“This is true. Father shall look into the matter, I have no doubt. Needless to say, he shall know nothing of it save you get below stairs with the letter and have it dispatched forthwith.”
“Yes, o’ course, miss,” Ruby said, her eyes wide with the weight of her responsibility. “I shall make a great to-do about it in the servant’s hall and insist they send their fastest manservant.”
“That will do, Ruby,” Analisa said with a fond smile. “Now go!”
Once the zealous maidservant had departed with the letter, Analisa cast about for something to occupy her time until the coming dancing lesson. Her eye fell on the rose petal where it lay on her dressing table, and she wondered where the earl had come by such. Donning a bright red, hooded cape, she set out to comb the garden for a rose bush that had survived the storms of winter.
At present, the weather was mild with no snow having fallen the past fortnight; nevertheless, she was skeptical that a rose bush might have burst into bloom in the interim. She skirted the house as she assumed that the bushes closest to shelter were most likely to bear blooms. To her disappointment, she found little more than berries.
She continued her search, persuaded that Lord Northrup had pocketed the petal during his walk about the house the morning previous. As she came round the far corner of Dance Hall, she encountered a greenhouse made almost entirely of glass. Doubtless it harbored a rose bush or two.
To her delight, she found an outer door and took the cold, smooth latch in her hand. She pulled it and was besieged by waves of warm, moist air mingled with the aromas of numberless blooms. Enchanted, she breathed deeply of the orange and lemon blossoms, then removed a glove so as to run her fingers along the rows of herbs to release their pungent aromas. Eventually, a melodic splash of water came to her ears. She pushed back the hood from her hair and wandered about until she found her way to a fountain, its pool stocked with brightly colored fish. Across from it was the door into the house proper, flanked on either side by a potted rose bush. Each bloomed with a riot of deep red petals.
The bright blooms were so tempting; what had possibly induced the earl to pilfer only a single petal? She reached out to finger the velvet buds, taking care to avoid the thorns. Lost in her private world, she was greatly startled when she suddenly sensed a presence by her side.
Thinking it to be one of her friends, she whirled about to discover Mr. Callerton regarding her, his eyes dancing with pleasure.
“Oh my! I’m afraid I must look the very picture of fright.” Her heart beat so with apprehension that she feared it could be seen as it knocked against the folds of her cloak.
“You are a picture, indeed—one painted by a great master.” He folded himself into a deep bow. “What other explanation could there be for such brilliant color in your cheeks?”
“Oh,” she breathed as her hands flew to cover the marks of her distress. “It is over warm in here, is it not?”
“Indeed.” He paused and looked about him for a moment. “There is a settee just to the other side of those palms. Let us sit.” He did not wait for her response before he took her arm in his and led her thither.
Gratefully, she sank onto the high-backed bench and busied herself with the removal of her other glove. She could hardly believe her good fortune in stumbling across Mr. Callerton less than an hour after dispatching a letter to her father. She opened her mouth to broach an acceptable subject on which to converse but was taken aback when Mr. Callerton seated himself a mere few inches from her person. To her further dismay, he reached out to pull the string of her hood without so much as a by your leave.
Free of its moorings, the lush red cloak slid down her arms to puddle about her. Before she could surmise what he was about, he deftly flicked the soft folds from her lap, an act that left her in no doubt as to his experience handling women’s garments. As she was not in the least wishful of a husband utterly lacking in worldly wisdom, she set aside her constraint and studied him with renewed interest.
“Many thanks,” she said with what she hoped was a glowing smile. “I shall now recover from the heat soon enough.”
“Not too soon, I pray.” He took her chin between his thumb and finger and made a show of studying her face. “That blush upon your cheek is so lovely; I am persuaded that I have never seen its equal.”
Analisa felt unable to respond with her chin yet his captive. To her relief, he released her in response to a beseeching glance. Unfortunately, he dropped his hand instead to her thigh, a circumstance any number of beseeching glances failed to rectify.
