Page 54 of The Gentlewoman Companion (The Gentlewoman #4)
Chapter Twenty-Eight
M urmuring voices drew James from his bedroom. It was seven in the morning. Who on earth would be in the parlor at this hour?
“Lord Halverton finally convinced the tailor to apprentice me.” Meg’s animated voice carried into the corridor.
“You must call him James.” It was his mother. “He is your brother, after all.”
She called him James only when no one else was around.
Meg laughed, a sound James had not heard for a while. “When I went to his shop for my first day of training, Mr. Sloan glared at me like I was vermin and set down his scissors to gape at me. I actually felt my neck to make certain I hadn’t sprouted a second head.”
His sister made jokes?
“He is threatened,” his mother said. “With a female mantua maker in town, the ladies of Gloucestershire will flock to you.”
“I hardly?—”
“Not yet. After you finish your apprenticeship. And you must remember, you are a gentlewoman. Think of yourself that way, and the world will treat you thus. Dressmaking is quite a respectable trade for a lady.”
“Yes, my lady.” A smile warmed Meg’s voice.
James hesitated then entered the parlor.
“Mother,” he said, “I did not expect you.”
“I missed the green hills.”
“Of what are the two of you speaking?” he asked.
“As though you were not listening on the other side of the door!”
The ogling Margaret described was no exaggeration, but James recognized admiration in the young tailor’s eyes. Meg was exceptionally pretty.
“I shall leave you, my lady.” Meg rose and curtsied, smiling at James on the way out.
James sat across from his mother and poured himself tea. “You have made a friend of her.”
“I have. I’m rather proud of myself. But I have news. A letter.”
“From Miss Thorpe?”
“Yes, but even better, I have a letter from the captain of HMS Frolic . You must take it to her.”
“You know that is impossible.”
“Rubbish. Look at you, moping around, too blue-deviled to dress properly.”
“It’s not yet eight in the morning, and you just arrived. You have no evidence I am at all unhappy.”
“Business is not happiness. Besides, your young charges are adapting well. And you know from my letters that Louisa has quite successfully spread her wings. It’s time you visit her, and I’m giving you an excuse.”
“Has Charles died?”
“Heavens, no!”
“Why would I deliver a letter in person when it contains nothing sensitive?”
“Pretext, James.”
“And I have my own justification for staying away. I was admitted to the General Committee of the Foundling Hospital, to which I am determined to give my full attention. I must report to London for a meeting. You will be pleased to know that while I am there, I intend to vote.”
“The act for the Hospital, I presume? Well, I am glad to hear it. I expected it would draw you back to parliament sooner or later. But that means time is short. You’d best be on your way to Wadebridge.”
Racing on Goliath to Wadebridge was the very thought that had circled his head endlessly these past months.
Did he want her? Yes! his heart shouted.
But did she want him? Doubt twisted with longing.
“I feel safe with you,” she’d said. And that kiss.
But why had she pushed him away so firmly when they’d parted ways?
He stared out the window as the wind bent and twisted an oak tree.
“Do you love her?” his mother asked.
“Yes,” he whispered.
“Then why are you still here?”
“ W ill she accept me?” He voiced his final concern.
His mother made a very unladylike noise that resembled a snort. “You won’t know until you ask her.”
“You think everyone likes me because you are my mother.”
“I think Louisa loves you because I watched her beside you for six months.”
He turned to face her. “What did you see?”
“She watched you like a flower follows the sun.”
“You told me she wasn’t ready for my advances.”
“She wasn’t, but that doesn’t mean she was not completely ensnared by your charms.”
“Now, that is taking it too far.”
“Take the letter. Charles is thriving. If nothing else, you will bring her happy tidings.”
Perhaps she was right. He had to ascertain Louisa’s own feelings. And if she rejected him, he would leave for London and try to cast her out of his heart forever.
He kissed his mother’s cheek. “I will leave tomorrow.”
J ames dismounted and walked out the stiffness from his legs as he approached Louisa’s “small—very small—estate,” as her father had described it when James had visited him to ask his permission to court Louisa.
Ivy covered one side of the cottage, and a swath of wisteria grew over the front.
Though modest, it exuded a certain elegance in the circular gravel path, the wisteria that bloomed over a stone wall, and the three dormer windows.
It reminded him of its owner—beautiful and unexpected.
A boy appeared to take his horse. “You’re late.”
Late? “You are rather impertinent for saying so,” Halverton said.
