“I’m horrified you thought I could harbor any dislike for you whatsoever,” Miles said. “I think of you like my sister. And although Lara and I have an understanding, I’m waiting until my graduation to formally propose. The delay has nothing to do with you at all.”
“I must admit, Iris’s letter knocked me flat.”
“Angelica discovered it,” Miles said. “She was very concerned about you this morning, as were we all.”
“After Miles brought it to my attention, I couldn’t rest until you knew the truth,” Rory said. “My father also extends his apology for any injury Iris has inflicted. He’s to escort her to America personally.”
“I’m quite grateful. I’ve no wish to ever see her again.”
“Now that we’ve cleared up the matter, will you allow us to escort you back to London tomorrow?” Miles asked. “Angelica had your things packed, but she won’t ship them until you send the word.”
“Thank you, but no. I’m considering Sir Harry’s marriage proposal, and I need time to mull it over.”
“What?” Rory exclaimed. “Sir Harry has proposed?”
“He’s really a very nice man,” Fiona said. “You’ll have the opportunity to visit with him tonight and you can form your own opinion.”
“I meant no disrespect,” Rory said. “If you like him, I look forward to getting to know him better.”
“So you’ve come to volunteer engineering services to St. James?”
When Rory nodded, she gave him a wry smile.
“If you should happen to receive an urgent message from your father, I think no one would look askance at your departure.” She winked. “I certainly would understand completely.”
Fiona stood, and the two gentlemen did the same.
“I’m going to my room to rest until dinner. Servants will be along directly to show you upstairs, but Miles knows his way around.” She paused. “Thank you for coming all this way to speak with me. I’m touched.”
With conflicting emotions, Rory watched Fiona disappear from the drawing room. Although he was glad he’d managed to settle her mind about the stupid letter, he was more than disappointed to hear about her impending engagement. Why did it seem as if he was always one step behind?
“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything about Sir Harry’s proposal,” Miles said.
“You knew?”
“Believe it or not, it slipped my mind.”
“Don’t worry about it, Miles. Even if you’d told me, I still would have come.”
“Fiona’s right about your making a graceful exit, you know. You can claim a family emergency and nobody would be the wiser.”
“No, I don’t think I will. Firstly, I don’t plan to give up on Miss Fiona quite so easily. And secondly, I’ve nothing important to do back in London.”
“Nobody wishes to see her wed to Sir Harry, but she seems determined.”
“I’m equally determined to fight for her. At any rate, I’d genuinely like to make myself useful, and working for charitable organizations gives me pleasure.”
“In that case, I’ll take you to meet the vicar, Mr. Hamish, at St. James tomorrow and you can survey the damage. In the meantime, I’ll send word to Lara, Angelica, and William that all is well here. I know they won’t rest until they know we’ve set things right.”
A maid stepped into the doorway to let them know their rooms were ready, so Rory and Miles followed her into the entrance hall and up the stairs. Rory found Blythe Manor to be a very gracious home and was looking forward to seeing more of it. Perhaps he could convince Fiona to give him a tour tomorrow and they’d have the opportunity to converse. He certainly preferred getting better acquainted with her in this sort of setting, rather than the whirlwind atmosphere of the London Season. There, every look and gesture was scrutinized, commented upon, and criticized, and few people could truly be themselves. The artificiality of the Season often worked to the benefit of shallow idiots like Lord Moordale, but made it difficult for most people to gauge true compatibility. No, as awkward as his arrival at Blythe Manor had been, he would try to turn it to his advantage. Whether or not Fiona was receptive, however, remained to be seen.
Hot, sudsy bathwater comforted Fiona and helped soothe her nerves. Her emotions had been tossed around the last few days like the brightly painted wooden diabolo she used to play with as a child. She was grateful and impressed Miles and Rory had come all the way from London to set things right. Furthermore, she was terribly relieved she was still part of the family after all. Measured against those blessings, she couldn’t even find it in her heart to despise Iris Braithwaite. In fact, much to her surprise, she felt almost sad for a woman who was so obviously filled with anger. Of course, the notion she would be living on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean before long likely had something to do with Fiona’s compassion.
