The Old Maids' Club 02 - Pariah (21 page)

“Oh! How delightful.” Lady Rosaline turned to her niece. “Isn’t that dashing of him? I hope you have a gentleman bringing you flowers today, too, Mattie. They’re far better spent on you, you know.”

Tears pushed behind Miss Shelton’s eyes and nearly spilled over, but she forced them down seemingly from sheer willpower. Roman wanted to know who Mattie was, almost desperately since the name had brought on such a reaction from Miss Shelton, but this was not the time to ask.

The younger lady didn’t respond to her aunt’s declaration. She smiled, though it was a bit watery and shaky, and moved to stand before her aunt. “Would you like me to take care of these for you?”

“That would be delightful, my dear.” Lady Rosaline patted Miss Shelton on the back of the hand.

After the pixie walked off with the flowers, leaving Roman alone in the room with Lady Rosaline and Mrs. Temple for a moment, the lady patted the seat beside her. “Why don’t you take a seat here? I’m sure Mattie will serve the tea when she returns.”

He did as she asked. It was a rare occasion that he didn’t comply with Lady Rosaline’s requests, no matter who she thought him to be on a given day or what task she’d set for him. Lord Roman Sullivan, youngest son of the Marquess of Herringdon, former major in the Dragoons, bearer of countless dishonorable titles he’d bestowed upon himself, was well and truly wrapped around this lady’s finger and was powerless to do a damned thing about it.

All of them had him in their grips, it seemed, not just Lady Rosaline.

And the damnedest part of it all was that he didn’t mind any of it in the least.

Lewis Nichols wouldn’t recognize him if he saw him now, Roman thought with a chuckle. Then he stopped short. He hadn’t thought of Nichols in months with anything bordering on mirth. He didn’t know when the change could have taken place.

Miss Shelton returned to the parlor, and all signs of her tears were gone. She smiled at them, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Tea?” she asked, but started to pour and serve before anyone could respond. By rote memory, she placed the appropriate amount of milk and sugar in each cup and passed it along, then filled saucers with cakes and sandwiches. Finally, she took a seat again, across from Roman and Lady Rosaline.

“Thank you,” Roman mumbled just before taking a sip from his teacup.

She nodded, but took a tiny bite of her sandwich and chewed it for a long time, likely in order to avoid speaking to him.

This wasn’t going to work for him. Not for long. A week with Miss Shelton doing her best to avoid him and dousing him with hefty bouts silence had been more than enough. Somehow, some way, he was going to have to wear her down and convince her to talk to him.

For now, he determined his best course of action was to study her. He needed to know as much as he possibly could about her in order to decide how best to get her talking to him again. So while Lady Rosaline and Mrs. Temple chatted pleasantly, he ate his food, drank his tea, and watched Miss Shelton.

He studied the way she chewed, with her jaw working up and down repeatedly over tiny bites. He studied her hands, the dainty fingers rising to bring her cup to her mouth, the narrow join of her hand and arm. He memorized the tiniest details of her eyes, the golden flecks in amongst the green that shimmered when she forgot herself for a moment and laughed, the way her long lashes curled up, framing them. He drank in the sight of her long, slender neck, so very gentle and sloping.

And then he caught himself thinking about tasting her, at the hollow where her neck and collarbone met.

That wouldn’t work. He couldn’t let himself think that way.

Roman tried to force his thoughts elsewhere, but it didn’t matter in the end.

Miss Shelton set her teacup and saucer back on the tray and stood. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I need to…I need to see to…Finn.”

Her gaze rested on Roman for just a moment, and she blushed. Then she spun on her heels and was gone.

Mrs. Temple stood, too. “I suppose I should be getting back to my duties.” She gathered up all the tea implements and restacked them on the tray, then carried them from the room.

“I should like a bit of exercise,” Lady Rosaline said, after they’d sat there alone for a few moments. “Would you be so kind as to go for a walk through the gardens with me?”

