I shook my head. I would not inconvenience him further. “Mr. Windham, I can walk just as well as you. I cannot take Napoleon.”
Elliot wafted his hand in my direction. “It is pointless to debate Simon. I already tried, as I am the host of this party.”
Mr. Windham dipped his chin. “Elliot is right. I have already decided on it. I promise you that despite Napoleon’s attentions to Duchess in the stables, he is quiet under saddle.”
For once, I felt as speechless as my younger sister Juliet. Well aware of my situation, I detested being the recipient of another’s charity. I appreciated the kindness—there was no doubt about that, but was my entire existence at Haven’s Landing to be one as the lowly stationed, forever at the mercy of another? Anna’s dresses and trinkets were humbling enough, even the invitation to come, but seeing gentlemen feel obligated to assist me…I cringed.
The rain continued to pour in a torrential fashion, straining through the trees to mere drizzles. Then, as quickly as the storm had come, it left. The clouds parted, birds once more sang, and the only evidence of its wake presented itself in the four of us and our soaked clothing.
The groom traded my borrowed side saddle for Mr. Windham’s saddle. Once again, Mr. Windham was at my side, assisting me into the same saddle on a much larger horse. Though, there was comfort to be gained from the thickness of Napoleon’s neck and the broadness of his shoulders.
Napoleon resisted me, tossing his head and stopping or dancing sideways, but after a few minutes, the horse allowed me to ride him, as long as Mr. Windham led him by the rein. Elliot and Mary kept a slow pace, stopping every now and again to wait for me and Mr. Windham as he walked. They’d once again drawn ahead, leaving us nearly alone.
My silence seemed to unnerve Mr. Windham, and he tried more than a few times to ignite conversation with questions. I answered politely, but finally felt it my duty to acknowledge his charity.
“I am a physician’s daughter, as you must know.” I was not ashamed of anything, but a season had informed me that others cared about such things—men and women with the attitude and disposition of Mr. Sheffield. I cleared my throat. “You must not feel obligated to act the part of a gentleman around me.”
His feet froze, and the horse quickly followed suit. Mr. Windham carried his hat with his free hand, and much of the water had already dried from his hair. “A gentleman is a gentleman around every lady, privileged or not, Miss Kinsley.” He peered up at me, his disheveled hair making him more handsome than usual. “Besides, I rather jumped at the idea of getting a moment with you. I still have many questions.”
After how I’d behaved in front of him so far, he clearly would always act the gentleman no matter the situation or company.
“Ask them then, by all means.”
“I wanted to learn of your home. Where is it again—Flamborough Head?”
I nodded, and my lips lifted. Did anyone speak of their home without smiling? “Flamborough Head, but Bridlington specifically. Imagine a quiet town, full of fishermen and the occasional shipwreck washed ashore.”
“Sounds lovely.”
I sighed, though I did not know if I missed Bridlington or my childhood more. “I will always prefer the seaside as a consequence.”
He seemed to contemplate my words, walking beside Napoleon once more. We spoke of my father’s work, the tides and waves, my sisters, and the world of Bridlington. Words flowed easier than I was accustomed to. He listened, and he questioned.
“And you?” I asked at last, when a moment of silence settled between us.
He startled. “Me?”
His distraction brought another smile to my lips. Most men were far too eager to speak about themselves. “Your home, Mr. Windham.”
“Oh, that.” His voice grew quieter, and he began to tell the story of his upbringing—a life full of outdoor adventures and friendship with Elliot, a life of privilege and prestige, and a life of strained relationships with his parents. How he both loved and disliked his two years in Europe. How he was both loathe and thrilled to be home.
We reached the stables, and Mr. Windham assisted me to the ground once more. The same attraction as before plagued me. I detested how my body rebelled against my orders.
For a moment, we stood close, our gazes locked, his hands slowly slipping from my waist where he had helped me down. A small scoff escaped his lips and he stepped back, once again putting a proper distance between us.
“I love my home,” he said, holding my gaze in a way that made me believe he considered us friends, equals of some sort—however impossible. “But I should be glad to leave it and find my own.”
