Romancing the Countess (16 page)
“My apologies, madam,” the butler said. “I was just escorting Lord Wriothesly out.”
She blinked, pushing her hair behind her shoulders, tucking it behind her ears. Sebastian stared, enchanted by the simple, almost childlike gesture, watching as the sleep-induced confusion cleared from her eyes and she narrowed her gaze at him.
“The guests are downstairs. Am I now to understand you don’t trust me to be alone in my bedchamber, my lord?” she asked, lifting her chin. “Or is sleeping in the middle of the day considered reckless behavior?”
“I beg your pardon, Mrs. George,” Herrod tried again from behind Sebastian. “Lord Wriothesly and I will leave you to—”
Sebastian smiled and stepped forward until he stood at the foot of the bed. “Would you believe that I was worried about you?”
She gave a little huff of disbelief. “No.” Then, as if she were suddenly aware of more than his presence, of her state of undress in the bed while he stood only a few feet away, she scowled. “Turn around.”
Sebastian made a point of studying first her unbound hair, then the lace edges of the nightgown which peeked out from the counterpane and swathed her neck and wrists. Finally, the violet-adorned bedspread which covered everything from her chest to the tips of her toes. “It’s too late,” he drawled. “I think I’ve already been compromised.”
Herrod cleared his throat at the door.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Leah exclaimed, then reached behind her and threw a pillow at Sebastian.
“I’m glad to see your strength hasn’t waned,” he said. His gaze followed the path of the pillow, which had missed by about a foot and now lay well beyond his left shoulder. He looked back at her. “I thought you might be ill.”
He could almost hear her grinding her teeth. “I’m not.”
“Are you certain? Your face appears flushed. Perhaps I should feel your forehead to see if you have a fever—”
“Herrod . . .” Though she spoke to her servant, she saved the murderous glare for Sebastian alone. He felt rather flattered.
“Yes, Mrs. George.” This time, the butler actually took hold of Sebastian’s arm.
“We shall see you soon, then?” Sebastian asked as he was steered toward the corridor.
Another pillow hit the back of his knee.
“Much better,” he called. “It’s clear you’re improving—”
Herrod shut the door and released his arm. “Does your lordship need assistance in finding the rose salon again?” he asked, the thin veneer of politeness doing nothing to conceal his displeasure.
“No, thank you. I believe I know the way.”
The butler smiled tightly and tipped his head toward the staircase. “As you wish, my lord.”
Sebastian strolled down the corridor, well aware Herrod followed him a few paces behind. As he descended the staircase, he found Mrs. Meyer, Lady Elliot, and a housemaid climbing up.
“Oh, there you are, my lord,” Mrs. Meyer said. “Did a servant see to Mrs. George? Is she well?”
He nodded solemnly. “As well as can be expected. I fear you were correct in your assumption, Mrs. Meyer. The grief . . .”
“Oh, dear.”
Lady Elliot pursed her lips.
“Well, let us return to the salon and continue preparing the
tableaux vivants
,” Sebastian suggested. “Perhaps Mrs. George will join us in a little while, and I’d like her to see how far we’ve come.”
tableaux vivants
,” Sebastian suggested. “Perhaps Mrs. George will join us in a little while, and I’d like her to see how far we’ve come.”
As one, they started down the steps again, Mrs. Meyer murmuring beneath her breath, “Poor Mrs. George. Oh, the poor dear.”
There was something about being awakened by Lord Wriothesly’s voice earlier in the afternoon that banished Leah’s exhaustion for the rest of the day, even though she’d had only a few hours of sleep. When it was time for the evening’s entertainment after dinner, she cheerfully led everyone out the front door and across the lawn.
At the crest of the hill where it evened out before descending toward the lake, the servants had arranged a surfeit of blankets and cushions upon the ground. One footman remained to the side, near an iced bucket of champagne. On the other side stood a low table on which perched the object of honor for the night: a telescope.
She’d had an opportunity to toy with it only a few times since buying it in London before the house party, and she was looking forward to searching for the constellations again, hopefully with the aid of someone who had more experience with such instruments.
