Page 15 of Miss Dramatic
Gavin had left the place feeling like a combination sacrificial goat and village fool.
“The path along the Twid is lovely at this time of evening,” he said. “Let’s enjoy it, shall we?” He held Rose’s chair, as he had a hundred times in the past, but denied himself the pleasure of leaning over her for a moment, murmuring in her ear, and otherwise making a cake of himself.
And yet, a small, stupid part of him still wanted to. Wanted to pretend they were embarking on another flirtation, one that could end more happily.
His dignity alone ought to prevent such a catastrophe, ably assisted by his common sense.
Rose took his arm, and they wound down the garden path, greeting other guests and eventually leaving the formal parterres.
I’ve missed you.Gavin understood that sentiment—they’d shared considerable pleasure, and only some of it in bed—but he need not indulge it.
“If we go this way,” Rose said, gesturing to the left, “we might come upon my book of poetry. A thorough search of my effects leads me to conclude that I left Mr. Wordsworth on the banks of the Twid.”
“You left him on the towpath,” Gavin replied. “I retrieved him. If you’d like to hack out with me tomorrow afternoon, I can return him to you then.”
The words were out, unplanned and unrehearsed. Not really a disaster either. Entirely in keeping with starting afresh and consistent with the behavior of guests who’d met earlier in the summer. Rose would doubtless decline though.
“What time?”
Erm…“Four-ish. The heat is waning by then, and thunderstorms are unlikely. Roland needs to learn how to comport himself in company and how to behave when the outing is purely for the joy of the fresh air.”
“I have my riding habit with me,” Rose said, “and I would appreciate time in the saddle. One thing I do like about managing Colforth Hall is hacking out on my acres. I like knowing when the berries are ripening by the bridge and whether last night’s storm yielded any deadfall. Tenants who would never approach me at the Hall will stop to chat with me on the farm lanes. Dane said his father had found the same thing to be true.”
“You still miss your husband.” Not a little of their previous dealings had been taken up with her reminiscences of married life. Dane Roberts had been affectionate, witty, devoted to his wife, and taken much too soon. Gavin could not resent even such a paragon as that, because the poor fellow wasn’t on hand to bask in his wife’s adoration.
“Not as I once did,” she said. “Nunn told me that time would help, and it has.”
Gavin had had no illusions about the role he’d been intended to play for her. He’d been her first venture into the terrain of the merry widow, her attempt to get back on the horse. That his ambitions had soon run far ahead of her stated agenda wasn’t her fault.
For the first time, he wanted to ask her if she considered their previous venture a success. Not rail at her, demand explanations, and air his hurt feelings, but discuss the situation as two adults benefiting from hindsight.
He was entitled to rail at her, of that he had no doubt, but what would be the point? More sacrificing of his dignity, for no purpose.
“Shall we invite others to ride out with us?” Rose asked as the Twid drifted by and a mistle thrush began singing his birdy vespers high up in a lime tree.
“I’d be happy to, though Roland hasn’t much experience in company. Let’s start with a duet, and if that goes well, he can graduate to larger groups over the next two weeks.”
“A sound plan. Ah, we have company.”
Lord Phillip and his lady strolled up the path, husband and wife holding hands rather than adopting the posture of an escort and his companion.
“DeWitt, Mrs. Roberts, a fine evening for a constitutional,” Lord Phillip called. “In fact, I was hoping to run into you.”
They had left the garden in plain view of the whole company, sohopinghadn’t come into it. Phillip—who was as observant as he was decent—had planned this meeting, recruited his favorite accomplice, and abandoned his dinner companions to accost Gavin in relative privacy.
“The property is lovely,” Rose said. “Makes me wish we had some abandoned towpaths on Colforth land.”
“You must convey those sentiments to Lord Tavistock,” Phillip said. “If I might impose briefly, I’d like to commend you to the company of my lady wife, Mrs. Roberts. I need a moment of DeWitt’s time.”
Phillip was shrewd, he wasn’t always subtle, and he probably thought he was rescuing Gavin. “Mrs. Roberts, will you excuse me?”
“Of course, and my thanks for a pleasant meal.”
So polite, so prosaic, and yet, honest too. They’d gone beyond small talk without stumbling into recriminations or—worse yet—doomed flirtations. Gavin watched the ladies retreating, arm in arm, and sorted through unexpected sentiments.
“What can you possibly be thinking?” Phillip said, taking Gavin by the elbow and steering him in the opposite direction.
“I’m wondering if Mrs. Roberts and I might aspire to become friends.” Not lovers, not enemies, not allies, but… friends. Hmm.
