“I don’tdislikeher, if that is your meaning.” She evoked no emotion in David at all. Not even a hint of irritation. “Liking your wife isn’t relevant in most marriages of our class, is it?”
His gaze landed on the seascape again. Ridiculous to buy a bloody painting because it reminded him of a young woman who had insulted him. He didn’t even like seascapes. He would instruct his butler, Bowen, to remove the painting.
“Not anounceof affection,” Blythe persisted.
Blythe was a hopeless romantic. He read poetry, for God’s sake.
“It isn’t necessary. You know that as well as I. Beatrice is eminently suitable,” David stated.
“A resounding endorsement, if I ever heard one.”
Blythe had never approved of David offering for Lady Beatrice Howard for reasons his friend had never explained, though he claimed not to want her for himself.
A soft knock sounded at the study door.
“Your Grace.” His butler bowed, keeping his eyes lowered. “Lady Molsin wishes me to remind you that your guests are on the terrace enjoying a late luncheon.”
David set down his glass, still half-full, at the subtle reminder from Aunt Pen that his presence was required. Resigning himself to the remainder of his day spent in bland conversation, he nodded to the butler.
“Please inform Lady Molsin I’ll be along directly.”
7
Romy scoured the terrace for any sight of her cousin, but Lady Richardson didn’t appear to be on the terrace circulating with the other guests. After bursting into her room as Romy was making herself presentable after the journey, her cousin had chastised Romy for her late arrival before departing in a flurry of skirts.
Romy and Theo came down a short time later and were directed outside by a servant, but Cousin Winnie was nowhere to be found.
Nor was Blythe, much to Theo’s dismay.
Miss Waterstone greeted Romy warmly, visibly surprised to find her at The Barrow. As were Lady Meredith Clare and Lady Mildred Dresser.
Rosalind took Romy’s arm. “I’m not sure where Mama has gone, but she made me promise to make sure you stayed on the terrace so you can be properly introduced to Lady Molsin.”
“I still haven’t forgiven you for the invitation.” Romy leaned over and whispered in her cousin’s ear. “But I like the dress, by the way.”
“You designed it.” At Romy’s look, she said, “Phaedra told me. And don’t be cross. No one will hear of your secret from my lips. I’m rather proud of you. I lack all but the most basic of talents.”
Romy took in her cousin’s petite, slightly rounded form. “You’ve marvelous instincts about dough.”
“True.” A smile hovered at her lips. “But Mama doesn’t allow me to make pastries anymore.” She patted a generously curved hip. “At any rate,” she nodded at Theo, “you can’t depend on me to save her from her own foolishness in regard to Blythe. Not when I’ve my own problems to deal with. I’m terrified Lord Torrington means to offer for me. He’s arriving with Mr. Waterstone tomorrow.”
“He’s quite an attractive gentleman,” Romy offered.
“And twice my age.” Rosalind appeared deflated by her mother’s determination to marry her off to the older, widowed earl. “He wants more a brood mare than wife.”
“You’d be a young widow.”
“It isn’t funny, Romy, and you aren’t being helpful.”
“I’m trying to help you see the positives in the situation.”
“Hmph.” Her eyes widened slightly. “I think I’ll fetch a small plate while Mama is occupied elsewhere. Excuse me.”
“Rosalind, where are you—”
“Lady Andromeda, I’m surprised to find you here,” Lady Beatrice intoned from behind Romy, trying and failing to keep the dislike out of her otherwise dulcet tones.
“No more than I am myself, Lady Beatrice,” Romy answered, silently cursing Rosalind for her abandonment. Keeping a serene, composed look on her features, she tried to think of more pleasant things than speaking to Beatrice. Honey on toast, for example. A bolt of fine tulle. The sound of her pencil as she sketched out a new gown.
