“Such a remarkable journey you’ve had, Miss von Ostenfeld.”This came from Mrs.Bowen, looking at her kindly over a platter of roasted venison with redcurrant jelly and gravy.
Lise had been introduced to Lord Bowen’s younger brother, Samuel, and his brother’s wife during the gathering in the drawing room.Samuel was a serious man and a barrister, while his wife seemed exceptionally merry.
“All the way from Holstein,” the dark-haired woman continued.“I wouldn’t be an enthusiastic traveler, I’m afraid.I’d be worried I would never see home again, especially crossing the sea.”
Lise had opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.What an odd thing to say to someone who would be making just such a voyage in a short while.She exchanged a glance with Henrik on the other side and at the far end by the earl.Her brother merely shrugged.
“I enjoyed the journey,” Lise said at last.“Although I suppose one might wish it a little shorter.”
Mrs.Bowen didn’t seem to realize she’d given Lise pause.“Most of the KGL are from Hanover, I understand.”
A small cheer erupted spontaneously from the three other officers at the table, making the company in general laugh.When it was quiet again, Mrs.Bowen continued, “But you must tell us about Holstein, Miss von Ostenfeld.How does it differ from Hanover?”
Lise glanced again toward her brother.Henrik had been attending their conversation and gave her an encouraging nod.It wasn’t so much that she sought his permission, as that she didn’t wish to embarrass him by speaking out of turn.
“One always knows a Hanoverian by how neatly he trims his consonants.In Holstein, we let our words wander a little.”This made the officers laugh again.One of them added, “We don’t dress alike, either.In Hanover, we dress for court.In Holstein, they dress for wind and weather.”
“I don’t know about that,” Henrik said.“We tend to engage in practical elegance, not showy like you peacocks.”
Lise was glad they were still taking it all in good fun.In truth, she felt a kinship to all the German-speakers from the Continent.
“Tell us about your home?”The question came from Lady Castleton, her first directed squarely at Lise.She had the same gray eyes as her son.
Swallowing, Lise spoke slowly, deliberately, for their region was varied and beautiful.“My family’s estate is but fifteen minutes from Eutin, my lady, surrounded by beech forests, old oaks, and small lakes.In summer, the countryside is lush and green.The air is always fresh.”Unlike the stench of the Thames, which could and did make Lise’s eyes water.“Sometimes, we travel about an hour to the Baltic Sea.”
“I love Brighton,” Mrs.Bowen offered.“Mr.Bowen and I went there for our honeymoon.”She blushed.Then added, “I’ve even been dipped in the sea by a professional.It was colder than I’d anticipated.Brighton has bathing machines, Miss von Ostenfeld.Are there any such on the Baltic shore?”
Lord Bowen, like the rest of the guests, was paying attention to his sister-in-law’s and Lise’s discussion.When his gaze crossed the table toward her, she felt the force of it through her entire body.Determined not to show that he affected her, she broke away from the man’s intriguing eyes to address Mrs.Bowen again.
“Alas, we do not.However, I believe the Baltic is a little warmer in summer than the sea at Brighton, due to the effects of the Atlantic on your southern coast.”Lise stopped and sipped her wine, fearing she was speaking too much.Then she glanced at her brother.Tonight, he wasn't wearing his uniform, which would have seemed vulgar at the Earl’s table.
She added, “Of course the war has touched everything on the Continent, dimming or making impossible many of our former pleasures.”
“How dreadful that must be,” Mrs.Bowen said with evident sympathy.“To have soldiers marching through one’s land.”
“We’ve been fortunate so far,” Lise replied carefully.“However, the French presence in the region makes life uncertain.”
Once again, she couldn’t help looking directly at Lord Bowen.There was much in her life that was planned, including her upcoming marriage, but feeling this consuming attraction to a stranger was entirely unplanned.And unwanted.
On his other side, Lady Hartwell followed the arc of the viscount’s attention and frowned directly at Lise.It was as though she’d only just noticed her.
Lise wished she could say the same.But the widow of Lord Hartwell had intended by her gown in the latest French fashion to draw every eye to her.It brought to mind the wickedly accurate illustration in the newspaper, comparing a 1740s’ “Lady’s full dress of Bombazeen” to a modern “Lady’s undress ofBum-be-seen.”
Lady Hartwell could easily have been the model for the latter, with a nearly sheer gown that didn’t adequately conceal her plump posterior, while allowing the thigh ribbons of her stockings to show through.And then there was the low-cut neckline revealing ...everything.
Why any woman would show up at a party with KGL officers looking like a French courtesan, Lise could not imagine.
“I’m sure your country is charming in peacetime,” Lady Hartwell said.“In the same way as one of my rural holdings in the north is quaint for a week in the countryside.”
Lise recognized an insult when she heard one, but let it pass.This woman was nothing to her.Let her think everything English was better than the rest of the world combined.
“Although I confess,” the lady continued, “I cannot imagine willingly leaving London.There’s something about city life that suits me.”She turned to Lord Bowen, leaning toward him, pressing her generous breasts against his arm.
Lise stared, engrossed, as the movement made Lady Hartwell’s nipples nearly crest her décolletage.She supposed it was the purview of a wealthy widow to behave however she wanted, even if she stretched the boundary of good taste and decorum, while stretching her bodice at the same time.
In any case, Lord Bowen was getting an eyeful of creamy flesh.
“Don’t you agree, my lord?”Lady Hartwell continued.“I believe you enjoy the many advantages and amusements that London offers.You would surely find country living rather dull in comparison.No matter the fresh aroma of a beech tree.”
