Her sister’s dress had given Imogen pause when it had been brought out. The pale blue gown, with its wide satin sash under her breasts and delicate embroidered white flowers, was feminine and sweet, and unlike anything Imogen had ever worn.
She stared at herself in the glass when Kate was done. She didn’t look much like herself anymore, though she admitted reluctantly that the changes wrought were positive. The blue of the gown gave an alabaster look to her skin and brought her eyes out in a startling way. Truly it was a lovely color, and Imogen knew that, had she been allowed to choose her own clothes, this fabric would have been just what she would want.
Then the thought occurred to her that perhaps Caleb would see these changes as her trying to please him. But a moment later she shook her head, straightening her shoulders and following the maid who was sent to show her down to the breakfast room. How she looked and what he thought would change nothing. At the end of this trip they would still go their separate ways. Then she could go back to her life as if nothing had changed.
Sorrow washed through her at the thought. But it was what had to be done, and so there was no point in wishing it otherwise. These two weeks would be a pleasant interlude. But when they were over she would put it behind her and soldier on, as she always did.
The breakfast room was on the ground floor, on the east side of the building. Pale yellow fabric covered the walls, and with the sun streaming in through the windows, Imogen found it to be a wonderfully cheerful space. Lady Emily was there already, seated at the rosewood table, her plate of food and the Times before her. She froze when Imogen entered, a bite of egg hanging suspended on her fork before she lowered it to her plate.
“Lady Emily, good morning,” Imogen said brightly. The girl merely nodded before pushing back from the table and heading for the door. She slid past Imogen without a word, leaving her to stare after her in confusion and dismay. Had she offended Lady Emily the day before in some way? But no, the girl had been unpleasant from the moment she had met her.
Shaking her head, Imogen went to the sideboard. It was fairly groaning with food, surely more than six people could reasonably eat. She decided on toast and coddled eggs and took a seat. Just as the footman placed a cup of chocolate before her and she was spreading honey on her bread, Caleb entered the room.
He was exceedingly handsome in his buckskin breeches and burgundy tailcoat. The color highlighted the copper tones in his hair and made his eyes appear even more pale and striking. He smiled broadly as he entered. Her spoon slipped and she smeared honey on the back of her hand.
He came directly to her. “Imogen, you look utterly ravishing this morning,” he murmured, taking up her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. His tongue darted out and slowly licked the honey from her skin. If she had been standing she was sure her knees would have gone out from under her. When he released her and moved to the sideboard, she clenched her hands in her lap to keep them from trembling.
He returned a short time later with a plate piled high with food. Though the table was a large piece of furniture, well able to hold a dozen people or better, he took the seat next to her, brushing against her leg as he did so. Feeling the need to busy herself, Imogen reached for her chocolate, gulping it down. She just kept herself from gasping as her tongue was singed by the hot liquid.
Instead of starting on his food, however, Caleb reached out, tugging at a curl that was hanging down the side of her neck. His long fingers just barely skimmed her skin as he did so, and Imogen swallowed hard.
“I like your hair in this fashion,” he murmured, his voice husky. “It is very becoming on you. You should not hide it away, you know. You have amazingly beautiful hair.”
His words were deliciously intimate. Too intimate. Imogen glanced frantically at the footman stationed nearby, relieved to see he was busy rearranging the dishes on the sideboard. She could only hope his ears were as much engaged elsewhere.
“And this gown,” he continued, and his fingers trailed feather light down the side of her neck to the sleeves of her dress. “The color compliments your eyes beautifully. I do believe it is my favorite color on you thus far.”
Imogen cleared her throat. “Thank you, my lord. It is my sister’s maid, you see. My mother sent her along with me. It was very generous of her, but I am afraid Kate is much more used to attending to Mariah. I was not at all certain about the changes she has made, but she was quite insistent, and as she knows what she is talking about in regards to fashion and the like, I felt it was not prudent to argue with her. I am much more used to seeing to my own hair, you see. And this gown is not mine, but I do like the color as well.” She knew she was babbling, but she could not seem to rein in her tongue.
“Caleb,” he cut in softly.
Her eyes flew to his in confusion. “I’m sorry?”
“We agreed to use our given names,” he reminded her.
She feared the slender bones in her hands would snap, the pressure of her fingers gripping each other was so great. “I think it best if we forgo that for now.”
“Why?”
“It might give your family the impression that we have come to an…understanding.” She flushed, eyeing her untouched plate.
He was silent for a time. “Would that be so very repugnant, Imogen?” he asked quietly.
There was no possible way to answer that truthfully without showing her feelings, so she remained silent.
“Now, let us see what Cook has to offer this morning,” he went on in a cheerful voice that was completely at odds with his previous tone. “You are in for a treat. Cook’s food is my very favorite thing about returning to Northamptonshire. She does have a habit of preparing all of my favorites when I am in residence. I believe that if I were to stay here for any length of time I would soon be as big as the house.”
He grinned at her and then dove into the mound of food on his plate with gusto. Imogen watched him in disbelief for a time before reaching for a piece of toast from her own and biting into it absentmindedly.
Her father chose that moment to join them, a book tucked under his arm. “My lord, Imogen, a fine day isn’t it?” he said happily.
He moved directly to the sideboard, filling a plate and seating himself across from them. The book came up and his head went down, and Imogen knew with wry amusement that a herd of elephants could have tromped through the room and her father would not have noticed. His presence, however, allowed her to relax a bit. There was something unnerving now about being alone with Caleb.
Which was a sad thing, really. For some of the most pleasant moments she had ever spent were times when she and Caleb had been alone, far from judgmental eyes. One night of intimacy had changed all that.
“Do you have a preference for your first day at Willowhaven?” Caleb asked, pulling her from her thoughts.
“I haven’t a clue.”
