reach you up there.”
They paused to survey the gazebo in the afternoon sun.
“I often come here to read or just sit and take in the views.”
“It’s beautiful,” said Augusta, shading her eyes and gazing at the structure.
“Mm. I am glad you think so.” Nodding, Lady Jane said, “You may go up, if you wish.” She released Augusta’s arm. “I won’t tell William if you don’t. I’m sure he’d go mad at the number of steps.”
Augusta noted that there were a great many steps that punctuated the hillside until they entered the gazebo. “Was the hill made for the gardens, or was it already here?”
“Do you know…” Lady Jane gave it a moment of consideration. “I believe it was constructed for this very purpose. It doesn’t look fully natural, at any rate. Perhaps it was augmented. Do you think you can m
ake it up, yourself? There is barely room for two on the steps, and I fear I shall cause you to trip and fall if you haven’t enough space.”
“I’ll try,” said Augusta after a breath. It is too lovely not to. Feeling like a child given her first plaything, she eagerly advanced toward the structure and mounted the stairs carefully.
“Lady Jane, are you sure you do not wish to join me?” Augusta said over her shoulder to Lady Jane, who lingered below, watching her.
“No, I shall err on the side of caution. It would not do for us to have any misadventures. Then I would have to confess to William what happened to you, and he would give me quite the dressing down for allowing you up these steps.”
Since she was halfway up the hill, Augusta didn’t think Lady Jane could quite see her expression of mild, amused disbelief. She didn’t believe that Lord Ainsworth would truly chastise her for anything short of committing a murder. Even then, he might not. He was not afraid of her by any means, but he was too affectionate toward her to undertake the task.
The views offered from the top of the gazebo on the hill were breathtaking. Augusta had never seen scenery that had affected her so viscerally. She hadn’t possessed the opportunities to travel at her leisure, and nowhere that she had lived offered such a vantage point. Beyond the manor, there were more green, overgrown hills, plants and grass glowing emerald under the sun. Above the tops of the valley, gentle clouds floated about as though they were ships on calm waters.
Sheep rambled freely, feeding on hardy grass without a care in the world. Birds flew from tree to tree cheerfully, while some of their compatriots drifted to the grass and pecked at insects or seeds. Though Augusta was certain that the livestock still bleated and the birds all chirped happily, very few of their sounds carried to the gazebo. Whether that was a trick of the mind or the truth, the muffled noise gave the location a peaceful, pleasing ambiance.
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