“Minnie, I am in your debt. Both of us are, aren’t we darling?”
Lindy nodded mechanically.
Lady Paget gathered the train of her gown with an elegant, gloved hand and linked her arm through Mama’s. “Come then. Let’s begin.”
Lindy followed them into the ballroom. Smaller than Vera’s golden ballroom on Fifth Avenue, it had a barrel ceiling and wainscoted walls with painted white paneling. The same paneling covered the curved ceiling. A large gallery ran the length of the back wall where the musicians sat.
“Now, let me see...” Lady Paget searched the room. “Ah, there’s the earl.” She lifted a hand.
A man with patches of pink scalp peeking through his pale hair approached. “Lady Paget.” He bowed, and the ladies inclined their heads. “How delightful to see you this evening.”
Lady Paget smiled. “It is my pleasure to introduce my dear friend, Mrs. Otto Lindenmayer, and her daughter, Miss Evangeline Lindenmayer. My dears, Lord Richard Pierson, Earl of Derwentwater.”
Solemnly they bowed to each other. The earl’s brows and eyelashes were so pale as to be almost invisible, which, along with watery blue eyes, gave him an unfortunate appearance. Worse than that were the yellow particles of sticky stuff embedded at the roots of his lashes.
Lindy pressed her lips together. The ladies and the earl stared at her, and she realized he had asked her a question. The orchestra struck the beginning bars of a waltz then. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
“Would you like to dance, Miss Lindenmayer?” The earl held out a gloved hand as if he already knew the answer. Vera raised her eyebrows delicately and gave an infinitesimal nod.
“I would love to,” said Lindy.
The earl led her to the dance floor and expertly through the dips and turns of the Viennese waltz.
He smiled into her face. “Are you enjoying the English countryside, Miss Lindenmayer?”
“Oh yes. The trees are lovely.”
Another turn and dip through the ballroom.
“How long will you be here?”
Too long. “Another week.”
“Very good.”
“And then you return to America?”
“Yes.” Thank goodness.
Lindy squirmed inwardly at the insipid repartee. But the subjects an unmarried woman and a young man could speak about were limited, and she didn’t dare to sabotage the conversation as she had at her debut. If I truly spoke my thoughts, Mama would have apoplexy.
The waltz ended, and the earl gracefully deposited her near the sofa where her mother and Lady Paget were in deep conversation.
Lady Paget clapped her hands. “You both looked so elegant during the waltz. I hope I have the pleasure of seeing you dance together again.” She smiled at the earl daintily.
“I sincerely hope Miss Lindenmayer will allow me the honor.” The earl turned an eager gaze on Lindy.
All her life, her mother had groomed her for exactly this moment. From the time she’d been a small girl, her mother had dreamed of a title in the family. And she had gone along with it, believing her mother’s desires to also be hers.
But now, with the earl gazing at her like a besotted rabbit, Mama waiting expectantly for her daughter’s perfect response, and Lady Paget looking as smug as the cat who had swallowed the canary, Lindy wanted to get up and run out of the room as fast as she could.
But instead, she said, “That would be lovely.”
***
After that, the earl monopolized her dance card. Vera beamed whenever a dance turn took them close to the upholstered bench where she sat. Lindy had danced with the Duke of Hampshire exactly once, a mazurka that left no breath to converse, and then the Earl of Derwentwater had immediately claimed her for the next dance, whirling close to the wall where the duke stood alone, watching the dancers. But not just any dancers. His narrowed gaze had locked on her like the stuffed head of the tiger that ruled the library.
She stumbled then, and the earl caught her. “Are you quite well, Miss Lindenmayer. Shall we sit?”
“Yes, please,” she stuttered and stole another glance at the duke. He had risen from his seat and now stalked toward her, frowning.
“I’ll get an ice, shall I?” said the Earl.
She pulled out her fan, the better to hide her face. “Yes, please… it is rather warm in here.”
What had she seen? What had the duke been thinking as he gazed on her with such... ferocity?”
