Learning to Waltz (19 page)

Evan lifted his head and looked about him, up to the pale blue morning sky and into the gardens where evergreens and bare branches moved in a fresh, cold breeze. “It’s nice enough.”

Amanda regarded him quizzically. “I take it that your errand, whatever it was, did not prosper?”

“No. No, it didn’t.”

“And I take it you were looking for something more than—oh, a loaf of bread, say.”

He stopped, gazing at their footprints in the frosted grass. “I was looking for a wife.” He looked up to gauge her reaction.

Amanda’s brows flew up, her eyes wide in amazement. “She said
no
?”

He resumed walking. “She did.”

She stared after him and then ran to catch up. “Perhaps you should ask her again.”

He grimaced. “I already did.”

“Oh!” She hesitated. “Did she say why?”

“She doesn’t like me well enough.”

“Balderdash,” she exclaimed. “You saved her son, Evan!”

He smiled, but there was no humor in it. “That hardly obliges her to marry me.”

“Of course not, but…”

“I think she’s afraid.”

“Of what, for heaven’s sake?”

His frown deepened. “Oh,
the rustling of the grass, the very shadows of the clouds
. Her own shadows. Her life has not been like yours or mine.”

“Is that Wordsworth?” she asked, her forehead creased in concentration.

“Yes.” Evan slapped his crop against his leg. “I think she’s afraid my family would disinherit me.”

“They wouldn’t.”

“No. But they wouldn’t be pleased. No doubt they would prefer Lady Blythe.”

“Oh, Lord. No, I think your sister’s eyes have been opened by this little party.” They were silent as they entered the comparative warmth of the drawing room. “And even if they did cast you off, Mrs. Moore would still be better off than she is now.”

“I confess, Amanda, I hope she could find some better reason than that to marry me.”

“I’d wager she will do so yet,” she replied brightly. “Now, how about some breakfast?”

“Not just now, thank you.” He did not feel hungry, and he certainly did not feel sociable. “I don’t want to put a blight on your party.”

Amanda snorted. “This party is growing blights like a bad case of root rot. Blythe is a blight unto herself and has alienated everyone. Except the Captain, who positively eggs her on. I dread they will compromise themselves under my roof. Frank’s making a cake of himself over Lady Honora. And poor, devoted Charles wants more of my attention than I can give until this assortment of motley fools breaks up. Never again will I play hostess to a party of Frank’s devising.”

Evan smiled. His face felt rusty. “Poor Amanda. You should kick us all out, my dear.”

“Hmm. Perhaps smallpox in the village?” She sighed. “I suppose not. Well, I must get to the breakfast parlor. You’re sure you won’t join us?”

He shook his head.

“Do you stay here? Shall I have the fire lit?”

“No, I’ll not stay long. But perhaps you could ask Parker to bring some coffee?” That would take the chill off.

Evan sat down at the piano. Idly, he riffled through the stack of music to give his mind and hands something to do. Music was not a standard component of a gentleman’s education as it was for a lady. But he’d been fascinated by the piano as a child, and Alberta, always the bossy sort, had happily taught him the rudiments of scales and sight-reading.

Finding a Mozart sonata that looked fairly straightforward, at least through the first couple of pages, he began picking out the notes.

The door whispered open, and he turned to see Lady Blythe slip in. Almost secretively, she pushed it shut again and then smiled coyly and came across the room to him. “Oh, you don’t have to get up. I wondered where you were hiding yourself, Evan.”

“How wonderful that you found me,” he responded very drily.

“Oh, it was quite easy; I followed the coffee. And the—er—music. Do you really play?”

“Execrably. What you heard was definitely
not
music.”

“Good. I detest music,” Blythe said. “Much as I detest boredom or virtue. Or widows.” Evan picked out a few more notes, frowning. “You never did return to the ball last night, dear Evan. I suppose you found some more pleasurable pastime?”

He was silent.

“It
was
dull, wasn’t it?” Blythe murmured, slipping two fingers inside his cravat and running them around the back of his neck. “I would happily have escaped with you.”

Evan shuddered at the touch of her cold hand. Then he turned abruptly and stood up. “No, thank you, ma’am.”

She stepped up to him and put her hands on his chest. “Why not? I have far more to offer than that insipid widow of yours. She makes me quite jealous. And jealousy makes me stupid. I should never have composed that riddle. It was rude, and I apologize.”

Well, that was a surprise.

“But I’ll bet you anything you like, I kiss better than she does.” Another half step brought her right against him. Her arms snaked up around his neck.

Hindered by the piano at his back, Evan was impelled to rather rough tactics. He took her arms and forced her down onto the piano bench before backing away.

Blythe bounced to her feet. “You’re rude, Mr. Haverfield!”

“You’re insufferable, Lady Blythe. Good day.”

As he reached for the door handle, one of the music books sailed past his head. “Hateful,” she cried.

Evan retreated to his bedchamber.

Even here he was not left in peace for long. A knock heralded the entrance of his brother-in-law, who found him sprawled in much the same attitude his sister had seen the previous night. At least he was not drunk. Not yet.

Beyond commenting that hangovers were the very devil, Theo showed no interest in Evan’s megrims. “How about a gallop? The others are riding through the village to look at the abbey ruins, but I thought we might head across the meadow and down toward the river.”

Thank heaven for indifference. Evan relaxed. It was difficult to converse upon serious subjects while galloping willy-nilly across the countryside, and the last thing Evan wanted was conversation.

As the gentlemen made their way to the drawing room after dinner, Evan drew Latimer aside into the library. “Feels like I’ve hardly spoken to you since I arrived in Whately.”

