Even as she thought it, a sad chord reverberated within her. How she wished she could be free to return that regard. How she wished that he actually was the good man that he seemed to be instead of a wicked, scheming liar.
*
The instant he saw Miss Hart, Winston’s pulse began to race. At first, she appeared pleased to see him as well, but then she frowned and looked away. If she did care for him, no doubt she had been taught to hide her feelings until he declared himself. Despite his growing feelings for her, he was certainly not prepared to do that, not after knowing her for just over a week. Still, not seeing her for these past few days had been difficult while he worked on his secret projects, which he hoped would delight her. Now that they were completed, he had left the Lords’ Chamber early today planning to put on a fresh suit and visit her at Blakemore House. But here she was in his own drawing room. What a pleasant surprise—no, an absolute delight—to find her here.
He bowed over Lady Blakemore’s hand first, then her fair companion’s.
“How is your wound, Miss Hart?” He would not neglect to inquire about it until it was entirely healed.
“I thank you, sir, it is well. I am able to wield this spoon without difficulty.” She retrieved her hand from his grasp and lifted the implement from her teacup, giving him her most charming smirk. “And my pen.”
“Ah, very good. I look forward to another of your delightful poems.” He hoped his tone held exactly the right degree of gentle sarcasm. If the young lady’s laughter was any indication, he had succeeded. Greeting Mother and Sophia, he then chose a chair beside Miss Hart. “I see that all of you have had your tea.”
“Another cup, Llewellyn.” Mother signaled the butler with a wave.
These past few days, Winston had noticed how readily the old man took orders from her, far more quickly than he did for Winston. After Father’s death, Llewellyn had been a rock for them all in managing many important details. Winston had hoped he would prove helpful in restoring this town house. But the butler seemed to passively begrudge him his service. Since Mother’s arrival, his attitude had improved, but only for her. The situation confounded Winston.
“My darling James.” Mother interrupted his thoughts. “What has brought you home so early in the day? Should you not be in the Lords’ Chamber reviewing some important law that Commons wants to pass?”
All of the ladies focused their attention on him, and he tugged at his suddenly tight cravat. Just as her question suggested, he had deserted his post. Father had never missed a single hour of a single session during his long tenure as Lord Winston—that is, until his final illness. The urge to acquit himself proved too strong, for he would not wish for Miss Hart to find him negligent in his duties.
“You have found me out, madam. I stole away in the midst of yet another round of arguments against Wilberforce’s proposed law to protect younger climbing boys. When the vote comes up, I am for it, of course, but I do not believe we have much hope for its passing.”
“Such a shame,” Lady Blakemore said. “At Blakemore House, I absolutely refuse to let the smaller boys climb into those narrow spaces, no matter how much the chimney requires cleaning. That is what those circular brooms are for.”
Winston had not meant to start a discussion on the topic, but the countess and Mother began to bemoan the general ill-treatment of small children of the lower classes, with each giving examples of some tragedy or another. While they chattered away, Winston focused on the young lady who sat primly by his side.
“Miss Hart,” he said softly, “I have two surprises for you, and I hoped we might take a carriage ride this afternoon so that I can reveal them.”
“Surprises?” She tilted her head in her charming way. “What—”
“Oh, yes, do take us out, James.” Sophia clapped her hands and bounced in her chair. “I have been wondering if you intended to make Mama and me prisoners in this gloomy house. Oh!” She slapped a hand over her lips. “I mean, oh, it is a very nice house, but—”
The other ladies appeared to struggle against laughing, and Winston could only be grateful for their generosity. Once again, Lady Blakemore declined to give his impulsive sister a set down.
“I have no idea what you mean, imp.” He could not resist teasing her. “Why would anyone call this house gloomy when you are here?”
His sister rewarded him with a giggle.
“A carriage ride will be lovely.” Miss Hart gave him a beguiling smile. “As will surprises,” she whispered.
