“You want to spoil me.”
“I do, yes.”
“And I want to be annoyed with you for it. It pricks at my pride.” She looked down at the necklace. “But it would be foolish of me.”
“That, Winnefred, is my very point. When you can turn away an expensive piece of jewelry without feeling like a fool, then I will curtail my gifting habits.” He slipped the necklace from the box and handed her his cane. “Hold this a moment.”
Before she could ask what he meant to do, he’d stepped behind her and reached around to settle the pearls and diamond against her throat. She barely registered the weight of the jewels on her skin. It was impossible to think of anything but how close he was standing. She felt the warmth of his breath against her hair and the brush of his wrists across her shoulders. Heat and a giddy sense of anticipation gathered in her chest then spread out in waves, until she was certain every inch of her was flushed. She wanted to turn around and tilt her face up to his, but Rebecca was still in the sitting room. And all too soon, the necklace was secured and Gideon was stepping away.
“Perfect,” Gideon announced when she turned around. “Now for these.”
To her astonishment, he pulled another box from his pocket and revealed a set of sapphire earrings.
“More jewelry?” Without thought, she reached out to touch.
Gideon pulled his hand away. “Becoming greedy already? That’s a fine start.” He snapped the box shut. “But they’re not for you.”
“Not for me? But . . .” She looked up and saw the familiar twinkle in his eyes. “For Lilly?”
“Indeed. Would you like to give them to her?”
She would have rather kissed him, but as alternatives went, presenting Lilly with sapphires wasn’t half bad.
“Go on, then,” Gideon urged. He handed her the box. “I’ll meet you downstairs when it’s time to leave.”
Gideon watched Winnefred leave the room with sapphires in hand and asked himself, as he had a dozen times a day for the last week—
What the devil am I doing?
The answer was always the same. He was torturing himself.
There was no other possible explanation, no other plausible reason he could give for why he had ceased trying so hard to avoid Winnefred and had even begun to seek her out.
Why else had he not set his foot down when his aunt had insisted he be present for every lesson and shopping trip? Why else would he hand deliver a string of pearls to her chambers if not to see her, knowing he couldn’t have her? It hadn’t been necessary for him to pick out her gowns at the modiste’s either. His aunt could have managed, and Winnefred hadn’t cared one way or the other. It certainly wasn’t necessary that he sit in the high-back chair in the library every night simply because Winnefred always sat on the green settee and the high back chair afforded him the best view of her profile.
It was absurd, and it was the trip from Scotland that was to blame. He’d grown used to being able to talk to her anytime he wanted, and feeling the warmth of her pressed against his side, and seeing the details of her face with just the slightest turn of his head. He’d become so accustomed to having her there, right there next to him, that he found he could no longer go the day without needing to see her. Even the space of a few hours made him feel restless and dissatisfied.
The two days she had spent recovering in her chambers had been hell. Another day and he would have . . .
He shook his head and dragged a hand down his face. He’d not have made it another day.
And what did it matter that he couldn’t go a day now?
There was nothing unseemly in his behavior toward Winnefred. Admittedly, he had a fair number of unseemly thoughts toward Winnefred, but a man couldn’t be held responsible for a few—very well, quite a few—erotic daydreams.
Nothing he was doing harmed her. Nor did any of it threaten his independence from responsibility. So, he stared a bit. A man was entitled to look. And he brought her trinkets from time to time. There was no harm in that. The woman needed spoiling—the Engsly estate owed the woman a bit of spoiling—and a gentleman could present gifts to a lady without becoming responsible for her. Too many gifts, or the wrong sorts of gifts, and he was honor bound to present an offer of marriage, but that didn’t apply to wards and guardians.
The irony of using his questionable role of guardian as an argument against his responsibility for Winnefred was something he chose not to examine too closely.
He preferred to concentrate on his future plans. It would be months before the season was over, months before he would have to let Winnefred go, and if he was determined to spend that time torturing himself, so be it. He would stare, and buy her diamonds and pearls, and imagine her wearing them with nothing else. And he would do it as damn well often as he liked.
He tapped his cane against the side of his foot as a slow, determined smile spread across his face. If he was going to spend the next several months in torment, then he was bloody well going to enjoy it.
“Would you care to explain what you are doing in Miss Blythe’s bedchambers, nephew?”
Gideon’s head snapped up at the sound of his aunt’s voice in the doorway. “Er . . . Just woolgathering. And now leaving.”
“Not so quickly, if you please.” Lady Gwen stepped into the room with a soft rustle of gold silk.
“Rebecca is in the sitting room,” Gideon explained. “And Winnefred is with Lilly.”
“Yes. I’ve just come from Miss Ilestone’s chambers, where I was informed by Miss Blythe that she has no interest in obtaining a match this season.”
He ignored her less-than-subtle reminder of her distaste for his use of first names. “Yes, I know.”
“I presume this is the reason you were so adamant in your letters from Scotland that a dowry not be arranged?”
He gave a small shrug. “I see no point in making her a target for fortune hunters.”
“There is still Miss Ilestone to match,” she reminded him.
