Emily Hendrickson (20 page)

“I have said the gels may go along with you, although I suspect Elizabeth would have gone regardless.” Lady Montmorcy glanced at her niece, still standing by the door with a bemused expression on her face. “Mind you, take umbrellas. I shall have Cook send along a packet of food in case there is trouble on the road. I trust your coachman has the sense to bring a spare wheel in the event of disaster? ‘Tis wise in such abominable spring weather.”

“All is in order, dear lady. Shall I chat with you while the young ladies fetch pelisses and reticules?”

“Do not forget your pattens, girls. The streets of Dorking are sure to be wretched after this rain,” Aunt Bel admonished the girls, who were well on their way out of the room.

Elizabeth paused by the door. “Is there anything you wish. Aunt Bel? Perhaps some thread I may buy for you?”

“Considerate child,” her aunt replied. “I do need another packet of needles for my embroidery. I declare, I cannot fathom how they disappear, when I am certain I have them carefully inserted in the fabric.”

“Very well, a packet of needles it shall be,” Elizabeth said, smiling at her aunt’s dismay. The dear lady might be as punctual as a well-sprung clock, but she often forgot where she put things, particularly needles. Elizabeth had lost count of the number of packets she had bought since coming to the Hall.

In her room, Elizabeth slipped into her best turquoise pelisse, then donned a cottage bonnet that was lined with the same fabric and tied with matching riband. Drawing on her gloves, she again studied the diamond ring on her finger before covering it up with turquoise silk.

What to make of David and his puzzling attentions? Why did she have the uncomfortable sensation he was concealing something from her? When she asked questions, he kissed her wrists most intimately. And gave no reply.

Normally a woman did not expose her hands to a man unless he was someone close to her. Elizabeth was pleased with her hands at the moment. There were no stains or scratches from etching to mar them, and they were as soft as even she might wish. But his kisses presented a mystery. Why had he acted so in Aunt Bel’s presence? Did he not realize it would show him as the lover? And make it more difficult to break their betrothal?

In the hallway she could hear the excited voices of her cousins as they made their way down the stairs to the entryway. She hastened to join them, unwilling to think about the riddle posed by David any longer. He had been too particular in his attentions, and if he continued to display such an attachment to her,. Aunt Bel would be justified in believing the betrothal would lead to matrimony. He used her Christian name as though given that right, which, of course, betrothal offered him. But they were not really betrothed. In spite of the magnificent diamond on her finger.

Whether or not this was desired by Elizabeth was an entirely different matter. That she had been using David’s first name for days remained forgotten, or perhaps ignored by her, in her wish to delude herself into thinking that she truly did not long for marriage with him.

David ushered the three young women to his traveling coach. “I daresay you shall not think the trip too tedious when it permits an escape from the house,” he said with that twinkle restored to his eyes.

Not voicing an agreement, Elizabeth merely smiled as she entered the coach. Hyacinth looked about the inside, a pleased expression on her face.

It was most attractive, with an interior of rich brown leather and plush velvet on the seats in a particularly lovely shade of dark blue. In addition to wood blinds that could be let down if one wished, there were pockets in the door panels to hold articles, or books, in the event one wished to attempt reading.

“I shall leave those odious pattens in the coach,” Hyacinth declared. “If a bit of water lingers in the streets, I feel certain someone will assist me.” She did not look at Lord Leighton, but rather gazed dreamily off into space.

Lady Chloe followed suit, tucking her despised pattens away in the corner, hoping her mother would not know she had ignored the horrid things, with their rings of steel that clanged on the stone like dull bells.

“And what do you contemplate purchasing on your foray to the shops, Elizabeth?” David inquired in deceptively dulcet tones.

“I, sir, shall make my way to the best bookshop. Having read everything of interest to be found on your shelves, I desire something else.” She spoke quietly, hoping to avoid being heard by her cousins. This might be possible, for they prattled away, discussing what they hoped to find.

“You left Miss Brunton’s book unfinished? Or perhaps you have had you fill of
Self-Control?”