“Shall we all go?” Mother spoke lightly, but her eyes implored him with the same fervor as Sophia’s.
At once he knew his fault. He had neglected the poor dears in favor of his secret projects, and now he must make amends. “If Lady Blakemore is willing, I should be honored to escort all of you to Green Park, where we can partake of the refreshment sold by the famous milkmaids.”
“I would be delighted.” With the countess’s approval, the expedition was launched.
While Winston quickly changed clothes and ordered his new landau brought around from the mews, the ladies saw to their bonnets, spencers, parasols and gloves. They filed out through the front door and were met by a brilliant sun that seemed to add its approval of their plans. As he had arranged, Winston signaled the footman not to open the carriage door.
“Why, Lord Winston.” Miss Hart hurried to the landau and reached out to touch the new decoration. “You have added your family crest. How beautiful. This is a lovely surprise.” She traced the red griffin and green laurel wreath resting on the shiny black shield. “‘Confortare, Integritatem et Victoria.’” She read his family motto emblazoned in gold across the top. “Courage, integrity and victory.”
Her sidelong glance and approving smile caused a minor disturbance in the vicinity of his heart. He quickly cleared his throat.
“I would not have thought of it without your suggestion.” The crest would do for now, but he would wait until they were alone to give her his other surprise.
“Exactly like the crests on the old Winston carriages,” Mother said, while Sophia proclaimed the work exquisite.
“Winston, it is no small thing to proudly display such an historic emblem,” Lady Blakemore said. “Your crest goes far back in English history, and no taint has ever been attached to your family’s name.”
He bowed in her direction, more to hide the foolish pride that must show on his face than to thank her. Yet he had done nothing admirable to deserve such praise other than to be born. “I thank you all. Now, shall we go?” He spied the Blakemore carriage and had a thought to prolong his time with Miss Hart. “Lady Blakemore, since we may be out for some time, may I suggest that you dismiss your driver? I shall see you and Miss Hart safely home.”
To his delight, the countess gave her consent to the idea.
The ladies looked to him to designate their places, and of course he invited the countess and Mother to take the seat of honor facing front. Without being told, Sophia wedged in between the two ladies, leaving Miss Hart to sit beside Winston. Her charming blush, accompanied by a slight smile, revealed that she did not object to the arrangement.
Toby clucked to the horses and slapped the reins on their haunches, and the excursion began. Straightaway, Winston’s heart lightened. Perhaps this would be just as enjoyable as entertaining Miss Hart alone, for now he felt almost at a loss for words regarding his other surprise.
The trip to Green Park would take at least a half hour due to the many turns and heavy traffic so characteristic of midafternoon. They passed several other lords who, like Winston, should have been in their seats in the Lords’ Chamber but were taking advantage of the sunny day.
“I say, Winston,” a gentleman called out from a passing barouche. “May I have a moment?” He ordered his driver to stop.
Winston had no choice but to tell Toby to pull to the side of broad Regent Street so they would not block traffic. But when he saw who had hailed him, his stomach turned. This was the man about whom
Edgar had warned him. He glanced at Mother, but her openly curious expression showed neither alarm nor recognition.
“Morgan.” Tipping his hat, he stood up in the carriage, only now spying a disreputable-looking young woman beside the viscount. Instantly, he regretted stopping. “How may I be of service?”
The gray-haired rake laughed. “Why, can you not guess, sir? Must I beg for an introduction to these charming young ladies crowding your carriage? I have plenty of room in mine if you would like to share.”
“Indeed he may not be introduced!” Lady Blakemore barked with uncharacteristic hauteur. “Away, Toby!” She waved her hand impatiently at Winston’s driver.
Toby cast a questioning glance at Winston, who nodded first to him and then to Morgan.
“Good afternoon, sir.” Winston replaced his hat and sat down, trying as he did to shield Miss Hart from Morgan’s view as Lady Blakemore was shielding Sophia.
