A Midsummer's Kiss (Farthingale Series Book 4)

by Meara Platt

  “I wasn’t thinking about it. There will be no elopement. It isn’t going to hap—” She tried to finish her sentence, but the twins burst into their room, their mother and Hortensia following closely on their heels. They were all squealing and chattering at once. Laurel couldn’t make out what they were saying. “Good grief, are we living in the Tower of Babel?”

  Daisy, who was already dressed for this evening’s supper, took the momentary distraction as her opportunity to slip away downstairs. Laurel called out to her, but to no avail. She was left frustrated and forced to shout above the din. “Why are you all in here?”

  The twins were now on their knees, crawling along the carpet. Their mother and Hortensia were still shrieking and groaning and clutching their hearts.

  Laurel knew the twins had done something to throw them into a panic. “What is going on?”

  “Lily’s spider escaped again,” Dillie said. “We thought he might have wandered in here since that’s what he did the last time.”

  “I want that wretched thing out of the house!” their mother demanded in her sternest voice, which wasn’t stern at all. None of her daughters ever trembled in fear, because their mother was softhearted in the extreme. She might shout and threaten, but in the next breath, she’d be hugging them and telling them that she loved them with all her heart and would always love them no matter how sorely they tested her.

  “Ah, here he is!” Lily crawled out from under Laurel’s bed with a hairy, dark brown object squirming in her hand. “I’m sorry, Mother. I don’t know how Romulus managed to escape.” She plopped her pet tarantula back into the jar she’d brought with her.

  Her mother was still clutching her chest. “Frightening thing. Get rid of it. Do you hear me, Lily? That horrid creature must go.”

  Lily gave a disheartened nod.

  Dillie put a consoling arm about her shoulder. “We’ll find a good home for Romulus.”

  “Well, that’s done.” Hortensia stood there grinning. “Supper anyone? I think I just heard Pruitt ring the bell.”

  Laurel’s mother rolled her eyes. “Who can think of eating now?”

  Hortensia patted her rotund belly. “I can, as anyone can plainly see. Come along, girls. Do try to behave for your mother.”

  Although the twins had caused this latest mischief, Hortensia’s gaze was trained like a hawk’s on Laurel as she spoke. Laurel sighed.

  This is going to be a long night.

  Farthingale suppers were never quiet family affairs, because there were always too many Farthingales about. Tonight their table was set for thirty family members. Since she and Daisy were usually seated at opposite ends of the table, Laurel knew she would have no chance to talk to her during the meal.

  She decided to seek out Daisy as soon as she entered the dining room. Pausing at the doorway, she quickly spotted her sister standing off to the side engaged in conversation with their aunt Julia.

  Although Daisy tried to appear casual and unaffected, Laurel knew her too well and saw that she was still distressed.

  This was all her fault… again.

  When the supper bell rang, she waited for Daisy beside her chair. “Daisy, please—”

  “No, Laurel,” she said in a harsh whisper. “It isn’t me you who deserves the apology, but Lord Moray. You must tell him the truth.”

  “He does know the truth,” she replied, her voice also a whisper, “and he believes me. He trusts me. So should you.”

  The other family members were now taking their seats, so Laurel had no choice but to move away and take her place at the opposite end of the table. There were at least a dozen chattering Farthingales between them, and Laurel knew it was hopeless to catch her sister’s attention while they ate.

  Daisy refused to glance her way, instead spending most of the evening staring dejectedly into her elegant plate.

  Laurel couldn’t bear to see Daisy looking so hurt. She silently cursed that forged letter and silently berated herself for ever considering Anne a friend. The sight of Anne maliciously whispering lies in Daisy’s ear had made her ill. She still had a sour feeling about it.

  Daisy had also seen Devlin embracing her in that staged, apologetic reconciliation.

  Drat. She knew the events of this afternoon’s tea were now churning in her sister’s stomach.

  Laurel considered using her spoon to catapult a brussels sprout across the table and gain her attention, but the sprouts were heavily buttered and would ruin the delicate silk of Daisy’s new gown.