“Oh.” My words came out breathless, ridiculous. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, pulling my attention back to the estate looming just outside the stables.
His hand grazed my shoulder, and his eyes flickered with mischief. “I did enjoy that ride, thrown shoe and all.”
My mouth flew open. “Then you like seeing me, or should I say Duchess, in distress?”
Laughter spread between us, threatening to swallow us both. How I adored his laugh.
A carriage rolled across the main drive, and Mr. Windham immediately grew silent. His shoulders stiffened. Mr. and Mrs. Somerville stood on the entrance steps, waving at the faceless shadows through the glass. Anna, standing just behind her mother, beamed from her position.
“More guests?” I asked, brushing a bare hand over my muddied habit. “I thought everyone had arrived.”
He shook his head, putting a few more feet between us. Gone were his smiles. Gone was the easiness and lightness of moments earlier. His jaw set. “My mother and grandmother.”
“Oh.” I took in a breath, but there was no air to be found. “I had not known they were coming already.”
“Neither did I.” The words came out flat and dry.
We stood there, silently, watching as the footman handed out a distinguished woman with auburn hair. The woman had not dressed for travel, wearing a striped navy and white gown. Her lips spread into a smile as she turned to wave at Mr. Windham. “Simon, dear.”
He lifted a hand, stopping midair.
His mother’s expression quickly tripped into an unmistakable frown. Her gaze trailed my entire length, resting on my dirtied and bare hands.
Mrs. Somerville was quickly at her side, grasping the woman’s hand in her own. “Elizabeth, I am so grateful you have come.”
The footman handed down a second figure, but this one was slighter than most, curved at the spine, and nearly as pale as the pile of white hair peeking from the dark mobcap. The wrinkles of her face rested in a ripple around her shriveled lips.
“Mrs. Augusta Lovell,” Mr. Windham whispered. “My grandmother.”
Anna flitted down the steps, the ringlets hanging down one side bouncing as prettily as her lace hem. She kissed both women on the cheek, the older of which giggled profusely. “Mrs. Windham, Mrs. Lovell, welcome to Haven’s Landing.”
Mrs. Windham fawned over Anna, grasping at her hands and then pinching one of her cheeks. I could not discern, but from Anna’s giggles and modest smiles, I imagined compliments exchanged.
With each passing moment, Mr. Windham tensed more. His hands rested in fists at his sides, and he did not move toward his mother and grandmother. Instead, he stood frozen in place.
“Isabelle.” Anna had dressed in a stunning afternoon dress of pale yellow. The lace near the bodice framed her perfect figure, and the faint smell of hyacinth caught my attention.
Anna’s lively tone startled me, and I lifted my chin in response. “I am afraid we were caught in the rain.”
She nodded, nearly bounding to meet me. “You needn’t tell me. Your hair and clothing are enough explanation as to where you have been. I already called for your bath to be drawn.”
My hair. My hands instantly flew to the wet mass resting against my neck.
“My friend, Miss Kinsley,” Anna said to Mrs. Windham. “Isabelle, come meet Simon’s mother and g
randmother.” She flicked her head toward the two women, and her eyes darted toward Mr. Windham behind me.
I swallowed hard, curtsying.
“Charmed,” Mrs. Windham said as she stared at my bare hands.
Mr. Windham stepped forward. “You must forgive Miss Kinsley. Her gloves were lost in the storm.”
I pressed my lips together in a tight line, unsure of how to proceed.
“Your bath, Isabelle.” Anna turned back to Mrs. Windham, and the pair of them began conversing once more. Apparently Anna’s ankle had healed, what with her light steps around the new company.
I wobbled to the side, but no one seemed to notice. Mr. Windham had moved to greet his grandmother, Anna had stolen Mrs. Windham’s attention, and Mr. and Mrs. Somerville were all politeness to their new guests.
I returned to the house feeling as pathetic as ever. Unimportant, dirty, forgettable.
The enjoyment of the ride had vanished in an instance. Mr. Windham’s attention had disappeared the moment his mother had arrived.