As their carriages rolled in opposite directions, Morgan merely laughed and said none too softly that old crones should not be ruling England.
“Gracious, can you imagine the nerve?” The countess fanned herself furiously. “A rake like that daring to ask for introductions to decent Christian ladies.”
Mother and Sophia looked at her with identical and supremely innocent expressions.
“Oh, my.” Mother gripped Sophia’s hand. “We are so grateful for your intervention, Lady Blakemore.” She looked at Winston. “Of course, I know you would not have introduced us, James.”
“No, of course not.” Winston studied her beautiful, beloved face and could detect no guilt, no deception there. What had Edgar meant in his note warning him not to permit Mother to become reacquainted with Morgan?
Chapter Fourteen
“This milk is supremely delicious.” Miss Beaumont dabbed her lips with a serviette. “I should like more, but two cups have entirely filled me.”
Catherine managed to drink only one cup of the rich, creamy beverage, but it was so tasty that she must remember one day to bring Lucien and Isabella here to partake of the treat. That day seemed closer now that she was more certain of Lord Winston’s regard.
He stood slightly apart from the ladies and leaned against an oak tree enjoying his drink. When he noticed Catherine looking his way, he smiled and lifted his cup in a salute. A thin white mustache coated his upper lip, enhancing his youthful appearance, and Catherine’s heart skipped. If he were closer, she would be tempted to dab it away. In any other circumstances, she would willingly surrender to the warm affection trying to grow within her, especially when he looked at her in that charming manner. Nor could she discount the way he had gallantly postured his broad shoulders to protect her from that horrid Lord Morgan’s improper stare. Such a simple gesture, but one that had made her feel valued and protected. Always, always, she must remind herself of his crime against Papa.
The baron had mentioned another surprise, yet seemed to have forgotten it. Curiosity almost got the better of her. What would they all think if she imitated Miss Beaumont and skipped over to his side to beg him to reveal his next scheme? Of course, she would not, and yet the impulse tormented her. Mr. Radcliff would advise patience, so she calmed herself with the knowledge that soon she would achieve her purpose.
“You must visit us, Lady Winston.” With a glance at Catherine, Lady Blakemore seemed to include her in the “us” of her invitation, a more frequent and puzzling mode of reference. Was the countess merely continuing to cover Miss Beaumont’s erroneous assumption regarding Catherine’s position? That hardly seemed likely, for rank and position were of supreme importance to both Lord and Lady Blakemore. Every time she found the courage to ask about it, however, someone or something interrupted her.
“I would be delighted beyond words.” Lady Winston’s radiant countenance reinforced her assertion. “I have been away from Society for a very long time, and I fear everyone I knew has forgotten me. With your friendship, perhaps that can be overcome.”
“But, my dear, why did you not accompany your late husband for the Season all those years before he took ill?” Lady Blakemore asked the question Catherine had thought too improper to pose.
“Shall we go?” Lord Winston strode across the space from the tree to the landau, his milky mustache gone and his blond eyebrows bent in a dark frown. “I’ll warrant that you ladies have had enough of this heat.”
Had he meant to interrupt and keep his mother from answering? How very odd. Even Lady Blakemore gaped at him briefly, yet offered no rebuke.
Despite that awkward moment, the drive home was pleasant enough, with Miss Beaumont entertaining them all with an unending stream of questions. How often did they see the Prince Regent? Did he attend all the balls? What was that thick redbrick building over there? Did they call their homes “town houses” because that was where everyone lived when they were in town? Catherine could not fault the girl for her enthusiasm, for she herself had once been excited about the prospect of coming to London. Yet when she had come, the gravity of her mission weighed too heavily upon her for her to enjoy much of anything.
“James, do take Sophia and me to your house before going to Lady Blakemore’s.” The baroness gave her son a sublime smile that seemed to say more than her words.
“But, Mama, I want to see Blakemore House.” Once again Miss Beaumont’s boldness proved she was unprepared to be out in Society, at least to Catherine’s way of thinking. But if the other ladies agreed, they did not say so.
