Marjorie Farrel (27 page)

“Perhaps your footman would like to come into the kitchen for some tea? I shall settle him in and come right back to pour.”

“Thank you, Hannah, that is very kind of you,” Simon replied with a smile.

The duke sat poised on the chair. He could feel himself getting chilled, for of course, he thought, they would have no fire in an unused room. He could smell the tea and carefully reached out his hands to warm them on the teapot when he heard the front door open and Judith call out, “Hannah, I’m home,” and then ask, “Why is the drawing-room door open?”

Simon heard what sounded like books dropping, as Judith looked in and saw him sitting there. “Your grace!”

“Miss Ware,” Simon said, standing up.

“What are you doing here?” Judith asked, sounding annoyed.

Simon was about to make his carefully thought-out apology when she continued, “This room is freezing. We rarely use it. I suppose Hannah thought it was more suitable for your rank than the parlor. But why you should be chilled to the bone only because you are a duke, I’m sure I don’t know. Thank God, we always keep a fire laid.”

Simon could hear Judith at the fireplace and smelled sulfur as she lit the fire. She brushed her dress off and came over to him, saying, “Let me move the chairs closer to the heat.” Simon stood up, and she had him wait until she had positioned the chairs and tea table before she led him to his seat.

The duke was enjoying himself. He was amused and touched by her immediate reaction, which in many a young lady would have been all injured dignity after the other night. Judith reacted in the moment, and her immediate concern was for his comfort.

“Let me hang up my cloak, your grace, and I will be right back to pour your tea.”

Judith’s initial reaction was giving way to a feeling of dreadful anticipation as she removed her cloak and smoothed her hair. One part of her wondered what on earth Simon wanted with her after the duchess’s party. Another part of her, of course, was thrilled to see him there and was already spinning fantasies. “ ‘Down, wantons, down,’" she told herself. “You don’t know why he is here, and you won’t find out until you go back in there.”

Judith sat down opposite Simon and poured his tea. “Would you like me to butter you a scone?”

“Yes, thank you, Miss Ware.”

Judith handed Simon a napkin, which he spread on his lap, and then she placed a small china plate on the table in front of him. He was holding his cup in his right hand, wondering, as usual, if he could carry it off without dropping too many crumbs, or, God forbid, his cup, when Judith told him the location of the scone. She watched him carefully locate it, and marveled at the way he managed. There were some crumbs on his trousers, which he was not aware of, and lulled by their quiet absorption in eating and drinking, she almost reached over to brush them off and caught herself just in time. But his closeness made her remember that feeling of intimacy in the library; she could not help wanting the right to do such homely things as brushing off crumbs.

‘That way madness lies.’ Goodness, I’m turning into Lear this afternoon,” she told herself. I cannot let myself drift this way.

Simon finished his tea and was warming up from the fire and his drink. He cleared his throat and said, “Miss Ware, I seem to have spent a large portion of our short acquaintance apologizing, but I do beg your pardon for my anger last night. I know now you were only guilty of that small deception, and I fear I was quite offensive.”

“You were, your grace,” replied Judith without thinking.

Simon was amused and relieved. An automatic “Oh, no, your grace” would only have made him feel worse.

Judith continued, “What hurt the most was that it seemed that you let one lie make you doubt what you came to know of me in all those weeks.”

“I was very angry.”

“I know, and I accept your apology. I offer you one for finding it necessary to deceive you. Perhaps you would have hired me anyway, but we all feared not.”

“No, you were right, I wouldn’t have let anyone in the door who knew me even slightly. But what I have also come to ask is if you would be willing to resume our friendship? You were right to refuse my offer of marriage, I see that now. But I hoped we could put that behind us. Perhaps we could go driving or riding together. If you are not embarrassed to be seen with me on a lead line, that is.”

Judith’s heart lifted and then fell, in the same moment. He does care, she thought, but only as a friend. Could she stand seeing him, knowing he would be looking for a more passionate attachment elsewhere? She would never know if she had a chance, however, unless she accepted.

“I would enjoy driving or riding with you, your grace,” she answered quietly.