“Have you toured much of the Continent?” She would rather have asked him when he intended to remove his hand, but she had never before been properly courted. As such, she dared not say anything that should spoil her chances of receiving an offer of marriage.
“Yes, of course. It is where the earl and I first became acquainted. Has he not written to you of me?”
“Let us not speak of Lord Northrup,” she proposed with a coy smile, one she prayed would deter him from posing further questions to which she did not possess answers.
“But of course.” He lifted his hand from her thigh and laid it against her cheek.
“What brings you here so early today, Mr. Callerton?” she asked, while, swiftly, she placed her gloves where his hand had once been. “The gentlemen are not expected for the dancing lesson until this afternoon.”
“Would it be scandalous to confess my only object was to see you?”
The lecture from the etiquette lesson the day prior came forcibly to her mind; her instructor would have been most appreciative of the maidenly constraint with which Analisa looked away.
Mr. Callerton laughed and dropped his hand to her shoulder, whereupon he began to rub his thumb along her collarbone. “Though I had not expected to find you on your own. Hasn’t Mrs. Smith intentions for you?”
“I daresay the younger girls are enjoying another etiquette lesson, but I have excused myself. I pray I am not too bold when I say that there is little Mrs. Smith can teach me. It has been long since I left the schoolroom, after all.” Analisa prayed that her words evoked visions of a tree full of ripening, rather than rotting, fruit. “Now, pray tell, for what purpose have you come in search of me?” She realized the moment she so longed for had possibly arrived and her heart again began to take up a lively beat.
“Very well, then, I shall admit the truth: I have thought of nothing but you since the other night. Is that something of which I should be ashamed?” He smiled and gazed directly into her eyes in so easy a manner, she felt not the least discomfited by it.
“Not at all! Need I be ashamed to confess that I have had you in my mind not an hour past?”
He raised his brows in what looked to be some astonishment. “I am delighted to hear you say so, but, I must say,” he added with a chuckle, “I am relieved that Laurie is not present to overhear our tête-à-tête.”
Analisa felt her brow crease in confusion. “Pray forgive me, am I meant to know this Laurie?”
“Why, yes, of course! Lord Northrup—you don’t suppose his friends call him such.”
“Yes, I had supposed they had done. He became a lord at such a tender age, he was already Lord Northrup when first we met.”
“I’m afraid you have it rather backward,” Mr. Callerton explained. “His name is Gabriel—Gabriel Lawrence.”
She was enthralled by how different the earl’s given name sounded in contrast to his title. “I do believe it suits him. Why ever should anyone wish to call him Laurie?”
“I suspect he picked it up at school. Boys are merciless upon these matters, which is precisely how I became known as Dora.”
“Dora! Surely you jest, Mr. Callerton.”
He smiled and drew his hand along her shoulder, bringing it to rest at the base of her neck. “Not at all. It’s the worst they could do with my given name of Theodore.”
“It is a lovely name,” she said pleasantly enough, though she wished he might keep his hands to
himself. “I do believe it suits you.”
“Ah, but do I suit you, Miss Lloyd-Jones?”
Finally, they were coming to the matter at hand. “Am I to be pumped for clues on the state of my heart?” she quipped.
Mr. Callerton plucked her hand from her lap and held it between his own. “Ah, but the heart is not the matter under discussion, is it, Miss Lloyd-Jones?”
“By that, I surmise you refer to the supposition that claims with whom one aligns oneself is as dependent on practicalities as it is on mutual attraction.” Analisa heard an echo of her father’s harsh sentiments in her words but knew she was correct; one could not hope to enjoy a successful marriage with a man she did not like. Conversely, one might very possibly be attracted to the handsome stable boy but as a husband, he would never do.
“I perceive that you begin to understand me,” Mr. Callerton said in tones so low it threatened to undermine her equanimity.
