It was true. He had said that, or been maneuvered into saying it. He had given up all thought of courting Lizzie with a view to marriage. Indeed, he had given up all thought of marriage to anyone—ever. But he was painfully aware that her interest had been piqued by the invitation to Thornwood and that both she and her mother were eager to bring him to the point over Christmas.
“And has anyone promised to keepyousafe?” he asked Margaret. “Is there any one special gentleman?”
“Not really,” she said after tipping her head to one side and thinking for a few moments, “though I like Mr. Frederick Cannadine exceedingly well and I believe he likes me. You cannot know how wonderful it is to meet and mingle with people of roughly my own age, both ladies and gentlemen. And to know that enjoying oneself is not prohibited. I do not want to make the mistake of fixing my interest on one single gentleman too soon, Cousin Gerard. Did you mean it when you said I am to have a Season this coming spring?”
“With all my heart,” he said. “It is a crime that you have not already had one.”
“But then I would not have it to look forward to,” she said, smiling brightly. “Perhaps it is frivolous to long so much for a Season with all its balls and other entertainments, but if it is, then I am frivolous and do not care. I want to be free when I go there, Cousin Gerard. I want my hand and my heart to be unattached. Perhaps I will bestow both eventually on Mr. Cannadine—if he is willing to bestow his on me. But I want to be quite, quite sure first.”
It had been his opinion on meeting Margaret a week and a half before that she was immature for her years. But he could see now that he had mistaken innocence and naivete for immaturity. She had a great deal of common sense, even wisdom.
“As the daughter of an earl,” he said, “you could probably snare a duke, Margaret, if there is one available.”
They both laughed.
“If he is young, handsome, wealthy, kind, and inclined to love me to distraction,” she said, “then I will grab him.” She laughed again. “Provided I love him to distraction too, of course.”
But they had arrived on the bank of the lake. The gardeners had done a superb job of sweeping the snow from a large expanse of the lake’s surface so that the ice was smooth and gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. There was a great bustling as everyone rummaged through the boxes to find skates the right size for each pair of boots.
Some of them could already skate well and took to the ice with effortless confidence. Several had tried it before and were willing to venture out on their own to slide gingerly forward, arms outstretched, legs braced apart. A few had never before had the opportunity or the courage to skate.
Frederick Cannadine, a competent, if not an accomplished skater, offered his assistance to Margaret. Andrew Campbell took both Susan Gaynor and Clara Radway out, one on each arm. Geordie Stewart took Christina’s arm firmly through his. Jeannette, laughing, not with derision but with the sheer pleasure of the occasion, took a wobbling Ralph Milchip by the hand. John and Laura Cannadine were instructing the children, he on the ice, she safely on the bank, though Rachel had gone off on her own to one end of the skating area and had quietly set about teaching herself.
The earl looked into the wide, nervous eyes of Lizzie Gaynor and smiled. “I will not let you fall,” he promised her.
But not letting her fall, he discovered over the next hour, involved holding her left hand with his left while his right arm circled her waist, held her close against his side, and supported almost the whole of her weight. She was small and shapely, his body told him, as his eyes had done before. Very feminine. She was timid and trusting and bright and laughing. Very alluring, he thought dispassionately.
“I do not know how you can possibly be so steady on your skates, my lord,” she said admiringly as they glided together across the expanse of the ice, half turning her head toward him so that her pretty profile showed to advantage framed by her fur-trimmed hood. “I know that I could trust my life to you.”
“With practice,” he said, “you would be just as steady, Miss Gaynor. There are certain techniques to successful skating, but mainly it involves a combination of balance and confidence.”
“I could never have either, I do declare,” she said. She laughed lightly. “And why should I when I have such a steady partner to lean upon?”
Milchip, he noticed, had just taken a tumble to the ice, pulling Jeannette, a surefooted skater, down with him. They were both finding the situation vastly amusing and were being teased mercilessly by Luttrell and John Cannadine, who was also offering to haul them both back to their feet. Christina still had her arm through Stewart’s and was moving slowly, but she was using the supporting arm merely for confidence. She was doing the skating herself. She was frowning slightly in concentration.
Life with Gilbert had been undiluted gloom, he thought— but of course he had suspected that even before Margaret had confirmed it. Christina had never tried to lighten the gloom. She had never laughed except when Gilbert went away, leaving her behind. He should be gloating, the earl thought. It should give him a fierce sense of satisfaction to know that she must have been unhappy. But he could only wonder that he had not realized before this morning that there must have been more behind her sudden rejection of him and acceptance of his cousin than had appeared at the time. Gilbert had never allowed her to mention his name— or her father’s. Why her father?
Rachel fell, picked herself up without a murmur, and kept on trying to skate. One day he would teach her, he thought.
Jeannette had skated ahead of Milchip, goaded by the teasing though she was still laughing. She performed a few graceful spins and then a twirling jump. She was moving at some speed too. She stopped and executed a deep curtsy in response to the applause and whistles that greeted her performance.
“Oh,” Lizzie said, “how I wish I could do that. I suppose I could if only I had the courage.”
“It is usually advisable,” he said, chuckling, “to learn to walk before one tries running. Miss Campbell grew up in Canada and is accustomed to long winters and frozen rivers and lakes. She has been skating since she was a child.”
“You are telling me that I am incapable of skating well, then, my lord?” Lizzie said, pouting prettily up at him. “I must certainly prove you wrong.”
At first it seemed that she was merely going to try to do what Christina was doing. She shifted her weight over her feet and slid her arm through his. She performed a few sensible glides, using his arm for a prop. But then she laughed gaily and released her hold altogether.
“Watch me!” she commanded him and pushed off alone, extending her arms gracefully.
Fortunately for her he had the presence of mind to increase his own pace so that he was close enough when she lost her balance to catch her before she fell all the way to the ice. But she bit her lower lip and lifted her right foot from the ice as he held her up.
“Oh!” she said.
“You have hurt yourself?” he asked in some concern. Deuce take it, he had promised not to let her fall.
He held her tightly to his side while she gingerly moved her foot and winced.