Setting her lamp on the table beside the telescope, she turned to the guests. She wore no veil tonight, for it was difficult enough to see in the darkness without it before her face. Even with the backlight of the house in the distance and the lamps on either side of the blankets, the guests were little more than outlines and shadows beneath the velvet night sky.
Leah smiled and extinguished her lamp, leaving only the light from the footman on the far side. Somewhere in the middle of the group, someone squealed. Mrs. Meyer, probably; for despite Miss Pettigrew’s innocent act she seemed far too sensible, and Leah doubted Lady Elliot would cry out even if a bat winged down from the sky and brushed across her head.
Out of the dark came Lord Wriothesly’s droll voice. “Oh yes, astronomy. I had forgotten how much Ian liked to gaze upon the stars.”
Unperturbed, Leah replied, “It was by far one of his favorite hobbies.” Tilting her head up, she twirled in a slow circle. “I remember the many times we would come out here and lie on the grass for hours. Ian would name each constellation, one by one, and recite the myths lest I forget the beauty behind the science.”
It was something she dreamed of doing now, though the man beside her in her imagination was nameless, his face made invisible by the night. At times she wondered whether there would ever be someone else; after Ian, she found it difficult to believe she could find enough faith to bestow upon another man.
“Mr. Dunlop, Mrs. Thompson,” she said. “Would you like to be the first to take a turn at the telescope?”
Soon everyone else had spread out on the ground, some with glasses of champagne in their hands. The dark shapes of Mr. Dunlop’s and Mrs. Thompson’s heads bent over the telescope.
Leah curled her legs beneath her skirts and leaned back against a cushion. Apart from the flower garden, this was one of the loveliest places at Linley Park in the evening. On the crest of the hill, one could look out over the lake and see the moon and stars reflected on its silvered surface. And while the smoke and fog clouded the sky in London, out here the air was so piercingly clear that it ached in one’s lungs and made it possible to believe that every single star was visible to the naked eye, with no need for a man-made instrument.
Nearby, she could hear Lord and Lady Elliot debating good-naturedly the name of the constellation formed by a cluster of stars which hung like a brilliant white sapphire over the lake. Leah took a sip of her champagne and sighed quietly.
This was what she’d wanted. This was the reason why she’d decided to host the house party. Shared pleasure in the things that made her happy; company to ease her loneliness without intruding upon any other emotion. The simplicity of amusement for amusement’s sake, and the freedom to choose who she would be in the future while yet still clothed in the black regrets and memories of her dead husband.
After a while Mr. Dunlop and Mrs. Thompson sat down, and Baron Cooper-Giles and Miss Pettigrew moved to the telescope.
A large shape sat down beside her. Now that her eyes were accustomed to the darkness, she could see it was Lord Wriothesly.
“I’m glad to see you’re feeling better,” he said, moving a cushion so he could recline and stretch out his legs. Lowering his voice, he added, “Although next time I would advise you to lock your door.”
Leah gave him a mocking smile. “What an excellent idea. However, I assure you that if I had any reason to believe someone would enter uninvited, it would have been locked.”
He nodded and looked up at the sky, giving her the impression that he wasn’t quite paying attention to her. “I think this is the best idea so far,” he said. “When I was a boy, my father would take me out into the garden and have me point out the constellations. He wanted to make sure I was attending to my lessons.”
A moment passed, and then he chuckled. “Of course, each time I would have to recite them in different languages. Latin, French, Italian. I was a very well-rounded little astronomer.”
Leah looked at him. “I’m sure you—”
She entirely forgot the words she’d meant to say. The lamplight at the side cast a golden glow over his features, and though she shouldn’t have found him appealing, the wistful expression on his face as he stared up at the sky made her breath catch in her throat. Then it seemed only natural for her gaze to trace over the line of his jaw and down his neck, over the long, lean planes of his torso.
“This is actually something Ian would have enjoyed, you know,” he said, and Leah looked upward just as he turned toward her with a crook of his lips.
