Page 29 of A Lady's Curves
Irise late, and while Oscar came to my bed and held me in the night, he is gone when I wake. Somehow that’s disappointing, despite knowing he had no choice but to leave before the staff started their day.
Dressing, I’m delightfully sore and anxious to see him. We will finalize the details of the picnic today. Besides the fraudulent postings and the money taken, the books for Kensfield Manor are in good condition. I’ve made all the corrections and left notes for whoever takes the steward’s job. That will be my last act as Oscar’s Everton Lady. I will interview and hire a replacement to manage his estates.
Somehow that makes me very sad.
It’s past eleven when I go downstairs.
Honoria is still at the breakfast table. “You’re up late.”
“I was tired.” I sit next to her at the round table. It sits in an archway in front of windows that face west. The other seat is empty. “Did his lordship finish his breakfast already?”
Honoria sips her tea. “He was gone before I got up. I think he had an errand.”
Trying not to look as disappointed as I feel isn’t easy. I hopeI’m successful. “I see. Well, we’ll finalize the menu for the picnic tomorrow without him.”
“There will be some games, I’m told. His lordship hired a few circus performers. It should be good fun and the weather is so fine.” Honoria grins like a girl.
“I’m sure it will be a fine time and perhaps will make up for the lack of a Lady Day celebration.” I accept a cup of chocolate and spread butter on a piece of toast.
“Were the farmers satisfied with the financial agreement his lordship offered?” She finishes the last of her coddled eggs and puts her fork down.
A footman rushes over and takes the plate away.
We’ve been in Devonshire for several days and have accomplished so much that I’d nearly forgotten how brilliantly Oscar handled the seed situation. “They were pleased that his lordship explained all the details of what happened. He told them all the truth about Mr. Bellston, and he’ll expect the cost of the grain to be deducted from what the farms pay this season.”
“It’s always wise to be honest.” She sits back with her teacup. “I think he’s in love with you, Ann.”
My heart tightens as if someone has strapped a rope around it. “Who?”
“Don’t be daft,” Honoria scolds. “You know very well to whom I am referring.
Tears are trying very hard to push their way up as my emotions bubble. Joy, fear, and denial are all at odds inside me. I have to hold them at bay. “Oscar Stafford is not in love with me,” I whisper, since a footman and Hodgins are still in the breakfast room.
“You don’t think so?” Honoria smiles as if she has a secret.
I don’t like it. “No. In fact, I’m certain you’ve lost your mind. Why would you say such a thing?”
Putting her cup in the saucer, she smiles, then pats her hair,which is already falling from its loose bun. “I believe it’s obvious, my dear. He looks at you as if you are the sun and the moon. You can ask anyone who has seen the two of you together and they will say the same.”
Like an imbecile, I look over at Hodgins.
The butler’s stern expression softens, he gives a slight nod, and his expression returns to its natural state.
“I’m sure you’re mistaken. Regardless, my work here is nearly done, and we will go back to London. I’m sure his lordship will travel to Scotland once there’s a permanent steward in place.” I should be stronger, but my chest aches with the idea that soon I’ll never see Oscar again.
After three weeks at Kensfield, the books are in order and I’ve narrowed the search for a steward down to two gentlemen.
Oscar has been in good spirits, though we have not repeated our rendezvous at the pond. I know he goes there most nights, but I have stayed away. It’s better this way. It would be foolish to become too attached to a man I cannot have. I made my choice years ago.
I check my hair in the glass. I’m to meet Oscar at the picnic and welcome the neighborhood.
Satisfied that my rose-colored dress is appropriate for the event, I feel good about the work I’ve done. As the day is lovely, I forgo a shawl and head downstairs.
Hodgins stands at the bottom of the stairs. “I was about to deliver this.” He holds a letter. “It came for you a few minutes ago.”
I take it and my heart sinks, immediately recognizing my name in my father’s handwriting. “Thank you.”
“Is something amiss, Miss Wittman?” He stares at me. “You’ve gone quite pale.”
