Lord Sidley's Last Season (13 page)

“He is not as tall as you are, my lord.”

“Dwarfish?”

“Certainly not. He is of medium height.”

“You think me not `medium’?”

“You are tall, my lord. You know that you are tall.”

“And Lieutenant Reeves’ complexion?”

“He is fair. Not as fair as Lord Benjamin-”

“Swarthy?”

“Quite the opposite. He can blush-”

“Good heavens, Miss Ware. What do you say to him
to make him blush?”

“I meant only that he is fair-complected.”

“And is he hefty?”

“‘Hefty’? I would never describe him so” She found
it difficult to picture William while attempting to capture every nuance of Sidley’s face. “He is not broad-”

“Thin, then.”

“-nor is he thin. You are thinner than he, my lord.”

“You mean that he is stout”

“He is not stout! You have been ill. Naturally you appear somewhat thin-”

“I wish you would not continually dwell on my illness, Miss Ware. ‘Tis most disheartening.”

After the set-down, she chose to be silent.

“And his interests?” Sidley persisted. “I presume he
is fond of art”

“He has admired my sketches, yes.”

“No doubt he calls them your `little sketches,’” he said
with something of a sneer in his voice.

And Marian, angry because William did indeed refer
to her work in that manner, countered, “He has not seen
me in more than two years, my lord. He must be forgiven for not … for not understanding-”

“You?”

Marian glared at him. “The degree of my commitment,” she supplied.

“Yet he asks for your commitment to him.”

She drew a deep breath and for a moment concentrated
very hard on Lord Sidley’s supercilious nose. “I know
this is your home, Lord Sidley. And that at the moment I
am not quite a guest. I am in your employ-”

“I am your patron, Miss Ware. It is not the same.”

“But all the same,” she continued, “you overstep. Lieutenant Reeves is none of your affair.”

He did not look at her; he managed to look toward
her yet through her and to maintain that slight smile
upon his lips.

With his stoic silence she painted then at a furious
pace, feeling equally furious with herself for believing
that in speaking so, she might have overstepped. And when her aunt joined them, Marian took the opportunity
to release him from his pose until the morrow, though
she did not anticipate that Lord Sidley should ever wish
to renew the process.

“This is very good of you, Marian,” Edith said, moving to her side to review the painting’s beginning.

“‘Tis not `very good of’ me, Aunt, when the project
was unavoidable. I could not very well deny our host”

“And so it is very good of you, my dear,” Edith repeated equably. “What has overset you so? You are usually happiest to be painting anything. And this has started
very well indeed.”

“I intend to finish it as though demons pursued me,
Edith. For he is the most most insufferable sitter! Presumptuous and suggestive and-Oh! I vow I am tempted
to do something dreadful to his likeness, would it not reflect poorly on you and Katie and Edgar.”

Edith smiled. “But I know you will do a most superior
portrait, no matter the provocation, Marian, because that
is your nature. You must not let him trouble you; I am
convinced he merely teases. We’ve only a few days, after
all. And I doubt he shall concern himself in the slightest,
even if you should choose never to finish the painting.”

Marian stopped to stare at her. “Do you truly think so?
However eccentric he may sound on occasion, I believe
Lord Sidley is quite serious about a number of matters.
His portrait, for one-whether I complete something he
approves or not. And for another, he is most serious about
marriage.”

Edith drew a breath. “Oh, Marian-did he mention
Katie?”

“He did not, Aunt,” she said, instantly regretting that
temper had loosened her tongue. “He said only that he
must wed.”

Edith’s brow furrowed. “Adeline has been telling me
she expects him to decide rather soon. I fear-I fear,
Marian, that he may be more taken with Miss TinckneyDwight than our Katie.”

“Katie might be better out of it,” Marian countered
grimly, brushing paint unsparingly onto the canvas. “Do
you truly think she would be happy with a man like Lord
Sidley?”

“There are few like Lord Sidley, Marian,” Edith said
with a smile. “But Katie is still an impressionable girl.
She admires the man; in time she might learn true affection. He is not inattentive or cruel. Where is the want
of happiness in that?”

When Edith left, Marian silently continued her work,
so dedicated was she to accomplishing as much of the
piece as possible in the shortest time. But her aunt’s
question reminded her too acutely of her own qualms
with regard to William. And when she broke to join the
rest of the party at a late breakfast, she knew she was
far from satisfied with what had comprised nearly four
hours of effort.

Lord Sidley, still in his dark coat but sporting high
spirits, entertained all of them during the meal, then organized an outing to the local fair. Since Katie had sug gested the visit, Edith considered Sidley’s ready compliance a sign of his regard for her daughter. But Marian, observing her host as he escorted Katie and Delia to one of
several carriages, was convinced otherwise.

Their caravan joined a stream of other vehicles toward
the grounds of the annual fair at Turling, where booths
and tents displayed a variety of goods and entertainments. Given the town’s proximity to London and other
market centers, the merchandise tended more to the fresh
or the amusing, since people had access to many of the
necessities at any other time. Nonetheless, livestock
dealers vied for attention with traders in a wide range of
goods, while balladeers and musicians serenaded all attending. Marian enjoyed watching a puppet show with
her cousins, visiting a conjurer with the Pooles, nibbling
tasty gingerbread and buying a few locally crafted gifts
for friends and family.

She had been walking with the Pooles, when Dicky
left them briefly to speak to a neighbor with regard to
purchasing a horse.

Clara turned to her with a smile. “Your cousin, Lady
Katherine, is a most spirited young lady. She must be
very popular in town.”

“I believe she is, Miss Poole. She has always enjoyed
company and maintains a large circle of acquaintance.”

“Does she share your artistic interests, Miss Ware?”