“It’s all this company,” Latimer said, shaking his head. “And before that it was your widow. Been meaning to ask, what’s happening there?”

“The boy is quite recovered,” Evan said, refusing a brandy, “and you’ll be happy to hear that nothing else is happening at all.”

“Oh…  I thought maybe that was where you snuck off to last night.” Frank sat down by the fire.

Evan assessed his friend for a moment and then sat across from him. “It was. But nothing came of it.” At least, nothing he was going to talk about with Latimer or anyone else.

He stood up again and poured himself some of the brandy he’d refused earlier. “What of your own prospects?”

“With Honora, you mean? I don’t know. It’s aggravating as hell.”

“I’ll turn the tables on you. Do you love her?”

“Oh, she’s an absolute angel, Haverfield,” Frank said, leaning forward. “But I can never tell what she’s thinking.” He took a gulp of brandy. “What do you think of her?”

Evan pondered what to say. It wasn’t as easy as discussing horseflesh. “‘Angel’ seems apt. It’s only…  You fall in and out of love so easily, Frank. How can you be sure she’s the right one?”

A harebrained question for me to be asking—I fell just as quickly.

Latimer shrugged. “I’m not sure it matters all that much. I’m an easygoing fellow, I figure I should be able to get along with any number of women.”

“Hell, Latimer. Are you really content to
get along
with your wife? I want…” He let loose an explosive sigh. “I don’t know what I want.” Except that he did know. And he couldn’t have it.

“They say if you pick a young one, you can train her up the way you want her. I only hope I can talk her out of turning the house into some Oriental fashion plate.”

Evan grimaced. “I hope so too.” He swirled his brandy around, firelight through amber. He didn’t want it after all. “Listen, Frank. I need to go to Shrewsbury tomorrow to see my bankers.”

“Another week and we’ll be done here.”

“I know, but it can’t wait. I’ll be back Sunday. Saturday night if I’m lucky.”

Latimer drained his glass. “With all the acrimony between you and Blythe, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Ha. I won’t miss her, but that’s not the reason.”

Latimer stood up and moved toward the door. “Well, the ladies are waiting. We’ll miss you. And Haverfield? If I should ask for her while you’re gone, wish me luck.”

Evan gripped Frank’s shoulder. “Done.”

Ironic that the two of them, who had talked so adamantly against marriage less than a month ago, should both offer it so soon afterward.

May he fare better than I did.

Alberta could have throttled her brother.

What could possibly be so important that he couldn’t wait a week to see the family bankers? She wouldn’t have come to this dreadful party at all if
he
hadn’t been here.

“You know,” she’d said when he told her he was going, “if you need some ready cash, Theo could—”

“No, it’s nothing he can help with.”

Neither roundabout conversation nor a direct approach elicited anything more useful. Alberta thought about packing up and leaving as well, but Theo was inclined to stay, and she didn’t want to leave Miss Latimer in the lurch.

She watched Evan leave from her window as she dressed the next morning. Grady was taking him to the inn—he’d be traveling post from there. Evan
never
traveled post. So at least he had speed in mind.

The others went hunting, leaving Alberta with only Honora for company. When the girl finally went upstairs to rest, Alberta moved to the drawing room and pounded out the
Presto
from a Cramer sonata on the pianoforte.

Three and a half minutes later, she was smiling. She might not practice as much as she should, but she still had the touch. She played until she was bored to tears.

She was so glad to see Theo, she hung about their bedchamber while he bathed and dressed, listening to his report on the hunting. His valet maintained a stony silence, lips pursed in disapproval.

Alberta made a face at the door after he left the room. “What an old woman he is. Surely you could do better?”

“Are you saying you’re displeased with my attire?” he teased, showing himself off. “Or the shine on my boots?”

She surveyed his navy coat and paisley silk waistcoat, the fit of his breeches, the fall of his cravat. And yes, his boots. She had no complaint with that. It was quite a nice package she’d married.

“I’m sorry, I’ve had an insipid day. I cannot fathom what Latimer finds to talk to that girl about. I tried every subject I could think of, and the only things that interested her at all were religion and gardens. I ask you, Theo, does Latimer seem likely to appreciate either one?”

Theo laughed. “It’s one of the mysteries of love, my dear.” He put his arms around her and gave her a kiss. “Poor old Bertie. Tomorrow will be more interesting. In fact, today could be more interesting…” He cupped his hands over her bottom and pulled her tight, nibbling on her ear.

“Theo!”

“What? Philippe is gone. There’s no one to see.”

“Thank goodness for that.”

The following day they drove to Belvoir Castle, something over an hour’s journey. Theo had made the arrangements. Alberta and Theo visited with the Duke and Duchess in their private wing while the head housekeeper guided the others through the public rooms. A light repast and visits to the stables and succession houses rounded out the excursion. Blythe seemed out of spirits, which was a pleasant change. It was the most enjoyable day Alberta had seen since her arrival.

They returned to Whately Manor for a late dinner. The final set of plates was cleared, and Alberta waited for Miss Latimer to lead the ladies from the table. But the viscount tapped his glass with a spoon and rose to his feet.

“I have an announcement to make.” All eyes turned his way. Blythe yawned, making a show of it. “This afternoon, the Lady Honora honored me by accepting my offer of marriage.” Honora blushed.

There was a satisfying chorus of cheers and applause. Sudbury must have known already, of course—Latimer would hardly have proposed without speaking to him first. In fact,
everyone
must have known. But the cheers were obligatory.

In honor of the occasion, the gentlemen accompanied the ladies to the drawing room and drank champagne instead of port. The evening passed away in a buzz of light-headed conversation and cards.

The rain started as Alberta headed upstairs to bed. It slapped against the windows and kept her awake half the night.