“Your expertise may not be needed in the case of Miss Ilestone.” Because he wanted to draw the moment out, he leaned forward slowly before whispering, “She is Lucien’s Rose.”
It was a rare thing indeed to see the rigidly composed Lady Gwen visibly taken aback. Generally speaking, it was also a very brief thing. Lady Gwen’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped opened in astonishment, but only for a moment. “Good heavens. Does he know?”
“I sent a letter to Italy. But I’ve not yet heard word back.”
“Well.” Lady Gwen tilted her head a little in thought. “It is possible Lucien has gone elsewhere in search of your stepmother. The letter may have missed him.”
“It may have. In any event, he’ll hear the news sooner or later.” He pictured his brother reading the letter and smiled. “I’m happy for him.”
“I am as well,” Lady Gwen replied, before adding, “And irritated with you. You led me to believe Miss Blythe and Miss Ilestone were in need of my assistance.”
“They are,” he assured her. “Everyone is in need of your assistance, aunt. England would be a much finer place altogether if its people had the sense to fall in line with your opinions.”
“Oh, rubbish.” She studied him with suspicious eyes. “What other secrets are you keeping from me?”
“None from you. But since we are on the matter of secrets—Winnefred is under the impression she will be running Murdoch House on her own, and with strict financial restrictions. I would appreciate it if you said nothing to dissuade her of this notion.”
“You wish for her to struggle and worry?”
“I wish to give her what she wants. She wants to work to make Murdoch House a success. She takes great pleasure in seeing the rewards of her labors, and I’ll not rob her of that pleasure by robbing her of the work.”
“But you mean to see she does not fail,” Lady Gwen guessed.
“The amount of ten thousand pounds has been put aside in the event it becomes needed.” He thought about that. �
�It won’t be.”
“Such faith in the woman,” she said quietly.
“I have seen what she is capable of.”
“I ought to reprimand you for encouraging your brother’s ward to engage in such crass pursuits.”
“But you won’t,” he guessed with a patronizing smile, “because you’re fond of her.”
Lady Gwen made a small scoffing noise in the back of her throat. “You ascribe a generosity I do not possess. I barely know the chit. It is you of whom I am fond. It is you I wish to see happy. Miss Blythe is nothing more to me than a possible avenue to your well-being.”
“An avenue to my well-being? That’s absurd.”
“I have not seen you take such interest in and care for anyone or anything since before the war.”
An uncomfortable knot formed between his shoulder blades. “My interests and cares have not changed.”
“Deny it if you will, but remember that it is a dangerous game you play, nephew. Miss Blythe is an unmarried woman in possession of a clever mind, stubborn nature, and some very unusual ideas.” She straightened a little, as if surprised by her own words. “Well. Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I am fond of her after all.”
Chapter 27
According to Lilly and Lady Gwen, Lady Powler’s parties were neither the most extravagant nor the most fashionable events the London season had to offer. But to Winnefred, Lady Powler’s ball looked a very grand affair indeed. Everywhere she turned she saw silk and jewelry, crystal chandeliers and gilded candelabras. And food, she thought, biting into a delightful confection of cake and strawberries she’d discovered at the refreshment table. There was more food present than she had seen in her life. The lively strains of a reel floated from the second-level gallery while the guests below danced and laughed and wandered about the enormous room in search of friends or introductions.
Despite her lingering nervousness, she had to admit that—the obvious wastefulness of it all notwithstanding—it was a rather pretty scene. Which was to be appreciated, because she and Lilly had done little more than stare at it for the last half hour.
Winnefred gave a quick look over her shoulder to be certain she wouldn’t be overheard before leaning in her chair to speak with Lilly. “I did not agree to travel hundreds of miles just to watch you turn down opportunities to dance.”
“I’ll not leave you here alone,” Lilly returned, calmly smoothing a hand over the skirts of her pale blue dress. She looked so lovely tonight, Winnefred thought. Absolutely beautiful. And more than one gentleman had taken notice.
“Lady Gwen is not ten feet away.” She nodded her chin to where their chaperone was immersed in a conversation with a group of ladies her own age.
Gideon had been pulled into the card room by Lord Powler almost immediately upon their arrival, but Lady Gwen had remained in their company longer, making introductions and settling them in a quiet spot at the edge of the ballroom. Several gentlemen had since requested Lilly’s hand for a dance. And Winnefred had watched her graciously turn down each and every one.
It was maddening.
She leaned a little closer. “I swear to you, Lilly, if you do not accept the next offer to dance, I will make such a scene that Lady Gwen will have no choice but to send us packing back to Scotland this very night.”
“You wouldn’t.”
No, she wouldn’t, but because it was imperative Lilly believe otherwise, Winnefred finished off the last of her treat, brushed off her hands, and sat back in the chair. Then she gave Lilly the same imposing look she had employed with Gideon when he had threatened to lock her in her chambers at Murdoch House.
“Do you remember the little ditty I learned at the prison?”
Lilly accepted the next offer.
