Suitors and Sabotage(26)
“I have decided to wait a little while longer.” Ernest nodded, agreeing with himself.
Ben huffed in frustration. Ernest had never rushed toward change. In fact, when his brother had become suddenly enamored with the shy Imogene Chively in London, Ben had thought that Ernest had overcome his aversion to impulsiveness. Accepting the invitation to dwell among strangers, even if only for a seven-night, he thought to be a sign of Ernest’s tremendous attachment.… But now he hesitated.
“Well, you might get permission to write. Her parents should be amenable. And your prose is quite eloquent in a blousy, boring sort of manner.”
“Thanks ever so.”
“Still, it will probably impress your lady-fair and give Imogene … and you … the time—”
“No need.” Ernest’s expression lightened—with a decided twinkle to his eye. It usually spelled trouble.
“Oh Lud. What have you done?” Looking across the yard, Ben watched a chicken round the stable corner. Where was the coach … or the ladies, for that matter?
“I have accepted an invitation.”
Another chicken joined the first, and they set about scratching in the dirt.
“Have I accepted, as well?” Ben could finally hear the clop of hooves on cobblestone. The landau would soon follow the chickens.
“Most certainly. You were very pleased to accept.”
“Was I, indeed?” Ben harrumphed, returning his gaze to his brother. “You realize, Ernest, that I cannot traipse after you all summer. I have my own pursuits.”
“Of course, but this fits in handsomely with your plans.”
“Does it?” He waited, hoping to be convinced—since it would seem he had little choice in the matter.
“Yes. The Beeswangers have asked us to join the company at Shackleford Park. Apparently, all are to Tishdale within a fortnight. This visiting back and forth over the summer is a decades-old tradition.”
“Yes, I had heard something in that order.” Ben tried to maintain his glower. He did not want Ernest to know that he actually did approve of the idea. Not only would Ben get a chance to appreciate the architecture of the Park, but Imogene could also continue his drawing lessons. It would do rather nicely.
“That will give me more time to ready.”
Ben laughed. “To ready yourself or Imogene?”
“Both, I imagine.”
Ben continued to chuckle as the door at their backs squeaked open.
“Ah, there you are,” Emily said as she and Imogene stepped across the threshold. She was pulling on a pair of soft yellow gloves that matched her gown and the ribbon in her bonnet. Imogene was dressed in blue—a light sky sort of blue … that had an identifying name that eluded him. “Cerulean?” he asked, pointing to her skirts.
She smiled. “Azure.”
Emily glanced up at Ernest with a lifted brow—either puzzled or surprised—and ignored the exchange. “I’m afraid Pauline and Harriet have decided they are not interested in the view from Foxhill after all. So once again, it will be just the four of us.” She tried to turn down the corners of her mouth as if she were disappointed but was less than successful.
“That’s a shame,” Ben said without conviction. “The girls had seemed quite taken with the idea at luncheon.”
“Yes, well, Mama thought that a little shopping in Fotheringham was more to their taste.” Emily tipped her head to the side, offering Ben a saucy grin. “The offer of sweets and new ribbons can quickly change one’s mind about a lovely vista.”
Ernest laughed. “Indeed.”
During this exchange, Mr. Fowler had pulled the carriage to a neat stop in front of the group, alit, and come round to help his passengers into the landau. He waited patiently beside the stepping-block, doing his best to appear unaware of the conversation.
Ernest nodded a thank-you to the elderly coachman, offering to hand up the ladies in his stead. Emily was seated easily enough, but Imogene required more attention. Well, not really, but Ernest made a process of the deed—almost ceremonial.
Taking her left hand in his, Ernest cupped Imogene’s elbow with his right. He led her to the carriage and provided support as she negotiated the tremendous height to the block, and then onto the step and into the vehicle. Unfortunately, his hold was a tad overlong; she had to turn around and ask Ernest to release her. She stared at her hand with what appeared to be a troubled expression for some moments—standing across the threshold—until Emily called, breaking into Imogene’s thoughts.
It did not bode well.
By the time they were all seated comfortably, Imogene’s color had receded from the bright red of embarrassment and Ernest had no idea that he had caused Imogene any anxiety. Ben understood Ernest’s desire to touch Imogene—opportunities were few and far between—but he had done himself a disservice.
Ben sighed inwardly as the carriage rolled through the Gracebridge gates and out onto the main road. Perhaps Ernest had the right of it: Imogene was not yet ready to accept his proposal of marriage, and Ernest was not yet ready to ask. Ben did his best not to be pleased with this realization, and he refrained from considering why that might be so.
*
IMOGENE STARED AT her hand, aware that she should be involved in the discourse about the passing scenery, but she was unable to join the trivialities. She was instead locked into a loop of unanswerable questions.