Romancing the Heiress(29)
Author: Darcy Burke

 

Hell, he’d see Leah too. He nearly tripped and wished he hadn’t drunk that third tankard.

 

His gait slowed as he neared the benches where they’d been sitting. He came upon them from behind a grouping of camellias, but hesitated when he heard Mrs. Selkirk speaking to Mrs. Dunhill in a low tone. “We’re so close to getting the money. Less than a fortnight.”

 

What money? Was she referring to Genevieve’s dowry?

 

Mrs. Dunhill turned her head, and Phin realized she saw him, so he walked forward, forcing a smile as he looked about for Genevieve. She wasn’t there. Thankfully, neither was Leah.

 

“Mr. Radford, you’ve returned,” Mrs. Dunhill said.

 

He came around the benches to stand before the one where the two women were huddled together. “Yes, I was hoping to speak with Gen—Miss Selkirk.”

 

Mrs. Selkirk’s brows shot up at his faux pas, but she didn’t address it. “She is currently dancing. You’ve had your dance for the evening.”

 

“I didn’t come to ask her to dance. I thought we might promenade.” He didn’t think that would be possible. He really shouldn’t have had that last tankard. His brain was becoming a little soft. That, or this day was finally defeating him. “Perhaps I might call on her—and you—tomorrow at the New Inn?”

 

Mrs. Dunhill gently elbowed Mrs. Selkirk, who sat up straighter. “I see. If it’s all the same to you, may I ask until you wait until the day after? Tomorrow is the Grand Picnic, and Genevieve needs to be able to spend time with each of her suitors. Including you,” she added with a smile.

 

That meant his plan was not assured. This was heading for disaster. Perhaps he ought to go and find Genevieve and compromise her.

 

Get ahold of yourself!

 

He wasn’t that sort of man. That he’d even considered such a thing, even for a second, made him ill.

 

“Very well,” he said, somehow managing to summon another smile. He bowed to them. “Good evening.”

 

Then he pivoted and strode off in the direction of Radford Grange. He was ready to lift the white flag of surrender and quit this day entirely.

 

Except this day apparently wasn’t done with him. He ran square into Leah.

 

Well, not into her, but he might have if she hadn’t said his name, startling him from his increasingly drunken thoughts. God, she was beautiful, her golden blonde hair pinned atop her head with a dark green ribbon threaded through it. The color matched the emerald of her gown, a jewel of a color, perhaps to compensate for the fact that she wore no adornment, save another ribbon around her throat. Ribbons, not jewels—simple accessories for a simple girl. Except she didn’t look simple. She looked regal and elegant in her London finery and with her mature confidence. She carried herself differently than before she’d left Marrywell. But she’d been barely more than a girl then, just nineteen. Now, she was a full-fledged woman, and didn’t he know it. He couldn’t see straight for thinking of her body against his and her tongue in his mouth.

 

He somehow managed to form words in spite of his ale consumption and the lust raging within him. “Excuse me, Leah. I was just on my way home.”

 

She stepped in front of him as he made to walk around him. Lifting her chin, she speared him with a demanding stare. “Why are you avoiding me?”

 

“I’m n—” He couldn’t bring himself to lie to her. Not about this anyway. He stepped off the path into the shadows. They were far from the nearest torch, but he could see her face well enough. She looked up at him with hurt in her gaze, and it tore him apart.

 

He started again. “I’m sorry. I just…I should not have kissed you since I am courting Genevieve. It was exceedingly awful of me, and I hope you can forgive me.”

 

She stared at him a moment before her lids dipped over her eyes and seemed to cloak whatever she was feeling. The hurt was no longer there. Indeed, nothing was there.

 

When she remained quiet, he pushed on, hating her silence and needing to fill the air with…something. “I suppose I was overcome with memories of the past and perhaps wanted to relive a little of it. That was silly of me.”

 

“We can’t go backward,” she said, softly. “You should know—and I say this because I care about you—that I don’t believe you and Genevieve will be happy in the long term. You scarcely know each other, and I’m not certain your preferences and sensibilities align. But you must decide for yourself. I only thought I should share my opinion, as someone who has known you a long time.”

 

“Nearly forever,” he murmured. “I appreciate your honesty.” And it somewhat echoed what Tom had told him. By marrying Genevieve, he could very well be consigning himself to a lifetime of disappointment.

 

“I need to get back to Genevieve. Goodbye, Phin.” She returned to the path and walked quickly away.

 

Phin watched her go and hated this situation he found himself in. More importantly, he rather hated himself.

 

He was nearly home before he realized what she’d said: goodbye. Not good night. And what did that mean?

 

 

 

 

 

Leah had barely slept. After walking away from Phin the night before, she’d wallowed in self-pity. Upon leaving her narrow cot that morning, she’d decided not to do that any longer. There was no point in it. Better to look ahead and hope for a positive and consequential meeting with Lord Murdock in a few days.

 

Besides, today was the Grand Picnic, arguably the best day of the festival. She hoped to row on the lake, but doubted she’d be allowed. Surely one or more of Genevieve’s suitors would take her onto the water, and Leah would just have to watch in envy. Ah well, she was growing used to that.

 

What a stupid idea it had been to return to Marrywell.

 

Genevieve glanced up from the newspaper she was perusing and fixed her gaze on the window of the sitting room in their suite. Her mouth dipped into a deep frown while her brow formed deep furrows. “Are we really to spend all day outside?” This was the third time she’d posed this question—or a similar one—since they’d risen that morning.

 

“Yes, it’s a picnic.”

 

“Botheration. Mayhap it will rain,” Genevieve said with a hopeful nod.

 

If Mrs. Selkirk had been present, she would have put a swift end to Genevieve’s complaints, but she and Mrs. Dunhill had gone to visit the milliner. Mrs. Dunhill insisted she needed a new hat for the picnic, something that would please Mr. Bilson no doubt.