The Rake’s Hesitant Bride: Historical Regency Romance (Ladybirds of Birdwell Book 2)

by Ella Edon

  Mr. Brookford was waiting for them there. They curtsied and he bowed, and they exchanged simple harmless pleasantries until his parents arrived. Again, there was bowing and curtsying and pleasantries, until Lady Albany invited them all to be seated and dinner was served.

  Merope was aware that Mr. Brookford and his parents had not failed to miss the tension between herself and Sally, for that tension had been obvious from the moment they arrived. But there was nothing for it now than to keep moving forward and try to think only of the ball to be held in two nights. Both young women knew, all too well, that that would be the night that could change everything . . . for one of them.

  Everyone at the table was very grateful to see that the first course was ready and waiting to be served. It was one of Merope's favorite dishes: the popular white soup, thick and creamy. "We often prepare this at the inn, especially when large groups are expected," Merope said to Lady Albany. "This is delicious! But I believe it is a slightly different recipe from what we use."

  "It may be," Lady Albany responded. "Here, we use veal to make the stock, and go very lightly on the egg yolks."

  "Ah, I see," said Merope, smiling. "At the inn, our cook uses chicken stock and plenty of egg yolks. But I shall ask my mother if we might try it with veal next time. This is very, very good."

  "Thank you," she said. "It is a favorite of mine, as well."

  "Lady Albany," Sally said, jumping in at the very first opportunity. " I want so much to ask you about the ball!"

  Lady Albany glanced at Mr. Brookford and smiled. "I'm very much looking forward to it, Miss Henson. We have not held a ball here at Albany House in several years. It is certainly time we did so again."

  Merope noted that she held Mr. Brookford's gaze for a long time, and then calmly went back to her white soup.

  Mr. Brookford glanced first at Merope and then at Sally, smiling at the both of them. "My mother means to say that I have been gone too long, and they saw no reason to hold parties and dances in my absence. But I shall try to make it up to her at the ball on Wednesday night."

  "Oh, I am so excited I can hardly contain it!" squeaked Sally. Mr. Brookford looked a little askance at her, but she never noticed. "What time does it begin? How many are invited? Are they all from Birdwell? Are some from the local farms? Who are – "

  "Miss Henson," interrupted Lady Albany, setting down her soup spoon. "I can start by telling you that the ball is to begin at seven in the evening, with guests arriving from six o'clock onward."

  "Oh, wonderful!" Sally set down her spoon, clapped her hands, before picking up the spoon again. Merope simply stared at her, fascinated.

  "I do remember that there are some forty guests on the list," said Lord Albany. "I recall it because I heard many times that we must have forty chairs, forty glasses, forty small bowls, and forty dainty spoons for the refreshments to be served." He glanced at his wife with a small, but mischievous smile, and she returned it before looking away.

  Merope was quite pleased to see that they appeared to be a good-natured couple and were kind to one another. Mr. Brookford did look much like his mother, and at the same time seemed to have his father's reserve and streak of playfulness.

  It was not a bad combination.

  "Ooh! What refreshment is that?" asked Sally. "What would be served in a small bowl with a spoon?" She seemed to be holding her breath with anticipation.

  "Lemon ice," said Lady Albany.

  "With blackberries and whipped cream," added Lord Albany. "I received the bill for that, too.”

  "Oh, how absolutely marvelous!" cried Sally. "I have never had a lemon ice before! Have you, Merope? I cannot wait to taste it!"

  Merope quickly shook her head, knowing it would be futile to say much until Sally was once again eating her soup. She waited patiently, and, after a few moments, got her chance.

  "I am looking forward to the lemon ice, too," Merope said, “and to everything to do with the ball. Forty sounds like a very good number for being so far out in the countryside, here at Albany House."

  "It is a good number," said Lady Albany. "In truth, I would not want too many more than that. Our ballroom is not so large as some, and I do hope everyone will be comfortable."

  "I am sure they will," said Merope. "When we – "

  "Yes, when we held the series of assembly balls last summer in Birdwell, there was quite the crush!" Sally said, apparently unable to contain her enthusiasm. "We were – "

  "We held the first and third of the assembly balls at my mother's inn," continued Merope. "I will say, Lady Albany, that I would much prefer the beauty of Albany House with a more select crowd than our simple little inn with half the county trying to fit into it."

  Lady Albany only laughed. "I am sure it was a wonderful time, Miss Robbins. I do admire your mother, and yourself, for running a very fine establishment. The town is much the better for it, I think."

  Merope nodded in gratitude, feeling quite pleased at such a compliment from Mr. Brookford's mother.

  "Though I will add," Lady Albany went on, "that I should be surprised if we do not get at least forty in attendance. Amusements are not held quite so often out here, and so whenever there is a social event, everyone who can possibly attend makes certain to do so."

  Lord Albany spoke up again. "You may be sure that all the young ladies will have quite a choice of young gentlemen to be introduced to and dance with. And I think – "

  "Why, Mr. Brookford," said Sally, sounding almost demure. She seemed not to have heard Lord Albany speaking. "You have hardly said a word! Are you looking forward to the ball as much as Miss Robbins and I look forward to it?"

