A Provision For Love (Entangled Inheritance Book 1) Page 7

  Pearl opened my armoire and laid the pink muslin dress on my bed.

  Grandmother huffed. “And where are you going? A ball last night and now you are off, while I am stuck in this insufferable house?”

  I stood from the chair and smiled. I hoped my attempt would be enough to silence her anxiety. My determined gladness seemed to weaken with each of her bitter remarks. “I shall practice the pianoforte until callers come.”

  My grandmother lifted her chin, and her eyes rounded. My likeness to her, when she made that expression, surprised me. “Ah, then you think they shall come? Very well. I shall take tea.”

  I clamped my lips together to keep from making a remark I would regret and changed into my dress instead. The new dress had been a gift from my father. He was frugal, to a fault, and this dress stood as a testament of his love. I could quite imagine the difficulty he experienced in accepting the expense.

  Pearl fastened the buttons at the back of my dress before I left my room.

  I took the stairs two at a time, determining to write my father another letter after my practice. I would remind him how much I admired the new gown.

  Grandmother’s townhome, like everything else, was fashionably modest. The four-story home was in Mayfair, and though it was not the largest by any account, Percival had seen that the home’s furnishings and exterior were attended to with the best of workmanship.

  I reached the bottom of the stairs just as the butler opened the door.

  A deep voice rolled across the marble floor. “Lord William Egerton to call on Miss Linfield and her grandmother, Lady Barrington. I would have sent a note, but I was in the area and thought to drop by just now.”

  The butler ushered him inside, and I remained plastered to the bottom of the staircase like an immobile child.

  “Miss Linfield,” Lord Egerton said, removing his hat. He held a parcel beneath one arm. “I had hoped you were in.”

  “Lord Egerton,” I said. My voice echoed in the empty hall. I gripped the banister; no words nor greetings came to mind, and I remained frozen to the floor, tongue-tied in surprise.

  The butler, looking from Lord Egerton to me, cleared his throat. “I shall send a footman to notify your grandmother of Lord Egerton’s arrival, Miss Linfield. Shall I bring her to the drawing room?”

  “Yes, thank you, Elliot.” My lessons of decorum took over my senses, and I stepped toward the marquess, curtsying to an exaggerated degree. “Please forgive me. I did not expect you, but you are most welcome, Lord Egerton.”

  “I sincerely hope so.” He took my hand, kissing the top of it lightly. “I have brought you a gift.”

  “A gift?” I led him toward the drawing room. “I do not think one set of dances warrants anything of the sort. If anything, I hope you will forgive my behavior last night. For all the talk I’ve heard of Almack’s, I was not prepared for the…” I bit the inside of my cheek. “For the heat of the room and the size of the crowd.”

  “Nor the attention, I’d wager,” Lord Egerton said.

  My eyes widened, but I managed a smile. “Perhaps.”

  The drawing room was a mesh of feminine colors and furnishings. From the floral-papered walls and plastered cornices to the carved furnishings and blush curtains, I had decided, almost upon arrival, to spend my free time here.

  Lord Egerton handed me the parcel upon entrance in the room. “Lord St. Vincent can be most persistent in his attentions, but never mind that. Open it.”

  I took a seat on the settee. The package was small and fairly light. “I cannot guess at the contents.”

  “I will give you a hint, Miss Linfield. I was inclined to bring you a bouquet of flowers, but I decided against it. Such things wither away in no time at all, and I wished to make a more lasting impression.” Lord Egerton’s light eyes flooded over me, watching my every movement.

  Once I opened the box, relief overtook me. The gift was thoughtful but simple, nothing so very serious. I picked up the pair of gardening gloves and a package of seeds. “So, you thought I should like to plant flowers?”

  He nodded. “A planter of flowers lasts so much longer than a bouquet, and you said you enjoy gardening.”

  “I did. Thank you. I am impressed, Lord Egerton.”

  “With my memory or the gift?” he asked, taking the seat beside me.

  Light poured through the window, reflecting in his light eyes. The marquess was undeniably handsome, but I was glad to see he was equally considerate. “Both, my lord. I hardly remember mentioning gardening.”

