Page 16 of Convincing Marianne (The Widows of Lavender Cottage #2)
Chapter Thirteen
T he vicarage dining room had been transformed for the occasion, with Mrs. Dunley's best china gleaming under the candlelight and late autumn flowers arranged with obvious care.
Henry arrived to find himself part of what appeared to be a carefully orchestrated gathering designed to showcase the neighborhood's most eligible residents.
Reverend Dunley greeted him at the door with the sort of enthusiasm usually reserved for major donors to the church roof fund. "Lord Alton! How splendid. I believe you know most of our guests already—Lady Marianne, of course, and Lady Margaret from the Widows' circle, and Mrs. Charlotte Pemberton."
Henry paused. "Mrs. Charlotte Pemberton?"
"Lord Pembroke's sister-in-law," the vicar explained cheerfully. "She arrived this afternoon to make Lady Marianne's acquaintance. Quite the coincidence, wouldn't you say?"
Henry strongly suspected there was nothing coincidental about Charlotte's sudden appearance, but before he could process this development fully, he found himself face-to-face with Lady Marianne.
She looked radiant in a gown of deep green silk that brought out the gold in her hair, and Henry felt his newly rebellious blue coat suddenly seem entirely inadequate.
But as their eyes met, he caught a flicker of something—surprise?
approval?—before she composed herself into polite social pleasantness.
"Lord Alton," she said with a slight curtsy. "How... colorful of you this evening."
Before Henry could determine whether this observation was complimentary or mocking, Lord Pembroke appeared at Lady Marianne's elbow with the easy confidence of a man who belonged exactly where he was.
"Lord Alton! A pleasure to see you again. I was just telling Lady Marianne about my plans to visit her foundling charity tomorrow. I'm quite eager to see her organizational methods in practice."
"How... dedicated of you," Henry managed, noting how Lord Pembroke's hand rested possessively on Lady Marianne's arm and how natural the gesture appeared.
"Oh, James has always been passionate about charitable work," Charlotte said, appearing with Lady Margaret in tow. "Even as a boy, he was forever bringing home stray animals and insisting we care for them."
Henry watched Lady Marianne's face light up at this information and felt his last hopes for the evening dim considerably.
Mrs. Dunley announced dinner, and Henry found himself seated directly across from Lady Marianne and Lord Pembroke, positioned to observe their every interaction throughout what promised to be the longest meal of his adult life.
The conversation began pleasantly enough, with Reverend Dunley regaling the table with stories of parish life while studiously avoiding any mention of peacock-related hat incidents.
But it quickly became apparent that Lord Pembroke was the sort of dinner companion who could contribute knowledgeably to any topic while somehow making everyone else feel more interesting by association.
"The drainage innovations you've implemented on your estate sound fascinating, Lord Alton," Lord Pembroke said during the soup course. "I observed similar techniques in the Netherlands during my travels. Have you considered the Dutch approach to crop elevation in flood-prone areas?"
Henry found himself drawn into a technical discussion that should have been right in his area of expertise, but Lord Pembroke's questions were so insightful and his own knowledge so comprehensive that Henry felt rather like a student being examined by a particularly well-informed professor.
"Actually," Lady Marianne interjected, "Lord Alton has been experimenting with exactly that approach in his lower fields. The results have been remarkable—his tenants are reporting significantly higher yields even during the wettest seasons."
The warmth in her voice when she spoke about his agricultural work sent an unexpected flutter through Henry's chest, though he noticed she displayed equal enthusiasm when Lord Pembroke described his observations of Italian farming techniques.
"How wonderful to find neighbors so committed to progressive land management," Charlotte observed with the sort of bright social smile that suggested she was thoroughly enjoying the evening's undercurrents.
"James has always believed that landlords have a responsibility to their communities that goes beyond mere rent collection. "
"Lord Alton shares that philosophy," Lady Margaret added meaningfully. "His tenant improvements have become quite the model for other estates in the region."
Henry caught Lady Marianne glancing at him with what might have been surprise, as if she were seeing this aspect of his character in a new light.