“My name is John Pickett. Miss Louisa says impudence is my duty. I’ll not allow anyone inconveniencing or disrespecting her.”
It seemed Louisa had besotted this young man. “How old are you?”
“Fourteen, but don’t think I can’t handle myself. I’m strong.”
“I am glad Miss Thorpe has your protection.” He delivered his horse and watched John’s chest puff as he strode away.
The doorway leading to Louisa lay before him.
The windows glinted, seeming to glare, and the wisteria whispered, mocking his hopes.
He thwacked the door, then shook out his burning knuckles.
From inside the house, a faint titter reached his ears.
The sound of women’s laughter. Louisa was not alone.
He pressed his ear against the door. A male voice this time.
She was just as well without him.
The voices approached, and he suddenly felt embarrassed to be caught there by strangers. He pushed himself away and ran to the side of the house, hearing the door snicker open.
“Someone was just here. Did I imagine that knocking?”
Louisa’s sweet voice!
“Whoever it was is too late. I must be going,” a gentleman said.
“Thank you for entertaining us so splendidly,” a lady said. “Until next time.”
“Count on my contribution for the bridge repairs,” another man said.
“Oh! I do. And of course, you will engage your neighbors to match your donation. Remind them how it will improve trade, just as the roads have.”
The man harrumphed an agreement.
“Very kind of you to come, Lady Molesworth. I hope we will see you next time?”
“I cannot avoid it, can I? Not when you’ve appointed yourself overlord of Wadebridge.”
Louisa laughed, though the woman was acerbic. “You are droll, my lady. Everyone agrees you are the mistress here.”
A parade of men and women, old and young, wealthy and poor, exited until it seemed the entire village must have been inside the cottage. He listened for the door to click closed. Instead, footsteps crunched in his direction.
“Hal?” Louisa called.
Hal? Was she talking to him? He darted for the back of the house, the gravel sounding thunderous in his ears. He pressed himself against the stone wall. This might be the most idiotic thing he’d ever done.
A white cat jumped over the wall and sidled up to him, wrapping around James’s legs.
“Hal? Come, kitty.”
The cat mewed, and Louisa rounded the corner dressed like a queen in pink silk that hugged her curves and flared over her hips with flounces and ribbons in all the right places. Hal, the cat, jumped into her arms.
“Lord Halverton.” Surprise was replaced by a grin, which quickly morphed as her brows contracted and her mouth fell. “What the devil? Like a spy, sneaking around my house.”
James emerged from the shadows, plunging his hands into his pockets. He stood stupidly, trying to remember what he’d decided to say to her.
“Come. There is a tower of pastries, and I need tea after all the talking I’ve done.”
She held her head high, moving with a new confidence and purpose.
He dragged behind her.
Inside, the cottage was even more pleasant than the exterior, with whitewashed walls and pink, and pink, and pink.
Pink and white curtains hung over wide windows, and matching furniture graced the parlor.
Pink hothouse peonies bent over numerous vases.
In the center of the room, a table was laden with cake—partially consumed—covered in pink frosting.
Where had she procured the macarons? Bowls overflowed with expensive sweetmeats and chocolate.
He half smiled, pleased to see how she had her way with her new dwelling.
“This is a pleasant room,” he said.
She beamed at him. It set his heart racing.
“What is all this?” he asked, indicating the elaborate tea.
“Oh, a little project. We are advancing the town in hopes of drawing more people to market.”
Their eyes met briefly before Louisa glanced away, her gaze falling on the heavily laden table. “Not mine.” Her laugh was hollow. “I cannot afford such things, but the shop owners bring the best of their wares to our meetings. Please sit down.”
He perched on the edge of a chair, and she handed him a plate of food.
“Jenny?” A young woman wearing a lacy cap entered.
“Will you and John put all this in baskets and deliver it to the people I’ve written out?
The list is on my writing desk.” She sat down across from him.
“The sweets encourage others to contribute to our cause.”
“Clever.”
“Hm.”
Jenny and John, who glowered mightily at James, began basketing the food. “You don’t mind the bustle, do you?” Louisa asked.
He did mind. How could he speak to her with the two servants dismantling the mountains of food between them? He set his plate aside.
“I brought a letter from your brother and another from his captain.”
“Did you! Oh, you are wonderful.”
Wonderful . That was hopeful. He withdrew the letters. The one from the captain was addressed to James, but the note from Charles had Louisa’s name on it and remained sealed.