Miss Sutton stood, the smile of her face sickly sweet. “I am glad to hear it. I would hate to think of a woman being taken advantageof. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to rest before the men return. It should be an exciting evening, correct? I believe there will be another demonstration tonight.”
Ella maintained her composure until she was certain Miss Sutton was nowhere near the White Parlor. Then she sighed and leaned back against the sofa. The fleeting thought had crossed her mind that Mr. Rowe might be here to woo her under false pretenses, but she had immediately dismissed it. It was such a farfetched idea. But could Miss Sutton be right?
Ella’s other concern followed—was Mr. Rowe being kind and attentive to her simply to gain access to Mr. Bauer? Did he really care about Mr. Bauer’s impact on the Society, or did he just want to watch him? He’d investigated Mr. Bauer's and Mr. Gutt’s bedchambers without asking her. If Mr. Rowe thought of her as a partner in this endeavor, he would have informed her. Wouldn’t he? She didn’t want to think that Mr. Rowe might be less genuine than he seemed.
The thought of it hurt her heart in such an unexpected way.
And then the question came back to her—what was she willing to risk for Keatley Hall?
Chapter 24
ELLA STOOD JUSToutside the conservatory in the north garden, observing the guests as they milled about and basked in the unusually cool breezes coming off the meadow. With abundant laughter and animated chatter, everyone appeared happy and content. The ladies sat in the shade of the sprawling ash trees, and the men engaged in lively games of croquet.
She wished she could share their carefree sentiment, but the uncomfortable walk with Mr. Abernathy earlier and the odd conversation with Miss Sutton weighed on her.
Ella tried to focus on the people around her and engage in conversations, but memories of different times flooded her. Her father, who would normally join the men for croquet, sat on the side conversing with Mr. Abernathy. Even his laugh was only half the strength it used to be. Phoebe, her dearest friend, was ignoring her. And the future, which at one point had seemed so promising, loomed dark and uncertain.
Feeling weary, Ella decided to go to her chamber and rest before dinner. She prepared to walk back toward the house, but the sight of Mr. Rowe at the iron gate stopped her.
He saw her and lifted his hand in greeting.
How could one single action change the trajectory of her emotions? The afternoon, which had moments before been lonely and forlorn, roared to life.
“Miss Wilde!” he exclaimed enthusiastically as he approached. “Just the lady I was seeking.”
Refusing to behave like a giddy schoolgirl, she tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “You’ve returned from the hunt, I see. Any luck?”
“Not a single animal was harmed by my hand.” Humor danced in his expression. “You must help me keep this day from being a total loss. Will you walk with me?”
Mr. Abernathy’s and Miss Sutton’s warnings flashed, but her stubborn streak refused to heed them.
Elladiddeserve happiness.
And maybe, just maybe, Mr. Rowe felt the same way.
She pushed her doubts from her mind. “Where would you like to walk?”
As he looked out toward the garden, the breeze lifted his dark hair from his brow. Everything within her wanted to reach out and smooth it into place. “How about down to the oak tree?”
Ella didn’t have to ask which tree he meant. It was the largest and unquestionably oldest tree on the grounds, and students had congregated under its branches for as long as she could remember.
They began to traverse the path, and she noticed some of the ladies in the rose garden watching them from beneath their parasols and from behind their fans. She lowered her voice. “We are being watched.”
“Of course we are.” He shrugged without looking back. “Does that bother you?”
“I’m very used to being the topic of conversation.”
“That’s not what I asked,” he challenged as they walked, casting her a sideways glance. “Does that bother you that they’re watching you? Watchingus?”
The question cut through her defenses. No one had ever asked her how she felt about being an object of gossip. How did he do it? How did he seem so unfeigned, so sincere?
Unsure of how much to share, she kept her voice light. “It doesn’t matter if it bothers me or not. I’m destined to be the topic of conversation here, as was my mother before me.”
“Ah yes. I believe you’re right.” He smirked. “I did hear a rumor about you.”
“You did?” She laughed, grateful for his ability to make any conversation seem easy and effortless. “Which rumor was it, I wonder?”
The teasing nature of his tone softened. “I’ve heard—all gossip, mind you—that you and Mr. Abernathy have an understanding. That a wedding is imminent.”