Through the gardens? Good heavens, it was snowing quite heavily out there. “Are you certain you wish to go out in the weather?” Roman asked her. “We could take a few turns about the room—”

“No, I wish to go outside. A little snow never hurt anyone.”

He couldn’t really fault that logic, though allowing her to get too cold could invite any number of ailments. Still, some fresh air and exercise would be good for both of them.

With a nod, Roman stood. “I’ll go fetch our coats.”

While he was doing that, he stopped in the kitchens for a moment to let Joyce and Mrs. Temple know of their plans. Then he selected warm coats for both of them, along with scarves, gloves, and an extra blanket for Lady Rosaline.

When he returned, she smiled up at him. “I think it is a lovely day for a walk in the gardens. I’ve always loved to walk in the snow. When I was a little girl, my brother, Drake, would take me out for a walk in the snow and we wouldn’t come back for hours.”

Roman’s experiences with walking in the snow were far less pleasant as they related more to marching off to battle, so he kept them to himself as he helped her don her warm layers.

“One time,” she continued, “we went into the forest. Mother and Father didn’t know we’d gone so far. They had half the servants at Ainsworth Court out looking for us.”

He wrapped the blanket about her, pulling it snug.

“When we came back into the clearing, we were chilled to the bone but laughing hysterically…and then they came on us.” She chuckled and shook her head with a rueful smile on her lips. “Do you know, Lord Roman, that I’ve never seen a more bewildering sight than the utter relief of my mother juxtaposed against the blinding rage of my father in that moment.”

So she knew him now, did she? And she remembered her childhood. It was so odd, how she could flit in and out of her right mind in just the blink of an eye.

Roman placed a hand on her back and guided her through the narrow corridors of the cottage toward the back door. If they walked in the rose garden, they wouldn’t get too far from the house.

As the biting wind hit them, she stopped suddenly, shivering.

“Do you wish to go back inside?” he asked, fully prepared to whisk her away and forget their plans had ever been mentioned.

Lady Rosaline shook her head and grinned up at him with such sheer delight, he couldn’t imagine ever denying her anything. “Not for all the riches in the world,” she said dreamily. Then she took several short, fast steps, and he had to hurry to keep up with her.

He’d never seen her move so quickly, so freely before. Even weighed down by the coat and blanket, she almost floated along on the mounds of snow piling up in the walkways. She giggled like a schoolgirl when she lost her footing slightly and fell forward, catching herself in a thick pile.

Roman rushed to her, prepared to assist her in any way necessary, but she rolled over and sighed.

“It’s as good as I remember it.”

He stood there watching her, dumbfounded, completely at a loss as to what he should do. Indeed, apparently he stood there staring for too long.

She kicked a booted foot, sending a cascade of freshly fallen snow up to shower him. “Are you just going to stand there? Or are you going to enjoy it?”

He didn’t get the chance to answer her. The door opened behind him, and Finn leapt out to join them with his nurse trailing along behind. “Snow!” the boy cried, giggling non-stop. By the time Finn reached Roman’s side, he was waist-deep in the fluffy stuff. His red cheeks and nose couldn’t dampen the pure joy in his eyes.

“Yes, Finn,” Lady Rosaline called out. She kicked up another foot, and sent a dose of it spraying over the boy.

He giggled in delight, then fell into the deep piles on his way to join the lady. It didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. Much as she had done, he just rolled around in it until he was covered from head to toe.

Roman didn’t know what to do. He had never, in as long as he could remember, played in the snow. It seemed a shame.

Before he could change his mind, he dove, head first, to join them. They rolled around for long minutes with Mrs. Wyatt shouting out encouragement from the safety of a bench near the house. He was cold to the bone, but it didn’t matter.

“What in God’s name is going on here?” Miss Shelton demanded, in as haughty and outraged a tone as he’d ever heard from her. “You’ll catch your deaths. All of you.”

Sheepishly, Roman started to straighten himself out of the mess of snow, only to be stopped short by Lady Rosaline.

