“I said it in a jovial way, Albert,” he said. “But no, I am not joking. Miss Elwood sounds like she just might be the one for you. She loves art, and it sounds like she didn’t flinch at all the people looking at you like the scum that they themselves are. And believe it or not, your eyes change whenever you say her name.”
Albert shook his head, all his previous humor gone.
“But today is further confirmation of what it is that I’ve sought for three years,” he said. “And that is the life of a complete recluse. For the rest of my days.”
Neil studied Albert for a long moment, and Albert anticipated his friend to argue. But that’s not exactly what happened.
“Listen,” he said, pouring them each a little more to drink before returning the bottle to the cabinet. “Rachel and I are having a picnic at the park in two days. You should join us and bring Miss Elwood with you. Take two more days to think about what you just said, and give the picnic a chance.” He paused, then smirked. “And I know that you’re thinking that you will not change your mind. That’s fine. So long as you agree to come, that’s the most I can ask.”
Albert chuckled, shaking his head. He couldn’t understand why it was so important to Neil to accept such an invitation. But he supposed it couldn’t hurt. He wouldn’t be alone with Miss Elwood, but nor would he be in the middle of a busy public place, for all the prying and disgusted eyes of London to judge and scrutinize him. And he would have the support of his friends, both with the outing and with any eyes that did wander in their direction with their horrified expressions.
“Very well,” he said reluctantly. “I will invite her and, if she agrees, we will attend.”
Chapter Seventeen
“You must tell me everything,” Isabel said, startling Martha as she sat reading in bed that evening.
Martha looked up to see her cousin, holding a bottle of champagne and two flutes, dressed in her white night dress and smiling like the following day was her wedding day. Which, of course, it was.
Martha giggled.
“Come in, silly,” she said. “Shouldn’t you be getting your beauty rest for tomorrow?”
Isabel rolled her eyes.
“I am thrilled to be marrying Patrick,” she said. “But that is a certainty. Right now, I want to know how my dearest Martha fared on her date.”
It was Martha’s turn to roll her eyes.
“You ask as though it was anything special,” she said.
Isabel shook her head, gently though, as she was pouring them each a glass of champagne.
“You looked rather dreamy at dinner this evening,” she said. “You didn’t even remark when we were discussing the wedding breakfast.”
Martha blushed. She had been preoccupied with the memories of the day. Not so much of the museum, but of the conversations both to and from there.
“It was fine,” she said matter-of-factly.
Isabel stared at her dumbly as she handed Martha her flute.
“Fine?” she asked. “You must give me more than that.”
Martha took her glass and shrugged.
“What more do you want?” she asked. “We went to see art. We did just that. Then, he brought me home. And that’s it.”
Isabel continued staring.
“That’s it?” she asked. “Then why did you have that silly smile on your face?”
Martha’s blush deepened. She took a gulp of the champagne, which Isabel promptly refreshed.
“We had a lovely time,” she admitted. “And nice conversation.”
Isabel’s face lit up.
“I knew it,” she said. “Tell me all about it.”
