I turned to see Grandmother sitting on a blanket under a large umbrella, Isabelle now kneeling at her side. They spoke in hushed voices.
As much as I wished to take the moment to ascertain Isabelle’s opinion of me, there was someone I had to speak with first. Pulling my shoulders back and lifting my chin, I turned to see Anna and Miss Guppy whispering behind fans. Anna stretched out a hand in front of her, and I could just make out Miss Guppy’s admiration of her lace gloves.
This was the Anna of my youth.
“Might you excuse us for a moment?” I asked as I stood above the two young ladies.
Anna began to speak, but Miss Guppy stood, giving me a knowing smile, which said that Anna had most likely mentioned her attachment to Miss Guppy. Perhaps half of London believed me to be engaged to a young woman I had no intention of attaching myself to.
“You have chased away my friend, Simon.” Anna placed her polite smile on her face.
I faced Anna and sat, cautious to keep enough distance between us to be easily considered appropriate. The past few days had left me considering and re-considering how to speak with her.
“You look in pain, Simon,” Anna said.
I forced my gaze to match hers. “Anna...I detest London.”
“I see…” she said slowly as if she did not understand at all.
“I go only to appease my mother and to play cards. I would be happy to never find myself there again.”
Anna blinked up at me.
“I do not appreciate fine clothes. I much prefer to wear my worn riding coats and soft breeches to anything else. My idea of a perfect day would be to ride, possibly even in the rain, and to spend my afternoon with a good book and my evening with a deck of cards and occasionally a friend or two…”
“Why are you telling me these details?” Anna asked. “I already know you, Simon.”
“Because if I were someone you had only just met, I believe you would find me quite dull.”
Anna laughed. “Simon, I could never find you dull.”
“You love London,” I told her. “You love your pretty things, your fabrics and ribbons and fine dresses, as you should.” I nodded once. A woman’s dress was often her only opportunity to show her person, her talents, personality. I would never trivialize that piece of a woman’s interest. It was simply one I didn’t share. “But I cannot make myself care much for those details. I would be feigning interest, where you should have a match who does honestly care for those same things. Someone who loves society and parties and London and could speak with authority on the different types of muslin.”
“But, Simon, we have connection,” Anna urged. “We have history.”
“And I hope that we remain in one another’s lives, Anna,” I said softly. Never again would I allow my tone to be as harsh as it had been on the night of the ball. “After the way I spoke to you the other night, I have expected you to never speak to me again.”
“Is that what you wish from me?” she asked softly, her eyes rimmed with tears.
“No.” I shook my head. “When I said I hoped we remained in one another’s lives, I meant every word.”
“I’m sure we could overcome…” However, Anna’s words trailed off before she finished speaking.
“If you would but take a moment to write down your wishes for a husband,” I nearly whispered. “I would wager a fair price that I would only be able to mark a very few of those items. You see me as you wish me to be. I am not that man, Anna. I live for books and old worn shirts and quiet days in the country.”
“Except for cards,” she interjected.
“Which you despise.” I forced out a quiet laugh. “Neither you nor your brother is nearly as fond of reading as me. I would make a dreadful husband for you, Anna. And, I hope you will forgive my harsh words of the other evening. They fell from my mouth in a moment of frustration and confusion.”
“On that count, you are forgiven.” Anna clasped her hands. “I shall give your words serious consideration, my dear Simon.”
“I thank you.” I stood before Anna could once again shift our conversation to the romantic. “You and your mother have thrown a lovely party. I daresay I shall be quite morose when it comes to an end.”
Her cheeks flushed, and I turned to see Isabelle stand from attending to Grandmother. Our eyes caught, and a rush of emotion nearly toppled me forward. I swallowed and started toward her to lend my apologies of the other night, but Anna called for Isabelle from behind me, and Isabelle rushed to her friend’s side, not glancing my way as she passed.
Since the ball, I had not been able to focus on anything but Isabelle, and she had very clearly been focused on anything but me. If there were an appropriate way for me to learn her head and heart, I would pay nearly any price for the opportunity.
“Dear Simon!” Mother called out to me as she started toward Grandmother. “Come sit with us a moment.”
There was nothing to do but to oblige. As I sat, cursing the weather for allowing our picnic, my focus returned toward Isabelle once more. I heard just enough conversation between the friends to know they once again had plans together.
My heart found some respite that the two friends had found some measure of peace.
Chapter 29
Isabelle
The dinner guests, all congregated in the parlor, clumped together in conversation, while the servants finished preparing the festivities. What festivities—no one knew. Mrs. Somerville delighted in surprises, promising that night would be particularly entertaining.
I held my breath. Particularly entertaining might mean a number of things to a woman like Mrs. Somerville. Even now—five silver platters were set across a long table at the back of the room, each adorned with a blank, white envelope.
I did not wish for recitations, nor for childhood games like Blind Man’s Bluff that parties sometimes employed. If all went according to my plans, I wished to fade into the background until my trunks were packed tomorrow. Already farewell speeches had begun amongst the guests.
“What will you do for the rest of the summer, Anna?” Mary asked.
