Magical Weddings (8 page)

“I’d rather sit this one out.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You love to waltz–even with me.”

That was true, and she tapped her toe as the music started. “All right, but only because looking like a wallflower would be worse.” Simon was an excellent dancer, she admitted as he swirled her around the room. He should have had no shortage of partners, which meant he had sought her out for another reason.

I told you to fix it…

He smiled down at her, a challenging glint in his eyes, but before he could speak, Celia said, “It’s not my fault Prudence still seems enamored of you. Perhaps she discovered that she likes you after all. I can’t understand why she would feel that way, but…”

“Give it some thought,” he said cryptically. “How are your suitors ranking at the moment? Is there a favorite?”

“If there was, I wouldn’t tell
you
!”

He smiled. “Draycott didn’t win your heart over dinner?”

“Pleasant though it is to hear praise of my gleaming hair, my sparkling eyes, and my charming demeanor—”

“Hmm. As a matter of fact, your hair
does
gleam, and your eyes
do
sparkle.”

Celia’s heartbeat quickened–no doubt because she was unaccustomed to hearing anything flattering from Simon.

“But your demeanor?” His tone was matter of fact, but his dimple flashed, the sure indication he was teasing her. “Charming? He was telling quite a bouncer there.”

She glared at him. “As I was saying, I’d have much rather heard about his home, or his horses, or his plans for his estates—”

“That’s a bit mercenary of you.”

“— or his family. And I don’t mean their noble ancestry, but what he thinks of them. Whether he has sisters, or what his mother is like.”

“So he’s still in the running, then? I was beginning to be concerned about your attachment to Lord Billings. Having you around all the time would take his mind off his digestion–though I’ll warrant you wouldn’t improve it.”

How very like Simon–to be more concerned about Lord Bilious than about his own cousin. Celia would have made a face at him, but he swept her around in a graceful turn and she remembered how many people were watching, so she gave him a brilliant smile instead, and when the dance ended she demonstrated her best curtsy.

He laughed at her and went off to dance with Jane. Lord Stone, in his stiff way, came across the room to partner Celia.

Midway through the evening the orchestra took a break, and the ladies retired upstairs to check their hair. The Carew sisters’ bedroom door was open as Celia passed, and she saw Dimity’s maid on the floor at her feet, mending a torn ruffle

“I believe her,” Dimity said firmly.

“Which time?” Prudence asked tartly.

“You didn’t hear her stumbling through the explanation. I’d swear she was sorry—”

“Sorry she told us, yes. I suspect she thought better of it because she wants him for herself. Did you see the way she smiled at him when they were waltzing?”

Celia knew she should have realized it wouldn’t be easy to fix the misunderstanding.

But wanting Simon for herself? The idea was ludicrous. How foolish could two girls be?

Well, it is the Carews. Perhaps that explains everything.

****

Prudence snagged another country dance with Simon, as did Dimity–who must have come around to her sister’s way of thinking. Or perhaps she just wanted to preserve all her options. But when the time came for the supper waltz, Simon presented himself to Celia once more.

She shook her head. “I can’t waltz with you twice in an evening.”

“You don’t want to waltz with anyone else here. Draycott stepped on Miss Dimity’s hem. Lord Lockwood moves like an elephant. Lord Tavish can’t see beyond his bride, and Lord Stone…”

“Go away!”

“I am heartbroken,” he said, but he went–and all through Celia’s waltz with Lord Bilious–
Billings!
–she regretted her choice. The viscount rattled the entire time about the shortcomings of Lord Stone’s kitchen, which at least left her free to think.

What was Simon up to? Was he
trying
to make the Carew sisters believe he was courting his cousin? Surely not–but he might be applying the advice Celia herself had given him, only in a different direction. She’d advised him to court the Carews so Lady Hester couldn’t take him for granted. But with the two sisters taking him far too seriously for comfort, had he decided to focus on Celia instead?

What a buffle-headed, dicked-in-the-nob thing for him to do!

****

When the ball finally ended, Celia dawdled till she was almost the last to go upstairs, but she had no opportunity to catch Simon alone. Tomorrow, perhaps?–but they’d be going to church, and Lady Stone had mentioned a picnic. Something had to be done now.