  “Yes, well, I remembered. Now, tell me how you find London. I have been here so long that I find it fascinating to hear from those just arriving.”

  “As expected—lively, full of commotion and constant voices.” I traced my finger around the design of the gloves. In truth, my mind was so preoccupied on winning Bridgestone, that I had made little room in my heart for London. “Perhaps most alarming is the stench.”

  Lord Egerton nodded, crossing his legs. “Undoubtedly. I cannot decide whether my growing indifference to the smell should be commended or condemned. I think I have grown accustomed. Only when I return from the country do I notice the smell.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “You cannot be serious. The stench is infernal. You should visit the country more often, Lord—"

  Grandmother cleared her throat from the doorway, and I instantly stood in response. She grinned. “I hear we have a gentleman caller.”

  Lord Egerton stood and met her at the door. “Lady Barrington, please allow me to introduce myself. Lord Egerton, Marquess of Egerton and future Duke of Pemberton, at your service.” He bowed.

  Grandmother gave the slightest nod. Her brown eyes dropped to the pair of gloves in my hands. Her lips pulled at the edges in a satisfied manner. “And to what do we owe the honor of your presence to?”

  I sent her a look of warning. She seemed to be of the belief that title and status in society gave her permission to speak whatever she wished without the least of consequences. If I did not distract her, she might say something abominable about the gift in my hands. “Grandmother, come, sit beside me. Lord Egerton was just telling me how accustomed he is to London. He hardly notices the smell.”

  She strode past him, and her dark skirts swished with each movement. “Tell me, Ivy, what is that in your hands?”

  Lord Egerton trailed her, and he sat in the chair across from us.

  “A gesture of kindness from the marquess,” I said, holding up the gloves and packet of seeds.

  “As I told your granddaughter, Lady Barrington, I wanted to bring her flowers that might last a while.” Lord Egerton set his hands on his knees. “Do you share Miss Linfield’s affinity for gardening?”

  She snickered. “Not at all. Ivy inherited that trait from my late husband, Lord Barrington. My husband was always traipsing around the country with some plant or other. Did you know he commissioned a hedge maze, much like the one at Hampton Court, to be built on our grounds?”

  Lord Egerton leaned forward. “Is that so? I do so enjoy garden mazes. I fancy building one myself someday.”

  “Then you would have gotten along splendidly with my late husband. He rather enjoyed entertaining guests and taking them to the maze. He used to sit outside, watching his clock with satisfaction. He enjoyed stumping the guests, and he was always laughing about it.” Grandmother twisted her wedding ring, smiling in response to her own words. “I only fault him for leaving me.”

  Silence settled between our small party, and I felt compelled to fill it. “Lord Egerton, will you tell us of your family?”

  “If you would like, Miss Linfield.”

  He spoke at length of his family, freely and with pride.

  In our brief acquaintance, my interactions had become a task of checking Lord Egerton against my grandmother’s requirements. I detested that my season had become so regulated and bent on another’s wishes. Yet, Bridgestone remained of utmost importance.

  “Do you not agree, Ivy?” Grandmother aske
d, motioning toward the marquess.

  Lord Egerton tapped his fingertips of each hand together, as if he had been awaiting my response for some time.

  I clutched at my stomach and nodded without the slightest idea of what they discussed. “Perfectly.”

  “You do?” he asked.

  I swallowed. I gathered from his lifted brows and satisfied smirk that I had made a mistake. I considered carefully how I might retreat from the unknown agreement. “Well, that is—”

  “Will you ride in my phaeton then?” Lord Egerton cut me off. “If you enjoy competition as much as you say.”

  The butler’s knock came at precisely the right time, saving me from answering. “Lady Barrington, a Lord St. Vincent has also come to call.”

  “Goodness, two lords in one day. Send him in.” Grandmother waved an arthritic hand in the air. “I suppose I shall not be wholly deprived of company in my mourning.”

  Lord Egerton winked at me. “I shall take that as a signal, Miss Linfield, and take my leave.”