Jealousy had finally found its way to me, and I found I liked it even less than cross-stitching. I would gladly have pricked my fingers a hundred times over than feel the ugliness that crept over me. What silliness. I hoped a bath might restore more than my soggy appearance.
Chapter 20
Simon
If I hadn’t known this was my grandmother, I’m not sure I’d have recognized her. She’d grown shorter since I’d seen her last. Her eyes less focused. My heart squeezed, even as I attempted to straighten my shoulders in front of my mother.
“So lovely to see you, Grandmother.”
She patted my cheeks with both hands. “Handsome boy. Handsome boy.”
She’d always done this to me. Every memory of Grandmother began with this exact gesture.
Anna giggled again and made a remark about Mother’s fine gloves. The comment almost felt purposeful, a possible slight toward Miss Kinsley’s lack of covering.
I turned to take comfort from the easy way of Miss Kinsley but the steps were empty of her, and I found myself staring at the open doorway. The loss of her was startling to my comfort, which was a discovery of my depth of feeling. Of the company currently assembled on the front steps of Haven’s Landing, Miss Kinsley’s person was the only one I wished for.
“Simon?” Mother said, her tone mentioning that my name had likely been called more than once. “Will you please escort us out of the weather?”
I blinked up at the thinning clouds, well aware that a mention of the mildness of the afternoon would not deter Mother in the least. My heart grew heavy as I tucked Grandmother’s thin arm under my own and rested my hand over her delicate leather gloves to lead her inside. Grandmother had always found a way to bring me an extra treat, or to entertain me when I was found sneaking about the house past my bedtime. Even chastising our nanny when she was too harsh.
“My handsome boy,” Grandmother said again as we stepped into the hall.
Peering up the stairs, I saw no hint of Miss Kinsley. Preventing my interest from showing in front of my mother, or my grandmother when in her right mind, would be practically impossible.
Disappointing my mother wasn’t a bridge I was yet willing to cross—not when I had no notion of Miss Kinsley fostering the same hope for a possible connection between us.
Mother stood on the opposite side of my grandmother. “I have brought a nurse to help with your grandmother,” she said softly. “I would ask that you do nothing to embarrass or worry her during our stay.”
I opened my mouth to ask what she could possibly mean, when her earlier disdainful look at Miss Kinsley answered my unspoken question.
“Of course,” I answered, swallowing down my disappointment. I hadn’t gone on my tour at the age of most young gentlemen, and therefore, hadn’t had what Mother would refer to as the advantages of traveling with a tutor. Honestly, every young man in England knew that a tutor was a glorified nurse, just as every young woman knew a governess was the same.
One slow step at a time, Grandmother and I ascended the large staircase.
“It is truly lovely to see you again, Mrs. Lovell,” Anna crooned next to me, speaking as if Grandmother were a child.
“Your family is always very considerate,” I said to Anna, wishing she had some other task more pressing than taking one painstaking step at a time.
Anna grasped my free arm as our mothers chattered just below. “We are practically family, Simon.”
“It is true,” I said through my teeth. “You and Elliot are like brother and sister to me.”
Another giggle spilled from Anna’s mouth. “I’m not your sister, Simon.”
But I wish you were. “Your ankle appears much improved.”
“Honestly, Mother worries too much. It was the slightest twist from stepping on my hem. My ladies’ maid is fixing my dress even now.”
Chattering on with Anna about her ankle or hem was not in my area of interest, not when reunited with Grandmother.
“How was Bath, Grandmother?” I asked.
“My handsome boy,” she said again softly.
“You shall create such pride within me that I may become unbearable,” I teased.
She gave my arm a slight squeeze in response.
“You could never,” Anna said as she too gave my arm a squeeze.
Thankfully, finally, we reached the top of the stairs. “I’m sure we can manage from here.”
However, Anna didn’t take my suggestion and followed us up the hallway. When we reached the appointed door, she darted ahead to lead us into the room—ever wishing to present herself as the perfect hostess.
