Page 47 of A Torn Allegiance
“I was most interested in the question you wish to ask.”
“I think I can still ask it.” Hayes leaned closer. “You seem to be most interested in my relationship with Lord Everly—your sister as well.”
Lord Devon nodded and seemed to consider something before he shrugged. “Naturally, Lord Everly has become somewhat of an opponent of our family as an estate holder near us. He represents those who wish to let sheep run freely over all the land.”
“And my association with the man?”
“Exactly. What is your association with him?” Lord Devon’s gaze was pointed and sincere, and Hayes knew it was important to Elsie and her brother to know the nature of his relationship with the Scottish lord.
“I have no relationship with Lord Everly.” His murmur surely reached Lord Devon, but the man did not respond as they approached the Queen and bowed low.
Hayes might have enjoyed the Queen’s company and that of her daughters, the luxurious comfort and constant refreshment that came at the hands of palace servants, but his position on the elevated platform gave him a clear view of the dance floor and therefore Lady Elsie as she danced every set thereafter with a different man. He tried not to allow it to affect him so, but every smile, every touch, every laugh directed at another, Hayes wished were sent in his direction instead.
After an interminably long ball, he and Lord Devon bid farewell to Queen Charlotte and the princesses. As they made their way out to await the carriage, Lady Elsie and her parents joined them. But she didn’t look or speak to him. He assumed that his brothers and Bartholomew would be departing later, when convenient. But Bartholomew arrived to join them.
With seven, that made an overly crowded carriage too cozy. Hayes was about to step aside when Lord Devon put a hand on his arm. “I think I shall amuse myself with the other two Wilhelms. I find I am not quite ready to leave.”
Bartholomew dipped his head. “Thank you.”
As Lord Devon stepped away, Hayes overheard his murmur to Barth-olomew. “I think Lady Sophie will much prefer you to me. Don’t let me hear you have wasted this opportunity.”
Hayes snorted, and Lord Devon clapped Bartholomew on the shoulder and then made his way back inside.
When the carriage approached, Hayes moved to help Lady Elsie into her family carriage, but the pressure she placed on his hand was so swift and light that he wasn’t certain she had used his hand at all. Still, his hand noticed her absence. The others climbed in. He offered his hand to Lady Sophie. When he, too, finally stepped inside, the only spot left for him to sit was at Lady Elsie’s side. Had heaven smiled upon him?
He couldn’t control the grin that filled his face. Bartholomew eyed him with great amusement. Lady Elsie looked away, the slight pink to her cheeks emboldening Hayes somewhat.
“This is nice.” The many people in one carriage required that he sit pressed up against her. “Close quarters are pleasant, depending on the company.” He couldn’t believe his own boldness, but the duke smiled, and the duchess seemed as amused as her husband.
As the carriage began to move, the duchess hugged herself. “I am happy we are so cozy here together. It’s turned cold, hasn’t it?”
“That it has.” Bartholomew grinned further.
Lady Sophie exchanged glances with her friend. She and Bartholomew also sat close. And then, to Elsie’s apparent amusement, Bartholomew stretched his arms up high, filling up the area around himself. “Oh, excuse me, am I taking your space?”
Lady Sophie laughed. “You are, yes.”
“Oh, terribly sorry.” He moved his arms back to his side, but they seemed more uncomfortable that way. “Perhaps?” He lifted his arm again and turned to Lady Sophie in question.
“I suppose you must, given the circumstances.”
Bartholomew adjusted his arm along the top of the bench behind her, and it might have been Hayes’s imagination, but she looked a bit as though she enjoyed it.
Hayes turned to Lady Elsie. “We are cramped as well, don’t you think? What do you suggest?”
When she turned to him, her face looked as though she might flay him before she would smile, but then she surprised him and shrugged, then leaned forward slightly to give his arm some room. “We will fit better, won’t we?”
He lifted his arm and placed it across the back of their carriage seat. “There. Much better, if you ask me.” He shifted so their seating felt cozier.
Elsie didn’t say anything, and the others in the carriage hardly held back their amusement, but Hayes was pleased to have even this small moment with her and to be on such congenial terms with her family in the carriage. He laughed as she sat stiff-backed, trying not to touch him with the sway of the carriage. They hit a bump, and even the well-equipped carriage did not ease the sway that sent her up against him. He put his arm around her, securing her at his side. She joined his laughter, and the sound lessened his concerns further. The smile she sent up into his face sent a wave of relief through him.
Every subtle change in her reactions to him sent a corresponding storm of emotion through him. He could only breathe out in relief that perhaps they were once again on good terms. The soft folds of her gown flowed down between them and nearly covered his feet. Her small hands rested in her lap, one so close to his own that he wished to interlace their fingers like they had on the veranda, before everything had turned awkward between them. Her light smell of lemon wafted in his direction now and again. She was swiftly becoming the most important part of his visit to England. He might have felt uncomfortable at that, for what could be more important than his nation, than his southern farmers? Than his country’s alliance with England and their help for the possible French factions at his border? Before this visit, he might have said nothing could be more important. But judging by his reactions to this powerful person at his side, a tie to her, a beautiful life with her, might rival any of that. And were she to be the right woman, she might make all the difference for his country.
Astounded at his thoughts, at the growing importance one woman could have to him, he let the sway of the carriage bring them closer together, cradling her more with the arm across her back, and as the carriage was about to arrive, he rested his hand on the softness of her skin at her shoulder.
Her soft gasp both concerned and gratified him, but the soft smile to grace her lips emboldened him enough that he ran one finger along the top of her shoulder in a soft circle before cupping the whole of it with his hand until they arrived in front of her home.
But as she stood to leave without another glance in his direction, as she made her way into the house, he shook his head at his folly. Then he turned to Bartholomew once they were alone. “What if she doesn’t care for me?”
