Beneath her umbrellain Richmond Park, Laura stifled a yawn. Beside her on a similar wicker chair, Edward handed his empty champagne flute to a footman and turned to her.
“You look sleepy, Laura. Shall we join the others for a stroll? Someone spied a big stag among the deer in the copse of trees on the hill. It’s wisest not to get too close, but we can walk to the pond.”
“Yes, let’s. I am a little tired and a walk will refresh me.” She took Edward’s hand and stood. “It’s been a busy week. So many late nights, and the sunshine doesn’t help.” She dabbed her perspiring forehead beneath the brim of her bonnet with her handkerchief. The midsummer day had become too hot to be outdoors. Many of Mrs. Fleming’s guests wisely sought the shade.
Laura took his proffered arm. They followed the path through the grass, scattering a flock of birds that flew into the trees. Since she and Edward had met in London, they had spent time together at the same dizzying round of engagements, including luncheon at Mirvat’s Hotel and dining with the Grenvilles before the theatre, where Edmund Kean had performed inThe Fatal Accusation. She was comfortable in his company. Discussing past shared experiences, they seemed like an old married couple. There were no breathless silences, no pounding of her heart, or the urge to draw closer to him. No warmth rising to her face at his touch. No thrill of desire. It made her wonder if she had ever been passionately in love with Edward. Had it been a girlish infatuation? She feared so, and now because of Debnam, she knew what it was to be passionately aroused and desperately wanting another’s touch. She couldn’t bear to think she might never feel that way again.
“If things had been different, I know we would have been happy together,” Edward said.
Laura supposed he was right, although she suspected she would have yearned for something more, while unaware of quite what that was. Since she’d met Debnam, she better understood herself. She had a passionate nature. And still longed for him. Especially in the quiet of her bedchamber at night. It made her horribly restless. Was he well? Might he have found some measure of contentment? It had occurred to her Debnam could return to London, and she searched for him at every venue but failed to find him. Her stomach churned with jealousy at the thought of him flirting with some woman on the dance floor. But she reminded herself sternly that she had no claim on him.
She’d come to understand Edward was a conventional gentleman. He had not fought for her all those years ago, meekly obeying the order from his overbearing father. Perhaps he’d believed his father to be right. Her parents had never been very wealthy.
To be fair to him, he mourned the loss of a beloved wife. She doubted Edward had an ardent nature. Their few stolen kisses were a brief touch of lips, and he hadn’t attempted to touch her breasts, although she sometimes wanted him to. Laura couldn’t imagine him doing anything outrageous, like seducing her in the billiard room. And she wanted a lover who excited her. It would not be so with a respectable, careful man like Edward. Their life would be different. Laura mourned the woman she might have become, had she and Debnam been able to marry.
Edward cleared his throat, and Laura tensed. He could be about to propose, and she was still in an anxious flurry of indecision. Would it be fair to him to marry him, when she wanted more than he could give? Wanted the man who was a dashing scoundrel and passionate lover, who could be gentle and honorable, and whose slumbering gaze set her on fire? Laura wished she weren’t so confused. Why couldn’t she use her good sense, as her aunt had urged her? After all, she was fond of Edward, and there could be children.
Fortunately, before he could frame his thoughts into words, a married couple they had met earlier hailed them, and the opportunity passed. It was a reprieve, but not the end, Laura suspected. She bit her lip. Shemustbe ready to respond to him with her answer.
When she returned to Aunt Gertrude’s townhouse, her aunt hurried to meet her in the hall. “A letter has come from a family friend, Mrs. Purcell. Mr. Purcell has passed away. I am to leave tomorrow for Oxford, to attend the funeral.”
“How sad. I am sorry.”
“No need to accompany me, Laura, as you’ve never met them. But while I’m away, you cannot stay in London. Go to Longworth. Within a few weeks, social events will peter out as people depart London for the country. I shall do the same. I cannot abide the city during hot weather.” Her aunt appraised her. “I expect Edward will return to Surrey, and you shall see him there.” She smiled warmly, obviously of the opinion Edward would propose.
Laura supposed it would disappoint her aunt, and Robert, too, if she refused Edward. And if she did, she would have no option but to become her aunt’s companion, should she agree to have her. The burden of choice seemed to settle heavily on her shoulders.
Home beckoned. Clear skies and fresh air and Tibby curled up on the end of her bed. It had been so long since she’d ridden over the green meadows. The frenetic, frivolous pace of city life bored her. The humid weather seemed trapped beneath a solid bank of unshifting clouds, everything coated with soot, the roads clogged with traffic, and the unrelenting noise from dawn to dusk. Even a promenade in Hyde Park was unappealing at the height of summer.
Robert worried her. What had he been up to in her absence? He used to turn to her for guidance. Had it been foolish of her to leave him to his own devices?
At the desk in her sitting room, Laura wrote a note to Edward to explain why they could not meet tomorrow. And how sorry she was their plan to visit the Dulwich Picture Gallery in Southwark must be abandoned.
Edward’s prompt reply arrived before Laura left London. He intended to go to Surrey, to see his mother, and hoped he might call, as he had a particular question to put to her.
No further along with her decision, Laura groaned.
In the late afternoon of the following day, her hired carriage pulled up outside Longworth house. The front door opened, and Wagstaff welcomed her, resplendent in butler’s garb: a neat, dark-blue tailcoat and gray trousers. With a rush of pleasure, she hurried up the steps and smiled at him. “How fortunate we now have you as our butler, Wagstaff.”
His craggy face beamed, and he gave a brief bow. “But I’m happy to keep my position as a general factotum. Welcome home, milady.”
Laura laughed. “It seems to agree with you.”
While Wagstaff gave orders to the footmen to pay the driver and collect her luggage, a neat, middle-aged woman entered the hall and stood with her hands clasped. “Mrs. Smythe, milady,” she said. “His lordship has engaged me as housekeeper.”
Laura hid her surprise with a smile. “How do you do, Mrs. Smythe. Welcome to Longworth. Please come see me about anything you wish to know.”
“Thank you, milady.”
“We shall have a good, long talk tomorrow,” Laura promised.
She knocked on the library door.
“Come.”
Robert sat at his desk, his bailiff in the chair opposite. He dismissed Mr. Maddox, who greeted her with a gap-toothed smile before leaving the room.
When the door closed, Robert looked at her in surprise. “Why have you come home?”