His manner was so varied from that whilst they danced a few nights prior that Analisa found she could not predict his intentions. His eyes, curtained as they were by a row of thick lashes, harbored nary an inkling of his thoughts. “I believe that I do, Mr. Callerton, but one mustn’t speculate. If there is anything you wish to say to me or perhaps a question you wish to ask, I assure you, I am eager to learn what it is.”
He looked up to meet her gaze, and a slow smile spread across his face. “It is only that I fear to cause you any astonishment. I would not have you alarmed on my account.”
She shifted about to face him more fully. “I believe you will find me more prepared for your question,” she prodded, “or whatever it is you have to say,” she added with a bright smile, “than you suppose.”
He gazed at her in silence, but the growing light in his eyes spoke volumes. She owned it was pleasant to be so admired but found she was impatient to hear his offer of marriage. To that end, when he guided her face to his, she closed her eyes and relented.
She had never before been kissed, had no experience with which to compare, but she felt his was a competent kiss. His mouth was pleasantly cool against her own and soft as a baby’s breath. Sadly, it almost seemed to end before it began. A bit crestfallen, she opened her eyes to find that he looked at her with a hunger that caused her no undue amount of consternation.
“Am I wrong to believe you and I shall rub along together better than most, Miss Lloyd-Jones?” Before she had a chance to so much as nod her head, he gathered her into his arms and pulled her close as if to kiss her again—and again and again if she read his expression aright.
“I must ask you to stop, Mr. Callerton.” She ensured that her voice was firm. “There is much to be settled before there can be more between us, do you not agree?”
He withdrew his arms with a rueful laugh. “You are wiser than I presumed, which is all to the good. I shall not tremble in my boots for your sake on account of Laurie.”
Analisa felt her ire rise at the implication. “It is true, at times, he has spoken of our betrothal as a fait accompli, but there has been no official announcement. There have been times, as well, when he has admitted to doubts that we should truly suit.” She thought back on his remarks in the breakfast room when he had admitted how wrong he had been to make assumptions. “I am persuaded that were I to receive another offer, he would consider me released from any obligation.”
Mr. Callerton emitted a gusty sigh. “I know him well enough and do not believe he shall concede defeat as readily as you suppose. I do, however, enjoy a challenge and shall look forward to what remains of a most amusing house party.”
“He shall not be angry, if that is what you fear. He has proven that he can be a gentleman when he so chooses. And, I might add,” she said as she removed Mr. Callerton’s hand that had found its way again to her thigh, “that I fully expect you to behave as one as well.”
He laughed again as he crossed his arms and held them tight against his chest. “I shall behave myself for now, as long as you promise that you shall be mine.”
“But of course I do, Mr. Callerton.” She attempted and failed to deny the sense of triumph that rose in her breast. “I do ask, however, that you allow me to inform the earl of how matters stand when I deem it most suitable. Between now and then, whenever that shall be, you must be patient. Matters might prove difficult, even a bit distressing, with the both of you harbored under my father’s roof, but I believe it shall all come about in the end.”
“I believe the word excruciating to be more fitting,” he said as he carried her hand to his lips and kissed it. “But I am nothing if not a patient man.”
Analisa would not have predicted that matters could be settled so quickly and satisfactorily. She regretted that she did not love Mr. Callerton, but she liked him very much indeed. “You are a man of many superior qualities, and I anticipate the discovering of them with great pleasure.”
Mr. Callerton rose to his feet, her hand still in his. “Laurie and I have spent much time together in our travels on the Continent. He spoke of you so often and with such admiration that I imagined you to be quite different than I now find you. He is, after all, such a paragon of rectitude.”
“I know not what to make of your observations, Mr. Callerton. However, I am persuaded Lord Northrup admires me for a number of reasons.”
“Indeed, I did not mean to imply that you are in any way lacking!” Mr. Callerton exclaimed. “Naturally, he spoke of your beauty so often that I wondered at it. And yet, it was his notion of beauty that I doubted. I believed such a Puritan would define beauty far differently than would I. In this, I have erred.”