“You speak rather unenthusiastically,” said Simon. “Forgive me for being so blunt, but I do not wish you to feel obligated in any way.”

“Oh, no,” Judith said. “I have missed our conversations and welcome the opportunity to renew our friendship. I am just a bit tired right now.”

“Of course. And I have stayed far too long,” he said, feeling for the table and putting his cup down carefully. He stood up, and at that moment Hannah returned, having timed it so they had had some time to be alone, but so that Judith had not been unchaperoned for too long.

“You are leaving so soon, your grace? Shall I call your footman?”

“Please, Hannah.”

Judith rose and followed Simon into the hall. She watched as James helped him into his greatcoat and gave him her hand when he turned and reached for it.

“May I call to take you driving on Friday afternoon, then?”

“Yes, I would like that very much,” Judith answered, feeling his touch all through her body.

“Until Friday, then. Thank you for the excellent tea, Hannah. James?”

After the duke left, Hannah looked at Judith questioningly.

“He came to apologize, Hannah, and as you heard, to invite me to go driving with him.”

“He is an impressive young man, Judith. Quite confident, despite his blindness.”

“Yes, it is wonderful to see how he handles himself. And he is very natural about asking for help. I think that it is that realness, if there is such a word, that I care about the most. One feels that he is ultimately trustworthy.”

“A quality you both have in common, then, my dear.”

“Thank you, Hannah ... Oh, Hannah, I am so happy that he has called—and so miserable!” Judith laughed through her tears.

Hannah nodded. “He did not offer for you right this afternoon then,” she teased.

“Oh, I know I am being ridiculous. But he seems only to want the old friendship back. So do I, but now I want more.”

“Do not write an ending at the beginning, Judith. Right now, he wants to be with you, that is clear, or he would never have called. Give it some time. Now, I must get back to the kitchen, and you may calm yourself by clearing the dishes out of the small parlor!”

The next morning dragged by for Judith. She was working on a still life of several pieces of fruit, a teapot, and half a loaf of bread. She would work for a while, then go off into a dream where Simon put his arm around her and drew her to him and kissed her ... and she would find herself absent-mindedly picking at the loaf of bread or taking a bite out of an apple, which then necessitated several changes in her composition! She and Barbara were supposed to ride early in the afternoon, and Judith was looking forward to telling her all about Simon’s visit.

It had started to snow by lunchtime, a fine dry snow. It was cold enough to accumulate a few inches, and Judith wondered if Barbara would cancel their ride. But no footman arrived with a note, and at two o’clock she heard the clatter of hooves and looked out to see Barbara waiting, with Judith’s mount being led by the Stanleys’ groom.

Hannah thought the two women foolish to be out in such weather, but had to agree with Judith that in the country one wouldn’t have thought twice about it. “It is only a snowfall, and not a storm, Hannah. It just seems like more because we are in the city. I am sure we will not stay long.”

Neither Judith nor Barbara spoke much until they got to the park. The streets were slushy and slippery, and they were concentrating on the horses, who were ready to play, thought Judith as she held hers in. Their winter coats held the snowflakes, and they looked more like wild ponies than prime Thoroughbreds. There was a great head-tossing and bridle-jingling until they were able to let them out into a canter. Being out in such weather made Judith feel a little girl again, playing in the snow, galloping around and shaking the snow off her hair as if she were one of the horses.

When they slowed to a walk, Judith was feeling wonderful: warmed up and relaxed. She could see Barbara had enjoyed it as much as she had.

“I am glad we came. I was afraid you might not want to be out in such weather.”

Barbara smiled at her. “Oh, no, I love it too. And as I suspected, we almost have the park to ourselves. We can pretend we’re back in Sussex.”

“When are you returning to Ashurst?” Judith asked.

“Next Sunday,” answered Barbara. “I am surprised at how quickly it has come upon us. I only wish I could convince you to join us, Judith.”

“I would love to, but this will be our first holiday in our new home, and I think it important to stay in London. Will Dev be home for Christmas also?”

“I don’t know. And, do you know, Judith, for the first time in years, I don’t think I care.”

Judith looked at her in surprise.