“Not today, my dear. We must not overdo.” Lady Winston’s gently spoken words nonetheless held sufficient authority that her daughter did not argue or pout.
Catherine hoped she would remember that exact tone to use with her own children, should she be so blessed to have some one day.
*
“Take us home, Toby.” Winston could have kissed Mother for her clever manipulation of the situation. Sweet Sophia never knew when to stop chattering, and he was eager to reveal his other secret to Miss Hart without his sister’s interference.
Once his family had been delivered to the town house, proper adieus had been said and the remainder of the party was on its way to Blakemore House, he could not keep from sighing rather more loudly than he had intended.
“Now, now, Winston.” Lady Blakemore laughed. “Your sister is delightful. Do not begrudge her that youthful enthusiasm.”
“You are too kind, madam.”
This was the perfect opportunity to ask Miss Hart again whether she had a younger sister or brother. If so, perhaps she would commiserate with him, which would advance their friendship. And of course, he would learn something more about her. Yet in light of his next surprise for her, he would postpone such questions, for it might reveal much about her family.
In the hope that Lady Blakemore would invite him in, he reached beneath his leather seat as stealthily as he could, retrieved a package and hid it in the inside pocket of his jacket. Neither lady appeared to notice, for they did not question him.
“Of course, you must come in for tea.” Lady Blakemore did not disappoint him or give him the opportunity to decline. Once he handed them down from the carriage, she looped an arm around his and urged him toward the front door.
He glanced over his shoulder at Miss Hart, whose bright eyes and smile seemed to indicate she had not yet tired of his company, either. Last week, when he had taken her for their first and very eventful drive, he had been concerned about Society’s view of the length of their outing. Today, Lady Blakemore’s insistence on his staying was sufficient approval to cast aside his worries.
*
Before they even took their seats in the drawing room, Lady Blakemore announced that she required a lie down if she was to manage attending a party with Lord Blakemore that evening. Catherine bit back a protest that no such party was written on the countess’s schedule. If her employer wanted to play matchmaker, that would work right into Catherine’s plans.
“Do not think you must leave, Winston.” Lady Blakemore ga
ve his shoulder a maternal pat as she passed him. “The footman is here by the door, so all will be proper for you and Miss Hart to enjoy a nice chat.” Without giving him a chance to respond, she swept out of the room with more energy than one would expect from a lady requiring a lie down.
Lord Winston’s well-formed face creased with concern. “I do hope Lady Blakemore is well.”
“Perhaps she merely wants to avoid overdoing.” Catherine sat down and waved him to a chair several yards away.
After a moment of hesitation, he chose a closer one. Catherine’s foolish heart skipped a beat as the scent of his bay-rum cologne reached her. Its heady fragrance had teased her the entire afternoon, and now there was no breeze to alleviate its pleasing effects. If she were free to love him, if he were truly the gentleman he presented to the world, his always-pleasant scent would be an important factor in winning her favor.
“I must admit I’m happy to have a moment of your time.” He reached into his black suit jacket and retrieved the brown paper package he had placed there during their carriage ride. How charming he had looked as he tried to keep her from noticing his actions. Surely this was the surprise he had mentioned. Once again her heart skipped.
“I have taken your suggestion and purchased this book.” He removed the twine and paper to reveal a brown leather copy of Sense and Sensibility.
“Oh, my.” Catherine jolted at the revelation. She had not expected him to remember the book or to care in the slightest that she had advised him to read novels. “This is indeed a surprise, Lord Winston.”
A rather foolish grin spread over his face, like a child who had pleased his tutor. No, rather like a gentleman who had pleased his lady. And indeed, she was pleased.
“I sent for it this past Monday and have been reading it ever since.” He shrugged in a charming way. “I even read it while in my seat in the Lords’ Chamber when the opposition grew tiresome in their rants.”
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