Page 42 of Her Impeccable Scoundrel
Blythe was quiet. Too quiet.
“How are you faring?” he’d asked.
She managed a smile. “I am cast down entirely. The biscuits and lemonade had disappeared by the time Hermione and I reached the tables.”
Graeme smiled, touched that she had found a way to defuse some of the evening’s tension, and he listened as she told him the names of the villagers and nearby landowners in attendance.
By the time he went to look for Crichton, Stockwell informed him that the fellow, unable to wait, had left.
Unable or unwilling?
Stockwell said Crichton had heard of the problem at Bluebelle Lodge—one of the tenants had told one of Lord Diddenton’s tenants. He claimed to know nothing about it and promised to have a look the next day.
When the dancing resumed, Blythe declined to dance with Mr. Jarrow and it appeared no one else asked her. Graeme himself was busy mingling, meeting the town’s doctor, the local solicitor, and some of his own tenants. He met a few more of the good ladies of the town. Each time they hinted he should dance with their daughters, he told them he needed to seek out Lady Chilcombe and Lady Gravelston and see how they were faring.
Those ladies had cut Blythe and Lady Hermione, and as far as he was concerned, the sins of the mothers might as well as be visited upon their daughters.
The exception being Miss Jarrow, but he would not dance with her twice because in a village this small and gossipy, he might find the first banns posted next Sunday.
They’d arrived late, and stayed until the music ended, and he could feel nothing but admiration for Blythe for soldiering on, and gratitude to Lady Hermione for helping her to find the courage.
Chapter Ten
“We had some success tonight,” Hermione said.
She and Blythe stood apart from other attendees, waiting while Graeme went to order their carriage.
He, at least, had not been spurned by the good folk of Risley. Nor had she been entirely rejected. After the closely watched exchange with Frederick Falfield, a few people new to the area, and some of the local tradespeople, had greeted her. Hermione’s presence, good humor and obvious good character, had helped to smooth the way. The next test, she supposed, would come when she took Coralie and Nicholas to church.
“My lady,” a small voice whispered.
Blythe gasped and smiled. “Mirabelle. How grown up you are. I did not notice you in attendance tonight.”
The girl smiled. “Mama allowed me to come but not to dance.” She glanced behind her and leaned closer. “How is Coralie? You must give her my greetings. I miss her so much.”
Only two years older than Coralie, Mirabelle had been her great friend. She and her older siblings and other children had played along the stream and in the meadow at Bluebelle Lodge, and on the land that was now Diddenton’s.
“She is well,” Blythe said, “and she misses you too.”
Coralie had mentioned seeing Mirabelle at the village shops and waving, but her friend had been quickly hauled away by her mother or governess.
The girl chewed her lower lip. “Oh, I wish I could?—”
“Mirabelle!” Mirabelle’s mother appeared out of the shadows. Her eyes widened and then narrowed on Blythe. “Come away from that woman,” she said.
The girl ducked her head. “S-sorry,” she whispered and allowed herself to be led away.
Stunned, Blythe froze and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she saw Graeme’s frown.
He’d seen.
Bluebelle Lodge. She must get to Bluebelle Lodge, and when she did, she would hide there until this misery dissipated.
But even as she thought that, she knew it wasn’t possible for her to run and hide. She had to see this through. She might have a battle to fight, and she couldn’t do it from Bluebelle Lodge.
* * *
Graeme had left them for only a moment to order their carriage, returning to hear the girl asking about someone named Coralie, and her mother’s words: Come away from that woman.