She allowed herself to giggle just a little bit.
Tonight’s dinner would prove interesting. The presence of Rory Braithwaite would lend the gathering a certain spark, but she had to be guarded in her manner toward him. He’d been solicitous and kind that afternoon, however, his attentiveness was motivated by obligation so as to make up for his sister’s malevolent actions. Fiona had to be careful not to neglect Sir Harry, since he was the man who’d proposed to her. No doubt Rory and Miles would return to London tomorrow and she’d be left to consider her future once more.
“Lady Wren,” she murmured out loud, to see how the words rolled off her tongue. “Mrs. Rory Braithwaite.”
Her maid called from the next room. “Is everything all right, Miss Fiona?”
“Yes, Moira.”
Fiona scrubbed her skin with a washcloth and marveled at her change of mood. Several hours ago she’d meant to accept Sir Harry as soon as possible. At present, however, she wasn’t quite so eager to rush into an engagement. If Miles didn’t intend to propose to Lara until his graduation, Fiona wouldn’t be on the shelf quite yet. And as far as her public humiliation regarding Lord Moordale, perhaps she ought to just laugh it off. Now that she wasn’t surrounded by gaggles of other silly girls desperate to catch the viscount, he didn’t seem like such a prize. If it was true the man had accepted money to stay away from Iris, he was most certainly unappealing in the extreme.
Fiona dressed for dinner in a peacock-blue silk concoction featuring a saucy bustle and a fitted bodice. The lace edging around the deep V-cut neckline was both elegant and flirtatious.
“Thank you for bringing this dress, Moira. I wasn’t really in the proper frame of mind to help you with the packing this morning, and I’m glad I could rely on your good judgment.”
“Well, I didn’t have time to pack much, but I tried to pick those gowns which suited you most. This one in particular has always been my favorite.”
Fiona smiled. “It’s perfect.”
“I’m glad you’re feeling so much better. It seems as if being back at Blythe Manor has perked you up.”
“I believe it has.” She reached for her gloves. “I’m going down a little early. I’d like time to speak with Papa before everyone else arrives.”
Her father usually enjoyed a little solitude in the library before heading into the drawing room, so Fiona hastened to join him. When she entered the library, he was examining the globe in the corner.
“Hello, Papa. I thought I could find you here.”
“Hello, Fiona. You look spectacular this evening.”
“Thank you, Papa.”
He pointed at the globe. “I was just contemplating how small the world has become with all the steamships crossing the oceans, willy-nilly. For example, it used to take months to cross the Atlantic, but now you can be transported from Liverpool to New York City in a matter of weeks.”
“It’s rather remarkable, I grant you. Papa, I just wanted to say that I still haven’t made up my mind regarding Sir Harry. If you give him your permission to marry me, it doesn’t mean we’re engaged. You might want to make that clear to him.”
“I’ll
be happy to refuse my permission, if you like. Have you had second thoughts?”
“No, but I just don’t see the need to rush into anything.”
He peered at her. “I can’t argue with good sense, but does this reemergence of caution have anything to do with the arrival of Mr. Braithwaite?”
She felt her face warm. “Not at all! Mr. Braithwaite and I are barely acquainted.”
“I’m not a fool, Fiona. When we were in the garden this afternoon, your blood turned to ice water as soon as you heard his name. At present, however, you’re quite animated and cheerful. I won’t pry, but I suspect you and Mr. Braithwaite had some unfinished business which he has now ably managed.”
“Only that his sister behaved toward me like the worst sort of tormenter all Season, and he came to apologize on her behalf! Don’t mistake his gentlemanly manners for interest, because I don’t.”
“Quite so. Yes, it makes perfect sense for a young, handsome gentleman to deliver in person an apology that could more easily be posted in the mail. Especially with the additional and, may I add, somewhat silly pretext of rescuing a church with which he has no connection. No, I don’t think I could mistake his manners at all.”
