“Well, bother,” Jessica said.
“I daresay I could accompany the young people,” Charles said, causing all eyes to turn his way—including Matilda’s, though she had been trying to ignore him, having been considerably discomposed by that strange conversation of theirs. Heavens, did he seriously believe the Westcott family, not to mention Mrs. Rigg, would consider him a suitable chaperon for a group of six that included three young ladies, none of whom was related to him? But he was not finished.
“Provided there is a lady who is prepared to come as cochaperon, of course,” he said.
“But if I go, as it seems I must,” Louise said, “you may save yourself the trouble, Lord Dirkson. I—”
“I suppose I could—” Viola began at the same time.
Charles cut them both off.
“Perhaps Lady Matilda Westcott?” he suggested, turning his eyes fully upon her. “If the dowager countess can spare her for a few hours, that is.”
What?What?
“Me?”Matilda said foolishly, spreading a hand over her bosom while she felt all eyes turn her way. Though she was really aware only of his eyes and of the disturbing feeling that she might well swoon. Yet she gave no thought to the smelling salts in her reticule.
“Oh yes, do come, Aunt Matilda,” Jessica cried, turning eagerly toward her. “It is really rather dreary to be on an outing with one’s own mama as chaperon.” She laughed and looked fondly at Louise. “No offense intended, Mama. I am sure you felt exactly the same way when you were my age.”
“Oh yes, please do come, Aunt,” added Bertrand, who had informed her a few weeks ago that she was a great gun after she had ridden in his sporting curricle all the way to Charles’s house without clinging or squawking in alarm. It had actually been one of the most exhilarating experiences of her life. She only wished he could have sprung the horses. “You can keep a strict chaperonly eye upon Estelle.” He grinned at his twin.
“Chaperonly?”His father, the Marquess of Dorchester, raised his eyebrows.
“Will you please come, Aunt Matilda?” Boris asked. “I have a hankering to see the pagoda at Kew. I have never been there.”
“May I add my pleas, ma’am?” Mr. Sawyer added, smiling sweetly at Matilda. “And you will be comfortable with Papa, will you not, since you know him?”
It seemed to Matilda that the room grew suddenly silent and that all eyes turned accusingly upon her. Perhaps she was imagining it. But her cheeks felt as though they had caught fire.
“It is a very slight acquaintance,” she hastened to explain. “I met your father, Mr. Sawyer, when my brother was still alive and I had just made my debut into society.” She wondered if he would remember her calling his father Charles rather than Lord Dirkson when she had appeared at his house with Bertrand a few weeks ago. And heavens, she willed him not to mention that visit. Her mother and the rest of the family would be scandalized at the very least. “We danced together at a few balls that Season. It was many years ago, as you may imagine. I would be delighted to play chaperon for Jessica and Estelle and Miss Rigg tomorrow if I may be spared. It is ages since I was last at Kew. Mama?”
“Of course you can be spared, Matilda,” her sister Mildred said. “I will spend the afternoon with Mama.”
“I do not need anyone to cosset me,” their mother protested.
“I will spend the afternoon with you anyway,” Mildred said. “You may cosset me if you prefer. At least I will be able to relax, knowing for once where Boris is. He will be under the eagle eye of my sister.”
“Mama,”Boris protested, clearly mortified.
“Then it is settled,” Bertrand said, rubbing his hands together. “We merely have to make arrangements for Charlotte Rigg to come with us.”
“Oh, there will be no problem over that,” Estelle assured him. “Not when her mother is too sick to take her anywhere herself and Aunt Matilda will be accompanying the party. There is no one more respectable.”
“Thank you, Estelle,” Matilda said. “You make me sound very staid and very dull.”
“You are not dull at all,” that young lady cried, startling her by rushing at her and catching her up in a hug. “Or staid.”
“What I want to know about,” Boris said, “is your flighty youth, Aunt Matilda, when you were in town with Uncle Humphrey and made your come-out and knew Lord Dirkson. Was everything very different back then?”
“Oh yes, indeed,” Matilda said, slightly dizzy over the fact that everyone’s attention was upon her. “We lived in caves, you know, and wore animal skins.”
“And hunted down our food with stone mallets,” Charles added to the great delight of the young people.
Matilda, catching his eye and noting the twinkle there—oh sherecognizedthat twinkle—felt suddenly giddy with joy.
Joy?
When had she last felt joyful? When she had also felt youthful? A long, long time ago. Back when they lived in caves and rubbed sticks together to make fire. Even before the time of bows and arrows.
