“Is something wrong?” Leah put her fur tippet back around her neck.
Sarah danced a little jig, half answering Leah’s question. “You have been summoned!”
“Are you certain that father has not been summoned to an asylum? Why is he running around like that?” Leah did not know whether to laugh or be truly concerned for her father.
Sarah took hold of her daughter’s hands. “The Dowager has asked you to take tea with her this afternoon at two o’clock. Your father is preparing a gift and would not allow me to assist.” She grimaced and lowered her voice, “Please, do check the gift while you are in the carriage on the way there. If it seems inappropriate, leave it behind.”
Leah glanced at the clock in the hallway. It read a quarter to two. “But it is almost two o’clock as it is. Should I not change my attire? I have been traipsing through the park; the hems must be filthy.” Panic fluttered in her chest. “Goodness, I hate to say it, but Father was right—there is no time, not even for the smallest squabble!”
“Be calm, dearest,” Sarah urged. “You look refreshed, your dress is unscathed, and I find nothing becomes a woman so well as some pink in her cheeks. You are perfect as you are, my darling. And as everyone keeps shouting, there is no time for anything other than you walking directly out of the door.”
Leah frowned. “You are not coming with me?”
“She has asked to see you and only you,” Sarah replied.
Leah’s heart thumped harder. “What do you think that means? Do you think she is going to try and pay me to leave her son alone? Do you think she means to threaten me into abandoning the courtship? That incident by the lake caused quite a stir; do you think I have embarrassed her?”
Is she suspicious of the bruise on Nathaniel’s cheek?Dread weighed heavy inside her, realizing that if Nathanielhadgotten into a fight with Jonathan because of her, it wouldnotmake the Dowager very happy at all.
“I think she would have come here if she intended to do any of those things,” Sarah answered gently, squeezing her daughter’s hands. “The fact that she has summoned you toherresidence is very promising. Oh, it is very promising indeed!”
That light of excitement had returned to Sarah’s eyes, sparking a fresh wave of guilt in Leah’s stomach. Evidently, her mother thought that the Dowager was going to give her blessing for marriage or something of that ilk. Leah had thought that the ruse would allow her to spend the London season not being a disappointment to her mother, but now, she wondered if it might be the most disappointing season of all for the person she loved more than any other.
“Then,” Leah said haltingly, “I suppose I should not delay.”
Sarah leaned in and kissed her daughter’s cheek. “Good luck, my dearest girl.”
“Thank you,” Leah replied, the hopeful kiss burning her skin. “I think I shall need it.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
“Make yourself comfortable,” the Dowager Duchess, Abigail, said as Leah was led into the drawing room by the butler. Leah, of course, had not expected the older woman to greet her at the door, but the presence of her stern-faced escort made her feel as if she was being marched into a tribunal. How was she meant to feel at all comfortable?
“Is Nathaniel not at home?” Leah asked, perching on the edge of a brocade settee. She had left the gift in the carriage, doubting that a whimsical ornament of a horse would be well received.
Abigail wrinkled her nose. “No, he is not.”
“What adventures is he enjoying today?” Leah fidgeted, gazing out at the gardens where she had first met Colin. “Is he with his brother?”
Abigail shook her head. “They are at the botanical gardens observing butterflies.”
“Oh, what a pity.”
“A pity?” Abigail furrowed her brow, her lips pursing as if she took personal offense to the remark.
“Because I had hoped to visit the botanical gardens with them,” Leah explained, her skin beginning to prickle with heat. “Colin promised he would tell me the names of all of his favorites. I know some, but I am a dunce in comparison to him.”
The faintest hint of a smile appeared upon Abigail’s face. “I think we all are. He sometimes babbles words at me, and though he swears they are Latin, I am convinced they are gibberish.”
“Perhaps, he is toying with you,” Leah suggested. “He seems to be something of a jester—like that sweet bird of his, for example.”
Abigail chuckled: a soft, breathy sound. “I cannot abide the thing, in truth, though it makes him happy, so I tolerate its presence. Once, it flew right into the drawing room at Bergfield Manor while I was trying to have a pleasant tea with some old acquaintances. It landed right upon Sarah Blakeney’s cup and sipped from it before stealing an entire biscuit! I have never seen such immediate horror upon a woman’s face. Needless to say, she has not accepted any of my ensuing invitations.”
“Do you see your friends often?” Leah did not know if she was allowed to laugh, choosing the easier course of light interrogation.
Abigail’s eyebrows pinched together, her face ageing by ten years in the blink of an eye as melancholy slackened her expression. “No, I cannot say that I do. I… was once quite popular, always surrounded by friends, but… well, I suppose life takes everyone on different paths.” She paused. “I was left by the wayside though I cannot remember when, and as you get older and the distance between you and old friends increases, it becomes… difficult to overcome. You… fall into the crevasse, I suppose.”
She seemed to be struggling with her words, making Leah even more uncertain of what to do or what to say. Had it been her own mother, Leah would have gone to embrace her or taken her hand, at least, but she feared Abigail would not take kindly to sympathy.
