Suitors and Sabotage(18)
He felt a stirring of hope. Was it possible that all he needed was the right teacher? Could Imogene Chively succeed where the others had failed?
As he descended to the first story, Ben considered how he might go about asking for her help. Naturally, spending time in Imogene’s company would require his brother’s agreement first. But that was not the worst of it. He would have to admit his failing to a pretty young lady with a shy smile and a talent that would put all his masters to shame. He would have to swallow his pride and watch the admiration in her pretty blue eyes diminish. The prospect added a touch of the dismals to an otherwise uplifting morning.
chapter 5
In which Ernest steps into the light, metaphorically speaking
Watching Ben leave from the corner of her eye, Imogene sighed in resignation. There was no favoritism—not for Emily, not for herself. From their meeting in the dining room to moments ago, Ben had been affable, a gabster, considerate, and, well, most excellent company. He had stared at her hands overlong and hesitated before leaving, but she had a feeling those were merely the usual lapses of a young man in thought. Percy’s head was regularly in the clouds.
As to Emily … well, her friend might be disappointed that Ben showed only a moderate interest in the anecdotes of her, but it was more likely that she would see his lack of favoritism as a boon or even a challenge. She would not be disheartened; she would flutter her fan with even more panache.
When Emily joined Imogene in her studio just after Harriet had skipped away, Imogene noted that Emily had donned one of her most becoming gowns. The soft teal, multiple collars, and lace-covered décolleté served to bring the eye up to Emily’s face. Her color was high, naturally so, and … yes, she had a matching fan in hand.
“It would seem the gentlemen have disappeared,” Emily said with raised brows.
“You mean Ben, of course,” Imogene said with a smile as she collected the objects Harriet had been tasked to draw. “Did you try the castle?”
“I thought of it.… But I don’t want to appear too bold—as if I am setting my cap at him. I would rather Benjamin come to me.”
Laughing, Imogene removed her painting apron. “You might not see him until dinner, then.”
“I will keep my fan at the ready, just in case.” Emily sashayed across the floor, looked back over her shoulder, and then raised her fan to cover all but her eyes.
“Oh, well done!”
“Thank you.” Emily ruined the mysterious effect by breaking into a grin. “I have been practicing. You’ll have to try it with Ernest.”
Imogene’s smile froze. “Perhaps,” she said as lightly as she could, and then led the way to the stairs.
*
IMOGENE SPENT THE rest of the day trying not to think about either of the Steeple boys. She stayed sequestered through the afternoon with the ladies idling on the patio. Emily read, Imogene sketched, the younger girls played a string game, and the mothers gossiped. It was a normal summer day. Even when Jake threw a bucket of water from the window, soaking Pauline, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
And yet, as much as she tried, Imogene could not get either Ernest or Ben out of her mind. It was the height of ridiculousness, for dwelling on the matter didn’t help one iota. She did not know how she felt about Ernest—that could not change until they spent some time together. And as to Ben, she had to discover a way to not find every move he made, every twitch of his brow, or every smile … appealing. It might be simpler to admit a modicum of awareness and attribute it to the possibility of being related—by way of marriage—someday.… Oh dear, that brought her right back to Ernest.
“Where are the gentlemen?” Emily asked in an excessively casual tone partway through the afternoon. She met Imogene’s gaze and grinned. “Shouldn’t they be back from the lake by now?”
Mrs. Beeswanger turned and squinted into the shade where Emily and Imogene were seated. “They have been back for some time, my dears. I believe they are with Mr. Tabard, playing billiards. Jake and Percy have joined them as well.”
Emily frowned. “Really? You would think that they would want to be out of doors on such a fine day.”
“Perhaps they had had enough of the sun and warmth. Gentlemen feel the heat so much more than us ladies.”
Emily huffed and went back to reading.
It was a quiet afternoon.
*
THE GAIETY OF the evening impressed Imogene as being entirely false until dinner was complete. Ernest and Ben had indeed met the Tabards, and while Jake was the same age as the Steeple brothers, they had little in common. The conversation at dinner was awkward, a few comments about the winning shots at billiards and the catch of trout that had made its way to the table. Even Ben’s attempt to engage Miss Watson in an intellectual discourse about natural history was strained.
When Emily suggested an impromptu dance, the idea was quickly taken up with relief. The footmen were instructed, and the entire party retired to the music room, where the carpet had been rolled out of the way and the furniture set against the walls.
The elder members of the group collected at the far end of the room, near the open windows, to enjoy the draft and watch and appreciate the grace and high spirits of their fledglings. Without a word to anyone, Miss Watson sat at the piano and began to play.
It was a somber piece, not at all suited for dancing, but the company smiled politely and then encouraged her to choose something a little more lively. She complied readily enough, and, at last, the room was filled with merriment as eight young people prepared to be frivolous. Though Harriet should have been abed, Mrs. Beeswanger allowed that she might stay up another half hour … or so.