The duke stood in front of her. “My dear Miss Lindenmayer, are you quite well?”
She avoided the duke’s gaze and fluttered the fan. “Very well, thank you.” A stab of unease cut through her middle, and she winced when he took the chair next to her.
What was wrong with her? The duke had been most polite, and his actions had been that of a gentleman at all times. Perhaps her tight corset had affected her brain. Mr. Winthrop entered her mind again, and she gave herself a mental shake. Oh, why can’t I stop thinking about him?
The earl returned with two cups of lemonade ice. “Why, good evening, Hampshire.”
The duke stood. “How are you, Derwentwater?”
The earl took the vacated seat and handed Lindy the ice. “Excellent. I’m enjoying the company of one of our American friends. Have you met Miss Lindenmayer?”
“I have had the pleasure.”
Still, she didn’t look at the duke, concentrating instead on the coolness of the ice sliding along her parched throat.
“Well then,” the earl said. “You know what a scintillating conversationalist she is.”
“Indeed, I do. And I hope to have the opportunity to engage her in conversation again soon.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for another evening, Hampshire. I intend to keep Miss Lindenmayer all to myself.”
They’re speaking as if I’m invisible. She stood abruptly. “Please excuse me, gentlemen.” As quickly as she could, she made her way around the ballroom to where her mother sat.
“Mama, I need some air. Please, let us go out for a bit.”
“Now, Evangeline?” Vera looked across the room, and Lindy stole a glance, too. The earl had moved on, but the duke stood in the same place, staring at her.
“Yes, Mama. Now.”
Without waiting for an answer, she quit the ballroom and entered the main saloon.
Vera huffed after her. “Wait a moment, Evangeline. I don’t think this is wise. It appeared something quite interesting was happening with you and the duke.”
“I don’t care, Mama. Your corset isn’t as tight as mine.”
A footman opened the door to the garden, and she burst through it, taking as deep a breath as the hated corset would allow. The cool air hit her overheated cheeks, and she sighed and sank onto a stone bench.
Vera puffed her way up to the bench a moment later. “For pity’s sake, Evangeline, what’s come over you?” She plumped herself down next to Lindy, her breath rapid. “I’m too old to chase after you like this.”
Slowly the heat in Lindy’s cheeks dissipated. A gentle breeze wafted through the garden, bringing the spicy scent of pinks and delphinium.
“Are you ill?” Vera touched Lindy’s forehead. “I do believe you’re feverish. I don’t care for the dampness of this English air. Claudine can make a tisane for you. Rosehip tea might help. Heaven knows, there’s an abundance of roses around here.” She sniffed. “The English certainly love their gardens, I must say. Each one blowsier than the last.”
“Oh, Mama, the gardens are bewitchingly beautiful.”
“So why are we out here, Evangeline? When there are two aristocrats ready to fight for you inside?”
Lindy bit her lip. Because I want to go home. But it was no use saying so.
“Well? Answer me.”
“I needed a moment of... peace.”
“Peace!” Vera snorted. “We’re here to get you a husband, my girl.”
“The highest of aspirations indeed.”
“Now you’re being d
eliberately saucy. I won’t have it.”
“I’m not being saucy, Mama. I’m tired of all this, the bowing and manners and balls and... I just want to go home!”
There. She’d said it. Mama’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Home! What on earth is wrong with you, Evangeline? What we’re doing here is the culmination of our life’s dream.” Her mother stared at her. “After all I’ve done for you, the clothes, the lessons. Sacrificing my life so you may make an excellent marriage and bring a title into our family. I’ve lived almost my whole life for this.”
Vera stood up, her bosom heaving. “And now you want to go home.” Her lip curled. “No, my ungrateful girl, you’re going into that ballroom, and you will be the charming young woman I’ve raised you to be.” She tapped her foot on the pavement when Lindy didn’t answer. “Now, Evangeline.”
