Page 62 of In Compromise with the Earl
“Actually, I will put in and order for the Island’s tins, Blue Mountain, I believe,” Oswald said while he piled a plate high with slivers of ham, coddled eggs, and oat cakes.
When he looked up, his mother’s stare seemed to eat up all the air in the room. “You cannot be crediting her nonsense,” she said.
“Why not,” Oswald shrugged. “It is one slight change, Mother. Change can be good, you know.”
“So, you will discredit my wisdom for her flippant suggestion?” the Dowager snapped. “Tradition is tradition for a reason, Oswald.”
“And yet traditions change,” he said easily. “You need to understand, Mother, things will not be the same forever.”
She shared a hard look between Oswald and Aphrodite before sliding her chair back in a huff. “I’ve lost my appetite.”
Settling her cup down, Aphrodite grimaced. Staring into the bleak brown depths in her cup she shook her head. “That did not go well.”
“No,” he agreed while reaching for her hand. “But we knew it would happen. Pluck your chin up, Sweetling. It will take some time.”
Barely managing a slight smile, she went back to her cooling tea. “Time—”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Ibeg your pardon?” Oswald’s brows were high as he stared at his mother. “You’re throwing a dinner party for Aphrodite and me? In five days?”
A scant week had passed since the first night Oswald and Aphrodite had moved into Tennesley Hall and all seven days had been tense and uncomfortable. Most nights, he had to comfort a frustrated Aphrodite because her efforts to win the Dowager over were proving futile. It pained Oswald to see his mother reject the simple olive branches Aphrodite extended while continuing to only see what she believed to be the truth—that Aphrodite’strue colorswould show themselves.
“It is the proper thing to do for a married couple, is it not?” His mother gave him a pointed look over her spectacles. “It’s not a ball, Oswald, just a dinner with our neighbors and a few family friends that she must get to know in time.”
Oswald wanted to object that she was right; Aphrodite needed to know the persons who were close to his family so they could accept her as well. “And, against all my morals, I will be invitinghim,” she said. “Your dear wife’s Lothario father.”
Swallowing over the tightness in his throat, Oswald nodded. “It is only fair to make a cordial connection with him.”
“And that is all it will be,” she said while dropping another invitation card on her table. “I do not want any further connection with such deviants.”
Reaching to the glass of wine on the side table, he sipped it. “Mother, you do realize that Aphrodite is not her father. She abhors what he does and distances herself from him.”
“I see,” Henrietta said, but by her tone Oswald knew she did not believe a word he said. It cut him so deeply that she was painting everyone with Claire’s deceptive brush and she would not see anything else. Oswald knew that when his late wife had betrayed him, she had betrayed his mother’s trust as well.
“Are we inviting the Richardson’s?” he asked while thinking about his late father’s friend who had stood with them so many years ago after the Earl’s death and who still stood with them decades after. “I do believe Lord Valentine was away in Kent for a while.”
“He’s returned a week ago,” she replied while giving him a piercing look. “His daughter, sweet Amalie is engaged now, and I’ll be inviting him as well.” Keeping his gaze neutral, Oswald sipped his wine. Amalie was a lady his mother would have loved for him to marry but Oswald could only think of the sweet girl as a sister of sorts. He never felt any pull to her, and he’d be shocked to know if she felt differently.
“So,” Henrietta faced her invitation cards. “Where is your delightful wife this evening?”
“She is out riding,” he explained. “She wanted to stretch the horse’s legs.”
“In that scandalous outfit,” she sniffed. “There are perfectly acceptable riding habits that are dresses, why would she wear breeches and boots? The practice of a female riding astride is too masculine and utterly unseemly, in my opinion.”
“Because that is how she feels comfortable,” Oswald replied. “I know it is not that accepted by many, but I do not have any problem with it. I find it charming, actually.”
Henrietta clucked her tongue. “I don’t know what this world is coming to.”
Standing, Oswald said, “If you will excuse me, I’m going to accompany Aphrodite.”
“Even that name,” Henrietta scoffed. “And you don’t think unfaithfulness comes with the namesake?”
Exasperated with explaining himself, Oswald gave a few more parting words and left the room. He took a quick trip to his chamber to change his clothes into proper riding gear and headed out to the stables. He quickly had Goliath saddled and headed out to the trail Aphrodite had told him she would be taking.
He turned the horse to far end of the property where the woods merged with the grounds. He could bet that Aphrodite was somewhere there, lounging under a tree while her horse munched on the succulent grass nearby. When his horse ducked under the first hanging boughs he did not have to look far for Aphrodite, except, she was not on the ground. His little sprite had made a bed for herself on one of the sturdy limbs above.
She looked so quaint and contented, one of her booted legs cocked up for balance, while the other hung down. Her hair was an untamed mass tumbling over her shoulders, and he smiled at how peaceful she looked. “Found yourself a perch, have you,” he tugged at her boot.
