He stared at her in disbelief. Was the woman losing her mind? But no, she appeared in full possession of her faculties. In fact, she appeared much saner than he did in that moment, seemed to find him absolutely hilarious, in fact. Brows drawing down in warning, he demanded, “If Lenora is not here, yet still on the Isle, where is she?”
Lady Tesh pursed her lips, her eyebrows rising in a considering arch. “She was devastated when you left, you know. She did not voice it, but Margery and I saw it all the same.”
Nothing could have destroyed him more. Nor given him more hope. For if she had been hurt by his abrupt leaving, it meant her heart was engaged.
Perhaps, just perhaps, she loved him as desperately as he loved her. Though he had been a complete arse and deserved her disgust until the end of time.
He shifted forward in his chair. “Please,” he begged, something he had never allowed himself to do, “I will do anything to win her back.”
A spark flared in her sharp gaze. “Anything?”
The old woman looked almost feral. But Peter didn’t care what she was plotting in that disturbingly agile mind of hers. “Yes,” he answered without hesitation.
She studied him for a long moment, as if taking his measure. In the end, she nodded. “She will attend the subscription ball this evening.”
“I’ll be there.” He stood and strode for the door, his mind already whirling with the possible outcomes, fear and hope warring for dominance in his chest. Lady Tesh had asked if he would do anything to win Lenora. In a heartbeat. He would walk through fire, would face a dragon.
Would don that ridiculous formal suit every day for the rest of his life.
But how to prove it to her?
He stilled, his hand on the latch. How indeed. Storming the assembly hall and glowering in the corner, as he had on his last two visits, would not be enough. He had to show Lenora just how committed he was to loving her the rest of his days. No matter what.
“Peter, you have not changed your mind, have you?”
His grip on the latch tightened, determination roaring through him. “Not in the least, madam.” He turned to face her. “The ball is not for several hours.”
Again that white brow arched up her forehead. “Correct.”
He grinned. “You’ve called me a gentleman before. What say we make that official?”
***
Lenora frowned, peering up at the ochre stone façade of the assembly hall as their carriage slowly made its way down the long line of equipages. “I told you, Margery,” she grumbled, tugging her glove smooth, “there’s still too much to do at the dower cottage for me to even consider attending a ball.”
“Nonsense,” Margery declared with a bracing smile. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone day and night to make the cottage habitable. Between that and your painting, you’ve not had a moment to relax.”
I hardly call a ball relaxing, she nearly said. At the last moment, the words stuck in her throat. The echo of Peter was in them, and she would not allow herself to think of him. Not now. Those painful moments were relegated to the quiet dark of her bedroom, her tears kept private from all but the pillow beneath her head as she tried unsuccessfully to find peace in slumber.
Not that her life was all heartache. Her determination to carve out this new and wholly unchartered path in her life had seen to that. The dower cottage had been unused for years, and while it was in fairly good repair, it still needed hard work to bring it back to the glory it had been. Between the physical labor of painting and dusting and polishing, and the very emotional labor of her art, she had found a purpose she’d never thought to have. And it had surprised her that, though her father had disowned her, though Peter had left, she was able to claim a contentment and satisfaction in this new life of hers.
But there was still much to do. Which was why this ill-timed trip to the subscription ball rankled so.
Margery laid her hand over Lenora’s, dragging her attention back to the present. “I’m happy you’ve come tonight,” she said softly. “I’ve missed you, dearest.”
The quiet words struck her mute. While it was true the last week had seen them much in each other’s company, Margery insisting on helping where she could in the start of Lenora’s new life, there had been no time for sitting quietly together as they used to do. Lenora realized in that moment how much she had missed her friend, missed their walks and easy affection, missed the way she felt grounded after time in her presence. And as she looked into Margery’s gentle brown eyes, she recognized an answering need for reconnection.
Lenora slumped in her seat, her heart twisting. “I’ve missed you, too,” she said, sandwiching Margery’s hand between her own. “And you were right, I need this.Weneed this.”
The carriage rocked to a halt, the door opening to reveal a bewigged footman. The two women descended to the pavement, linking arms as they entered the assembly hall. From the echoing strains of music that drifted out to them, to the gentle roar of laughter and conversation that made the dances on the Isle so much more palatable than those stiff, starched affairs she had grown accustomed to in London, it sounded as if the ball was already in full swing.
Lenora eyed the crush of people as she and Margery worked their way through the portico and toward the wide double doorways leading into the ball. “Has Gran arrived yet, do you think?”
“Oh, you know Gran,” Margery said, pressing closer to Lenora as she sidestepped a group of young women loitering near the entrance. “She will have wanted to be first in the door. No doubt she’s been watching for us this past half hour or better.”
Lenora let loose a small sigh. “The blame for our tardiness is mine. I’ve been so anxious to have everything just right, I have not given her the attention she deserves. I do hope she can forgive me for being so distracted these past days.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Margery murmured, a smile in her voice as they made their way into the long ballroom. “I do believe she would forgive you for anything tonight.”