She shifted away, darting a glance toward Miss Pettigrew and the baron. “Yes, I know. That’s precisely why I chose to do it.”
“Hmm.” The sound was partial consideration, partial disbelief.
Leah sat up. Even having moved a few inches away from him, their positions beside each other on the cushions was too close, too . . . disconcerting. She waited a few more moments, and although he didn’t say anything else, it was still too much.
She stood and went to the telescope, leaving the earl behind without a word.
Lord Cooper-Giles was adjusting the eyepieces. “There, have another try.”
Miss Pettigrew bent over, peering through the lens. “Oh, there it is. I can see Orion now.” Glancing up, she spied Leah. “Here, Mrs. George, you should look, too. Quickly, lest I lose the angle.”
Leah stepped forward as Miss Pettigrew moved aside. “Thank you,” she murmured absently, then stooped to look through the telescope. “Oh, yes, I see it,” she said. In truth, her eyes refused to focus on any pattern. Even though she had no reason to believe he was staring at her, still she imagined Wriothesly watching every movement she made. She swung the scope in an arc, searching for any likely shape or form which she could name as a constellation. But as the minutes lapsed and the scope moved in every direction the mount would allow, her mind refused to make sense of the images she saw. All she was aware of was the presence of Wriothesly nearby, and the thought that he might or might not be presently looking at her. Silently cursing, Leah straightened and gestured for Miss Pettigrew to take the telescope.
Once again, the Earl of Wriothesly had managed to ruin one of her most-treasured amusements.
Sebastian sat in a chair before the hearth in his bedchamber. The constellation viewing had ended a few hours ago, and he should have been asleep in his bed like everyone else.
And he had tried. He’d undressed and climbed beneath the sheets. He had even closed his eyes and measured his breathing until it reached a slow, even pace. But nothing could induce him to fall asleep when images of Leah continued teasing his mind.
The fact that she’d nearly all but run away from him during the evening’s entertainment should have set him at ease. If nothing else, it told him that she neither wanted nor welcomed his friendship, nor anything else beyond a polite acquaintance. But though he should have been content with her reaction and allowed it to distract his own wayward attraction to her, he found he wanted nothing more than to pursue.
He wanted to investigate her vulnerabilities, to understand the mystery of Leah George that kept him fascinated when by all rights he should dismiss her as nothing more than a source of aggravation. He wanted to get close enough to see through every layer, then satisfy his curiosity and walk away.
He shouldn’t be sitting here, dwelling on the sweet curve of her mouth. And his attraction to her shouldn’t make him question whether the woman he’d loved for more than three years had only been a beautiful facade that he’d invented to match his own desires.
The chair toppled over as Sebastian stood. Scrubbing his hands over his face and then into his hair, he strode from one side of the room to the other.
He’d loved
Angela
, not some caricatured ideal his imagination had conjured. He knew it with every breath he breathed, every beat of his heart, with all the certainty of his own existence. He had loved her, and if he had known about the affair, he would have done everything he could to make Angela choose him. If he’d known, he would have won her back, no matter the cost, and she wouldn’t now be dead. Nor Ian, either. And he, Angela, and Henry would be together again, with Ian and Leah somewhere hundreds of miles away.
Angela
, not some caricatured ideal his imagination had conjured. He knew it with every breath he breathed, every beat of his heart, with all the certainty of his own existence. He had loved her, and if he had known about the affair, he would have done everything he could to make Angela choose him. If he’d known, he would have won her back, no matter the cost, and she wouldn’t now be dead. Nor Ian, either. And he, Angela, and Henry would be together again, with Ian and Leah somewhere hundreds of miles away.
Sebastian swung around, sweat beginning to bead on his brow from the humidity of the summer evening. Moving toward the window, he braced his forehead against the pane, but it was hardly cooler than the bedchamber. With a low curse, he found the lock on the window and started to push it open, when a sight below in the flower garden arrested his attention.
Leah, sitting on a bench, the telescope perched beside her on a low table. The moon and the starlight limned her features as her head lay tilted back, the hood of her cloak open to reveal the sweep of her unbound hair.
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