Rebecca curtsied. “Thank you for coming, and for ... thinking of me.”
When Rebecca returned to the house, Rose asked, “Well? What did she want to talk with you about?”
Rebecca summarized their conversation.
Lady Fitzhoward nodded with satisfaction. “That bodes well.”
“Don’t read too much into it,” Rebecca cautioned her, and herself. “I don’t think Sir Frederick will be eager to spend time with me after my behavior at the hotel, not to mention John’s.” Rebecca sighed and dropped into a chair.
The sisters exchanged knowing glances.
Rose said, “I believe it is time.”
“Time for what?” Rebecca asked moodily.
“To pull your old riding habit out of storage. Is it still in that trunk in the attic?”
“I believe so, though no one has suggested riding.”
Rose turned to her, a shrewd glint in her eye. “Thenyousuggest it, my girl.”
“Would that not be terribly forward? Besides, I don’t exactly want to remind him of myself as a little girl, forever pestering him to ride.”
“I saw how he looked at you at the hotel,” Lady Fitzhoward said. “He looked at you as a man looks at a woman—an attractive woman.”
Rose nodded. “It’s obvious you care for him and he for you. Don’t you doubt it.”
“Do you think so?” Hope flared and then faded as quickly. “I don’t know....”
Lady Fitzhoward shook her head, lips compressed. “Don’t be a fool, Rebecca. Rose and I don’t agree on much, but we agree on this. Sir Frederick admires you. All he needs is a little encouragement.”
“But I—”
“Listen to me.” Lady Fitzhoward sat forward. “I have had one great love in my life with Donald. If there was even a chance I could have more time with him, I would not waste it shilly-shallying.”
Rebecca considered, biting her lip. Was it possible?
When she protested no further, Rose said eagerly, “I’ll go and fetch the habit.”
A short while later, Rose returned with the deep green riding habit, brushed, smoothed out, and sprinkled with rose water. Rebecca donned the long skirt and close-fitting jacket—closer-fitting than she recalled, but she managed to fasten the jacket buttons while Rose laced the back of the skirt.
“Is it too tight, do you think?” Rebecca fretted.
Lady Fitzhoward stepped back to survey her. “Yes, it is tight. In all the right places.”
The sisters shared wry grins, and Rebecca blushed.
“What a pity,” Rose added. “Sir Frederick might notice your figure.”
Lady Fitzhoward advised, “Take shallow breaths.”
Frederick had spent a few days at home, feeling exhausted and defeated. He hoped he had not ruined forever his relationship with Thomas, nor lost any chance he might have had with Miss Lane. Whenever she saw him, would she always think of the consequence he’d doled out to her brother?
The canal project also seemed doomed to fail before it had begun, much like his relationship with Rebecca.
The footman brought in a silver salver with two letters upon it. The first was from his solicitor, bearing the unexpected news that Lady Fitzhoward had bought a significant number of shares in the canal project. Surprise and relief flooded him. That was something, at least.
The second was from Thomas.