Her maid was waiting in her bedroom, half-asleep by the fire, but Celia dismissed her. “I’ll get myself to bed, Daisy.”

She waited anxiously, her bedroom door barely cracked open, until the house had quieted. Then Celia crept down the darkened corridor toward the room where Jane had directed Simon on the day they arrived. Her heart thundered at the audacity of what she was doing–sneaking into a man’s room, without even carrying a candle to make it seem she was on some legitimate errand, if someone were to spot her.

But as she neared the corner where the two corridors intersected, Simon’s door creaked open. Instinct saved her, making her duck into a shadowed niche at the top of the stairs. She peeked out in time to see Lady Hester slipping into Simon’s room.

Celia’s heart almost stopped. Not only was Hester visiting a man in his bedroom, but the pale pink ball gown she’d worn that evening had given way to a plain dark wrapper which, along with her black hair, made her almost disappear in the unlit corridor.

Celia waited for as long as she dared, but Simon’s door remained firmly closed. Finally, still reeling from the shock, she tiptoed back to her room.

So that was the real secret, was it? Simon and Lady Hester were playing at indifference in public–but in the shadows of the night, things were very different indeed.

The site for their picnic was a small lake which lay behind Rockhill House, on the far side of the expanse of gardens–and Lady Stone made it clear, when they gathered on the terrace behind the house, that they were expected to walk there. Celia didn’t mind; the faint breeze which caressed her face and teased at the pink ribbons on her wide-brimmed hat carried the scent of heliotrope, and in the elm trees which bordered the garden, birds warbled.

“The stroll will do you all good,” Lady Stone announced as Lord Billings helped her into the chaise directly below the terrace. “I know I would enjoy the exercise myself, if only I were able.”

“She’s
able
to do whatever she really wants,” Dimity muttered. “And why is Lord Bilious allowed to ride with her if we cannot?”

Celia shrugged. “I’d rather walk than have Lord Stone shoot nasty looks at me over how the chaise wheels are cutting up the lawns.”

Dimity looked thoughtfully at the ruts, and a moment later she had crossed the terrace to lay her hand possessively on his lordship’s arm while she commiserated about his aunt’s carelessness.

Prudence narrowed her eyes as she inspected the company. “Perhaps I’ll settle for Lord Lockwood, since Mr. Montrose and Lady Hester seem to be planning to walk together.”

Celia whipped around to see for herself. Simon and Lady Hester stood at a corner of the terrace, looking so intent that they might as well have been alone on the moon. Simon shook his head, and a moment later, when Lord Lockwood approached the pair, Lady Hester took his arm with only a hint of hesitation, walking away from Simon without a backward glance.

What a very strange little non-conversation that was.

Celia didn’t realize she was staring at Simon–trying to read his expression as he watched Hester walk away–until Baron Draycott flourished a bow. “Miss Overton, if I might have the pleasure?”

I’d rather not,
she almost said.
I need to make certain Simon is all right.

But that would only make her seem foolish, so she smiled and laid her hand on his arm. “Of course, sir. Is your home set in such pleasant surroundings as Rockhill?” Perhaps once started on the topic, he would while away the entire walk and let her think in peace.

“That just leaves you and me, Mr. Montrose,” Prudence murmured, casting a seemingly-bashful look up at him through her lashes.

Celia noted the unenthusiastic way Simon bowed. “And Miss Jane, of course. Fortunately I have two arms.”

Celia bit back a smile, and then sobered. Simon really was gifted at extracting himself from complicated situations. If only he would use that talent to rid himself of Lady Hester before scandal caught up with them!

They walked in a neat little procession, and as they emerged from the trees and the view of the lake opened out before them, Prudence stopped so suddenly that Celia almost ran into her. “
That
is our picnic site?”

Lord Stone sighed, but he didn’t answer.

Celia looked past them to where still water reflected a crystal blue sky dotted with lazy clouds. A blue haze lay over the hills beyond. Near the shore, a handful of servants spread cloths across the grass. Baskets stood open; Lord Stone’s butler opened wine bottles, and two footmen placed a large upholstered chair where the occupant would have the best view of the lake.