Anna’s glance hovered over mine for the briefest of moments, as she spoke. “I think I must endeavor to make my mind, Mary. I have received three proposals and haven’t the slightest attachment to a single gentleman.”
My brows lifted, and I quickly looked to the floor. Haven’t the slightest attachment to any man? Anna was either lying to Mary, or, more likely, lying to herself. Her tears, reverberating into my bedroom from across the hall each night since the ball were enough to convince me that she had been very much attached to Mr. Windham.
In a gesture that I was learning typical of Mary, she wrapped her arms around Anna. “You will find happiness,” she said, “I am sure of it.”
Would I?
Mrs. Somerville rang a gong before Anna could elaborate, and the room of guests was called to attention. “My dears, I have prepared a most unique evening of entertainment—a game of wits. And, as they say, two wits are better than one.” She paused with a smile and glanced about the room. “I have paired each young gentleman with a member of the gentler sex.”
I swallowed hard, clasping my hands together. I’d already surmised Mrs. Somerville considered herself a matchmaker. I offered a silent prayer—I could not survive being paired with Mr. Windham for an evening of activities. The tension between us had not diminished, and I did not wish to be overwhelmed with girlish emotions again.
Anyone but the man I adored.
Mrs. Somerville continued, “Now, as for the rules of the game. Each pairing will be given a clue—written by our own Mr. Somerville. He has graciously offered to sit the evening out and act as advisor, should you get stuck. You are allowed one question for each rhyme. Once solved, you will be led to the next clue, and so on, and so on, until you have unearthed the treasure—the greatest mystery of the evening.”
Anna sighed, whispering in my ear. “My mother fancies herself quite clever.”
I
did not wish to intervene between their spats, but I was beginning to see Mrs. Somerville in the more favorable light. My friend was so much like her mother, but Mrs. Somerville had two qualities that Anna did not—confidence and a lack of pretense.
“I have stationed myself, Mrs. Windham, Mr. Fullerton, and Mrs. Fullerton as chaperones throughout the rooms as to keep each of you quite proper.” She laughed lightly, resting a hand against her chest. She inhaled and then gestured to the white envelopes on the table behind her. “And for the pairings: Elliot and Mary, to be sure.”
Elliot grinned, and he offered his arm to Mary who immediately rested her hand in the crook of his elbow.
“Mr. Barrington and Anna, Mr. Sheffield and his grandmother, Mr. Gregory and Miss Guppy, and…that leaves Mr. Windham and Miss Kinsley.”
Panic pooled in my already nervous stomach. I tightened my clasped hands to keep from shaking. Instinctively, I glanced at Mr. Windham. From his furrowed brows and pursed lips, I surmised his distress upon our pairing to be as great as mine.
“Find your companion and take a place at one of the platters for your first clue.”
I hesitated, watching as Mr. Windham walked slowly toward me. He did not look into my eyes. “Miss Kinsley, I hope you will not mind my company.”
“Not at all.”
But the truth was I did mind, though not for the reasons he might suppose. The feelings I had for him, and their conflicting nature with that of my loyalties for Anna, had overwhelmed me at the ball, and tears had come. Tears. I did not cry. Yet, I had. How had I allowed Mr. Windham’s friendship to take such a sharp turn in my mind? A serious attachment between us was doubly impossible: he was the desire of Anna, and I was the daughter of a country physician.
The previous night, Anna and I had finally sat together with Miss Guppy. Anna had a mind for us all to create a list of the traits we would require in a husband. Kind rested on my list, nothing else. I suspected Anna’s list had been tailored with Simon in mind.
I had witnessed enough of Mrs. Windham’s critical watching of me to know she did not, would never, approve of someone like me. And, Mr. Windham’s father had looked at me with even more disdain, mixed with a large dose of incredulity. I released a heavy breath at the thought.
“Shall we?” He offered his arm.
I dipped my chin, grasping at his arm. My tension might have eased at the warmth elicited by touching him, by the buzzing in my chest, and the subsequent softening of my hardened heart. However, tension coiled tighter.
The moment I glanced up at his now familiar profile, his jaw tightened.
I loved Simon.
Simon. The word circulated my mind and flowed to my heart. I had never allowed myself to think of him on such familiar terms until that moment. I had never acknowledged my feelings for him. Perhaps I had been scared, or, perhaps it had only recently become fully undeniable love.
We reached the table, crowding beside Mr. Gregory and Miss Guppy. Mr. Gregory already held the envelope in his hand, and his eyes sparked with curiosity.
He lowered it behind his back when he caught me staring at him. “Miss Guppy, we shall have to speak in hushed tones. If we are to solve the mystery first—we will have to escape prying minds.”
The absurdity brought a wave of relief. Perhaps being paired with Simon was not as trying as it might have been, had I been forced to endure Mr. Gregory’s incessant talk of all things wise and literary.
Mrs. Somerville rang the gong. “You may now begin.”
Simon opened the envelope and read the first clue. “Where knowledge rests, you’ll find your quest. ‘There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more…’”
“Byron,” I said, glancing in the direction of the library.
“I was thinking library, but I did not know the exact volume.”
I shrugged. “My sister can quote much of Lord Byron’s words verbatim. That quote is a particular favorite, as we live by the sea.”
