“Oh, all right,” she called, as the maid disappeared into the dressing room. “But I’m still not wearing any padding in my bosom!”
Edie returned her attention to the mirror and pushed a few frizzy curls off her forehead. “No need to take things that far.”
Chapter 17
WHEN EDIE CAME down, Stuart was the only one in the drawing room. He was sipping a glass of sherry and studying the watercolors Joanna had done earlier in the day, which were laid out on a table by the piano.
He looked up as she came in and smiled at once. “How pretty you look.”
She stopped by the door and ducked her head, suddenly self-conscious. “It was Reeves’s doing,” she said, and fiddled with the shimmery blue skirt. “She seemed to think a duke home from the wilds of Africa deserved a wife in a pretty dress to look at across the table.”
He laughed. “I wholeheartedly concur. We ought to give that woman a raise.”
A thought struck her, and she looked up again, suspicious. “You didn’t put her up to it, did you?”
“To what? You in a pretty dress with a delightfully low neckline?” He grinned. “No, but deuce take it, I wish I had. On second thought,” he added, tilting his head to study her as she crossed the room toward him, “perhaps not. I fear that neckline shall prove far too distracting for my peace of mind.”
“If Reeves had gotten her way, I might believe you about that.” She gave him a wry look as she paused beside him. “She suggested I should put padding in it.”
“Did she?” He took a sip of sherry and turned toward her. “Whatever for?”
“To entice you, of course.”
His gaze slid downward, then back up. “You don’t need any padding to do that, Edie.”
“Well, I told her no, anyway, so there we are.” She gestured to the table and veered the conversation onto ground far safer than her bosom. “You’re looking at Joanna’s pictures, I see.”
“If you want to entice me, Edie,” he murmured, “I can tell you far more effective ways than padding your bosom.”
A tingle of excitement ran through her—up her legs, along her spine, and up to the back of her neck, a heady sensation. She quivered inside, but not with fear. Instead, she felt as if there were a hundred butterflies fluttering inside her stomach. Desperate, she forced herself so say something. “I shouldn’t wish to be a tease. To . . . to lead you on.”
He smiled. “That’s my lookout, not yours.”
She considered that, doubtful. “There are some men who would disagree.”
His smile vanished. “Then they are worthless curs, not men.”
She looked into his eyes, saw the tenderness there, and a sudden sob of gladness pushed up against her chest. She caught it back. How absurd, she thought wildly, to want to cry at such a moment. “Yes,” she managed. “They are.”
He drew a breath and gestured to the glass in his hand. “I’m having sherry. Would you care for one?”
She grasped at the change of subject and the offer of a drink at once, feeling in need of both right now. “Yes, thank you.”
She returned her attention to the paintings as he poured a sherry for her. “Your sister has great talent,” he said as he brought it to her.
“She does.” Edie took the glass he offered and gestured to the wall. “You’ve seen her painting of your butterfly.”
“Yes, of course. I think she’s shown me every one of her paintings by now. It will be interesting to see how she’ll paint that piece of driftwood we hauled home today.”
“It will be something brilliant. I speak as her very proud sister, of course.”
“No, I think you speak as a very discerning critic of art.”
They both laughed as they turned to study the watercolors. “Willowbank is a fine school for arts, Edie,” he said after a moment. “No doubt, that’s why you chose it. She ought to go.”
Edie stared at one of the paintings, noting the exquisite lines of sand and grass, and a skewed angle of the sky that made it uniquely Joanna. “She doesn’t want to go.”
“But she needs to go. You know that as well as I do. You were ready to send her off, and I realize I’m the reason you haven’t done so.”
“No, you were just the excuse.” She sighed. “The truth is I just haven’t wanted to send her away. I’ve put it off far too long, I know, but we’ve never been separated, except for that month after you and I were married and Daddy took her to Paris. And I hate the idea of having her out of my sight. If anything were to happen—”
“They will chaperone her every minute, Edie.”
