Mr. Cavendish, I Presume
Page 20
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Apart from his disappearance from the scene. That, at least, was precisely as expected.
“We will accompany Lady Amelia and her sister back to Burges Park,” the dowager ordered. “Miss Eversleigh, have our carriage readied at once. We will ride with our guests and then return in our own convey-ance.”
Grace’s lips parted with surprise, but she was accustomed to the dowager and her furious whims, and so she nodded and hurried toward the front of the castle.
“Elizabeth!” Amelia said desperately, spotting her sister in the doorway. The traitorous wretch had already turned on the ball of her foot and was attempting to slink away, leaving her to deal with the dowager by herself.
Amelia reached out and grabbed her elbow, reeling her in with a teeth-grinding, “Sister, dear.”
“My tea,” Elizabeth said feebly, motioning toward the drawing room.
“Is cold,” Amelia said firmly.
Elizabeth attempted a weak smile in the dowager’s direction, but the expression did not make it much beyond grimace.
“Sarah,” the dowager said.
Elizabeth didn’t bother to correct her.
“Or Jane,” the dowager snapped. “Which is it?”
“Elizabeth,” Elizabeth said.
The dowager’s eyes narrowed, as if she didn’t quite believe her, and her nostrils flared most unattractively as she said, “I see you accompanied your sister again.”
“She accompanied me,” Elizabeth said, in what Amelia was quite certain was the most controversial sentence she’d ever uttered in the dowager’s presence.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Er, I was returning the books my mother borrowed,”
Elizabeth stammered.
“Bah! Your mother doesn’t read, and we all know it.
It’s a silly and transparent excuse to send her”—at this she motioned to Amelia—“into our midst.”
Amelia’s lips parted with surprise, because she’d always thought that the dowager wanted her in her midst. Not that the dowager liked her, just that she wanted her to hurry up and marry her grandson so she might start growing little Wyndhams in her belly.
“It’s an acceptable excuse,” the dowager grumbled,
“but it hardly seems to be working. Where is my grandson?”
“I do not know, your grace,” Amelia answered. Which was the absolute truth. He’d not given her any indication of his plans when he abandoned her earlier. He’d apparently kissed her so senseless he hadn’t thought any explanations were necessary.
“Stupid chit,” the dowager muttered. “I don’t have time for this. Does no one understand their duty? I’ve heirs dying off right and left, and you”—at this she shoved Amelia in the shoulder—“can’t even lift your skirts to—”
“Your grace!” Amelia exclaimed.
The dowager’s mouth clamped shut, and for a moment Amelia thought she might have realized she’d gone too far. All she did, however, was narrow her eyes to vicious little slits and stalk off.
“Amelia?” Elizabeth said, moving to her side.
Amelia blinked. Several times. Quickly. “I want to go home.”
Elizabeth nodded comfortingly.
Together the sisters walked toward the front door.
Grace was giving instructions to a footman, so they walked outside and waited for her in the drive. The afternoon had grown a bit chilly, but Amelia would not have cared if the heavens had opened up and drenched them both. She just wanted to be out of that wretched house. “I’m not coming next time,”
she said to Elizabeth, hugging her arms to her chest.
If Wyndham wished to finally court her, he could come to see her.
“I’m not coming, either,” Elizabeth said, glancing dubiously back at the house. Grace emerged at that moment, so she waited for her to step into the drive, then linked her arm in hers and asked, “Was it my imagination or was the dowager worse than usual? ”
“Much worse,” Amelia agreed.
Grace sighed, and her face moved a little, as if she were thinking the better of the first set of words that had come to mind. Finally, she just said, “It’s . . . complicated.”
There didn’t seem to be anything to say in response to that, so Amelia watched curiously as Grace pretended to adjust the straps of her bonnet, and then—
Grace froze.
They all froze. And then Amelia and Elizabeth followed Grace’s stare. There was a man at the end of the drive, much too far away to see his face, or really anything other than the dark hue of his hair and the fact that he sat atop a horse as if he’d been born to the saddle.
The moment hung suspended in time, silent and still, and then, seemingly for no reason at all, he rode away.
Amelia’s lips came together to ask Grace who he was, but before she could speak, the dowager stepped outside and barked, “Into the carriage!” And as Amelia did not wish to enter into any sort of dialogue with her, she decided to follow orders and keep her mouth shut.
A few moments later they were all settled into the Crowland carriage, Grace and Elizabeth facing back, Amelia stuck facing front next to the dowager. She kept her face forward, focusing on a little spot behind Grace’s ear. If she could just hold this pose for the next half an hour, she might escape without having to lay eyes on the dowager.
“Who was that man?” Elizabeth asked.
No response.
Amelia shifted her gaze to Grace’s face. This was most interesting. She was pretending that she had not heard Elizabeth’s query. It was easy to see through the ruse if one was facing her; the right corner of her mouth had tightened with concern.
