It was not happily-ever-after, Estelle thought as she stood quietly and moved to the doorway and through it, past Mr.Chandler. Maria had genuinely loved her mother and still did. It was perfectly clear that the late Countess of Brandon had been a thoroughly disagreeable woman. It was not to be expected that Maria would fully accept that, however. So perhaps she would always be a bit suspicious of the version of events her aunts and uncles—and her great-aunt—had given. And they understood that and sympathized with her. And loved her. They would have a relationship with her going forward, and she with them. The Earl of Brandon had been right to invite them.
She was not needed here any longer, Estelle decided. Maria had not needed her at all, in fact, except as moral support. She drew a few deep breaths of the summer air and thought that after all she would have time to walk to the lake. She did not need company. Indeed, the chance of an hour or so of solitude seemed quite blissful.
She turned her steps in that direction.
Thirteen
Justin did not know how long he had been sitting in the grotto—he had not brought a watch with him—but he did not think it was important to hurry back. However, it seemed that his peace was in danger of being shattered. Captain had scrambled up onto his haunches and was panting while he gazed intently outward.
“Quiet, Cap,” Justin murmured.
A lone figure had come into sight, strolling along the bank of the lake in the direction of the bridge. His first instinct was to withdraw farther back into the cave until she went away. But if she should decide to sit on the bank as she had beside the river north of her home a few weeks ago and remove her shoes and stockings and lift her skirt up over her knees andthenlook up and see him anyway, she would be horribly embarrassed, and he would feel like a Peeping Tom. He stayed where he was. His dog was still alert and watching, but he was no longer panting.
Lady Estelle Lamarr, Justin suspected, liked solitude as much as he did. Else why had she been alone that day by the river? Why was she alone now? And why was she still unmarried and presumably content to live with her twin in a modest manor in the depths of the country when she could probably marry very eligibly anytime she chose?
He did not want to be alone with her. He had made a thorough ass of himself at the summerhouse with his proposal of marriage and the subsequent kiss—after she had refused his offer. He had felt an inconvenient attraction to her later that same day when he stopped for a private conversation with her during the tour of the state apartments. That had been unwise. He had kept his distance from her as much as he could during the days since then.
She did not sit on the bank. She strolled all the way to the bridge and halfway across it before stopping under the roof, just at the bend, to gaze at the falls as he had done earlier, her arms crossed on the balustrade before her and pushing up her bosom as she leaned on them. With just a slight turn of the head she would be looking right at him. Would she see him in the shadows? Or his dog?
Why wait to find out?
“It is one of the loveliest sights in the park,” he said, raising his voice so she would hear him above the sound of rushing water.
She looked both ways, startled.
“Over here,” he said. “To your left.”
She surprised him by smiling when she saw him. “That looks like fun,” she said.
“I always thought we should have a resident hermit here,” he said. “But it might be considered a little eccentric.”
“Counting his beads and plaiting his beard?” she said.“It would be very picturesque. Who would bring him food, though? Or her. Are there female resident hermits? It would be a great injustice to women if there were not.”
“I thought they lived on air,” he said. “Hermits of both genders, that is.”
“Oh dear, their lives must be very tedious, then,” she said. And laughed.
“It would be a long walk from the kitchen three times a day,” he said. “The servants would start handing in their notice en masse. Perhaps it is as well we have never had a hermit.”
His mother and father used to talk nonsense sometimes. He could remember one time becoming helpless with giggles as he listened until they turned to him and his father pounced upon him and tickled him while his mother urged him to stop before he made Justin ill. Where the devil had that memory come from?
“Come and see,” he said. “It is just a cave, but it has always been known as the grotto.”
“And why not?” she said, walking to the end of the bridge and descending the steps to the grass. “Grottois a far more romantic word. How do I get there?”
“Go and fetch her, Cap,” he said, and his dog bounded out and down to her.
There were rocks. Big, smooth, flat boulders like giant steps. It was neither a difficult nor a dangerous climb and really the grotto was not far above the level of the lake anyway. He stepped out to offer his hand, but she did not need it. She made her way carefully toward him, one hand on Captain’s back, while Justin wondered why on earth he had invited her inside the cave.
“The blankets and cushions arenotdamp and moldy,” he assured her when she lowered her head and peeredinside. “They are stored in the boathouse with towels for swimmers.”
“Is there a boat too?” she asked.
“Yes, there is,” he told her.
“It is quite splendid,” she said of the cave, “and far bigger than it looks from the outside. Did you use it as a place to hide when you were a boy? I bet you did.”
“You would not lose your wager,” he said.
