But he was gone.
Chapter Three
“Perhaps they are poor, Amelia. His sister could well have needed the gloves more than I,” Clara said after I told her of my encounter with the stranger.
“They are not poor.” I handed her the bag of ribbons, full to the brim. Apparently, the man had been quite generous.
Clara pulled them out one by one, exclaiming over the colors and fabric and praising the generosity of the man who’d denied her what she currently needed most. It was just like a man of wealth to think he could buy a good opinion with money, as though I would easily forget his selfishness. I shook my head to rid my thoughts of him. He’d made his choice, and he was gone. And there was only one thing I could do now.
“Here.” I pinched off my buff-colored gloves, handing them to Clara.
“What are you doing? I will not accept your gloves; it is my own fault mine are gone.” Clara shook her head, scooting away from me.
“Take them, Clara. I care little for what Sir Ronald’s company thinks of me. I can hide my hands in my skirts.”
“Surely someone belowstairs will have a pair I can sew up for you, Miss Amelia,” Mary said from her corner of the coach.
“There. You see? Mary and I will sort out another pair.” I tossed the gloves to Clara, who tugged them on reluctantly.
Moments later, the coachman rapped on the roof, and we looked out the east window just as the coach drove out of the lined woods and into an expansive clearing. There in the middle of the freshly cut lawn sat a grand estate, sandy-
colored with four stories of parallel windows lining the
front, reflecting the light from the setting sun. The double doors to the house were open. Our coach pulled into the drive, and a footman hurried out.
He opened my door and helped me down, followed by Clara. Just as my nerves started to get the best of me, a beautifully dressed, ginger-headed woman walked out to greet us. She was elegant and fair, bearing an air of authority as she approached us.
“Welcome, ladies. You must be the Misses Moore. I am Lady Demsworth, Ronald’s mother. Ronald has told me so much about you both, and it is such a joy to have you here at Lakeshire Park.” Sincerity flowed through every word, and she reached out for us, inviting us near.
“Thank you so much, Lady Demsworth.” I urged Clara ahead, following behind her. “We are very happy to be here.”
“Yes,” agreed Clara. “What a lovely estate. Amelia and I have missed the countryside dearly.”
Lady Demsworth took Clara’s arm affectionately. “That’s right. Ronald told me you were raised in Kent. I am sure Brighton is a vastly different environment. I hope this visit is a comfortable reminder of fond memories.”
Clara smiled graciously. “Thank you, Lady Demsworth. It already is.”
“I am sure you’re both ready to dress, but everyone is so excited to make your acquaintance. Might I introduce you to the party first? We’ve kept it rather small in hopes of a casual gathering and creating an opportunity to become better acquainted with Ronald’s closest friends.”
“Of course we do not mind,” Clara said. “Mary will have just enough time to ready our things.”
I followed closely behind the two as they entered the house, comfort enfolding me like a warm, heavy blanket. I tried to place the feeling, to name the unfamiliar warmth that relaxed my heart. All I knew was that here, nestled in the middle of nowhere, I could breathe. How I hoped these next two weeks were only the beginning, that we could finally find refuge within these walls once Clara made a match with Sir Ronald.
We’d just reached the foot of the grand marble staircase when Lady Demsworth veered left. Another set of double doors, white and trimmed with gold, stood as the entrance to the bustling drawing room.
Lady Demsworth fiddled with a string of pearls around her neck as though she, too, held high hopes for these next two weeks. As we entered the room, a click of the door signaled to me that the clock had finally begun.
Two weeks to secure my sister’s happiness.
My pulse quickened as Clara and I were introduced to the company. First was Mrs. Turnball, a refined woman of few words, though her gaze spoke volumes of her character. Her eyes were soft but focused, her head held high and resolute as she greeted us.
Meanwhile, her daughter, Miss Beatrice Turnball, fawned over Clara’s golden hair, claiming her own brown and my auburn to be far inferior. “You must call me Beatrice,” she said. “We shall be fast friends.”
Next were two gentlemen sitting on the settee across from the window engaged in boisterous conversation. Both men stood at our approach, bowing deeply.
“Mr. Bratten of London,” Lady Demsworth introduced. The tall, skinny man with a youthful countenance smiled proudly. “And Lieutenant Rawles, who dutifully serves our country.”
“At present, my services are not required,” the lieutenant corrected. “I am on half-pay until the king has better need of me.” His rough, unkempt exterior, including an unshaven jaw and scarred right eyebrow, was intimidating, despite his smile.
I could’ve sworn the two men cast each other a knowing glance as we walked away.
“Where is Sir Ronald?” Clara shyly asked Lady Demsworth as we rounded the room.
“Getting another arrival settled. The Woods arrived just before you, and Ronald is very good friends with Mr. Wood. The two haven’t seen each other in nearly a year.”
“Miss Wood is here?” Clara’s voice fell flat, but she recovered with a generous smile.
Blast our bad luck.
“Yes.” Lady Demsworth nodded. “Ronald said you’d be eager to meet her. In fact, your rooms are beside each other upstairs.”
Just then, the doors burst open, and Sir Ronald’s laughter filled the quiet room. Everyone stood to greet their host. Clara rose on her tiptoes, aiding his view of her.
“Miss Clara! You’ve arrived.” Sir Ronald made his way to her, guiding a bustling, curly-headed blonde by his side. “I trust your journey was uneventful.”
“Indeed.” Clara grinned. “We were so pleased for the invitation.”
“It is I who am pleased . . . to see you again so soon.” Sir Ronald’s smile grew serious and sweet, and my heart swooned for Clara.
The blonde girl, who Sir Ronald introduced as Miss Georgiana Wood, wedged herself perfectly between him and Clara. Her smile was fixed as she said, “Surely you are tired from such a long journey.”
“Not at all,” I said, raising my chin. Her presence alone put me on guard. Georgiana was a certain kink in our plans.
Sir Ronald pulled both ladies into conversation, and a comfortable murmur filled the room as the company fell into pairs and trios. I stepped back, suddenly out of place, like a stranger among a group of old friends. Now was the perfect time to dress for dinner. I could be back down before Clara noticed I’d gone.