Lindy rose to her feet and silently followed the path toward the house. But when they entered the door, she turned left instead of right, across the Grand Hall, and ran up the stairs to her room. She opened the door, rushed in, and turned the great iron key in the lock. Gasping, she leaned her forehead against the door.
Several moments later, the doorknob jiggled.
“Evangeline.” Mama was out of breath. “Come out immediately.”
Claudine rose from the sofa, and Lindy held her finger to her lips.
“Evangeline? Are you in there?”
Lindy tore off her jewels and pulled the pins out of her hair, scattering them on the carpet. “Unlace me,” she said, turning her back.
Silently, Claudine complied.
“I hear you, Evangeline. Open this door immediately!”
Lindy nodded at Claudine, who unlocked the door.
Mama burst into the room. “What on earth is wrong with you?” Her eyes bulged in her flushed face as she took in Lindy’s appearance. “Just what do you think you’re doing, Miss?”
“Going to bed. I’m not feeling well.”
Mama stood staring at her, her lips working soundlessly. Lindy could almost see the thoughts chasing each other through her mother’s brain. How will she react?
Finally, her mother drew a deep breath. “Very well. I certainly can’t have you missing the rest of this weekend. Go to bed. And you’d better be bright-eyed in the morning, Evangeline, do you hear me?”
“Yes, Mama.”
Her mother stared at her a moment longer, and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Then she opened the connecting door to her own bedroom, calling for Hortense.
Claudine quirked an eyebrow. “What’s going on, chérie?
I don’t want to be here.
But she couldn’t say it, even to Claudine. “I’m tired, that’s all.”
Tired, and missing Mr. Winthrop.
Chapter 24
Norfolk, England
Lindy woke shortly after dawn and decided to dress and go for a walk in the gardens, accompanied by Claudine.
Mama’s snoring reverberated in the corridor outside her room and for quite a ways down the hall. Only a few guests were about in the quiet house besides the servants. Lindy nodded to several people she’d met last night. Soon they were outside Sandringham’s walls. There were two lakes on the estate, and she chose a path that would take her to one of them. Autumn in all its lush beauty and ripeness had settled upon the English countryside, the trees and shrubs creating vast swathes of gold, burnt orange, and scarlet among the evergreens.
“Are we in a race, chérie?”
Lindy turned. Claudine lagged a few steps behind, out of breath and cheeks flushed pink.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to walk so quickly.” She pointed to a carved wooden bench in a shaded dell off the path. “Come sit for a bit and catch your breath.”
The velvet grass sloped to the lake before them, bordered by weeping shrubs and Japanese maples. A faint mist hovered over the water, and here and there, a ring broke the glassy surface where a fish nibbled at an insect.
“It’s peaceful.” Lindy sighed. “So quiet.”
“Have you something on your mind?”
“No. Yes. Oh... I don’t know.”
“Did something happen last night to upset you? You came upstairs rather early.”
Lindy bit her lip. Supposedly a young woman of good breeding didn’t confide in her maid. “I was fatigued, that’s all.”
Church bells rang in the distance, tolling the hour of eight.
“Are you rested enough to continue, Claudine?”
“Certainement, mademoiselle.”
The neatly graveled path ambled through a copse of beech trees turned to molten gold by the sunbeams piercing the tree canopy overhead.
Claudine stopped to stare at the scene. “Oh, how beautiful.”
“Isn’t it? Like a fairyland. I almost expect to see a gnome pop up under that mushroom.” Lindy pointed to a large brown specimen with a cap as big as her head. “Just there.”
A black swan floated out from the spreading branches of a cypress and glided toward the middle of the lake.
“I’ve never seen one,” said Claudine. Another swan swam out and joined its mate, stretching its long neck. “Two of them!”
“So elegant,” murmured Lindy.
“They mate for life, chérie, did you know that?”
Lindy shook her head. “No.” Mated for life. If Mama has her way, I’ll soon be mated for life too.