“What’s wrong with it?” Celia asked.

Prudence rolled her eyes. “Of course
you
wouldn’t know how civilized people picnic. Generally there are tables and real chairs for everyone, not just the hostess because she’s old and a bit lame. No wonder Imogene and Lord Tavish are spending the day with his family.”

“One expects damask cloths at least,” Dimity added, “and china. I wonder if we’ll be dining on bread and cheese. What were you thinking, Jane, to call this a picnic?”

“I think it’s charming,” Celia said.

Simon added, “What is the point of moving outside if one simply takes the entire dining room–and the usual menu–along?”

Jane’s grateful smile lit up her face.

She’s quite pretty, really–but of course he’ll never look at her. Not with Hester slipping into his bedroom.

The footmen passed quietly among them with trays of wineglasses. When everyone had been served, Lord Lockwood raised his glass. “If you’ll all lend an ear, I have an announcement. Nuptials are in the air, it seems. This morning, Lady Hester has made me the happiest of men by finally agreeing to my suit.” He smiled at his betrothed, who shyly cast her gaze down. “My patience has been rewarded. The arrangements have yet to be finalized, but since the details have been under discussion for some time, our wedding will not be long delayed.”

Celia dutifully sipped her wine and tried not to look at Simon. She didn’t want to draw attention to him in case his expression let slip how wounded he must feel. But she couldn’t keep herself from darting glances his way, and she was pleased to see he was putting a good face on it–drinking the health of the couple and smiling convincingly at Hester. Perhaps that was what Hester had been telling him on the terrace–warning him of the impending announcement.

Dimity muttered, “We should have expected Hester would snag the wealthiest of the gentlemen.”

“Why shouldn’t she?” Prudence asked reasonably. “You said you didn’t want him. And as for me… well, I much prefer someone else.” Her gaze, Celia couldn’t help but notice, rested warmly on Simon.

****

Baron Draycott sat beside Celia for their al fresco meal, and afterwards he asked if she would care to stroll around the lake with him. When Celia hesitated, Lady Stone stepped in. “It’s such a small lake that the entire shoreline is in view from my chair. You hardly need more chaperoning than that, my dear.”

They were barely a quarter of the way around the lake, however, when the baron said, “There’s a small folly just off this path, if you would care to see it. I am told it is a jewel of its kind.”

“Sir, I hardly think Lady Stone would approve.”

He smiled. “With any luck at all, she’ll have nodded off for a nap and will never know. But if you insist, we’ll stay on the path. I must warn you, however–I’m not getting down on one knee in front of an audience.”

“Why would you… oh!”

He turned to face her, seizing both her hands. “My dear Miss Overton, our acquaintance has been short, but my feelings are strong and clear, and Lady Imogene’s wedding has made me think of the future. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Celia could barely breathe. The baron was everything she had wished for–a gentleman with title and estates, no more than ten years older than she was. He was both presentable and good-natured.

We must hope you find a gentleman who retains his hair and a reasonable number of teeth.

So much for Simon’s standards. If anything, the baron had too much hair. And his smile was perfectly pleasant.

But why was she thinking of Simon when she had just received a most flattering offer? Why hadn’t she already accepted?

Celia looked past the baron to where sunlight sparkled across ripples on the surface of the lake. What on earth had prompted Simon to take a rowboat–and a young woman–out on the water? No–there were two young women in the boat. Of course; it was Simon, after all.

“Miss Overton?” the baron prompted.

A little voice seemed to whisper in her ear–a voice which sounded uncomfortably like her cousin.
You’d be bored out of your mind with him, you know.

Celia took a deep breath. “My lord, I do thank you, and I am much flattered by your offer. But I fear we would not be happy together.”

“But…” the baron sputtered. “But you were asking about my home! Surely you were hinting that an offer to make you the mistress of that home would not be ill-received.”

“I meant only to make conversation, sir. I am sorry if I misled you–but I believe we should not suit. I think it best if we turn back now.”