But before he could build any hope on this observation, Lord Pembroke launched into an anecdote about helping establish a school for tenant children during his Italian travels, and Lady Marianne's attention returned to him with obvious admiration.
The main course brought fresh torture in the form of a discussion about literature, during which Lord Pembroke proved to be not only well-read but capable of discussing everything from classical poetry to contemporary novels with equal facility.
When Lady Marianne mentioned her fondness for travel narratives, he immediately recommended several obscure but fascinating accounts of expeditions to remote corners of the world.
"I have a first edition of Burton's account of his pilgrimage to Mecca," he said casually. "Perhaps you'd enjoy borrowing it? His insights into cultural differences are quite remarkable."
"How thoughtful!" Lady Marianne exclaimed, and Henry found himself grinding his teeth at her obvious delight.
Henry attempted to contribute his own literary recommendations, but discovered that his reading had been rather narrowly focused on military history and agricultural treatises.
When he mentioned a recent analysis of Wellington's Peninsula campaign, the conversation politely moved on without comment.
"Lord Alton is far too modest about his own expertise," Lady Marianne said suddenly, and Henry looked up in surprise.
"His knowledge of soil composition and crop science is absolutely extraordinary.
He's been corresponding with progressive farmers across England, and his innovations are being adopted by estates throughout the region. "
The genuine pride in her voice made Henry's heart do something complicated and entirely inappropriate for a dinner party setting.
"How impressive," Lord Pembroke said with what appeared to be sincere interest. "I'd be honored to learn from your experience, Lord Alton. Perhaps we could arrange a tour of your experimental fields?"
This generous offer should have pleased Henry, but instead it highlighted the fundamental difference between them: Lord Pembroke was confident enough in his own worth to genuinely appreciate others' accomplishments, while Henry found himself keeping score like a schoolboy competing for teacher's attention.
The conversation turned to the upcoming festival, and here at least Henry felt on firmer ground. But even this topic proved challenging when Lord Pembroke began offering suggestions that were both practical and innovative.
"Have you considered incorporating educational demonstrations alongside the entertainment?" he asked. "In Florence, I observed festivals that combined charitable fundraising with skills training for local youth. It created a more lasting impact than simple donation collection."
"What an excellent idea," Lady Marianne said, leaning forward with obvious excitement. "We could have apprentices demonstrating their trades, perhaps offer information about opportunities for the foundling children as they come of age..."
Henry watched her animated discussion with Lord Pembroke and realized that he was witnessing exactly what he'd hoped to achieve: Lady Marianne engaging with a man who appreciated her intelligence and supported her charitable passions.
The fact that observing this success felt like a knife between his ribs was his own fault entirely.
"You seem rather quiet this evening, Lord Alton," Charlotte observed with the sort of innocent expression that fooled absolutely no one. "I do hope you're not feeling unwell?"
"Not at all," Henry replied with forced pleasantness. "I'm simply... enjoying the excellent conversation."
"How lovely. James always says that the best dinner parties are those where one learns something new from every guest." Charlotte's smile was radiant and entirely unconvincing. "Speaking of learning new things, Lady Marianne, that's a particularly becoming gown. The color suits you beautifully."
"Thank you," Lady Marianne replied, though Henry noticed a slight flush in her cheeks. "Though I confess I felt rather bold choosing green instead of my usual blues and grays."
"Bold suits you," Lord Pembroke said warmly, and Henry had to grip his wine glass to avoid saying something he'd regret.
But then, unexpectedly, Lady Marianne's gaze drifted to Henry's blue coat with its silver embroidery, and he caught the faintest smile playing about her lips.
"It seems several of us decided to be bold this evening," she said quietly, and the comment was clearly directed at him.
The moment lasted only seconds, but Henry felt it like a spark of electricity across the table. She had noticed his sartorial rebellion, and unless he was entirely mistaken, she approved.
Mrs. Dunley chose that moment to suggest the ladies retire to the drawing room while the gentlemen enjoyed their port, and Henry found himself trapped in the dining room with Lord Pembroke, Reverend Dunley, and the prospect of at least thirty minutes of polite masculine conversation.