“I know, I know. And you’re right. The day you arrived home from Africa, I’d finally worked up the nerve to send her, but then, when she jumped off the train and came home, it was such a relief to put the whole thing off again and keep her with me a bit longer.”
“You’ll miss her terribly, no doubt. But that’s what school holidays are for.”
As he spoke, Edie realized that it wasn’t just about missing Joanna or her need to watch over her sister that lay at the heart of her reluctance to send her away. It was also the idea of being alone here at Highclyffe that had always made it so hard. Joanna’s absence would have brought home to her the loneliness of her life. The loneliness of being an independent woman who ran charities and built gardens to keep herself busy, who knew that unless she constantly entertained guests, she would have to eat her meals in the ducal dining room alone and picnic at the Wash by herself.
Everything was different now, of course. Regardless of what happened in the next five days, she would never live alone at Highclyffe. She might be living alone elsewhere, but not here. “I don’t know if I want her to go to Willowbank. I don’t . . . I don’t know where I’ll be living, and I want to be near her. Until things are settled with us, I don’t think I should commit her to a particular school.”
He was silent for a moment, then he nodded and gave a little cough. “Yes, of course. Still, Willowbank’s in Kent, so . . . it’s easy to reach from . . . from London. Europe, too, if you . . . chose to live there.” He spoke slowly, his frequent pauses making it seem as if he had difficulty with getting the words out. He looked away. “If you were to go back to New York,” he said, his voice a tight whisper, “that might be different. It’s so far away.”
He would miss her, she thought. He wanted a real wife, children, all that, of course. He wanted her, too, she knew that. But the idea that he might desire her company, that he would miss her if she was gone, was a sudden and startling realization. “I was never going back to New York,” she blurted out. “That was just a bluff to throw you off if I decided to run away.”
“What?” He turned his head to stare at her, clearly astonished. “Quite a convincing bluff,” he murmured after a moment, studying her face. “You bought passage, if I recall.”
She shrugged. “Yes, well, a bluff ought to be convincing. And I could afford it.”
“You are the most surprising woman, Edie. Every time I think I know what you’re about, you confound me again.”
“I was panicked. I didn’t know what you intended, if you were going to . . . to force me, or drag me home, or . . .” Now she seemed to be the one who had difficulty saying things. She drew a deep breath. “But I would never go back to New York. Never. I couldn’t. I would see . . . him . . . see that smirk on his face—”
She broke off abruptly, watching his mouth tighten to a thin, grim line.
“He will pay, Edie. I promise you, he will pay.”
She smiled a little. “Again, it’s very gallant of you to offer vengeance on my behalf, but it doesn’t matter. The damage is done. It’s over.”
“Is it? There might be—” He stopped abruptly and shook his head. “Never mind. How did we move onto this ghastly topic? We were discussing Joanna and her art.” He took a deep breath. “As I was saying,
Willowbank is very conveniently located, and just the right school for her talents. If you are not intending to return to New York, then it is still the best school for her, at least in England. And no matter what happens between us, there is no reason why you can’t remain in England. You don’t have to go running off to France or Italy to escape me.”
“I know that now. And I would prefer to stay in England. It’s home to me now. As for Joanna . . .” She paused and took a deep breath. “You’re right, of course. I’ll . . . I’ll break it to her after dinner.”
She started to turn away, but his voice stopped her. “Don’t do it yet. Rather than order her to go, it might be best if she wants to go, don’t you think?” He grinned. “That way, she won’t leap off the train at the last minute, or refuse to write you, or smoke cigarettes, cause trouble, and get herself sent down.”
Edie laughed. “That’s right, you overheard our conversation about it all on the train platform. I’d forgotten about that.”
“Do you agree?”
“Of course, but she’s adamantly opposed to going. How on earth shall you persuade her?”
“Leave that to me. My campaign begins over dinner.”