Entranced, they stood and watched until the pair of swans swam of sight. The church bell tolled the half hour.
Lindy sighed. “I suppose we’d better get back. Mama will have a conniption if I don’t eat breakfast before we go to chur—” She broke off, rooted to the spot. “Oh no. Quick, Claudine, over here.”
“Good morning, ladies.”
The Duke of Hampshire doffed his hat and bowed, freshly barbered and not a hair out of place. “I’m immensely pleased to see you this morning, Miss Lindenmayer.”
“Yes, well, we’re returning now. I’m attending church in the village with my mother. Please excuse us.”
“Then perhaps I could escort you to the house?”
Lindy hesitated.
“Have I done something to offend you, Miss Lindenmayer? I shall be crushed if I have somehow managed to taint your good opinion of me.”
Lindy shook her head. “No, Your Grace. I must be going.” She took a step toward the path, and the duke fell into step beside her, with Claudine following behind.
“Surely you won’t object if I walk along with you? Where did you disappear to last night?”
Lindy gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to speak about this. “Disappear, Your Grace? What can you mean?”
She quickened her pace, but the duke kept up with her. “Miss Lindenmayer, why do I have the distinct impression you are trying to avoid speaking with me?”
She’d nearly reached the house, but she turned to face him.
“Miss Lindenmayer, please.” He stopped and lightly touched her arm and then withdrew his hand. Lindy relented at the beseeching look on his face. If her mother heard of her rudeness, there would be the devil to pay. Perhaps she had imagined the frightening look on his face last night after all.
“You’ve done nothing to offend me, Your Grace. I’m pleased to have you escort me to the house.”
His face lit up boyishly. “Tremendous news, I must say, Miss Lindenmayer!”
The duke offered his arm, and she took it as birdsong filled the crisp air.
“Have you much snow in the winter season, Your Grace?”
“Occasionally, but our winters are usually mild, especially in southwest England, where my home lies. There the grass often stays green all year long. I hope to be able to show it to you one day.” He turned and looked into her face as they reached the main door into the house. “Miss Lindenmayer, I hope you know how greatly I treasure our conversations.” He placed his gloved hand over hers where it re
sted on his sleeve. “I—”
The front door opened, and a footman greeted them with a grave look. “Your Grace,”—he bowed—“a telegram arrived from the village for you.” He offered a silver tray on which lay a single piece of paper.
The duke snatched it up, read it quickly, and turned pale. “I must leave immediately.” He removed his hat and ran his hand through his hair. “My mother had an apoplexy. She lies near death.” He exhaled hard and read the telegram again.
“Your Grace, I am so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“I cannot think at the moment.” He dropped the telegram and took her hand. “Miss Lindenmayer, I hadn’t thought to be called away like this.” He stared into her eyes, and his lips moved as if he would say more.
“Your Grace, you’re in shock. Let us go inside. You may wish to send a message to your family.”
“Yes, that’s right. A message.”
Lindy took his arm and led him inside.
The footman hovered behind them. “Shall I have your bags packed then, Your Grace?”
“Yes, thank you.” The duke straightened his coat. “I must think.”
“I’ll leave you now, Your Grace. Unless there is something else I may do to assist you?”
“No, no.”
Lindy curtsied and turned to go.
“Wait!” The duke caught her hand again, then dropped it. “Miss Lindenmayer.” He searched her face. His brow furrowed, and he shook his head. “What to do, what to do...” He straightened his shoulders as if he had made a decision and drew himself up. “Miss Lindenmayer.”
“Yes?”
“Wait for me.” His eyes pleaded with her.
Butterflies swam in Lindy’s stomach, and her breath caught in her throat. “Your Grace...”
He took her hand, and this time he didn’t let it go. “I know I am being forward. But please, Miss Lindenmayer, whatever you do, don’t accept the Earl of Derwentwater’s suit.”
Abruptly he turned and hurried up the staircase. On the landing, he turned and sent her one more beseeching look before he disappeared around the corner.