  Too bad.

  Perhaps she could just launch the spoon.

  “Laurel.” Uncle George’s voice cut through her schemes. Drat again. It seemed as though her uncle could read her thoughts as easily as if she’d printed them in the London newspapers. “Put down your spoon and tell me what’s wrong.”

  “It isn’t me,” she assured him. “Daisy is overset about something and I think it’s all my fault. It’s this betrothal business.”

  “So you considered hurling your spoon at her?” He arched a dark eyebrow and shot her a wry grin. “Is your aim that good? I’ll wager five pounds you’ll hit Hortensia instead.”

  Laurel smothered a giggle. “A lady never bets. Besides, you’re right. That feathery purple thing bobbing out of Aunt Hortensia’s hair is most distracting. If you must know, I’ve already decided to wait until after supper to draw Daisy aside.”

  “Care to tell me the rest of it?”

  She nodded, for her uncle could be trusted to keep her concerns in his confidence if she asked him. “But I need to speak to Daisy first.”

  “Very well, but I’m always available to talk to you girls. Don’t hesitate to ask.” He popped a buttered sprout into his mouth. “Mmm, delicious. Mrs. Mayhew has outdone herself this evening. Promise me, Laurel. I want you to come to me if you sense something is wrong. Don’t try to handle it yourself.”

  She frowned. “Don’t you think I’m capable of exercising good judgement? No, never mind. Please don’t answer the question, for it’s obvious I’m not.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Usually you are quite capable, but you did run down Baron Moray. It was an accident, I know. He’s obviously forgiven you.”

  “He’s been most accommodating in that regard. Devlin hasn’t been quite as understanding. He’s angry and terribly hurt about this betrothal business, and I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me.”

  “Has he said something to you?”

  She nodded. “But nothing to worry about.”

  “And what has he said to Daisy? Is that why she looks like she’s about to cry into her vegetables? Did the little bast—” He coughed and caught himself before he used an ungentlemanly epithet. “Did he say something to her? Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Nothing, Uncle George. You needn’t fear. Some silly gossip has been circulating that distressed Daisy. I’ll speak to her as soon as we ladies retire to the salon. As for me, I had an unpleasant encounter with Devlin. I tried to speak to him earlier today at the Duke of Lotheil’s celebration, but he was angry and still pouting.”

  “Pouting? Girls pout. Grown men seek revenge.”

  Laurel’s eyes rounded in alarm. “Not Devlin. He’d never hurt me or Daisy. I know he’s been sullen, but that’s only because his pride has been wounded. He’ll get over it and we’ll be friends once again.”

  “You know little about men and their true natures. We’re not kind or gentle like you and Daisy.”

  “You’re the kindest man I know, Uncle George. There isn’t a finer one, except perhaps Father.” She shook her head and sighed. “He must be a saint, for how else could he put up with his wayward daughters?”

  He laughed softly. “We’re kind to you because you’re family and we love you. But all men wear a thin mask of civility, even we sainted Farthingales. It’s only a mask, easily cast off.”

  “Well, Devlin hasn’t done a very good job of keeping his mask on. His hurt is so obvious it breaks my heart. But I’ve made my choice.
At least, I think I have. Are you suggesting that I shouldn’t trust Graelem either?”

  “Quite the opposite. In my opinion, he’s one of the few that you can trust. Now, tell me more about this afternoon.”

  “And Devlin?”

  He popped another sprout in his mouth and nodded.

  Laurel shook her head and sighed. “Very well, I suppose I could use some help. I think your assessment of Devlin is right. I’m finally noticing his spiteful nature. Daisy hasn’t noticed it yet. But more important, she heard something this afternoon that overset her. She thinks I’m going to run off with Devlin. I’m not, of course.”

  “Run away? As in elope with Devlin?”

  She nodded. “He asked me, but I dismissed the notion long ago. I don’t think Daisy believes me.” She glanced at her plate, and although the food looked tempting, she had no appetite for it. “Why don’t you like Devlin? In truth, you’ve never liked him. Have you? Pruitt hasn’t either.”