“You are very close with your sisters.”
“I miss them,” fell from my lips before I had the thought to hold in the words.
His gaze dropped to mine. “What a beautiful thing, for you to have siblings you care for so fully.”
Simon watched as the other couples spread about the house in different directions. “It appears, however, that each team’s clues are distinct.”
Only Mrs. Somerville would put so much care into a single evening diversion.
We walked to the library in silence—something that felt odd and unnatural. When we crossed the threshold, the room was brightly lit, though entirely empty.
He sighed and looked down at me with a smile. “I suppose it is only right we begin this game in the place we first met—both times.”
I could not help but smile back at him, amidst my pounding heart. I had almost forgotten the bookshop meeting and my discovering Simon as Elliot’s friend in Haven’s Landing’s library a short while later.
“I do hope ladders are involved this time too.”
I refused to reward him with my laughter, but I settled on teasing him. “Yes, I should like to drop another book atop your head.”
“Perhaps you might knock some sense in it. Heaven knows I’ve lost all of mine.”
I ignored this remark, wandering away from him to look each shelf for a volume of Lord Byron’s poems. The books were disorganized, however, and placed in an aesthetically pleasing order instead of one of alphabets or subjects. How did anyone find books in such a confusing arrangement? The task of collecting one volume amongst the hundreds might take all day.
Ten minutes of scanning the shelves produced little result. Byron included, I had not spotted a single book of poetry. That fact should not have surprised me, for the Somerville family were not the literary type—except for Elliot’s father, and he seemed to have a preference for scientific and historical volumes.
I weaved through a row of shelves to find Simon crouched in front of the bottom row of books. “Has Byron made his appearance over here?”
He sighed, looking up at me. “I do believe we will be here all night. I suppose there might be worse places to be locked. The company might not be so bad.”
The ache in my chest grew at his compliment. I wished, more than anything, to return to the easiness between us. “Mr. Somerville does not seem the Byron type at all.”
“No.”
“Then why send us here to find his book?”
He stood, scratching a hand against his jaw. “That is odd. I hadn’t the notion they liked Byron. Perhaps Mrs. Fullerton helped write the clues.”
I shifted my weight, glancing at the end of the row of books, where a painting caught my eyes. “What was the quote again, Mr. Windham?”
He pulled the envelope from his coat pocket. “Where knowledge rests, you’ll find your quest. ‘There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more’.”
I lifted one hand, pointing toward the painting. “By the deep sea—do you think it means—”
“The painting of the sea.”
We both took off toward the wall, stopping just short of the painting depicting the storm-tossed sea. Simon ran a hand around the perimeter of the frame, pausing at the bottom right corner.
“Well?” I said, catching my breath.
He grinned and pulled out another envelope. “Brilliant, Miss Kinsley.”
Miss Kinsley sounded far too detached, and I missed the more familiar sound of Isabelle on his lips. The ache pulsed through me once more, but I pushed it away and snatched the paper from his hands.
“Morning and evening, I gather you round—unless to the terrace you’re found.”
I shook my head. Mrs. Somerville had chided Mr. Gregory for teasing Mr. Barrington for his wish for solitary tea, though she had alluded to it in her game of clues.
“Well, shall I lead us to the terrace?” Mr. Windham offered
his arm once more.
I took it, following him down the hall and out the back door. Haven’s Landing’s terrace extended half the length of the house, apparently to appease Mrs. Somerville and her love of hosting balls. Lanterns lit the surface, piercing through the overcast darkness.
In the far corner, sat a solitary table, set for tea.
“There!” Forgetting all manners for the second time, I bolted, tugging Mr. Windham along. “Perhaps a scone shall be our reward.”
When his steps slowed, my hand slid down his arm. However, his hand caught mine, quite unexpectedly, and he pulled me back to face him. His fingers were warm over my chilled ones, and he reached his free hand to my other.
“Miss Kins…” His chin dropped, his eyes closed, and he inhaled slowly. “I fear I have muddled any chance I have, Isabelle. The way I acted at the ball, the way I have sulked like a child.”
I shrugged my shoulders, unable to look away from his strained expression. I wished to brush away whatever ailed him. “Your behavior was better than most would have exhibited in the same situation.”
“Was it?” He leaned closer, studying my expression with a dizzying fervency.
“Yes, quite. The complicated matter between you and Anna, the way she seemed to come between your and my friendship. I cannot blame—”
“Friendship?” His brows ticked together, and his voice cracked. “Yes, her coming between us was quite the shame.”
“If things had been different, Mr. Windham. If Anna had not been my dearest friend, and if I had not come to Haven’s Landing as her particular guest…we might have gotten on better than most.” I paused, studying his hands wrapped around mine.
Speaking of friendship, when my heart was cracking with unspoken affections and desires, felt like a lie. My chest rattled, as if the ache might swallow me completely. I had felt this at the ball, but I did not wish to cry in front of Mr. Windham again.
“Isabelle.” Mr. Windham leaned his forehead against mine. The warmth of him made its way through my body.
Of Twisted Fates (Kinsley Sisters Book 1) Page 22