She knew that note of teasing far too well to be surprised at his words. Self-control, indeed. Ignoring his taunt, she said, “I left my copy of
Pride and Prejudice
in London. It is a delightful book, and I believe I shall buy a copy to leave here, for my aunt has never read it. Your father seemed to enjoy it very much.”

She darted a look that told him she clearly understood he was trying to discompose her. She’d not have that. She clasped her gloved hands in her lap and gazed from the window, allowing Lady Chloe and Hyacinth to chatter away, inquiring about the shops, wondering if they might see anyone they knew, and in general monopolizing Lord Leighton.

It was to his credit that he exhibited great patience with the two girls, for away from Lady Montmorcy they forgot to be prim and proper.

“I shall arrange for a repast at the White Horse. Should we somehow become separated, meet there,” David suggested.

Elizabeth exclaimed in delight as a deer bounded along the road, then darted off into the woods of beech and oak, soon disappearing from view. After they were gone from her sight, she turned to David. “That is kind of you, but we do have Aunt’s packet of food.”

Hyacinth sniffed in disgust. “As if it would compare to the White Horse. All due apologies to your mama, Chloe,” she added, not wishing to hurt her cousin’s feelings.

The road wound down into the town west of Box Hill. Lady Chloe leaned forward to tap Elizabeth on her knee. “Later on there are simply masses and masses of bluebells along this road. Quite lovely, actually.”

“Decidedly,” Elizabeth replied, sitting straighter as they neared the center of town. She intended to separate herself from the others, find the needles for her aunt, then enjoy some time in the bookshop without Hyacinth and Lady Chloe driving her mad with their chatter.

“Do you know,” Hyacinth whispered, although why, Elizabeth couldn’t see, “that ‘tis said Lord Nelson took leave of Lady Hamilton at the Hare and Hounds before he went off to the Battle of Trafalgar?” She peered out of the window at the building as they passed, quite as though she expected one of the people involved to step from the doorway.

Elizabeth couldn’t resist a glance at David, nearly laughing when she met his amused grimace. It was lovely to have someone to share a bit of humor with on occasion.

Lady Chloe and Hyacinth were enchanted when they discovered that others they knew had also decided to enjoy the respite from the rain. Lady Chloe spotted John Harlowe, dimpling a smile at him when he strode to her side.

Hyacinth displayed more subtlety when she espied Lord Norwood across the busy street from the inn where they had stopped. She simply allowed her scarf to wave in the breeze, as though unable to capture it. The flutter of ivory silk caught his eye, and he sauntered to the party, bringing along his friends, Peregrine Forsythe and George Barr.

“My, what a lovely day,” trilled Hyacinth, sure of her charms, not to mention looks in a periwinkle pelisse trimmed in cream velvet. She tilted her head, becomingly demure in her smart bonnet cap of cream satin and double borders of scalloped lace. With a dainty hand she coyly toyed with the cream ribands that firmly anchored the bonnet beneath her chin. ‘Sirs, what a pleasant surprise. Do you come to shop?”

“Like you,” the elegantly attired Norwood said, looking down his aristocratic nose as he spoke, “we are come to town for diversion.”

John Harlowe, not appreciating the other tonnish gentlemen in the least, drew Lady Chloe apart, persuading her, with frequent glances at the others, to permit him to escort her to the shops. When they drifted away along the street, Hyacinth seized the opportunity to snare Lord Norwood, Mr. Forsythe, and Mr. Barr as her escorts.

Elizabeth thought her cousin in fine fettle, and barely suppressed a grin. Lady Chloe ought to have had a maid along, but in this small town it was unlikely to be remarked upon if she was escorted by a neighbor boy, especially one as well liked as John Harlowe.

“And now for you, Elizabeth,” David murmured from a point shockingly close to her ear. “What was it you desired?”

She turned her head, finding him close, indeed. Although he was exceptionally tall, he had inclined his head so that his eyes were near the level of her own, and for a moment she found herself lost in those hazel depths. The golden lights in his eyes sparkled with humor, and Elizabeth found herself shaken to her core when she took a step away from him, saying, “Sir?”

“Your desires, Elizabeth. What are they?” That rich voice stroked her senses, teased her with yearning.

