Page 35 of The Marriage Wager

She had only to remember his smile to be suddenly giddy. And when she thought of his hand upon her arm, his long masculine fingers curling around her flesh, warm and strong, she felt again the same surge of heat and hunger that had swept through her then.

Lord Leighton was not for her; she knew that. She should be sober and realistic and put all thoughts of him out of her head right now. But she could not. All she could think of was seeing him again tomorrow.

CHAPTER NINE

AFTER BREAKFAST THE NEXT morning, Constance stopped by Francesca’s room again. She learned that Francesca’s fever had passed in the night and she was feeling better, though sleeping. Maisie obviously had everything well in hand, and Constance could find no reason to stay.

She made her way downstairs, somewhat at sixes and sevens. The men, she had heard at the breakfast table, had gone out early to hunt, and there appeared to be no other particular entertainment scheduled for today. She felt a trifle out of place without Francesca there, as if she were somehow there under false pretenses. She considered going to the library and finding a book to wile away her time in her room, but that seemed unsociable, perhaps even rude.

In the end she strolled along the central hallway downstairs until she came to a small sitting room, somewhat more casual than the music room or the large drawing room. Several women were seated inside, including her aunt and Lady Selbrooke, as well as Lady Rutherford and the two Norton sisters, who looked less lively this morning. Constance was not sure whether their silence and heavy lids were the result of overtaxing themselves the day before or merely boredom with the company.

She hesitated at the doorway, thinking of turning back, but the Nortons looked up and saw her.

“Miss Woodley!”

“Do come in and sit with us.”

One of the girls stood up and hurried over to her, taking Constance’s arm as though she feared she might get away and guiding her over to the sofa upon which the sisters sat. Given their enthusiastic greeting, Constance decided that it was the older women’s company that had made the sisters sluggish.

“Did you enjoy the trip to St. Edmund’s?” Elinor Norton asked.

“Yes, it was quite interesting,” Constance replied.

Before she could go on, her aunt jumped in, exclaiming, “Of course she enjoyed it. How could she not? It was most educational. I vow, my own two girls could talk of nothing else yesterday evening. It is such a lovely church, Lady Selbrooke,” she told her hostess, as if St. Edmund’s was some sort of personal achievement of her ladyship.

She continued to run on at length about the many delights of the church. Next to Constance, Lydia and Elinor Norton moved restlessly in their seats, and Constance could see Lady Rutherford exchange a look of irritation with Lady Selbrooke. Constance felt her own cheeks burn with embarrassment for her aunt, but it was clear that Aunt Blanche felt none at all, clearly unaware of her audience’s reaction.

Trying to save her aunt from herself, Constance reentered the conversation as soon as her aunt paused to draw breath, and asked Elinor what she and her sister planned to do that afternoon.

“We had thought we might go for a walk in the garden,” Elinor told her, perking up a little.

“We heard it is quite lovely,” Lydia joined in. “Would you care to join us?”

“What a splendid idea,” Aunt Blanche chimed in. “You young people should explore the gardens. No doubt my own two would love to go, as well. I took a small stroll myself about them this morning, and it was most delightful.”

Her aunt continued on the wonders of the garden at some length. Constance tried another time or two to stem the flow of her aunt’s words and bring someone else into the conversation, but each time Aunt Blanche almost immediately turned the talk back to herself. It seemed to Constance that her aunt must have some perverse desire to irritate everyone around her.

At last Lady Selbrooke rose, which did cause Aunt Blanche’s river of words to pause for a moment.

“I am sorry, but I hope you will excuse me,” Lady Selbrooke said, offering them a tight smile. “I must speak to the housekeeper about the menu for tonight.” With a nod to them all, she left the room.

“Such a distinguished lady,” Aunt Blanche commented. “A wonderful woman.”

“Yes, poor woman, she has had to bear a great deal,” Lady Rutherford agreed.

“Indeed?” Aunt Blanche turned to look at the other woman, her eyes bright with interest.

Lady Rutherford, Constance reflected, had found the best way to quiet her aunt: offer the possibility of gossip.

“There has been a great deal of tragedy in her life,” Lady Rutherford went on. “Her youngest child died ten or twelve years ago. She was only sixteen. Then the eldest son, the heir, Terence, was thrown by his horse and broke his neck, only two years past. She was devastated, of course. Lord Selbrooke, as well. Terence was the apple of their eye. Such a handsome man. If he had lived, it would have been he, of course, whom Muriel—” She stopped and shook her head. “But that is neither here nor there. The fact is that he died, and Dominic became the heir.”

Lady Rutherford sighed. She looked around at the other people in the room, and it seemed to Constance that her gaze pointedly lingered when it reached her.

“I fear Lord Leighton has been something of a disappointment to them,” she went on.

She paused, and Constance suspected that she was waiting for someone to ask why he had been a disappointment. Constance determinedly said nothing; she was not about to encourage this woman to gossip about Dominic.

Unfortunately, her aunt could always be relied upon to encourage anyone to gossip. “In what way?” she inquired.