She laughed. “I hadn’t gotten a chance to, and I doubt it would matter anyway.”
William turned away with a wince as if her words had gutted him. Again, Rachel felt touched that he cared so much for her that he felt her pain as if it were his. She reached out and touched his arm, “I know that you care, William. You do not have to hide it from me.”
A bereft sigh left him as he picked up the pencils. “You do not have to stay with me.”
“I want to stay with you,” Rachel said emphatically but wondered why he was trying to push her away. “If you don’t mind, that is.”
“I love having you here,” William said.
As a comfortable silence descended on them, she asked the obvious question. “Why are you drawing here? If the drawing is completed, why not finish it in your room?”
“I want to get the scenery,” he mentioned while gesturing with his free hand. “The flower bushes, the paths, all of it is the ambiance I want the painting to have.”
“Oh,” Rachel said, cringing a little. “It makes sense.”
“I—”
“Daughter?” Lady Mary’s rather incensed voice cut through the conversation. “What are you doing out here?”
Standing, Rachel said, “I came for a sitting.”
Her mother’s eyes skimmed over William, who was standing and bowing. In seconds, her mother saw the canvas and ascertained what was happening. “It seems to me that Mr. Smith does not need you anymore. Come back to the house. Lord Strathmore is on his way here and why are you not wearing his ring?”
“I—” She faltered a little. “I felt it too precious to be wearing when I am doing mundane things.”
Her mother’s lips flattened. “Nevertheless, you must wear it and come on inside. He has sent youanotherdress for a ride to Hyde Park.” Her mother almost sneered at the mention of the garment.
If she is so repulsed by him buying me things, why not call off the engagement altogether? Oh right—because they need him to get to the Regent.
Stopping herself from rolling her eyes, she shot a quick look to William, then Rachel hurried to her mother’s side, leaving William behind.
When she got to her rooms, she found a carriage dress of deep blue. Beneath the high waist, the front of it parted to reveal a tiered underskirt. The shade of the cloth would flatter her glossy dark hair and porcelain skin. Beside it was a spencer jacket and a fashionable leghorn hat with a wide matching blue ribbon around it.
Jane was there waiting nervously, and Lady Mary did not make it easier. “Miss Colton, get her dressed as quickly as possible. Lord Strathmore is on his way, and I want her to look her best.” She then turned to Rachel. “And wear the ring!”
When she swept out of the room with a huff, Rachel felt her breath swoop out as well. She turned to Jane, “We should start.”
By the time Lord Strathmore arrived, Rachel was dressed, her hair in an elegant chignon fitting for the hat, and her finger adorned with his ring. Jane, who was going to be her chaperone, waited with Rachel in the drawing-room.
Lady Mary stood beside her, as the Lord entered the room, so did Rachel. Curtsying, Rachel greeted him. “Very pleased to see you, My Lord.”
Before he replied, his gaze dipped to her hand, and when he saw the ring, a smug smile took his face. “As I am, Lady Hampton.”
With a few more cordial words to the Duchess, Lord Strathmore whisked Rachel down the stairs, past the foyer, and into the waiting carriage. His driver helped Jane in, which made Rachel internally frown. Was he another one of those lords that looked down on servants?
“How was your evening?” he asked.
“Very pleasant,” Rachel said. “I must confess, I had not expected such a wonderful ring. It's…my parents only wear basic gold bands so you see I never thought I would get something so extravagant. The stone is almost like a gooseegg.”
Strathmore laughed. “Hardly, my dear. If you want a gooseegg I can certainly oblige.”
“N-no,” Rachel laughed nervously. “That’s all right, thank you.”
“Your father mentioned the banns,” Lord Strathmore stated. “That’s fine. I can work with that, but what I want to speak with you about is the wedding day. I think St. Paul’s Cathedral should suffice. We can have the wedding breakfast at Almack’s and then retire to our home. Speaking of, I want you to have your trunks packed and sent to my home the night before so there will not be any fumbling the next morning.”
Rachel did a poor job of hiding her insecurity. She knew what happened on the night of a marriage—the consummation. “B-before we get into that, I must tell you that I have some—”
“Hesitation?”
