He would undoubtedly be wise not to put the matter to the test.
Chapter 15
HANNAH’S GUESTS were to be with her for three full days. She had deliberately not overorganized the activities for those days. Everyone, after all, had come from London, where the Season was in full swing and entertainments abounded. Everyone, she felt, would enjoy simply relaxing for a few days in quiet rural surroundings.
Nevertheless, some activities had been arranged for the first day—a morning walk into the village for those who wanted to see the church and get some exercise, a leisurely afternoon picnic down at the lake, an evening of cards with a few neighbors and music provided by various members of their own group. They were fortunate that the weather remained fine and warm.
It had been a successful day, Hannah felt when it was over and the last neighbors had been waved on their way. Sir Bradley Bentley, her friend and frequent escort during her marriage—his grandfather had been the duke’s friend—had flirted all day with Marianne Astley, and Julianna Bentley had spent much of her time in company with Lawrence Astley. Just as Hannah had hoped. Not that she had tried to play matchmaker, but she had wanted to invite Sir Bradley after she and Barbara had had tea with him one morning on Bond Street, and he had a sister who had made her come-out last year but still had no steady beau. And her close friend was Marianne Astley, who had a brother in his middle twenties.
Her house party needed some young people, Hannah had decided. Young, unattached adults, that was. And so she had invited all four of them.
All her other guests seemed comfortable with one another, though some of them had been strangers to one another at the start. There were the Parks, the Newcombes, Mr. and Mrs. Finch, who had been the duke’s neighbors all their lives and all their parents’ lives before them, and the aforementioned young people. And Barbara, of course. And Constantine himself and his cousins and their spouses. And ten children and babies.
The third day was designated for the children’s party in the afternoon and would be fairly busy as a consequence, but the second day was left free for whatever the guests wished to do. During the morning Hannah strolled through the flower beds to the east and north of the house with Mrs. Finch, the Countess of Merton, and a rather pale-looking Lady Montford. When Hannah, rather alarmed, inquired into her health, she laughed rather ruefully.
“It is nothing to concern you, Your Grace,” she said. “It is not
“Oh,” Hannah said, and was assaulted by a great wave of envy.
“We intended to have another within two years of Hal,” Lady Montford said. “But the powers that be had other ideas. I am glad they have relented at last.”
“You must be my age or even younger,” Hannah said. “Yet you lament having to wait so long for your
And she had, she realized in some dismay, spoken aloud.
Mrs. Finch was bent over a rosebud, holding it cupped gently in both hands. Lady Merton and Lady Montford turned to look at Hannah, both with the same expression of … compassion?
“I am thirty,” Hannah added, and then felt even more foolish.
“I was twenty-eight when I married Stephen last year,” the countess said as Lady Montford linked an arm through Hannah’s—startling her considerably. “I was a widow too, Your Grace. And I was childless, with four dead babies to mourn. I will forever mourn them, but I have Jonathan now, and we hope to fill our nursery to overflowing before I am forty. There is always hope even in the darkest moments of despair when we can come dangerously close to losing it.”
Mrs. Finch straightened up.
“I was seventeen when I married,” she said, “and eighteen when I had Michael. Thomas came two years later, Valerie two years after that. I am only twenty-seven now. I love my children dearly, and my husband too, but sometimes I have wicked thoughts about having lost my youth too soon. Perhaps there is no easy road through life. We must each walk our own and make the best of it.”
“Wise words indeed,” Lady Montford said, patting Hannah’s arm.
They strolled onward, enjoying the sight and smell of the flowers, taking a whole hour over it though the gardens were not large.
And Hannah felt … Oh, how did she feel? Blessed? She had been drawn into a group of ladies to chat about the pains and joys of marriage and motherhood and the passing of time. It had been a very brief chat, but she had felt included. In all the years of her married life, she thought, she had been part of society, always in the very midst of large groups of admirers, mostly gentlemen. She could not remember another time, though, when she had strolled in a flower garden arm-in-arm with any woman but Barbara.
And two of these ladies had refused her initial invitation.
“Mmm,” Lady Merton said, breathing in deeply just before they went back inside the house, “this is perfect. I cannot imagine a better way to spend a few days between one grand ball and another.”
“Are you feeling any better?” Hannah asked Lady Montford.
“I am,” she said. “It struck me when we first came outside that perhaps it was foolish to walk among flowers and breathe in their scent. But the air has done me good. I will be perfectly fine for the rest of the day— until tomorrow morning. It is all in a good cause, though. And soon the morning nausea should be over.”
Lady Sheringford was coming downstairs as they stepped inside.
“I have been putting Alex down for a nap,” she explained. “He fell over and scraped his knee and was feeling mightily sorry for himself. The wound has been cleansed and kissed better, his tears have been dried and kissed away, and he is fast asleep. You have a little more color in your cheeks, Kate. Are you feeling better?”
“I am,” Lady Montford said. “Her grace has been showing us the flower beds, and I am quite restored.”
Lady Sheringford’s eyes moved to Hannah, who was thinking how lovely it must be to kiss scraped knees and tear-wet cheeks.
“You really ought to wear colors more often,” she said. “Not that you do not look quite stunning in white. But you look more … Hmm, what is the word?”
“Approachable?” Mrs. Finch suggested, not perhaps with the greatest of tact. “It is what
“Well,” Lady Sheringford said. “You look more
“We came inside for coffee,” Hannah said, smiling. “Will you join us?”
She was feeling happy, she realized. She had never had women friends, except Barbara, who was usually far away. She had never thought she wanted or needed any. Today she could live with the illusion that these ladies were her friends.
CLOUDS MOVED OVER late in the morning, and a sudden chill wind drove everyone indoors sooner than they might otherwise have come. A sharp shower kept them indoors after luncheon, but no one seemed unduly unhappy about it. The youngest children were taken to the nursery for a sleep, while most of the others went off to the gallery to play some game devised by Mr. Newcombe and the Earl of Sheringford.
A few of the adults sat in the drawing room conversing or in the library reading or writing letters. One or two had disappeared entirely, probably for a rest in their own rooms, Hannah guessed. The largest group was in the billiard room. That was where Hannah went in search of Constantine.
He was not playing. He was standing just inside the door, his arms folded across his chest, watching.
“It is a pity,” she said, “that I have only the one billiard table.”
“You must not fret about that, Your Grace,” Mr. Park said. “I am a far better billiard player when I watch someone else than when I play myself. I never miss a shot, in fact, and all are perfectly brilliant.”
There was general laughter.
