And Then She Fell(23)
Reliving the horror again and again could hardly be pleasant.
But she nodded. “Yes.” Glancing up, she met his eyes. “I expected the interest, and with any luck, that should be the worst of it behind us.”
“Hmm.” He studied her eyes, then looked ahead. “Next time we’re about to walk into an inquisition like that, do, please, warn me.”
She chuckled.
“And,” he went on, “I’m not at all sure I approve of being labeled a Sir Galahad. I’m not even certain Sir Galahad could swim.”
“It’s the principle of the thing.” She hesitated, then looked up at him and said, “And I assure you it will do your quest no harm to be painted in such a light.”
“Hmm.” How to break it to her that he wasn’t all that keen on impressing even the buxom Miss Chisolm? Not now. “I’m . . . not sure that—”
Henrietta pinched his arm, then smiled amiably as Mrs. Julian and her niece, Miss Chester, walked by. Once the pair were past, Henrietta murmured, “They all have ears, you know. And, incidentally, what about Miss Chester?”
James glanced down at her. “She’s too thin.”
Henrietta blinked. “I wouldn’t have labeled her thin—fashionably willowy, perhaps.”
“Thin,” James insisted; when she glanced up, he’d looked ahead, but she saw his jaw set. “And she’s too young. Not Miss Chester.”
She arched her brows and looked ahead, too. “Very well. Admittedly she is rather young.”
They continued slowly strolling about the conservatory. When it came to him, she wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore—no, she did know. She wanted to learn what he had meant by holding her hand all the way home last night. How was she supposed to interpret that? Yet this morning he hadn’t alluded to those moments, or to any . . . connection between them, not in any way. When in the carriage on the way to Osterley Park she’d talked gaily about the prospects of gaining more names for his list, he’d only grunted and let her rattle on.
So what was she to think?
What was she to make of it all—of the necklace, and him?
After several minutes of silence, she drew breath and said, “Thus far we have Miss Chisolm and Miss Downtree on our list—we really need to expand our horizons. You can’t have a viable short list with only two names.” She’d offered to help him find his necessary bride, and she would fulfill her self-imposed obligation.
“I have to wonder if keeping as short a short list as possible isn’t a sensible strategy. That way, I won’t have to try to remember the attributes of too many females all at once. You must know that male brains aren’t as capable as female ones when it comes to recalling details.”
Henrietta would have scoffed, but Lady Jersey appeared and clapped her hands. “Come along, everyone! It’s time to set out. We’ll be using the bluebell dell today. I know several of you know the way, so please”—her ladyship waved them to the doors at the end of the conservatory—“do lead on.”
The guests formed into chattering groups as they exited the conservatory.
“I take it you know the way to this dell?” James inquired as he and Henrietta brought up the rear.
“Yes. It’s a frequent site for Lady Jersey’s picnics.” Henrietta looked ahead. “Not that there’s any danger of anyone getting lost. We just follow the path and everyone else, and when we find the picnic hampers and rugs, along with the footmen, we stop.”
James choked on a laugh.
But he quickly lost all inclination to humor; a Miss Quilley and her mother, spying him and Henrietta ambling in the rear, dropped back to walk with them, and better display Miss Quilley’s charms. Such as they were.
Not having any great fondness for artlessly vapid conversation, James wasn’t impressed, but at Henrietta’s warning glance, he hid his disapprobation behind his customary ready charm.
But the necessity irked. And the subtle abrasion of social demands trumping his inclinations, and his instincts, only grew worse.
They reached Lady Jersey’s “bluebell dell,” a large clearing dotted, it was true, with bluebells, albeit a little past their prime. Picnic rugs had been spread beneath the circling trees, and hampers lay with their contents enticingly displayed, inviting the guests to lounge and partake. But the current fashion for rustic charm extended only so far; the paths leading to and out of the dell passed through largely formal gardens and structured landscapes. The illusion of being in the countryside was wafer-thin—quite aside from the liveried footmen who stood beneath the trees, ready to assist with the opening of a wine bottle and the consequent pouring of libations, or providing any other help her ladyship’s guests required.