  Mr. Brookford finished his dish of white soup, touched his linen napkin to his lips, and smiled politely at Sally. "Very much so, Miss Henson. As my mother said, it has been some time since I have enjoyed a gathering here at Albany House. I am very much honored that you and Miss Robbins have graciously agreed to be our guests here both before and after the ball."

  Merope simply nodded again, but Sally couldn't help giggling. "I am so glad to be here!" She said excitedly. "The assembly balls were quite amusing, but of course, they could never compare to an affair held in a private home instead of in a – "

  "Oh, here is our main course," said Lady Albany, as two of the footmen walked in carrying large silver trays. "I do hope you enjoy it. It is a favorite of mine: roasted chicken in a wine-and-mushroom sauce."

  "It looks wonderful, Lady Albany," said Merope, for it did indeed.

  There was also some sort of mashed potato-and-cabbage dish that she had never had before, but she found it very tasty as well. It was well buttered and seemed to have a little touch of onion in it as well. "What do you call this potato dish? It seems quite simple, but it is certainly delicious."

  Sally seemed not to realize that Merope was still conversing with Lady Albany, and again she jumped right in. "Why, Miss Robbins, I am surprised you do not know! It is colcannon, a traditional dish among Irish farm families. I have a grandmother from Ireland, and she would make it for us. We have – "

  "That is quite right, Miss Henson," said Mr. Brookford, almost as if to silence her. "It has been a favorite of mine since childhood. I believe my mother had it served this evening for my sake.”

  "I wonder that you might not like to serve colcannon regularly at your inn, Miss Robbins," said Sally, in a voice sweet as sugar syrup. "It is very simple and very inexpensive. It would seem a perfect fit!"

  Silence fell around the table. Everyone paused, finding it hard to believe that Sally would insult the Robbins Inn by implying they should only serve cheap food. At that moment Merope’s eyes narrowed, as she looked at Sally, she gave the girl a very cold smile.

  "Thank you, Miss Henson. I shall speak to my mother about it as soon as I return home. I'm sure she will be pleased to take your recommendation."

  Sally just smiled, but for the first time, she seemed a little uncertain. Mr. Brookford, for his part, looked a bit uncomfortable as he glanc
ed from Sally to Merope as though hoping someone would step in and rescue him from having to comment on the conversation that had transpired.

  But neither of the young women did. From that moment on, neither Sally nor Merope behaved as if one knew that the other was in the same room. There was no longer any companionship between them. It was each one for herself.

  Fortunately, it was not too much longer before the dessert was served. Merope tried to enjoy her slice of apricot cake with cinnamon sauce, but it was difficult when all she could think of was some way to repay the insult Sally had offered not only to her but to her mother and to the Robbins Inn itself.

  Not even Mr. Brookford, or the lovely meal served in the presence of his parents, were enough to distract Merope from her thoughts of discreet revenge. She glanced at Sally for just a moment, but by Sally's briefly shocked expression, Merope realized that she herself must be looking very cold indeed.

  For the rest of the time at the dinner table, she tried to arrange her face into something like a small smile and concentrated on finishing her apricot cake. The sweet cinnamon sauce it was drizzled in was excellent, and she did not want to miss that.

  However at that moment there was a slight clatter. She looked up to see that Sally seemed to have dropped her dessert fork onto her plate and was quickly trying to catch it. Then she giggled, put the fork down, and giggled again.

  Merope sighed and took the last bite of her cake. Sally was desperately trying to create a happy, carefree impression of herself, but to Merope, she only looked like an overly silly child who wanted all the attention.

  Mr. Brookford cleared his throat. "Miss Henson," he began, "I was thinking of showing both you and Miss Robbins our fields and our millhouse tomorrow. Does that sound agreeable to you?"

  Sally beamed a bright smile at him, surely not failing to notice that he had addressed her directly and not Merope. "Why, I should love to," she said, with another little giggle. "At whatever time you wish, Mr. Brookford. I will certainly look forward to walking out with you."

  Sally enjoyed attempting to exclude Merope, but Mr. Brookford looked at her with a warm smile. "You will also come to see the millhouse, won't you, Miss Robbins?"

  Merope gave him a small nod and a cool smile. "I shall be glad to walk out with you and see the rest of your home, Mr. Brookford."

  "Good. Good. We will plan to do that in the morning, before the day grows too warm. And – "

  Both women looked up, but Mr. Brookford continued speaking to Merope. "We have a few horses and ponies here. If you like, Miss Robbins, perhaps we can have another riding lesson this week." He turned his gaze to Sally. “And you are welcome to join, Miss Henson.”

  She was caught a little by surprise. The first lesson had been difficult and humiliating – but at this moment, all that was almost worth it when she realized Sally was frowning and looking very sulky that she had not been invited first.