Heavens, she knew she must be blushing, for at that moment the notion of a kiss appealed to her more than anything in the world, much less the Dorking shops.

He chuckled, seeming satisfied, even though she had not answered him. He tucked her hand close to his side, guiding her across the cobbled street to the far side, then along the walk. “It is here somewhere, I recall.”

Quite stupidly, she said, “What is?”

“Why, the bookshop, to be sure.”

Elizabeth wished the ground would open up and swallow her. Never had she felt such a silly miss, not even at the Fenwick ball, where he had teased her with that first kiss. She had never told him that he was the first and only man to kiss her, but perhaps he had known, for she was indeed an innocent and inexperienced in things like kisses.

“Ah, here we are.” He ushered her into the bookshop with great polish.

Elizabeth found she rather liked being escorted as though she were fragile china. In the past she had dashed about, not caring in the least for such. Memory of her previous confrontations with Lord Leighton while in London burned in her memory. What he must have thought of her.

“You hunt for that copy of
Pride and Prejudice
you want while I look over their stock of other books. I’ve a notion to see if they have something on landscaping. Father said my mother wished to have a white garden and formal landscaping out to the grotto. He expressed a desire to fix things up as she would have liked. What do you think about such a thing? Do you agree?” He appeared touchingly eager for her reply.

“It seems most admirable to me. I trust your father will be able to oversee the work himself.” If she had hoped for further revelations about his father’s health, she was to be disappointed, for David said nothing.

He evaded her searching look, turning to inspect the little penciled markers that gave one a clue as to what books were where.

Elizabeth paused a few moments before slowly wandering off to find the novels. Her mind seethed with the strangest notions. He was being less than truthful with her. No, not that precisely, but secretive. Still, it was none of her affair. With that reminder she persisted until she found what she wished. Knowing her aunt did not possess either of the books, she also bought a copy of
Sense and Sensibility,
and picked up a Minerva novel in the hope that it might prove diverting.

When she returned to the front of the shop, she found David waiting with a stack of books he had purchased. A quick glance at the titles revealed that he had found not only a work on landscaping by Repton, but a number of other volumes as well. A novel, a new history of Greece, and several other works were being wrapped by the flustered clerk.

She paid for her books, then allowed David to lead her from the shop. Although she wondered, there was no proper way she could question him about his choices. Hyacinth would have. But Elizabeth had achieved more dignity, unfortunately. It was not deemed fitting for a young woman to ask too many questions.

From the top of the street it was easy to discover where the others were. Hyacinth waltzed along the way, peeking into the shops, disappearing into one that stocked pretty ribands and lace.

“Have you ever replaced that becoming pelisse that was ruined in the pond?”

“I’ve not had time, more’s the pity,” Elizabeth replied, vividly recalling that dreadful accident.

“I feel I ought to buy you a new one. It was most attractive.”

“That would be highly improper,” she said primly.

He laughed at her. “But I am your betrothed. I am allowed to do things like that. Come, I see a mantua maker up ahead. Permit me my whim.”

Distressed, but somehow finding herself swept along to the shop, Elizabeth discovered that when David wanted his way, he attained it. In surprisingly short order the pleasant woman who kept the shop had Elizabeth measured, the fabric selected—by David, to match Elizabeth’s eyes—and paid for. Arrangements were made for delivery of the fine wool garment, and they departed, no doubt leaving the mantua maker thinking she had taken a very quick order.

Once again outside the shop, Elizabeth turned to remonstrate with him. “You ought not have done that, sir.”

“I am David, my dear girl. And, actually, I cannot lay claim to the idea as my own. My father was distressed to find you had suffered such a loss. He requested I replace your garment.”

Surprised, Elizabeth could say no more, other than to issue a proper thank-you. She walked close to him, for he persisted in bringing her arm to his side in a highly familiar way. When she gave him a questioning look, he merely smiled.

“This walkway is narrow, and I would not lose you.”

With that, Elizabeth had to be content. Indeed, the proximity of David, Lord Leighton, would have been quite enough to send her into transports if she had been a silly girl, which she wasn’t. Not in the least.

It was a gay, almost frivolous group that met at the White Horse for the satisfying repast David had ordered.