Suitors and Sabotage(41)
Ernest cleared his throat.
“Please,” Imogene said quickly. “Shall we talk of nonsense? I have just started reading a ghoulish book full of dire warnings and haunt—”
“Imogene, I would like—”
“To speak of other things. Let us not be serious”—she glanced at him under her lashes—“when family is about.”
“It is family that concerns me.… Ben has lost the charity of your father.”
“My father is in and out of charity regularly. That is certainly not cause for concern … or hurry.”
“Imogene—”
“Please,” she said, near to a whisper. But he heard.
“Of course, we will wait if you prefer to.”
Imogene sighed in great relief. “Is it too much to ask?”
Looking down at her, no longer gulping at the air, Ernest smiled. It was a kind, indulgent smile that reached his eyes, and they shone with caring. Her heart skipped a beat, and warmth, not born in embarrassment but something much more agreeable, spread throughout her body. It was a heady sensation, and Imogene grinned.
This was the very reason for delay. This sensation offered the possibility of a happy union: this, and the knowledge that Ernest Steeple was an honorable gentleman with a great capacity for compassion. What more could one need in a spouse?
A scream rent the air, and a great splash broke Imogene’s trancelike state. Jumping to her feet, she ran to the lake’s edge in time to see Emily’s head bob up out of the water. She took a deep breath, stood, and then screamed again, this time in rage.
“How could you? You know I can’t swim.” Charging through the water as best she could, encumbered by her skirts in the waist-deep water, Emily snatched at Jake and Percy—who easily swam to the far side of the overturned boat.
Ben, hatless and equally sodden, grabbed Emily’s arm and said something to her. She spun around. “But look! Just look what they have done!”
“Sorry, old girl. Meant you no harm. Got a burr in my breeches and had to lash out.” Jake’s smirk was not attractive.
If Imogene hadn’t known better, she would have thought Emily near tears.
And really, it was not to be wondered at. Emily’s beautiful white gown was ruined, covered in mud, reeds draped over shoulders, and a lily pad hung from her bonnet. Ben looked no better; though his dark coat hid the dirt, his shirt and cream pantaloons did not. Water dripped from his hair and down his face. He said something to Emily that gave her pause.… And she began to laugh.
Standing together, sharing a joke, ignoring the taunts of Jake and Percy, Ben and Emily rendered the prank toothless—childish and unworthy. Ben offered Emily his arm in an exaggerated gesture, as if they were standing in a ballroom and not in the middle of an artificial lake. With elbows hooked together, Emily removed the lily pad from her bonnet, took hold of her skirts, and sloshed to the water’s edge.
Ernest offered them a hand up the bank while Imogene returned to the blanket. She tossed books, hats, and parasol aside, then she pulled it up off the grass. It could be used as a wrap should Emily be cold. Before Imogene turned back to the lake, her gaze fell on the mothers, who were staring at the commotion.
Mrs. Beeswanger’s expression was excessively bland, while Mother was soundlessly chuckling. “These boys. What will they think of next?”
“That was an expensive gown, Olivia.”
“Oh dear. I do beg your pardon, Diane. I will send Gabriella to look at it—my French maid is a treasure. She will be able to set it to rights, I am certain.”
“Thank you for the offer, but if Kate is unable to recover that dreadful mess, then I will simply have another one made. It won’t be too much of an imposition.” Mrs. Beeswanger glanced at Imogene, winked, and then turned her face back to the lake. “It is such a shame that boys mature so slowly. They can try one’s patience.”
Imogene’s eyes grew wide, expecting her mother to take umbrage in defense of her son, but she said nothing. Imogene turned back to the sodden couple and pretended she had not overheard the caustic remarks.
Emily survived her soaking with little repercussion. Most important, she did not sneeze upon her arrival at the manor and, therefore, was not sent to while away the rest of the day in bed. Percy and Jake, however, did miss the duckling braised in sherry, and Miss Watson’s stirring rendition of Bach’s piano concerto in D Minor that evening. Nothing was said of their absence, and there were no empty place settings at the table. However, there was a slight chill in the air whenever Father addressed Ben … or Mr. Beeswanger, though it was not overt.
*
“I APOLOGIZE FOR my father, Ben. Since the burr incident, he has been rather beastly to you. The cold shoulder and all that…”
Ben and Imogene had set up their art lesson in the conservatory the next morning, not to sketch the beautiful calla lilies but the ironwork holding up the glass roof. A table had been repositioned with chairs pulled next to it, and they had set about their sketching with great concentration—well, Ben concentrated; Imogene was as unperturbed as ever when attending her art.
“Father has never been a warm or amenable person. Grandfather Chively was much the same.”
“It is no never mind to me,” Ben said, glancing up at the ceiling and then back to his paper. “The Beeswangers are quite the opposite, going out of their way to make me feel welcome. It is a shame that your father does not enjoy my company when it seems likely that we will be relate—” Ben grimaced at his very near faux pas and redirected the conversation.