  “I can’t speak for Pruitt; however, I can tell you my reasons. You know what your father often tells you.”

  “Oh, that expression he has about the unchanging nature of people. That a petty, indulged child will turn into a spoiled, arrogant adult.”

  Her uncle nodded. “That’s right. I’m afraid Devlin has become one of those.”

  The possibility sincerely distressed her. “How do you mean? It’s important that I know his current situation.”

  “Devlin is a heavy gambler. I’ve seen him at the local gaming dens. I stop by on occasion to play cards or have a drink with friends, but he’s a regular at these establishments and he rarely wins.”

  Her fingers tightened around her fork. “Are you certain?”

  “Yes. He sinks deeper in debt with each passing day. His father has been quietly covering his losses, but I shudder to think what will happen to the Kirwood holdings once Devlin inherits them. It won’t take him long to destroy all that his father has built over the years.”

  She set down her fork with an inadvertent clatter as it lightly struck her delicate plate, realizing she’d been a fool to think that her friendship had ever meant anything to Devlin. “No wonder he was so overset about my sudden betrothal. He needs my wealth. His anger was never about me at all.”

  “Since we seem to be addressing this at the dinner table anyway, I’ll add my opinion. No, it was never about his caring for you. Even as a little boy, it was obvious that Devlin cared only for himself. But Baron Moray is another matter. His marriage proposal may have started as a business proposition, but it’s turned into something much more important to him. You have become much more important to him.”

  “How can you tell?”

  She studied her uncle’s expression as he responded. “Too many years without that important person in my own life,” he said with a mirthless smile. “What he feels for you is something to be treasured, Laurel.” He glanced down the table. “Hortensia and Rupert will tell you the same thing.”

  She wanted to reach over and hug her uncle, but knew it would embarrass him. “Did you love your wife very much? You’ve been a widower for a very long time. You rarely speak of her. Does it still hurt too much?”

  A glint of doubt sprang into his clear, Farthingale blue eyes. “We were quite young at the time and I believed myself in love. I think I was, but it’s been so long. It’s likely that as we grew older our love would have matured. William has inherited his mother’s liveliness and joyful temperament. Yes, I think ours would have become a love match.”

  “Thank you, Uncle George.” He’d never spoken about himself like this before, and she was honored that he trusted her enough to speak so candidly now.

  “Don’t demand perfection, Laurel. I love Hortensia, but sometimes I think her standards were too high. What has she gained by keeping to those impossible standards? No husband. No children. Sometimes I see a look of regret in her eyes, although most of the time she hides it. She isn’t unhappy, and for the most part she appears content, but life has passed her by and she knows it.”

  He paused to lift his glass and take a sip of wine. The red wine glistened in the candlelight like a deep red ruby within the crystal glass. “You aren’t anything like Hortensia. You won’t be happy if you hold fast to your standards and lose Graelem because of it. And I doubt you’ll look good in purple egret feathers.”

  She chuckled. “Purple was never a good color for me. I must agree with you on that point. I’ll talk to Graelem… Lord Moray. I know he won’t release me from our betrothal and I’m not happy about it, but I’m falling in love with him. I’ll willingly lose this battle because I think in time he’ll come to love me and that is much more important.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say so.”

  “But I’m still disappointed. I wanted to come to him of my own free will. It’s important to me.” Her lips curled up at the corners as she grinned. “He’ll have a lifetime to make it up to me. I won’t let him off easily.”

  George patted her hand. “He will. He’s a good man.”

  “So now, my problem is Daisy.”

  George followed her gaze. “Talk to her as soon as possible. I’ve never seen her in such turmoil before.”

  * * *

  Laurel wasn’t able to catch Daisy alone to speak to her after supper. She had just resigned herself to waiting until they retired for bed when Daisy strode toward her with her chin tipped upward and her expression cool. “I’m going to stay with Aunt Julia this evening. I think it’s for the best.”

  “I’ll help you pack a few things. We can talk while—”

  “No need.” Daisy gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Gladys will help me.”

