“I for one thought it repetitive, and were I many years younger, perhaps then I may have enjoyed it,” Mrs. Hamner said.
Alice looked pained. “You cannot be serious, Aunt. It was a delightful read, with humor and touches of seriousness that had me close to weeping.”
Liberty’s friend never wept, so that was said purely from a theatrical standpoint.
“Poppycock!”
“If I may interject, Mrs. Hamner.”
And so it began. A heated debate that lasted through two pots of tea, and several plates of dainty sandwiches and cakes.
“I believe the dialogue and character development is the best Ihave read in many years,” Liberty added after she’d swallowed the mouthful of truly delicious lemon tart. “Elizabeth Bennet is wonderful—”
“Hardly realistic,” Mrs. Hamner cut in.
“Very realistic, and for many of us,” Alice snapped.
“Agreed,” Liberty said, glaring at her mother.
“Well, I do believe it is your turn to select the next book, Mrs. Hamner,” Lady Petunia said quickly, looking nervous.
“The Mysteries of Udolpho, by Ann Radcliffe,” Alice’s aunt said.
“I hope it is not too scary,” Liberty’s mother said.
“It is a work of fiction, Mother,” Liberty muttered.
“Wonderful. I love a robust discussion, and tonight’s was that,” the third of Lord Hamilton’s aunts, Lavinia, said.
“And you’ll keep in mind what I said,” Lady Petunia added as she escorted Liberty and her mother to the door.
She looked at the woman, trying to remember of all the things she’d said tonight, which one she should keep in mind.
“Lord Tobias. Wonderful man and just perfect. Plus, there’s the child now, so his need is greater.”
“Perfect for what?” Liberty asked. Her mother tittered at that. Clearly, she knew what he was perfect for, and if he married her daughter, then nothing else mattered. Not even the fact he’d treated her terribly.
“Why, for a marriage to you, of course, Lady Liberty. Have a safe trip home.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Vauxhall Gardens hadalways been somewhere Toby enjoyed. Loud noise, plenty of beautiful women, and outrageous entertainment. Tonight, he wanted to be anywhere but here. First there was Florence, who he knew was asleep, but he was happier if he was in the house while she did, and second there was Liberty, whom he could not stop thinking about.
“Why are you morose?”
“What?” He shot Jamie a look as he wandered with him through the gardens.
“You’re morose.”
“I am not. I’m weary. Please note the difference. I have a child to care for. They are exhausting, if wonderful. There is also not a morose bone in my body, and I’ll thank you to remember that,” Toby said, looking around him for Liberty, which was something he did far too often. “Morose is for people who can find nothing to entertain them.” He sent his hand in an arc. “Does this look to you like I am not entertained?”
Since the chess match, and the revelations her brother had told him about the accident, which Edward was sure would infuriate his sister, Toby had watched her closer.
There was the Heather musicale, where she’d arrived late, and moved to a seat several rows in front of him, slowly. Which he now knew was her not being cautious, but likely due to her leg.Was she stillin pain because of it?
Last night he’d seen her at the Sowter ball, exquisite in a lavender dress, which to his mind was cut too low in the bodice, and watched her dance, but just the once, and a waltz like she had with him. He wondered if she chose that dance because if she fell, whoever was her partner would hold her up.
I want to be the one holding her up.The words slid into his head before he could stop them.