IF EDIE HAD any doubts about Stuart’s ability to change Joanna’s mind about school, by the end of dinner, those doubts were gone. Females, she ought to know by now, were wax in his hands.
He started his campaign by mentioning to Mrs. Simmons his tour of Italy when he was twenty-one. Mrs. Simmons, a great lover of art, had also been to Italy, and through the first six courses of the meal, the two of them discussed the exquisite paintings within the Vatican’s Sistine Chapel, Venice’s picturesque canals, Florence’s Ponte Vecchio and Pitti Palace, and the breathtaking beauty of the Tuscan countryside. Joanna listened with avid interest and asked dozens of questions, but since Willowbank was in Kent, not Italy, Edie saw no point to this Italian tour.
Until dessert.
“Oh, I would love to go to Italy.” Joanna fell back in her chair with a dreamy sigh.
“Indeed?” Stuart turned to the girl in surprise. “I never would have thought you’d want to go there, Joanna.”
“Are you joking?” The girl stared at him as if he were the most hopelessly dim-witted person in the world. “It would be like a dream come true. Think of the landscapes I could paint there! How could you ever think I wouldn’t want to go to Italy?”
“Because you don’t want to go to Willowbank, of course.” Stuart paused, frowning as if confounded. “Therefore, I assumed you had no interest in going to Italy either.”
Joanna wasn’t the only one who looked at him in bewilderment. Mrs. Simmons looked equally confused, and even Edie, who knew his intentions, was baffled as well.
“What does Willowbank have to do with Italy?” Joanna asked.
“It hardly matters, since you’re not going.” He paused for a sip of wine. “But Mrs. Calloway is intending to take a group of her most talented second-year pupils to Italy next autumn.”
“What?” Joanna was aghast. She was not the only one.
“I didn’t know of any such tour,” Edie said, and looked at Mrs. Simmons. “Did you?”
“No, indeed,” the governess answered. “Mrs. Calloway is a great admirer of the Masters, of course, and all the girls at Willowbank learn to study their techniques, but I know nothing of this Italian business.”
“She’s wanted to do it for several years, apparently,” Stuart told them. “But they’ve been in need of a sponsor. She heard I was home, and she wrote to me, asking if I’d do it. Apparently, she feels that a duke would lend a certain cachet to the whole thing, and since Joanna was going there, she thought I might be amenable to the idea. I shall be happy to sponsor their trip, of course.”
“But you can’t!” Joanna cried, her fork clattering to her plate. “You can’t sponsor other girls going to Italy and not me.”
“Joanna!” Edie reproved. “There is no need to rattle the silver and be impertinent.”
“It’s all right, Edie,” Stuart said. “It’s bound to be a bit shattering to know other girls will be taking her place on a trip to Italy.” He turned to Joanna. “Petal, I’m sorry you won’t be going, but I see no reason to deprive other talented young ladies of their chance to paint the Tuscan countryside and study the works of Michelangelo because you don’t want to do so.”
He took another sip of wine and resumed eating his blackberry tart and cream.
“But—but—but—” Joanna’s voice stuttered into silence, and Edie almost felt sorry for her. Not since she was a little girl had Joanna looked so much like she wanted to cry.
Edie continued eating dessert, but she watched Joanna out of the corner of her eye, and when she saw the girl bite down on her lip, just the same way she did when she was in a state of agonizing indecision, she knew Joanna was wavering, and she wasn’t surprised when the girl turned to her.
“Edie, is it too late for me to go to Willowbank?”
“No.” Edie looked across at Stuart, who leaned back with his wine, giving her a wink over his glass. “Of course it’s not too late.”
THE AUGUST LILIES were blooming. Edie knew that because the luscious scent of the flowers wafted through the open French doors as she and the others walked down the corridor toward the music room after dinner, and she almost regretted that their day at the Wash had prevented her from taking the usual evening walk with Stuart. The gardens smelled lovely.