“We will accompany Lady Amelia and her sister back to Burges Park,” the dowager ordered. “Miss Eversleigh, have our carriage readied at once. We will ride with our guests and then return in our own convey-ance.”
Grace’s lips parted with surprise, but she was accustomed to the dowager and her furious whims, and so she nodded and hurried toward the front of the castle.
“Elizabeth!” Amelia said desperately, spotting her sister in the doorway. The traitorous wretch had already turned on the ball of her foot and was attempting to slink away, leaving her to deal with the dowager by herself.
Amelia reached out and grabbed her elbow, reeling her in with a teeth-grinding, “Sister, dear.”
“My tea,” Elizabeth said feebly, motioning toward the drawing room.
“Is cold,” Amelia said firmly.
Elizabeth attempted a weak smile in the dowager’s direction, but the expression did not make it much beyond grimace.
“Sarah,” the dowager said.
Elizabeth didn’t bother to correct her.
“Or Jane,” the dowager snapped. “Which is it?”
“Elizabeth,” Elizabeth said.
The dowager’s eyes narrowed, as if she didn’t quite believe her, and her nostrils flared most unattractively as she said, “I see you accompanied your sister again.”
“She accompanied me,” Elizabeth said, in what Amelia was quite certain was the most controversial sentence she’d ever uttered in the dowager’s presence.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Er, I was returning the books my mother borrowed,”
Elizabeth stammered.
“Bah! Your mother doesn’t read, and we all know it.
It’s a silly and transparent excuse to send her”—at this she motioned to Amelia—“into our midst.”
Amelia’s lips parted with surprise, because she’d always thought that the dowager wanted her in her midst. Not that the dowager liked her, just that she wanted her to hurry up and marry her grandson so she might start growing little Wyndhams in her belly.
“It’s an acceptable excuse,” the dowager grumbled,
“but it hardly seems to be working. Where is my grandson?”
“I do not know, your grace,” Amelia answered. Which was the absolute truth. He’d not given her any indication of his plans when he abandoned her earlier. He’d apparently kissed her so senseless he hadn’t thought any explanations were necessary.
“Stupid chit,” the dowager muttered. “I don’t have time for this. Does no one understand their duty? I’ve heirs dying off right and left, and you”—at this she shoved Amelia in the shoulder—“can’t even lift your skirts to—”
“Your grace!” Amelia exclaimed.
The dowager’s mouth clamped shut, and for a moment Amelia thought she might have realized she’d gone too far. All she did, however, was narrow her eyes to vicious little slits and stalk off.
“Amelia?” Elizabeth said, moving to her side.
Amelia blinked. Several times. Quickly. “I want to go home.”
Elizabeth nodded comfortingly.
Together the sisters walked toward the front door.
Grace was giving instructions to a footman, so they walked outside and waited for her in the drive. The afternoon had grown a bit chilly, but Amelia would not have cared if the heavens had opened up and drenched them both. She just wanted to be out of that wretched house. “I’m not coming next time,”
she said to Elizabeth, hugging her arms to her chest.
If Wyndham wished to finally court her, he could come to see her.
“I’m not coming, either,” Elizabeth said, glancing dubiously back at the house. Grace emerged at that moment, so she waited for her to step into the drive, then linked her arm in hers and asked, “Was it my imagination or was the dowager worse than usual? ”
“Much worse,” Amelia agreed.
Grace sighed, and her face moved a little, as if she were thinking the better of the first set of words that had come to mind. Finally, she just said, “It’s . . . complicated.”
There didn’t seem to be anything to say in response to that, so Amelia watched curiously as Grace pretended to adjust the straps of her bonnet, and then—
Grace froze.
They all froze. And then Amelia and Elizabeth followed Grace’s stare. There was a man at the end of the drive, much too far away to see his face, or really anything other than the dark hue of his hair and the fact that he sat atop a horse as if he’d been born to the saddle.
The moment hung suspended in time, silent and still, and then, seemingly for no reason at all, he rode away.
Amelia’s lips came together to ask Grace who he was, but before she could speak, the dowager stepped outside and barked, “Into the carriage!” And as Amelia did not wish to enter into any sort of dialogue with her, she decided to follow orders and keep her mouth shut.
A few moments later they were all settled into the Crowland carriage, Grace and Elizabeth facing back, Amelia stuck facing front next to the dowager. She kept her face forward, focusing on a little spot behind Grace’s ear. If she could just hold this pose for the next half an hour, she might escape without having to lay eyes on the dowager.
“Who was that man?” Elizabeth asked.
No response.
Amelia shifted her gaze to Grace’s face. This was most interesting. She was pretending that she had not heard Elizabeth’s query. It was easy to see through the ruse if one was facing her; the right corner of her mouth had tightened with concern.