“You’re quite wrong, Papa, and I don’t wish to discuss it further.”
To her annoyance, her father chuckled.
Rory and Miles entered the drawing room promptly at six thirty, where a footman was waiting to offer them a glass of sherry. No sooner had they taken a sip when Fiona arrived. Rory felt as if his eyes were riveted to her, and he had no wish to look away. The blue color of her gown was stunning, particularly in contrast to her vibrant hair.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” she said.
Miles nodded. “Good evening.”
“Good evening,” Rory echoed. “Would you care for a glass of sherry?”
He gestured with his glass and splashed a bit of wine onto his hand in the process. As she crossed toward the drink cart, he was obliged to put his glass down on a table and mop the spill with a napkin before Fiona noticed.
She accepted a glass of sherry from the footman. “Mama and Papa will be along directly, and I’m certain Sir Harry won’t be far behind.”
“Blythe Manor is a lovely house,” Rory said. “I’d love to see more.”
“Miles can give you a tour. He’s quite familiar with every nook and cranny by now, I’m sure.”
Fortunately, Miles had Rory’s best interests at heart. “But I can’t possibly do justice to the place like someone who has grown up here. I’m sure you’ve many stories to tell.”
“That’s true. Well, I’ll be happy to show you around if you have time before you leave.”
Miles gave Fiona a sidelong glance. “You’ll have Rory thinking you’re inhospitable by trying to rush him out the door.”
A slight flush stained her cheekbones. “I didn’t mean it that way. Although I enjoy your company, Mr. Braithwaite, I assumed you’d be eager to return to town.”
“Nothing could be further from the truth. My sister is in a mood, as you might well imagine. Until she departs for America, I intend to avoid our London residence as much as possible.”
“You can always take refuge at Greystoke townhouse when you’re in London,” Miles said. “You’re welcome at any time.”
“That’s very kind of you. I might—”
Rory broke off as the butler announced Sir Harry. When Fiona put down her glass and went to greet the new arrival, Rory leaned toward Miles.
“She’s not making this easy.”
“Slow and steady, Rory. I expect it’ll take some time for Fiona to trust you. Don’t forget, Moordale’s ill treatment of her is still a fresh wound.”
“Blast that fellow! I hope I never have to hear his name again.”
Fiona returned with Sir Harry by her side. “Sir Harry, you already know Mr. Greystoke, and I believe you’ve met Mr. Braithwaite.”
“Yes, Mr. Braithwaite and I met at the Quarterbury ball.” Sir Harry gave Rory an appraising glance and shook his hand with an unusually firm grip. “What brings you lads so far from the pleasures of town?”
“We heard St. James is damaged due to the rains,” Miles replied. “Rory came to offer his services as an engineer.”
Sir Harry’s eyebrows rose. “A benevolent gesture, to be sure. I imagine, however, we have sufficient talent in the neighborhood to overcome any challenge.”
“Mr. Braithwaite spent time in India, helping the missionaries drill wells,” Fiona said. “I expect he’ll have much to add.”
“Yes, if St. James needs a well.” Sir Harry smirked. “Blythe Village may be in the country, but we’re hardly bumpkins, Mr. Braithwaite. I’m certain we can manage without you.”
Inwardly, Rory bristled, but he kept his composure. “Sometimes young blood and new ideas are necessary to spot problems older eyes cannot.”
“Ha! I believe I’ve been put in my place.”
Although Sir Harry laughed, Rory didn’t believe he was truly amused. Truth be told, the man was radiating an immediate and intractable hostility. Mr. and Mrs. Robinson entered the drawing room at that moment, and Sir Harry excused himself to greet them.
Fiona touched his arm. “I’m sorry, Mr. Braithwaite. I’m sure Sir Harry didn’t mean to be insulting. Excuse me.” She left to join Sir Harry and her parents on the far side of the room.