  Merope sat back a little, cocked her head, and offered Mr. Brookford a smile that was just a bit more sincere. "I will consider that, Mr. Brookford. I certainly learned much the first time."

  He just grinned back, and for a moment, Merope forgot all about the jealous rivalry between herself and Sally. Instead, she looked into Mr. Brookford's sparkling hazel eyes, his soft dark hair, tumbling over them, and she began to feel just a little bit happier.

  Soon the servants cleared the dishes away and a coffee service was brought out. "My son is fond of coffee," said Lady Albany, "and so I invite both of you young ladies to share it with us. Have you tried coffee before?"

  "Why, no, I have not!" said Sally, quickly jumping in. "But I should love to try it, Lady Albany."

  "Yes, thank you, I have tried coffee and I enjoy it very much," said Merope calmly. "We often serve it at the inn. We find that many of our guests prefer it to tea."

  "I do remember that, Miss Robbins," said Mr. Brookford, smiling. "Your inn certainly did have the best coffee I think I have ever tried."

  Merope gazed at him, wondering if he was simply being polite – or even mocking her. But he did indeed seem to be sincere. Merope noted how annoyed Sally was by the reminder that he'd met her there for coffee, she merely smiled back at James and poured a little fresh cream into her steaming cup.

  As all of them took care of the business of passing the cream and sugar around the table and preparing the coffee to their liking, Sally took a sip from her cup before adding anything to it. Merope saw her make a small face and quickly set the cup back down on its saucer.

  So, Sally did not care for coffee. Of course, it might taste better with sugar and cream, but Merope was not about to tell her that. Yet Merope was certain that Sally would gush to James anyway about how much she loved drinking coffee.

  As a way of distracting herself while the others sampled their hot steaming cups, Sally reached down to her lap and placed her reticule on the edge of the table. She had apparently brought the little drawstring bag with her, perhaps because it matched her dress, and began searching through the bag.

  Merope could not fathom what she might be doing. Searching through a reticule while still at table? Well, perhaps she had a reason, but Merope was not about to interfere. She was more than willing to allow Sally to make a fool of herself for as long as she wished.

  "Ah! There it is," said Sally, as Merope took her first long drink of the excellent hot coffee. Everyone looked at Sally as she held up whatever it was that she had found in the little bag.

  "Lady Albany," said Sally, ignoring her coffee cup. "I wanted to ask you about the card I received inside my invitation to the ball – the card requesting that I arrive early, as we did. You mentioned that Miss Robbins was to receive the same one."

  "That is correct, Miss Henson," she answered, stirring her coffee. "Sadly, Miss Robbins's card seems not to have arrived. Yet we are very glad that you so generously notified her of the early arrival, so that she would not miss it."

  Merope watched them both closely. She could not imagine what Sally might attempt now. She was behind in the game now, having been revealed as a little farm girl who had never tried coffee – and as being so unsophisticated that she did not even like it when offered a cup of the best.

  "Now, this is my card, Lady Albany," Sally said, holding it out. "Is this the same as the one that was sent to Miss Robbins?"

  Again – though she made absolutely no outward sign – Merope was amazed at Sally's audacity while sitting at dinner with Mr. Brookford's parents. There seemed to be nothing she would not do in an effort to make herself look like James's choice while Merope was simply a ride-along to provide company for Sally.

  This little ruse was just a way to remind everyone that Sally had received an invitation to be a houseguest while Merope had not.

  Lady Albany reached out and took the card, and then studied it closely. "Yes, Miss Henson. This is indeed what should have been sent to both of you – addressed in your own names, of course."

  "Of course, of course," Sally said, waving her hand rather dismissively towards Merope. "As you said, I am just so pleased that – "

  "What's this?" interrupted Lady Albany.

  Merope looked up at Lady Albany, watching as she held the card and then pulled at the edge with one finger. Sally gasped as the one card suddenly became two.

  "Is that – ?" started Sally.

  "Yes, dear, it is. It seems that Miss Robbins's invitation to stay as our houseguest was stuck to the back of yours."

  Sally looked entirely shocked. The tables had certainly turned, and Merope took a nice long sip of her coffee in order to hide the smirk she knew must surely be on her face.

  Lady Albany placed Sally's card on the table and gave Merope's over to her. "Miss Robbins, I am so sorry. I assure you, it was just a small accident. One of the servants was assisting me with the invitations and would not have known if one was missing."

  She smiled gently at Merope. "I am glad that it all turned out well and you are here with us now,” she added.

 
"That's quite all right, Lady Albany," answered Merope, setting her cup down on its saucer. "I am just pleased, and honored, to be here."

  She glanced at Sally, but the other girl had already put her card away in the reticule and was trying her best to take another sip of the coffee. Merope caught her eye and passed her the small pitcher on the table. "Cream?"

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next morning, Merope came downstairs a little ahead of Sally, for the other girl had decided to make little curls in her hair and that took quite a bit of time. "We're only going to walk out to see the mill," Merope had said. "We'll be wearing plain dresses and boots today. Don't you think you should save your curls for the ball?"