Suitors and Sabotage(45)

Imogene took a deep breath, looked down at her shaking hands, and moved them to her lap. She closed her eyes briefly and then lifted her gaze back to Ben. He was still staring. “You are still staring and saying nothing. Time is of the essence; we must resolve our differences before you go. To not do so would be folly … for all of us.”

She watched him take a deep breath and then swallow visibly, as if he were the nervous one.… Which was ridiculous, as he was a confident young gentleman from a good family who cared about his welfare. He had no reason to be uncomfortable.… Unless … With a sudden realization of her own, Imogene was fairly certain she had ferreted out the problem.

“Oh dear. You have decided that I am not worthy of Ernest.… And you don’t know how to tell me … or him.”

With a melancholy smile—which is quite a feat—Ben shook his head. “No. That is not it.”

“No? Then … then, could you please enlighten me? I would not normally utter such a personal query. You must know how difficult it is not to simply hide inside myself and fret in silence. It is a testament to how close we have become that I am comfortable sharing my dreams and … now, my distress with you. And I am distressed, Ben. No matter what happens with Ernest, I would like to think of our friendship continuing. You are a kindred spirit. And … well … I…”

“I humbly beg your pardon, Imogene. I was not aware that I was causing you any concern. I am not conscious of behaving abnormally.”

“Well, you are.”

“Again, I apologize.”

His smile lifted, losing its dejected aspect. Sitting up straight, he nodded. “Yes. We are indeed kindred spirits, and I, too, wish our friendship to continue regardless.… However, I have come to realize that there will be a significant change in the dynamics of our family should Ernest … well, you know. We have been each other’s support since we were knee-high to a grasshopper. Circumstances will have to change.” He blinked, nodded again, and looked expectant.

“That’s it. You treat me like a leper because I am going to change the family?”

“In a delightful way, of course.”

“Are you certain?”

“Well, I believe the change will be delightful. Though that remains to be seen, and it would be up to Ernest and yourself—”

“Are you certain that this is the cause of our rift?”

“Yes.” Ben looked serious, and his downhearted smile reappeared. “There are some who find changes challenging.”

“I wouldn’t have thought you to be stymied by change.”

“It depends on the significance of that change. This is monumental.”

“My joining the Steeple family would be monumental?”

“Yes. I believe it would be.” Laughing, Ben reached across the table and tapped Imogene on the hand with his graphite pencil. “Marriage is monumental.”

Imogene ignored his words and the slight doleful tone; she instead stared into his eyes. The tenderness of his gaze warmed her from her fingertips to her toes. She knew his excuse to be a bouncer, but the reason no longer mattered as long as they had returned to their easy rapport.

Imogene grinned and grabbed his hand, giving it a little squeeze; he didn’t pull away. Yes, the world had righted itself again.

*

WHILE IMOGENE’S SILENCE but a day earlier had caused little notice and no comment, her affability created a stir. With a smile and a nod, Imogene ignored all remarks on sparkling eyes, queries about bended knees, and covert looks that volleyed back and forth between Ernest and her. The speculation that he had made an offer was rampant. It was fortunate that he was either blissfully unaware or ignoring the wheedling questions.

Ernest was all kindness and consideration, abiding by her request to delay any questions of a matrimonial nature. Knowing that, he waited for her to signal her preparedness, allowing Imogene the opportunity to settle her anxieties. Father could prod and grumble as much as he liked.

However, the weather was most disobliging the last day of the Steeples’ stay at Shackleford Park. Rain, rain, and more rain. A fluctuating combination of persons occupied the various family rooms. While the fathers seemed to prefer the billiard room and the mothers the drawing room, the younger generation meandered between the music room and the library. Private conversations were nigh on impossible. The evening was devoted to cards, and most made an early night of it.

Standing in the shelter of the portico, waving Ben and Ernest away the next morning, Imogene was subjected to an inquiring look from Emily. “Well?” she said, lowering her hand. “You do not have the countenance of a bride-to-be.”

“I don’t look sanctimonious?”

“Most definitely not.”

“Well, I was asked a question.” Imogene grinned at her friend’s sudden intake of breath. “No, no. Not that one.” She laughed. “He asked if he might write.”

“And you said yes, of course.”

“I didn’t have the opportunity. Father agreed for me.”

“Are we talking of Ernest or Ben?” a voice queried from the shadows of the portico.

“Mr. Tabard, I did not see you there. I thought everyone had gone back inside.” Imogene turned a grimace to Emily, sharing a wide-eyed look of embarrassment.

“Don’t concern yourself, my dears. I was just trying to understand. The maneuverings of your generation are quite beyond me at times. Clara always kept me straight. It seems as though you are talking of Ernest, and yet I thought it was Ben who was casting calf-eyes at Imogene. No, no, I see that I have it mixed up. Never mind my ramblings.”