Page 22 of The Gentleman Was Right
A couple of minutes later, he was surprised when Violet silently followed Mrs. Eggington back into the sitting room. The housekeeper bustled about, chattering as she deposited a new tray packed with goodies on the table and then cleaned up the remnants of Isabelle’s tea.
She spoke over her shoulder as she exited the room. “I’ll prepare a light supper for this evening, but please let me know if you need anything else in the meantime.”
“Thank you,” he called as she disappeared.
“Mrs. Eggington has been most kind,” Violet said, sinking onto the other end of the settee.
“She does seem lovely.” He hesitated, and then added, “Housekeepers usually are.”
“I suppose.”
“Is that not your experience?”
“My father’s staff adores Basil. They are perfectly pleasant to Isabelle and me, but they aren’t nearly as…nurturing as Mrs. Eggington.”
“Are they not your staff now?”
“I suppose.” She studied the tray far too carefully before changing the subject. “You should have another biscuit before they get cold. I’ll prepare the tea. How do you take it?”
She hadn’t asked the previous day, and he couldn’t help hoping that maybe he was making a bit of progress in earning her esteem. “Just a bit of sugar.”
ChapterSeven
By the time evening rolled around, Isabelle’s ankle was in fine form. She had no swelling and no pain, and neither Violet nor Edward made any mention of the injury or lack thereof as they climbed into the carriage bound for the assembly.
The rain had slowed to a steady drizzle sometime in the afternoon and had settled into nothing but a hanging mist by the time they arrived.
The first time Violet and Isabelle had attended an assembly, they had been able to enter mostly unnoticed. They had been new to town, so they had been a novelty, but still not noteworthy enough to garner too much attention. The same could not be said of their arrival this time. Edward effortlessly drew the eye of every person in the room. It was his status, surely, but also his approachability. Almost as one, the townsfolk surged around him, greeting him as if he were a long-lost friend rather than a stranger.
Feeling a bit overwhelmed, Violet performed introductions with as much poise as she could muster. Pretending to be the cousin of the Earl of Greydon was quite a bit easier when his brother wasn’t at her side. It wasn’t that she thought Edward would reveal her lies, simply that heknewthe truth and she couldn’t help worrying that someone would see them standing together and immediately recognize her for the fraud that she was. Fortunately, no one seemed the slightest bit suspicious.
When the dancing started, she practically shoved Maud into Edward’s arms and then allowed the village women to swarm him as each dance came to an end. He gamely danced with a different partner every time the music started up again. Unmarried and married, young and old, tall and short. They all seemed to revel in the opportunity to be the focus of his attention.
Not that she could blame them.
After a particularly rambunctious reel that had left his cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, he managed to escape the hoard and came to a halt at Violet’s side, thrusting a glass of punch into her hand.
“You look absolutely parched,” he said by way of explanation.
“Thank you,” she replied softly.
She had tried to extract herself from Maud’s too-perceptive clutches while he’d been dancing the reel, but her attempts to escape had only managed to draw the other woman deeper into conversation and had given Violet no opportunity to evade him when he sought her out.
“Aren’t you the sweetest man?” Maud said, fluttering her lashes and fanning herself dramatically.
“I apologize for not bringing one for you, too, ma’am.”
“I’ve had more than enough punch tonight.” Maud giggled and swatted his arm. “I noticed that you haven’t danced with either of your cousins yet. A bit remiss of you, I’d say.”
“Isabelle has danced every dance,” Violet interjected stiffly before Edward could reply.
“You haven’t danced at all though,” Maud lamented. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you hated dancing.”
“I don’t hate dancing, but?—”
Edward interrupted, “It would be my pleasure to share a dance with you.”
His comment was entirely casual, but she couldn’t help feeling like he’d come to her side with the intention of asking her to dance. She was entirely too caught up in her own head to know whether she was being ridiculous or not. It wasn’t as if it would be unusual for cousins to dance together.