Rory cocked an eyebrow at Miles. “He jolly well did mean to insult me. In fact, the old fellow sent a shot across my bow!”
“He’s a retired army commander and I expect he’s used to getting his way. Clearly, he senses he has some competition for Fiona’s affections.”
“She’s not a military campaign to be waged!” Rory made a sound of frustration. “I suppose age and maturity in a man don’t necessarily go hand in hand where women are concerned.”
At dinner, Rory was glad when Fiona was seated between him and Sir Harry, relieving him of the obligation to address the older man directly during the meal. Mrs. Robinson was across the table from Rory, and they conversed about his time in India. Although Sir Harry was largely engaged in speaking with Fiona, Miles, and Mr. Robinson, he apparently overheard and proceeded to talk about India unceasingly. Sir Harry’s military command had commenced during the Indian Rebellion of ’57, as it happened, and his adventures in that country were inevitably more extensive, harrowing, or exciting than anything Rory had to offer. Inwardly, he rolled his eyes at Sir Harry’s gamesmanship, but he let him have the floor.
Despite a rising sense of frustration, Rory managed to exchange a few whispers with Fiona when Sir Harry’s attention was diverted by his meal.
“I noticed a rather beautiful oil painting of Blythe Manor in the entryway. That wouldn’t be yours, would it?” he asked.
She looked at him with astonishment. “How did you guess?”
“It wasn’t hard. I admired it when I first came into the house, and read the signature on the bottom. You possess a marvelous sense of perspective and a skilled use of brush strokes.”
“Why…thank you.”
“I should like to see more of your work while I’m here.”
Her hazel eyes studied him a moment, as if trying to gauge his sincerity.
“I’m perfectly serious,” he said. “Art is one of my passions.”
“If you promise not to judge me too harshly, I’ll show you a few of my paintings and sketches after dinner.”
“I’d enjoy that very much.”
To Fiona’s dismay, she could scarcely eat anything with Rory sitting so near. His presence couldn’t be ignored, much like the innervating sound of a church bell ringing out at midnight. How could one man command her attention so fully? She dared not sneak more than a few glances in his direction, lest her expression reveal her innermost thoughts. When finally he spoke to her, his voice sent delicious shivers down her spine, but fortunately she managed to reply without humiliating herself. Success emboldened her to ask Rory a few questions of her own, but since Sir Harry had
come to dinner at her particular invitation, she couldn’t neglect him.
She tried to imagine how it would be when they were married. Would their dinnertime conversation be as lively as it was at present, or would they fail to have anything in common? Until children arrived, what topics would they have to discuss?
Fiona dipped a spoon into her serving of raspberry and brandy trifle. “Sir Harry, what is your opinion of art?”
“Art?” He seemed taken aback. “Why…I’ve nothing against it.”
Rory leaned forward slightly, as if to catch Sir Harry’s eye. “Fiona happens to be a very talented artist.”
A ray of warmth formed at her core. “You’re too kind, Mr. Braithwaite.”
Sir Harry shrugged. “Many ladies amuse themselves with embroidery and watercolors and the like. I think art is a fine pastime.”
“Lara tells me Fiona has won several judged competitions,” Miles said. “I quite agree with Rory about her ability.”
“Fiona’s always had a knack for the creative.” The note of pride in Mrs. Robinson’s voice was evident. “Nobody in Blythe Village draws as well as she.”
With a chuckle, Sir Harry nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. Every woman should exhibit many talents.”
His disinterested reaction was somewhat disappointing, but perhaps Fiona was expecting too much. Nowadays, men and women often lived vastly different and separate lives. As Sir Harry’s wife, she would reside close enough to her parents to visit them frequently. And, as a married woman, she could even travel by herself to London and beyond. Freedom was an undeniable benefit of marriage that appealed to her very much, even if certain aspects of marriage to Sir Harry didn’t.
Her mother startled her from her reverie. “Fiona, shall we go through?”
“Oh. Yes, of course.”
A Gift for Fiona (The Love Letters Series Book 2) Page 8