As they talked and ate, her worries of earlier drifted into her mind. She decided to confide in Viola.
“I’m nervous about being in high society with the countess and her family,” Bernadette told her softly. “She’s insisting on it, and I don’t like it.”
“Well? Is the viscount fond of being in high society?”
“No!” Bernadette’s answer was immediate. She knew he felt almost as exposed in social situations as herself—possibly more, since she might not have stood out, but he stood out for the wrong reasons. She sighed inwardly. Nobody could honestly believe the scar marred him. Since coming to know him better, she either failed to notice it, or saw how it added to his handsomeness, giving him a rugged quality others did not have.
“Well, then,” Viola said with a smile. “If he doesn’t want half of society there, I’m sure he will object to it.”
“Mayhap,” Bernadette admitted. She knew Lord Blackburne rather well, now, and she felt almost certain that he would say nothing. He was a strong person, but, like herself, he felt duty-bound to obey his family. She couldn’t see him objecting to anything his grandfather wished. And both his grandparents seemed as set on exposure to society as each other.
“And you?” Viola asked gently. “What is your opinion on the matter?”
“Me?” Bernadette said slowly. “Well...” She lifted her shoulder, thinking. “It does not worry me as once it would have,” she admitted. “Society is not as frightening now as once it was.”
“Well! That’s grand,” Viola said slowly. She smiled.
They talked further, and then, at four o’ clock, Viola excused herself and Judy appeared only a few seconds later, asking Bernadette what gown she wished to wear. Bernadette’s stomach knotted nervously. It was one thing talking to Viola about defying the countess, but another thing doing it. She knew that her mother and Lady Lockwood would both expect her to wear one of the showy, elaborate gowns that they both seemed to insist were fashionable and suitable. But she wanted to wear something simple, something that suited her and made her feel more at ease.
“The pale purple gown, please.” She had a gown somewhere between lilac and plum, her favorite gown. It had been made for her a few Seasons before, and was one she wore often, so it was a little worn at the hem, but she’d stitched it so nobody would notice. Judy grinned.
“Of course, milady.”
Bernadette stared at her reflection in the mirror as, an hour later, Judy arranged her hair. Loose curls framed her face, the lilac gown soft and making her hazel eyes seem striking. Her brown hair had a soft gold sheen in the candlelight, and she tilted her head, pleased with her appearance.
That is rather pleasing,she told herself firmly.What I choose to wear to an informal dinner is entirely up to me.
She felt much more steadfast in her decisions. Her heart thudded with excitement as she dabbed fragrance on her wrist. She couldn’t wait to see Lord Blackburne.
“Milady!” Judy called from the window. “The coach is readyfor us!” She was pointing out into the street, eyes wide with excitement. Bernadette smiled to herself. She bit her lip, not wanting to grin too openly. Anticipation was bubbling through her like the churning waters of a stream, but she needed to be calm.
She drifted to the door, trying to resist the urge to hurry to the Rothendale coach, which would transport her to Aldford House.
“Let us set off at once, please,” Bernadette called up to the coachman as she and Judy alighted, voice light with excitement. They set off through the streets, the sky a soft turquoise with the impending dusk.
The streets passed in a wash of color and form that she barely noticed for excitement, and they drew up outside Aldford House.
Bernadette’s heart thumped nervously. The place was tall and stone-dressed, a little more recently built than Rothendale House, to judge from the columned entrance and ornamental scrollwork around the door. She jumped down, taking the coachman’s hand, and swallowed a lump in her throat. What if his family were all like his grandparents? Spending an evening being instructed and implicitly criticized would be horrible.
She walked up the stairs to the door and knocked.
“Ah! Miss Rowland,” the butler greeted her, eyes crinkling with his smile. “Good evening. The family is expecting you.”
Bernadette bit her lip, mouth dry.
Then she saw him there, in the hallway, wearing a dark blue velvet jacket, his long dark trousers well-fitting to his shapely legs. She grinned, her heart pounding and her thoughts a little giddy at seeing him again. He smiled at her, making it so that she could look nowhere else.
“Good evening, Miss Rowland,” he greeted, inclining his head in a swift bow.
“Good evening, Lord Blackburne.”
She dropped a curtsey. Judy was behind her on the stairs, but Bernadette was only very distantly aware of her surroundings. Lord Blackburne held all her thoughts, his tall presence beside her, his soft smile lighting his eyes when he gazed at her.
“Come upstairs,” he said warmly. “Everyone is waiting to meet you.”
Chapter 17
Nicholas drew in a nervous breath. He tried to drag his eyes away from Miss Rowland, but he found that he could not. Her soft hair glowed in the candlelight, the long lilac gown accenting her soft curves and making her eyes seem even brighter. Her dress was simple and unembellished, and it suited her well—unfussy and pretty at once. The smell of her—roses and lavender—still set his head spinning. He grinned at her, taking another long breath in, and trying to be calm.
