“How are your mother and sisters? I pray you left them in good health,” she said, a noticeable wobble in her voice. During the short time he’d known her, she’d been very vocal and confident. Today that strength of spirit was missing.
“Very good health. My mother sends her best to you and your father.”
“She is all that is gracious.” She shifted in her seat, a stray curl falling from her upswept hair. The dark strand touched her cheek, tempting him to push it back in place.
“Your mother is said to be a great beauty, as are your sisters,” Sir Vernon said, his eyes darting from Langdon to Elizabeth. While he was being solicitous, there was a hard edge in every word uttered.
“His family is most handsome, to be sure.” Elizabeth offered a faint smile, her stiff back belying the gesture. She was uncomfortable either with him, her father, or both of them. The woman sitting across from him was a stranger in a lot of ways. In his experience, people often projected what they thought others wished to see. He’d thought Elizabeth was different. Or perhaps he was reading too much into this. “Lady Nora and Lady Langdon are good friends.”
“Lady Coburn,” Sir Vernon said with a soft snort and thumped his cane on the floor, startling Elizabeth.
She lifted her chin, slender fingers curling into the material of her skirt. The action lifted the fabric to reveal a soiled petticoat. Mrs. Adare had been outdoors at some point, which explained her absence when he’d arrived.
“My mother is very fond of Lady Coburn and I consider Lord Coburn my friend.” Coburn was Sir Vernon’s stepbrother, and from what he could discern the brothers were not close. “As well as Mr. Farnsworth.”
“Yes, my heir.” A sound somewhere between a chuckle and a cough issued from him. “A fine young man, worthy of inheriting Waverly Park.”
After observing Anthony and Elizabeth in London, it was no secret the cousins were often at odds. It was because of Waverly Park. As a woman, she would have no ability to inherit. Once her father was gone, she’d have to find another home.
A maid entered the room pushing a tea cart. She was followed by a broad-shouldered man in green and gold livery.
“Mary O’Malley?” Sir Vernon sneered, accusation in every syllable.
“Mary, please bring the cart over here,” Elizabeth indicated the spot next to her, never once looking at her father. From the flush on her neck, she was ignoring him on purpose.
The footman moved to stand behind Sir Vernon. Unlike George’s threadbare uniform, the manservant’s livery was new. What an odd contradiction. By rights, the butler would be well turned out over the rest of the staff. The situation was becoming more and more curious.
“Coffee or tea, Lord Langdon?” Elizabeth asked, biting her bottom lip, a true sign of her discomfort. She released the worried flesh and inhaled. “You said earlier you liked both. I don’t wish to assume which one you prefer now.”
“Coffee would be most welcome.” He wished for something stronger. Her unease had rubbed off on him. However, he was a guest, it would be rude to deny the offer of refreshments.
Elizabeth engaged the maid with gentle words. Her instructions and manner subdued but competent. “After coffee, Bradley will show you to your room.”
“That is most gracious of him.” Langdon accepted the cup, his fingers brushing her much cooler ones. If they were alone, he would turn his wrist and link his fingers with hers. He had no right to touch her. She had made her feelings on marriage crystal clear. There would be no other recourse except to remain friends and nothing else. Everything inside of him revolted at being in such a state. It was not his decision to make. The thing that Mrs. Elizabeth Adare had proven above all else was that she knew what she wanted.
Langdon was also a man who knew what he wanted, and what he wanted was to be with Elizabeth.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Elizabeth rushed down the hallway, a lace shawl clutched tightly in her nervous fingers. For once she was glad of the chill in the air for her face was heated with anticipation for the upcoming evening with Langdon. The only downside was her father would be in attendance. Her smile dimmed somewhat at the prospect, but nothing could dampen her overall mood.
“Mrs. Adare,” Bradley said, appearing on the landing without a sound. The man had a nasty habit of showing up at the most inopportune times, often for nefarious reasons. He possessed a bad habit of reporting everything he heard to her father, which often placed the rest of the household in a precarious position.
“Oh my, you frightened me. You really need to announce yourself,” Elizabeth chastised, one hand flying to her chest.
