“Are the servants aware of what is happening this week?”
Sinclair brought the cups to the table. “My lady, they are as enthralled as if it were a play by Mr. Sheridan.”
Elspeth laughed, which sent a sense of relief through her, some of her tension easing. “Did any of them come to the Serpentine this morning?”
Sinclair took a bit of her sandwich, pausing before she answered. “Most could not get away. But two or three were allowed to skip their morning’s chores. I will also give a full report when we return.”
“I supposed you must give to get.”
“Oh, yes. I have already heard that Lord Timothy’s brother gave him a right set down about going under the water as he did. Apparently, you are not the only one who felt a sense of panic. I am sure I will hear more later.”
Elspeth set her plate on the table, the sandwich half-eaten and the scone missing to a small section. “I cannot eat. I suspect I am just too tired. I had no idea this would make me so weary.”
“You are weary because you are not eating.”
Elspeth sagged against the back of the chair. “Perhaps.”
Sinclair glanced at the clock on the mantel. “It is almost time, my lady. At least try to drink more of your tea.” She rose, gathered the plates, and returned them to the refreshment table. She picked up her own tea and studied Elspeth a moment. “My lady, I hate to sound like your mother, but maybe the men should not see you looking so tired.”
Elspeth gave her a wan smile. “And perhaps it would reassure them that this is not easy on any of us.”
Sinclair nodded, then set her tea on the gaming table and pulled one of the chairs out to face the room. “You are doing the right thing, my lady.”
Elspeth was not completely convinced, but said, “In for a penny, in for a pound.”
They sat in silence a few moments before the knock sounded on the door. “Enter,” Elspeth called, sitting up and perching on the edge of the chair.
Both men entered with a vase of flowers in their arms. The room shone with the brilliant colors, and Elspeth promised herself a visit to Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s garden before when this ordeal was over. They bowed as they approached, then set the wide-mouth vases on the table before her.
The contrast could not have been more dramatic.
Robert Livingstone presented a positively beautiful array of flowers. which held an exquisite cluster of daffodils and tulips near the center, with hyacinths and bluebells dotted throughout. Behind the main spray, two short branches of a blooming cherry tree. The colors livened the room. Truly an arrangement meant to melt the heart.
The flowers in Lord Timothy Rydell’s vase seemed almost dull and lifeless in comparison. Only the blue-and-purple shades of the bluebells and periwinkle broke up the evenly dispersed white and yellow hues of the smaller primrose, lesser celandine, and wood anemone blossoms.
It was as if Mr. Livingstone had visited one of England’s grandest hothouses, whereas Lord Timothy had taken a stroll through a spring woodland.
Lord Timothy’s eyes narrowed as he looked from one vase to the other. “I-I do not understand.”
Livingstone let out a long exhale. “I am afraid that I do. May we sit, Lady Elspeth.”
She gestured to the other chairs. “Of course.” As they did, she spoke, keeping her tone as even and gentle as she could make it. “Tell me what you see, Mr. Livingstone.”
“I see a man trying to make an impression versus a man who followed instructions.”
Lord Timothy’s mouth became a thin line.
Elspeth nodded. “Explain what you mean, if you please.”
Livingstone sat straighter, as if trying to recover his dignity. “You are a remarkable woman, Lady Elspeth. Any man should be proud to call you wife. But what you seek in a husband is difficult. You are asking things few men could offer or achieve. But I wanted to be worthy of you.
“When I saw that list, I knew none of those names. Not even a hint. And I knew there was no time to ask for help or research them. So I focused on preparing the most spectacular arrangement I could envision, hoping you would be swayed. I prayed the Lord Timothy would be in the same predicament, coming to the same conclusion.”
He looked at Lord Timothy’s vase. “But I see now that these flowers must be the ones on the list, the ones chosen for the competition. Only that could explain his choices. And it makes sense. You, Lady Elspeth, are not a garden-tended bloom. You are a woodland wildflower. And I do not believe we would ever suit each other. Now, if you will excuse me”—he stood and bowed to them both—“I will concede and inform Mrs. Dove-Lyon. Congratulations, Lord Timothy.”
With that he left the room, pulling the door closed.
Silence reigned for several long minutes as they both studied the flowers. Lord Timothy scrubbed and hand over his mouth, then shookhis head. “I-I-I only knew three. But there is worktable in the garden, and a botany book lay on top. And Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s gardener was standing right there beside it.”