“Thank you, Mr. Callerton,” she said with a smile calculated to charm. “That was prettily said. Now I believe I must return to the house.”
“Of course, and from here I shall take your leave.”
He helped her to rise, and she felt light as a feather under the strength of his arm. It was very pleasant and spoke of many pleasant days to come. Theirs would not be a marriage of mutual passion, but she found that she expected less of life than she had when she was sought out and fawned over by every eligible man in her sphere. “I look forward to this afternoon’s dancing lesson but be warned, I expect Lord Northrup shall insist I spend the course of the lesson with him.”
With a twinkle in his eye, Mr. Callerton released her hand and favored her with the deepest of bows. “Until then, my dear.”
Chapter Six
Chasse—To Chase and Replace One Foot with Another
Analisa remained in the greenhouse until Mr. Callerton made his way outside. Once he had disappeared from view, she heaved a sigh; she felt entirely spent. Taking up her cloak and gloves, she followed the music of the fountain to the entrance of the house. Reluctant to discover what new vexation might await her on the other side of the door, she lingered over the roses. It occurred to her that a few of the buds would make a lovely coronet to wear with her new gown come the ball. Her head full of such agreeable notions, she opened the door to discover the earl in the passage.
“Lord Northrup!” she gasped. She knew it impossible, yet she could not help but feel that her secret was plain for him to see. “The dancing lesson does not commence for some time.”
“I fear I have arrived earlier than is seemly,” he said as he held his arm out to her, “but I wished to speak with you.”
“Of course.” She took his arm with no small amount of apprehension. “How did you find me?”
“I nearly did not. The greenhouse was the last place you could be.”
“I own I have never before ventured into this part of the house. I hardly know where I am.”
“Never fear, I shall lead you to safety.”
“Thank you, my lord,” she replied as she fretted as to whether or not they were likely to encounter her new beau before they gained the front hall. “Was it your friend, Mr. Callerton, who informed you of my whereabouts?”
“I haven’t seen him. Is he at Dance Hall?”
“Why, yes, he is,�
� she replied, choosing her words carefully. “He stumbled upon me in the greenhouse, quite by accident. I hadn’t even known that is where I was headed.”
“Perhaps he followed in your wake.” His voice betrayed nothing of the tension she could feel in the muscles of his arm.
“I doubt not the possibility. In any case, we had the liveliest discussion about diminutives of Christian names. Were you aware he was called Dora at school?”
“Yes,” he said shortly. “What’s more, I might easily contrive to introduce a dozen topics of conversation far more lively.”
She was not in the least deluded by his show of indifference. “Perhaps, but there was more said of even greater interest, at least to me. He explained how you came to be called Laurie.” She could not help but look up to ascertain his reaction to her words and was delighted to see his ears turn a bright shade of red.
“My father always used my proper name. It has been years now since I have heard it spoken.”
“Gabriel is a lovely name, but I like Laurie too,” she said with a smile that owed nothing to artifice.
“Perhaps, but ‘Lordy Laurie’ was a regular taunt I should never wish to hear again,” he said darkly.
“To be sure,” she said as gravely as she could manage around her incipient laughter. “I suppose you should never forgive me if, in that, I should find anything amusing.”
He came to a halt and guided her about so that they stood face-to-face. “I should forgive you most anything, and willingly,” he insisted, taking her hand in both of his. “However, you must see that to make light of something so disagreeable is nothing short of cruel.”
“Pray forgive me, my lord.” She felt her smile slip from her face. “I had no desire to cause you a moment of distress. You never need fear that I shall do so in such a way again.”
He made no reply, but she saw clearly the pain in his eyes.
“You were so young a lord,” she said slowly as realization dawned, “and vulnerable. To have lost your father when yet a schoolboy, to then be head of the family as well! What a burden to be endured by one so bereft of years.”
Timeless Regency Collection: A Midwinter Ball Page 5