“Bethanne Shelton, I love you dearly because you’re my niece, but I have never in my life known you to be such a spoilsport.”

Miss Shelton came to a halt and stared.

“Are you going to stand there looking at me like I’m a damned leper, or are you going to join us?”

For once, it would be nice if Bethanne were prepared for Aunt Rosaline’s lucidity. Yet it always caught her unawares, and she ended up standing there, staring like a loon. This time, she was doing it in the middle of a snowstorm, for goodness’s sake. That made it even more ridiculous.

But she couldn’t just eliminate the fears that had sent her storming outside in the first place. Finn, her dear, sweet boy, could catch a chill from being outside in the cold wetness for so long. And if Aunt Rosaline were to become ill…

But Mrs. Wyatt was watching them, and they were having fun (something Jo was always so fond to point out that Bethanne neglected to do far too often), and Lord Roman was with them. Surely he wouldn’t let any harm come to them.

Not that she had any idea how he could prevent them from becoming ill. But still.

Bethanne had not yet made up her mind what to do, and Finn booted up a pile of snow onto her skirts. She feigned outrage, planting her hands on her hips and using a scolding tone. “Finn Isaac Shelton, did you just kick snow onto my skirts?”

“He did,” Aunt Rosaline said with a cackle. Then she kicked, as well, sending a much bigger pile of snow flying in Bethanne’s direction, dousing her in the stuff from top to toe. “And so did I.”

She pulled out her booted foot, prepared to thrust some back toward them, but before she could dislodge herself from the deep embankment, a huge amount of snow hit her from the side, drenching her far more than their kicks had done.

Bethanne turned with her jaw hanging slack.

Lord Roman shrugged. “That one was me.” He picked up another pile in his hands and started forming it into a ball.

“Oh, no.” She would not just sit there and take that. Bending at the waist, Bethanne shoved her gloved hands into the icy mounds and pulled up twice as much as he was forming. “You’ve just incited a war, Lord Roman.”

“Ha! Now you’ve got her into it,” Mrs. Wyatt called out. “I’d suggest you toss and run, my lord. But then, that might be a bit cowardly. Be sure you’re aim is right.”

Unbelievable. “You’re helping him?” Bethanne shouted over her shoulder.

“Never fear, Miss Shelton.” Lord Roman threw his snowball, hitting her on the arm. Half of hers fell apart from the impact. In an instant, he was forming another one. “I refuse to sound the retreat.”

The man was true to his word. Their snow battle waged for quite some time until, breathless and frozen through, Bethanne held up both hands. “I surrender. I’m done. I can take no more.”

“Thank God,” he said, falling face-first to the ground. When he looked up a moment later, he had a smile on his face. She’d rarely seen those from him. Wry smirks, yes. But this was different. He winked at her. “If we’d gone on another five minutes, I fear you would have bested me.”

Bethanne let out a harrumphing sort of sound as she plucked Finn out of the snow and carried him to Mrs. Wyatt, who was waiting with fresh blankets. Lord Roman was soon behind her, helping Aunt Rosaline inside.

Joyce and Mrs. Temple helped them to get on warm, dry clothes, and Mrs. Temple had stoked the fire in the parlor hearth to a roaring blaze while they were out. After they were changed, they all returned to warm themselves before it. Joyce brought in a tray of mugs filled with steaming chocolate.

They stayed there, the lot of them, until Finn was asleep on the floor, exhausted from his exertions. Even in his sleep, he wore a smile. That, more than anything, warmed Bethanne through.

When Mrs. Wyatt lifted him to carry him up to the nursery, Bethanne briefly met Lord Roman’s heated gaze. She looked away with a blush staining her cheeks, lest she be scalded from the intensity of his stare. What on earth did he mean by it? By any of it?

And why did she allow him to fluster her so thoroughly?

Brushing her now thawed hands over her skirts, Bethanne stood. “I should go check to be sure he is warm enough.”

She scurried through the door before he could stop her.