Behind him, Roman heard the hum from the other male guests.
“You are a lucky man, Rochdale,” one of his neighbors, Sir Charles Everett, said. He had been one of the hunters and had been matching the squire drink for drink, although he didn’t show it.
The cart pulled to a halt. Roman decided he needed to stake his claim and walked to greet his family. To his surprise, Squire Jones almost knocked him over as he hurried in Leonie’s direction to help her from the cart.
Roman’s legs were longer and it washishands that took Leonie by the waist and swung her down, leaving the squire to help Dora while Lawrence and Roman’s stepfather saw to Beth and his mother.
The music for the afternoon had already started. Two local fiddlers set a lively tune.
Squire Jones bowed over Leonie’s hand, ignoring his own wife, who had rushed to greet the countess as well. “It is an honor to have you here, my lady. You are a vision.”
“Why, thank you, Squire,” Leonie said. She shot Roman a look that said she realized the man was well into his cups. She gave a tug on her hand. He didn’t want to let go, but Leonie proved she’d been in these circumstances before. She knew how to extricate her hand and then wisely turned her attention to Mrs. Jones, the squire’s giggly wife.
Roman took Leonie’s arm and led her to where couples were dancing. He was right to think that Squire Jones and his wife were not dancers. There was a measure of peace here.
“You look fetching, wife. I adore your hair down.”
She colored prettily and glanced around to see if anyone had overheard. He didn’t care if they did. He’d shout the words if he must. “Thank you,” she said, and then added, “You look fetching, too.”
Her words made him laugh and when the dance started he could have flown through the steps he was so happy.
The afternoon was a good one. The squire had set up tables under the trees and people ate and drank until they were full and more. Roman could see why this event was anticipated by everyone in the parish.
In the beginning, Leonie was right by his side, but as time passed, she was pulled over to join some of her rose-growing friends. They sat in a circle with his mother and sister Dora. Beth was with the other young mothers supervising the children.
Roman was called into a group of men to recount the morning’s hunt. It was a good companionable time and the punch bowl never seemed to empty.
Leonie had given it wide berth. She had wisely planned ahead and had Cook make a huge pottery crock of lemonade. It had taken both Briggs and Lawrence to remove it from the wagon. Roman noticed that his sisters and mother were drinking it as well as several of the other ladies.
All in all, it was a good afternoon. The sky was clear, the company entertaining, and Roman experienced what could only be described as happiness. His life made him proud. As time went by, he would continue to prosper. The years of hardship and frustration were behind him—
Squire Jones jostled his arm, interrupting his thoughts. “You will thank me, my lord.”
“I’m already in your debt, Jones,” Roman said. “This is an admirable event. I believe I have been introduced to everyone in the parish.”
“You have, my lord, you have.” The squire weaved a bit, a silly conspiratorial smile upon his face. “The wife and I are proud to bring everyone together, but that isn’t what I was talking about.”
“Then why else will I thank you?” Roman said.
Squire Jones touched the side of his nose. “I noticed your lady wife had not tried my punch. I made a new batch. I can barely stand after sampling it. I gave her a cup. It will be a good night for you, my lord. That punch will loosen her lacings.”
Cold fear mixed with anger in Roman. “You gave her a cup? Did she take it?”
“Of course. Said she liked brandy. I put two bottles in this last batch, I did.” He waved his hand as he spoke and almost toppled over into the arms of another guest. That man attempted to right him but it was too late for the squire. He fell to the ground and, to Roman’s shock, curled up and passed out.
Everyone grinned and pointed at him. “Does this every year,” someone said. “He lasted longer this year than last.”
Roman didn’t give a damn about the squire. He looked to where he’d last seen Leonie with Dora and some other women at one of the tables...
She was not there.
He walked over to his mother. “Have you seen my lady?” He spoke calmly, aware of how many people could overhear him.
His mother looked around. “I thought she was right here.”
Dora didn’t know where Leonie had gone either. “I’ll help you look for her.”
“No, she’s fine,” Roman lied. “You enjoy yourself with your friends.” He didn’t wait for his sister’s answer but set out to find his wife.
