Miss Martin curtsied. Wilma and Miss Hunt favored her with identical gracious nods, while Sutton, not to be outdone in cold civility, inclined his head just sufficiently to indicate that he did not choose to insult his brother-in-law.
The temperature must have dropped at least five degrees within the minute.
Wilma and Sutton would not enjoy being introduced to a mere schoolteacher, Joseph thought with what would have been wry amusement if he had not been concerned for the lady’s feelings. She could hardly fail to notice the frostiness of her reception.
But she took matters into her own hands, as he might have expected she would.
“Thank you, Lord Attingsborough,” she said briskly, “for rowing me on the river. It was very obliging of you. I will go and join my friends now if you will excuse me.”
And she strode off in the direction of the house without a backward glance.
“Really!”Wilma said when she was scarcely out of earshot. “A schoolteacher, Joseph! I suppose she hinted that she would like to go out on the river, and you could not bring yourself to deny her the treat. But you really ought to have done so, you know. Sometimes you are just too good-natured. You are easily imposed upon.”
It often amazed Joseph that he and Wilma could have been born of the same parents and raised in the same home.
“I escorted Miss Martin up from Bath last week when I came back to town,” he said. “I did it as a favor to Lady Whitleaf, who used to teach at her school.”
“Yes, well,” she said, “we all know that Viscount Whitleaf married beneath him.”
He was not about to wrangle with his sister at a garden party. He turned to Portia Hunt instead.
“Would you care for a turn on the river, Miss Hunt?” he asked her.
“Yes, I would, Lord Attingsborough,” she said, smiling and allowing him to hand her into the boat. She raised a white lacy parasol above her head, angled just so to shield her complexion from the sun.
“It was extremely kind of you,” she said after he had pushed off, “to bring that teacher out here. It is to be hoped that she is properly grateful, though to her credit shedidthank you.”
“I enjoyed Miss Martin’s company,” he said. “She is an intelligent woman. And a very successful one.”
“Poor lady,” she said as if he had just told her that Miss Martin was dying of some incurable disease. “Lady Sutton and I were speculating about her age. Lady Sutton declares that she must be on the wrong side of forty, but I could not be so cruel. I believe she must be a year or two under that age.”
“I think you are probably right,” he said, “though one can hardly be blamed for one’s age whatever it is, can one? And Miss Martin has much to show for the years she has lived, however many they are.”
“Oh, absolutely,” she said, “though having toworkfor a living must be unpleasantly demeaning, would you not agree?”
“Demeaning, no,” he said. “Never. Tedious, possibly, especially if one has to take employment at something one does not enjoy. Miss Martin enjoys teaching.”
“Is this not a delightful garden party?” she said, twirling her parasol.
“Indeed it is,” he agreed, smiling at her. “Was the soiree enjoyable last evening? I am sorry I had to miss it.”
“The conversation was very agreeable,” she said.
He tipped his head to one side as he rowed. “Am I forgiven, then?” he asked.
“Forgiven?” Her eyes widened and she twirled her parasol once more. “Whatever for, Lord Attingsborough?”
“For going to the Whitleafs’ concert instead of the soiree,” he said.
“You may do whatever you wish in life and go wherever you please,” she told him. “I would not presume to question your decisions even if I had some right to do so.”
“That is kind of you,” he said. “But I assure you I would never demand so compliant a companion. Two people, however close they are, ought to be able to express displeasure openly with each other when provoked.”
“And I assureyou,my lord,” she said, “that I would never dream of expressing displeasure with anything a gentleman chose to do—if that gentleman had some claim to my loyalty and obedience.”
Of course, there was more than one way of expressing displeasure. There was open, forthright speech, or there was something altogether more subtle—like introducing the topic of bonnets into the conversation when the only man present was the one to whom one owed loyalty and obedience. Not that Miss Hunt owed him anything yet.
“The weather is almost perfect for a garden party,” she said, “though it is perhaps a little on the hot side.”
