“Is this a search party, do you think?” She nodded to the people coming their way, a hair pin between her lips, her hands busy at the back of her head.
Beckford, two others.
“Just bored. Everyone is getting bored. We’ll all go home in an hour. Or most of us.” He watched her slide the pin back into place. “Lady Frances will stay until late. But if you’re tired, you can have my carriage. I rode, but I had it sent here. There are normally several people who imbibe a little too much and need to go home sooner than planned.”
“Like me?” She smiled. “I’ll remember never to drink champagne in April. It seems to make me maudlin.”
“You are not remotely drunk. And I liked hearing you talk.”
That confused her. He could tell. She found him very confusing. He was beginning to confuse himself. Wasn’t he meant to be biding his time?
“But I wouldn’t recommend you go just yet,” he advised. “Not if you can stand to bear it a little longer. Lady Frances has drunk too much and knows she ought to leave. If you go home before her, it will remind her of it—that you made a wiser choice than her—and she’ll resent you for it. Better to stay and weather it with fortitude.”
“With grace.” She nodded. “And serenity.”
He returned her smile.
“Exactly, Mrs Ardingly.”
“Did Critchall come this way?” called Beckford, now within hailing distance. “Or down to the river?”
“The river, I think,” said Sebastian.
“Oh, blast.” He flashed a contrite look at the widow. “Oh,bother, I mean. Hallo, Pretty—ah, Mrs Ardingly.”
“Hello, Mr Beckford.”
“Um…nice day for it, eh?”
“It is. Very nice.”
“Pity not to see your aunt here.”
“Thank you.”
“Ought to call on my mother again. Very welcome.”
“Thank you, Mr Beckford. She’ll be delighted to hear it.”
“By Jove.” His eyes widened as something caught his attention. “That’s the biggest bee I ever saw in my life. I could almost ride it.”
“It’s probably a queen.”
“Ah, well, then I reckon I shouldn’t. She might not stand for it.”
“No. I suspect it would be beneath her royal dignity.”
Sebastian, amused by the exchange, kept his smile small. But he liked the way she handled Beckford, not laughing at him, but gently moulding herself to his level. It probably came of having younger brothers.
“Right you are!” Beckford nodded, as though this was a perfectly sensible end to a perfectly sensible conversation. He looked around at his two young companions. “Shall we try the river, men?”
They agreed, and the three went back the way they’d come. Without a word, Sebastian and Mrs Ardingly also followed, though more slowly. The picnic was soon in sight again, the group slightly smaller.
“Thank you,” Mrs Ardingly suddenly said, “for listening.” Then she hastened forward to rejoin the others.
Ten
Lady Frances finally calledfor her landau when the light was violet, the shadows long since absorbed by the dusk.
