How could it? He had kissed her passionately on behalf of the orphanage. Not for himself.
In many ways, his was the nicest kiss she had ever received, because it was given with a sincere abundance of feeling.
Was this not how kisses ought to be given? From the heart. With depth and meaning.
Since the noise from next door had finally died down, they moved on to attend to their business matters. Their weekly meetings over tea were not merely to relate the latest gossip but to discuss causes and do something about helping the downtrodden.
The next few hours flew by, and it was soon time for her friends to take their leave.
Berry gave each one a kiss on the cheek, even sour Maude, who was really quite nice but had such a dreary outlook on everything. If the sun were shining, she would remark upon how annoyingly aglare it was. If the weather were cool and overcast, she would complain about being frozen and found dead in her bed by morning.
Berry had taken it upon herself to coax smiles out of Maude, and was delighted when she got a smile and a hug out of her now. “Berry, keep your windows closed or all the dust stirred up by Mr. Knight’s construction will seep into your lungs and give you a fatal disease.”
“Thank you, Maude. I shall do my best not to breathe.”
Miranda’s niece, nineteen-year-old Gwenys, threw her arms around Berry. “What an exciting afternoon! I cannot wait until next week. Do you think he will kiss you again? Do you want him to? I certainly would. Do you think he would kiss me if—”
Miranda dragged her away. “Gwenys, if I catch you anywhere near that man I shall haul you off to the wilds of Scotland and keep you locked away until you turn fifty.”
“Aunt Miranda!” Gwenys whined as the pair marched off for home, which was merely across their small square.
Arabella kissed Berry’s cheek. “I had better hurry home to await my dear Hubert. He is such a creature of habit and would be utterly lost if I am not home to greet him.”
Berry thought it was quite nice the way Arabella and her husband were around each other. They sincerely enjoyed being in each other’s company. They adored their children and adored each other.
Once all the ladies had gone home, Berry sat alone on her settee while lost in thought.
Her butler approached. “Lady Berry, shall I clear away the table now, or do you wish me to wait?”
“Oh, yes. Please do it now, Melton. I shall get out of your way. I ought to look in on Mrs. Garland, since she was feeling too poorly to come out of her bedchamber today.” The genteel, elderly lady had been hired years ago by her father’s trustee, Lord Berwick, to live with Berry and serve as her chaperone and companion.
The arrangement served both of them well, since Mrs. Garland had been raised in the better circles of London Society but had fallen upon hard times, and Berry was considered too young even now to live on her own without raising eyebrows.
“And I have an important invitation to write.”
“Very good, Lady Berry.”
She scurried upstairs and quietly entered Mrs. Garland’s bedchamber.
“Cora,” she whispered to the maid attending her, “how is she?”
“No fever, m’lady. But the poor thing is quite fatigued. I fear it is old age and not any disease that is wearing her down.”
Berry felt a pang of regret. The passage of time seemed to be stealing everyone away from her.
But Mrs. Garland would be well cared for here. Berry could do no less for her after all the years of her kind devotion.
Since she had no intention of waking the woman from her peaceful slumber, Berry went downstairs to her study to write Mr. Knight’s invitation. The invitation cards were engraved with all the details, so she had only to add a short, personal note to him.
Once done, she thought to hand it to Melton to deliver next door, but then changed her mind.
He and her housekeeper, Mrs. Bolton, were busy clearing away the mess from the parlor. And anyway, should she not make the friendly gesture toward her new neighbor? They had St. Brigid’s in common, and that ought to put them on immediately friendly terms.
Well, Maude would consider it highly improper to deliver the invitation herself, as would most of theton, Berry supposed.
“Honestly,” she muttered, walking out the door with the invitation card in her hand. She had led an exemplary life, never taking a toe out of line. To make anything tawdry out of this friendly gesture would show her accusers to be the rude and petty ones.
She marched up Mr. Knight’s front walk and knocked at his door. When no one answered, she pounded until her fist began to throb.