“I know, I should be hopeful, now that Diana and Robin have reached an understanding, but it is finally clear to me that he will never feel anything for me but a brotherly affection. I could go on hoping forever that he may change, but I cannot live like that for another five years of my life. I feel rather empty; not brokenhearted, as I thought I must be, but disoriented. It is as though I were a compass needle gone loose after being pointed in the same direction for so long. It is clear to me now that my love for Dev allowed me to be in love and have my music at the same time. I must have known there was no danger of him ever sweeping me off my feet and distracting me from my art.”

“I have always thought ... But now is perhaps not the time to say it.”

“No, pray continue.”

“I think you are too strong for the viscount. I could understand his infatuation with a woman like Diana, but I doubt he would ever turn to you in any romantic way. He needs someone to protect.”

“I know you are right. I have probably always known it. Well, I suppose that I will feel lost for a while, but I cannot like it. Now, tell me about Simon.”

Judith blushed. “He called yesterday to apologize. He seems to want to renew our friendship. But I don’t think it is any more than that. I am not sure what kind of heartache I am letting myself in for.”

“Better heartache than nothing,” advised Barbara. “I am sure it will all come right between you. You are clearly made for one another. Come, we’d better turn back before we get lost in the park!”

The snow was still coming down steadily, and the return to the Wares’ was slow going, but Judith thanked Barbara for persevering despite the weather, for the exercise had been wonderful.

“Will you come in for a cup of tea?”

“Not today, thank you, Judith. Shall I see you tomorrow?”

“Only if it be in the morning. My engagement with Simon is in the afternoon.”

Barbara smiled. “ ‘Oh, wonderful, wonderful ... and after that, beyond all whooping.'”

“I think your enthusiasm is a bit premature, my friend,” said Judith, trying to subdue the feelings of hope that rose with her friend’s response. “I told you, it is more than likely he still only sees me as a friend. The more appropriate quote would be ‘How full of briars is this working-day world.'"

“You have had more than your share of the briars, Judith. I think that you will be seeing some roses. You deserve them.”

* * * *

The next day was bright, dry, and cold. The snow had left a thick frosting on the ground and roofs. Later that day, of course, it would melt, and the soot and traffic would ruin the pristine whiteness. The streets were always filthy, though, and Wiggins had arrived at Simon’s cold and wet. They were back to reading political speeches and commentaries, and Wiggins was sorry to leave the world of fiction.

Simon could not keep his mind on the reading. He was daydreaming like any schoolboy, imagining his arms around Judith, tilting her head back, kissing her full on the lips ...

“Do you want me to continue with the next speech, your grace?” Wiggins was asking this a second time, after the long silence that had followed the first speech. Usually Simon asked him to take notes, or go back to a pertinent section, but either the duke was very involved with the ideas raised, or completely distracted, thought Wiggins.

Simon grinned in his direction. “I beg your pardon. I was obviously woolgathering. As a matter of fact, we may as well stop for today. I am quite unable to fix my mind on Lord Phillips’ response to his opponent at all. Why don’t you take the rest of the morning off? I shall see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, your grace. Thank you, your grace.”

After Wiggins had gone, Simon was not sure how he was going to make it through the morning. He was not riding and was too restless to sit with Francis. He was very pleased, therefore, when the butler announced Robin.

“I hope I don’t disturb you, Simon?”

“I’m glad you’ve come, Robin. I was just about ready to jump out of my skin. Come in, sit down. Cranston, could you bring us some tea?”

“What has you blue-deviled?” Robin asked.

“I am about to begin my courtship of Miss Ware, and I must admit that I am too eager. I am looking forward to the holidays, Robin, when I will have time to woo her properly.”

Robin grinned at Simon’s nervousness. “You sound like a typical lover.”

“It’s all very well for you to say. You know you have Diana’s heart. Will you come for a drive with me this afternoon? I have promised to take Miss Ware up with me, but I am sure that she would enjoy seeing us both.” Simon thought this invitation to Robin was rather inspired. Having someone else in the carriage would make it easier for Judith to feel at ease, and make his way a bit smoother.