  I stood to bid farewell. Percival’s drawing room had drawn the circus from Almack’s. Could I not escape it?

  “Thank you for calling and for your thoughtful gift,” I said, motioning toward the gloves and seeds.

  He stole my hand once more, just in time for Lord St. Vincent to take notice. “I hope you will not mind my calling more frequently?”

  “Please do,” Grandmother answered for me.

  Lord Egerton glanced over his shoulder. “I do hope you prefer the seeds to picked flowers.”

  “Without a doubt, Lord Egerton,” I said, curtsying.

  I regretted the words the instant I straightened, for Lord St. Vincent stood at the front of the room, flowers in hand, and with a glare that would have put the king to shame. He paused at the doorway, rubbing shoulders with the marquess.

  In my association with other women, I had often wondered why a woman would feign a headache or sudden illness; I no longer wondered. In fact, I was sorely tempted to employ such a tactic in order to avoid Lord St. Vincent.

  However, I hardly needed to employ any tactic. Grandmother detested Lord St. Vincent from the moment she laid eyes on him. Her inquiries soon turned to reprimands, and I was left to do nothing but spin my thumbs.

  Goodness, at least one determination had been made; Lord St. Vincent would not call again. Of that, I was certain.

  Chapter 10

  “Anyone who is anybody goes to Hyde Park in the afternoon,” Grandmother said, ushering me from the carriage. Seemingly overnight, she had determined to go into half-mourning, and I suspected that choice had less to do with Percival and everything to do with London festivities. “Besides, I could use the air.”

  The sprawling acreage, broken up only by the occasional grove of trees or the picturesque Serpentine Lake, was a welcome sight. If I could not escape to Bridgestone or my own country home, Hyde Park made for a pleasant substitute.

  “Believe me, you would not wish to miss the park,” Grandmother said, scrambling out beside me. “Lord Egerton, Mr. Perry—anyone worth seeing comes.”

  I sighed, taking her hand to steady her. Her aging was made more obvious by such outings. She struggled to maintain balance on uneven ground, and the sunlight highlighted every groove of her face. “You need not convince me of the pleasures of nature. You well know I prefer the outdoors.”

  I wondered if my recent night at Almack’s had spurred her desire to parade me around the park, or if she was beginning to feel as trapped in the townhome as I already felt.

  She scoffed, all the while clinging to my arm. “You suppose I speak just to hear myself then?”

  I led her across a lawn and to the shade of the nearest tree. “I wonder at times if you do like to hear yourself speak—”

  “Ivy Estelle—”

  “But,” I said, kissing her cheek, “I rather think you are rationalizing your own outing. Perhaps your abrupt change in mourning attire is partially to blame for the anxieties you have been experiencing?”

  Grandmother audibly swallowed. Her lids lowered, knocking against the bags beneath her eyes. “Anxieties? I am not so feeble minded.”

  A breeze ran across my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. I cursed etiquette at times like this; how I longed for a shawl. Grandmother had been disgusted when I had attempted to bring one into the carriage.

  “You hardly took a sip of tea earlier,” I said, keeping my voice steady, “and you never miss your tea. I also noticed you have been rambling nonstop since we climbed into the carriage. Further, you have been fiddling with your wedding ring all the while.”

  Her eyes squeezed tighter, and she let out a low moan. Her steps slowed. “Now that I think about it, perhaps I have felt a touch uneasy.”

  I dropped her hand and crossed my arms. “Go on.”

  “I have never been one to sulk. London is a very diverting place. I long for the theatre and for walks such as this. I am old, yes, but I fear my mind will grow older still if I do not busy myself.”

  “But you…?” I nodded at her, urging her to continue.

  She shook her head. “But I cannot stand for others to think I do not miss Percival. He was the dearest of husbands. He would not wish me to stay in mourning for the entire season.”

  I cleared my throat. We had been in London just over a week. “Percival never liked to see you under any distress. His entire life seemed to be set on making you happy.”

  “Quite right. He was a dear one.”