Marian laughed and shook her head. “She appreciates fine things, Miss Poole. And Katie has an excellent
eye for detail. Her memory for dress and decor is truly remarkable. I find we complement each others’ deficits
in observation.”

“You are very fond of your cousin.”

“Yes. Yes, I am”

“Then I think, Miss Ware-I think you’d best prepare her. Lord Sidley is unlikely to let affection dictate
his choice.”

Affection! For Katie? As Marian watched Sidley tilt
his dark head toward Katie’s beribboned bonnet, her first
thought was that his indulgence should never be interpreted as affection or even a particular regard. But she
soon realized that Clara Poole was telling her something else entirely, and in as kind a manner as possible.

“You have Lord Sidley’s confidence?” she asked.

“My brother and I have been close to the family for
many years, Miss Ware. I know I risk-I risk sounding
presumptuous. But I mean only to help. I should hate to
think your cousin’s expectations were to be frustrated. I
do not know her heart”

“Whom has he-whom has he chosen?” Marian
asked, with a sick dread weighing upon her chest.

“I cannot know for certain. But Dicky and I believe
he will determine, logically and perhaps unfortunately,
that Miss TinckneyDwight suits his interests.”

Marian stayed with Clara Poole as they visited the
stalls of cloth merchants, furriers, candle and soap makers, and at last a hawker of wonderfully carved and
painted wooden toys. Marian’s attention fixed on a
charming, standing cat, holding a tiny brush, that would, upon pressing a button, turn repeatedly between a small
palette and an easel holding a painting of three kittens.
But though Clara Poole urged her to purchase the toy,
Marian was no longer in any mood to be entertained.
They joined the rest of the party outside a fortuneteller’s
tent.

“I would have all my guests submit,” Lord Sidley bid
them, gesturing the ladies inside, “as I have one task
yet to accomplish. At supper this evening I expect to
hear the prediction for each of you.”

“But what of you, Sidley?” Lord Benjamin asked with
a laugh, “Are we to create yours?’

“I know my fortune, Benny. Repeating it scarcely
improves it. You must put in a good word for me.” And
he departed, with the claim that he needed to engage
two new boys for Aldersham’s stables.

Marian watched him go with a sense of resignation.
He had not looked her way once all afternoon. Though
that was for the best, she found she could not like it. Her
misery increased when Delia TinckneyDwight smiled at
her.

“Do come sit with me, Miss Ware,” she said politely.
“I am convinced that some of your bright prospects must
in close quarters benefit my own”

And as they entered the dim sanctuary of the fortuneteller’s tent, Marian wished she did not find Delia half so
nice.

They were late back from the fair, but a festive dinner
awaited them, and Lady Adeline and Lady Formsby,
who had not accompanied them on the expedition,
wished to hear all about the afternoon’s outing.

Marian noted that the seating arrangements had been
carefully altered, such that Katie still sat next to Sidley,
but on his left, and Becca Harvey had moved to his right.
Delia TinckneyDwight now found her place at the center of the table, and Marian and Clara were shifted that
much farther from their host, to the end over which Lady
Adeline presided.

Marian liked Lady Adeline. Thus she could not quite
understand her discomfort around her hostess, who
was such a close friend of her cousin Edith. But there
was something a bit too assessing in the older woman’s gaze, something Marian deemed too closely observant
and not altogether warm. She suspected that Lady Adeline guessed at her attraction to Lord Sidley.

“So, Miss Ware,” she said now rather abruptly, and
speaking across Sir Philip, who sat between them,
“would you ever find an event such as the humble Turling fair worthy of a painting?”

“Indeed I would, my lady. Had I thought to take my
sketchbook, I suspect I’d have spent less time on purchases”

“Do you never draw from memory?”

“On occasion, certainly, ma’am. But there is something less … immediate, I suppose, about the result. I
must make an effort to remember what I’ve seen, and
I fear the labor shows”

Lady Adeline’s gaze appeared to soften. “My family
has always admired the arts. I myself was very fond of
drawing when I was younger.”

“I should like to see some of your drawings.”

But her hostess waved the suggestion aside. “Mere
scribbles, I assure you, Miss Ware. Suitable only for
prompting those few memories I retain.”

“I will not grant you any deficiency in memory, Lady
Adeline,” Sir Philip said gallantly.

“You have no notion, sir, of how many years I am
ahead of you! But your flattery is welcome nonetheless.”

As the two bantered, Marian turned to her right, to
Mr. Harvey. She had found him to be a very good,
forthright sort of man; he reminded her of the earnest shopkeepers and gentlemen farmers at her home in Brinford. Except, of course, that they could not claim to have
earned even a fraction of Mr. Harvey’s fortune.

He had been talking about his Becca, of her precocious ability with horses as a youngster and the splash
she had created in town that season. His ambition for
his daughter was quite as plain as his affection. Now he
glanced to the other end of the table.

“You have an artist’s eye, Miss Ware-do you not
think they look well together?” he asked.

And Marian was compelled to look toward Sidley,
whose dark head was at that moment inclined to catch
something Becca Harvey said.

“Yes,” she agreed softly, though in truth she thought
any of the young ladies under consideration would look
well with Lord Sidley.

Her gaze lingered too long. When Sidley broke his
conversation with a smile and glanced down the table,
his own gaze fastened on hers. Despite the smile, there
was such intensity in his look that Marian quickly withdrew her own. She mumbled some further meaningless
assent to Mr. Harvey, then played with her silver as he
described his visits to several counties in search of a suitable property to acquire.

As the course was removed, Sidley asked broadly of
the table, “When shall I have my report? Am I to believe in the old woman’s divinations after all?”

Several people responded at once.

But Katie, seated next to him, claimed his ear. “Well,
my lord,” she said boldly, “I was promised a handsome
husband.”