Page 61 of Leap of Faith
“How could I not? Taywards feels like heaven to me.
“I feel the same. However, I am supremely biased.”
“You have the luxury of an estate so close to London.”
“The best of both worlds, is it not? My other estate in Cumberland overlooks one of the lakes, with a mountain as a background.”
“I could be happy with a small cottage with a prospect of water to gaze at from a window or porch. Even a pond would do.”
“Do you picture that as your future?”
“Why not?”
He did not answer her with words, but a certain look she was unable to decipher. When next she noticed, he had directed the boat to the far shore, where he began to tie the vessel to a small pier.
“Where are we at?” she asked.
“There is somewhere I thought you might like to see, given your affinity for water.”
He assisted her from the small craft and they walked upward some hundred feet to where a small waterfall flowed downward under a bridge.
She gasped in appreciation.
“This was always my favourite spot as a boy. That bridge has been my deepest confidante.”
Faith nodded, understanding. “I had a similar spot at Halbury. It was not a watering spot, but there was a beautiful cliff overlooking Bath and the valley where it seemed I was closer to my parents—to God. There was a time when no one understood what it felt like to be orphaned and left with four younger sisters.”
They passed some time in companionable silence before Lord Westwood broke the peaceful reverence.
“I suppose we should be returning to London soon.” His voice almost sounded regretful.
Faith was in no hurry to leave the ideal of the country. However, they returned to the boat and he rowed them back across the lake. It was the first she could remember they had not crossed swords for an entire day.
When the horses were brought around, the dowager was there to bid them adieu.
She held out her hand to Faith and pulled her close to kiss her cheek. “I see you have enjoyed yourself today. Consider him, my dear,” she whispered in Faith’s ear and patted her on the cheek, leaving Faith to her uncomfortable thoughts on the ride back to London—on the one hand, flattered that his grandmother considered her worthy, and on the other, that she very much doubted Lord Westwood was of the same mind.
* * *
On this she erred.Faith was on Lord Westwood’s mind a great deal, along with the rest of Society. A flock of men awaited outside Westwood House each day to ascertain whether to attend his mother’s drawing room or to follow the ladies like a gaggle of geese, as Joy referred to them. Every morning, there was some mention of them in the Society pages—which was no great thing—except when it was. This morning, as Dominic read his morning paper over the coffee cups, there was much of interest.
Whatever wasLondon like before the Whitford ladies descended upon us? Seeing their beauty each morning as they ride along Rotten Row, walking their kitten on a lead in the park, or stealing the thunder from all of the other young ladies at Almack’s?
But rumour has it, not all of the ladies are, shall we say, ladylike, as one was reportedly seen attempting to stand on her head atop her horse in the park. Do we have a future Astley’s acrobat in our midst?
Dominic groaned. “Joy!”
In other news,not wholly unrelated to the Whitford sisters, Sir Julian has reportedly left Town for the Martingale house party. But was it a planned event or has he gone to lick his wounds after so public a rebuff from the Season’s Incomparable?
Dominic mulled over this information.His first thought was this was a trick. Sir Julian would only be more determined in his plan to ruin Faith, and what better way than to make Dominic let down his guard? Perhaps he would allow the ladies to attend the Knighton masquerade after all. It had been deemed too risky to protect them with Sir Julian lurking about, but it might be a useful place to beat him at his own game. If Sir Julian were truly gone, then the ladies could simply enjoy themselves.
Dominic dashed off a note to Westwood House and sent it with the footman before he went for his morning ride, informing the girls that he would call on them after breakfast.
Having placed his hat atop his head and taken his horsewhip in his hand, no sooner had Dominic walked down his front steps than he was accosted by a caller trying to solicit Miss Whitford’s hand.
“Lord Westwood! I was just about to call on you. A moment of your time, I beg of you!” Mr. Dankworth proclaimed.
Dominic pulled out his quizzing glass and stared at the fop before him. Instead, he looked down upon him with his frostiest stare and summoned his chilliest voice. “Anyone wishing to be taken seriously by me will not accost me as I leave my house, nor will he be so rude as to come at an hour which is preserved for activities other than calls.” He turned to his horse, which the groom was patiently holding. Maximus, responding to his master’s tone, whinnied and pawed at the ground. “Just so, Max.”