I quickly diverted my attention to Grandmother. “Mother and your ladies’ maid will be here soon to help you prepare for tea,” I said softly.
Releasing my arm, Grandmother immediately walked to the window, resting her hands on the windowpanes.
The ache in her eyes and the creases near her mouth cracked my heart.
Anna still stood, smiling and courteous, her hand still resting on the door.
“I have not spent a solitary moment with my grandmother since my return,” I mentioned lightly, unable to remove my gaze from the frail woman in front of me.
“I would be happy to order tea here for the three of us,” Anna offered.
Of course, Anna had never been one to fully comprehend subtlety. At last, I turned to face her. “Would you allow me a few moments of privacy with my grandmother?”
She peered up at me, her lips slightly parted in surprise.
I stepped back. “Thank you.”
Turning, Anna grasped the door handle once more. “I promise to save you a seat next to me.”
Rather than respond, I walked to the window and waited for the door to close.
“My handsome boy,” Grandmother said again.
“I’ve missed you,” I told her. In some ways, my two years abroad had passed in a wink, and in others—as when I stood next to my aging grandmother—it felt a lifetime.
“I miss him,” she said softly.
“Grandfather?” I asked.
“He was my handsome boy,” she whispered, her nose nearly touching the glass.
I too rested my hands on the windowpane. I wondered for a moment what it would feel like to share a room with a woman. A wife. A life with a woman I felt matched with. Whom I was in love with. Whom I would miss the way Grandmother missed Grandfather. My heart swelled, and Miss Kinsley’s face appeared in my mind. She would be the type who could laugh with me under a tree in the rain, or stand, as Grandmother and I did now, contemplating what life might bring us next.
How I wished to tell Grandmother how fortunate she was to have had such love in her life.
Instead I rested my fingertips on the window, staring out at the paths I’d ridden and walked with Miss Kinsley only moments earlier. “What will I do if I’m led to marry Anna?” I asked softly. “Or, if I’m led to break her heart? What will I do?”
Grandmother turne
d to face me, once again lifting a thin hand to pat my cheek. “Dear Simon.”
No more words dropped from her lips as she moved for the bed.
A single knock was followed by Mother. The door swung open in what felt like a wild fashion after the quietness in the room. “Honestly, I believed Mrs. Somerville to be more cautious than to bring the daughter of a country doctor into our company.”
Apparently, they had covered many topics in their brief conversation.
“The Somerville’s have always had excellent taste in company,” I responded as I moved for the door.
Mother’s lady’s maid followed her into the room, opening and closing the door far more quietly.
“Please help Mother be comfortable and well-dressed for dinner,” Mother said.
Her maid nodded.
“Perhaps I should also be comfortable and well-dressed for dinner.” I glanced at where I’d smudged the carpets with mud from the ride.
Mother’s maid followed my gaze. “Don’ worry, sir. I’ll get that right cleaned up, sir.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Marsh.”
“Of course, sir.”
Mother stood tall and her gaze moved from my head to my feet and then paused again at my face. “I would love to see you, just once, without the disheveled appearance of a man who is always in the country,” Mother pressed.
I gave her a short bow. “Don’t you know, Mother? That fashion is all anyone is speaking of in the shops.”
“Simon.” Her lips pursed. “I love you, son. Please do not fray my nerves. We have had quite a journey.”
For the briefest moment, I nearly reminded Mother that their arduous journey had been but five miles. Fortunately, I thought better of it, and moved for my room instead. Mr. Kearns would have me set to rights in no time.
Once again, my cravat sat all wrong. The morning hunt had been filled with Elliot’s teasing, ridiculous poetry, and Mr. Sheffield’s disdainful looks as he took in the scene. While I did love the country, hunting had never quite appealed to me.
Dinner the previous evening had yielded nothing of interest. Miss Kinsley, Anna, and Mary had taken to themselves, and Mr. Sheffield did little but boast of his family’s land and connections within London’s society and royal family. His card-playing skills were no match for my own, and I’d gone to bed quite unsatisfied.
Of Twisted Fates (Kinsley Sisters Book 1) Page 16