  “There’s obviously a need.” She lightly took hold of Daisy’s elbow to prevent her from turning away. “Please, listen to me. Nothing is going on between me and Devlin. What you saw earlier was my attempt to salvage the friendship, but I know now that it can’t be done. At least, not at the moment. Perhaps in a few months, after I’m married and settled in.”

  “Married to Graelem?”

  “Of course. Who else would I marry? I love Graelem.”

  Daisy arched an eyebrow. “Oh, truly? Have you told him that?”

  Laurel felt her face begin to heat. She’d admitted her feelings to Graelem the night he was unconscious with fever and the effects of the laudanum, but that didn’t count since he hadn’t heard her. “Not in so many words.” Although she’d freely given him her body. “You know I haven’t yet. But I will.”

  “Why should I believe you? He’s the only one who needs to hear it and the only one you haven’t told.”

  Laurel released Daisy’s elbow and held her hands out in plaintive contrition. “Daisy, you don’t understand. It isn’t that simple.”

  “You’re wrong, Laurel. It is precisely that simple. You can’t tell Graelem you love him because you don’t really feel it. You’re still in love with Devlin.” She let out a ragged breath. “Love whomever you wish, but stop deceiving your own family, all of us who love you.”

  “Oh, Daisy,” she said in a soft, shattered moan.

  “What really hurts is how you used me. I can’t believe I allowed you to do it, serving as your messenger to deliver your scheming posts to Devlin.” Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away and continued. “Anne read one of those letters aloud to Graelem. He foolishly thought it was a forgery. I heard everything. He has such faith in you, it breaks my heart. I was next door and overheard everything. I know what you and Dev have planned. What the two of you are doing is underhanded, and if you don’t confess to Mother and Father, I will.”

  Laurel wanted to shake her sister in frustration. “There’s nothing to confess. I have never lied to you and never will. Come with me right now to speak to Graelem and we’ll sort it all out.”

  “No. Julia needs me. I’ll be back on Friday.”

  “But—”

  “Friday.”

  Laurel nodded. “Very well, we’ll talk when you return hom
e.”

  She’d hoped for a sign of softening from Daisy, but there was none. Instead, Daisy stiffened her spine and tipped her chin up. Laurel immediately recognized the posture because she’d used it all too often herself whenever she was indignant. “Right, Daisy? We must talk.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know if I will have forgiven you by then.”

  Chapter 17

  THE SUN WAS SHINING and a lovely, warm breeze caressed Laurel’s cheeks as she walked the short distance to Eloise’s townhouse the next morning. Chipping Way was a quiet street, so she often heard the larks and sparrows chirping in the trees. Their chirps often mingled with the din and clatter of passing carriages along the nearby main street.

  Those birds were in full song today.

  Their joyful song mirrored her own feelings and she had Daisy to thank for that. She’d thought about Daisy’s admonition and realized her sister had been right. She had to tell Graelem how she felt. Allowing his kisses and giving him permission to roam his hands freely over her body wasn’t enough. It was merely an admission of lust, not at all the same as telling him that she loved him.

  “I love you,” she murmured. These were powerful words, ones that Graelem needed to hear.

  She was about to walk through Eloise’s gate, now resolved to tell Graelem what was in her heart, when all of a sudden he appeared before her, moving with purposeful haste so that he almost bumped into her. “Graelem? I was just coming to see you. I know I’m a bit earlier than usual, but there’s something important I need to tell you and—”

  “Can it wait until later?” He was frowning and seemed to be in a hurry, although she had no idea where he might be going in such a rush, on his crutches no less.

  “I suppose.” She walked beside him, admiring the agility with which he got around on those crutches. “What’s wrong?”

  “It may be nothing. Probably is nothing, but Amos just sent word to me. He says Brutus is more skittish today than usual. I was going to see for myself, but I’m glad you’re here. No one knows that beast better than you do.”

  Laurel began to nibble her lip, already fretting over Brutus. She knew Graelem had been seeing to his proper care, allowing Amos to ride him each morning as well as properly feed and groom him each day. “Perhaps he misses me.”