Stuart seemed to read her thoughts. “Lovely night,” he commented. “Perfect for a stroll.”
“Yes,” she agreed, smiling at him over her shoulder as she walked through the doorway of the music room. “Such a pity it’s not a full moon.”
But the moment she entered the music room, Edie realized that if they wanted to go for a walk in the grounds, no moonlight would be necessary. Through the French doors, she could see lanterns, dozens of them, their lights flickering in a line along the terrace and forming a serpentine trail through the gardens beyond. She stopped just inside the door with a cry of amazement. “Stuart!”
He stopped behind her. “Who needs a full moon?” he murmured. “I instructed Wellesley to arrange it all before we left this morning. Do you like it?”
“Like it?” She laughed, delighted, and once again looked at him over her shoulder. “It’s wonderful!”
He didn’t smile, but he didn’t have to for her to know she’d pleased him. She saw it in his eyes.
“What’s wonderful?” Joanna asked behind them. “And why are you two blocking the doorway?”
Edie moved into the room, allowing Joanna and Mrs. Simmons to also see what he’d done, then she started out to the terrace, with Stuart beside her.
“Oooh,” Joanna breathed, following them outside. “It looks magical, doesn’t it? Like something out of a fairy story.”
“Yes, it does.” Edie laughed again and looked at Stuart. “Now we can go for our walk after all.”
He gestured to the stone steps nearby. “Shall we, Edie?” he asked, and the soft question and the look in his eyes as he asked it made her catch her breath.
“Yes,” she said, and moved toward him. “Let’s go.”
“Can I come, too?” Joanna asked.
“No,” she and Stuart answered at the same time, and she knew both of them had the same reason for refusing Joanna’s request. Leaving the girl staring wistfully after them, they started down the lanternlit path.
“We forgot Snuffles,” Stuart commented, as they entered the rose garden. “He’s still below stairs somewhere.”
“He can miss his walk this once.” She looked around. “Joanna’s right. The lanterns do make everything look magical.”
“Poor girl,” he said, laughing. “Did you see her face when we said she couldn’t come with us? She looked like a wounded puppy.”
“The other was worse,” Edie r
eminded. “When she learned she wouldn’t be going to Italy because she wasn’t going to Willowbank. Really, Stuart,” she added, trying to sound severe and failing completely, “Mrs. Calloway taking pupils to Italy, indeed! And don’t tell me she wrote to you, for I shan’t believe it.”
“She didn’t.” He gave her a sideways smile. “But don’t you dare give me away.”
“I won’t, but what do you intend to do about Italy?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? They’ll have to go.”
“All that to persuade my sister that she wants to go away to school! You are so outlandish.”
“But you like it, Edie. Admit it, you like it.”
“I suppose I do. Perhaps it’s because I never do anything outlandish that I like it when you do.”
They entered the Secret Garden, and she found her accusation of his outlandishness proved yet again, for lanterns had been placed all around the fountain, giving the white marble statue of three sisters and the water that poured over them a magical glow. “You see?” she said, laughing. “That is just what I mean. I suppose you told Wellesley to have the footmen place the lights just where they would illuminate the fountain perfectly.”
“I did.” He stopped beside the fountain. When she stopped beside him, he turned toward her and reached out to touch a fold of her skirt, rubbing shimmery blue silk between his fingers. “I like this dress,” he said. “Or, rather, I like you in this dress.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes, indeed. Did you wear blue because it’s my favorite color? Say yes,” he added when she hesitated, smiling a little. “Throw me a crumb.”
She laughed. “All right, yes,” she admitted. “I did.”
His smile faded and he let go of the silk. He lifted his hand to the exposed skin above the low neckline of her dress but he didn’t touch her. Instead, he paused, fingertips a hairsbreadth from her skin. He looked into her eyes.
“I’m thinking right now how much I want to touch you.” He paused. “If I do, would that be all right?”
How to Lose a Duke in Ten Days Page 24