And as Winnefred watched her friend being led to the dance floor it occurred to her that, aside from having to bully Lilly into enjoying herself, and the brief moment upon entering the ballroom in which she seriously contemplated bolting back out again, the night was going remarkably well. To the best of her knowledge, she’d not yet made a single egregious error of manners. True, her glowing description of the Scottish countryside had been met with raised brows by the young ladies who had sat with them for a time. And probably, she should not have mentioned the specifics of her illness to the gentleman who had inquired after her trip to London. No one, however, had appeared to be overtly offended by, or even unduly interested in, her minor slips.
How silly she had been to imagine she would be the center of attention, that every guest would be watching her, meticulously appraising her every word and move.
Evidently, in the eyes of society, she was just another woman come to town. True, her connection to Lord Englsy made her a person of mild interest, but she wasn’t a great beauty, an heiress, or even a legitimate member of the Haverston family. In short, she wasn’t the sort of woman who warranted the ton’s close inspection.
For the second time in her life, Winnefred was grateful for being the sort of woman others found easy to dismiss.
Better to be forgotten than despised, she thought.
And so much better to have her inadequacies ignored than have them reflect poorly on the people she cared about. All she had to do was refrain from any sort of behavior that was so monstrously inappropriate it couldn’t possibly be overlooked—which she was almost certain she could manage—and Lilly would have her successful season.
She could feel herself smiling, then smiling broader when she caught sight of Gideon exiting the card room.
And when he is not about, do you miss him?
Apparently, she missed him even when he was only a room away.
She wanted to leave her little corner of the ballroom so she could go and tell him of the happy realization she’d come to about her visit to London, and how she had bluffed Lilly into dancing, and every detail of everything else that had occurred since they’d spoken last.
She decided she also wanted to reach up, take his face in her hands, and bring his dark head down for a nice long kiss, because, really, if she was going to indulge in ridiculous fantasies, they might as well be good.
Amused by the picture in her head of a well-kissed Gideon being forced to listen to every thought that had crossed her mind in the last half hour, she waited, almost patiently, for him to spot her through the crowd and make his way across the room.
“Miss Blythe,” he said, bowing low, “May I interest you in a turn about the room?”
She rose to take his arm. “A turn would be lovely, my lord, thank you.”
Gideon grinned at her as he led her away. “You look happy.”
“Oh, I am.” She gripped his arm tighter in her excitement. “Have you seen Lilly? She was dancing a moment ago. Plus, it’s been near to an hour and I haven’t scalded anyone, or offended anyone, or spilled anything. I can’t remember the name of the lady in the bronze gown next to the potted palm, but she doesn’t know that.”
“Mrs. Carlisle.”
“Ah.”
“You won’t be dining on my raw heart, then?”
“Not tonight,” she said cheerfully.
Almost immediately, she wondered if she’d spoken too soon. A round of tittering came from the small group of women that had drawn Lilly into conversation after she’d left the dance floor. Tittering was never a good sign. She steered Gideon closer, but he held her back when she would have steered him directly into the group.
“Have a little faith in your friend,” he advised and pulled her just far enough away to listen in without being noticed.
“A very interesting choice of gown, Miss Ilestone,” one of the girl’s chimed. She tossed a quick, feline smile at her friends. “That style must be all the rage in rural Scotland because, I vow, I have never seen the like.”
Fuming, Winnefred took a step forward with the vague and—she would admit later—ill-advised notion of breaking a nearby flowerpot over the brat’s head.
Gideon grabbed her arm and shifted to block the view of his hold
on her from the rest of the room. “Faith, Winnefred.”
Clearly unaware of the scene taking place off to the side, Lilly tilted her head just a hair, smiled ever so sweetly, and patted the girl’s arm in a sympathetic manner. “Of course you haven’t, Miss Drayburn. It is a creation of Madame Fayette’s. And she is a little particular in her choice of patrons.”
The tittering stopped. Miss Drayburn opened her mouth but failed to produce anything beyond a splutter.
“But have no fear,” Lilly continued, letting her hand fall. “We can be certain Madame Fayette will not hear of the slip from your friends. Now, do excuse me. I am promised for the next dance.”
Winnefred watched as Lilly turned and walked away, a smug smile lighting her features. No, not just smug, but amused.
Gideon released her arm. “You see?”
“Lilly enjoyed that,” she whispered.
“Does that bother you?”
“No, of course not. I’m just . . . I’d worried someone might be unkind to her. I never thought she’d like it.”
“She liked winning,” Gideon corrected. His eyes tracked Lilly across the room. “She belongs here.”
Winnefred wanted to tell him he was wrong. Lilly belonged in Scotland with her. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back, knowing them to be a lie. Murdoch House may have been Lilly’s home for the last twelve years, but she’d never really belonged there. It had become increasingly clear over the last week that London was Lilly’s world.
“I think . . .” She swallowed past a dry lump in her throat and forced herself say aloud a fear she’d refused to acknowledge until now. “I think she means to stay.”
Gideon looked at her and frowned. “You’ve been here a week. This is one ball. You can’t guess at where Lilly will want to be months from now.”
“You just said she belonged here.”
“Amongst the ton, yes. But the ton only gathers in London twice a year. The other months are spent traveling or at country estates.”
Nearly a Lady (Haverston Family Trilogy #1) Page 23