  Linking my hand in her elbow, I led her into the sun. My neck and arms had turned to gooseflesh. If I were to meet anyone in the park, I was quite certain I would not be able to hide my chill, no matter how indecorous Grandmother thought me. “I think you need not worry. No one can fault you for a walk in the park. Besides, you have a granddaughter that is in need of a chaperone. Aunt Adriana would have detested promenading about and conversing with the ton.”

  I had yet to see my father’s sister.

  “True,” Grandmother said, pulling back her shoulders. Her anxiety seemed to dissipate as quickly as it came. “What kind of grandmother would I be if I were to leave all responsibility to Adriana or Lady Sefton? They cannot advocate for you as I do.”

  I squinted. Across the grove, stood a clump of people—the tallest of which seemed to have hair the color of flames. “Does Henry walk in Hyde Park? I would have thought him one to ride.”

  “How should I know what Henry does? He is the master of himself. I doubt he would take orders from me, even if I were to offer him the courtesy. A bachelor makes for a difficult pupil.” Grandmother rubbed her gloved hand against my forearm. “You should have ordered a carriage dress with long sleeves.”

  “I cannot bear being too warm, Grandmother. I thought to take my chances and purchase this lovely lilac one. Chilly days such as today are not the majority,” I said, hoping she did not detect how little I cared to discuss my choice of fashion. What was next? Would she wish to speak of my bonnet’s trimmings? Or, perhaps she would like to see me stand by a tree since that notion had been important enough—or ridiculous enough—to include in her list.

  I followed the flaming-hair figure with my eyes. Was Henry an irredeemable bachelor? I recalled his cutting response when I had suggested he must marry, but I had only thought him obstinate.

  “I must order you another carriage dress. You cannot always be of your father’s mind, sparing expense, especially when it pertains to your first season. Goodness, you are exactly right—you need my guidance.”

  Henry’s features came into focus; he was headed straight toward us. My pulse raced. “If another carriage dress is necessary, I shall purchase it myself. My father has allotted me more than a fair portion of pin money.”

  She tsked.

  Henry stopped a few yards away and tipped his beaver hat. He wore tan trousers with hessians and a dark green coat that complemented his olive skin. He was even more handsome than usual. “Lady Barrington, Ivy, I am glad to see you both.”

>   “Yes, well I am glad to see you still socialize. Last I heard, you had become quite the hermit.” Grandmother raised her chin.

  “Not at all,” I said, patting her hand. “Why, he was at Almack’s on Wednesday, and Lady Sefton assures me she has secured him a voucher for the entire season.”

  Grandmother placed a hand against her neck. “Is that so? Henry at Almack’s? I have not heard of him stepping foot in the establishment for at least two years. Lady Sefton sent him vouchers two years in a row, which he rejected. Can you imagine rejecting Lady Sefton? I wonder he received an invitation again.”

  “Oh?” I sent Henry a questioning glance. “Is that true?”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps, but my social habits are not as important as what I have come to discuss with you, Ivy. May I walk with you both?”

  Curiosity pricked at me. “I will not object. Grandmother?”

  She lifted a hand, shading her eyes and squinting into the distance. “Is that Lady Sefton?”

  “Yes,” Henry said, following her line of sight. “I just spoke with her. In fact, she extended a dinner invitation to me for next Tuesday. She assured me you had been sent invitations as well.”

  “I must speak with her.” Grandmother took one step before turning back to Henry. “Carry on. I will not go far. Even if I wished it, my feet cannot carry me farther than Lady Sefton.”

  I wanted to protest and make Grandmother stay. Being alone with Henry did not sit well with me. In truth, being alone with any man alarmed me, but Henry’s presence raised my anxieties an exorbitant amount.

  I rubbed my gloved hands over my arms. At times, I envied men. Their clothing served practicality and comfort. Henry’s waist coat and overcoat seemed to taunt me. Men did not know the confines of a stay nor the layers upon layers of chemises and petticoats and the painstaking detail required in every-day appearance. Men did not suffer such confines nor such strange rules. I still cursed my bare arms, and the shawl I’d left with the butler due to Grandmother’s—and society’s—rule. Perhaps a long-sleeved carriage dress was in order. The expense was beginning to seem a necessity.